#round up the bigots

[meaningtotellyou]

a lot of you are just telling on yourselves

[sanguinewolves]

ugh. at least at my exfathers house i was left alone most of the time idk

[ultram0th]

@rainbowhypno

Request: Aaron bigoted over religious straight homophobic man harasses Brad for being gay. Which ends up being a big mistake. Brad turns Aaron into a proud gay musky slutty man and makes him his boyfriend. Aaron tries to fight the changes but loses the fight. Aaron remembers his old life, but he is reprogrammed to remembers his old life but he is reprogrammed to love the man he is now. A out and proud slutty gay man

★······★

Brad was heading to his dorm room after a rough day of seemingly endless lectures. All the slender guy wanted was to lie down and numb his aching head with some random cat videos.

Before he could reach his dorm, he was hit with the sickly stench of beer as a red solo cup was tossed at him. Drenched in beer, Brad huffed as he looked up and saw none other than Aaron.

The big, beefy jock was a pain in Brad's ass. For whatever reason, the jerk had made it his mission to make Brad's life as hard as possible. He was always there to pester him or even "playfully" shove him too hard, always muttering some sort of slur under his breath.

Aaron mock-frowned at the wet Brad. "Sorry 'bout that, Ma'am," he almost sneered. "I thought you looked thirsty, but I didn't have some fruity cocktail. Hope that works."

Normally, Brad would've just tried his best to shrug off Aaron's homophobic shenanigans. However, this time, he was prepared.

The skinny man reached into his pocket and grabbed a fistful of the pink, shimmery powder that he'd purchased from a mysterious woman the other night. Then, like a scene out of a cartoon, Brad tossed the powder into Aaron's face, smiling widely as the larger man winced as his face was covered in pink.

"What the hell was that?" the muscled jock sputtered as he wiped at his face.

"You'll find out soon enough," Brad lowly chuckled as he prepared himself to watch was was going to happen.

"What does that mean-- UUUhhhh!" Aaron's voice cut off as all of his muscles seemed to tense up. It looked as if the big jock was flexing, but soon his eyes widened when he felt the cool air on his torso. Looking downward, Aaron was surprised to see that his shirt was gone, exposing his plump pecs and washboard stomach. "Wha--?"

His voice trailed off when he witnessed his pecs shudder before it looked as if they were beginning to inflate. The jock's jaw dropped when he saw his pecs steadily grow larger and rounder. It wasn't an exaggerated growth, especially when the rest of his body followed suit. His muscles grew in size, taking his body from jock to bodybuilder in mere seconds. He paled when he saw his abs gradually grow fainter until they disappeared, his stomach rounding out to form a firm musclegut. His pants felt painfully tight as his butt swelled up, his cheeks going from perky to full on beach ball size. They grew so large that they began to push his jeans down, exposing the top of his hairy crack to the whole dormitory. As a final touch, Aaron's skin began to itch as hair started to sprout over his body, leaving him with copious amounts of body hair, with most of it concentrated on his pits and chest.

When he was done growing, Aaron had to have gained at least fifty pounds of muscle and had sprouted lots of hair. His large hands explored his larger, hairier body, blushing when he caught of a whiff of the pungent musk that seemed to radiate off of him in waves, almost as if he'd just finished an intense workout.

"Whoa," Aaron groaned in a much deeper voice, "what happened to me, Bro?" He flinched at the slowish quality to his voice and the way he'd said Bro unconsciously. "My head feels so slow."

Brad just smiled at his work, thinking that this new Aaron would be a much better guy than the old one. "You're the new you," he grinned.

"The new me...?" Aaron wondered aloud, freezing when his eyes landed on the smaller guy before him. His heart began to race in his beefier chest, and despite himself, he felt his cock start to stiffen. Worse was that he felt an odd emptiness forming deep within his ass, and he unconsciously flexed his huge bubblebutt with want.

No matter what his brain told him, Aaron was horrified to find that he viewed Brad as... cute!?

"Oh no," Aaron groaned, paling at this new realization, especially as new memories started to filter into his brain. He was still a college jock attending university on a football scholarship, but now he was also the muscled up and dim-witted boyfriend of Brad. He could see crystal clear mental images of himself wearing the skimpiest clothing and flexing for the small man on command, loving it whenever his huge ass was stuffed full with Brad's cock. And not only his, but their supposed relationship was flexible enough to where Brad was cool with Aaron getting fucked and sucking off every other guy on the football team. Apparently not a night went by when Aaron wasn't bouncing on cock after cock and showing off his large, hairy muscles to every guy on campus... but apparently he had a huge soft spot for Brad.

Brad basked in the warmth that this new Aaron brought him. He stepped forward and ran an admiring hand over Aaron's hairy pecs, loving the way the formerly straight jerk shuddered at the contact.

"Hey, Babe," he teased, "why don't we go to our dorm and I'll fuck that huge butt of yours?"

Aaron wanted to decline, to beg to be changed back, but instead he felt himself pick up the smaller man with one arm and flex his other one. "Hell yeah, Bro," he smiled dimly, "you're gonna fuck me so damn hard all night!"

[achromatophoric]

The entire gang is crowded around a table in the Quad, playing Never Have I Ever.

Xavier: *munching a cookie* Ugh. I’m still pretty rekt after last night’s banger. Can we hurry this up?

Yoko: I gotchu. Alright, bitches! You all heard Pablo Prickasso. For the last round we’re doing Speed Mode. Drop a finger for each time you’ve done the thing. Ajax, you start!

Ajax: Ummm, never have I ever, uh… given an apology at a funeral?

Bianca: Hey Sophocles, did you mean to say eulogy?

Ajax: Eulogy? *slow blinks* Oh duh! Yeah, my bad.

Bianca: *rolls eyes* Right. So next up is—

Wednesday: *gets up to leave*

Yoko: Whoa there, Stabbage Patch. Just where are you going? We’re still playing.

Wednesday: As much as I loathe to credit anything of merit to the gorgon, it is thanks to his ineptitude that I am finally free of this egregious waste of my time.

Divina: Hang on, you’re saying you’ve given like, ten eulogies?

Wednesday: Perish the thought. I have given ten apologies at the requisite event.

Bianca: Yeah, we’re gonna need deets. Explain.

Wednesday: 2016 was a bumper year for door-to-door bigots. And while I always appreciate a miserable funeral, it was also advantageous to ensure that each family knew precisely who was responsible.

Wednesday: Needless to say, any semblance of regret was every bit as insincere as the mysterious “Get Well” cookies Xavier received before dinner.

Everyone not Enid: 😦😦😑🤔😦😦😦

Enid: 🥰

Xavier: Wait, my cookies? What do you mean??

Wednesday: That’s for me to know and for you to blind out.

[hotvintagepoll]

Welcome to the HOT AND VINTAGE MOVIE STARS poll blog!

The Scrungly Little Guys (gender neutral) Contest will start THIS THURSDAY, September 26th. All contestants have now been processed and are ready to scrungle it up for your enjoyment. Reminder that this contest enshrines the weird, the off-putting, the comic, the character actor, and the strange cinema legend. If you need a reminder of what scrungle means, this picture is the golden standard.

All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds, old tournaments, the various shadow brackets, the Dracula Daily polls, and fun mini polls—can be found in the #hotvintagepoll tag. I am working on a more complete tagging system so people just here for the polls can navigate the blog more easily, but that's still in the works.

FAQs:

“Define scrungly?” For the purposes of this tournament, a contestant must noticeably present in some way as at least one of these: odd, bizarre, off-putting, disheveled, creeping, feral, small, filthy, silly, funny, kooky, comical, exhausted, or just plain strange. This contest presents a wide array of scrungly appeal, so not every contestant will hit every single one of these (but should, ideally, be a few of them). Scrungles were chosen based on how convincing their submitted propaganda was. This contest is all about oddball character actors, creeping henchmen, comic relief sidekicks—the side characters who never get the credit they deserve in proper rundowns of famous old movie actors.

"How do I decide who to vote for?" Vote on whoever seems scrungliest to you. Do not vote for someone based on hotness alone. The video propaganda, included under the cut, is highly encouraged for showcasing scrungles.

"Is this just like the hotness tournaments?" No. This contest is sillier.

"Hey! Some of these guys sucked and they shouldn't be here!" Yes, some of these guys sucked. I agree with you. For reasons I've gone into before, I don't exclude anyone from the contest for moral reasons, even if I personally think they were garbage. I do this because I cannot responsibly research and vet every competitor's background and legacy, and I'm not comfortable being the moral barometer for everyone, even in cases where I think it's really obvious. You are welcome to vote against people for moral reasons, but as mod I don’t post or boost negative propaganda about anyone.

If I see repetitive, trolling, or bigoted remarks in the comments, I will block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a competitor’s problematic aspects in the replies, that’s fine, but if I see bad-faith trolling, you will be blocked. I will also block if you start harassing other people voting on the polls. If you really hate that someone is winning, please post positive propaganda for their opponent instead.

I welcome additional propaganda for the scrungly little guys in reblogs or asks. I boost the best propaganda I see and try to boost equally for everyone. I don't accept propaganda that’s post-1970 or from non-film appearances. When sending your propaganda, please don't send me too many pics or videos at once (I max out at about four per ask.)

The views expressed in the propaganda are not my own. I don’t alter submissions beyond fixing obvious spelling mistakes. I do choose the poll pics, purposely trying to pick the silliest ones possible for this contest; if you think I could do even sillier, send me one I can use instead. If you think a contestant needs more propaganda, send me an ask with some and let me know if you'd like it added to the poll post if they make it to the next round.

“Who won the major hottie tournaments?” Eartha Kitt and Toshiro Mifune are the reigning hotness champions. They are both living it up by the pool in the sunshine, as far from the shadow realm as possible.

“The....the shadow realm?” All hotties who fail to continue in a hotness tournament are sent to the shadow realm, far below the crust of the earth where the sun never shines, a dark and dismal and gloomy place. (Boris Karloff keeps making everyone try his sherry-based guacamole.)

“Was [this famous person] submitted to any of the tournaments?” Try a tag search for them (ie, [#famous person name] in my search bar). If you still haven’t found your hottie, they either did not fit the criteria of working in movies from 1910-1970, weren't convincingly scrungly in their submission, or were not submitted at all.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I love hearing from you guys—just please check these basics first.

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the polls.

Tournament schedule post-hiatus:

Ongoing: Dracula Daily casting polls

Starting September 26th: Scrungly Little Guys contest (gender neutral)

After that: Ultimate Hottie Tournament (top brackets of the hot men & hot women competing together)

TBD: Hottest On-Screen Couples (Astaire and Rogers, Bogie and Bacall, etc)

TBD: Horror Hotties (Frankensteins, Draculas, Brides, etc.)

TBD: Dandy Detectives (Marples, Sherlocks, Nancy Drews, etc.)

fun mini polls that pit sets of characters from the same movie together, like the Philadelphia Story or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers ones (these can be found in the #minis tag)

[imfinereallyy]

celebrate softly

it my birthday today so here’s a lil gift from me to you (yes I know that’s not how this works haha) I made a bunch of little things is celebration, i probably won’t post these till later in the day so sorry if you get a bunch at once.

Steve wanted to like his birthday.

No, really, he truly did. He knew that birthdays were the one time of year you get to be a little selfish. The people you loved gathered around you to celebrate another year of you.

It was just that Steve was also used to disappointment.

Over the years, his birthday has consisted of either his parents parading him around at business dinners or the empty silence of a house that wasn’t ever a home.

His old friends were never around. It was a holiday weekend; he didn’t expect them to stick around. Even if they had, Steve was almost sure they would have made him throw a party, where they would have pressured him to get drunk and sleep with someone, and…

Yea, Steve wasn’t interested.

The one birthday he spent with Nancy had been okay. She had to go on a family trip, her parents attempt at getting their kids to cheer up over the loss of their friends, and she was going to leave the morning of his birthday. But at midnight of July 2nd, she had snuck into his window even though she could have walked through the front door. Nancy had brought him a cupcake, a small present, and a soft smile. Steve had wanted to kiss her, but he knew it wasn’t what she wanted then. He wanted to be respectful, so he held her hand instead.

Nancy hadn’t brought a candle, said she didn’t want to risk burning the Harrington Household down. Steve had laughed, saying that would be the best birthday present ever, but she hadn’t laughed back.

The present had been a book. Which wasn’t a terrible gift per se, Steve liked reading it was just he had difficulty doing it. He couldn’t focus long enough, or he would have to reread sentences over and over again.

It just didn’t feel worth the frustration.

But it was sweet of her to get him something, so he tried reading it. It took him months to finish it, even though it was small. It was boring, and Steve had found the main character whiny, and Steve had begun to wonder if Nancy was trying to tell him something.

Then the Upside Down round two had happened, Steve got his ass kicked again and learned that Catcher in the Rye was Jonathan’s favorite book.

Steve had thrown out the book amongst his bloody bandages.

Steve was only slightly hopeful to have a good birthday last year. He had good friends (sure, one was his ex, and the other were children, but he still counted them); Dustin would be home from camp, and even though he had work, he got to spend the whole day bothering Robin, which brought him a special kind of joy.

But then they were cracking Russian code, getting tortured, and watching Max’s Stepbrother die, all within the days of his birthday.

So Steve didn’t have high expectations this year. Sure, people knew it was his birthday, it was hard to hide when he was friends with the nosiest people, but most of them were spending the entire weekend staying with Max, and he would have been too if Max hadn’t thrown a remote at him when he suggested it.

So Steve had conceded to having a quiet but lonely July 2nd.

But then at 7 am there was a knock on his front door.

A knock was putting it lightly, there was pounding echoing in the Harrington Household.

When Steve walked up to the door, he was prepared to drive away some bigots who had been trying to “repent Hawkins.” They had been going around the richer neighborhoods recently, saying we needed to clean up the streets of the sinners and the queers.

Yea, they were knocking on the wrong door.

Steve hadn’t expect Eddie Munson, notorious night owl, to be crowding his doorway at 7 am.

“Harrington, have I ever told you how absolutely ugly your house is? Like for how wealthy your parents are, they chose an absolute nightmare of a layout! It makes no sense.” Eddie budged his way past Steve with his arms full of bags.

“I’ve been telling him that for a year, Eddie, and every time he just shrugs!” Steve turned to find Robin bullying her way through him as well. She had a handful of videos in her hands.

“Sure, come in, I guess,” Steve mumbled. He shut the door and turned toward his intruders. “Not that I don’t love a surprise appearance at—“ Steve checked his watch “—7:03 am, but is there a reason why you are awake before the birds are even chirping?”

Eddie snorted and just gave him a look instead of answering. Robin shook her head, “What doofus hear is trying to convey with a noise, Jesus Eds, I know you’re not a morning, but words please, is that we are obviously here for your birthday. You, Steven Alison Harrington—“

“Not my middle name.”

“—we’re born at exactly 7:07 am on July 2nd. So we had to be here to say happy birthday officially!”

“How do you even know the time? I don’t even know that.”

“She snuck a look at your file last time Owen’s was in town.” Eddie smirked.

Robin hit him upside the head, “Don’t tell him that asshole, he already thinks I’m crazy enough. And don’t act like this wasn’t your idea!”

Eddie rubbed the back his head in dramatic fashion then yelled, “Snitch!” through hissed teeth.

Steve felt himself unthaw at the idea that these two weirdos woke up this early for him. “Ah, well, thanks, guys.” A blush rose on his cheeks, “Well, thanks for stopping by; you guys can go home and sleep if you want.”

“Stevie, did you think we brought all this to just leave? On your birthday. Oh no, no, no. We are having a whole movie and snack day! I brought weed, and chips, and we can order a pizza later in the day. And just be lazy weirdos in your fancy living room.” Eddie hopped up on his coffee table, startling a laugh from Steve.

“That sounds like a typically Friday for us, what’s so special about it?” Steve teased.

“Well we brought all of your favorite movies! Grease, Top Gun, Karate Kid, Indiana Jones...wait I think I'm noticing a theme here—“

“Robin!” Steve screeched, his blush coming back with vengeance. He didn’t want her to reveal there very obvious, and embarrassing pattern to his favorite films.

“And!” Eddie said from atop his place on the coffee table, unfazed by the two of them, “We are paying for the pizza.” His voice oozed with pride at that. Steve was sure he had come up with the idea.

“Wow I’m a spoiled prince. Maybe ever think I wanted to stay in bed?” Steve raised a single eyebrow.

“Oh but my sweet prince, we know you rather spend this glorious day with us.” Eddie was confident, with confidence came the damn nicknames, and Jesus Christ—this blush of his was never going away. “Besides what else could you wish for!”

A kiss from you. Steve thought quickly.

Steve sighed deeply before saying, “Alright. Get down.”

Eddie seemed taken aback, like he hadn’t expected the rejection. “Oh yea man, of course. We will get out of your hair.” He scrambled off the table.

Steve giggled, “No Eds. I’m moving the coffee table. This couch is a pullout. We can all just lay on it while we watch movies.”

Eddie’s face lit up while Robin yelled, “Oh thank god, I’m exhausted.”

An hour later, when the sun was still barely risen and Grease blared in the background, Robin was bundled up in the blankets they dragged from his room, out like a light.

Eddie and Steve huddled close, but didn’t touch. The anticipation and want sat between them. “I actually have something for you.” Eddie whispered.

Robin snored beside them; Steve looked at her fondly. “You don’t have to whisper; she’s a heavy sleeper. Learned that the hard way.”

“Ah well, I have a present for you.”

Steve knows he should say that Eddie shouldn’t have, or insist he returns it. He knew it was the polite thing to do. He couldn’t find it in himself to do it, though. The idea that Eddie even thought to get him something beyond the amazing day they had planned (truly Steve couldn’t ask for a better day), but Eddie had spent his time to get something for Steve.

It was nice to have someone who would do something nice for you just because they can, not because they should. So, Steve waited patiently as Eddie reached into his bag beside the couch.

“Here.” Eddie spoke, placing the roughly wrapped package in his lap.

There was a tiny notecard with Eddie’s chicken scratch on it; Steve decided to read that first.

Stevie,

No adventure is the same without you, and this is the only one I have taken without you by my side. Thought it was about time we changed that. Hopefully we are not forever partners in crime (we’ve had enough of that) but instead, adventurers taking on then great unknown.

Together.

Yours,

Eddie Munson ッ

Steve smoothed over the card and tried not to cry. The poorly drawn smiley face stared up at him from the piece of parchment. Steve tucked it into his pocket for safe keeping; he might even frame it.

Eddie looked at Steve eagerly as he tried to open the package. He does it slowly to tease Eddie; his frustrated little growl made butterflies in Steve’s stomach.

Inside the package is a worn-out book, one he would recognize anywhere, considering he saw it every day on Eddie’s bookshelf. “Eds, this is your copy of Lord of the Rings. I can’t take this.”

Eddie put his hair in front of his mouth, suddenly shy, “Well, it wouldn’t be exactly yours. It’s just I thought it would be fun to, ya know, read it together? Like we take turns reading to each other. I know the kids always bug you to read it, and I noticed that it’s hard for you to focus sometimes, and I get that, so it might be easier if we like make it a thing? I know it’s probably not your interest; it’s my favorite book, not yours, so you know what? This is stupid—“

Steve cut him off by pulling him into a hug. Steve buried himself into Eddie’s neck before saying, “Thank you. It’s the best birthday present.”

“Really?” Eddie pulled back to look at Steve’s face. Whatever he found there must settle him, because he relaxed his shoulders. “I know it’s silly, but I guess I wanted to share this piece of myself with you…and maybe spend some more time together.”

Steve didn’t mention how they spent almost every day together, didn’t think he had to either. They both knew.

Steve decided to be bold instead. He pushed Eddie back into the couch and settled his back into Eddie’s chest. He snuggled into the warmth of his arms.

Steve put the book in Eddie’s hand. “Okay, you read first.”

Eddie laughed; Steve could feel the vibrations from under his skin. It was delightful; it was delicious. “Oh, you want to start now?”

Steve made an indignant noise while Eddie laughed again at him. His hands settled at the back of Steve’s neck as he played with hair that brushed it.

“When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventyifirst birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was …”

And once again, hours later, when Steve woke up, after drifting to Eddie’s soft, deep voice, Steve felt something settle in him. He felt Eddie lightly snoring beneath him, one hand still tangled in his hair. He felt Robin’s hand wrapped around his ankle, grounding the both of them. And there, between all of them, was the fallen book with no bookmark, signaling they would have to start again.

Maybe, sometimes. Steve thinks, birthdays could be good.

***

projecting. projecting. projecting. that’s me.

I hope you guys liked this one :) I did use my own bday for him, but the time he was born at is different than mine lol. I had a lot of fun writing it, it was just the softness I needed.

[arizonaconservativegal]

“uwu why don’t you just be fwiends with the bigots and nazis who wanna round us up in death camps?”

rot in hell with your orange dictator fascist scum

See this is why I want you to make friends with people who don't vote like you - so you'd know that other people don't think that way at all and that assuming we do actually makes you sound insane

[bumblesimagines]

The Howards

Request: Yes or No

Summary: After secretly meeting and hooking up, Jules is ready to take things to the next level and meet the Howards as (Y/N)'s official girlfriend.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Mildly offensive/insensitive comment toward Jules

~~~

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel anxiously, his mind able to brush away the worried thoughts swirling around. No matter how much his mother prodded and questioned, he'd never brought a girl home before. Not with a family like his. Absentee addict father, an alcoholic mother, one wallflower-type sister, and another one who was famous at school for having her nudes spread around every few months. They were hardly the picture of a perfect family, much less a functional one. 

But Jules was... different. Stubborn, at the very least.

She'd sprung the idea onto him one night and practically pleaded to meet his family officially. She knew his sisters from school, Lexi through Rue and Cassie through Kat, but she hardly ever spoke to them one-on-one and she'd never seen his mother up close before. The idea of bringing a girl home to his slurring mother and likely weeping sister barely sounded appealing, but Jules batted her pretty blue eyes at him and he gave in. 

"Do you think she'll like me?" Jules asked from her spot in the passenger seat, head tilted toward the window to watch the houses pass by. 

"Who?"

"Your mom." Jules clarified. "Rue says she's really nice. I'm just worried that..." She trailed off, her fingertip circling her knee exposed through her ripped jeans. Her lips twisted, a nervous tic he first noticed when they talked about their feelings.

"Mom isn't a bigot if that's what you're worried about. She might... ask something that feels offensive, though, like about sex or some shit. She's got no filter, especially when she's drunk, and she's drunk... from the time she wakes up to the time she falls asleep." (Y/N) told her, glancing at her when she blew a raspberry and sighed heavily. Jules nodded weakly and took a deep inhale, tearing her eyes away from the window to look at his house through the windshield. 

"Do I look okay?" Jules asked breathlessly as the car pulled into the driveway, dragging her blonde and blue-tinted hair over her shoulders to run her fingers through it. "I feel like I should've brought something like- like, I don't know, muffins? I-I've never actually met anyone's parents before. Or- well, I have, but not like this, you know? Maybe-"

"Jules." (Y/N) turned the key and the soft rumbling of the car ceased, stopping the radio and AC along with it. He chuckled at her and reached out to grab her hand, tenderly squeezing her cool skin and rubbing comforting circles with his thumb. Jules met his gaze and exhaled through her nose, mustering a nervous smile for him. 

"Sorry." She whispered sheepishly. 

"You'll be fine, I promise. My mom doesn't bite. The most you'll have to deal with is her drunk ramblings and stories, I swear." (Y/N) released her hand to pull out the key, swinging open the car door and hopping out. The car beeped with the locks and (Y/N) faced his house, praying to whatever deity above that everything went well. Jules rounded the car and curled her long arms around his, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. 

The inside of the Howard Residence smelled like pasta, and (Y/N)'s stomach softly rumbled. He closed the door with a nudge from his foot and locked it, the sound bringing his mitten-wearing mother out from the kitchen. She looked the same as always. Her makeup seemed slightly smudged, likely from rubbing her eyes without thinking, and her hair remained tousled and semi-unkept. Suze smiled at the sight of them.

"You must be the lucky girl! Jules, right? I'm Suze." She approached them, still wearing the mittens, and gave her a welcoming hug. She stepped back, playfully smacking the mitten against (Y/N)'s arm and winking. "You've got yourself a pretty girl, huh?" Jules giggled bashfully at that, the nerves beginning to leave her body. (Y/N) tried to ease away the tension in his body but found himself unable to as they followed Suze into the kitchen where Lexi collected some plates and cutlery. 

"Hi, Jules!" Lexi smiled politely. 

"Hey, Lexi." Jules gave a small wave, eyes trailing over their kitchen before falling back on the two Howards. Suze poured the pasta and meatballs into a more appropriate bowl, adding some more sauce to it and stirring it around to mix everything. She glanced over her shoulder at them, keeping that same smile on her face. 

"You know, I was shocked when (Y/N) told me he was bringing a girl home for dinner. I mean, I expected it from Cassie, that girl talks about a new boy every month, but (Y/N)? God, about time, honestly. I was starting to worry he was going to become like- like a priest, or something. Or, like, one of those guys, you know the ones who shave their heads?"

"Monks?" Lexi's features scrunched up in confusion as she searched one of the cabinets for cups. (Y/N) inhaled deeply, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. Here we go. The show has officially started. 

"Yeah, yeah, those guys! Not that there's anything wrong with 'em, of course." Suze laughed, slipping the mittens off her hands and placing them aside. She immediately reached for what was likely her eighth cup of the day and took a sip of the wine, humming softly and licking her lips. "I'm so glad the day has come. And with you, Jules. You seem like such a lovely girl. I hear you're friends with Rue, too. That's nice."

Jules smiled. "Thank you. And, yeah, Rue's like my best friend."

"Good, good. She needs more of those." Suze sighed, raking her fingers through her hair and clearing her throat before she looked at them with a smile. "Well, I'm glad to have you here, Jules. At least we know (Y/N) won't be becoming a teen dad anytime soon, thank the lord." 

"Mom." Lexi and (Y/N) hissed simultaneously and shared an exasperated look. Jules blinked at Suze, lips forming silent words as her brows knitted. 

"What?" Suze huffed softly, jutting out her lips when Lexi rolled her eyes and scoffed softly, her big brown eyes turning to Jules and softening. Lexi smiled at her again, motioning to the cups on the counter with a slight pleading look. Jules took the hint and broke away from (Y/N)'s side, gingerly collecting the glass cups and following Lexi to the dining room. (Y/N) cut the distance, snatching the cup from his mother's hand before she could sip from it again, and tossed the contents into the sink. 

"Would it kill you to be sober for one day?"

"I paid for that wine, I get to decide how it's used. Now, excuse me if I'd like to enjoy myself after finding out my son has a secret girlfriend and he's just now introducing her to his family." Suze scowled and snatched the cup right back only to slam it down on the counter to pick up the bowl of pasta instead. (Y/N) rubbed his fingers into the bridge of his nose, feeling his mother brush past him to enter the dining room. 

"Sorry about her." Lexi sighed when she entered the kitchen, folding her arms over her stomach. He picked up Cassie and Jules's voices in the dining room, chatting about one thing and the other. Lexi's lips pursed and he arched a brow at her. "Listen, I... I think Jules is a cool girl and all but... Rue really likes her. Like, really likes her. Gia thinks she's in love. What do you think's gonna happen when Rue finds out you've been seeing Jules in secret this whole time?"

"Rue is none of my concern, Lexi. She's had plenty of time to do something about her feelings, just like you. Jules will tell her when she thinks it's the right time. The only person who can stop Rue from relapsing is Rue, okay?" (Y/N) reached for the lonesome salad bowl and picked it up, turning on his heel to round the corner into the dining room. 

"Hey," Cassie greeted him, groaning when he tousled her hair in return. Jules smiled widely, her eyes flickering between them before they followed him until he settled down beside them. Lexi and Suze re-entered the kitchen, both holding vastly different drink options. Lexi set down some cola cans while Suze happily set down a wine bottle. 

"Alright, sweet peas, I hope you enjoy." Suze chirped, sitting in her seat and immediately pouring herself a new cup of wine. She lifted it up toward Jules with a friendly, drunken smile. "Welcome to the family, honey."

[shadeslayer]

skinny white people going "i cant believe capitalism and predatory advertising is the reason theres lots of weird health trends and 'cures' - no one wants to listen to the real science anymore!" as if western health science from its first conception hasnt been a political vehicle for racism, xenophobia, fatphobia, and all other myriad bigoted ideologies. like capitalism is not the reason that scientists keep publishing studies that "prove" fat people should be rounded up and starved. the Real Science is hard to distinguish from the Bad Science because a lot of the stuff still being treated as foundational is Bad Science that no one wants to challenge bc it backs up their prejudices and its easier to not change their minds or practices

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Alt Assistant AU Pt 6 NSFW

Under the cut!

The morning after their first tryst, anxiety churns in Kara's gut. Looking at Lena's sleeping form beside her, spread and open and relaxed as though she hasnt a care in the world, she wonders if this will be a one time thing. A singular supernova of two bodies colliding before spiralling off into the expanse, never to meet again.

She needn't have worried.

Lena wakes with a purr and a smile, leaning in for a sour kiss before throwing her leg over Kara's waist and levering herself upright. Being knelt over gives Kara a full unobstructed view of Lena's full, rounded breasts, pierced nipples and all. Her mouth goes dry.

"Last night was..." she rasps, not quite sure what word could possibly encompass the experience. All she knows is that she wants more. More and more and more, until Lena consumes her entirely.

A dark eyebrow lifts. "Was....?" Lena prompts teasingly.

"Unbelievable," Kara offers. "Euphoric. Rapturous--"

Lena curls down and kisses her again.

"Intoxicating," Kara sighs when she can breathe again.

Gaze turning soft, Lena regards her from above.

"Last night, you asked me how many times I've thought of this." Green eyes watch her closely. "How often have YOU thought about this?"

"Fucking?" Kara says brashly. "Not as often as being with you. Close to you. I..."

She trails off, suddenly uncertain. Being Lena's assistant, effectively invisible in so mundane a role, has given her confidence. Without having to either hide herself or set an example or embody an ideal, Kara knows she's thrived in a way she never had in the previous reality. But now... being so near to Lena pulls the rug out from under her, leaving her feeling unsteady.

"What?" Lena asks gently. Her head tilts slightly, and Kara thinks she sees genuine care in her features.

"I don't want this to be one time thing."

Lena's lips curl in a barely constrained smile, delight appeared bright and sudden. "Well, then..." she says, her voice all but rumbling. "I suppose it's a good thing I have no intention of letting you go any time soon."

----

Life after that remains relatively the same. In the office anyway. Kara is just as attentive as she's always been, seeing to Lena's every need and many of her wants as well. She brings all of her knowledge of Lena to bear, and she knows Lena is a little surprised at how well she can "guess" what Lena likes and doesn't like.

But as soon as they log off for the night, and go their separate ways at the doors of the LuthorCorp building, all bets are off. They always come back together at Lena's apartment-- Kara uses her speed to arrive before Lena, and simply hides herself a reasonable amount of time before knocking on Lena's door.

They fuck. A lot. Not a single surface in the apartment is safe from their ravenous hunger for each other. For the briefest moment of time, Kara worries that her desire may be one sided, but when she bides her time to let Lena set the pace, Lena's come for her just as ardently.

But as the days pass into weeks, their trysts ease from need to comfort. Their escapades are punctuated by take out meals on the couch in varying states of undress, and light conversation about each other's histories. Kara uses what she knows of herself in this reality and makes up the rest, and Lena reveals what Kara couldn't find online.

Her broken heart at boarding school, her brief shame in her sexuality before she embraced it out of spite for her bigoted mother. Her knowledge of her mother, slightly more than Kara remembers her knowing-- that she'd been a folk singer in a small town before moving to the city to make a better life for Lena. How her mother had died-- cancer, instead of drowning.

Some happy memories too, of her early days with the Luthors-- more than before but still too few-- before Lionel had died in her teenage years.

Her desire to do good, even under the watchful attention of her brother, who sees only profit.

When the weeks pass into over a month, Kara allows herself to believe this might last. That she might be allowed to keep Lena in her life forever. Until one day Lex Luthor himself appears in Lena's office.

She and Lena are just returning from another meeting, and Lena immediately addresses her brother with a warm welcome, preventing Kara from needing to interact with him directly. She pretends not to feel the heat of his glare as she exits to return to her own desk.

As she sits, Kara casts her hearing through the wall between them, listening closely as they exchange pleasantries that seem friendly enough. But it's not long before Lex's tone sharpens.

"I was surprise to hear you'd become a cliche, ace."

The silence that follows is frigid as Lena stiffens.

"Screwing your assistant?" Lex smirks. "Come on."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you and dad had cornered the market on diddling the secretary."

Lena's response is cool and measured, but it kicks Kara in the gut like a mule. She almost misses the darkening of Lex's tone.

"Don't be snide..."

"Oh, but your hypocrisy makes it so easy." Lena huffs. "Jesus Lex. I never gave you grief about Eve, or even Mercy. What gives you the right--"

"I own this company!" Lex barks. "Everything you do is a reflection of me and our name. It's time you remember that."

"As if you'd let me forget--"

"I let you have your little pet projects, let you use company funds for your silly outreach ideas, and you do this?!" Lex takes a breath, letting it out in a huff of feigned sympathy.

"We have rules against this sort of thing, ace, and they're in place for a reason. If you choose to continue, and the board catches wind of it, I won't be able to protect you."

This time, Lena doesn't respond. A quick glance with her x-ray vision shows Kara the inevitable slump of Lena's shoulders.

Lex's senses his victory. "Think about it," he says. "I know you'll do the right thing."

When Lena still doesn't say anything, Lex takes his leave. The smirk he shoots Kara on his way says everything. She's lost.

Later that night, Kara enters Lena's office on quiet feet to go over the next day's schedule. When she finishes, Kara pauses.

"Do you need anything else before I leave?"

A subtle prompt for Lena to leave too, despite the paperwork spread on the desk promising that Lena has no intention of calling it quits.

"I have some proposals to review," Lena says quietly without looking up. "I won't be home until quite late."

"I can stay--"

"No," comes the clipped response. "I have what I need."

Kara grits her teeth, trying not to let her hurt show. She leaves with a nod, forcing herself not to look back until the door shuts behind her. Only then does she turn to peer through the wall, and witness the sad features Lena covers with both hands, elbows resting on the desk.

Scowling, Kara turns on her heel and heads home.

[jolieblack]

Something finally came to me! (I usually can’t write to prompts to save my life.)

May Prompts 2024 by @calaisreno

May 24th: Imperfect

We've always done things the wrong way round.

We moved in together at a time when we knew no more than four or five facts about each other. Significant facts, granted, such as John being a war veteran and me having no patience with idiots, but neither of us could have claimed to have had anything even close to the full picture at the time. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if either of us had. Only on my really bad days, though.

I don’t have all that many of those any more, luckily. And when I do, I have plenty of good memories to help me pull myself up again. Take the ones of how we confessed our love to each other to a beautifully decorated room full of people in festive dress and in even more festive spirit, to much applause and cheering and well-wishing. Yes, you heard that plural right. Those are two separate memories, years apart and in two different places. I got to go first, and it wasn’t even me who was getting married at the time. That’s another thing that most couples would do differently. Coordinate it a bit better, at least.

The second time around, as a lot of you will remember well, it was John's turn to talk, and I‘d been told in no uncertain terms to keep my mouth shut and say nothing, not even to correct his grammar, till he was done. I can now attest that it is true that the groom never gets to have a say in anything at his own wedding. Someone got his late revenge there. And believe me, that doesn’t depend on whether it’s one groom or two. Yes, and I know there are still people out there even in this day and age who feel that it’s not normal to have two grooms at all. They can all go away and never show their ugly faces again where I can see them, or smell the foul breath of the bigoted filth they’re spouting. That’s not the wrong way around, that couldn’t be more right for both of us.

But we did other things the wrong way around, too. In most romantic stories, killing someone to save the person you love is usually the culmination of long mutual trust and dedication. It‘s supposed to be the crowning glory, the final sealing of a bond that has long been in the making. It’s not supposed to be the starting point. And John is usually the more patient of the two of us, but when it came to this, he could barely contain himself for 36 hours after our very first meeting before he did it. Ever heard of timing and pacing, Doctor, I hear you people wonder? And he’s supposed to be the one with the talent for good storytelling. The timing was good, though. The timing was excellent. There’s another 'what if' for you that is no fun to contemplate at all.

There is killing out of love, and - I have to say it, I can’t not, I‘d be lying by omission if I didn't - there's also dying out of love. I doubt, however, that there’s anyone out there who has ever put a more elaborate effort into pretending to die out of love than I have. As far as I‘m aware, that’s not really a romantic convention, either, and I sincerely hope I haven’t started a trend. I honestly can’t recommend it. Effort is well and good, and I dare say the execution in my case was flawless, but I can’t deny there was a certain lack of forethought as to the emotional impact on both parties concerned. Don‘t try this at home, folks.

People also usually date first, then start cohabiting, then get married, then raise children together. Please don’t ask me to define at what time in our lives exactly John and I were dating and when we weren’t yet. To this day we have never been able to agree on a definition for this mysterious activity that emphatically, according to John, for whatever reason, does not encompass two people who like each other going out together and having fun. But it is an undisputed fact that we had been raising a child together for a good while before we got married. And we have been going out together and having fun for years uncounted now. Crime scenes never fail to work that particular magic on us. Oh wait, no, that was another example I had on my list for what most other couples do differently. Hang on, do I see a certain Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard raise his hand in objection? Raising both hands, actually, showing us… what, seven fingers? Is that the number of couples working for the Metropolitan Police that you know personally who have met at crime scenes? Or are you reminding us of the number of times John and I were actually kicked off a crime scene because we were enjoying ourselves entirely too much, and were told not to come back till we could behave like adults? I could have sworn those were more than seven occasions, but I‘ll take your word for it.

Talking of raising a child together, I‘m sure Rosie will say a word or three about that herself later, but I have never understood why most of you had doubts about the practicability of that particular endeavour. Let me just tell you that a baby carrier is entirely compatible with a cashmere scarf, or didn’t you know cashmere can absorb up to a third of its own dry weight in liquid? And it got only easier from there when Rosie grew older and stopped affectionately drooling on whoever enjoyed the happy privilege of holding her and carrying her around. She hasn’t demanded being carried around in a good while now, and I don’t know what our poor old backs would say to that these days. But we were talking about happy memories, weren’t we, so there’s another. And at least in the metaphorical sense, I hope you know, Rosie, that you’ll be held and carried for as long as you want and need, as long as we both live. You were my daughter even before I was your father’s husband, and that has been one of the greatest honours bestowed on me in my life.

Because this is who we are, isn’t it, our crazy little family, where nothing is as you’d expect it to be. But we still wouldn’t have it any other way, topsy-turvy, weird, flawed and utterly imperfect, but also utterly us, unique, one of a kind. I don’t know if it was fate that threw us together, or if it really was just a whim on the part of the comfortable, corpulent, bespectacled gentleman sitting at this table over here, smirking with his trademark benevolence. But there’s a debt of gratitude to be paid there, and today is a good day to do it. In this at least, we’re doing the conventional thing, but who’s to say we’re not allowed to do that at least once in a quarter-century.

So, ladies and gentlemen, dear friends and family from far and wide, I give you: John Watson, the man of my life, the man at my side for over thirty years, and for exactly twenty-five years in the legal sense on this very day. Please raise your glasses with us to the next twenty-five. And for God’s sake stop snivelling like that, Mycroft. You’re embarrassing the whole room.

[fanfic-lover-girl]

Double Standards: Malfoys vs Potters Edition

It's interesting how people view the Malfoy vs Potter men. The Malfoys are often considered shallow while the Potters are lauded for befriending the "downtrodden".

James Potter befriended Remus Lupin, a disadvantaged werewolf. He and his friends became animagi for Lupin. That's great and all...but then why was Remus so hesitant to go against the status quo and speak out against the marauders - to do his job as prefect?

And James treated Wormtail like trash too.

‘How thick are you, Wormtail?’ said James impatiently. ‘You run round with a werewolf once a month –’

Nice to say that out loud where anyone can hear, Jamie.

‘Put that away, will you,’ said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, ‘before Wormtail wets himself with excitement.’ Wormtail turned slightly pink, but James grinned.

“Lily and James only made you Secret Keeper because I suggested it,” Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backwards. “I thought it was the perfect plan… a bluff… Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you… it must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.”

You really don't get the vibe that Sirius or James held little Petie in high regard, do you?

It can't be more obvious that Sirus and James were top dogs and Peter and Remus were just add-ons.

As for Harry, where to start with him? He shows little empathy for other people and has a nasty habit of describing people in dehumanizing ways (eg. Aberforth, Salazar Slytherin, Marcus etc). He has probably described Tom Riddle, the guy who murdered his parents, as attractive more times than his own girlfriend Ginny. He latched on to Ron because of his family and honestly, Hermione feels like a pity friend at times. Harry hardly likes being around her without Ron. Harry has another nasty habit of giving his best friends the silent treatment until they come crawling back to him, even when he is in the wrong too (re firebolt for Hermione and Ron believing Harry entered his name in the goblet of fire).

‘Hullo,’ said the boy, ‘Hogwarts too?’ ‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,’ said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. ‘Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first-years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.’

Yet, no one seems to give Lucius and Draco any credit. These people are supposed to be snobby, pureblood supremacists. Yet, even though Harry was dressed in decrepit muggle clothes, Draco still engaged him in conversation. Draco had no idea who Harry was, had no clue he was famous at the time, and still made several efforts to talk with him and continue the conversation even when Harry was cold and aloof.

And Severus Snape moved off to the other side of the Hall, away from Lily, to where the Slytherins were cheering him, to where Lucius Malfoy, a prefect badge gleaming upon his chest, patted Snape on the back as he sat down beside him …

Lucius knows 'Snape' is not a pureblood name. He could see Snape's clothes were probably old hand-me-downs. He knows Snape is way below his class. Yet, he still welcomes Snape warmly to Slytherin. What reason would he have to fake pleasantries with a poor half-blood? I doubt Slughorn or the other bigoted purebloods would care if Lucius left his seat in disgust at Snape's presence. Even as adults, it is indicated in the narrative multiple times that Lucius holds Snape in high esteem. Draco held Snape in high esteem too despite being a halfblood.

The same Snape that James Potter tormented for no good reason - because Snape existed. Instead of targetting the purebloods like Avery and Mulciber, James and his delinquent loser gang went after Snape, the poor half-blood. Harry literally did nothing as Snape lay dying in the same shack that Lupin almost killed him in two decades prior.

Harry describes Pansy as being pug-faced...yet Draco still dated her. Even though Crabbe turned on him, Draco still grieved for him afterwards. Compared to Harry who only dates the prettiest girls and body shames other girls if they don't meet his standard and only cares about people who do things for him, like him and are loyal to him. It's only when the people he dislikes die for him that he changes his tune and suddenly they become great people.

How can people say the Potters are less shallow than the Malfoys??Draco and Lucius will always be high-class elitists who believe in sticking with their 'own kind' but give credit where credit is due.

[hotvintagepoll]

Welcome to the HOT AND VINTAGE MOVIE STARS poll blog! The Hot & Vintage Men Tournament and The Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament are now wrapped—congrats to Toshiro Mifune and Eartha Kitt! If you are here for the Dracula Daily polls, those will be posted regularly following the progress of the Substack newsletters.

All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds, old tournaments, the various shadow brackets, the Dracula Daily polls, and fun mini polls—can be found in the #hotvintagepoll tag.

FAQs:

"What is the next tournament?" We'll either do the scrungly little guys contest or the Ultimate Hotties tournament.

"When is the next tournament?" Sometime later this summer. I need to take a break, but then I'll be back.

"I want to find my favorite hottie!" Try a tag search for them (ie, use a hashtag in my search bar to find every post I've tagged them in). If you still haven't found your hottie, they either did not fit the criteria of being a movie star from 1910-1970 or they did not make it past the prelims.

“Can I start submitting for the future tournaments? I have guys! I have propaganda!” Please wait for me to post a submission form or otherwise formally announce a tournament before submitting anything.

The views expressed in the propaganda are not my own. I don’t submit my own propaganda, and I don’t change what’s submitted beyond fixing obvious spelling mistakes. If you hate a poll bio or a pic, let me know and send me something I can use instead.

I don’t post or boost negative propaganda about any of the hotties. If you really hate that someone is winning, send me positive propaganda for their hot opponent instead. A lot of these hotties were flawed or problematic in some way—or straight up garbage—but for reasons I go into here, I don't boost anti-propaganda.

If I see repetitive, trolling, and/or bigoted remarks in the comments, I may block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a competitor's problems in the replies, that's fine, but if I see consistent bad-faith trolling or targeted harassment of anyone, you will be blocked.

"Tel me again who won the major tournaments?" Eartha Kitt was crowned the hottest Hot & Vintage Movie Woman, and Toshiro Mifune won the Hot & Vintage Movie Man Tournament.

"Tell me more about this shadow realm?" There is too much lore.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I love hearing from you guys—just please check these basics first.

Tournament schedule post-hiatus:

Ongoing: Dracula Daily casting polls

Possibly next: Scrungly Little Guys contest (gender neutral)

Possibly next: Ultimate Hottie Tournament (top brackets of the hot men & hot women competing together)

TBD: Horror Hotties (Frankensteins, Draculas, Brides, etc.)

TBD: Dandy Detectives (Marples, Sherlocks, Nancy Drews, etc.)

fun mini polls that pit sets of characters from the same movie together, like the Philadelphia Story or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers ones (these can be found in the #minis tag)

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the polls.

[mdhwrites]

The Mis-Projections of Odalia

Odalia's fanon versus canon characterizations are fascinating to me because at every turn, the fandom takes what is actually a reasonable trait of Odalia and cranks it up to 11, even to the point where it's entirely incongruent with both the facts and the spirit of the show. Consider this a continuation of me questioning how bad a parent Odalia is. I will also say upfront here that I have point, beyond just bashing fandom's ability to remember what the show is, for why this matters but I need to get through the rest first.

So, how does the fandom, or most of them at least, characterize Odalia? Well, they make it that she is the root of all evil, abusive, racist, classist, doesn't care about anyone or anything but herself and is a capitalist who only ever sells snake oils and lies.

In the show... She's very few of these things and many of the rest are actually her being a part of the Isle's culture. Not its nebulous culture that's bad but like the ONE element of its culture that is ever consistent. We'll get to that though.

Is she evil? Honestly, by the metrics of the show, not really. She isn't an slaver like the publishing lizard. She doesn't kill people just for fun like the bounty hunters. She doesn't scam people (we'll get back to that) like Tibbles. She isn't entirely good mind you, she's scrupulous and is willing to break her own beliefs when emotions run high but compared to like ALL the other villains in TOH, she's weirdly tame. Now mind you, the villains of TOH are all charicatures based out of the 90s so the bar is ROCK FUCKING BOTTOM but rather than fantasy levels of evil, Odalia is boringly modern and constrained. Put her in the human realm and literally nothing of what she does changes, including making a killer robot. She is not the worst person on the Isles though.

How about being a bigot of any sort? Well, Dana is correct that as far as we see, Belos is the only bigot on the Isles. The closest that ever comes to it otherwise is Boscha scribbling Round Ears on Luz which as far as bigotry goes is the equivalent of calling a kid with glasses four eyes. No, instead, she is, like all of the Isles, merit based in how she treats people. Period. No ifs ands or buts.

I say this so firmly because people don't seem to understand that. Boscha is liked because she is strong and gets results. Amity was popular because she was top of her class and got results. Willow was disliked not because of any racial, religious, gender, etc. element, it was ENTIRELY from the fact that she fucked around, caused trouble and was entirely unskilled. By her own society, young Willow was an abject failure. She wouldn't listen to rules, even simple ones like 'go to class' in the flashback we see with Amity, and her skill with magic was genuinely abysmal until she swapped courses at which point she excelled and became popular.

So, who does Odalia dislike? Gus, Willow and Luz. One of these fuckers doesn't want to follow what he's a savant at and instead wants to chase cryptids by their societies standards, and also got his ass put into detention before breaking detention to get out, the next already had a history of fucking around and is associated with two troublemakers already meaning she is still trouble, and the third... The third is the apprentice to the OWL LADY. She practices WILD MAGIC. Everything about Luz is illegal WITHOUT getting into all the times Luz has broken the law, rules and just general common sense. By a meritocracy, what the Isles is, these three are the bottom of the barrel. It'd be like saying a parent was unreasonable for not wanting their kid to hang out with the sixteen year old drug dealer behind their school and skipping class to do so. She's pretty fucking valid honestly for not wanting Amity to associate with these people.

Is she abusive? This one is more up in the air but besides Escaping Expulsion, we never see consequences for disobeying her, minus when her kids break the law and try to sabotage their own family in Clouds on the Horizon for which they're ONLY GROUNDED instead of way worse. We also never really see her kids worry about punishment outside of, again, Escaping Expulsion where the twins mention not telling mom they're helping but also they don't try to stop Amity out of fear for her own safety. You know, like people who are used to strict retaliation for mistakes should be. Amity quits the covens and seems to have literally no repercussions from that. She can also just keep telling her mom to go fuck off about her hair. This is not the attitude of an abused child. Oh and on the side of Odalia gives zero shits about her family, first I'm going to say I'm entirely ignoring Clouds on the Horizon's bullshit of "I knew about Belos' plan" because there's no reason for her to have been told that, no need for her to have been told that and is such a needless escalation of her character being cartoonishly evil, ratcheting back into being at home with the rest of the villains of TOH, that it it is just a transcendentally bad piece of writing that should only be mocked. HOWEVER. The first time we literally ever hear about Odalia is a moment of kindness and care. She sends the twins to bring Amity her lunch to make sure she eats. That's... Caring. She didn't send them to scold her or punished her by not letting her eat, she sent her troublemaking twins to the library to feed her and probably in hopes that the twins might study a bit. That's a fine mom move. Without more that is clearly abuse, I see it as neutral at worst. The necklace is the same way. It's more secretive than sending her daughter texts but they all have cellphones, she can just text her and that's really all she ever does with the necklace. She never actually controls Amity with it. Without more to sustain allegations of abuse, I don't see it as anything particularly nasty.

And finally: Is she a scammer? I won't say she isn't a capitalist but TOH never tears down the whole economy and the Isles appears to be by volume 80% scammers or criminals of some sort when it comes to their shopkeeps so capitalism is still absolutely a thing. Is Odalia one of these though? No. The worst she does is exaggeration and that's just marketing. It's not false advertising, it's just painting your product the best you can. She never says the abomaton can take down an Emperor's Coven guard so a trained, albeit young but also top of her class, abomination witch being able to take down the abomaton 1.0? Yeah. that's not lying. It still would do a plenty good job protecting your home and kids from things most people want out of their home defense systems like burglars. It also factually can do everything else Odalia promised. We're shown that. Whether it does it well is up for debate but it DOES do everything legitimately with Amity up until she's supposed to feign being in danger which like... Did you want her to be actually in danger? Actually have her life at risk? Because that would be irresponsible especially to do to your OWN DAUGHTER. She only removes essentially the safety constraints once it's someone she gives no shits about and sees gain in their removal (and also is pissed.) That's not scamming people, that's a product demonstration. It was still able to grab Amity and lift her in the air with one arm, showing its strength. Also, everything else Odalia shows off as Blight Industry tech is legit, much to Luz's detriment.

SO. As you can see, the fandom is essentially dead wrong when it comes to Odalia. They took kernals of truth, that she's a strict mom, capitalist, judgemental, etc. and blew them up to be as bad as they could be. Why did they do this though? Why is this even important?

Well, it's because the show WANTS you to take her that far. Amity doesn't actually do much to redeem herself, especially to those she wrongs. She NEVER does anything but a bare minimum apology to Willow for YEARS of bullying that Odalia didn't ask her to do. Odalia just asked her to stop being friends with Willow. But hey, since all Amity does is an apology, that Willow only kind of accepts, literally stating they're not friends still... What do you do about that? Standing up to Boscha is for Luz after all. Standing up to her mom is for Luz. She never even bashes the ideologies she used to have to show her change, just that she was nebulously wrong but she's better now without any real sacrifice or meaningful acts of redemption. So... As a viewer, what the fuck do you do with that?

Edit: Someone pointed out that she doesn't actually apologize. She does say she was wrong when she was younger which is actually good for redemption BUUUUUT she claims she'll make Boscha and everyone else stop bullying Willow. Then Winging it Like Witches happens where Amity doesn't give a fuck about what Boscha is doing until it is focus fired on Luz making her whole speech there just a bold faced lie. Good job Amity.

Well, you do what the show did and scapegoat people. Why is it okay that Amity abandons her friends like she did Willow so many years ago? Because they're evil and bad people, or Boscha is at least, despite Boscha doing nothing Amity hasn't already in the show. But she was only like that because of her mom. Her awful, abusive, controlling, classist...

Wait a second. Do you dear reader see the problem?

This is why the projection is required. TOH actually is really bad at redemption arcs, namely that it doesn't know what redemption means besides no longer being a dick, and so you actually no way to forgive the characters for what they did by what they do. As such, you need excuses. The people the fandom hates the most are usually those scapegoats, especially for Amity. Why is Boscha worse than Belos when all she is is a bully? Because people claim she was the reason Amity was a bully and shift the fact that Amity was Willow's main bully to Boscha, despite all evidence to the contrary. Why do they make Odalia worse than all other villains in media combined? Because otherwise, their blorbo, the lesbian that helped make TOH as popular as it was, the one who was endlessly praised for having a transcendentally written character arc... Is never redeemed nor actually has much of an arc or depth to her character. She NEEDS to have all these serious elements put upon her through her mom or else... She's just a mean girl who fell in love and decided to care about one person and be a LITTLE better to other people. Remember, at the point of Labyrinth Runners, an entire season after Understanding Willow, Amity does not recognize that she was wrong that Willow is weak despite Willow's entire character for the past season being defined by how overpowered she. Amity very clearly has not been paying attention or caring about anyone about Luz and that's not what a good person does? You care because caring is the correct thing to do.

And I care because I would like her to be written better. I would like her to be more than what she was. I would like the whole show to be. But... Odalia isn't what you think she is and that matters because it means Amity isn't either. The show isn't either. See you next tale.

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I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[mostmouse]

Hi I’ve seen your work and love how you write for kyojuro! Can you write a kyojuro x reader where the reader is pregnant and how he spoils her during her pregnancy in many ways *hint* *hint* and maybe a scene where after there daughter is born some bigot says that he “wouldn’t forgive his wife for having a girl” and kyo is like wtf dude and puts him in his place to defend his wife and daughter.

This got away from me a little bit, but I hope you still like it! its a tiny hint of yandere, if you look :)

A Proud Father (AO3)

(Kyojuro Rengoku x f!reader, explicit, threat of violence, slight yandere, 4,100 words)

Kyojuro couldn't be prouder or more in love with his beautiful wife and daughter. He has his little brother and best friend visit as well, and only loses his cool for one moment when a drunkard insults his two girls.

Kyojuro rubbed his hand across your round belly, voice hot as he whispered in your ear. You panted next to him, his chest pressed flush against your back as your leg was curled back over his hip. The fluffiest pillow you had was tucked under your tummy, supporting it as he lovingly rolled his hips against you, filling you up.

Moaning softly, your heavy eyes fought to stay open. “My little flame is so sleepy. It’s alright if you pass out, my love. I promise to take good care of your body and our little one while you’re resting.” You whined at his breathy words, hot kisses trailing the back of your neck.

“Kyo~” He groaned, your voice washing over him like velvet. The both of you moaned loudly as he thrust inside of you roughly, his apologies falling over you as you gripped the pillow next to your head. “P-Please, more, like th-ahh!”

You keened sharply as Kyojuro pressed tighter to you, strong arm winding around you like a tree trunk as he bucked his hips. “You’re tempting me more than you know… I don’t want to hurt the baby, but fuck- you’ve been so insatiable the last few weeks.” His words were in his usual loving tone, his hand gentle, but he pounded you a bit harder. Anchoring his feet and knee, he slipped his swollen thick cock deep inside you.

You gasped under him, moaning wantonly. Hands leaving the pillow, you gripped your heavy breasts in your palms, whimpering as your body bounced. “K-Kyo!” He panted behind you, and you knew he was close. Even after you climaxed twice on his hands, once in his mouth, and only a handful of moments ago, you still felt yourself tightly wound up, mouth watering at the feeling of his cock inside you.

“D-Don’t- ah! Don’t stop! Please, please, please don’t stop!” Kyojuro laughed breathless behind you, arm propping himself up as he fucked you. You whimpered, words slurring on your tongue as you tried to spread your legs wider, almost sobbing as he slipped just a bit deeper inside of you.

He groaned, hand leaving the soft, warm curve of your tummy and instead rubbing your clit with his rough and calloused hands. Panting right by your ear, you cried out as he brought you to another climax, your clit sensitive and overstimulated. Kyojuro bit your shoulder, muffling his cry as you tightened almost painfully around him.

Every night this week had been almost the same routine, though the positions and locations often changed. He couldn’t count how many times he’d gotten you off, and yet you would still look up at him with such pleading eyes, begging him to blow his load inside you and to help you cum.

His hand left your puffy clit, instead gripping the sheets tightly as he helped you ride out your high. The only thing on his mind was making sure you were happy and satisfied, that you felt as beautiful and perfect and attractive as before you were this heavily pregnant. Your cries and moans were music to his ears as he rocked inside you. However, the more salacious your sounds were getting, the harder it was to hold himself back.

With a tight groan, he kissed the shell of your ear. “Where do you want me to- ahh! Fi-Finish, my little- hahh~” Whimpering, he listened as you hummed delightedly, hips moving against his, not quite flexible enough anymore to grind.

“Inside~ Fuck, Kyo, please~” Drool wet the pillow under your mouth, eyes finally closing as your worn out body came down from your continuous orgasms. Your brows pinched upwards as your large husband adjusted you, turning you to be more on your back. You whined, the strain on your belly uncomfortable without your pillow, but Kyo’s voice was hot in your ears.

“Ju-Just for a moment, my love, fuck!” His hands held your hips gently, not enough to leave marks but just to keep you in place. You cried out loudly as he pounded you fast and hard, gripping his hands as you tried to arch your back. “Fuck, fuck! You feel amazing, my sweet little flame- ahh! So perfect around me- take all this cum, baby, it’s only for you.”

He bit your shoulder, moving along your neck and leaving light marks. His hips slammed against yours roughly until he cried out, back arching the both of you upwards. You moaned loudly, eyes rolling back and a sudden wave of satisfaction hitting you. You went limp in his grip, feeling his cum pool inside you.

As he came back down, he gently laid you back on your side, readjusting the pillow and your legs before he gently slipped out of you. Laughing at your sleepy whines, he kissed your cheek and the corner of your mouth before snuggling in behind you, tugging the blankets up with his feet. “I’m sorry, sweetness, but I can’t stay inside you like this. It’s not comfortable for you anymore.”

His voice was soft, his legs tangling with yours and holding you just until you fell asleep, then he’d get something to clean the both of you up. He didn’t want you to be sticky and feeling gross, but in the later months of your pregnancy, you were near tears when he was away from you - even a trip to the bathroom was too far for your tastes.

You whimpered, wiggling against him, words jumbled together as you tried to speak to him. Kissing your jaw, he moved down and sucked small marks into your neck and shoulders. “I’ll be right here, I promise. And when you wake up, I’ll be right here as well.”

You sighed contentedly, making other sleepy noises as you snuggled in and gently fell asleep. Kyojuro stayed by your side as promised, only sneaking away to get a cloth to clean you up and some water and snacks.

Then, one fateful sunny afternoon, the big day arrived. Kyojuro was next to you, holding onto you with a bright smile on his face, telling you how great you did and how beautiful the baby was. She had thick blond hair, and wide brows. You had laughed so happily you cried once you saw the little bundle, holding her to your bare chest.

Kyojuro had cried as well, tears slipping down his cheeks as he couldn’t help but smile. He had sent his crow moments ago with the good news for Master and the other hashira to rejoice in. The two of you were quiet now, holding onto each other and passing your sweet daughter back and forth.

The hours went by, and as you slept, he helped maneuver your daughter on your chest, letting her eat before he went and got food for the both of you. He had set up your birthing bed in the living room, piling futons atop each other on the tatami and burrowing you inside of them.

He felt much better knowing that he could see you from all over the house. The bathroom, the kitchen, the outdoors. You were at the center of it all with the newest addition to your family. Smiling to himself, he thought of Senjuro - he hadn’t sent his crow to his little brother, instead he wanted to tell him in person and bring him to your home.

He knew you would be thrilled, you had told him before giving birth how you wished you had your child in your arms already so you could show them off to all the demon slayers, hashira, Master, and especially Senjuro. In fact, you had asked Kyojuro if he could set up a spare room so that Senjuro could stay if he’d like to - as long as he didn’t mind the crying that was sure to come.

However, your sweet bundle so far was a quiet unfussy little ember, resting adorably in her mother’s arms, big eyes looking up at him occasionally. The little girl had your eyes, your nose, and was closer to your complexion than his. Clenching his fists, with an unflappable smile on his face, he went outside silently, leaving the door open so he could still see you as he walked into the yard.

Clapping his hands over his mouth, he leaned forward and screamed into his palms. He was too energized, too excited, too much for the sleeping pair in the family home. Pulling his hair, he kicked his leg, digging up dirt as he grinned almost painfully.

Keeping his eyes on his two girls, he focused on breathing exercises Mitsuri had taught him that she used when she got too excited as well. Counting in his head, he finally felt his heartbeat slow down and his body become just a few degrees cooler. Sighing, his smile softened, new tears clinging to his lash line as he approached the house once more and got another look at the two of you.

After a few days passed, Kyojuro invited Tengen to the home, telling the other hashira they could come soon but to still give his beloved time to heal and adjust. Both you and Tengen were sitting together in the living room, you had finally moved from your nest to a rocking chair and were nursing the baby while he sat in the doorway. His gems clinked in the wind, soft eyes watching you closely and subtly.

Kyojuro had left the house to collect Senjuro from his family’s estate. He had told you he wouldn’t tell him you had already given birth, wanting to see his face when he saw your daughter. Tengen had laughed boisterously, clapping Kyojuro on the back as the two of them joked. Your heart had swelled in adoration, seeing your husband with his close friend and ally, living as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

You were tired, being awake at odd hours feeding the baby as well as the fatigue of giving birth to a human person. “You can rest up, I’ll make sure she doesn’t fall out of your arms.” Tengen’s soft low voice called out to you, and you blearily blinked at him. “Kyojuro and his brother will be a while, Senjuro isn’t that tall after all, he can’t keep up with his big brother’s strides yet.”

The two of you laughed, your baby gurgling in your arms. Looking down at her, you made eye contact with the sound hashira once more, “Want to hold her? She should be tired now that she’s gotten her fill. I wouldn’t mind crawling back into the blankets without her for just a little while.”

Tengen blinked before grinning widely. “I wouldn’t mind at all, please.” He took her gently from your weak arms, huffing in laughter as they fell right back to your sides as you relaxed fully. “She’s so small… By the gods, what an amazing gift.”

You hummed, getting up before sinking down to your knees, crawling into the futon and flopping down. Afterall, there was no need for dignity in front of Kyojuro’s best friend, not when you knew the man had three wives, surely he was used to such domestic antics. Heaving a heavy sigh, your tired eyes fell on the two of them as he sat back down, looking at the little girl in his arms and feeling something stir inside him.

“Isn’t she wonderful? She’s nearly the spitting image of her daddy. I bet he's proud beyond all reason. What did he say when he invited you here?” Tengen grinned, biting his lip to keep from being too loud with a baby in his arms.

“Just that I needed to prepare myself to see the most beautiful little girl this world has ever seen. I bet he was even more awestruck getting to see her than he was with his own brother’s birth.”

The both of you laughed, indeed even at a young ago, Kyojuro was amazed when Senjuro was born. The same sort of amazement probably possessed him as he witnessed his own daughter’s birth. The two of you laughed and chatted softly, Tengen smiling in relief once you fell asleep. He was aware of how exhausted you looked, he had never known you to slow down for even a second, the perfect match for the energetic flame hashira. Turning his attention back to the little bundle, he stroked her short thick hair, admiring her little nose and tiny mouth.

You were right, she was fat and happy and completely easy to deal with. He hoped she would be a good baby for the two of you. Pinching her cheeks, he laughed softly as she batted his hands as if she were a small kitten. Her only other sibling, the cat you and Kyojuro shared, was resting on your blankets, keeping a watchful eye on baby and mother.

Humming softly, he held your daughter as you slept. Slowly, the sun made its way through the sky and he could hear Kyojuro’s voice in the distance. Grinning to himself, he slipped around the corner of the door, leaving one foot out so Kyojuro would notice immediately but still able to surprise Senjuro.

The front doors slid open, the two brothers talking excitedly with each other, as they slipped off their shoes. Stepping up the entryway, Kyojuro smiled softly as he saw you asleep in the blankets. Senjuro smiled, tilting his head, “Should we come back, brother? She looks really tired.”

Kyojuro grinned, catching Tengen’s foot by the open door, “I would think she would be busy, considering…” He let his words trail off, the obvious sign for his best friend as he rounded the corner, blond baby in his arms.

“Considering she just helped this little one come into the world! Say hi to your niece, Senjuro.” Tengen was all grins as he watched the youngest Rengoku brother’s eyes widen as big as dinner plates. Walking up to the both of them, he winked at Kyojuro before sinking to one knee, presenting the little girl to Senjuro.

Senjuro balked, looking up at his brother. Kyojuro nodded, kneeling down and placing an arm around his little brother’s shoulders, “It’s okay, you can hold her. I know you’ll protect her, little brother.”

Swallowing, Senjuro held out his arms, marveling as Tengen placed the baby with him before letting her go. Senjuro teared up, big drops dripping down his cheeks as he looked at the little girl. Sniffling, he looked to Kyojuro, “She’s… She’s your baby. Your child.” Looking down again, he heard Kyojuro and Tengen laugh softly, his brother’s hand resting atop his head.

“Yes, she’s my daughter. And she’s your family too, Senjuro. Should anything ever happen to me… Could I ask you that you show her the same love I would?” Senjuro’s eyes met Kyojuro’s, “I haven’t brought up anything with her yet, I know such a question would upset her terribly, especially so soon after the birth. But it’s something I need to know, for my own sanity. I’m sorry for asking such a thing of you, little brother.”

His eyes were soft as he gazed down at Senjuro, the spitting image of himself - of their father. However, unlike their father, Senjuro’s eyes lit brightly, a flame dancing within them, “I swear to you, brother! No matter what happens, I will always love her and protect her, I won’t ever let anything happen to either of them.” His face was steely in determination, and for a moment, Kyojuro realized his brother had grown much without him being there.

Fresh tears in his eyes, he didn’t fail to notice how Senjuro said ‘either’ of you, and his soul warmed knowing that he would be there for you, too. Hugging his little brother and new baby girl, he sobbed quietly. “I know you will. Thank you, thank you so much Senjuro. I’m so proud of you.” Leaning back he ruffled his hair before kissing his forehead, smiling down once more, “When did you grow into an honorable young man? You make me so proud to be able to call you my brother.”

Senjuro’s eyes welled up once more, and with a laugh Tengen took the baby from his arms, letting Senjuro hug his brother close, the latter lifting him into his arms and laughing delightedly. Tengen turned to face you, hearing you rustle in your blanket fort and sit up. Your hair was a mess, your kimono wrinkled and crooked, but you smiled as if you were the most blessed woman in the country. Though, he supposed you were. Kyojuro was the most amazing man he knew.

Once you welcomed Senjuro, holding the baby in your arms once more and feeding her, the Rengoku brothers were kind enough to cook something for the four of you, Tengen helping where he could, mostly fussing over you as you waddled about, kimono loose and tiredly dazed.

Once all of you had a nice hot meal together, passing the baby around so everyone could get their fill, it was finally evening and Senjuro wanted to go home for a couple days to collect his things before joining the two of you to stay for a bit. Tengen was once again alone with you as the Rengoku brothers left.

You had a nice chat, but apologized as you were growing more and more fatigued after the eventful evening. Tengen assured you that it wasn’t a problem, that he was more than happy to get to spend time with the baby as well, and you couldn’t help but grin. “Kyo always talks about how you’re as close as brothers, so honestly,” You yawned, nestling back up in your blankets, “I consider you family as well, she’ll be so thrilled… to get to know… her uncle Tengen.”

Tengen stood there, shocked expression on his face as you snored softly in your makeshift bed. Blinking rapidly, he looked down at the baby in his thick arms. “Kyojuro’s brother… family… niece…” Expression warming, his heart beat loudly in his chest. Leaning down, he kissed the little girl on her forehead, moving to sit outside on the engawa and looking up at the dusk stars. “Maybe… I could have a big family, too.” Looking down at her, “Would you want a lot of cousins?”

She giggled in his arms, flapping her tiny hands and little eyes watching everything around her. Soft smile on his face, he looked back up to the sky. “Yeah, me too. Maybe I’ll talk to Hina, Makio, and Suma about it.” Keeping one ear out for your breathing, and the other focused on the little bundle in his arms, he let himself get lost in the stars thinking about his retirement.

Meanwhile, Kyojuro waved at Senjuro as he walked out the estate gate. He had tried to talk to his father about his granddaughter, but once again, he was too intoxicated to hold a proper conversation. Wishing him well, he had walked back to the door with Senjuro. Grinning, he closed the gate before taking off.

Sprinting through the woods as a shortcut, he basked in the feeling of being in his uniform again, the comforting weight of his katana at his side. He figured he would do a quick patrol around the area to make sure there weren’t any signs of demons in the vicinity, just for his own peace of mind.

Once he had his fill, he stopped at the night market, shopping around for something sweet to bring home to you and Tengen. Browsing the stalls, he sniffed the air, trying to find something on the wind, possibly. However, in the corner of his eye, he saw a man giving him a harsh look.

Hair bristling for some reason, he decided to approach him, cautious of the feeling at the back of his mind. The man scoffed, taking a swig from the jug in his hand and turned to go down the alley. Kyojuro kept his face neutral, following him before they were out of the general marketplace.

Watching the man closely, Kyojuro smiled, “Hello! I couldn’t help but notice you earlier. Is there something I can help you with, or perhaps, did you need something?” The man sneered up at him, his breath so heavy with alcohol it almost had Kyojuro retching.

“Yeah, actually.” He practically spit the words out, disrespectful glare aimed towards Kyojuro, “Heard you were a big shot demon slayer, and yet all that little whore could give you was some bitch of a daughter. I wouldn’t stand for my heir to be a-” Kyojuro’s vision flashed red, livid anger rising within him in the blink of an eye.

He wasn’t one much for physical violence between humans, but with how this man was acting, he was even less than a demon. Kyojuro’s hand wrapped around the drunkard’s neck, the jug of sake dropping and breaking, splashing alcohol all over his shoes. His eyes were wide and unblinking as he stared at the man, lips in a straight line.

“If you ever speak of my wife or daughter again, in any way, I’ll kill you.” Bringing him closer to his face, his voice turned gravelly, “After all, I’m a big shot demon slayer - all I would have to do is say you were a demon and burn you alive. Nobody would spare a thought about it.”

The man floundered in Kyojuro’s grasp, hands weakly pulling at his as he coughed and choked. “Do I make myself clear?” As the man continued to sputter, Kyojuro’s hand tightened, threatening to crush the man’s throat.

As he nodded, gurgled voice incoherent, Kyojuro dropped him, watching as he crumpled at his feet in the sake soaked dirt. As the man looked up at him, he shuddered as all he could see were Kyojuro’s bright eyes fixated on him, not once having closed or even blinked. “If I ever see you again, you’re dead. Stay out of my way, and stay away from my family. I’ll know.”

With that, Kyojuro turned on his heel and left the alley, stepping back into the clear moonlight. As he took a calming breath, he grinned once more, ruffling his hair as he caught the eye of a stall owner. “Good evening, miss! Do you perhaps have anything for a tired wife who has just given birth to the most beautiful baby girl in the world?”

The lady, flustered by Kyojuro’s good looks and earnest words, forgot all about his dark expression as he walked out of the alley, dismissing it as her imagination. No one paid any mind to the man who went down the alley and didn’t return. Instead, he slunk off into the darkness, hands jittery and mind fogged over with fear.

Once Kyojuro found something for all three of you, he hurried back to his home. Greeting Tengen, whose eyes were mysteriously bloodshot, he smiled as you slept away in the bed. Sitting everything down, Tengen brought Kyojuro his daughter, unpacking the few things for his friend before wrinkling his nose.

“Your dad throw booze on you?” Snorting, Kyojuro took a deep breath, holding his daughter up and kissing her face.

“No. Some drunk in town thought he could badmouth my wife and child, so I showed him what would happen if he ever opened his mouth again.” His words were even, no anger in them, as if he were talking about the weather. Tengen blinked before grinning, clapping Kyojuro on the shoulder that didn’t have his daughter on it.

“Good on ya, tell me what he looks like and I’ll give him a warning, too. Can’t ever be too sure who’s watching, you know?” Tengen grinned, and felt his own anger inside him. He knew how possessive Kyojuro was over you, how he fawned over you, and especially how proud he was of you and now his new child as well.

He wasn’t surprised in the least, eagerly listening to the description of the drunk man who insulted you and his niece. Talking a bit more, Tengen took a bite of the dango Kyojuro brought home, wishing him a good night and then set out. Kyojuro smiled, relaxing and reassured that Tengen would find the man and also rough him up a bit.

Bringing his daughter to you, he set the baby down in her own blankets for tummy time, and quickly stripped himself down, tossing the laundry somewhere else where the smell of sake wouldn’t bother you. Grabbing some dango, he crawled into the blankets, giving another look to his child, before shaking you awake. “Want some sweets, my sweet?”

You laughed softly, not bothering to open your eyes. “Tengen gone?” Kyojuro hummed and you snuggled up to him, “I would love some sweets, maybe even a few kisses as well.” Your eyes cracked open a bit, admiring your husband’s broad shoulders and fit scarred chest.

The flame hashira smiled down at you, nothing but love in his eyes. “Of course, my flame. Anything for you, anything at all. All you need to do,” He kissed your nose, “Is ask.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Mirion Malle’s “So Long Sad Love”

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

In Mirion Malle's So Long Sad Love, a graphic novel from Drawn and Quarterly, we get an all-too-real mystery story: when do you trust the whisper network that carries the fragmentary, elliptical word of shitty men?

https://drawnandquarterly.com/books/so-long-sad-love/

Cleo is a French comics creator who's moved to Montreal, in part to be with Charles, a Quebecois creator who helps her find a place in the city's tight-knit artistic scene. The relationship feels like a good one, with the normal ups and downs, but then Cleo travels to a festival, where she meets Farah, a vivacious and talented fellow artist. They're getting along great…until Farah discovers who Cleo's boyfriend is. Though Farah doesn't say anything, she is visibly flustered and makes her excuses before hurriedly departing.

This kicks off Cleo's hunt for the truth about her boyfriend, a hunt that is complicated by the fact that she's so far from home, that her friends are largely his friends, that he flies off the handle every time she raises the matter, and by her love for him.

There's a term for men like Charles: a "missing stair." "Missing stair" is a metaphor for someone in a social circle who presents some kind of persistent risk to the people around them, who is accommodated rather than confronted:

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

The metaphor goes like this: you're at a party and every time someone asks where the bathroom is, another partygoer directs them to the upper floor and warns them that one of the stairs is missing, and if they don't avoid that tread, they will fall through and be gravely injured. In this metaphor, a whole community of people have tacitly decided to simply accept the risk that someone who is forgetful or new to the scene will fall through the stair – no one has come forward to just fix that stair.

The origins of this term are in BDSM circles, and the canonical "missing stair" is a sexual predator, but from the outset, it's referred to all kinds of people with failings that present some source of frustration or unhappiness to those around them, from shouters to bigots to just someone who won't help do the dishes after a dinner party:

https://pervocracy.blogspot.com/2012/06/missing-stair.html

We all know a few missing stairs, and anyone who's got even a little self-reflexivity must wonder from time to time if they're not also a missing stair, at least to some people in their lives. After all, friendship always entails some accommodation, and doubly so love – as Dan Savage is fond of saying, "There is no person who is 'The One' for you – the best you can hope for is the '0.6' that you can round up to 'The One,' with a lot of work."

And at least some missing stairs aren't born – they're made. Everyone screws up, everyone's got some bad habits, everyone's got some blind spots about what others expect of them and how others perceive us. When the people around us make bad calls about whether to let us skate on our faults and when to confront us, those faults fester and multiply and calcify. This is compounded in long-tenured relationships that begin in our youth, when we are still figuring out our boundaries – the people who we give a pass to when we're young and naive can become a fixture in our lives despite characteristics that, as adults, we wouldn't tolerate in someone who is new to our social scene.

To make all this even more complicated, there's the role that power plays in all this. Many missing stairs are keenly attuned to power dynamics and present a different face to people who have some authority – whether formal or tacit – to sanction them. This is why so many of the outings of #MeToo predators provoked mystified men to say, "Gosh, they never acted that way around me – I had no idea."

These men aren't necessarily clueless. There's a predator who once traveled in my circles, and when he was outed, it wasn't just men who were shocked. My professional and personal life includes a large cohort of socially and professionally powerful women to whom this "missing stair" presented an impeccable face on every occasion. None of the people this guy looked up to ever witnessed his behavior firsthand, and for complicated reasons, none of the lower status (younger, less experienced, and not exclusively female) people whom he preyed upon came to us.

Which brings me back to Cleo and Charles, and the mystery of what Charles did to Farah in art school, many years before. The people in Charles's circle have an explanation: Farah was Charles's first heavy crush, and he courted her in ways that crossed the line into harassment. But – according to Charles's friends – this was a temporary condition that Charles outgrew, and it was only later, when Charles was in a healthier relationship with someone who reciprocated his affections, that Farah retaliated by attacking him to their small art-school circle.

This is just plausible enough – Charles was young, still figuring stuff out, he made a misstep – that Cleo is able to console herself with it. But as Charles grows more irritable and belittling of her, and as Cleo's friends gently encourage her to dig further rather than burying her lingering doubts, a much uglier truth comes into view.

Malle handles this all so deftly, showing how Cleo and her friends all play archetypal roles in the recurrent missing stair dynamic. It's a beautifully told story, full of charm and character, but it's also a kind of forensic re-enactment of a disaster, told from an intermediate distance that's close enough to the action that we can see the looming crisis, but also understand why the people in its midst are steering straight into it.

This transitions into a third act where Cleo leaves Montreal and finds herself in the midst a very different social dynamic of people who have figured out a far healthier way to manage their interpersonal problems. This short conclusion is powerfully satisfying, showing how it's possible to live without missing stairs and without the immediate expulsion of anyone who has a "problematic" moment.

The missing stair phenomenon would be so much easier to deal with if every missing stair started out as an irredeemable monster. We could fix all those stairs and declare ourselves done. But – as Malle illustrates – there's a reason it's so hard to fix those missing stairs. Every good friendship has some give and take – but every missing stair takes too much. Knowing the difference is a skill you learn through hard experience, not one you're born with. Learning when to call someone out, and when to call them in, is a hard curriculum – and it's even harder to know when to keep trying to help the people in your life be better selves, and when to protect the other people in your life from their worst selves.

Malle's book is packed with subtlety and depth, romance and heartbreak, subtext that carries through the dialog (in marvelous translation from the original French by Aleshia Jensen) and the body language in Malle's striking artwork.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/25/missing-stair/#the-fog-of-love