#of it ten people can be a lot of people but just comparing the numbers leaves a foul taste in my mouth. i dont like this. i dont like being

[mafufuu]

bleh

[teddybeartoji]

survival of the fittest.

you’ve been doing this for a long time now – mercernary work, and you’re good at it.

kill or be killed.

staring out of the window, you eye the pretty birds circling the street. they’re dancing and they’re singing, boasting about how great their lives are compared to yours. you don’t mind.

a child laughs somewhere down below. cars drive by, a motorcycle, a bike. it’s never quiet, it really never is. but the sounds get more muffled with every floor you climb, and now here on the tenth one, it’s not too bad. this is where you’re staying for the duration of the job; rented under a fake name, the apartment is a studio one. the windows are big and the ceilings are high – it’s perfect for your little spy work.

it’s all just human nature.

6’3, snow-white hair, azure blue eyes, muscular, with scars littered all over his body. the pride of the gojo clan and the first person to inherit both the limitless and the six eyes in four hundred years.

satoru gojo.

your mark.

he’s got quite the hefty price on his head, a lot of people want him gone from this world; he’s too strong, he’s too powerful – everything would be better, if he disappeared. you're just here for the paycheck though.

you’ve been observing him for five days now. with your eyes, with your ears. you’ve followed him through a shopping mall, watching him try on just about a hundred different outfits in about ten different stores. the man is well dressed, other than the outfit he likes to wear at home of course. a pyjama set – it’s white and pink with some kind of a cartoon character on the front of it. cute.

through the scope of the sniper rifle, you watch him live his life. he laughs with the servants in his fancy apartments, he makes jokes with the men that stand guard all day long. he likes to play video games and he likes to watch movies, he likes to work out, he likes to drink pink-colored milkshakes. he can’t sleep. he tosses and turns around in his bed at the early hours of the day, his eyes glued to the ceiling as if that’s going to help. sometimes, he paces around the room. sometimes, he does pushups. but none of it seems to work.

you see him yawn and you see the dark bags under his eyes.

he seems lonely.

it doesn’t matter.

(you are the same.)

he walks through his apartment with his head held up high, he waves the maids good night and they return the gesture with smiles. they seem genuine, and it’s a little hard to believe – this isn’t your first rich guy, your first pampered little boy, who doesn’t even realize what his life means. he doesn’t know what the word ‘work’ stands for, he doesn’t know what it means to survive. you’ve seen how people like him usually treat their servants, how they flinch at the smallest moves.

not with him though.

the air seems relatively light. you haven’t spotted a single tear or a frown from the people who work for him, they’re all seemingly having a blast. it’s interesting. perhaps he isn’t the prick everybody makes him seem to be, hm?

not that you care.

a ridiculously big number floats above his head and you don’t care. you need to live, too.

while he’s now alone in the apartment, you know for a fact there are two guards standing in front of the door and there are three of them down in the lobby. you can see one of them conversing with the doorman just now.

your eyes trail back up the building, the lit up windows and the blurry bodies that hide behind the curtains. he’s different; not once throughout the whole five days you’ve been here has he tried to shield himself from the world. not once has he tried to make your job any harder.

you can’t tell whether it’s arrogance or naivety. you’re leaning toward the former.

there’s a grin on his face.

hm.

what’s he up to now? a jerk-off session? that wouldn’t be new. or maybe he just remembered a witty remark he forgot to tell one of his maids. or is he’s just thinking about eating that ice cream he bought just yesterday? no, it's something else.

as a mercanary, you have to learn how to balance rational thinking and gut instinct. they’re both delicate things, they can change more than you’d ever assume and you have to accept that it’s important to listen to both. right now, your brain is telling you that this is just another night at the gojo apartment. he will watch a film and he’ll eat cereal and he’ll do some pull-ups and then he’ll try to sleep. but there’s this sinking feeling in your lower stomach.

and it only spreads as his smile widens.

he’s right there in your sights, handsome as ever, with your finger now resting on the trigger.

enough.

inhale.

but your breath hitches when he suddenly goes to grab his phone; standing in front of the window, he rests his hand on his hip while bringing the little piece of technology to his ear. it's definitely arrogance. you think of the money, you think of the life you could have. it’s just another job, it’s nothing personal. he doesn’t seem happy anyway. you’re doing him a favour.

it’s a dog-eat-dog world.

it takes almost no force at all to pull the trigger. you’re used to it.

exha—

your phone rings.

blinking into the scope, you try to stay on the middle ground between logic and instinct. he’s not the one calling. he isn’t. stop panicking. adrenaline pumps in your veins but you can’t look away. you feel eyes everywhere around you. you feel sick. he isn’t the one calli—

your phone rings again.

and you watch him raise his hand from his hip to point at his own as he stares right at you.

he’s across the street. he’s so far – you’re looking at him through a fucking scope, he cannot see yo—

ah... so, that’s how the six eyes really work, huh.

alarms blare in your mind. just pull the fucking trigger. the tiny crosshair is set on his forehead.

shoot him.

the corners of his eyes crinkle.

take the fucking shot.

he has dimples.

your hand reaches for your phone without you even realizing it.

"why are you taking so long?" he sounds giddy, he sounds fucking excited. "i'm bored out of my mind here, angel. c'mon– "

"entertain me, hm?"

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

On David Tennant and Aging

So, I’ve seen a lot of posts in response to Tumblr users’ habit of affectionately calling their favorite middle aged dudes “old men”, David Tennant in particular, saying things like “clearly you’ve never met an actual old person”, “omg you talk about these guys like they’re 80”, “please be normal about people aging”, etc. And on one hand, all of these statements are objectively right and true! But as someone who’s always been really fascinated by and found a lot of beauty in getting older (which I’ve explored in some of my writing on A03 because nobody else is going to do it for me), I’d like to provide a bit more nuance on how I think this label applies to David in particular.

David, obviously, in literal terms, is not “old”, at least not to me- I don’t personally consider people old until they get past 60. 52 is middle aged, simple as that. And yet, when I see David stuck with the “old man” label, it still somehow feels weirdly right, for a number of reasons.

It annoys me so much when people say David “hasn’t aged a day since Doctor Who”, because, well…

He clearly has. A lot. He’s got forehead creases, deep crows’ feet and eyebags, and I think that post-Fourteen we’re gonna see him rocking the grey temples a LOT more. He also has the voice of an older man now, his upper range is still there but the default is much more deep and rich, with a gravelly, rumbling quality that just goes straight through you. I personally think Broadchurch was when David finally started to embrace looking his age- Alec Hardy just wouldn’t have been served by Ten’s fresh-faced boyishness.

Obviously, these are the kinds of changes you’d expect any 52-year-old man to have, but something about David just makes it all seem a bit more… intense? The expressiveness of his face combined with his almost gaunt frame makes his wrinkles very prominent, and when he works his voice to its emotional extremes, his lower register can sound positively ancient, to devastating effect.

David, I think, is someone with an old soul- I don’t think he could be as good as he is at playing ancient characters like Crowley and The Doctor if he weren’t. He has lived so many lives, given so much of himself to so many characters, often incredibly tragic ones, and I think it wears on him. David also has five kids. FIVE. Do you know how exhausting it is to be one of the hardest working actors alive and be a present, loving father to even ONE child? But David somehow does it anyway! Nowadays I see him and my heart breaks because he looks so tired, so weary and fragile. But he’s all the more beautiful for it to me because I know that that is because he is kind. He’s a deeply empathetic person who feels and lives to the absolute fullest, and that story is written so clearly on his face, along with every other story he has ever been a part of.

There’s other things about David that make the label endearingly fitting- his utter hopelessness when it comes to technology, for instance. And he’s just got that warm, wise, grandpa energy too sometimes- look at that above Fourteen picture and tell me I’m wrong!

I once showed my friend who’d only seen David in Doctor Who and Harry Potter a picture of David from Around The World in 80 Days. It was a particularly emotional scene, and his face had just the most beautiful expression of compassion and sadness, every wrinkle on full display. And she said, in a less than complimentary fashion, “he looks so old!” Which, of course, offended me quite a bit at first. But to me, referring to David as old almost feels like a badge of honor, something he’s earned by living fully and selflessly, working hard and being wise and compassionate beyond his years. I think David himself is secretly more than a little insecure about the fact that he’s getting older. There’s sadness behind every jovially self-depreciating remark he’s made about his age in the past year, particularly in comparing himself to Ncuti Gatwa. I know how much David struggles with his impostor syndrome and how people perceive him, and I can clearly see in his eyes the fear of being discarded, the anxiety he feels about if he’ll still be as loved as he was back in 2007 now that he’s closer in age to King Lear than he is to Romeo. So I hope David knows it’s a privilege to watch him grow older, to watch his soul and talents deepen with the crinkles around his eyes. If I, in my silly goofy tumblr girl-ness, call David Tennant an old man, it’s because it’s a label that suits him beautifully- even if it isn’t TECHNICALLY an accurate one yet.

[olderthannetfic]

Speaking of AO3 authors wanting more comments and/or perception biases (I assume, since these are a perennial discussion, that someone spoke of one of them recently XD), I was reading a new WIP fic for an ongoing tv show and the author was talking in their author's note about how much engagement had gone down in the fandom for season 2 compared to season 1. By the time I got caught up in the story and left a comment, I noticed they had dozens of comments per chapter, way more than any of the season 1 fics I'd read, and I was like, huh.

Then I clicked into their profile and saw their season 1 fic had *tens of thousands* of kudos and multiple thousands of comments, and all made sense. They stumbled into BNFdom or at least virality and thought that was more or less the default state.

They're going to be chasing that high forever, poor thing; those numbers come about via alchemy and mercury being in gatorade, more than anything else.

--

I see a lot of odd comments about fandom from people who hit Harry Potter at just the right moment. They're expecting to recreate that experience where you can write largely original fic about those kids from the other school or that random classmate who is little more than a name and form a whole fandom subsection around it. Sure, I've seen that other times, but it was always... like... Naruto fandom or something.

And then these poor people get into a normal fandom and it's 99% a ship or two of leads and the overall size and duration of even that is limited. "Where did [that energy/side character stans/etc.] gooo?" they cry. But they didn't go anywhere. This is just what fandoms more typically look like.

[xoxochb]

⋆·˚ ༘ * hey stephen!!

warnings: none pairing: luke castellan x daughter of apollo a/n: the ending is a little rushed but I was on a time limit here 😣

It was an undeniable fact that Luke Castellan was the heartthrob of camp. Girls (and boys too) from various cabins take their chances on the Hermes cabin counselor. Yet to your surprise they got turned down everytime, even the most beautiful from cabin ten. You wondered many times why Luke never went out with anyone but it never bothered you. You were hopeful that the spark you saw when he was around you meant he liked you but your chances were slim, you must be delusional to think such a thing

Although out of all the girls who tried tossing rocks at his windows, or grasping his attention in any way you were the one waiting even when it was cold. And you were the one he always let in. Mostly this makes you think that you might never be alone because you know Luke will never turn down an opportunity to be alone with you- or even with people around- it doesn’t matter because he’ll go out of his way (occasionally discarding camp duties) to get to spend sometimes even a minute with you

Tonight however Luke wasn’t in sight. The nightly campfires were one of your favorite actives in camp- possibly getting to take the number one spot- and today you would be singing a song you had spent the past weeks creating. Usually you would let your siblings take over the musical part of the evening but on this night you decided to bring out your guitar to play your new melody. You wrote this specific song- and you were too embarrassed to tell anyone- for Luke, so when you’re in this current predicament it worried you that he wouldn’t be here to listen to it.

What worried you the most was that Luke never missed campfires. Occasionally with you, yes, but never alone which is why you suspect he’s run off with a girl perhaps. You knew those other girls were beautiful- and your looks couldn’t compare- but would they write a song for him? Probably not.

You sigh and turn to Will Solace on your left. “Have you seen Luke?”

Will ponders for a moment before answering, “He stopped by our cabin right after you left, said he was looking for you”

“And where did he go after?”

Will shrugs. “Away”

You scoff and slap his head. “Don’t be stupid”

He attempts to swat your hand away but you stand up before he can do anything. “I’m going to look for him, I’ll be back”

ੈ✩‧₊˚

You feel as though you’ve walked for ages. But maybe because you don’t walk much makes a few steps seem like a lot. The first place you checked was cabin seven, just making sure Luke wasn’t still lingering awaiting your arrival. Next you checked cabin eleven, nothing there either. You looked at the dining pavilion, the lake, the campfire- again- to check he was indeed not there, the forest, which admitted you did not search thoroughly because it was horrifying at night

You’re stuck standing in the absolute middle of nowhere, how you got there was a mystery. You sit on the grass in defeat and as you ponder you feel tiny drops of water falling onto your head, thanks a lot Zeus!

Now you have to find your way back out of this stupid forest in the rain. You stand up before it starts pouring, and admitted you may have shed some tears. You turn left, and the back right, absolutely no clue where you came from. You’re lucky for your godly roots because you were given the ability to radiate a bright light from your very own body, thanks dad!

You can’t help but wish more for Luke at this very moment. Whenever it rained he would cover you up to assure you wouldn’t get wet, even if it meant that he would be soaked. You turn off your light for a moment, a second to recharge your drained energy. You allow yourself to take a deep breath before taking on step, bumping into a figure before you

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was my fault” the figure says. And you know that voice, you might even go as far as to say you know it better than anyone. In the moonlight you see the face you’ve searched for

“Where the hell have you been, Luke? I’ve been looking for you all over!”

“I’ve been looking for you all over!” Luke explains

“What?” You say in disbelief “Will said you came looking for me, I was at the campfire by then, why weren’t you there?”

“Well he didn’t tell me that! All he told me was that you left and usually you never go to the fire that early so I thought you came to my cabin to look for me, but I went there you I didn’t see you so I went all the way to the fire and you weren’t here either so I asked Will and he said you just left to look for me!”

You run a hand through your hair. “Oh my gods you’re telling me we’ve both been looking all over like crazy people for each other?”

“I guess so”

you sigh. “Well, why were you looking for me?”

“I wanted to walk with you to the campfire”

“But we always just meet there?”

Luke’s cheeks turn pink. “I wanted to talk to you”

Oh no. Was he going to confess his undying love for you? Or are you just a silly hopeless romantic who feeds into every delusion?

“About what?”

Luke’s nervous demeanor worries you. Was he doing something bad? Did he do something bad? Is he suicidal? Is he in love? Is he getting kicked out of camp? Oh no, oh no! You take one of his hands in yours to calm both you and Luke at once

“It’s nothing, forget it”

You squint your eyes at him. “You’re lying”

“I am not”

“When you said you wanted to talk to me your body language was a clear sign that you knew just what you wanted to say. I know a lie when I see one”

“It’s raining, this isn’t the best setting”

“Well I like the rain, so speak”

“I saw the paper, the one with your song. Will told me you wrote it about me”

that little bitch

“I mean, yes, I did. But it was never clear who it was written about”

“I read it myself”

Your cheeks mirror Luke’s. “So what if I wrote it about you? You’re my best friend, you know this”

“Do you write love songs about all your best friends?”

“It was not a love song!”

“I believe the terms ‘angel’ ‘love’ ‘kiss’ and ‘perfect’ were all used”

You drop Luke’s hand. “So I exaggerated things a little bit”

Luke takes the paper from his pocket, the rain washing it away almost instantly but he manages to point out every part of the song referring to being in love

“Why are you obsessed with this?”

“Nobody’s ever written a song for me before-” he sighs “let alone the girl I’m in love with”

You’re unsure how to react to such a display of romantic attraction. Do you run away? Do you tell him you like him back? Do you stay silent? Do you ignore him? Is this the part where you kiss?

You do know, however that Luke looks almost ethereal in the rain, an odd observation but you’d admit it’s very true. The silence takes over the moment, almost awkward because you haven’t replied yet- but in your defense what are you supposed to reply? You’ve only seen love confessions in movies and books and they are much better and easier than the real thing you can now confirm

“What about the other girls?” You decide on asking

“There are no ‘other girls’ there’s only been you”

You have no clue what you’re doing. You don’t know if this is the right approach, but you can’t find it in yourself to care because before you know it your arms are wrapped around Luke’s neck, his finding their way around your waist- and equally both your lips connecting. And even in the cold rain you can’t help but feel warm

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

GO FOR IT! ; YUUTA OKKOTSU

synopsis; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!

word count; 7.4k

contents; yuuta okkotsu/reader, gn!reader, university au, yuuta majors in creative writing and writes poetry in his spare time <3, no curses au, yuuta is a cutiepie, he’s also a loserboy, pining and longing, unrequited love, maki inumaki and panda are wingmen (but not very good ones), fluffy vibes, gojo makes a guest appearance (stay safe), literally just yuuta being whipped for like 7k words straight

a/n; im gonna have to edit this a lot i think….. but for now it should be fine :3 i love the boy!!

”you’re staring. again.”

yuuta flinches. a jolt overtakes him, running through his body, and the pen he’d been absently writing with slips from his fingers. it tumbles down to the ground with a soft thunk. 

gazing up at the shadow towering over him, his eyes are wide, a little flustered; like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. like he’s expecting a smack on the head from the person in front of him.

— it’s maki. 

and she looks displeased, lips pursed and a single eyebrow raised. unimpressed, as she stares him down — the same way he’d been looking at you just a second ago.

”they’re gonna think you’re a creep if they catch you, you know,” she sighs, shifting from one foot to another. carrying her bass in a case on her back.

”maki, c’mon,” comes from behind her, an even larger figure strolling up to the pair. grinning brightly, fluffy hair tousled by the afternoon breeze. ”cut him some slack!” 

”salmon,” a third voice joins in. inumaki’s got some green paint staining the sleeve of his hoodie, and his fingers are dirtied with charcoal.

his closest friends, all joining him on the table they usually frequent on campus. right next to a giant tree, casting a pleasantly cool shade and obscuring the irritating brightness of the sun.

maki, headstrong and resilient. infamously rude. a music major, primarily, though yuuta knows she has more than a couple minors. if you pay attention, you can see her almost everywhere on campus, and she always does well on exams. confident, enough so that just being around her makes yuuta feel a little more secure in himself.

panda, a big kid with a big heart, always wearing monochrome clothes. ‘panda’ can’t possibly be his real name, though yuuta’s never found the courage to ask. truthfully, he isn’t sure panda even has a major, or goes to this university at all — but nobody’s mentioned it yet, and he doubts they ever will.

and then inumaki, the quiet kid, always helpful and kind. a little teasing, too. selectively mute, speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients, but yuuta has already begun adjusting to the thought behind his phrases. an art student with remarkable talent, from sculptures to comics to paintings. he mostly spends his lectures playing games on his phone, though. and he's the kindest guy yuuta knows.

his beloved friends. the reason he can smile through each day, even when it’s a little difficult.

and maki’s right, he knows she is. if you were to lock eyes with him, and realize he’d been glancing over at you for the past ten minutes… god, he doesn’t even want to think about it. you’d be weirded out for sure, wouldn’t you?

but yuuta just can’t help it. you’re far too radiant to ever look away from, smile much too pretty.

you’re just sitting there, laughing and talking with your friends, the same as any other day. comparing hand sizes with miwa, or leaning over to whisper in mai’s ear. snorting over something momo said, or trying to understand the code kokochi’s fiddling with on his laptop. just being yourself, with people you’re close to.

and yuuta desperately wishes he could be among them. wishes he could see your honeyed smile up close, hear the melodic lilt of your laughter, breathe in the lingering scent of your shampoo. he wishes he could speak to you without stuttering, without tripping over his feet — hang out with you outside of class. just something small, like studying together, or grabbing a bite to eat.

he wishes he could get to know you. 

yuuta thinks he must seem like a fool, to be so affected by your mere presence. everything comes to him so easily, when he looks at you; the pitter patter of his heart, his sweaty hands, the whirlwind of butterflies swirling in his chest. even just the way you twirl your hair or chew on your pencil is so mesmerizing. 

so all he can do is stare, hopeless, a moth to a flame. basking in the warmth of your gaze, directed at your friends.

hoping one day, maybe… that warmth will fall upon him, as well.

(maybe one day.)

”hellooo? earth to yuuta!”

”see? he’s hopeless.”

”mentaiko…”

”inumaki’s right. he’s a man in love!”

”he’s a boy with a stupid crush,” maki scoffs, picking at a piece of lint on her tank top. ”and we have a study session we need to get done. the exam’s next week, remember?”

exam.

yuuta shoots up, wasting no time in grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. the ring hanging around his neck dangles with the sudden movement, and he clutches onto it.

”ah — right!” he squeaks, apologetic. ”sorry, it completely slipped my mind —”

before his mind can begin to overthink every action he’s taken these past few hours, a hand reaches out to pat his shoulder. pat, pat. reassuring and stabilizing.

inumaki smiles at him. yuuta can’t see his mouth, from behind the fabric of his hoodie, but his eyes crinkle softly; and it’s enough to put yuuta’s heart at ease.

”don’t apologize,” maki says. simple, straightforward. ”let’s just get going. i need to do better than naoya did last time.”

”you’re still mad about that, huh?”

”he only got a higher score because i wasn’t on top of my game,” she grumbles, digging her nails into the pockets of her baseball jacket. ”he doesn’t even like music. he’s just taking the course to piss me off. grown ass man.”

a chuckle slips from yuuta’s lips. the warm breeze ruffles his hair, and he holds onto the strap of his backpack, following closely behind as his friends begin to leave. sending one final glance at your figure, over by a table near the apricot trees.

and that’s when it happens.

— he looks over at you, and finds that your eyes are already on him. 

a moment passes.

while yuuta struggles to find his breathing, your lips curl up into a soft smile. then you raise your hand, waving to him cheerily, teeth peeking out from between your lips. he can see it clearly, even with the distance between you. 

a smile that glimmers like a jewel, in the light of the sun. 

yuuta feels his lips part, mouth falling open ever so slightly. but he waves back, afraid to take too long, unable to stop the pounding of his heartbeat — smiling giddily, like a schoolgirl tripping over her feet. 

his friends just watch, wholly unimpressed.

”do you think he’d notice if i threw a rock at him?”

”maki!”

”what do you like about them, anyway?”

the question is unexpected. yuuta has to do a double take, eyes straying from his excerpt of sappho 31 up to the person seated across from him. tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, resting her sharp jaw on the heel of her palm. 

”huh?”

”them. your crush,” maki reiterates. ”what caught your attention? there’s got to be something, yeah?”

”oh?” panda chirps, leaning back in his chair. a teasing grin playing at his lips. “i thought you didn’t care about his silly little crush.”

”i don’t.” a huff pushes past her lips, hands reaching to fix her lazy ponytail, hair tie dangling from between her teeth. ”i’m just bored. i already know all this, anyway.”

”tuna mayo.”

”oh, are you curious too, inumaki?”

”well, out with it. why them?”

yuuta blinks. once, then twice — mind spinning in circles, as his friends await his answer.

and, truthfully, yuuta can’t pinpoint the exact moment he felt it. that burst of joy, that tinge of excitement — the puppy love that rika always spoke of. she was always good at verbalizing her emotions, in a way yuuta never could.

(he always knew he loved her, but he could never put it into words.)

and he knows that he likes you. he knows because every word you speak has him stumbling over what to say, because even a single smile sent his way makes the world feel so gentle. he knows because he’d probably throw himself into incoming traffic, if you just asked him to.

but he can’t put it into words. not spoken ones, anyhow — putting them on paper is one thing, the one thing he can do. writing out his love for you in similes and metaphors, sonettes and alexandrines. it’s how he copes with everything; writing and writing, til his fingers start to hurt. he can compare you to a dandelion, to the way cicadas buzz in the light of the sun. the scent of childhood. but it’s harder to speak it out loud, to turn the feelings into sounds — that’s maki’s specialty, not his.

why does yuuta like you?

he remembers it clear as day, but still can’t pinpoint the exact second he fell headfirst into love. it was more of a creeping realization, something soft and sweet trickling through his veins. that sinking feeling, how helplessly he fell for you.

it all started with a pencil.

in hindsight, it’s a little silly. but yuuta can’t bring himself to think back to that moment with anything other than fondness.

(your smile was just so bright.)

that day had been a disaster. he was nervous, painfully so, afraid of every single new thing he came across during his first week of uni. scatterbrained, running on almost no sleep, unsure of where to put his feet as he walked.

honestly — what kind of trainwreck forgets their pen and notebook during their very first workshop?

all that anxiety, all those hours spent overthinking, and he still couldn’t manage something so small. in the moment, he almost panicked; sitting with you, a total stranger, wholly unprepared for such a simple assignment. read a couple excerpts, analyze them on paper. all yuuta could do was stare blankly at his lap, frozen, throat dry. hands cold with sweat.

but then you smiled.

”did you forget your notebook?” you had asked, voice set to a soothing tilt. calm, not angry or impatient.

”ah — yeah, i, um…” yuuta could only swallow thickly, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. ”i’m sorry. i haven't been sleeping well, so —”

”hey, hey, it’s fine!” you chuckled, teeth peeking out from between your lips. ”i totally get it. i almost forgot my laptop at yesterday’s lecture. we can just share!”

then you pushed your notebook closer to him, inviting him in. moving your chair a little, angling it towards him. but all yuuta could think of was how pretty your smile looked, how kind your presence felt.

”here you go,” you grinned, snapping him out of his trance. ”you can use this.”

a pencil. yuuta took it from your opened palm, gazing at it in wonder. an orange-coloured, halloween-themed pumpkin design. completely out of season. the tiny pumpkin was cute, though.

such a casual kindness. but maybe that's exactly why it made his heart flutter so deeply; as if you did it without even really thinking. as if kindness comes easy, to you.

that’s probably how it began. by the time the workshop ended, yuuta knew that he liked you, and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be your friend.

(subconsciously, his fingers tap at the zipper of his backpack. the pumpkin pen is still with him, after you waved him off with a smooth you can keep it, if you want. yuuta has found that he always writes best when he uses it.)

”well?”

maki’s voice snaps him out of his trip down memory lane, and he stumbles for something to say. what does he like about you?

squirming, yuuta feels his face heat up, as he thinks of you. all he can see is your smile, the kindness in the tilt of your voice. the brightness of the grin you sent his way. warm and saccharine, like the sun peeking out after a downpour — when the streets smell like honeydew and rain.

”they’re just… so cool,” he finally sighs, a dreamy look smoothing over his face. ”they’re so nice. and their smile is so beautiful. they’re so smart, too — god, you should see the way they write — everything about them is just…”

yuuta blushes a deep red, smiling even still. lovesick. ”.. so, so wonderful.”

maki freezes in the midst of the tapping of her pencil. panda stops kicking at the foot of the table. and inumaki looks away from his phone, messing up his full combo.

a moment of silence passes. the study hall grows quiet, and yuuta looks down at his lap; suddenly embarrassed. sipping from his little carton of apple juice.

”hey…” panda starts, delicate. somehow, yuuta dreads the teasing edge to his voice. ”have you thought about confessing to them, yuuta?”

”what?” the boy in question squeaks, choking on his juice. ”no, of course not!”

”why?” maki deadpans. popping a chip into her mouth. ”you’re head over heels, right? might as well do something about it.”

inumaki hums. affirmative.

”i… don’t know,” yuuta sighs. a heavy breath, a little wobbly. meek. ”they’d just reject me, wouldn’t they? i mean…”

(you’re totally out of his league. right?)

maki scoffs, sitting up a little straighter. there’s an angered kind of affection in her eyes. ”you’re just deciding that all on your own. how would you know how they feel?”

the gaze she sends his way is intense. it always has been. there’s a kindness to it, though, something that makes yuuta want to look her in the eye — but he can’t, eyes still locked on his hands, resting in his lap. ”… still,” he manages a weak smile, somewhat sheepish. ”even if i wanted to, there’s no way i could. i’m too much of a coward.”

…

maki slams her textbook shut. the sound is sudden, loud. yuuta flinches, and a wince leaves inumaki’s lips. panda just watches her, snacking on some chips, a mild curiousity simmering in his eyes.

the girl in question gets up from her seat, grabbing her bass case and throwing it over her shoulder. then she looks at yuuta, eyes full of decision.

”— well, lucky for you, we’ve got some time to spare.”

a blink. yuuta gazes up at the girl in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.

maki sighs. exasperated. ”i’m saying we’ll help you. don’t look so resigned, dumbass.”

at that, panda gets up too — suddenly excited. ”are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

she just huffs, smiling even still. ”probably not. but let’s hear it.”

the grin on his face widens. he scribbles something down in his notebook, showing off the writing proudly. ”operation: get yuuta to confess is about to commence!”

inumaki turns off his phone. sitting up straight, arms decisively crossed, a strangely serious expression on his face. completely invested.

”wait — wait!” yuuta stutters, eyes wide with flustered shock. ”don’t i get a say in this?”

”of course not.”

”nope!”

”bonito flakes.”

”b… but —”

”alright, so here’s what i’m thinking,” panda begins, writing down unintelligible notes on the pages of his tattered notebook. ”we need to start small. we don’t want yuuta getting heart palpitations and fainting in the middle of campus, so —”

”tuna mayo?”

”yeah, that’s perfect! hang on, lemme just…”

”let me see. i don’t want you messing this up.”

yuuta’s voice comes out tiny, as it falls from his lips. more of a squeaky breath. ”guys, i really — you don’t need to —”

panda continues to scribble in the notebook, engrossed, arm hanging off maki’s shoulder as they go over the contents. inumaki nods along, walking over to them with lazy steps. yuuta’s protests go unnoticed, and all he can do is watch them mutter under their breaths.

”— okay. listen up, yuuta.”

he raises his head, and meets maki’s sharp eyes. she’s smiling, strolling over to place the notebook right in front of him. ”here’s how this is gonna go.”

yuuta looks down. 

everything is written out with a pink sharpie, glittery and pretty. there are little hearts doodled out across the pages, and he can tell exactly which ones were drawn by who. all of them look messy, with the exception of inumaki’s perfect little shapes. 

and there, right in the middle, lies a line of text.

panda reads it out, voice loud and cheery, while maki and inumaki stick close. all smiling, as a chill crawls down yuuta’s spine.

”step 1: ask for their number!”

plan a

”okay, so… what am i supposed to do, exactly?”

panda throws an arm over yuuta’s shoulder, and he’s enveloped by the scent of fresh sunlight. the weight is heavy, a comfort. ”we’re going with my plan first! it’s the best one, so don’t worry.”

”i don’t know about that,” maki scoffs. ”we can’t ask mai. best case scenario, she’ll laugh at us a little and say no.”

inumaki hums. he rips out a part of the notebook he’s been tasked with carrying, doodling a little face and showing it to the rest of his friends.

yuuta leans in close. it’s a cute doodle, charming. and he can tell who it’s supposed to depict. miwa kasumi.

”yeah, she’s our best bet,” maki sighs, brushing some specks of dust off her jeans. ”she seems like the nicest one in that group.”

yuuta tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. he plays with the ring hanging around his neck, a nervous tick he’s never managed to get rid of. ”wait, so…” he trails off, unsure. ”what are we doing, exactly?”

panda tugs him closer, a friendly smile on his face. ”we’re going to their friends for help!” he beams. ”that’ll be easier for you, right?”

a blink. yuuta gazes into the eyes of his friend, something soft blooming in his eyes.

they can be a chaotic bunch — but they’re still so considerate. considerate enough to know asking for your number straight out would be too much for him. considerate enough to think of his comfort, in a way no one else has bothered to before.

(faced with such immense understanding, such genuine friendship, how could he ever bear to let them down?)

”… alright,” yuuta gulps, clutching his ring as if to give him courage. managing a smile. ”let’s do this, then!”

with newfound determination, the four of them seek out miwa kasumi. it doesn’t take too long — she’s studying, going over legal codes in the library, eyes narrowed in concentration. and she isn’t alone.

”hey, miwa. muta.”

the pair look up from their respective textbooks and laptop, meeting the gaze of a certain maki zenin, waltzing over to their table. miwa smiles, but kokichi doesn’t say anything.

”hi, maki! how are you?”

”i’m good,” she answers, straight to the point; but her eyes soften a little. then she gestures towards yuuta with a tilt of her head. ”sorry, but this guy needs your help.” 

”hm?” miwa shifts in her seat, meeting yuuta’s nervous gaze, as he steps forward. ”ah, you’re… okkotsu, right?”

”ah, yeah! sorry for interrupting you two…”

”no, no! please, don’t worry about it,” she grins. sweet and soft, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. ”we don't mind. right?”

kokichi still doesn’t say anything. but he nods, when miwa meets his eyes — and yuuta notices that they seem a lot softer when she does.

”so, here’s how it is…”

panda explains the situation to the pair. yuuta looks down at the floor, face flushed as he shifts from foot to foot. by the time he’s finished, miwa looks wholly invested, and kokichi looks a little less like all he wants is for them to leave him and miwa be.

”awww, that’s so sweet!!” she gushes, clasping her hands together. eyes glimmering with excitement.

”right,” maki hums. already a little impatient. ”so, basically — we need their number.”

”… ah. well, um —” miwa trails off, averting her gaze. she looks over at kokichi, but he only shrugs, going back to his coding. ”see, here’s the thing…”

with an apologetic look in her eyes, she turns to yuuta. ”i support you 100% — but i dunno if it’d feel right to just… give away their number like that, you know?” she mumbles, sheepishly. ”i think you should ask them, yourself. that’d be way more romantic!”

”yeah, but that’s a tall hurdle for a socially anxious guy…” panda mutters, patting yuuta’s back.

”still! i’m sure they’d appreciate you being direct.” miwa closes her eyes, a dreamy expression painted on her face. ”i’d be elated if someone asked for my number like that!! all stuttering and shy… it’d be so cute!”

(if anyone notices kokichi stiffening beside her, they don’t mention it.)

maki sighs, resigned. ”well, i don’t think we’re getting any numbers here. good. what kind of creep just texts someone out of nowhere, anyway?”

”i thought it was a good plan!” panda protests, pouting a little. maki shoots him a look.

”it was an awful plan. what were you planning to say? hey, i forced your friend to give me your number, but would you want to hang out sometime?” she crosses her arms with a sharp scoff. ”i’d beat your ass!”

panda grumbles a little under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. 

”sorry i couldn’t be of more help,” miwa mumbles, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. ”good luck, though! i hope they say yes!”

”thanks, miwa,” yuuta smiles, already in the process of being tugged away by his friends. ”i really appreciate it!”

plan a

plan b

”alright, inumaki’s turn. what’s your take on the situation, mister?”

the boy in question sits up straight, back resting against a tree trunk. he writes something down, and yuuta waits, patiently — absentmindedly staring at the white petals of the apricot trees on campus. pure, fleeting, sweet blossoms unfurling before him.

when he’s finished, inumaki presents the page to yuuta, and everyone gathers round. reading the writing, eyes trailing over his little doodles. panda grins, and maki strokes her chin in contemplation.

”you’re a genius, inu!”

”well, it’s probably the easiest way to go about it…”

yuuta purses his lips. it’s a good plan, he thinks; writing out a note, and passing it to you in the middle of class. that way, he won’t have to turn his feelings into sounds, won’t have to speak them out loud. there’s a safety to it, the trickling of ink across blank papers. one that’s never failed him.

”… that should work,” he mumbles, and inumaki visibly brightens. ”what am i supposed to write, though?”

”just be straightforward.”

”not seconded!” panda huffs, crossing his legs. ”you need to be dramatic. heartfelt. that’ll catch their attention!” he stops to think for a moment, a hum buzzing loudly in his throat. ”hey — why not write them a love poem? put those skills to good use!”

”a love poem?” yuuta squeaks, a slight heat rising to the tips of his ears. ”there’s no way i could do that! and i’m not skilled, i —”

a pause. yuuta bites his lip.

”… it’d just be embarrassing,” he finally mutters, playing with his ring.

(he wonders what rika would think, if she were here. what she’d advise him to do — would she like the love poem idea? probably.)

”well, you could at least try. who knows, maybe they’ll like it,” maki attempts to reassure him, chewing at a piece of gum. ”if they’re anything like miwa, it’ll be easy.”

gnawing at his bottom lip, yuuta emits an anxious hum. deep in thought. maybe you would like it, but… what if you just think it’s cheesy?

maki observes him, intently. listening to the emotions behind his silence. tapping the pads of her fingers on her knee, in a rhythmic motion. ”… at least try writing something out,” she says. ”if you can’t think of anything, then just copy some random old guy. what was his name, uh — catallas? or something?”

yuuta’s gaze snaps up, eyes gone wide. ”catullus?” he gapes, in disbelief. ”are you insane? do you even know what kind of poems he wrote?”

maki shoots him a confused look, and a tilt of her head. ”isn’t he the ’give me a thousand kisses’ guy?”

”he is, but that’s —” a sigh, exasperated. flustered, as it flows from his parted lips. then he shakes his head. ”nevermind. it doesn’t matter.”

”tuna…” inumaki mumbles, nudging yuuta’s shoulder with his head. a silent encouragement. and even with no words, yuuta knows what he’s trying to say.

just be yourself. this is your specialty, right? 

write from your heart.

”inumaki…” yuuta meets his gaze, and is met with a pair of warm eyes. a friendly punch meets his shoulder, soft and delicate. kind.

”… alright. i’ll write it!”

”that’s the spirit!” panda grins. ”just give it to them during tomorrow’s lecture.”

”yeah,” yuuta nods, mustering the courage to smile. ”i will!”

when yuuta gets home that night, he makes himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar, and gets ready to write.

he listens to maki’s acoustic guitar covers through his headphones, curled up with the fluffy blanket panda gave him, and munches on a hastily made onigiri to give himself much-needed energy.

(writing with a certain pumpkin-themed pencil, basking in the scratching of lead against blank pages.)

his hands are shaking.

it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of his bones, the rattling of his skeleton. you’re sitting right next to him, so close he can smell the shampoo you use, the mint off your breath —

and yuuta can’t seem to hand you the note.

he spent all last night writing it. putting every single little drop of his love into every single little word. but that fear of rejection still remains, rendering him useless, unable to act.

you’re listening to the lecture, but only halfheartedly, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook. out of boredom, he assumes.

it’s the perfect moment to strike.

yuuta’s hands are shaking, and his heartbeat is stuttering, crawling up his throat. he takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll make the dry sensation go away, but it doesn’t work.

(just be yourself.)

with a deep intake of breath, he pushes the note over to you — not daring to look your way.

his eyes remain glued on the laptop screen in front of him, but he hears you pick it up, hears the rustling of paper as you unfold it. his heart echoes with a similar rhythm, unstable, borderline erratic. the rest of the lecture passes by slowly, minute by minute, at an agonizing pace.

when it finally ends, yuuta has to restrain the urge to run away — turning towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if just the sight of you could blind him if he isn’t careful. but you’re already looking at him. and you’re smiling.

”that was so good, yuuta!”

….

huh?

”sorry, but i honestly don’t have any feedback,” you mumble, eyes trailing over the note again. ”i like it a lot. i didn’t know you wrote poetry!”

”… ah.”  yuuta stumbles for something to say. staring into your eyes, blankly. dumbly. ”t.. thank you! i’m glad you liked it.”

with a brief shake of your head, you smile, and something sickly sweet unfurls in his chest. ”not at all. thanks for letting me read it! i’m sorry i can’t really help you improve…”

mentally, yuuta falls to his knees. places his palms on the floor and dry heaves, clutching his heart. did you not get it? was he not clear enough? he wrote it with you in mind, so —

”maybe you could show it to professor nanami?” you suggest, unaware of the turmoil within the boy to your right. ”i'm sure he’ll be a great help! he can seem a bit intimidating, but he’s nice.”

”.. yeah,” yuuta smiles, weakly. ”i’ll do that. thanks again.”

for a moment, he isn’t even upset. because you flash him another bright smile, and suddenly, even the frustration of yet another setback doesn’t feel so awful.

(maybe it’s fine, he thinks. maybe this is enough; speaking to you, getting to see your smile up close. maybe he doesn’t need anything else, after all.)

”so?” maki questions, waiting for him outside of class with his other two friends. ”how’d it go?”

shoulders slumped, but still wearing a smile on his face, yuuta chuckles. it comes out sounding a little strangled. ”they… thought i wanted their feedback on my poetry.”

….

”what.”

panda attempt to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t really work. inumaki elbows him gently, but yuuta sees his eyes crinkle, too. he breathes out a low chuckle. ”they liked the poem, at least. so i’m happy.”

a sigh falls from maki’s lips, and she waltzes over to him, a hand on her hip. the other reaches out for the note in his palm. ”let me see.”

quickly unfolding it, her eyes trail across the words on the pages, the flowery lines of writing —

and then she shoots him an unimpressed look.

”.. yuuta,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. ”what the hell is this? you didn’t even mention their number.”

panda leans over her shoulder, peeking at the text. eyes glancing over a couple lines, riddled with sugarsweet metaphors. ”uh, wow. you… really got into it, huh?”

a groan leaves yuuta’s lips, the sound muffled as he cradles his head in his hands. ”please don’t say anything else. i just wanna crawl into a hole and die…”

inumaki shakes his head, erratic, pointing at the poem with shining eyes. ”mentaiko!”

”ah, you liked it? thanks, inumaki…”

the boy in question smiles, shooting yuuta a thumbs up. he returns it with a small smile of his own.

surrounded by his friends, all he can do is bask in their warmth — and the memory of the smile you gave him.

plan a plan b

plan c

a groan fills the air, as yuuta slumps over the table. cheek pressed against the cold wood, absently kicking his legs, voice meek and defeated.

”this is never gonna work,” he mutters under his breath. eyes devoid of hope. ” i’m just not cut out for this, guys…”

”aw, c’mon….” panda reaches over to ruffle his hair, palm big and warm. ”don’t give up hope! you want to grow closer to them, don’t you?”

”i do, but…” he sighs. ”this isn’t going very well, is it…?”

inumaki frowns, sending yuuta a sympathetic glance.

”oh, quit moping already!” maki grumbles. ”we just need to keep brainstorming. isn’t it time for my plan, yet?”

”should we really even keep going…?” another sigh, heavy with fatigue. yuuta’s mind spins in circles, tiring him out. rendering him a bit cynical. ”i mean… maybe it’s fine if things stay this way.”

a moment passes. maki looks at him, emitting a soft scoff. ”what, so you’re just gonna keep pining for the rest of the term?”

”that’s the plan.”

”yuuta…” panda pouts, shoes bumping against his beneath the table. ”be more positive! just think about it; with every step you take, you get closer to confessing!”

yet another groan. this one is deep, riddled with exhaustion. muffled into the table. ”that’s the scariest part…”

before either of his friends can begin to persuade him otherwise, encourage him further, a sing-songy voice echoes throughout the air. loud, cheery — a little bit obnoxious.

”oh? did someone just say confess?”

at the same instant the sound reaches their ears, a chill runs down the youths’ spines. in tandem with each other, they raise their heads; gazes falling on a certain satoru gojo.

panda and maki are the first to act, speaking simultaneously as the white haired man inches closer. 

”— no.”

maki closes the notebook containing operation: get yuuta to confess, right before their professor can get close enough to see it. then she turns towards him, shooting him a cold look.

”your hearing’s getting bad,” she hums. ”maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.”

a pout. gojo takes a seat right beside her, uncomfortably long legs bumping against every single other pair of shoes beneath the table.

”oh, c’mon. you know i heard you.” his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks it away. ”you’re starting to sound just like megumi, y’know that?”

maki grits her teeth. ”guess it’s a genetic thing,” she huffs. ”now can you leave? don’t you have papers to grade?”

”don’t you have papers to write?” gojo smirks, a teasing mirth in his eyes. hidden behind his sunglasses. maki ignores him. 

placing his palms on the table, he leans a little closer, lips curled up into a cheshire grin. foreboding. ”sooo… yuuta’s got himself a little crush, huh?” he teases. ”tell your favorite professor allll about it. maybe i can help!”

”professor geto is our favorite,” maki shoots back, instantaneous.

a soft huff. there’s something sour in gojo’s expression, now. ”that guy? really?”

before the two can argue further, yuuta takes the opportunity to to speak. smiling apologetically, polite and sweet. ”thanks, mr. gojo, but…”

”he doesn't need your help,” maki cuts in. so much for diffusing the tension. ”and do you really expect us to believe you get girls?”

”wha — rude!” gojo scoffs. ”for your information, i’m a natural charmer!”

… 

a moment passes. then another.

”… tough crowd,” he clicks his tongue, met only with four blank stares. ”but, really — let me help! i'm your professor, you know?”

and this time, yuuta thinks that gojo’s smile looks just a little more sincere. something kind and gentle in the way his lips curl up, like a father’s affection for their children. something that makes yuuta falter.

(maki might like mr. geto more — but when it comes to yuuta, his favorite professor is a no-brainer.)

so he speaks up, again. ”we can at least hear him out, right…?” maki shoots him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t back down. ”we’re stuck, anyway…”

and just like that, gojo brightens. it’s obvious, in the way he sits up, more alert. in the way his grin grows wider. ”right? what you need is the perspective of someone more experienced.”

”have you even talked to a girl before?”

”i see him at ieiri’s office, sometimes.”

”salmon.”

”isn’t she a lesbian? that doesn’t count. i mean, like, in a romantic context.”

”i thought mr. gojo was gay, too?”

”what? no way. have you seen the way he’s dressed —?”

gojo clears his throat, voice loud and grating. demanding attention, cutting his eager students off. ”anyway,” he chirps. ”gather round, children! i’ll tell you exactly how to ask the person you like for their number.”

”wh —” yuuta blinks. ”how’d you…?”

”operation ’get yuuta to confess!’, step 1: ask for their number!” gojo repeats, grinning ear to ear. voice rich with amusement. ”i like the glitter. it’s a nice touch.”

maki huffs. looks like she didn’t close it fast enough.

begrudgingly, the youths quiet down, finally willing to hear their professor out. and gojo seems satisfied, at last, speaking in a hushed whisper; eerily serious all of a sudden. ”ok, so here’s what you do…”

everything goes silent. yuuta strains his ears, and gojo parts his lips. 

”— just ask them! easy, right?

….

”let’s go, yuuta.”

”mentaiko.”

”i heard they're serving those sandwiches you like at the cafeteria today! let's hurry before they run out.”

”ah — i was just kidding!” gojo laughs, as his students get up from their seats. ”i have an actual answer!”

maki grabs her bass, inumaki takes the notebook, and panda ushers yuuta away. they begin to walk down the hall, ignoring the pleas of the man behind them. pouting, as his shout echoes throughout the hallway. 

”kids! come back!”

plan a plan b plan c

plan d

”okay, so this is going absolutely nowhere.”

relishing in the shadow cast by the giant campus tree, the four friends sit on their usual table, sandwiches in hand. yuuta takes a bite of his, tentative. a little disheartened.

”really, guys… i appreciate it a lot, but maybe we should stop here.”

maki huffs. reaching across the table, she gently smacks him over the head with her can of sprite. ”no way. we still haven’t tried my plan.”

he leans back, a little further, a hesitant look in his eyes. the sun shines down, relentless, but the air smells like rain. in the distance he sees clouds, dark, approaching at a slow pace.

an omen, he thinks. a reason not to speak out.

rika always liked the rain. she liked the scent that came with it, the puddles she could jump in. she liked shaking the branches of tiny trees, just to see him jolt and squeak as the raindrops hit him.

the ring around his neck weighs heavy on his heart. the promise of it, the oath within the silver.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!)

”earth to yuuta!”

his eyes flutter open.

the sun shines down, embracing the contours of his face. painting his world yellow. from this angle, staring up at the tree, he can see it breaking through; between the gaps of the green leaves, the white blossoms. forcing its way into his line of vision.

a flicker of hope.

”do you want to hear the plan or not?” maki scoffs, crossing her arms and tapping at her elbow. impatient.

yuuta meets her gaze, finding it in him to muster up just a little more determination. ”yeah,” he breathes. ”i do.”

a smile blooms on her face. ”good. alright.”

panda and inumaki inch closer to the pair, careful not to knock over the cans of soda resting on the table. in a mess of limbs and tousled hair, they gather round.

this is it, yuuta thinks — the final plan. if it fails, he’ll just have to keep pining from afar. memorizing your smile, over and over, until you graduate and part ways. 

this is it.

maki parts her lips.

”— just ask them,” she says. ”straight out.”

silence. 

a moment passes. a soft, pleasant breeze flits by, caressing yuuta’s skin. his ring sways with the wind, gently. 

”… huh?!”

panda furrow his brows, leaning closer with his palms on his knees. ”i thought we agreed that was stupid!” inumaki huffs out a low affirmative noise, holding his sketchbook tightly to his chest. but maki only puffs out her chest.

yuuta tilts his head, with a soft furrow of his brows. ”didn’t you just cuss out mr. gojo for suggesting that…?”

”well, it’s dumb when he says it…” she mutters, under her breath. then her gaze turns firm. ”look — yuuta.”

when the two lock eyes, he notices a steadfast determination, glimmering in her irises. something almost burning.

”you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re too cowardly to even look them in the eye,” she tells him, not allowing him to squirm away from the eye contact. ”you guys can come up with those convoluted plans all you want, but there’s no way you’ll grow closer if you can’t face them.”

tousling her hair, softly, maki lets out a sigh. there’s a kindness to it, distinct. he can tell she’s trying to be tactful. 

”if you really want to get to know them, then you have to be direct. and you have to believe in yourself. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that they’ll say no — but that’s just dumb.”

panda winces, under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. maybe this is exactly what yuuta needs to hear.

the boy in question listens, the eyes of his friend boring into his own. determined, confident, sincere — everything he isn’t. everything he wants to be.

”even if you don’t believe it, you’re a charming guy. we all think so,” she continues, matter-of-factly. angered affection overflowing in her voice.

”have some confidence, dammit!”

a moment passes. yuuta feels his lips part, ever so slightly. a little speechless.

panda and inumaki sit shoulder to shoulder, hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sight in front of them. comically, as if it’s too bright to look at directly. 

”this… overflowing tough love…!”

”salmon roe…!”

maki grins, all teeth, a little wolfish. but kind. ”the worst thing they can say is no, right? 

yuuta blinks. ”maki…” he mumbles, looking into her eyes, a certain sensation running through his chest. a kind of confidence. passed on from her to him — one friend to another. the most natural exchange in the world.

then he smiles. a little meek, somewhat awkward — but bright. ”yeah. yeah, you’re right!”

the lazy grin on her lips only deepens, as she gets up to her feet, dusting non-existent dirt off her jeans. reaching a hand out for yuuta to take. ”c’mon, loser. shape up. you’re gonna steal their heart, aren’t you?”

a moment passes.

yuuta takes her hand in his. ”i am,” he swallows down a gulp. willing his voice to sound even a little bit self-assured.

and she pulls him up, effortlessly, overflowing with a natural resilience. still grinning cheekily. encouraging him. ”you’re gonna go out there and do your best, right?”

”i — i am!”

another voice chimes in. ”you’re gonna finish my essay for me this week, right?”

”i am!”

…

”wait —”

maki hits panda over the head with a soft thwack. a wince leaves his lips, and inumaki giggles, quieting down when maki sends him a warning glance.

”don’t throw him off his game,” she huffs. then she turns to yuuta once more. ”let’s go find them. alright, loverboy?”

a smile blooms on his lips. grateful, to be surrounded by such sunny people. ones that make it a little easier to smile each day. ”right.”

— but before either of them can take a step forward, a warm voice spills into the open air.

”um, yuuta?”

the boy in question stops in his tracks. he feels his eyes widen, spinning on his heels, hair ruffled by the breeze — turning to look at the source of the sound. 

it’s you.

you, with your sunkissed smile, that inviting voice. that soothing, soothing presence. one that has his heartbeat picking up in speed, hands growing sweaty, throat running dry. one that makes him feel a little bit feverish. and you’re looking right at him, into his eyes.

”hey!” he sputters, blinking rapidly to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating. but you just keep smiling, answering his awkward greeting without skipping a beat.

”hi! sorry, could i just… talk to you, for a second?” 

he blinks. the world stops spinning.

(you… want to talk….

to him?)

attempting to find the words, any words, he opens his mouth — but nothing comes out. not a single syllable, no vowels, not even a sound. nothing at all.

he can only stare, star-struck.

it’s not until his friends push him forward that he’s snapped out of it; they surround him, on all sides, wearing matching grins. teasing and excited.

”don’t worry, he’s all yours!”

”have fun, you two!”

”salmon!”

— then they’re off. 

yuuta tries to reach for their sleeves, in a weak attempt to keep them from leaving, but they’re gone before he can even blink. leaving him all alone, with someone he can’t talk to without experiencing intense symptoms of heart failure. 

he stumbles for something to say, again, but thankfully you beat him to it.

”sorry for interrupting you guys,” you say, voice set to a low tilt. apologetic. and his throat unclogs, a little.

”ah, no, it’s fine!” he smiles, maybe a little too giddy. wanting so badly to reassure you, to put you at ease. ”i’m happy to speak to you!”

…

(oh god oh no why did i say that —)

your smile widens, blooming like a flower in the sunlight. unfurling in front of his very eyes. ”me too!” you say, excitedly. ”i feel like you and i have been talking more, recently… it’s nice.”

eyes crinkling, you wringle your hands together, and look at him fondly. yuuta’s surprised he manages to keep his knees from buckling.

”i think so too!” he grins, ears pink and dimples showing. 

both of you smile. the breeze curls around your hair, illuminating the colour of your eyes. yuuta stops breathing, for a moment — just taking it all in.

”so — anyway…” you murmur, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. ”um… haha. sorry, i’m — a little nervous…”

yuuta blinks.

(he knows where this is going. all the signs are there, right in front of him; the flush of your cheeks, the nervous tapping of your fingers, the hesitance in your eyes. he’s read enough shoujo manga — he knows what this means.)

and he almost can’t believe it.

all he can do is keep smiling, hoping it’ll give you even a fraction of the peace that your smile brings him. ”don’t be,” he says, voice soothing. scratching the back of his head. ”whatever it is, i’ll — um. i’ll listen, so…”

he clears his throat. swallowing thickly.

”just — whenever you're ready.”

there’s no mistaking it. your ears are painted pink, and you’re gnawing at your bottom lip. fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his gaze, with a soft inhale, clear air filling your lungs. he wonders if your throat feels as dry as his, if your heart is beating even half as fast.

”um… okay, so…” you mumble, eyes unable to stay in one place for too long. a soft bout of laughter escapes you, and he can tell you’re trying to stave off your own nervosity; it sends a pang of ache running through his chest.

he wants to tell you that there’s no need to be nervous. that he’d listen to anything you have say, absolutely anything, no matter what it is.

he wants to tell you that he’d never let you down, that he’d have to be foolish to even think the thought.

he wants to tell you that he’ll hear you out. whenever, wherever. for as long as you need.

”do you, um…”

a gulp. your eyes find his, and there’s a soft kind of decisiveness in them. 

here it comes, he thinks. here it comes.

yuuta feels the heat on his cheeks, ears burning. and he hears the patter of his heartbeat, loud and heavy, echoing in his muddled mind like a mantra. but his chest feels light; fluttery, butterflies dancing around uncontrollably. 

clutching the ring around his neck, subconsciously, he looks you in the eye.

they’re bright, glimmering like little galaxies — or maybe more like summer skies. painted over with a warm hue, something nostalgic and sweet, so pretty it hurts. if he strains his eyes enough, he’s almost sure he can see the swirling of fluffy clouds in the depths of your irises.

a smile rests on your lips. it's almost overwhelmingly sweet, albeit a little shy, as you part your pretty lips. voice soaked in nervosity, tingly and shaky, and something he knows to be puppy love.

a shallow, dry intake of breath. yuuta braces himself.

here it comes. 

your voice spills out into the air, dripping with honey and magnolias. he thinks to himself that he’d like to hear the melodic lilt of it every single day; before going to bed, right after waking up. walking to campus together, heading back to the dorms when the sky gets dark.

just the sound alone would be enough.

subconsciously, he tugs on the strap of his backpack. thinking of the pencil inside it. his lucky charm, along with the ring around his neck — ordinary objects, both too precious for words.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!

you can keep it, if you want.)

here it comes, yuuta thinks.

a new beginning.

he strains his ears, and purses his lips, and watches your lips move as you finally ask —

”do you have maki’s number?”

(somewhere in the distance, from an inconspicuous bush, the muffled screams of three students and one professor resounds.)

[bogleech]

For me the most disappointing thing about Palworld is the designs being so boring and bland that you'll never have cause to review them. We deserve better from a creature collecting game, especially one making this much money!

Yeah here's the most opinion I can possibly muster on any of them:

DUMUD: it's a big fat shark-like mudskipper and that's a good concept, it just doesn't really have the charm of any Pokemon it shares anything in common with.

WUMPO: resembles the fur-wearing "werewolf" pokemon that got cut from the first or second generation, crossed with Tangrowth. One of the more okay designs because those are two good pokemon.

SIBELYX: this is supposed to be their Gardevoir I guess and I think it's an owl? Or is it a moth? Well it ends up one of the slightly cooler looking ones a little less obviously derivative of specific pokemon. Maybe they were also going for a Dimitrescue knockoff with the hat

CAWGNITO: an alright one because plague doctors just generally look cool. However the simple formula of plague doctor + actual bird would have been far too obvious and underwhelming as a Pokemon. There's no novelty or twist to this.

HANGYU: this is the one that's a ghostly noose canonically used to execute people. It's a funny little send-up of the darker pokemon pokedex entries, though the design is uninspired compared to object-based creatures in Pokemon, Digimon or any other monster franchise I can think of.

LOVANDER: this is one that fucks people, and they possibly borrowed the topography of Salazzle's official model. I want to think they did intend it to be freaky and unwholesome looking with the rubbery goblin hands, but I suspect they intended something actually sexy by furry monsterfucker standards and just weren't good at it. Yes I know that likely does not stop people from being into it anyway.

TEAFANT: I was going to say this is the only pal that looks better than its closest equivalent Pokemon, because they would be Cufant, and I gave Cufant a pretty negative review back in the day.

......But actually, now I kind of like Cufant. A lot, come to think of it! Teafant is cute and competent in the most paint-by-numbers possible way. It's what almost anyone would draw in ten seconds if asked to make a cute marketable teacup elephant pokemon. Cufant is an awkward, messy design but it is comparatively cute in a goofy, dorky way that's rare among the Pals, and more importantly, it is unique. I don't think they used AI to generate any Palworld models (the tech isn't there yet) but I can see why people assume they used AI just to get the initial ideas, because it's very easy to find people who have more a more creative eye for character design. I'd say even if not ESPECIALLY people with zero experience in art would have made the Pals look more interesting.

[ms-demeanor]

got a question I was hoping you could answer!

why do all apps have to go through an app store? why doesn't anywhere have their app downloadable from the internet or something?

was wondering this because lots of issues with apps seem to stem from having to comply with app store guidelines and whatnot. So why not avoid that problem and make the app available off the appstore? And if part of it is because they're easier to find in the appstore, why not do both? why not also offer the download on a website or something?

there's gotta be some reason why there's afaik no one who offers a download for their app without the appstore right?

There are absolutely other ways to get apps, and the one that springs immediately to mind is the F-Droid App Repository.

Sideloading is the process of loading an app that doesn't come from your phone's OS-approved app store. It's really easy on Android (basically just a couple of clicks) but requires jailbreaking on an iphone.

The reason more USERS don't sideload apps is risk: app stores put apps through at least nominal security checks to ensure that they aren't hosting malware. If you get an app from the app store that is malware, you can report it and it will get taken down, but nobody is forcing some random developer who developed his own app to remove it from his site if it installs malware on your phone unless you get law enforcement involved.

The reason more developers don't go outside of the app store or don't WANT to go outside of the app store is money. The number of users who are going to sideload apps is *tiny* compared to the number of users who will go through the app store; that makes a HUGE difference in terms of income, so most developers try to keep it app-store friendly. Like, if tumblr were to say "fuck the app store" and just release their own app that you could download from the sidebar a few things would happen:

Downloads would drop to a fraction of their prior numbers instantly

iOS users would largely be locked out of using tumblr unless they fuck with their phones in a way that violates Apple's TOS and could get them booted out of their iOS ecosystem if they piss off the wrong people.

Ad revenue would collapse because not a lot of advertisers want to work with companies that are app-store unfriendly

They'd be kicked off of the main app marketplaces

So most people who develop apps don't want to put the time and effort and money into developing an app that people might not pay for that then also can't carry ads.

Which leads into another issue: the kind of people who generally make and use sideloaded app aren't the kind of people who generally like profit-driven models. Indie apps are often slow to update and have minimal support because you're usually dealing with a tiny team of creators with a userbase of people who can almost certainly name ten flavors of Linux and are thus expected to troubleshoot and solve their own problems.

If this is the kind of thing you want to try, have at it. I'd recommend sticking to apps from the F-Droid Repository linked up above and being judicious about what you install. If you're using apple and would have to jailbreak your phone to get a non-approved app on it, I'd recommend switching to another type of phone.

(For the record, you also aren't limited to android or ios as the operating system of your phone; there are linux-based OSs out there and weird mutations of android and such - I am not really a phone person so I can't tell you much about them, but they are out there!)

[finisnihil]

Hello pookies let’s talk about Aventurine and Topaz

Penacony spoilers+Analysis ahead

Let’s start off the bat, I personally like Aventurine more than Topaz and the main reason is because Topaz willingly works for the IPC while Aventurine doesn’t. Some people have pointed out in other posts of mine that Topaz didn’t voluntarily join the IPC. Her planet was dying and the IPC bought it, she joined because it was required of her, but here’s the difference. She chooses to stay.

She emphasizes in her talking with Bronya and the Trailblazer than she doesn’t stay with the IPC just because she has to or because she needs a paycheck. She stays because she likes working for them.

Also, she sees what was done to her planet as a good thing. In her eyes, the IPC saved her planet, in her eyes it isn’t exploitation. She tries to force the same thing on Jarilo-VI to the point she attacks the Astral Express for trying to stop her after Bronya declined the contract. She felt entitled to Jarilo-VI and when she was told no she ignored it. To her, the IPC are the best. It’s no wonder either, as far as we know she hasn’t seen the truly ugly side of the IPC yet because the IPC need her. In her character stories other IPC constantly hype her up, she’s a prodigy, she makes the IPC more efficient. She raises the success rate from 63% to above 80%. Even in her early days we see her breaking rules and getting away with it because the IPC value her too much to lose her.

They don't even question her calculations. Adding to this, when Aventurine is first introduced, it's after she's punished for her actions on Jarilo-VI.

He gives a lot of context about Topaz's power in the IPC. She "dodged a bullet there", implying she theoretically should've got a stronger punishment than being demoted a rank and losing some bonuses she's mentioned she doesn't care about. He even mentions that somebody is "looking out for her". Topaz has backing. He also mentions Jarilo-VI was a high-risk low-reward situation and that her "kind heart" was a liability. Topaz has the room to take on such cases and exercise her "kind heart" because she isn't at risk of losing everything if she screws up. There's little consequences to her actions, there's powerful people protecting her, and the IPC need her. Topaz can leave at any time, she choses not to because she likes the IPC. You see this power dynamic in her character trailer.

A throne is strong imagery and she's surrounded by money, the real representation of power in the IPC.

So let's talk about Aventurine and why I think he's interesting and why I like him more than Topaz.

Let's start with his power dyanmic within the IPC, or more so, his lack of one.

Aventurine has a serial number on his neck and Dr Ratio specifically calls him a "thrall". The term thrall in this context seems to imply he's a captive of some sort of the IPC*, to them he's a product. We can feel his lack of power in the way people talk to him.

Sparkle speaks to him in a super derogratory way and belittles him by implying he had to humiliate himself to influence Sunday. Meanwhile Dr Ratio writes him off as ruining everything before he gets to really do anything.

He gets power by gambling for it. Power is fleeting and he can lose it easier than most.

At one point he talks about how much money he loses wasting ten minutes. Ten minutes is nothing for Topaz but to Aventurine it's lost money and if he's not making the IPC money he's useless and viable to be cast aside. He can't afford it because he has no power. Compared to Topaz, he can't leave. He has less room for screw ups.

Onto friendship.

When friendship comes up, he keeps the idea at a distance. He asks how friends benefit him. Sparkle says he treats friends like bargaining chips and when he's talking with Dr Ratio he says that "Friends are weapons of Avgins". To him, friends are used for or against you.

He doesn't have any real friends, he's always on his own. He has no backing. He can't trust anybody because he's in such a vulnerable state and everyone around him looks down on him because of his heritage. Dr Ratio even tells him he causes too much trouble to have freinds, likening him to a peacock with a jarring call.**

Finally I want to analyze this conversation between him and Topaz. When asking for her help, he calls her old friend, implying he's planning to use her. The thing about Aventurine is that compared to Topaz, he's more ruthless because he has to be, he doesn't have the wiggle room she does, even Black Swan notes this saying he'll go to extreme lengths to maintain an advantage. Right now, that's what he's doing because he's being thrown to Penacony as a sacrifice. For the reasons above he seems to be the most expendable Stoneheart. He notes Penacony is a lost cause and Topaz is shocked that the mission isn't given to a higher ranking Stoneheart. He eggs Topaz into being his project manager with the idea she'll recover what she lost on Jarilo-VI. What he's really doing is using her to shield himself. With her involvement the IPC will be less likely to cut their loses with him, because they need Topaz and if he puts his eggs in her basket to care for they're less likely to be left to break by the IPC. If things go wrong he takes the blame… unless he has Topaz to sofen the blow. He's gambling on her power in their dynamic.

*My personal theory as of 2.0 is that the Sigonians and Avgins had a war and the IPC backed the Avgins for a benefit of their victory, assuring it. Aventurine was a captive or some sort of "war prize" hence the serial number and Dr Ratio calling him a thrall. It also explains the negative view of Sigonians and the very favorable view of Avgins among other lore we've gotten about it. I may do a seperate post of this theory.

**Sparkle and Dr Ratio liken Aventurine to a peacock frequently. Male peacocks use their feathers to attract the attention of female peacocks. This matches Aventurine's very flamboyant and charismatic character and his place in the story.

Feel free to add discussion, have a great day, mwah!

[ceilidhtransing]

I'm extremely done with electionposting but I feel like there's one huge elephant in the room that's barely being talked about vis-à-vis the whole issue of non-voters. I see so many posts to the effect of “does the result really indicate that the people who didn't vote are bad, or that the Democrats simply failed to convince them to vote for Harris?” and I have to talk about that.

Obligatory clarifications because people are understandably very heated at the moment and I know people will jump to take this entire post the wrong way:

I know that the tens of millions of people who did actually vote for Trump are much, much more of a glaring active problem than the people who didn't vote at all.

I know that it is, overall, in most circumstances, bad to assert that a candidate is just “owed” your vote, rather than having to win your vote.

I know that Trump's base is unpersuadable and will vote for him whatever happens. I'm not talking about them; I'm talking about non-voters, particularly anyone who voted Democrat in the past but didn't show up this time.

I know that it's shitty that people should have to settle for a candidate they don't like very much because that's the only way to avoid a much greater evil. It's a rubbish situation to be in, but Harris and Trump were the only viable options presented at this election, and nothing changes that.

I know that some people abstained as a (extremely misguided and counterproductive) “protest” against the situation in Gaza. But if the numbers we're seeing are accurate, Harris lost 15 million voters compared to Biden, and I really can't see all of those being “protest-abstainers”. Some of them will be, but clearly a lot of people simply didn't show up, and if you reply with something like “well not doing a genocide would have helped them!” I will just assume you haven't read this. I'm not actually talking about the “protest-abstainers”, I'm talking about the passive non-voters.

I know that the Democrats are hardly, hardly perfect and that a lot of people do not trust them to deliver the kind of meaningful change that they need. Trust me, whatever criticisms of the Democrats you have, I know. They are tangential to the actual point of this post.

But it is properly mind-boggling to me that we have got to a point where we genuinely talk about people needing to be “convinced” to vote against a candidate so thoroughly, off-the-charts terrible as Trump, and as far as I'm concerned it speaks to the incredible job much of the media has done for the last I don't know how many years at continually normalising and sane-washing him, his ideas, his actions, and his speech.

If we were to teleport back to some time significantly before the Trump Era - before US politics got quite so wild, before it became in any way “normal” for a president to rack up an uncountable number of the kind of scandals that individually would have sunk any previous president but which are apparently just the way things are now - and comprehensively describe Trump to the average voter, and then say that he's in an election against a very standard middle-of-the-road don't-rock-the-boat Democrat, and ask “one of these is going to be the president; how are you voting?” the response is very likely to be “fuck me, the Democrat obviously! jesus christ just don't put that guy back in charge!”

Trump is such an appallingly bad candidate on literally every front that I can hardly believe the conversation focuses on whether Harris did enough to convince people to vote for her rather than the fact that Trump himself has spent most of the last decade doing what should be an incredible job at convincing people to vote for her.

And I know the general adage about “people need to be convinced to vote for a candidate, not just against another candidate!” but fucking hell, when one of the candidates is THAT GUY, it really should not take much at all to convince you to vote for whoever isn't him. Where's that meme about Any Statewide Election in North Carolina that has “Adolf Fucking Hitler” winning against “Bland Normiedem” 49% to 48%? Because that's what it feels like when people talk about voters just not being hyped enough by the Harris campaign to vote for her. “Yeah, I know Adolf Fucking Hitler is pretty terrible, but Bland Normiedem just hasn't done a good enough job at winning my vote, and really both sides are bad, you know?”

The thing is that all of the things people say about “you need to run a positive campaign, not just a negative one” and “you need to earn people's vote, not just take them for granted” and “you need to have a good reason to vote for you, not just that you're not the other guy” etc I totally, absolutely agree with - in a normal election with normal politics and normal candidates! None of what we're seeing with Trump is, or should be, normal! “You won't need to vote again” isn't normal, “dictator on day one” isn't normal, running with the intimate support of a bunch of christofascists who are open about their desire to turn America into an authoritarian hellscape isn't normal, and it has been utterly maddening to see people treat this as just another standard uninspiring election and not a code red “for the love of god stop this guy” situation! To use that reference again, it is an absurdity to frame things in terms of Bland Normiedem needing to run a great campaign to convince people to vote for him when his opponent is Adolf Fucking Hitler!

There are many questions to be asked about this election, but re: people not showing up to vote for Harris, a major one that needs to be asked far more often is “how the fuck did Trump and his whole campaign become so normalised to voters that “whether you're persuaded enough by Harris's campaign” is even a serious question? how is Trump Being Trump not persuasive enough for most people?” And this post is long already, but the media has a lot to answer for regarding how they have consistently sane-washed what he's said, normalised his positions, hell, normalised the fact that he's even running in the first place given his many crimes and the way he responded to losing the last election. Trump's enormous base is absolutely the most pressing problem, but this time around that base has been directly enabled to trample everyone else by millions and millions of people apparently just not being “motivated enough” to stop him. That is also a problem.

In no sane circumstances should Trump be a candidate that you have to be extensively, enthusiastically persuaded to keep out of office, and yet here we are, talking about how well or badly Harris convinced people to vote for her when literally everything about Trump ought to have been doing a good enough job of that anyway. How the fuck did any of this become normal? How the fuck did we reach a point where anyone - especially previous Democrat voters - is looking at these two candidates and going “eh, I'll just sit this one out, Harris hasn't done enough to earn my vote”?

(And in case I haven't been sufficiently clear, please don't reply to this with any variation of “she should have done xyz!” or “maybe if she hadn't done xyz!” This is not about debating her strategies or the merits of her campaign. A different discussion is the place for that. My point is that Trump is so out-of-this-galaxy leagues worse than her in every conceivable way that she shouldn't have had to “run a brilliant campaign” in order to sweep votes from the tens of millions of Americans who aren't Trump's base. Anyone like her running against Trump should have won in a fucking landslide and the fact that she didn't is not just an indictment of “a campaign that didn't do enough to persuade people” but also an indictment of the electorate and of the media's continual normalisation of Trump. To place blame entirely on “well she didn't run a good enough campaign” - as if in a race between Bland Normiedem and Adolf Fucking Hitler the whole focus should be on the merits or demerits of Bland Normiedem's campaign rather than the fact that Adolf Fucking Hitler is Adolf Fucking Hitler - is to miss an enormous part of the picture and also to reinforce the normalisation of Trump as just any other standard reasonable candidate. It's to buy into the whole deeply false “both sides” thing that the media loves to do, where we go “well Candidate A here is a near-octogenarian quasi-fascist wannabe dictator and convicted felon running on a platform infused with Christian nationalism and hardcore authoritarianism, who refuses to accept he lost the last election and essentially tried to hold onto power by force, and who has spent the last four years in countless trials regarding all the insane crimes he got up to both during and outwith his presidency, but on the other side, how watertight really are Candidate B's policies?” and pretend the two candidates are even remotely equivalent or comparable, and this very approach is a huge part of the problem.)

[wihellib]

Lesser Key Shop & Nightmare Pancake Shop

With the update for Belphie Selfie, PrettyBusy took away the old Pancake Shop that they had added back in temporarily because of backlash and added in a Lesser Key Shop.

This is going to be a long post... again.

Lesser Key Shop By-The-Numbers

To start, we will look at some numbers to see how worthwhile this new shop is compared to what we already have.

The Guilty Gem Exchange House has 3 red keys for 198 red gems (66 gems per key), and 30 keys for 1,980 gems (66 gems per key).

The new Lesser Key Shop has 1 key for 66 gems with 30 available purchases, 3 keys for 158 gems (~52 gems per key) with 10 purchases, 30 keys for 1,386 gems (~46 gems per key) with 1 purchase, and 150 keys for 4,950 gems (33 gems per key) with 1 purchase. I assume that the purchases reset at the start of each month, but I don't know for sure.

The Secret Shop, which shows up about once a month, has 1 key for 44 gems with unlimited purchases.

The 150 keys in the Lesser Key Shop is the best deal, however, that is a lot of gems to spend at one time. Most people won't want to do that. The next best deal is still the Secret Shop keys. So, if you only want to purchase between 1 - 149 red keys, then wait for the Secret Shop to show up.

Purchasable Red Keys

Now, I'm going to talk about the packs of red keys that you can buy with real money. If my numbers are not the same as yours, it's due to a difference in currency, but the idea of what I'm talking about will be the same.

If you really need red keys and you're willing to spend money, then it is a better deal to spend the money in the Lesser Key Shop rather than buy gems in the Guilty Gem Exchange and use those to purchase the red keys. It's $60 for a ten-pull in the Lesser Key Shop (note that you can only do this once a month). If you have no red gems, then to get enough gems to purchase 30 red keys from the Secret Shop you'd have to purchase the $120 blue gem pack and you'd have 680 gems remaining after buying the keys. If you had 430 red gems already then you could buy the $60 blue gems pack. But, overall, it is better to buy the red keys directly from the Lesser Key Shop.

WHB Compared to Other Gachas

Next, I want to look at the value of money that you're getting in comparison to some other gachas.

In WHB, it's $20 for 1/3 of a ten-pull, and there's no more expensive packs that you can buy to improve this. In Obey Me, it's $11.45 for 1/3 of a ten-pull, which can improve if you buy the more expensive packs. Also, Obey Me has a lot of good flash deals that WHB doesn't have. In FGO, it's $9.44 for 1/3 of a ten pull, which can improve if you buy the more expensive packs. In Genshin Impact, it's $10.89 for 1/3 of a ten-pull, which can improve if you buy the more expensive packs. Also, in Genshin, if you're fine with logging in consecutively for 30 days, then you can buy the Welkin Moon for $7 and get 18.75 pulls from it, which is a great deal.

Clearly, WHB is by far the worst value-wise. WHB should be $10 for 1/3 of a ten pull. The $20 is just way too expensive. WHB should also have more expensive packs that have a better key-to-dollar ratio.

Now, for the one-time purchase of 10 keys for $5, that's okay. So, if you're really in need of 10 red keys and have $5 lying around, then go for it.

Needless to say, the Lesser Key Shop is not comparable to the old pancake shop red keys in any way, shape, or form. And I still really want them to give us back the pancake shop red keys, even if they decide to increase the number of pancakes needed.

Nightmare Pancake Shop

Despite the backlash, they did not change a single thing about the Nightmare Pancake Shop. The items in the shop are the same, the costs are the same, the number of nightmare pancakes you get for selling S and L characters are the same, everything is the same. I am not happy to say the least. But I already said what I wanted to say in the following linked post, so I won't repeat myself here.

https://www.tumblr.com/wihellib/755045038514421760/pancake-shop-part-2

Finale

The Lesser Key Shop is a poor substitute for the 30 red keys that we could get from the old pancake shop. PrettyBusy has not done anything to improve the new pancake shop and has not responded to criticism regarding the pancake shop in any way. Not even to just say, 'Hey, we're working on it.' I am going to be writing another professional and respectful email to them, explaining my concerns, and hope that others that feel like me do the same.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Cyd Charisse (The Bandwagon, Brigadoon, Singin’ in the Rain)—LEGS LEGS LEGS I would sell my soul for the legs of Cyd Charisse - she oozed style and glamour and sex appeal!! And she could DANCE! She was dancing next to the greats - Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire but they are never who you're looking at because why would you when you can look at her. I will only sit through too long ballet breaks for her. If there was any woman who you could call sex on legs it was her. These dances are everything to meeee (she comes in at the minute mark) and this dance too of course is iconic. In the words of Fred Astaire 'When you've danced with Cyd Charisse you stay danced with'

Beata Tyszkiewicz (The Doll)—no propaganda submitted

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Beata:

Cyd:

Photos do not do Cyd Charisse justice, unfortunately, because she is at her hottest while dancing, which she was exquisitely good at. Just go watch her first number in Singin' in the Rain, in that green dress; nothing I could say here will be more convincing that that.

She had amazing legs, and she knew how to use them! You probably know her best from the dream sequence in Singin' In The Rain. She was such a stunning dancer, and all her dance scenes are hard to look away from.

Dancing in the Dark clip:

She's an amazing dancer and my favorite from the period. Here's her and Fred Astaire in the Band Wagon:

One of the most talented female dancers in Hollywood history, but what sets her apart from other competitors for that title is that she...umm...well let's be blunt, she was the dancer who put sex into it. The one who said "Hey, you know that A+ leg tone that naturally develops from doing this for a living? Why don't I let people see that? Like at every opportunity?" She reportedly insured her legs for five million dollars after hitting it big, which just goes to show that fame makes you crazy. It should have been ten million.

I just like a woman who's there to be really incredibly good at dancing.

Arguably the Best female dancer of her time, she supposedly insured her legs for $5 million dollars. Stole the show whenever she had a dance number, even if she went uncredited. Musicals started to go out of fashion so unfortunately she didn't have as many big roles as she should have, but those she did are unforgettable. The Broadway Melody number in Singin' in the Rain - the green dress!

She could pirouette in pointes or tear it up in taps. Fred Astaire called her "beautiful dynamite" and wrote, "That Cyd! When you've danced with her you stay danced with." Gene Kelly partnered with her three times. Her legs were (reportedly) insured for $5 million in 1952 ($57.8 million in 2024 dollars)! Everyone in this poll will be iconic, but for raw physical grace, Cyd is up there with the best.

Legs for days, beautiful dancer in the most iconic scenes of Singin in the Rain. She's glorious. As some guys sung to her in It's Always fair weather, 'baby you knock me out!'

Incredibly, Cyd Charisse only started learning to dance as a rehab exercise to strengthen her body after a childhood bout of polio. She was in high demand as a dance partner, Fred Astaire called her beautiful dynamite and said "When you've danced with her, you stayed danced with". She was one of a few leading ladies to dance with both Astaire and Kelly, declaring them both delicious. Kelly apparently was stronger, while Astaire was more coordinated. She also said her husband would always know who she had been dancing with because Kelly left her bruised, while Astaire didn't leave a mark. She's better known for her dance numbers today, but she was a leading lady in her time! Her Scottish accent in Brigadoon leaves a lot to be desired, but compared to the other actors in the movie, it's almost good. She appeared in The Harvey Girls alongside Judy Garland and Angela Lansbury in her first speaking role, but she really burst onto the scene with Singin' in the Rain and her infamous Broadway Melody Ballet number with Gene Kelly (no one could handle a length of fabric like Cyd Charisse). She was brought in because Debbie Reynolds wasn't really a dancer and Kelly was notoriously a stickler about his Vision. After that she starred opposite Astaire in The Band Wagon, which was a bit of a flop but created some enduringly incredible dance numbers. She went on to star in a number of MGM movies, and was one of the last of the Studio era stars to remain on contract. Since we've got up to 1970, I'm including her opening routine in The Silencers (1966) to show just how long she was making a splash - she's into her 40s here and still a siren:

and of course, the iconic Broadway Melody Ballet -

[phoenixyfriend]

A lot has been happening today that rep calls could affect. UN vetoes, KOSA, Julian Assange, UNRWA's funding crisis and Israel's demands that it be completely dismantled, the large number of bills we just learned are on the docket for the coming week, and even the good news that is recent successes by the BDS movement.

And like... I care about this stuff. I want to talk about it. But it takes an emotional and mental toll to do it, and it takes time, and... there are two reasons to write up reference, update, information posts:

Compensation. I'm not a journalist, but if I were, I would in theory be getting paid for the information I collect and share to my audience. However, I am not, and am doing this for free. I have gotten maybe $5 in donations since I started this project, and while I recognize that this is probably because people are (quite rightly) donating instead to Palestinian charities or local campaigns or something, it's a basic fact that I am not actually being compensated for this work.

Promoting change and activism. This is in fact my main goal: to have a positive impact on current events by giving people a guide on the news and politics because there's so much happening that's hard to keep track of, and if I'm already doom-listening to half a dozen political podcasts, I might as well save other people the trouble, right?

The thing is, like... most of the reblogs on my guidelines and helpful posts are from me, to me. I am the one reblogging. I am desperately trying to get these things to circulate so I can make a difference, but... no dice. Some of the posts are admittedly pretty long (my 'how to call your reps, here's some verbiage' post is 3.4k words), and I can imagine some people are saving it for later, and then maybe forget, or they don't want to share something controversial, and like... I do get that. I do.

But it does mean the posts aren't circulating, and thus they're having less of an impact, and I can't help but feel like there are other things I could be doing to help that would be more effective. More bang for my buck, except it's my time and effort instead of my money. Like, maybe it would have more an effect if I hunted down a wider variety of elected officials I could bother instead of instructing other people on how to bother theirs? Maybe going to protests (which would be a huge commitment due to distance) would be more effective than trying to help ensure that the effectiveness of "I actually have a vote and you are losing it" of calls has the weight of numbers behind it.

Especially since I did try to blaze it, and tumblr mods rejected the post. I don't know why. It's not against ToS, since none of it was disinformation or election interference, which is the only reason given on the FAQ for why things might not be approved for blazing, but who knows.

Maybe tumblr just decided the possible blowback on them for blazing a pro-ceasefire post would be too much.

I don't know. I just... it's just really disheartening to try to help and it gets stymied because, as much effort as it might be, it doesn't reach more than a (comparatively) tiny audience, especially when my relatively low-effort polls and shitposts get easily ten times as many notes with way less energy put in.

EDIT: This is not a post that I need to have reblogged. this is just me bitching. This a vent post. What I am asking people to reblog is my activism posts that I spend hours on to try and help nudge things in a better direction. Please reblog THOSE. This one doesn't need reblogging unless you have an actual comment. Reblogging this post just to reblog, with neither useful comment nor encouragement, is not helping me with my issue of 'not paid, not making an impact' or helping with any important causes.

[freya-fallen]

Little Dove 2/?

Check part 1 for story triggers, though none really apply here.

Part 3

You frown at the text. It’s from your bother’s number, but it’s clearly not him. You don’t know if you should respond or wait to talk to Keigo about it. But who knows when that will be.

>Where should I drop this phone off?

>Your the only contact outside the HPSC

>hello?

You didn’t realize that. Surely, Keigo had other people— sidekicks or… then again, he had multiple phones. He said it was easier that way; he could ignore calls from one phone, but keep the other on in case of emergencies.

You should probably respond, right?

<Who is this?>

>I asked you first

You scowl. This is getting you nowhere. There must be some question you can ask that this person will answer. 

<Are you a hero? What agency are you with?> 

>I’m not with an agency. I’m more underground

Whoever this is must be a contact. Keigo does all kinds of work for the commission, to include intel gathering. 

>You bird brain’s gf?

<Ew no lol>

It’s such an automatic response that you type it out before you can help yourself.

>You gotta be a little sister then

“Shit.” No one outside the HPSC is supposed to know about you. You stare down at the screen in your hands, your heart pounding as your mind rushes to find an excuse.

>Don’t worry I won’t tell

<Hero families get threatened a lot> 

>I understand completely

>I still gotta know where to drop off this phone tho

You’re not dumb enough to invite this stranger to your home, not that they’d get through the door without being vetted.

That begs the question of what you can do. You can meet them somewhere, maybe at a cafe or something, a public place. You roll your lip between your teeth as you consider. That might be the best option.

<Do you know XYZ? The cafe?>

A minute passes. You approach the black car awaiting you outside the school and hesitate to open the door.

>sure

You release the breath you weren’t aware you were holding and open the door, climbing inside. 

<Meet me there in ten?>

>you got it dove

“We need to make a stop before home,” you tell the driver. “It’s not too far, so I can probably walk from there.”

XYZ is a small cafe only three blocks from home. You’ve been allowed to walk there on your own a few times, usually on weekends where you decide you want a sweet pastry. The driver sets up and you pull outside the cafe only a few minutes later. Nervous hands waffle your phone as you find a seat and cross your legs under the table. You’ve never met another hero, let alone one who works with your brother. Something tells you itt’s a guy and you wonder what he’ll be like, if he’ll judge you for being a highschool girl, or for having such a weak quirk compared to your brother.

“You like coffee, little dove?” You didn’t even notice the person approach. His smoky voice makes you jump and you blink up at him with wide eyes.

He’s a little taller than Keigo, with black hair and the brightest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. They’re familiar, but strange above the black mask that covers the bottom of his face. Maybe if you could see his whole face you could put a name to him, but you’re lost at the moment.

“I’m not allowed to have coffee,” you admit awkwardly. 

His eyes crinkle at the corners in a hint of a smile. “I won’t tell if you won’t. C’mon, it’s a caramel latte.” He sets the steaming cup in front of you and slips into the other seat at the tiny round table.

You can’t see all of his hands from beneath the cuff of his jacket, which is buttoned up all the way to tickle at the bottom of the mask. His fingers are long and pale. There are half-moon scars beneath his eyes, though the mask covers a bit of that, too. And his ears are similarly trextured and lined with silver piercings.

“Thank you.” You wrap your hands around the mug and bring the steaming cup to your lips. It’s sweet with just a hint of coffee bitterness beneath. You like it. It must show on your face, because the stranger chuckles.

He leans against one fist. “I don’t know what I expected, but not anyone as cute as you.”

One of your wings flutters at the compliment and your cheeks burn. You hope he didn’t notice, but something tells you he sees everything. “You have Kei— Hawks’ phone?”

He pulls out the red-cased cell and taps it gentle on the table. “I could just leave it as his agency or something, but when I saw your contact, I was intrigued. Seriously, why isn’t he sharing you with the world? He should be taking you to galas and shit.”

“He’s more concerned with my safety.” Your face is so hot you’re sure he can feel it from across the table. No one talks to you like this. At school, you’re so shy that no boy has ever confessed to you. The adults in your life are typically all business. Keigo calls you pretty and says you’re perfect, but he’s family. 

He nods. “Your boyfriend probably shows you off though, right?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You almost choke on the words. Keigo has told you it isn’t safe to date either, not until you’re a little older. Once you have your own place, it’ll be different.

“No way. A cutie like you? Have you ever been on a date?” You shake your head. “So you don’t have a boyfriend and Hawks never takes you out.” He sighs and his eyes bore into you as he seems to consider something. “How about I take you out some time?”

“What? You? Really?” You’re lost for words.

“Sure. Why not?”

You gape at him. “But you’re a hero. And I—I’m…” 

One of his hands crosses the table to lay over yours. You’d expect it to be cold given how pale he is, but it’s warm, almost hot. “It’s not like I’m famous. Your brother and I mostly just pass intel.”

“I’m not really allowed…” You shrug. The weight of his hand is nice on yours and he gives it a little squeeze.

“So don’t tell. It’ll be our little secret, like the coffee.”

You smile brightly. “Okay.”

“I’ll text you, pretty bird. Enjoy your coffee.” He stands and you suddenly realize something.

“Wait! What’s your name?”

He glances back at you and says, “Call me Dabi.”

want to be added to the taglist? lemme know

[lord-squiggletits]

Honestly another one of those worldbuilding things unique to an alien robot race is I wonder how Cybertronians' long, nearly immortal (at least in the context of organic lifespans) lives would affect their views on punitive versus restorative justice?

Ignoring the inconsistencies for a moment (and the fact that this lore is almost never acknowledged), in IDW1 it's written that Cybertronians can live basically as long as their sparks keep burning PLUS it's apparently so hard to kill a Cybertronian for good that suicidal people have to go to specialized euthanasia clinics to be thoroughly executed. (This also helps explain how a war lasted 4 million years and didn't make them as a species go extinct.) So given their near immortality, it does kinda bring to mind some questions like

Is imprisoning someone for a certain number of years even a meaningful punishment for a species with life spans in the millions of years? Does it just mean that average prison sentences are somewhere in the tens or hundreds of thousands of years? In other words, do Cybertronians just do "human prison sentences, but to a Cybertronian scale" or would they even view a time based imprisonment/other punishment as meaningful at all?

Does the fact that Cybertronians are so hard to kill affect their views towards the death penalty? As an example, do they view their near immortality as something that would be cruel to end via execution because it deprives someone of possibly millions of years to reform? Or is the death penalty strongly supported BECAUSE their immortality makes them see ending someone's life as a fitting punishment for crimes?

What about how often crimes like murder happen? If it's really hard for Cybertronians to kill each other/themselves, then a lot of crimes would end merely as assaults and not murders, aka the people involved would all survive, aka restorative justice might be more necessary in this society when "coexisting with that guy who's attempted to kill you at least once" is a common scenario to have happen. And even if there is punitive justice, well, the guy just goes to prison for a few thousand years and comes out virtually unchanged bc he and you and everyone are basically immortal.

I know "the writers are human" and all, but sometimes it feels like worldbuilding around Cybertronian age ranges is really underutilized. Like, in pretty much every series except maybe IDW2 Cybertronians don't seem to differ on their views of time/lifespans compared to humans. Like the fact that the plots of many shows/comics (at least in certain series/seasons) take place in the space of weeks, months, or maybe a couple years is rarely commented on by these beings who live for millions of years, and it doesn't seem to affect their society much. Not even with a Tolkien ent-esque style of moving very slowly and pondering things deeply before moving. If anything Cybertronians tend to be very...reckless? Prone to fickleness of the heart and mind?

[oh-stars]

Tally Marks

Assumption

a Stobin Month 2024 prompt | 851 words | CW: N/A | Rating: G

--

Eddie waits at the edge of the Rom-Com aisle as Steve finishes ringing up Mrs. Jenkins. 

“These are due next Friday,” Steve reminds her as he slides over the tapes, “so you’ll have to come back and see me.” 

Mrs. Jenkins takes the tapes and smiles, looking a little flustered as she bats her eyes at him. She’s old enough to be Steve’s great grandmother, but it’s kind of sweet his boyfriend has this power over people. He should probably hate Steve’s instinctive need to flirt with the customers (and everyone else he meets) but he knows Steve doesn’t know any different. To him, he’s just being polite and working his charm (snaps and all) to make someone’s day, even though everyone else can clearly see he’s being a flirt. 

Eddie’s fine with it. For the most part. 

Robin pushes her cart behind the counter and walks around to the computer, pushing Steve out the way. “Are you setting up a hot date with Mrs. Jenkins in our place of work, Steven?” 

Steve shrugs, tossing Mrs. Jenkins a wink. “What can I say? I can’t help myself around beautiful women, you know that.” 

Mrs. Jenkins waves him off. “You’re too much, Steve,” she says, cheeks rosy. 

“Let me help you to your car,” Steve says as he quickly rounds the counter to take her arm in his. “A pretty lady like you shouldn’t have to open the doors for herself.” 

“Robin, dear,” Mrs. Jenkins says as she and Steve start to take small steps toward the door. “You keep an eye on this one. He’s a keeper and you’re mighty lucky to call him yours.” 

Steve’s eyes find Eddie’s, lips pressed together in a smirk. “Now who’s being too much?” 

Mrs. Jenkins laughs and together, they walk to the door, where Steve holds it open for her. 

As the door shuts behind them, Eddie steps out from the aisle to watch Steve help her into her car and make sure she’s settled. “Does he do that a lot?” he asks.

Robin’s busy pulling something out from under the counter. “Flirt? Eddie, you’ve met him–” 

“No, no,” Eddie says as he takes his rightful place against the counter. “The whole walking her to the car song and dance.” 

“Only with our more senior customers,” Robin says as she uncaps a marker, a whiteboard now lying on the counter in front of her. “And the ones who give him candy for his trouble.” 

She’s marking a tally among a long line of them across the top of the board when Steve walks back in. 

“Butterscotch?” he asks, offering the handful of them he’s holding. Something clinks against his teeth – Eddie tracks the movement to see Steve playing with one already in his mouth. This man has no right making hard candies attractive at ten o’clock in the morning. 

Eddie plucks one out of his hand as Steve sets the rest against the computer’s base. “What’s with the tallies?” 

Steve peers over the counter to see Robin’s board, which she is counting the tallies repeatedly and comparing it to the two numbers at the bottom of the board. “Only two more days, right?” 

“Yup,” she says, “and so far, I'm the closest.” 

“That’s so not fair.” 

“How? There’s no skill in guessing a number–” 

“You’ve got a freaky third sense–”

“Sixth sense,” Eddie and Robin say at the same time. “

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not losing.”

Robin sucks in a breath through her teeth. “I hate to break it to you, Steve, but I think you are.” 

“What are you losing?” Eddie asks. 

Steve sighs and presses their shoulders together. “We have a bet going to see who can get closer to the number of people that assume Robbie and I are dating.” 

“And so far, I’m only three off and Steve’s five.” 

“That’s so close!” 

“But no cigar,” Robin says with a grin as she puts the board and marker away. 

“Two days is a lot of time,” Steve says. “I think I can get five people to assume we’re dating.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a snort, “like you two have any problems in that department.” 

Steve smirks. “And then,” he says with a little trill to his voice, “Rob will have to buy me lunch for once.” 

“In your dreams, Harrington.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the smile that threatens to break anyway. God, he loves these idiots. 

Robin turns to him, unimpressed. “Don’t you have a shift to get to?” 

He glances down at his watch and– “Shit. I’ll see you later.” Eddie chances a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek and tosses a wave over his shoulder as he heads out of Family Video, starting the mighty long journey of walking next door to the Arcade for his shift. What he wouldn’t give to have coworkers half as fun as the two of them, but alas, it’s just Eddie during the day shifts at the Arcade, so he’ll have to have his own fun. Or hope Steve comes to bother him on his break. Whichever comes first. 

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link