#no poll has ever been made more specifically for me

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

my 1 (one) stardew opinion is shane should not have won the bachelor poll

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ you know i got a soft spot for you !!

ᝰ.ᐟ peak romance is when you realize that he's got a soft spot for you. alternatively: a headcanon post about the specific things he only does for you or the specific things you do to him that only you can get away with. ( fem!reader & sfw )

featuring osamu miya, tobio kageyama, kiyoomi sakusa author's notes damn, y'all just let hq win every poll, don't you?? haha jk, im happy to write whatever u guys wanna see. keshi's song has been stuck in my head all day (is this my socal abg transformation?? [guys im 100% viet, im allowed to make that joke]) i definitely still want to make a bllk version + if you guys like this, i'm always open to more characters <3

౨ৎ OSAMU MIYA — gives you the first and last bite of his food why it's special: osamu takes being a foodie to the next level. the man can eat, and he loves to do so. ever since elementary, his classmates and friends learned better than to ask osamu to share any of his snacks. he's not rude about it, per se, but you can tell that he packed his food with the intention of him and only him consuming it. him and atsumu even get into verbal altercations over who ate the last snack in the pantry. osamu just loves food — so it's pretty obvious that he must really love you a lot to always offer you the first bite of a meal at the restaurant he's spent weeks waiting to open.

"and anyway, that's when— hey, what the hell!" bits of rice fly out of atsumu's mouth whenever he watches osamu give you the first serving of grilled meat. you and osamu invited atsumu out to eat, to celebrate him joining the msby black jackals, and because everyone was craving bbq, you all agreed on the same restaurant (for once). osamu is naturally in charge of grilling the meats. what throws his twin off guard, though, is the fact that osamu is serving you first. "what's the matter? and finish chewing before you speak, damn." osamu huffs, before beginning to assemble portions of the side dishes on your plate as well. atsumu looks at his own empty plate before looking at osamu's empty plate. "geez, [name], how'd you do it?" you look up from your food to answer atsumu. "do what?" "this selfish, gluttonous bastard never lets anyone else eat first!" atsumu tells you, and you just laugh as osamu starts swearing at his brother. "well," you tell atsumu brightly, once his argument with osamu is settling down. "osamu's always lets me eat first. he insists, really." osamu has to tell atsumu to shut the hell up and stop whining before he doesn't get any food at all.

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA — takes pictures of you why it's special: tobio kageyama's camera roll before you consists of screenshots (some are accidental, such as the ones of his lock screen, or it's usually different athletic gear he wants to check out), photos of maps (because he is directionally challenged everywhere except for the court), and sometimes of virtual tickets (for when he actually does attend an event, usually for sports). tobio kageyama's camera roll after you consists of the same stuff, pretty much... except for the fact that there are now hundreds of photos he takes of you. he's not one to take pictures; he's a bit awkward around a camera, really, but he realizes soon after getting with you that he doesn't mind being in front of a camera as long as you're posing with him. he takes so many candids of you, like when you're washing the dishes or drifting off to sleep on the couch after bingewatching a tv show. if pictures are worth a thousand words, he's said "i love you" over a million times.

"oh my gosh, delete that!" you shriek, trying to make a mad grab for your boyfriend's phone. his reflexes are quicker, though, and he holds it out of your reach. "why would i delete it?" he asks innocently. "you look cute." the photo in question is the one he just took. the two of you ordered ramen for takeout, and yours was made spicier than usual. your lips feel swollen, and they're kind of stained red from the spices used, and the image captures that, but also highlights the tears welling up in the corner of your eyes as you're in the middle of a massive bite of noodles. "i look like i'm the thumbnail for a 'mukbangers who took it too far and died' video!" you wail. "delete it, tobio!" "but you look cute." he stands his ground, pouting a bit. "that's not fair. do not make that face." you groan, turning to look away from your boyfriend. honestly, with a face like that, it's no wonder why you couldn't force him to delete any pics of you. he's just too damn good at whittling away your resolve. "i think i'm gonna make it my lockscreen." he muses.

౨ৎ KIYOOMI SAKUSA — lets you make a mess of his things why it's special: kiyoomi is very particular about his personal belongings. he doesn't let his teammates borrow any of his training equipment. he refuses to wash his jersey with the rest of the team's, and instead, gets it professionally cleaned elsewhere. in the beginning of your relationship, kiyoomi always offered to wash the dishes, purely because he would only trust that it was truly cleaned if he could confirm that they were well scrubbed. the closer you two get, though, the more the boundaries blur. soon, his stuff gets mixed in with yours. you're doing the laundry together. he gives you his pillow when yours gets too warm. there's intimacy in that, even more so when you consider how prickly kiyoomi gets with these things.

"kiyoomi! you're home early!" fuck fuck fuck, is what's going on in your internal dialogue. you're baking a cake for dessert, only the mixer had a mind of its own, and you ended up covered in sugar, spice, and everything nice. which isn't that big of a deal. you already wiped down the counters, mopped the floors, and got started on the dishes. the only issue is that when you're at home, you have a habit of stealing kiyoomi's clothes. right now, you've still got on his sweatshirt. his nice, pristine, fresh from the laundry sweatshirt... that is now covered in nothing but flour and cake mix. you were going to wash it, honest! it's just... cleaning the kitchen took more time than you anticipated, and kiyoomi was supposed to stay at the gym for the whole day. he knows that that sweatshirt is his. you expect your boyfriend's eye to twitch, or for him to frown, or to even complain that you just ruined his very nice and outrageously priced hoodie. instead, he walks over to you, and places a kiss on your forehead. you've got flour all over you, including your hair, and surely he's got some flour on his lips now. he doesn't complain or say anything about the ruined sweatshirt. he just says, "thanks for baking. i'm going to go shower."

[wandaslovey]

𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓃 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎

➺ mom’s bsf!wanda x fem!reader

wc ~ 2.7k

a/n: this was the fic most voted for from my poll like two weeks ago :,) hope y’all enjoy!<3

a/n: i’m also currently writing a super dark/toxic wanda fic, so stay tuned for that loves 😙

*not proofread*

cw: established relationship, fluffy fluff, a (slightly) embarrassing conversation, shy/embarrassed reader but she still has a bit of a ‘tude

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

you hear the faint sound of birds chirping, some of the morning sunlight showing behind your closed eyelids, indicating you had slept in a bit. you hum sleepily, still feeling groggy from your “long night.”

it was a long night in the best way. tangled limbs, whispered words of affection and uninhibited love took place between you and wanda over the course of the evening and throughout the night. it was the first time the two of you had ever been in a setting where there was no need to look over your shoulder to see if someone would find the two of you out. there was no need to be rushed, quiet or secretive. it was simply just the two of you existing in your own little blissful bubble.

you rub the remaining sleep from your eyes, sitting up in bed just as you notice wanda entering the bedroom, two mugs of coffee in hand.

“good morning, sunshine,” she greets you with a warm smile—one you’ve only seen her give you specifically. she walks over to the bed and sits at the edge, handing you your mug. you sit up and take it from her, your two hands holding it carefully as to not spill on the white sheets.

“thank you, wands” you smile gratefully, eagerly tipping the mug towards your lips to take a sip. your coffee always tasted better when she made it and you had no idea why since she made it the same way you did.

“how’d you sleep, honey?” she scoots a little closer to you, affectionately running her hand down your arm. she rests it on your knee which you then rest your hand atop of hers, interlacing your fingers together. you were both so addicted to the others’ touch—wanting to constantly be connected in some way.

“really good. i don’t think i’ve slept so peacefully in a long time,” you reach over and set your mug down on the nightstand next to the bed.

you take note of the fact that there was just a simple lamp and a coaster on the nightstand. just like you, wanda was more of a minimalist and you could see evidence of that fact everywhere you looked in this cozy cabin of hers. it was quite spacious, decorated tastefully with little personal touches of her here and there.

as you marvel at the space of the bedroom for the first time (you hadn’t been paying much attention when you’d first arrived), your eyes fall back to wanda again. she was already looking at you, seeming to have been watching you glance around the room.

“i love this place. it’s so homey and warm,” you smile as you tell her, your eyes wandering around the room again.

“i love it here too. i’ve been renting it out to people for awhile now. i was worried at first that having strangers track in and out of here would come back to bite me, but it’s still in near perfect condition.” you nod your head thoughtfully as she speaks, a short bout of silence falling over the two of you before she speaks again.

“y/n?” the way she says your name has your attention immediately, her tone indicative of a change in the subject.

“yeah?” you look at her a little warily, though you could still sense the lighthearted energy in the air. you knew the topic wouldn’t be so serious yet you found that butterflies started fluttering in your tummy in anticipation.

“i want to talk about something that happened last night.” the expression on her face gave little away as just a hint of a smile touched the corner of her lips, her green eyes dancing with something indiscernible behind them.

you remain silent as she pauses, wanting her to continue without interruption.

“it was something you said. something you said quite a few times actually..” she continues to be vague, but you could see the growing roguish expression on her face. immediately you wrack your brain for what you might have said last night. there wasn’t much talking at all that you remember. after arriving early in the evening to the cabin, you were practically falling into bed as soon as you were both through the door. the two of you had been equally eager to love each other without the nosy presence of your mom, friends or neighbors. it certainly wasn’t the first time the two of you had sex, but it was the first time where it wasn’t so secretive.

your brow furrows as you think harder. did you say something when your mind was fogged up in a lust filled haze?

suddenly, the butterflies that had been in your stomach went from fluttering to swarming. your heart beat faster in your chest as it dawned on you what you might have said while you were in a fuzzy headspace.

wanda watches the realization bloom on your face, the color on your cheeks now a lovely pink shade. it didn’t go unnoticed by her that you stopped breathing for a moment.

you weren’t sure what to say—what to do. was she disgusted? disturbed? weirded out?

she breaks you out of your own thoughts, her hand tucking some hair behind your ear and her thumb stroking across your cheekbone. you only blush harder under her affection, the uneasy feeling in your stomach still not settled as she had yet to speak another word.

“you know what i’m talking about, don’t you baby?” she didn’t need to ask the question—your face was answer enough, but she couldn’t help herself. she loved getting you all flustered and you usually made it so easy. you begin to fidget with your hands, twisting one of your rings around your finger. you clear your throat, preparing to face the music.

“umm… did i.. did i call you… mommy?” you cringe lightly as you speak the last word—not because it disgusted you, but because you worried it disgusted her. you were avoiding her gaze like the plague, your eyes fixated on your hands that were in your lap.

wanda reaches out, gently grasping your chin with her thumb and forefinger to tilt your head up. her gaze made your cheeks burn impossibly hotter, but you found that there was no trace of disgust on her face. “you did,” she states simply, a touch of an amused smile on her lips.

“is that something you’re into? some sort of mommy kink?” she gently prods, wanting to fully understand the inner workings of your mind.

you wanted to tell wanda everything. the two of you had grown so close over the last year. you had been attracted to your mother’s best friend for years. you never dreamed she would return your affections until one day she finally boldly proclaimed how she felt about you. from then on, things hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing, but your forbidden relationship still blossomed. you confided in each other about everything. well—everything but this.

your eyes flick back and forth between her eyes, and you can see the sincerity of her curiosity. you knew she wouldn’t judge you, so you decided it was silly to keep it a secret any longer.

“yes. i mean, i’ve always had a thing for older women… hot older women.” you joke lightly, your eyes dancing with amusement before you continue. “it’s just, well, you know my mom. she’s not exactly maternal. she’s great in her own way, but i just crave being coddled and loved - two things she was never great at doing. while my mom instilled the necessity of being independent and strong, i never had a space to be vulnerable or depend on somebody. she never really gave me rules, so there was little i couldn’t do. because of that, now i crave structure and discipline where i never had it growing up. having a mommy kink can mean a lot of different things to different people, but the way i look at it… the way i look at you, i see a nurturing, confident, beautiful woman who does love and coddle me—quite a bit, i might add.” you laugh lightly at your half-hearted jab and then continue.

“so yes, to me, you perfectly encapsulate someone whom i’d wanna call mommy—to obey, love and cherish.”

as soon as you start talking, explaining what this all meant to you, you couldn’t stop. you yearned to have her understand and to grasp onto this concept that you saw her as the safest space in the whole world.

you watch her take everything in, her expression always thoughtful. a warm smile grew on her face, a light growing within her eyes. “oh, sweetheart, come here.” she reaches her arm across your body, pulling you into her. you straddle her, easily settling into the comforting space of her lap. she wraps her arms tightly around your smaller frame, resting her cheek against your head as you nuzzle your face into her neck.

“you’re so precious, you know that? my precious girl.” she hums into your ear before kissing your hair. she rocks the both of you gently from side to side as you embrace, her perfume with hints of pears, fig leaves and sap filling your nose.

“you know something, baby?” she loosens her hold on you, gently grasping your hips to pull you back so she can look into your pretty eyes. “i like it when you call me mommy,” her voice drops an octave, her eyes twinkling, and she smirks at your reaction. your cheeks flush and you smile a bit bashfully, your head tilting into your shoulder. “you do?” you ask, suddenly feeling a little shy again under her intense gaze.

“mhmm, i do honey love. mmmm, you’re just too damn cute for your own good.” her hands come up to cradle your face, as she leans closer to you. you think she means to kiss you, but instead she tilts your head up, her lips kissing along your jaw in search of a certain spot on your neck. wanda knew your body like the back of her hand. she knew what spots drove you crazy and which ones made you yearn for more.

“wanda.. quit that!” you whine softly, catching on to her drift. there were certain spots on your neck that if she kissed or nipped just right, it tickled more than anything else.

wanda hums against your skin, licking at the spot as you try half heartedly to push her away. her arms wrap around you again, holding you firmly in place. “no, i don’t think i will,” she purrs and then chuckles darkly next to your ear as she feels you struggling more earnestly. deciding to up the ante, one of her hands starts to dig into your side, your ticklish ribs falling victim to her game. you squeak and squirm against her, attempting to slide off her lap but she’s having none of it. in one swift movement, she all but swings you around until your back hits the mattress. she quickly climbs atop of you, her legs straddling your hips. “you can make this all stop now you know, if you say something for me..” her voice was taunting as she wiggles her fingers just above your body.

“what??” you demand, hoping to halt this attack before it really begins. you were really ticklish. your nerves were already alight with anticipation as you watch her hands ever so slowly slip under your sleep shirt. your belly clenches as her fingernails lightly scratch their way up your torso.

“give me a minute to think of something, hmm? you’re just so cute all pliant and eager to appease me right now,” she bites her lip, unsuccessfully masking her grin. she spiders her fingers down your sides and you arch your back, a soft squeal sounding in the back of your throat. you refused to give her the reaction she was looking for. her persistence in trying to get you to squirm and giggle under her only brought out your stubborn attitude. you press your lips together, trying to will the ticklishness out of your body. her eyes burn into yours as she senses your obstinance. her eyes crinkle as she smiles, excited at the mere aspect of trying to get you to crack a small laugh.

she traces one finger down your stomach before she gathers both of your wrists in her one hand, holding them above your head. given your unwillingness to let her see that she was getting to you, you allow her to entrap your hands without struggle. she hums as her finger traces down the slope of your nose and past your lips. you snap at her, your teeth clacking and she chuckles warmly at the action.

“c’mon, you know you wanna laugh for me… just the tiniest little snicker or a small tittle..” her voice was warm like honey, which would have been comforting if you were in a different situation. one of her hands tickles at your tummy, her other one digging into your ribs. unable to contain your reaction now, you giggle gleefully. the light sound was satisfying as it hit wanda’s ears. you looked so adorable, all squirmy and helpless under her.

“oh my, that looks like it really tickles.” she laughs with you, her body moving around with yours as you attempt to shake and buck her off.

your brain was becoming a scrambled, fuzzy mess the more your body struggled against her. your desperation grew with each ticking second. no matter how you thrashed or wriggled around, it didn’t help your predicament. wanda knew just where to get you, spurred on by your reactions.

“wand-mommy! please! stop! stop!” you yelp, your wrists rubbing together and twisting in her grasp as you try in vain to pull your arms down.

wanda gasps playfully, her fingers slowing down. “what was that? i couldn’t hear you..” you groan, the feeling of helplessness continuing to wash over you in waves. “please..please stop!” you whine, quieter more reluctant giggles falling in between your words.

“oh darling, you know i can’t understand you when you giggle so much. say that again?” her grin was sinfully amused. you wished you could smack the smug expression right off her perfect face. “mommy please-please stop!” you try again, figuring she wanted you to pull the mommy card once more.

she hums again, sounding pleased. she could see your face starting to turn red from all the laughter and so she decided to show you some mercy, her hands finally halting their ticklish actions. “okay, okay, i’m done malysh.” she murmurs, her hand that was imprisoning your wrists loosening. she leans down, placing sweet kisses along your face. you clutch at her shirt, your legs wrapping around her body, wanting to feel closer to her. she smiles to herself at your clinginess, her lips pausing as they place one final kiss against your jaw.

“i’m sorry dorogoya.. i knew you were ticklish but i didn’t know you were that ticklish,” she muses, tucking some hair behind your ear. your cheeks heat in delicate embarrassment and you take advantage of your freed hands now by smacking her arm.

“hey, be nice to your mommy. you know if you act up, i’ll just have to punish you..” you gasp softly, the prospect of her punishing you instantly sets a flame in your lower belly. she leans closer to you, pecking your lips. “hmm you like that idea, don’t you?” you feel her grin against your lips. you nod, your eager eyes set on hers. she takes mental note of your reaction, finding that she herself was excited at the idea of punishing you.

“something tells me you’ll have earned a punishment or two before our little weekend is over,” she purrs, imagining the various ways you may choose to act up in the next couple of days. “i have to admit, mommy’s a little excited to find out just how bratty you can be.”

you raise your eyebrows, a small smirk forming on your lips. “you’re probably gonna wish you didn’t just say that…”

[yandere-romanticaa]

Recently, the surge of AI has caught everyone's attention and I've been working on this little experiment.

Down below the cut are two fics and this is how I planned it - one was made up by using AI (more specifically, Chat Gpt) while the other one was written by yours truly. Below both fics will be a poll and I would like for you, my dear readers, to guess which one was AI. Personally, I don't think it'll be a difficult challenge but seeing your reactions and comments on this should prove to be an interesting endeavor.

This was posted on April 17th. And, in 7 days, I shall reveal which fic was written by me, and which one was done by AI.

Now then, let's get on with the show.

🥀 Story One.

In the dimly lit alleyways of Yokohama, Fyodor Dostoevsky stalks his obsession, (y/n), with unwavering determination. His fixation transcends reason, driving him to extreme lengths to possess (y/n)'s affection.

Fyodor's obsession with (y/n) began innocently enough, a mere curiosity sparked by their untapped potential and innocence. But as time passed, that curiosity twisted into an all-consuming desire, festering within Fyodor's mind like a venomous serpent.

Each night, Fyodor would follow (y/n) from a distance, his heart pounding with anticipation and longing. He would watch as (y/n) laughed with their friends, oblivious to the dark presence lurking in the shadows.

But Fyodor's love was not the gentle, nurturing kind. It was possessive, suffocating, and dangerously obsessive. He couldn't bear the thought of (y/n) belonging to anyone but him, couldn't stand the idea of anyone else basking in the warmth of (y/n)'s smile.

As his obsession deepened, Fyodor's mind became consumed with dark fantasies of possessing (y/n) completely. He would spend hours meticulously planning every detail of their future together, envisioning a life where they were inseparable.

But fantasies were not enough for Fyodor. He needed to make them a reality, no matter the cost. And so, he began to weave a web of deception and manipulation, carefully orchestrating events to bring (y/n) closer to him and drive away anyone who dared to stand in their way.

But as Fyodor's plans grew more elaborate, so too did the danger. (y/n)'s friends grew suspicious of Fyodor's intentions, sensing something sinister lurking beneath his charming facade. And as they delved deeper into Fyodor's past, they uncovered secrets that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed world.

But Fyodor was not about to let anyone come between him and his beloved. He would do whatever it took to protect their love, even if it meant resorting to violence.

🥀 Story Two.

Shimmering waves of starlight engulfed the man in white as he monitored his target from a safe distance, hollow purple eyes gleaming with excitement. He could feel his long fingers twitching with anticipation in his warm pockets, a stark contrast to the chilly wind on this fine spring evening.

He needed to be patient. Because patience was indeed, a virtue.

And Fyodor was a virtuous man. Perhaps not a good one, but he would gladly take the title of virtue.

Would you bestow upon him such a title? Would you do so, if you ever found out that he had taken such a keen interest in you? The rational part in his mind said no, of course not. Unlike him, you were blessed with normalcy. There was nothing extraordinary about you - no ability, no wealth, no status.

Nothing.

You could have been squished like a bug beneath his heel and the world would just keep on going as it always would. Sure, there would be some individuals who would miss you dearly but even they would move on at some point.

Such was the nature of humanity. How cruel, he thought to himself.

Fortunately for you, Fyodor was no ordinary man. Despite his predicament, he had grown fond of you. He was not sure why but after a while, he stopped asking such trifling questions as to why he troubled himself by giving you so much attention.

It was pointless to make sense of the senseless.

Right here, right now, all he wanted was to enjoy this quiet evening by his lonesome, as he tailed behind you like a creeping shadow. He would reveal himself to you properly when the time was right, when he felt you were strong enough to take him.

Fyodor just needed to wait a little bit longer, just long enough to see how he should proceed with you in case things went south.

In the meantime, he would gladly spend every waking moment simply watching you for his own personal pleasure.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enoojnij, @ishqani, @osachiyo, @bluepeanutharmony, @kaithegremlin, @fyodorscockslut, @wcayaw, @luna-mariko-akatsuki, @lovelyyz, @queenofspades403

APRIL 24TH - Story One is AI.

[edwinspaynes]

My Case for Why Only Romantic Payneland Would Feel Truly Satisfying

Last night, I made a poll about whether people would be satisfied with QPR Payneland. I was curious where we stood on this as a fandom, and it's cool that it's about 50/50 between "either would be okay" and "I want them romantic."

Preface: I'm a monogamous biromantic asexual. If you were wondering. I have been in both a queerplatonic relationship (where I had a one-sided romantic crush on my QPP) and a few romantic relationships with both men and women.

Preface II: This post is not at all intended to be judgmental of any type of relationship. Poly people are awesome; aro/ace people in QPRs rock. This is specifically examining what is right for Charles and Edwin.

Preface III: I think that Edwin and Charles have definitely been in an unlabeled QPR since the beginning. They don't have the word for it, but it definitely is a QPR. They aren't romantically involved, but they make major decisions surrounding the other one and feel like they would wither up and die if they had to live in separate places.

This was great up until now, I think. A QPR is very valuable, very special, and very beautiful. It's meaningful and has served them wonderfully up until this point.

But it isn't sustainable for these specific characters.

The Need for Exclusivity in Both a QPR and a Romantic Relationship

I think that with no other external factors impacting my media needs, I would be okay with an exclusive QPR Payneland.

@tumblerislovetumblerislife astutely said:

I do not think that there is any world where they're suited for polyamory - this is honestly my biggest nope-out of fics and I deeply, deeply hate it for them.

This is because:

They already feel like a Pair Set to me that cannot be separated or infringed on by anyone else, and

In the end, it would never be fair to a romantic (or other platonic) partner because they would unplug anyone else's life support to charge the other's phone. No one else would ever be the priority over the other, and if they did, that would be OOC.

Even if they decided to date someone else now in the short-term, like Crystal or the Cat King, it's necessarily temporary. It's to Figure Things Out. There is an expiration date. And whether that's due to a romantic or a platonic bond between Edwin and Charles, their bond being stronger than any other is the reason for that expiration date.

So polyamory feels extremely disingenuous to their characters to me and is imo extremely OOC.

Authenticity to the Story

Edwin is currently, in the explicit canon, essentially Charles's QPP who has a one-sided crush on him. That is the explicit canon. It's not a fun place to be, no matter how much your QPP loves you - I have Been There.

Edwin is not unhappy or dissatisfied with the current situation, and he knows Charles loves him. But it still is kind of a sucky place to sit.

Luckily, the love does not actually feel one-sided! Charles reads as a character that has always been romantically in love with Edwin, probably long before Edwin fell romantically in love with Charles, but he neither has the self-awareness nor the words to describe it.

Charles touching his heart at the end of episode 8 makes it clear that he is beginning to have his Big Epiphany. I wish the show wasn't canceled because, uh, I want it.

This obvious two-sided romantic love makes a future QPR feel inauthentic to me. I think both characters would feel like it was the wrong shape for the relationship after they both had their epiphanies.

Other Media Considerations

I understand that a lot of people, it's important to have an explicitly-labeled QPR in a show. I do not disagree with this! I think we need WAY more QPRs in media that are explicitly labeled as such and treated as valid. I just don't think that it's right for Charles and Edwin.

I've explained why this is true from a character perspective; but let me also talk about how relationships like theirs are treated.

I'm personally sick of the "bond-beyond-bonds relationship that remains purely platonic." We saw it with Destiel onscreen because of the rancid queerbaiting in Supernatural; we saw it in Johnlock as a direct result of similar, albeit less magnified, queerbaiting.

This is, to me, the exact type of relationship that a QPR between Edwin and Charles would be.

It would be different. I know this. There is no world where DBDA is queerbaiting us; we have a gay MC and tons of queer side characters.

But to me, platonic Payneland being endgame would still feel like a betrayal because that endgame would feel like something adjacent to the endings of other shows that have queerbaited in the past. I feel like a huge appeal of DBDA is that it's beginning to right those wrongs and heal those wounds, and I firmly believe that's one intention of the show. It would feel unkind to the bulk of viewers for them not to end up together.

I think that the show ultimately was going to make them romantic endgame. It just didn't have the time to before getting the axe, which SUCKS.

So yeah. These are my personal thoughts. I hope I've articulated some of the things that a lot of you think.

[seannessy]

⚠️POLITICS⚠️

haha bet you forgot through the shitposts that i have a bachelor's degree in political science

here's a bunch of reasons why Kamala Harris is going to win the presidency because i can never find the effort to edit this into a video:👇

1. The current polls are VERY biased towards republicans. Most large polls just take the averages of other smaller polls, and right now the GOP has been dumping LOTS OF MONEY into publishing a lot of fluff polls in swing states to make themselves look better and to get more donations. Democrats don't usually publish their polls publicly. Odds are it's another red mirage.

2. The majority of people who Trump is catering to just don't vote. A lot of the latest pushes in the Aiden Ross Gamerbro communities are not reliable voters, even as loud as they are online. You cannot convince me that the twitter edgelord crowd has ever even seen a ballot in their lives.

3. In elections canvassing matters by about 300% more than advertising (my own ballpark estimate, not a specific datapoint, but still very true having worked in both canvassing and campaign marketing). The only people signing up to canvass for Trump are just stealing Elon's money, meanwhile people are flying out from all 50 states to swing states to canvass for Kamala.

4. "This is Hillary Clinton all over again." No it isn't. Hundreds of papers have been published that all agree that the reason Hillary lost (besides the Michigan debacle) was that largely a lot of people already assumed she was going to win, and so they didn't go out to vote. Sean Westwood did a really good paper on this in 2018, the more likely you are expected to win, the less of your supporters turn out. The entire narrative is that Kamala is either tied or behind, so anyone who supports her will NOT be sitting this one out.

5. Kamala just did a MASSIVE rally event in Texas. Texas. In this part of the campaign, any sane strategist would tell you to do ALL campaigning in the swing states, so this makes no sense... unless internal democrat polls are saying that Texas is now winnable for democrats. I will remind you that Texas is not NEARLY as red as the stereotype says, and Greg Abbot has himself previously said that Texas would have gone blue if not for all of the voter suppression he did. I'm not joking. This is real. The only reason Texas is still Lean Red instead of Moderate Blue is because of insane levels of voter suppression by Texas GOP.

6. When turnout is low, republicans win. When turnout is high, democrats win. Turnout is already STUPIDLY high in the early voting metrics. Even higher than 2020 (which i will remind you, we won) in some cases.

7. Voter demographics just aren't on Trump's side here. Lots of republicans have bled out of Trumpism, and in a close enough race as this one looks to be even a few thousand republicans deciding to stay home could make or break it in a lot of states. Additionally, while Trump has made a lot of progress in minority voters (daily reminder that the median voter is stupid enough for "median voter" to be used as a slur in political science communities), Kamala has the white woman vote locked down. And oh no! Look at that! Which voter demographic is orders of magnitudes both larger and more active voters than all of the minority demographics that Trump has been gaining in? Yep! Kamala's lead in the white woman demographic has entirely erased Trump's gains in other communities. Abortion was the final nail in the coffin of republican chances, they took the mask off too early. The dog caught the car and didn't know what to do with it.

8. Voter demographics are STILL not on Trump's side even ignoring all that other stuff, because keep in mind, Trump voters have largely been older people, and the waves of people who elected him previously have... well they've kind of died. Covid really didn't help with that. I mean obviously not everyone, but like, this is a close race, and a very large chunk of those voters have been reincarnated as plants or whatever now.

9. "The X Factor" is 100% on Kamala's side. By that I mean just the force of raw charisma, the Kamala campaign is just more appealing and less unnerving to the general population. I really hate to keep hammering this but oh my god dude have you SEEN JD Vance????? Even after the debate where he performed as best as he possibly could and Walz performed as bad as he possibly could, samples STILL said they supported Walz over Vance by a factor of 85 PERCENT.

10. "The Shy Trump Effect." There's a myth a lot of people believe that Trump underperforms in polls and overperforms in elections because voters are shy to admit they're fans of him. A few things. #1: This was disproved so many times, including in Sean Westwood's previously mentioned paper. #2: Even after it's disproved, many polls already factor it into their calculations, which is actually INFLATING his odds in the polls. #3: Anyone who would have been a Shy Trump Supporter either just isn't going to vote this election cycle or is going to follow the Cheney's lead and vote for Kamala instead. This is probably the one election in our entire lives where Democrats have appealed to the right and it actually fucking worked.

11. Polymarket. A lot of people point to the new Polymarket as evidence that Trump has a lot of support among the average joe crowd. These people have no idea how the Polymarket works. American citizens legally can't bet in it, and the only way to get around that is by using Crypto. How many tech illiterate boomers do you think are going to know how to use both Crypto and a VPN? All of Trump's support there is coming from techbro whales or people in other countries. Infact, I think the number was that about a whopping 30% of all bets made on the side of Trump were sourced back to this one French Billionaire.

That being said, it's not a predetermined victory. Currently I'd put the odds at anywhere between 60-40 and 70-30 in favor of Kamala, but that still leaves Trump plenty of room.

The moral of the story is that things aren't hopeless! We have a very good shot at winning--as long as we all keep pushing like hell!

Oh also, if they try another Jan 6th, reminder that Biden is now the one in control of the military and national guard at the capital. Lol, Lmao, even.

[matan4il]

Hello

I saw a comment you made in your post about eurovision that had a statistic of 90% of Jews are Zionists (I think this is what it said but I might be wording it wrong, in which case I'm sorry) and I wanted to know if you had a source for this information? I'm genuinely curious because I don't think I've heard this before.

Hi Nonnie!

It's so funny, that statistic is actually so very commonly recited among Jews, it's a reminder that what we consider "basic knowledge" is often more about our specific environment and experience, rather than a universal principle.

Okay, so to be accurate, this statistic is an estimate based on separate polls and indicators from different Jewish communities around the world, because as far as I know, no one has ever done a global survey on Zionism among Jews. Usually, this would make me somewhat reserved, but honestly, the localized polls and indicators are so consistent, and in every community we find that the overwhelming majority of Jews ARE Zionist, that I think the 90% of Jews are Zionist is somewhere between reliable to possibly even being a bit of an underestimate.

Something I find interesting, is that where they posed two questions, which asked Jews, "Are you a Zionist?" and another that asked, "Do you believe Israel has the right to exist?" the answer was affirmative in higher percentages for the latter. It's a little like the difference between asking, "Are you a feminist?" and "Do you believe women deserve equal rights?" Where the word 'feminist' has been vilified, and distorted, people might hesitate to define themselves that way, despite believing in equal rights for women (even though that's the basic belief of a feminist), answering "no" to the former and "yes" to the latter. Similarly, the belief in Israel's right to exist IS the definition of a Zionist, while the term itself is being demonized. You believe in a right for the Jewish state to exist, just like a state for every other nation has the right to exist, or even just based on the fact that a Jewish state already exists and destroying it would be a disastrous act of ethnic cleansing? Congrats, you're a Zionist. You can be critical of its current government, but you're still a Zionist. It's that simple. The fact that even when people are sometimes reluctant to define themselves as Zionist, they still believe in the fundamental principle of Zionism, is what leads me to believe that even some of these surveys, if they only ask, "Are you a Zionist?" are actually an underrepresentation of how many Jews are Zionist.

I hope this helps! Have a good day!

(for more of my posts regarding antisemitism and Israel, click here)

[lycandrophile]

I bet the transfem tag doesn’t have half as much transmasc porn deliberately tagged wrong as the transmasc tag has transfem porn

For every transmasc post I see there’s two porn accounts to block

Just pisses me off. I want to see posts about transmascs!!!

while i think you are probably right about the fact that there isn’t going to be as much transmasc porn in the transfem tag (though i can’t say i’m 100% certain, it’s not like i’ve ever scrolled through both tags and actually counted) and i do find the amount of porn in our tags frustrating, i want to talk a bit about the way this issue is being framed.

the thing you have to remember about porn bots is that you can’t think of them as real people. the whole point of them is to make money by pushing those links into popular tags so as many people see them as possible. they want people to click the link, so they show it to as many people as they can. so when you see these posts, you have to keep in mind that there’s not an individual person sitting behind a screen making specific decisions about whose tags to fuck over or what kind of porn to advertise, those decisions are most likely made based on some sort of algorithm designed to make as much money as possible.

so let’s think about it critically — why might we be seeing so much transfem porn in transmasc tags?

well, a lot of these bots are probably using our tag because tumblr has a lot of transmascs who use those tags. the trans communities on different sites are going to have different demographics, and if you’ve ever seen a poll going around with different choices for transmascs and transfems, you’ve seen just how dramatic the difference in numbers on here can be. these bots are targeting our tags because there are a lot of us here and we tend to be very active which means the bots have a better chance of getting clicks, not because an actual person decided they wanted to fuck over our tags specifically.

and why does the porn tend to be transfem porn? i can’t say for sure, but i’ll tell you my theories. first of all, i’m guessing these bots are using trans porn because tumblr has a lot of very active trans tags, and they probably take that into account — they assume that people in trans tags are more likely to want trans porn. the tag matches the link’s key words in that way, so that’s what their formula for getting clicks thinks we want to see. and i’m guessing it’s transfem porn specifically because there’s just more of that — transfem porn is much easier to find than transmasc porn, and it’s also probably seen as a better bet for these bots because being more popular means more people will want to click it. and that doesn’t stem from people preferring transfems over transmascs or anything like that, it stems from the rampant fetishization of transfems. these accounts aren’t actual transfem sex workers choosing to put their content in the transmasc tags, they’re bots doing what they think is going to make money. they don’t care how transfems feel about it being used and they don’t care how transmascs feel about seeing it instead of what we were actually looking for.

so while i absolutely share your frustration with our tags being overrun with porn, i don’t like how the issue has been framed by a lot of people as a transmasc vs transfem issue. i get how on the surface, it seems like our tags are having more of a problem with it and that must be for a reason, but the reason doesn’t actually have anything to do with our identities — it has everything to do with what bots think is the best way to get us to click their links.

this problem has nothing to do with transmasc vs transfem, and everything to do with the fact that tumblr won’t take care of its bot problem. if you want to get mad at someone for the fact that you can’t see the content you’re looking for without wading through countless porn bots, that’s where your anger should be going: toward the site that hasn’t done anything about it.

i wanted to lay this all out because while you didn’t explicitly blame transfems for this issue in your ask (you more so just said they don’t have to deal with it to the degree we do), i’ve seen posts with a similar tone that do imply that transfems are somehow behind this issue, and that honestly frustrates me more than the issue itself. blaming transfems for this isn’t fair to them — this is a bot issue, not an issue with real people on the site — and it also doesn’t do us any favors because it makes people less likely to take us seriously when we talk about things that are actually specifically targeting our community spaces.

and even though you didn’t take that explicit blaming stance in your ask, i think this issue being brought up as a “transmasc issue” at all reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of exactly why it happens the way it does. so i want this to serve as a reminder that when we have a conversation about something in our community, we have to think critically about the way we’re framing that conversation and make sure we have a good understanding of the root of the problem at hand.

because this really isn’t an issue that should be framed as transmasc vs transfem. i’m sure it’s not any less frustrating for transfems to see porn that fetishizes their bodies plastered all over the site than it is for us to have to dig through that porn to find the content we’re looking for. and it’s not really an issue that has anything to do with the fact that the tags are for transmascs at all. you say someone is deliberately mistagging into our tags, but it’s deliberate on a level that has nothing to do with the individual tags being used.

if we want to have conversations about the ways transmascs are uniquely mistreated, that comes with a responsibility to make sure the things we talk about are actually examples of a unique form of mistreatment and not symptoms of a totally different issue. we have to be careful not to pick the wrong battles, especially if doing so could artificially pit us against transfems who haven’t actually done anything wrong.

i worry that the struggles we’ve had in making our voices heard within our community have made some of us start to see our transfem sisters and siblings as the enemy by default, so i want to strongly caution everyone contributing to these conversations to think deeply about how you’re framing what you’re saying and if it’s actually appropriate before suggesting that any particular issue is a matter of transmascs vs transfems. there are definitely situations where the root of the issue is lateral aggression or intracommunity conflict, but this isn’t one of them and the fact that so many people have interpreted it that way really doesn’t reflect well on us.

i’m just as annoyed by the porn bots in our tags as the next guy, but this isn’t the way to go about having that conversation.

[romanoffsbish]

…And I, Chose You

Scarlett Johansson x F!R

After watching your broken love unfold on canvas Scarlett has to fight her fears (and a jaded you) to win her love back / Aka, the part 2 to Maroon that won the poll | WC: 2,121

Your heart pounded in your chest as you allowed Scarlett into the free flowing space, you weren’t exactly rich so there were no massive walls to separate your kitchen from the quaint little living room—you had meant it when you called yourself a starving artist.

“Your place is nice,” she attempted the dreaded small talk, her voice a pitch higher as she willed her heart to relax, and her thoughts to stop racing. You laughed, it was a familiar sound that made her wary soul ache.

“I’m serious Y/N/N,” she groaned, the familiar use of your nickname brought a smile to your hidden face. “You’ve got a flair for making places feel like home.”

——

Scarlett hated the way your shoulders tensed, and the mugs in your hands clinked on the counter. Her words were genuine but you were unfamiliarly guarded. She once told you, while drifting off to sleep against your chest, that you were what made her house a home.

Then she ripped your heart out and left you alone.

What used to be an easygoing relationship was now tainted, shrouded in collective shame, and despair.

You settled onto the couch following the long, awkward moment of silence, her warm mug of tea, made to her specifications was set before her where she sat on your recliner with her feet tucked beneath her tiny frame. It went untouched as all she could do was savor being in such close proximity to you, her glassy eyes remained focused on your aged face. Another reminder of the precious time she had lost with you, and all the reason she needed to finally make a decision to fight for love.

Scarlett went to speak, but your tired voice cut her off, “What are you doing here Scar? Don’t you have promos to run for the next movie? With your little boy toy?” The contempt was obvious, she was sure it stemmed from the way she’d usually promoted the films with her ex fling Chris, with the kind eyes and charming smile.

“Can we please not fight?” Scarlett’s eyes were duller than ever before, normally you would give in to her pleas, but this was your home she’d wandered into and you felt an unrelenting urge to defend it. “If you were looking for the girl who bends to your every whim she is back in 2019, you’re now meeting a loveless edition.”

“As if,” the blonde snorted, “You’re a total sap Y/N.”

“Love is an illusion Scarlett, end of the discussion.”

Scarlett watched you jump up from the couch, and just as she expected you began to pace the tiny kitchen. If you wanted a fight, then the award winning actress would give you one for the books. “If love is an illusion then I guess I’m a fucking magician Y/N because no matter how hard I try I can’t stop myself from loving you, but more importantly I don’t ever want to.”

“It’s been two years Scarlett, you don’t know me!”

Scarlett scoffed, “You are unbelievable!” The way you flinched didn’t even deter her as she walked over to you, her body pressing yours into the counter as her hand raised to slap you across the cheek for making such asinine remarks. As if she didn’t know you wholly and love you just the same. You were all she wanted.

Then she saw a flicker of hurt in your eyes, and instead of letting her anger win she cupped your jaw and softly spoke, “You eat your sandwiches without the crust.” Your eyes crinkled and she had to fight the urge to kiss away your obvious confusion. “You truly have the palette of a child Y/N, I might have been absent from your life, but I know you still live off PB&J’s.”

“That’s nothing more than a counter observation.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she sighed, but then she shook her head with a reminiscent smile on her face. “You hate when people interrupt you, it always drives you up the wall that people can’t wait their turn,” she noted something that’s standard for most, but before you can state that she continues, “Except for when it’s a child because you love their impatient wonder.”

Scarlett felt a sense of accomplishment when she saw your eyes had sparkled, she knew you were likely thinking of her family get togethers with her nieces. Which took her back to all of the functions where you were welcomed like one of their own, which you were. “You despise sports Y/N, but you always indulged my family for the super bowl, because you cared so much.”

“I went for the food,” you deadpanned to keep from letting her know that this attempt was working on your soft heart. “I know, my mom glares at me now that your seat is forever empty. She misses your reviews.”

You bit your cheek, and closed your eyes to cover your sadness. Scarlett saw right through you though. “They all miss you—I miss you Y/N, and I know that you are just hiding behind the hurt that I caused right now, but I know you miss me too. I am your muse after all.”

“I said that stuff to keep people from falling apart, if I left them with only morose thoughts they’d never come to another one of my gallery’s. It was only business…”

“Only business?” You nodded, eyes fixed in a glare that genuinely left the blonde amused. You were trying so hard to make it seem like you hated her, but she could see right through to the hurt in your gorgeous eyes. Scarlett rolled her own in good faith, and continued on as her thumb tenderly traced over your clenched jaw. “Decades of separation could go by and I’d still know you Y/N, not because you are predictable, but because you are my soulmate, and souls don’t truly change.”

“I mean it Scarlett, I’m not who I once was,” you were losing your fight, just like she hoped for. “Bullshit.”

“I have changed!” Scarlett hummed as her head nodded. “I know you have honey, but deep down you are still my very special girl, the one who runs with the facade of hopelessness but with every stroke of your heart you bled our unenviable love onto the canvas.”

“I-I,” your voice wavered, and her thumb gently ran over your chewed up bottom lip that now trembled. “Give me a chance Y/N, I promise it’ll be different.”

“Scarlett, I can’t be your secret, not again, not ever.” The blonde smiled, a direct contrast to your mood as you struggled not to cry. “There’s no more hiding,” she coo’d, her delicate voice comforting you along with her soft hands that wiped away the tears that finally fell.

“You’ll be my plus one to the Black Widow premiere.”

“Scarlett—.” The blonde leaned in and kissed you hard, the worried words faded from your mind as your hands moved to position themselves on her hips. Your head tilted, allowing her the opportunity to deepen the kiss and there was no hesitation as her tongue met yours. Soft moans followed the smacking of lips and harsh breaths left your nostrils to prevent the inevitable. “I’m going to make it right Y/N,” Scarlett panted against your glistening lips. “I’ll love you out in the open this time, and you can create with a much happier stroke.”

You wanted to believe her, this time felt different than all the other times she made similar promises, but you were still bruised, and therefore wary of her intentions. “How will this work?” You inquired without missing a beat. “You live on the other side of the states Scar.” The blonde frowned, never thinking of this presenting as an obstacle. “Simple, you’ll come home with me Y/N.”

“Please don’t say no,” she begged, already seeing your rebuttal coming. “I don’t want to be back there Scar.”

“That’s fine baby; I moved, I couldn’t live there without you, so I found somewhere different. Hopeful that it would be what helped me move on, but I began to fill the space with subtle reminders of you. I ignored their connection until my mom laughed in my face one day.”

Scarlett saw the question in your eyes and sighed, “I began eating PB&J’s every morning, I danced alone to your favorite vinyls and I might have bought all of your online pieces when you posted them, thinking that maybe your art could be your placeholder, but it just never was enough of you. I needed the real thing.”

“I don’t know Scar, this feels like a gamble.” The blonde nodded, “That’s what love is Y/N/N, not an illusion—it’s real, but it’s messy and comes with risk.”

“I’m not sure I have it in me to risk losing it all again.”

“I’m not sure of much myself baby, but I know this, without you around I feel like my life is empty, but with you in my arms like this I feel unbound, like nothing could ever break me again, besides you. This will be our fresh start, so please, just don’t say no.”

You took a step to the side, freeing yourself from her intoxicating hold so that you could think clearly. You sat back down on the couch, silently patted the spot beside you to calm her nerves, but made her wait for your resounding yes as she’d took so long to do this. It was only fair that she didn’t get an instant response.

Scarlett suddenly stood, hands shaking out at her sides as she faced the prospect that the desperate kiss you two just shared was in vain. Maybe she was too late, and if so she would just have to face the karmic reality. “I’m staying at the Chateau Marmont Y/N, my number is the same, whether you want to try again or not, I just want you to know that I will forever love you.” You said nothing still, letting her walk outside with a sad smile.

Scarlett cried the entire way to her car, her head fell onto the horn, and startled her into reality. She didn’t want to draw attention to your place, so she put the keys into the ignition with plans to cry at her hotel. Just as the blonde was about to start her engine she saw your front door fly open, and after a moment of pause she speedily jumped out of the car to meet your urgent steps. “Kiss me,” you commanded, she was a bit taken aback, but then she saw the test in your eyes just before her rushed hands pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.

Everything around you two seemed to fade, lips locked in perfect harmony, even with the flash of a strangers camera trying to capture the moment. You felt as her hand cupped your face more broadly, it alarmed you momentarily, until you realized she was shielding you from them, not hiding. “I’ll come with you Scarlett.”

Her lips, painted a delicate shade of maroon lifted, and for the first time in forever you felt unending joy; you were finally home again, in the arms of your forever.

———

Bonus:

You stepped out of the Cadillac, the tinted windows no longer there to shield you from the perilous crowd that had awaited you outside the metal door. You saw the many faces of her fans, all with their eyes on you, and the dirty looks of a few made your skin crawl. Most of them regarded you with a smile or indifference, but the others looked to you as if you’d crushed their dreams.

Scarlett was quick to take your hand in hers, helping the anxiety to melt away as she kissed your cheek with a purpose before she pulled you along the red carpet. Her every move was calculated as she spoke to the fans that regarded you with the respect you deserved. With the excuse of limited time she disregarded the others, then guided you into the event with a protective arm around your waist, and her free hand still in yours.

You’d attempted to let her go, aware that this event was her moment to finally shine, but she only fixed you with her best, heatless glare as she pulled you closer. There was no Natasha Romanoff without you, the one who pushed her to go to the audition after you helped her practice her lines. Just like there’s no Scarlett Johansson without you either, you were her lifeline, and it was about damn time the world knew that.

[huaidanta]

Analysis: Why I think Fuuta was actually wrong to make his post about the university professor in Bring It On

[Originally a Twitter thread so it may read a bit clunky]

I've been thinking a lot about this sort of belief that Fuuta only really went wrong in the case of Miss Magic/Killcheroy and it got me to consider the other targets in Bring It On.

In particular, I was curious about how people viewed the second case (Rypirotes). Compared to the other subjects, this one had a clear victim and a much more serious offense. The university professor committed sexual harassment which definitely calls for some sort of action.

I made a Twitter poll asking if Fuuta was justified in making his tweet outting the university professor for sexual harassment and the overwhelming majority (78.4%) said yes.

However, I don't agree with Fuuta making the post and I'll explain why:

Fuuta taking a photo of the scene is represented by 3 different texts appearing in front of him. "SHUTTER", "chance", and "盗撮".

Wait... "chance"? To me, "chance" makes it sound like Fuuta sees this as an opportunity, rather than as something genuinely horrible.

Even worse, the kanji that appears here is specifically used to describe non-consensual photography like upskirt shots and peeping photos. They've directly correlated Fuuta taking a photo of the situation as something perverse and violating.

Like... just think about it. Fuuta took a photo of a woman in an incredibly vulnerable situation and put it on the internet for everyone to look at, without ever getting her consent.

As a man, Fuuta has more social power to directly intervene and stop the harassment... We also know he's a coward. Even so, couldn't he have tried reporting it to other authorities at the university? Or at least checked to see if that woman was okay?

We can infer that Fuuta never directly did anything because he was walking the university hallways at 12:25, witnessed the scene and left (we see him leave!!), made a tweet at 12:46, posted the photo at 12:58, and was checking the post at 15:01 (?) from his seat in class.

In his post, Fuuta asks for the others to report this to the university. Why didn't Fuuta do it himself?

Instead, one of the first things he does is tweet "I found a bad guy". He isn't horrified this is happening, he's EXCITED that he gets to broadcast it.

Fuuta and the repliers don't actually care about the wellbeing of the woman. No one expresses real concern for her, they just want a bad guy to take down.

As Es says in Fuuta's T2 VD, this is a game—entertainment—to them.

I also want to point out this comment in particular, because it shows that Fuuta didn't even blur her face out!!!

There's an irony in that by publicly calling out the professor for violating a woman's boundaries and consent, Fuuta's violated those very same things.

It's the only "fight" in Bring It On with a real tangible victim but she's treated as insignificant.

In conclusion, I don't think Fuuta was right to make that post because he never bothered to truly help the victim. The post only further violated her boundaries to serve Fuuta's own selfish interests.

It's easy to get swept up in the desire for retribution and miss that there are real people that were—and continue to be—hurt.

(MV text translations are from Rochisama)

[pumpkin-bats]

What's Important - Daiki Aomine x Reader

a/n: The poll has spoken! And tbh the results genuinely surprised me. Since Aomine and Akashi tied, I’m gonna do them both! KEEP IN MIND THAT ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP. Thank you. I hope you all enjoy!

summary: He shows up for something important to you that you thought he'd skip.

contains: sfw topics, a bit of personal space invasion, gentle above the neck touching, gender neutral terms for the reader.

wc: 1k+

It wasn't a date or an anniversary, but you'd be lying if you said it didn't feel equally as important.

The thing that set you on the path for your particular set of career goals was a very specific internship. Ever since your third year of college began, you've focused all your energy and efforts towards trying to get said internship. And you had to learn the hard way that it was a high competition, low acceptance, and extremely difficult to qualify for type gig. Yet you made it.

You'd gotten the news earlier that morning as Daiki was getting ready to head out. In your excitement, you'd nearly burned your hand on the stove.

Thanks to your blatant level of enthusiasm, you ended up explaining the situation to your boyfriend before you could accidentally launch an egg at his face trying to silently contain yourself. And with some huffing and puffing, you both settled on plans to celebrate later in the evening.

At the time, you were too blinded by the pure, utter joy that overcame you that you'd forgotten. Now, as you sit on the couch with food spread across the coffee table along with a few other things, you remembered.

The thing is, Daiki isn't the most... timely person. Not to say he didn't treat you well, he did, he just has an issue with showing up to certain events on time, if at all.

The both of you met in your second year of high school. Things started as a tentative friendship, bordering on arch enemies, before it developed into something more around your third year. And over the years you learned a thing or two about his track record in terms of attendance. Namely, how he'd built a bad habit of skipping basketball practice or any other event he deemed unimportant.

As much as you'd like to say it was something you didn't have to worry about anymore, he still had a tendency to miss or skip out on plans the two of you have made. You'll never forget how one time, during the earlier parts of your budding relationship, he bailed on a date for something he refused to specify. That was also the first time you had your first major fight.

All that to say, as the seconds ticked by and it became a good half hour or so past the agreed upon meetup time, you realized this might just be one of those events he deemed unimportant.

You held out hope, but it was a brittle thing. After all, you knew that getting the internship had a bigger effect on you than it did him. Still... you waited a bit longer.

When it was creeping toward a full hour after what you planned for, you slowly stood up and shuffled forward to start putting the food away. It was when you reached for a large bowl of chips, fingertips barely grazing over the rim, that you heard the lock to the front door click before the telltale squeak of it opening.

"Hey, practice ran late so-" You stand there, arm stretched out in midair, staring like a deer caught in the headlights at your boyfriend who'd just stepped into the living room. A towel was slung loosely over the back of his neck and he'd been using one end to scrub at the back of his hair, but paused when his eyes met yours.

"Why do you look so surprised? It's just me." He asked, lowering the towel and raising a brow at your frozen figure.

"You're back," you answered, quite dumbly in fact.

"I live here. And we have the whole-" he gestured vaguely at everything you'd set up and had yet to put away, "Celebration thing for you internship thing."

"Yeah, but... you're actually gonna celebrate it with me." His brows furrowed, a frown creeping onto his face at the baffled way you said it.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, well, no, because I thought- I just-" it took you a second to kick your brain back into gear and unfreeze long enough to spit out a coherent sentence. "I didn't know if you really would. Not to be rude but... you don't have the best track record when it comes to going through with plans."

"What?" His expression soured for a moment, voice dipping low and biting. It lasted for all but a second as he clearly forced himself to relax. 

Daiki stepped into the room, dumping his bag on a nearby chair before moving closer to you. His steps were heavy but they didn't thunder as he approached you. A faint smell of sweat drifted from him and you're suddenly reminded of how, despite his complex with the sport since high school, he continued to play and practice.

"I'm here, aren't I?" In a few strides he stood toe to toe with you, your neck aching from how far back you had to pull your head in order to look up at him. "No way I'd miss something you talked my ear off about all morning."

"That's because it means a lot to me."

"That's why I'm here."

There was a moment where the two of you stared at one another in silence. The deep blue of his eyes glinted under the lamplight, sharp enough to cut. His gaze was intense enough that you needed to fight the urge to take a step back. It felt like electricity snapping and dancing across your skin with the way it prickled under the full weight of his attention.

To help diffuse some of the charged energy in the room, you let a nervous chuckle slip out and poke playfully at his stomach. Though it clearly did nothing when it felt like poking straight concrete.

"I thought you'd say something like 'the only one who can tell me when to do things is me.'" You chuckled weakly at yourself,  pitching your voice a bit lower to mimic his voice. His eye twitched and it's all the warning you get before he moves.

His fingers reached out to glide along your jawline and settled gently on your cheek. Not a caress, but similar enough to it that your breath hitched at the touch. He bent down to be as level with you as his monstrous height allowed him to be. 

There was no escaping the oceanic chasm in his eyes, swallowing in the sight of you and holding you firmly in place. A soft smirk played at his lips when he leaned in close, nose nearly brushing yours.

"The only thing that's more important to me than me, is you."

{Fin!} Thank you for reading ^o^/

[sillylotrpolls]

About Reblog Graphs

Have you ever clicked on the "reblog graph" button of a post? I think they're one of the... well, maybe not greatest features on tumblr ever (polls are probably better), but they're still pretty darn neat.

I want to show some cool patterns I noticed on some recent posts of mine, but first I'll explain how reblog graphs work so you can more easily follow along.

This is pretty long with a bunch of pictures, so click the cut to read more.

How reblog graphs work

If you've never done so before, I invite you to click the notes button on this or any other post and then the icon with four circles. You will then see a bunch of dots connected by lines.

For example, if you click the graph for the "blorbo in Elvish" post, you get something like this:

Now, let's zoom in a bit. You can do this by using the mouse wheel and clicking and dragging around the graph until it's showing what you want. (I don't know how it works on mobile, but presumably it's similar to using Google maps?)

This next screenshot is the bit in the lower right of the graph shown above. However, the graph may not always display in the same way because reblog graphs are re-generated each time you click the "reblog graph" button.

Here you can see that I'm viewing the root post, which is the original post made by me. It's indicated by a circle with a dot inside. You can also see that six people reblogged that post. Each reblog shows as a dot with a line connecting it to the post it was reblogged from.

Now here's a cool thing about reblog graphs: they're interactive! You can click on any dot and see the post it represents and the reblog chain that led to it.

For example, clicking this dot that has several lines emanating out from it shows that it is "2 reblogs deep" and was posted by @cycas.

Got it? Close enough? Cool, now let me show you some neat things I noticed. :D

The Swedish Chef poll and very popular bloggers

My polls tend to average between 500 and 2000 votes, depending on subject matter. The Swedish Chef poll, however, took off and eventually garnered over 22,000 votes. How did that happen? A very popular blog reblogged it about five days in.

Initially, the graph looked like this. (This is the first 200 reblogs.) There's nothing unusual here. You can see that the root post had several reblogs, and that there's another cluster developing around a post by @zagreus. There are also several reblog chains where just one person reblogs someone else's reblog. Some of these chains peter out, while others find their way onto the dash of more popular bloggers, creating clusters.

A quick note about "popularity"

Yes, yes, it's all about "popular." However, it's not just about having a bunch of followers. What's more important is that the "popular" person reblogging your post has followers who are specifically interested in your post.

For instance, if I, @sillylotrpolls, make a poll about LazyTown, it's probably not going to get very many reblogs because my followers aren't here for that. However, if @silly-lazytown-polls reblogs the poll, that reblog might then get quite a lot of reblogs itself. It's not that silly-lazytown-polls has more followers than sillylotrpolls, it's that it has more followers specifically interested in LazyTown content. Make sense?

Back to the Swedish Chef poll

The poll eventually got over 5,000 reblogs. Since you can only add 200 reblogs to the graph at a time, you can roughly see how a post spread over time.

With 600 reblogs loaded, a new cluster bursts onto the scene. This is @bunjywunjy, who reblogged the post from @beecreeper who reblogged it from @soggypotatoes who reblogged the original.

Bunjywunjy didn't add any tags or comments, so I didn't even notice at first because it didn't show in my activity feed. However, I did notice a sudden uptick in notes on the post, which caused me to investigate. It had been five days since I posted the poll, and usually polls that are going to take off do so sooner than that.

By continuing to click the "load more reblogs" button I can see how the post further spread, especially from bunjywunjy's post.

When the post reached @beggars-opera (whose icon I am somewhat proud to announce I identified on sight), they added a screenshot of @stylishanachronism 's tags which said:

# all of these are incorrect it's the 'meat's back on the menu boys!' scene

This would become the dominant version of the post as it further spread. Interestingly, this was the only reblog of stylishanachronism's reblog. Literally thousands of people loved their tags and agreed with them, but they quite plausibly never saw it unless they specifically went looking.

By 3,200 reblogs, you can see even bigger clusters developing. @thebibliosphere shows up 10 reblogs deep, and leads to yet another cluster via @teaboot (12 reblogs deep).

Eventually, with all 5,371 reblogs loaded, the reblog graph looks like this:

Like I said: neat. :D

Cool, but if you've seen one, you've seen them all - right?

So what prompted this (extremely long) post was actually the reblog graph for my poll on inspirational LotR quotes.

Here's the reblog graph with 200 reblogs loaded:

And here's the graph with all 1,890 reblogs loaded:

It's just one big cluster around the root post. I've never seen that before!! Almost everyone reblogging this post saw it either because they follow this blog, saw it in the #lotr tags, or because their non-influencer friend reblogged it. (Or maybe it was in some kind of algorithm/the explore feed, but I have nearly zero experience with those.)

And this wasn't just a small post. This poll got over 15,000 votes and more than 4,000 notes. That puts it in the top 10 polls for this blog.

What does it mean? I have no idea. I would really like to know! But really, I got nothing. If you have a theory for why this particular poll should result in a reblog graph like this, I would very much like to hear it.

Orphan clusters

To round things off, I'd like to show another interesting facet of reblog graphs: orphan clusters.

This blog's current undisputed poll champion is the fmk wheel poll. That's not really a surprise, as it combined sex with a fun game where you just had to tell everyone what you got, which meant either a reply or a reblog. So it spread pretty far.

However, if you look at the graph, there's something odd going on.

This is with just 200 reblogs loaded:

Notice how some of the dots don't connect to the root post? That's because somewhere along the chain, a reblog was deleted.

This cluster in the bottom left got pretty big! This screenshot is at 800 reblogs loaded. The missing link is from a blog called @gendertaliban that doesn't exist anymore, as near as I can tell. That makes it impossible to trace the full path of any of these reblogs.

In conclusion

This concludes today's deep dive into a tumblr feature you probably never paid any attention to. Admittedly, there's not a huge use for it outside of determining which of your mutuals is an "influencer," and they get quite difficult to navigate after loading about 1000 reblogs, but I hope you enjoyed staring at dots and lines with me. :)

[wordstome]

the very first night (ntwdt pt 2)

tell me that you hate it hate that i'm no longer in your reach if i can't hear you say it maybe you can't change it, but if you never if you never put it on the line how am i gonna sign for it?

alpha colonel König x beta ex-lover reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, reader's callsign is Eden, reader speaks French, omegaverse, exes to lovers, fraternization, fantasy version of military protocol, probable incorrect use of "copy"

2.2k words

tw: mentions of dead bodies and vague violence, dirty talk, könig is in rut but no actual sex happens, mention of grinding

Do you guys still even remember this au??? 😅 I'm back to writing this fic with this specific format just like the last time I had bad writer's block. I'm sorry that I basically made you guys take a poll and then immediately disregarded the results :( metalhead König is going to be the next one published, and then kosovo maiden. Anyway, this is less of a foray into the omegaverse as it is into exploring a married couple's dynamic. Forgive me if it's inaccurate, I've never been married. (Several of the people who will probably read this are married so...I might be really embarrassing myself here lol)

“Two on your six, O’Conor.”

König watches as his colleague takes down his pursuants with practiced ease. “Good to have someone watching over me, Eden.” the man roughs into his comms.

“It was my pleasure, Declan.”

“Can you two keep the flirting off the main comms?” Fender huffs. König hears O’Conor snort before the line goes quiet.

“Steady,” Horangi says next to him.

“What?” König says.

“You’re breathing like an angry bull. It’s unnerving.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s obvious you’re mad O’Conor’s flirting with your ex-wife.”

“She’s not—“ König lets out a sigh of defeat and tips his head away from the scope. “She can do whatever she wants. I’m not her keeper.”

“Right, which is why you’re white-knuckling your rifle and giving off the most furious pheromones I've ever felt."

König gives his friend a deadly side eye. “Can I help you?”

“Nah. Just confirming what I already know”, Horangi answers, unbearably smug.

König rolls his eyes and returns to the task at hand.

The two of you avoid each other, mostly.

When you’re forced to interact, it's with stiff professionalism. Cold and distant. The way it was when it was really, really bad.

You spend your time becoming closer to the other operators. O'Conor, for one, is someone you find yourself growing close to. In your line of work, it's usually not a good idea to get too attached to someone who may not see the next day, but it's part of your job to know these people now.

They're so competent that you can ignore the obvious, anyway.

König's always been competent, but watching him work nowadays is strange, like watching a remake of a nostalgic childhood film.

His movements are the same. He flicks his wrist the same way, with a heartbeat's worth of pause before the movement. Him taking cover, leaning with that awful posture you always got on his case about.

But everything about him is more ruthless, more efficient. The unrefined brutality of his youth is replaced with a honed precision that is foreign to you.

It stings, though you know the feeling has no right to exist.

You can't keep yourself from reminiscing about the past, when everything about him was familiar. When you knew him so well, it was enough to save both your lives.

"We've lost comms with König."

Your heart drops into your throat. You've been on several ops with him at this point, but this has never happened before.

"What do you mean you've lost comms?"

"He's not responding."

"What?" Fear grips your heart at everything that implies.

"He's in your building, Eden. Find him and extract. Copy."

You move slowly, like ice is flowing through your veins. "Copy."

You will yourself to calm down. Lost communications doesn't mean anything but lost communications. Panicking that you're going to encounter his body will only ensure you end up as a corpse as well. Besides, who could ever take down a man like that, tall like a giant and quick like a viper as he is?

If you had lost comms, what would you do? Re-establish them, of course. Pick your way out of the building and do everything in your power to reconnect with your team. From where König entered, he'd be exiting the building on the east side. You turn to head that way, then hesitate.

König's not you, though. He's not like any other member of the team. Proud, arrogant, vicious König, far more so than other alphas. You used to be afraid of him while he was at work, but eventually you came to realize that was simply how he was in his element—a different persona he wore to battle. As much as you wished he would be sensible and take the safe route, König would never take the safe route. He'd be carrying on the mission on his own, moving towards the target at the center of the building.

But he's a professional. No matter how good he is at what he does, he's not a one-man army, and he knows the right thing to do would be to extract. It's a gamble. If you head towards the east exit and he's not there, you could be losing precious time to find him. But if you head towards the center, you could be walking right into a fight you can't win and become overwhelmed.

You let out a shaky breath and attempt to calm your mind. What would he do? What is he thinking? If you make the wrong call, if you don't know your lover as well as you think you do, one of you won't be walking out of here. You close your eyes and think.

You open them with newfound determination and turn towards the center of the building.

You'd been right, of course, judging by the fallen enemies you find as you move through the hallways. But you don't allow yourself to feel sure until the moment you lay eyes on him, securing the target—a hard drive containing sensitive information.

"König!" you hiss, just as he whips towards you, gun drawn. He relaxes when he sees it's only you. Despite the fraught situation you're in, you can't help yourself from dashing towards him and burying your face into his chest in a hug.

"Eden," he says, his relief evident.

"You stupid motherfucker," you hiss. "You should have extracted the moment your comms cut out."

His eyes crinkle up behind his mask the way they always do when he smiles. "You knew I wouldn't."

"Yes, because I am burdened with being one of the few people on this earth who knows you like the back of my hand. Atlas holding up the sky," you grumble.

"I know you're relieved to see me," he responds, joy evident in his tone.

You let out a sigh. "Can we just get out of here?"

"Aye-aye, captain."

You could do without those memories, you think whenever the two of you trade clipped exchanges during ops now.

König still has traces of the arrogance of his youth, but it shows through less now. He's wiser, more patient and far less reckless.

You catch yourself admiring how good of a leader he's become. His connection with his teammates is like muscles flexing a hand.

You're no longer a part of that nervous system.

In fact, he's always catching you off guard now.

The energy in the common area is weird today.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. It’s like everyone’s walking on eggshells, but at the same time, nobody’s mood seems to be that affected. It’s like you’re all mice living in someone’s walls: going about business as usual, but with some looming threat casting a pall over everything.

“Is it just me or does the energy on base feel off today?” you ask Calisto.

“Oh. Yeah, that. Don’t worry about it,” she says. She swings open the refrigerator and pulls out coffee creamer. “No need for concern. König’s in rut.”

You do a double take. “He is?”

“Yeah.” She’s casual about it as she dumps cream and sugar into her coffee. “Usually he has a pretty light rut—he just gets testy and irritated. But for some reason this time is bad.” She offers you the cream, but you shake your head. “Don’t know what’s up with him, but he had to barricade himself in his room. His scent is driving people up the wall.”

You stare at the table in front of you. It can’t be a coincidence that König’s rut gets worse as soon as you’re near him again, can it?

When you look up, Horangi is staring at you from across the room. Slowly, he raises his mug to his lips, never once taking his eyes off of you.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

Calisto was right. The scent is overwhelming, but it's also familiar. You can't blame the others for avoiding the area. If you'd never dealt with him in this state before, you'd be hightailing it out of there too. Which is why you're doing this despite...everything.

You hover outside his door, trying to gather yourself, or work up the nerve to knock, or anything. It doesn’t matter in the end, though.

“I can smell you, liebling,” comes his voice, deep and growling and verging on feral. A shiver runs up your spine. You haven’t been called that in a long, long time.

“I only came here to bring you things. Water and…snacks.” you stammer, instantly hating yourself for how weak you sound.

“All these years later…and you still smell the same.” He blows right past your feeble little excuse, not even dignifying it with a response.

“I’m just here to check on you,” you murmur.

“Is that so.” You gasp as you hear a loud thud against the door from the other side. Oh God, it’s him, his body heat almost burning through the wood, pressed so close that you can hear his heaving breaths. “How kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do, considering…”

“Considering it’s your fault I’m like this in the first place?”

Your legs feel weak. “Yes.”

His voice is silky, dangerous despite the barely restrained lust behind it. “Good girl.”

“That’s not fair,” you whisper.

“That’s a shame. You used to like it when I called you that. Still do, according to my nose.”

You wish he wasn’t right, but he is. You’re so slick that you’re soaking your underwear.

“Do you want the water or not?”

“Are you going to come with it?”

“I—”

“Because I promise you, if you’re still standing there when I open this door, you will get fucked against it.” He sounds like a savage animal snapping his jaws in hunger, and fuck, your body feels hot and weak in response. Every cell in your body is screaming out for you to throw open that door and let him fuck you limp. If you told him to break down the door, you’re sure that he would.

“You can’t say that anymore,” you whisper, hating the words as they leave you.

That seems to bring König back to rationality. You can picture him now on the other side of the door, shoulders slumping as he withdraws back into himself. "I...I'm sorry."

You slide down to sit on the ground with your back to the door, gripping a water bottle in a clenched fist. "It's like no time has passed at all, huh?"

You hear him let out a shaky breath, clearly trying to collect himself and bite back words he can't say. "Yeah."

That's the thing, isn't it? Your biology and his got the two of you into this situation in the first place. Very little of that has changed. Even though you've grown distanced in your minds, your bodies haven't forgotten the connection.

You're still struggling with how to feel about that. So much of your life has been dictated by what your body needs and wants. You've spent just as much time bucking against those needs and wants, so much that it feels like second nature.

"All of this...it takes me back. Do you remember the first night I spent with you during a rut?" you say. For a while you don't think he's heard you, but then he responds.

"How could I forget? It's my most embarrassing memory."

"Still?"

"I swore I would never let something like that happen again."

You giggle a little. "It was cute, for what it's worth." That first time, you'd come prepared with water and food, just like you had tonight, prepared for a long night full of...strenuous exercise. Instead, König had gotten so overwhelmed at his first rut with a partner that he came by just grinding on your leg and immediately fell into a 12-hour sleep.

"Yeah, you've said that. Doesn't make me cringe any less."

"And I'll say it again, it wasn't as bad as you think it is." You idly trace the cap of the water bottle with a fingertip. "There's no shame between us."

Another long pause before he responds. "Was."

A dull, throbbing pain nestles itself below your sternum.

"It...doesn't have to be past tense," you put forth tentatively.

"Doesn't it? We've gone right back to being strangers. You're still on the other side of the door."

You bite your lip. You can't deny that, nor the distance that's grown between the two of you.

This is all happening too fast. You don't know if you want to close the gap. You don't know if you're ready to make amends, after what happened.

"You're in no condition to have this conversation," you say, to distract both him and yourself.

"Conversation with you is hard to come by nowadays."

"Well...let's change that. Starting when your rut's over. Let's try talking like normal people again." This time, you don't know if you can blame your stupid biology for the relief you feel saying that. Maybe this time it's nothing but you and your treacherous heart.

You hear a thump against the door, but not an aggressive one. More like he's leaned his head against it. "I guess we have to start somewhere."

More silence. Then he speaks again, his voice tremulous.

"Can you stay? It's easier when you're here."

You swallow, your mouth gone dry like a desert. You can barely manage your next two words. "Of course."

The rest of the night is quiet, but you know he's there. At one point, you can even hear his steady, even breathing. Somewhere along the way, you notice that your breathing has synced with his.

The two of you fall asleep like that, propped up next to each other with a single layer of wood between you.

I miss you like it was the very first night...

I only revised this once while exhausted out of my fucking mind at 3am, so forgive me if anything's awkward or clunky. I'll probably go through it again in the morning (and die of cringe). But there we go! I hope you guys enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts and comments <3

Regarding my tag lists: I've had to leave out a few people, so if you see your url missing from this, please let me know and I'll add you back. Also, apologies if you're here despite not asking to be tagged for this particular story. I haven't gotten around to sorting out fic-specific taglists yet 🥲

@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @cookiepie111 @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @hexqueensupreme @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @deaddainish @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely @black-moon-bunny @kit-williams @shebibtedmypepnis @mafer383

[smallishzine]

very important official zine stuff for real this time guys please spread this around

we realized we haven’t asked you what you want this zine to be, so here is poll with some different options for things we could do, but this still won’t set things in stone cause we’re aware that we’re working with a relatively small albeit amazing awesome and extremely appreciated audience, but it’ll give us a good idea for what direction you want the zine to go in.

some examples of what we mean for added coherence, please read before voting unless you wanna be like that guy in the Simpsons movie:

an eras tour zine (yes this is a Taylor swift joke shut up if you’re judging us you’re wrong) would be like different pieces dedicated to each, for lack of a better word, “thing” that Joel has done. @/inthelittlezine is a great example of this concept, except the mod has far better organizational skills than we ever could hope to

tourism brochure would be like we pick a specific thing Joel, such as esmp 1 or 2, or x life, or one of his hardcore/survival worlds (I haven’t listed Hermitcraft season 10 cause that’s still in progress but if you guys really really wanna, that too), and make an in universe guide to it expanding upon the lore and characters and builds and stuff. @/scarland-artbook is an amazing example of this, though of course we would be a much smaller scale of a project.

do you wanna tell a story? Or ride our bikes around the halls? We can’t help with the second one, we’re not very sporty people, but this option is both the most difficult and dangerous to the success of the zine, and the one that intrigues me specifically the most. Like, guys, I know I’m polling this, but I’m secretly hoping that this one wins. Like all the hoping. Ever. But I’m not gonna just say yeah let’s do this because if like only three people also wanna this zine will never get made and I will be really, really sad. This option is basically do we wanna take something Joel has done and work together to create an original universe/story based off of it, each contributing a small part of the story in comic or writing form. Unless you’ve been living under a rock and/or this post broke containment sorry if it did I assure I’m usually mostly sane, you probably know where I’m shamelessly stealing taking inspiration from. We heart you @/hotguycomiczine. If we went with this we would obviously create our own universe and storyline, and we’d try to base it off of one of Joel’s characters if possible. Also, if we went with this, we’d start the mod and application process and stuff and once we knew everyone who was going to be in the zine then we’d all get together and start working on the story, and this is the part I’m worried about because if we’re all stumped then I guess the zine is out of luck and I’d be sad. Also even if we did do this, like preemptively temper your expectations I am no where near as good as the legends at hotguycomiczine at organization and promotion and story writing and all that good stuff. However, if you have an idea for a story and want to share, send us an ask cause we might just end up using it.

I think the last two are mostly self explanatory.

please reblog for reach.

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni FINALE: brothers / paws n claws

ao3 link

note: based loosely on the pop quiz of the same name, though with the requested change of levi being a snake rather than a giraffe - and since that was different, i decided to do something new with ik as well (this is what that random animal poll was for). this one's a proper long one, so i'm deeply sorry if the keep reading bar ever breaks

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

You'd normally think that an event that makes Luke flee the House of Lamentation, tearfully shouting, “I’ll go get help!” must be some kind of catastrophe. Well, it still might shape up to be - but I'm hopeful that it won't. Right now, it's a situation at most.

Said situation can be summarised with one sentence: there was something wrong with the cake. This is vague enough to be misleading, though, so I’ll elaborate: there was a potion in the cake, and it made Beel grow fluffy ears and a tail, then shortly thereafter started doing the same thing to everyone else.

‘Fluffy ears and a tail’ might not sound too bad, but Luke wouldn’t have run like that if that was all. Beel has rapidly developed a mouthful of sharp teeth, a bone-shakingly powerful roar, and a sudden, even more pronounced taste for meat. Raw meat, specifically, because that is what lions eat. It'd be cool if it wasn’t for the fact that we had been the nearest sources of raw meat when the hunger first hit.

The only thing to do, really, was run and hide. And that probably wouldn’t even have worked (Beel is also now even faster and stronger than usual) if Mammon hadn’t suddenly sprouted new striped features of his own and pounced on him in return. Things just sort of went crazy after that.

I haven’t been able to keep track of them all, but knowing their track record, everyone else has probably been hit with the curse, too. Asmo definitely has, at least - I know that because it happened while he was rushing me to the safety of his room's two locks.

“It’s weird that the potion changed your clothes as well,” I say, trying to figure out whether that’s a dress or a really long blouse as he pushes me in. “Isn’t it?”

Asmo doesn’t answer for a moment - he turns the key, then peers fretfully through the peephole. After a moment, he hisses, “That doesn’t matter, does it? You know Mammon’s a tiger? There—”

There’s a knock on the door, and Asmo skitters backwards. After a moment, there’s another, mellower knock, then a plaintive, “Hello?”

Though it sounds closer to a ‘he-wo?’. Asmo frowns. “Levi? Why do you sound like that?”

There’s a shuffle. “I goh— got fangth. It’th… wha’ever, can I come in?”

Asmo doesn’t move for a moment, but relents quickly. Levi sidles in, head turning from side to side, tail dragging in behind him. It’s longer and thinner than in demon form, and iridescent green instead of deep grey - his pupils look narrower, too, and there are dark markings along his cheeks.

“Whoa!” I hadn’t gotten a good look at him when he first started transforming. “You’re a snake!”

“I notithed,” He says unhappily. He has fangs now - long, curved ones that keep catching on his bottom lip. “It’th a nigh’mare. Theeth teeth…”

“Are they retractable?”

“I’unno…” He scrunches his face in concentration. The fangs suddenly swing up into the back of his mouth. “...oh! Yes! Finally!”

“When did you switch?” I ask as he opens and closes his mouth several times with relish. “Asmo went a few minutes ago, I think he’s a panda… it looked like it hurt.”

He makes a popping sound, then releases a long sigh. “Eh - not really? It’s more like everything gets really hot and itchy for a bit. Isn’t anything happening to you?”

I look down at myself. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Guess the potion only works on demons. Lucky…” Levi rubs his arms, then abruptly dives into Asmo’s bed. “Brr! Why’s it so cold in here?”

“Snakes are cold-blooded, right? So you need to get heat from somewhere else.” I lean over and plant my hands on his cheeks. “Is that nice?”

“Ooh… yeah…” He blinks at me. “Hrm. Everything looks so weird. It’s, like… fuzzy.”

I squint at his face. Wait - those aren’t markings after all. “Oh! You’ve got heat pits! You’re, like, seeing temperature. That’s so cool.”

Asmo looks as well, then recoils, hands flying to his mouth. “Eww! There’s holes in your face!”

“As if you don’t have a nose,” Levi snaps, but reaches self-consciously to cover his cheeks anyway. “...ugh. I’m still cold.”

I’m not large enough to be an effective heater - what we really need is either a heat lamp, or the sun, neither of which Asmo has in his room. He resorts to dragging Levi to his bathtub instead, and lighting candles in a circle around him. It looks like we’re using him for a nefarious ritual, but it seems to provide Levi with a little relief.

“It’s like I can see them way clearer than everything else,” Levi says, squinting, then covers his nose. “And they smell super strong. You know I’ve got venom now, too? I got some on the carpet and it started, like, dissolving.”

So the potion definitely isn’t just a cosmetic thing. I glance at Asmo. “Do you feel any different?”

“Hmm. Maybe?” He stretches, and for the first time his sleeves fall down enough for me to see his hands. The pads of his fingers look thicker, and his nails look more like claws. “Like, I kinda wanna go to sleep, I guess.”

He leans forward on the edge of the bathtub, then fumbles and slips down into a heap. “Ooh. Gosh, this whole thing is weird. How do you think everyone’s doing?”

“It might not have even worked on Lucifer.” Those candles really do smell strong. It’s making my nose tickle. “What animal do you th— achoo!”

I can tell something’s changed as soon as I open my eyes again, but Levi’s yelp and jerk backwards (dangerously close to the candles) confirms it. I look down. Those definitely aren’t the clothes I was wearing a minute ago.

“Oh,” I say, defeated. “So the potion did work on me.”

“You’ve got a tail!” Asmo squeals, trying several times to scramble to his feet before succeeding, and immediately reaching for me. “And your ears!”

“Whoa whoa whoa—” I think I can empathise with Hyde when Aunt Lisa rushes him now. “Wait, wait, wait— put me down for a sec—”

Asmo (somewhat unwillingly) releases me, and I hurry to the mirror. White ears, a bushy red tail, distinct markings across my cheeks… am I wearing gloves? No - that’s straight-up a paw. It’s alien trying to move my fingers and watching the claws flex instead.

…my right hand is still normal, though. That one is just wearing a sort of glove. It’s like the potion got mad about not being able to do anything to the prosthetic and doubled its effects on the intact one.

I lift my paw as if to swipe at the mirror, then bare my teeth at it. “Rarrgh!”

Behind me, Levi’s reflection soundlessly pretends to get shot in the heart and collapses backwards into the tub. Asmo isn’t nearly so quiet - he squeals again, twice as loud this time.

I give him a moment to compose himself, then turn and announce, “I think I’m a red panda.”

“Ooh! So we’re matching?!” He slides over and sets his head on the crown of my head, then brandishes his own claws at the mirror as well. “Oh, we need to get pictures. Or film some videos! We can’t let this go to waste!”

“Hey, hey, slow down.” Levi emerges from the tub again. “What about everyone else? If the potion even works on humans, then Lucifer’s probably…”

“Oh, yeah! We totally need pictures of him, too.”

“That’s not the point—”

Levi pauses to yawn, but it’s nothing like anything I’ve ever seen before. He just keeps going, wider than should really be possible. His fangs click out, and the entire roof of his mouth seems to turn inside out for a moment - then everything realigns, and his jaw swings shut again.

“What?” He asks after a moment. Asmo is staring at him in horror - and I with fascination.

“What happened to your bones?” Asmo asks in a hush.

“That was so cool,” I say with the same intonation. “And gross.”

“...you don’t sound like that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not.”

“That potion really is crazy,” Asmo whispers. He looks haunted. “Should that stuff really be allowed? What’s Solomon doing in that lab? Am I gonna start doing that?”

“You’re fine, Asmo,” I reassure, patting him on the arm - he latches onto me like a stress blanket. “Pandas don’t do that.”

“You promise?” He asks tearfully.

“Promise.” I think of all the videos I’ve seen over the years. “And everyone loves pandas, anyway. They’re super cute.”

Levi crosses his arms over the edge of the bathtub and rests his chin atop them, then heaves a melancholic sigh. “And everyone’s scared of snakes ‘cause they think they’re gross.”

“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport,” Asmo scolds - though, to be fair, that’s easy for him to say. “We don’t think snakes are gross.”

“Uh, yes you do. You went ew about my heat pits.”

“That’s not the same thing!”

“I love snakes,” I declare. “Anyway, every animal’s kind of gross sometimes. You should watch Planet Earth.”

All while we’re saying this, I’m beginning to worry a little about the others. Levi’s the only reptile so far - if we’re lucky, that’s the furthest up the evolutionary tree anyone else has gone, but if we’re unlucky, one of them could be a fish. If the potion’s capable of giving Levi heat pits and the bone structure to actually unhinge his jaw, there’s no reason it couldn’t give someone gills.

I wonder how the potion decides what it’s going to turn us into. Levi being a snake makes sense… but Beel being a lion and Asmo a giant panda feel more arbitrary. (Though I couldn’t imagine what it’d look like if they turned into a fly and a scorpion.) And I don’t know why I’m a red panda, either.

“I think I’m gonna go look for Beel,” I decide after a while. He’s probably sated himself at least a little by now - he knows where the fridge is. “You guys stay here.”

“You think we’re gonna send you to the lions?” Levi asks in disbelief, and starts attempting to get out of the tub. “No dice! You’re staying here, where it’s safe. I’ll go check on Beel.”

“You have to stay here, though - you’re cold-blooded now, remember?” I push him back down, which takes surprisingly little effort. “So you have to keep warm.”

“Come on, d’you really think these candles are doing anything for me? They’re tiny.”

Now that he mentions it… “Hmm. Maybe we should run you a hot bath.”

“You want me to take a bath while you go talk to a lion?”

“He’s right, hon.” Asmo interjects. “We’re not the ones who need protecting.”

“Come on, we do this every time something—” I sigh loudly and try to compose myself. “—okay, look, you know you never win this fight. Nothing’s happened to me before. And it's just Beel, anyway.”

They exchange a look. After a moment, Levi huffs. “Fine - but you’d better not do anything stupid, alright?! I’ve seen this go wrong in way too many shows!”

“And if it looks like trouble, you’re coming straight back here,” Asmo adds. “Or I’ll cry. I mean it.”

I sigh, but smile at him anyway. “Sure, Asmo. Take a nap or something.”

It’s finally business as usual. We have an impromptu team handshake - which is nice, that’s never happened before - and then I let myself out into the hall, and into the figurative jungle.

It’s eerily quiet out here. Or it is for a moment, at least, because then something crashes in the kitchen.

I can take a guess at who it is. I hurry downstairs - I feel more agile, somehow. I don’t think my feet are paws as well, but these boots definitely look like them. I’d thought having a tail would feel stranger, but the sensation seems to have settled in seamlessly. It feels as if it’s been there the whole time.

Beel, just as I’d thought, has his head in the fridge when I get there. I can hear glass clinking and plastic crinkling. Several containers are already lying empty on the table. The only real difference between this and his usual fridge raids is that he’s gone exclusively for the raw meat.

I’ve never seen him get food poisoning, but that doesn’t mean he can’t. Well, maybe the potion gave him a lion’s stomach too... “Uh - Beel?”

He makes a sound of surprise that isn’t that different from a cat’s ‘mrrp’ - just a lot deeper - and pulls back from the fridge with startling swiftness. There’s a scrap of something pink hanging out of his mouth.

“...are you having fun?” I ask after a moment. Ignoring all new features, his demeanour looks about the same. Maybe his eyes are more dilated than usual.

He makes a rumbling sound at the base of his throat and swallows the rest of the scrap in his mouth, slamming the fridge shut with his elbow and moving to the sink. He cups his hands under the faucet and drinks deeply - every move is poised and purposeful. Then he closes his eyes and shakes himself all over, like a wet dog.

When he opens his eyes, they look normal again. I can’t say the same for the rest of him - his hair is longer and poofier, as if in imitation of a mane, and there’s fur around his neck that makes him look almost twice as large as usual.

“You switched, too?” He asks after a moment. I catch a glimpse of sharp, bloodstained canines, and recoil before I can stop myself. “...hm? Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, peachy.” Do red pandas’ tails fall between their legs when they’re nervous, too? I feel like mine’s trying to do that. “What about you? Do you like being a lion?”

“I don’t like… liking all this,” He says after a moment, gesturing at all the empty boxes. I try not to think too hard about the image they conjure. “I mean, it’s way better when it’s cooked. You can put all sorts of different stuff on it to make it tasty. But it’s the only thing I feel like eating right now.”

“Well, that’s how a lion eats.”

Beel looks at me for a moment. Then, unprompted, he reaches up and scratches my fluffy new ears. I feel my shoulders fall. “Hey. It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I hadn’t even noticed myself tensing up. It’s not like I thought he ever would, but… actually, I can’t tell if those were the red panda’s survival instincts, or my own. I’m fairly sure the latter hasn’t been working for a while.

“Yeah, I know,” I sigh after a moment, sitting down with him. Using my tail as a cushion, I can’t feel the chill of the kitchen tiles at all. “I just… I dunno. Do you know what happened to everyone else?

He thinks for a moment, then looks a little alarmed. “Uh— I think I was chasing Satan for a while. He was moving all fast and funny, and I just— I don’t know. It felt like I had to grab him. I don’t think I caught him, but…”

“We’d better see, just in case,” I conclude, getting up. “I need to check on everyone, anyway. Asmo’s with Levi already…”

“Belphie went to the observatory,” Beel says thoughtfully, following me out of the kitchen. “And I haven’t seen Lucifer since we split up. He looked like he was gonna follow you and Asmo, but then…”

“Did it look like he transformed?”

“Uhh…” He looks mildly guilty. “I don’t know. I stopped thinking straight. Mammon bit me, and then I was chasing him instead…”

“He bit you?” I saw Mammon jumping at him, but I didn’t think he’d gone that far.

“Yeah. Pretty hard, actually. It only hurt for a bit, though.” Beel points to his shoulder. “I think he thought I’d go after you first, so he was trying to chase me off. I don’t know where he went after that…”

I sigh. “Well, he’s got to be somewhere in the house. Let’s go find Belphie first.”

“Mmm? Sure.” He pauses to yawn. It isn’t quite as spectacular as Levi’s, but it’s impressive all the same. The teeth are still a little unsettling. “Be careful. I don’t know what he turned into.”

He rubs my ears again, then moves away with long, languid steps, tail trailing lazily behind him. My own tail swishes anxiously for a moment before I steel myself and follow him.

It turns out Belphie didn’t even make it into the observatory - he got into the music room, then apparently couldn’t be bothered to walk any further past the divider and just curled up under the piano. Beel very nearly stands on an extended arm before he seems to smell his presence.

“Belphie?” He crouches down and reaches for the thick brown tail he’s using as a blanket. “Wake u—”

As soon as his hand closes around the fur, Belphie’s entire body goes rigid - the underside of the piano presses his ears flat against his head as he rolls out from under it and flips upright in an instant, poised as if to pounce. It’s all so quick, all so alarmingly sudden, that my entire body tenses, jerks backwards, and I find myself with both hands raised high in the air.

I don’t know what I expected to do, only that I had to make myself look as large as possible. Belphie - eyes wide open in a way that they almost never are immediately after waking - looks at me for a moment, then laughs so loudly that Beel jumps back this time.

“Where’ve you been?” He asks, grinning. His teeth aren’t nearly as pointy as Beel’s, but his smile is a lot more devious. “Hey, I’m just messing with you.”

“Uh huh,” I say, trying not to look too scared. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to bring my hands down. I just look like I’ve long since surrendered. “I knew that.”

Belphie snickers. His tail curves up behind him, ears swivelling to the side of his head. “C’mon, relax. Let’s play a game.”

On the last word, he hops just a bit forward, and I take a great big step back. Beel glances between us, then commands, looking mildly concerned, “Be nice, Belphie.”

“I am being nice,” Belphie says with a sniff, baring his teeth at me again. The longer I look at his grin, though, the more it begins to look playful. “Hey. Hey!”

He darts forward again, but this time I’m ready for him - I pounce straight at his chest, knocking him within an inch of smacking his head on the piano, then quickly get up and scurry to the other side of the room. Belphie springs straight back to his feet and rushes so swiftly at me that there’s little I can do before he scoops me up with deceivingly gentle hands and tosses me a fair distance across the room.

A ‘fair distance’, however, is not long enough to prevent me from running straight back at him (for some reason, my hands end up in the air again) and bowling into his knees to knock him over. He lets out a sound between a yelp, a yip and a laugh, tumbling back onto his stomach and forgoing even getting back to his feet before he charges again.

“Wait—” Beel’s head swings back and forth until he’s blinking from the whiplash. “You two, come on—”

Belphie swipes at my feet at the same time that I seize his hood, sending us both back to the ground in a tangled heap. I recover first and unpin myself from beneath his unexpectedly heavy limbs, and register Beel standing over us - without stopping to wonder if it’s a good idea, I reach up, hook my claws into the fur around his shoulders, and scramble up him like a tree.

He only wobbles for a moment before balancing himself again. I adjust myself onto his back, then peer triumphantly down at Belphie through his mane.

“That’s cheating,” He complains, sitting up. “C’mon, are you really doing this?”

“You started it.” I muffle through Beel’s mane.

“What? You literally jumped at me first.”

“You’re bigger than me, so it doesn’t count.”

Beel makes a deep, rumbling sound that I’ll take as one of amusement. Hmm. I’m a lot closer to his ears from here.

Belphie yawns and flicks his tail about, then wraps his arms around it like it’s a toy. “Whatever. Bet you’re only getting away with it ‘cause you’re cute. Right, Beel?”

Beel lifts his hands innocently. Meanwhile, keeping my right hand latched to his mane, I reach up with my left to touch his ears. “I’m just standing. I can’t control what IK does.”

“Uh, yes you can. You can literally just pick her up. Any time.”

Beel’s fur is softer than I was expecting, but still coarser than any dog I’ve ever pet. I turn around to look at his tail. It’s sort of similar to Belphie’s usual demon tail - sleek along most of its length, but with a big fluffy bit at the end. He’s holding it too far down for me to reach from here, but if I twist a little more…

“Whoops—” Turns out I twisted too far. My claws detach, and I rapidly start slipping down his back.

Belphie’s eyes flash up. As smoothly as if he’d anticipated it, he ducks forward and cushions the landing with his tail - then draws in a breath through his teeth and scrunches his face up. “Oww. That hurt.”

“No one told you to do that,” I counter, but hurriedly shuffle off anyway.

“And let you break your tail? I don’t think so.” He reaches over before I can get far enough away and squishes my cheeks inward, then puts on a voice that he reserves for his most infuriating bits. “You gotta be careful, you’re just a little baby. Look at your cute little ears. What are you meant to be?”

“Not telling you!” I try to wrestle my face out of his hands, but he’s a lot better at this game than either Beel or I am. “Hey! I’m gonna bite you if you don’t stop!”

“Fine,” He sighs with unnecessarily gloom, and acquiesces. “You’re so mean to me. Well, do you know what I’m meant to be?”

I fold my arms and regard him for a moment. It’s not as obvious as the others have been so far. “I dunno. A weasel?”

He gives me a look. “Be nice.”

“I am being nice. What’s your problem with weasels?” I lean forward and pick up his tail at the tip. It’s heavier than it looks. “...well, your ears are the wrong shape, anyway. Um… you could be a hyena. Do a laugh?”

“Ha ha ha.”

“A proper one.”

“That is my proper one.”

“What do you think, Beel?”

He starts. He doesn't seem to have been paying attention - just watching us with a warm look on his face. “Uh— a cow?”

“A cow?” Belphie repeats incredulously. “Have you ever seen a cow? You just want steak, don’t you?”

Beel’s face says ‘guilty as charged’. I prop myself up on my knees and start ruffling Belphie’s ears without permission. They feel like they could be extra-big cat ears.

“I think you’re some kind of desert fox,” I announce. “Try barking.”

He looks offended. “No way.”

“I command you to—”

“I think it’s time for Beel to have a snack,” He says loudly, and gets to his feet. “We’re going now.”

“It’d be easier if you just do it on your own,” I say persuasively, following behind as Beel gets unceremoniously pushed out of the room. “It’s less embarrassing. It’s on your terms.”

“I’m not barking!” He insists, moving a little faster, as if that will stop me from speaking. “Make Lucifer do it. Wolves are way closer to dogs.”

“I d— oh, so the potion did work on him?” My attention is successfully shifted. “Where did he go?”

“I dunno, I wasn’t looking— where are you going?”

I’m already in the other room when I realise I was meant to answer that question, but it doesn’t matter that much. There are only so many places to be in the House of Lamentation, and Lucifer’s pretty predictable. He might well have gone back to his office to do his work for the day.

I look into the common room just in case, which is empty - but, rather suspiciously, there’s a lot of grey fur stuck to the cushions in Lucifer’s usual spot. The common room has a pretty distinct mix of scents to it, and Lucifer’s is strong enough that he can’t have left too long ago.

I’m not sure I enjoy having such strong senses. It’s easier not to pay attention to it all when I’m in the middle of something else, but it’s overwhelming as soon as I stop and try to dissect everything.

I sit down for a moment, close my eyes, and listen carefully to the silence. There’s some distant clanking and conversation from the kitchen, but other than that it’s just quiet…

…the weird thing is that we all still have our normal ears, on top of the new animal ones. I can’t tell which ones are doing the work.

Garden, a voice in the back of my head suddenly supplies, and I open my eyes again. I don’t think I even heard anything - not consciously, anyway - but it feels like the right thing to do.

And apparently it is. Lucifer is sitting out on the grass and doing absolutely nothing.

Which is quite suspicious, really. But all I can think about is how he doesn’t seem to have heard the door open, and that it would be really funny if I snuck up on him.

I take a slow, careful step onto the lawn. He doesn’t give any indication that he’s noticed anything. Maybe he can’t hear me over the rustling of his own tail swiping idly through the grass. I think this is about as close as I can get away with. Can I jump that far? Only one way to find out.

I crouch back and adjust myself. Then, using the soft grass as a springboard, I launch myself ever-so-gently at his shoulders and grab him by the head.

Lucifer doesn’t scream - I wouldn’t have expected him to, and if he had, I’d have been very alarmed. But he does let out a loud, gruff ‘heurgh!’ and nearly topple straight over, which is about as good as you get with him.

“Hey,” I announce, into his regular ear, then lean up and do the same into the wolf ones, just in case. “Hey!”

“Yes, I can hear you,” He sighs, catching himself on a hand and trying to act stern. (His tail is wagging.) “And what do you think you’re doing?”

“Dunno.” I lean forward until I’m just about hanging over his shoulder. Lucifer has to switch from hunching forward to tilting back to keep balance. “What’re you doing?”

He’s quiet for a moment. I get the feeling that he doesn’t know, either. “Keeping watch.”

“Watch on what?” The only thing in front of us is a big hedge and some flowers. “There’s nothing here.”

“Hmm,” He says, which isn’t an answer. “Shouldn’t you be inside?”

“Well, I was looking for you—” I tip further forward still, and at this point Lucifer seems to decide that it’d be more prudent to just lie back, so that I’m lying on my front instead of attempting to fall head-first into the grass. “—oof— ‘cause I didn’t think the potion would work on you. And I wanted to see what you were like.”

“You wanted to see me do something embarrassing,” He concludes, and waves off my defensive ‘nooo’. “I didn’t think it would work on you, either. What are you, exactly?”

“Red panda.” I reach across his chest and poke at one of the straps running down his shirt. “Wow. Your suspenders are kind of ugly.”

There’s a short, sharp exhale, and then he remembers to be offended. “I didn’t choose them.”

“Well, I was saying - it’s weird that the potion knows how to make clothes, isn’t it? I mean, it’s adding bones and everything…”

“Which is exactly why I’d like to question Solomon about what he put in it,” He says, and now he does sound genuinely severe. “He’s lucky it hasn’t done any damage. I don’t know how Luke managed to bake it into a cake.”

The tip of his tail - the rest of it is trapped under his back - has started lashing angrily at the grass. I wonder if scratching his ears would help calm him down, or just make him madder.

“It’s not his fault,” I say in what I hope is a persuasive voice. Maybe it’d help if I sounded more pitiful. “And I helped him bake it, too.”

He gives me a look. “You’re the one I’m most worried about. A human body shouldn’t be able to handle the same kind of magical stress as a demon, and it wasn’t exactly comfortable when I transformed. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“Funny story, actually. I just sneezed and then it happened.”

“You just sneezed,” He repeats.

“Didn’t feel a thing,” I confirm. “Anyway, it’s cool, isn’t it? Like - Levi has heat pits now.”

“We still don’t know how long this is going to last,” He says, but he does look less tense. “...well, you might as well have fun with it.”

“Do you feel like howling at all?” I ask, looking up at the moon. I mean, I know it’s not actually a thing, but even so… “Actually, do you feel any different? Like… is the wolf within talking?”

“You make it sound more dramatic than it is,” Lucifer says with another little exhale. “But yes.”

“What’s it saying?”

“To hunt, mostly. Feed the family, or something along those lines. But we’ve been grocery-shopping this week already - and I’m not sure what I’d hunt even if I listened. What about your… ‘panda within’, then?”

It’s nice that he’s playing along. “Mmm… I think I really wanna climb up something.”

“Something up high?” He gently pushes my head off his shoulder and gestures to the end of the garden. “Will that do?”

It’s not the tallest tree in the Devildom, but to someone of my stature it’s an intimidating enough height that I’d probably feel a little dizzy at the top - which is perfect. I hadn’t realised how much I wanted to do this until Lucifer pointed it out, but I’m moving before I can even stop to think about it.

There’s something liberating about this new agility. Scaling the trunk comes about as second nature as taking stairs - so smoothly that it feels like the air is parting around rather than rushing against me. It’s only once I’m crouched contentedly on the highest sturdy branch I can find that I notice Lucifer standing at the base of the tree, ears pricked and eagle-eyed in apparent trepidation.

The bark is rough, but for some reason it doesn’t bother me at all. I lie forward with a leisurely sweep of my tail and give him a winning smile.

He huffs. “Proud of yourself, are you?”

“Yup.” It’d be better if this was an apple tree - then I could pick one and toss it down to him, and it’d be extra cool.

Alas, the tree just has regular leaves. Which… look kind of tasty, actually. It’s not like I have access to bamboo down here, so this might be the next best thing.

“Don’t,” Lucifer warns. I can only assume that I was wearing a Beel expression. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“I’m not doing anything,” I insist, then pause. Something’s just sped past one of the windows upstairs. “...huh? Was that Mammon?”

I can hear Lucifer’s tail swishing agitatedly as I edge closer to the end of the branch to get a closer look. A moment later, another blur goes by.

“He’s just running. Okay—” I quickly unlatch from the branch and drop down, landing neatly in Lucifer’s arms. “—I’m gonna go check on him.”

“Was a warning too much to ask for?” He asks, as if he hadn’t reached up as soon as I let go. “Alright, but be careful. He’s… energetic.”

“You aren’t coming?”

“In a moment,” He says, and an odd look comes over his face. “I might have a walk. I need to…”

I feel like ‘patrol’ might be the word he’s looking for, but Lucifer seems pretty adamant that he’s the boss of the wolf and not the other way around, so I won’t tease him. He sends me back to the house with a nod, then sets off - turning his head first, then the rest of his body, tail pointing out behind him.

I’m expecting to hear the thunder of feet as soon as I get inside, but apparently tigers are lighter-footed than I’d thought. I barely even sense Mammon approaching until he suddenly springs out from around the corner, coming within less than an inch of slamming tie-first into my face before yelping and jerking away.

At the same time, as if struck by invisible lightning, I half-twist and half-leap backwards, hands flying above my head again, and it’s only a moment after the weird, chattering sound that I realise I was the one making it. Mammon skitters several feet away, eyes wide with alarm, then catches himself on the wall and realises what’s going on.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” He holds out his hands in supplication. “Chill, it’s just me!”

I blink at him, mildly out of breath, then say, “I knew that.”

“...are ya gonna put your hands down, then?”

“Yeah.”

He waits. It takes a little effort, but I manage to regain control of my limbs and bring my arms back down to my side.

Mammon cocks his head to the side. His tail goes from pointing down to up, and begins to move idly from side-to-side as he sets his hands on his hips.

“Didn’t scare ya that bad, did I?” He steps closer, then motions for me to look up. “C’mere, lemme get a look at ya.”

“Why were you doing upstairs?” I ask as he pokes at the new markings on my cheeks, then leans back and tilts his head from side to side, squinting at me. “I saw you in the window.”

“Runnin’,” He says after a moment’s thought, squashing both my ears flat against my head. “I kinda… bit Beel. I was sorta worried I’d start bitin’ everyone else, so I was tryin’ to blow off steam. Actually, I was takin’ laps around the garden first, but Lucifer said it was makin’ his head hurt.”

“So you came back in?”

“Well, I did wanna start runnin’ faster,” He admits. “Like, I was there first. But then he growled at me. Figured it wasn’t worth pissing him off after that.”

He swipes a hand across his face, then sighs. “Man. I’m beat. Let’s just find somewhere to chill.”

“Aren’t you hungry at all?” I ask, following him back to the common room. “You were running for ages. Tigers eat a lot even when they’re just sleeping all day.”

“Eh, I’ll manage,” He yawns, slumping onto the sofa cushions and turning onto his side, like a leisurely cat. “‘Sides, I’m pretty sure Beel cleaned out the fridge. And it ain’t like there’s anything to hunt around here.”

“Ooh— actually, do you want a fun fact? Tigers kill their prey by biting onto their throats until they suffocate.”

Mammon lifts his head and gives me a look. “That’s a fun fact?”

“A lot of people think they maul them to death. Well, they can, but the throat thing’s easier. ‘Cause it saves energy.” He looks uneasy, so I try to comfort him by adding, “It’s just what they do. Tiger’s gotta eat.”

“Tiger’s gotta eat,” He repeats, but his face stays creased. “Okay, now tell me something nice.”

“Alright.” I sit down on the carpet in front of him. “Every tiger has a unique pattern. So these are your special Mammon stripes! They’re the same under the fur, too, so you’d still have them even if you were completely bald.”

“Ha! Reckon I could pull it off?”

“Uh... I dunno, your head’s pretty big.”

He smacks me on the arm. “I told ya to tell me somethin’ nice.”

“I’m not going to lie - that’s the nice part. If you did go bald, Levi wouldn’t stop calling you an egghead for a week.”

“Ain’t that mean someone’s smart, too? Hey, I could live with that.”

“But your head would be so shiny. And an eagle might think it was a rock and drop a tortoise on it.”

He snorts incredulously. “Yeah, ‘cause that happens all the time to bald people.”

“It’s happened at least once,” I assert. “Historically. According to one guy two thousand years ago. The bald guy died, by the way.”

“Be a hell of a way to go.” He twists up, so that his chest faces the ceiling, and folds his arms with a deep sigh. “Fine. Guess I’ll hold back, just for you.”

His tail lolls over the edge of the sofa as he closes his eyes. I watch it for a while, glancing periodically up at his ostensibly absent expression, then reach out to catch it.

Like a spider on a string, it flicks backwards, and goes to lying barely an inch away. I try again, then again, then again, and yet it keeps bouncing away, as if it can sense the movement. No matter how fast I move, it’s always just a little faster.

I refuse to give up. I keep batting at it with mounting frustration, switching from quick jabs to slow, careful ambushes before finally turning a glare to Mammon’s face - and belatedly notice that his eyes are fully open again.

We look at each other for a moment. Then I realise that he’s not paying attention, and instinct takes over. Before he can react, I seize his tail and - for some reason I can’t fathom - bite it.

But I suppose I can’t have bitten it very hard, because Mammon usually makes it very loudly known if someone so much as pinches him. This time, he just stares at me. Then he starts laughing.

“Hahaha, oh man—” He reaches forward and gives both my ears an aggressive, adoring rumple, declaring, “Aren’t ya sweet? You havin’ fun with that? Hahahaha!”

“Quit it,” I mumble, pushing his tail away from me with perhaps an unnecessary amount of force, then decide on a whim to climb up onto the sofa with him. “Move up.”

“Oof!” He ends up squished against the back, but I’m too embarrassed to care. “Sheesh, give a guy some breathing room.”

“No,” I muffle into a cushion. “Die.”

“Fine, then. Have it your way.” He burrows one arm under me, then uses that as leverage to make himself some more room. I bury my face in my hands and pretend not to hear his pleased chuffing. “Wanna tell us a bedtime story?”

I peek up at him through a gap in my fingers. “...all the stories Dad told me about tigers end in the tiger dying.”

“Oh, don’t tell me, lemme guess—” He snickers. “—some little red thing tries to eat its tail and—”

Before he can finish, my hands shoot up and tug both of his tiger ears down. This time he does yelp. “Oi! Okay, okay, you win—”

“I don’t even know why I did that,” I grumble, letting go and shielding my face once more.

He chuffs again, pinching my nose with just enough force to be annoying. “Yeah, well, it was funny. Don’t even worry about it. Y’know Levi used to bite my arm whenever he got excited? Man, that was ages ago…”

“You shouldn’t let him bite you now - he’s got snake venom. You’ll get necrosis and your arm’ll fall off.”

“That bad? Yikes.” He yawns, then abruptly tucks me under his chin like a glorified teddy bear. “Good thing you’re gonna guard me, right?”

“I can’t do anything when I’m stuck here,” I complain - knocking my head affectionately into his at the same time, like a hypocrite. “I can’t die valiantly in battle if you don’t let me go.”

“Against a snake? Nah, leave it. That’s not even a cool thing to fight.”

“How dare you say that about Saint Patrick…”

The conversation continues in that vein for a little longer - until Mammon finally runs out of energy to keep coming up with responses, and instead starts responding with a series of low, growling hums. He dozes off soon after that. Considering how long he was sprinting around for, I’m impressed he managed to stay awake for that long.

I’d like to stay with him for a while, but I don’t feel sleepy at all, and it’s also getting kind of warm. I carefully wriggle my way out, then stand up and survey the scene. I reckon I’ll build a few cushions around him, like a fort, and that way he’ll be extra safe…

Once I’m done with that, I decide to go wandering again. Satan’s the only one I haven’t seen so far, and I can’t tell if the ongoing silence from him forebodes well or poorly.

The first place to check is, as usual, the library, which is empty at first glance. Then I catch a pair of vivid green eyes staring at me - a large demon-shaped cat tucked neatly into a high-up gap in the bookshelf.

“...why are you in there?” I ask, even though I know the answer from Hyde, and it’s just that he can, and wants to be.

Satan stays there for a moment, then slips out, landing softly on all fours, and sits gracefully back on his haunches. I’d be worried about the lack of response if it wasn’t for his tail pointed straight up behind him, waving slowly like a happy flag.

“Hello,” He says, perfectly serene.

“Hey.” I give him a knowing look, which he ignores. He’s not fooling anyone who knows him even a little - let alone me. “Are you having fun being a cat?”

“You would not believe,” He replies, and at this point the giddiness starts to seep into his voice. He leans forward a little. “Come here. Scratch my ears.”

There’s a weirdly intense look on his face. I wrinkle my nose at him. “What?”

“Scratch my ears,” He says again, as if it was the instruction that was the problem.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Not if you’re gonna be weird about it—”

“I can purr now,” He says impatiently. “Come on, come on, I’ll show you.”

“Okay, okay—” I bend down a little and give the base of his ears a rub. They’re sleeker than Hyde’s - more intact, too. “Is that good?”

He shuts his eyes, ducking his head so that I get the angle correctly. A familiar sound starts up, even louder and deeper than I’m used to, like a little motor in his chest.

It’s hypnotic. I kneel down beside him, and in turn he starts dipping his head even lower, until it looks like he’s contorted in a funny yoga pose. Eventually he just gives up on supporting himself and flops over onto his side with a content little smile.

A voice in the back of my head comments that this must all look incredibly strange. The voice in the front of my head replies that it’s really cute, so it doesn’t matter.

I mess around with one of his ears and turn it inside out. He doesn’t seem to notice, but the ear itself starts twitching restlessly, as if trying to reverse itself. “What’ve you been up to? What else can you do?”

(It’s kind of hard not to start baby-talking him, but I’m not sure he’d forgive me if I did.)

“Well, Lucifer left his office unlocked, so I went in and got some fur on his chair,” He says triumphantly, opening his eyes for long enough to offer a slow, happy blink. “Then I just took a nap. Sleeping as a cat is much nicer than sleeping as a demon. No wonder they always look so happy.”

There’s no way Satan didn’t spend at least a little time just basking in the bliss of his feline transformation, but I won't force him to admit that. I pick up one of his hands and turn it over. Like Asmo, they look mostly the same, but with little pads on the ends of his long fingers.

Satan yawns, then slowly sits up again. “What are you looking at?”

“Trying to see if your hands do the…” I press down between his knuckles, and his nails do indeed seem to protract. “Whoa! I wonder how that works?”

He looks down, then lets out a shallow gasp and wrenches his hand out of mine, reversing the positions so that he’s holding my left hand instead. His ears are pointed straight up - I imagine a pair of whiskers fanning out from his cheeks.

“You’ve got paws,” He whispers in awe.

“Paw,” I correct, showing him the right one. “This is just a glove. I don’t think the potion works on prosthetic stuff.”

“Interesting..." He frowns. “I wonder if we have any textbooks about this kind of thing.”

I know he prefers spellwork over brewing, which I’ve heard Professor Baal vocally complaining about in the staff room before, so this is a good sign for them. After a moment, though, the scholarly look on Satan’s face vanishes again, and now he’s wearing the same expression he watches kitten videos with.

He tweaks my nose, then starts combing his fingers methodically through the hair I messed up on the sofa earlier, beginning to purr again. I’m suddenly put in mind of those videos of cats grooming each other.

He shifts to better reach the back of my head, and I hear a quiet chime. I look down. There’s a bell tied around his tail.

Weird choice of accessory. It’s not attached very securely - just loosely looped around with a strong string. Satan pauses as I detach the bell, then lift it up and give it a jingle.

I open my mouth to say something, then realise that, based on his expression, he won’t hear a word of it. Satan’s completely frozen in place, eyes fixed on the bell. His now-unadorned tail swishes restlessly behind him.

Holding my breath, I jingle the bell again. The pupils of his eyes expand until there’s barely any green left in them, and he crouches back unconsciously. I think he’s actually trembling a little in anticipation.

I give it one last shake, then toss it away. Satan follows it with a sharp turn of his head - then, wiggling as if to calibrate, pounces at it like— well, like a cat at a mouse.

As soon as he lands beside it, his hand strikes the edge at just the right angle to send it spinning away, and this time he doesn’t even try to adjust before leaping at it again, then again - head held close to the ground, digging his claws into the carpet to keep himself from skidding and then getting them stuck when he tries to keep going. Each time, the bell seems to evade his grasp, right up until he lunges for it a little too rapidly and runs head-first into the wall.

“Oh no—” I’d been covering my mouth to stop myself from laughing, but now it’s more out of shock - I hurry to prop him back up as Satan stares at the ceiling, dazed. “—are you okay?”

He blinks deliriously for a moment, then gives himself a shake and flushes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine—”

He hurriedly gets back to his feet and, for want of something to do, starts flattening the fur on his ears. The bell lies, discarded, a few feet away. His eyes keep darting back to it again.

After a moment, deciding that he doesn’t seem like he has a concussion, I get up to retrieve it. Satan watches me in close anticipation as I toss it in my hand for a moment, then roll it over to him.

His hand shoots out and slams it to the ground. Then he smacks it my way again, and without thinking I dive to the side to catch it.

With each pass, he gets a little more boisterous, and the bell starts moving in wilder, faster directions, criss-crossing all over the library, passed back and forth with barely enough respite to actually jingle. I bounce this way, Satan bounds that way - knocking into furniture so frequently and loudly that it’s not really a surprise when someone comes to see what’s going on.

The door opens, and Satan stops himself short. He sits up straight, replacing his playful expression with a completely serious one, and Levi eyes us both suspiciously.

“What were you doing?” He asks after a moment.

“Nothing,” lies Satan, getting up. His eyes dart down to the bell again, and he discreetly kicks it away. “What’re you doing here?”

He scratches his head. “Well, Asmo got hungry. And I didn’t wanna just sit around in his room.”

“Are you still cold?” I ask. He shrugs.

“I think I’m getting used to it,” He says, coming further into the room. “I mean, it’s still chilly, but it’s like… outside chilly.”

“That’s good. Oh, have you tried eating anything yet? Do you reckon you could swallow stuff whole like Gerald does?”

He grimaces. “Do I have to? That sounds gross. Do we even have anything big enough?”

“Uhh… a big loaf of bread, maybe…?”

Satan, listening to this with interest, glances to the side and spots Levi’s long snake tail, and abruptly shoots into the air - so high that it looks as if a helicopter took off with a rope tied around him. Levi yelps and dives to hide; a moment later, Satan lands on his feet, a good ten feet away from where he started.

Levi peeks warily out from behind the armchair. “What was that?”

Satan clears his throat and refuses to make contact. “Ahem - do you hear people in the common room? Let’s go to the common room.”

The common room is a lot busier than it was since I left it. The twins have arrived, and the scene looks like Mammon’s swapped personalities with Belphie - while the latter is playing a chase game with Beel around the sofa, he has his head propped up on a cushion, blinking reproachfully at them for disturbing him.

Asmo shows up soon after we do, throwing himself into the seat next to me with a metric armful of some leafy vegetable that I can only assume is the Devildom equivalent of celery. He offers me a stick and keeps crunching loudly throughout Levi and Satan’s bickering, cheeks perpetually full like a hamster.

With everyone else gathered here, it’s not long before Lucifer slips in as well, and immediately gets dragged into Belphie’s game with Beel. Lucifer waits until he’s tuckered himself out (which doesn’t take long, because it’s Belphie), to finally call a family meeting of some kind so that everyone can get their bearings.

Though there isn’t much to say - we're all more or less settled into ourselves now, so it’s just a matter of getting used to everyone else. That doesn’t take long, either, and soon enough, certain demons start getting bored. Within the hour, they’re all running around the house again like excited puppies.

…I say ‘they’, but that includes me. Levi’s the one who opts to stay sitting calmly by the fireplace. Belphie keeps collapsing in the middle of the hallway for a five minute nap before he gets up to join in again, and Lucifer has to try to keep up with us to make sure we don’t start breaking everything.

Such is the commotion that no one hears the knock on the door, which Luke left unlocked when he fled. That also means that no one thinks to stop Mammon when he makes to use it as a launchpad - Solomon steps inside and immediately gets bowled over, sending the carefully corked bottle in his hand flying. Behind him, Luke lets out a short squeak and covers his eyes, but it lands safely on the carpet, its momentum carrying it down the hall.

And then it comes to a stop by Satan’s feet.

He stares at the bottle, eyes dilated. His tail flicks restlessly.

“Satan,” Lucifer starts, ears pricked in caution - none of us are close enough to grab the bottle to safety. “Don’t—”

Satan reaches down and bats the bottle cleanly into the wall. It smashes it into about a million smithereens. The rest of us watch the violet potion inside drain into the carpet.

“You know,” Solomon says, cross, “Sometimes you bring this on yourselves.”

[hotvintagepoll]

Ernest Thesiger—who could forget him camping up the screen as doctor pretorius in bride of frankenstein??? a few years before that legendary role he also appeared as the haughty horace femm in the old dark house, creating another memorable weirdo in another witty horror classic from his friend james whale. thesiger was a seasoned theater actor renowned for his comic abilities who moved in many literary and artistic circles, where he was a notorious eccentric and wit and is said to have made no particular secret of his queerness, and his friends included george bernard shaw, john sargent sargent, somerset maugham, radclyffe hall, and ivy compton-burnett, several of whom based fictional characters on him or wrote parts specifically for him (also if anyone here happens to know the gormenghast books, mervyn peake loosely based doctor prunesquallor on him). when he wasn't acting he occupied himself with many artistic endeavors and was particularly expert at petit point embroidery, exhibiting his work internationally and publishing a book on embroidery; he was also skilled at painting, knitting, crochet, lacelace-making, beadwork, costume and jewelry design, and probably more. his screen appearances are always delightful and i just can't imagine a world where we didn't have his signature flamboyant, comic, and menacing gaunt weirdos enriching cinema (supposedly the studio wanted claude rains for pretorius which would have been a wildly different vibe), so give it up for my man ernest.

ZaSu Pitts (Greed, The Bad Sister, Shopworn, Dames, It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World)—The vocal inspiration for Olive Oyl in the Popeye cartoons! ZaSu Pitts started out doing a variety of roles during the silent era, but audiences couldn't take her seriously after the advent of sound, to the extent that preview audiences laughed at her dramatic performance in All Quiet on the Western Front and the role had to be recast. Her doleful eyes, fretful handwringing and quavery voice brought interest to what might otherwise have been forgettable supporting roles, often as flighty spinster types, and it's that wonderfully cartoonish voice and pathetic demeanour that give her true scrungle quality.

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Ernest Thesiger:

He just... has the right vibes. He's so eccentric, but he has so much scrungle that goes with that. I don't think he's ever played a "normal" character in his life!

He's the OG queercoded villain to me. He often plays mad scientists or morally dubious eccentrics, so he's got the perfect scrungly combo of being physically non-intimidating and arch yet vaguely threatening in his presentation and behaviour. He is extremely camp.

Just look at him. He looks like a cat became human

ZaSu Pitts:

2:15-5:23 in the film below [editor's note: I haven't watched the whole film, so no content warnings if you choose to watch all of it.]