#◤ .Field Tests & Experiments. ◥ Character Study

[erudianokabe]

random ask time! bc phew i haven't sent random asks to my mutuals in wayyy too long - gotta reclaim my brand. if marcel, reiner, eren, had phones, what are 5 images we'd find in their camera roll? 👀

Okay, this one has been in my inbox for quite some time, and I think I do owe an apology for taking so long. I think this is an interesting question especially since their personalities change up quite a bit depending on when we're looking at their phones.

Let me start it off with Marcel.

For Marcel, I wouldn't be surprised if he had baby photos of Porco in there. But I think the five things you'd find in his camera roll would be:

Selfies of him and Porco

A photo of his fellow Warrior Candidates

A step-by-step instruction of something that he knows Porco has trouble with

A scenery that he'd like to share with his brother

A photo of the harbor when they departed from Marley

For Eren, during his scout years, I think that he'd have a few blury stolen shots of Mikasa in there. But he would have it in his delete history and before the thirty days are up, he'll restore it again and delete is again just so no one sees them on his phone. Otherwise, I think he'd have the following on his camera roll:

A photo of the Scouting Legion

A selfie of him, Armin, and Mikasa

A photo of the 104th Battalion

A selfie of Hange and him when he's transformed into the Attack Titan (as snapped by Hange)

A photo of a very VERY clean window pane to put Levi at ease

In his days in Marley, Eren's camera roll would have:

The hospital in Liberio

Different locations around Marley

A photo of Marleyan higher ups (as passed by Zeke)

Blueprints of Liberio (as passed by Zeke)

A stolen photo of Mikasa eating ice cream

Now for Reiner, let's be real that in his camera roll as a scout, he'd probably have a number of stolen shots of Krista. A literal shutter bug if he can find the right time to take it. Some of them has Ymir's hand blocking the view. But otherwise:

A selfie of him, Bertholdt, and Annie who is cut off because she walked out of frame

A stolen picture of Krista when she helps out at the local hospice

A photo of the 104th Battalion

A photo of maps and routes taken by the Scouts

A photo of his mother

Now, when it comes to Reiner going back in Marley, it's a bit more simple. But these are the things that are closest to his heart:

A picture of his mother

A picture of Gabi

A photo of the new Warrior Candidates

Stolen shots of the remaining Warriors

A selfie of him, Bertholdt, and Annie who is cut off because she walked out of frame

[conflictofthemind]

Montauk, The Project Rainbow, and Experiments in Time

It’s fairly common knowledge that Stranger Things is based on Montauk. The unfortunate part is that Montauk has been attributed to another ‘vaguely MK-ULTRA mind control related side project’ and not the big narrative that it is, with details incredibly close to plot points in Stranger Things that resulted in an attempted lawsuit years back. Montauk does not just set the general ‘spooky scientific experiments on kids’ tone for ST - it is the backbone of the whole lore. 

‘The Montauk Project’ Book / Conspiracy explained simply is that the US government unofficially experimented on humans with ‘great psychic ability’ to allow their psychic brain waves to interact with the normal electromagnetic waves of our world. The end goal being manifesting thoughts into reality, and opening up wormholes in time. This would give the military great advantage and potentially control over the outcomes of war. It then turns out the whole narrative of Montauk occurs within a time loop from 1943-1983, when the disappearance of a ship called the USS Eldridge opened up a wormhole which was connected with by a research subject in 1983. The time loop is self-causing - the entire reason the Montauk experiments take place are to further study the events that occurred on this ship, but part of the reason the ship disappears is because of the Montauk Project. Due to all of the other time travel references within the series - trust, we will get into those - this leads me to believe it’s very unlikely there isn’t time travel / a time loop involved. Here I hope to posit the basic information about Montauk/The Philadelphia Project, how the powers work within ST, Will’s clear involvement in all of it, and the time travel element. 

Ahahaha why does that look like a bowl-cut…

Let’s put this out of the way first: the idea that Montauk/Philadelphia is the direct inspiration for the show is not based on flimsy grounds. The original series the Duffers planned to make was going to be an actual retelling of Duncan Cameron’s (think El and Henry - main research subject of Montauk) story. This was later changed to become the story we know today with the characters we know today, although with different names and the title remaining Montauk. Some of the characters had names from Montauk too… like Mr. Clarke being Mr. Nichols. I’ll save that for a later post. The entire design of HNL is based off of the ‘Camp Hero’ / Montauk lab with the iconic banana-shaped radar disk. El’s Void ability comes from the ‘Seeing Eye’ power Duncan has in Montauk, where focusing on a personal item belonging to a person lets him see into their mind. The research subjects’ power is amplified by white noise and a sensory deprivation chamber - again, seen with El. 

The Rainbow Ship and the Electromagnetic Connection:

The Electromagnetic Spectrum is usually mentioned at least a little in every season. Joyce’s magnets falling off, El needing the radio, etc. Lights are another focus, with the kids in the Rainbow Room being tested on how they can manipulate lightbulbs, and the emphasis on lights flickering whenever powerful forces are being used or the Upside Down is interfering with Hawkins. I expect them to really start pushing it in Season 5, and we can already see evidence of this (below: the WSQK Squawk Van). They’re at a radio station, the Middle School kids are learning about light from Scott Clarke most likely, and you can see the abundance of rainbows everywhere. It’s my opinion that rainbows and light are the mechanism in which these gates open, and also when at high enough power, how time can become warped. ‘Project Rainbow’ is another title basically interchangeable with the USS Eldridge and Philadelphia Project. This was because “the mechanism involved was the generation of an incredibly intense magnetic field around the ship, which would cause refraction or bending of light or radar waves around the ship”. However as we remember, this had the unintended effect of teleporting the ship across space-time. In the ST Universe, this results in the Eldridge being teleported to Dimension X temporarily (without a gate being opened).

The eagle shoots out beams of a rainbow which are meant to represent the radio waves being broadcast. 

It’s a commonly asked question as to how Will ‘blinked’ out of that shed without a gate, considering only El was able to open them at that time. The close-up on the lightbulb is the last shot we see before he just vanishes. It’s not just powers interfering with the surrounding electricity; this bending of light is what took him to the UD. But when this happens, it doesn’t result in a gate. I also believe this will end up being the mechanism for the eventual time-travel plot we’ll be seeing. Again in Montauk, there is a ‘time-tunnel’ made between the Eldridge and 1983 Montauk that was caused by the disappearance. My original post investigating this was me hypothesizing that being able to bend light to travel faster than it could result in temporary anomalies that allow one to time travel. 

Anyway, back to the rainbows. Rainbows are one of the most common recurring symbols in Stranger Things. The Rainbow Room exists of course, and there’s a deliberate costuming choice, especially in later seasons with the brighter atmosphere, to have characters wearing rainbow patterned items. Holly’s room is full of rainbows, and there are multiple rainbow props scattered around other locations (Mike’s basement, Erica’s room, etc). Scott Clarke (seriously what is up with him) is introduced in Season 1 doing a lesson on ROYGBIV. The BTS pictures of S5 Hawkins Middle School have him teaching yet another lesson on the visible light spectrum. And space for some reason. This brings us back to the Rainbow Ship.  Now we know the USS Eldridge is a marine ship, not a spaceship. But for the characters who seem to have some connection to it, it is represented as one regardless.

Will drew something representing the USS Eldridge (which it is mentioned was not from a movie i.e. he came up with it using his own memory and mind). The main fixture of Henry’s playground, where a ‘significant’ memory took place also features this representation of the Eldridge. I suspect there might also be a larger reason it took the form of a spaceship, but for now, consider that the ST Universe’s version of aliens are the Demogorgons. And outer space is Dimension X. The ship ‘flew’ to ‘outer space’ (D-X) and encountered ‘aliens’. In Montauk, that is kind of what happens. It’s more metaphorical in Stranger Things. The comic book Henry is obsessed with in TFS is seemingly changed from the real life Captain Midnight who was an airplane pilot, to be an astronaut. I think there is some kind of “alien abduction” theme with both Henry and Will being suddenly transported to another dimension that is alien in itself. Even when the lab scientists enter the UD in the first few seasons, they use hazmat suits that are deliberately similar looking to spacesuits. Stranger Things is a story about UFOs and aliens that also isn’t exactly about UFOs and aliens. 

And then, I’ll mention the weirdest part of this all - Will knows about the Eldridge somehow. And he knew about it before he was ever kidnapped and attached to the hive-mind. 

This is either possible because 1) he was in fact involved in research projects at HNL, and maybe the Project Indigo before the age of 8 like the original “rainbowshipgate” suggests. Or 2), there is an element messing with time in this situation, just like in the original Montauk book series. Montauk is literally named ‘Experiments in Time’. They’ve nabbed Linda Hamilton from Terminator (a movie about time travel) for this final season. They’re referencing a Wrinkle in Time with the Episode 6 title and Holly plot. Then we have everything else involving Henry’s clock theming that hasn’t exactly explained itself yet. Thinking time travel is a far-fetched idea at this point is a bit ridiculous. 

It really depends on how crazy they go with the whole concept. One of the other main characters from Montauk I haven’t mentioned yet is Al Bielek. Al Bielek was the original “whistleblower” who came forward with his story after supposedly recovering his repressed memories of the events. He claims to have been on the crew of the USS Eldridge in a previous life as Edward Cameron, Duncan Cameron’s brother. When he was sent forward in time he ended up staying in 1983 whereas Duncan Cameron was effectively sent back to where he came. Very confusing. But the story is, the man’s a time traveler. 

I do wonder if Al Bielek is loosely the inspiration for Will’s part in the story. Will who has seemingly repressed memories of many points in his life and has been suggested to be a time traveler many times. His name appears on the grandfather clock. He wears Marty McFly’s outfit in the first season. He has knowledge of an event that happened in 1943. He has lines about “seeing into the future” and Mike calls him a time-traveler in the VR Game where the writing staff had access to scripts and a writer from the show. The Upside Down is stuck on “the day of Will’s disappearance” (in the Duffers’ words), though that one probably has a slightly simpler explanation. 

The exact mechanics of how that would work are unclear. Right now, as young as an eight year old Will needs to have the knowledge of the Eldridge - so this isn’t something he will only end up connecting with this season. My theory is that there is a time loop involved, and Will’s actions in the future of Season 5 have him interfere in some way with the 1943 Philadelphia Project / Project Rainbow. The time loop is cyclical and self-causing. Our Will Byers already has a past iteration in yet another timeline where he already went back and tried to interfere with the past (and likely died trying in 1943). Then he is reborn again in 1971, and awakes a very small portion of his past memories of the previous loops. If that doesn’t make sense, I created this handy-but-ugly flowchart to help you out: 

Basically there is no beginning, since the future causes the past and vice versa (a bootstrap paradox). Every Will would then have memories of a past self(selves). The time loop also gets more complicated than this. Did Henry create the mindflayer? It’s presented like that within the show, but let me remind you that shows with heavy mystery elements can and will purposely deceive you. In the First Shadow, Mr. Newby is attacked by the Mindflayer and produces a drawing of the entity - it’s purposely not shown to the audience, but considering the Mindflayer was supposedly just a black mass then why is that? And regardless, in order to have Henry become possessed by it, the Mindflayer was definitely not created by him in 1979. A few have written up theories about this already, I’ll link to my friend's two posts on this element of the time loop.  

I don't have anything else super definitive yet. But I believe wholeheartedly that this is the right direction to search in and I hope we can put more attention on the subject. All of this makes sense, from the military connections they keep pushing in the show, the time travel hints we have been getting, the origin story of Brenner (whose dad died aboard the ship) and the Rainbow Room, everything ties back to the Eldridge events being incredibly incredibly important going forward.

Here's a link where you can read through Montauk Experiments in Time for free.

[doumadono]

A/N: this small thing drew inspiration from a recent conversation I had with my wonderful @indignant-alpaca, delving into the common struggles faced by students across various disciplines. Despite our diverse fields of study, we all encounter similar challenges sooner or later. Drawing from my own experiences, I decided to craft a variation focused on enhancing the learning process, using one of my favorite characters, Bakugo, as a source of inspiration 💣

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

In class

Be actively involved in class discussions and activities. Katsuki would assertively participate, ensuring he grasps concepts firsthand.

Treat each class as a competition to stay engaged. Challenge yourself to excel, just like Bakugo's competitive spirit drives him to be the best hero.

Don't hesitate to ask questions when you're unclear. Katsuki would demand clarity, and you should too! It's a proactive approach to understanding the material.

Observe and analyze the teacher's explanations and demonstrations. Katsuki assesses his opponents' moves; similarly, analyze the "moves" in your lessons for a deeper understanding.

Take dynamic and concise notes. Katsuki strategizes in the heat of battle, and your notes should capture essential information for later review.

Studying

Approach your study sessions with intensity and focus. Katsuki's training is high-intensity, and your studies should match that energy.

Divide your study time into focused blocks for specific subjects. Master each "arc" before moving on to the next, just like Katsuki hones specific skills.

Work on problem-solving exercises regularly. Katsuki tackles various challenges, and you should too. Practical application reinforces theoretical knowledge.

Utilize interactive study methods. Katsuki learns by doing, and hands-on activities or simulations can enhance your understanding of complex topics.

Plan your study sessions strategically, focusing on high-priority subjects during peak concentration times. This approach mirrors Katsuki's tactical approach to hero battles.

Channel your inner hero by immersing yourself completely in the subject matter, just as Katsuki immerses himself in his battles.

Break down complex topics into smaller components for in-depth understanding, similar to how Katsuki analyzes quirks of his opponents to identify their weaknesses.

Learning attitude

Cultivate a hero's mindset. Set ambitious goals and view your studies as a heroic journey toward self-improvement.

Develop resilience in the face of challenges. Katsuki faces setbacks but emerges stronger. Treat academic difficulties as opportunities for growth.

Believe in your capabilities. Katsuki exudes confidence, and a strong belief in your abilities can positively impact your academic performance.

Be flexible in your approach to learning. Katsuki adapts his fighting style, and similarly, adapt your study techniques to different subjects or challenges.

Regularly reflect on your progress. Katsuki analyzes his battles for improvement; evaluate your academic journey to identify areas for growth.

Learning, Bakugo-style, means embracing the fact that doubters will always exist, no matter your achievements. Instead of seeking external validation, channel that energy into mastering your skills and gaining knowledge for your own growth. The focus should be on personal improvement and the satisfaction that comes from overcoming challenges, rather than proving yourself to others.

Periodically review past material to reinforce your knowledge. Katsuki often reflects on his battles to improve his combat strategy. Apply this concept to your studies for a solid foundation.

Test yourself regularly to identify weak points. Katsuki constantly challenges himself in battles to enhance his abilities. Use quizzes to gauge your progress and strengthen areas where you struggle.

Develop mental resilience to overcome setbacks. Katsuki faces defeats but bounces back stronger. Treat failures as stepping stones, learning from them to improve and move forward.

[tinycheesecakedetective]

Character Files #1: Blueberry Milk Cookie

Hello again! It's been a while. Today I'd like to waffle on about Blueberry for a bit. If you'll allow me to. In the past I discussed his trajectory, but I wanted to take the opportunity to update a few things and add some fun details. This post is meant to cover Blueberry's past. What will become of his kingdom will be discussed when I get to the aftermath of the Dark Flour War. Now let's begin! ~~~~~

Personality & Early Life Blueberry Milk is a scholar with a taste for thrill and has an insatiable curiosity. He's kind to others, however he has a tendency to be overdramatic and cocky. He always pushes beyond boundaries despite the consequences or risks it may pose. He's an adventurer specifically because he found traditional studying too boring and would much rather get his hands dirty with experiments. But before Blueberry Milk became the illustrious founder of the republic, he was just a student at the Parfaedia Institute of Magic. Many teachers considered him a prodigy due to his prowess and intelligence, however others dreaded teaching him due to his penchant for troublemaking.

He would graduate at the age of 17, and took on a job as a professor before quitting years later. Many would cite a lack of stakes as one of the reasons for his departure, though that was common knowledge to anyone that was close to him. Blueberry Milk would then become an independent researcher, exploring the world and doing field research.

The Kingdom's Beginnings With months of travelling under his belt, it became very clear that he needed somewhere to store all of his findings. Initially he planned to establish it back at Parfaedia, but found it too stifling for him. So he packed all of his things and began moving north. Some old colleagues heard about this and followed suit, joining him up north in what would be called "The Land of the Studious." Alongside his colleagues, they established The Congregation, a meeting hall where they could all discuss the progress made with each of their projects.

Over time, more cookies heard of this place up north and had began seeking it out to perform their own personal projects. The Land of the Studious became known among Parfaedians as a wizard's getaway, a place where students could perform magic more freely than in the Institute. With the surge of visitors, the Gelato Villas were built for incoming travelers and eventually permanent residents, and the Wafer Train Station was built soon after for easier access to and from Parfaedia, and a new school began construction. As the area expanded more and more, the Land of the Studious had changed from a small community of scientists to a bustling city-state. The Congregation evolved, with the original founders becoming council members and gaining more political power over time. Soon even the name itself had changed, now being known as New Yogurt City.

A City in Crisis As the city developed, Parfaedia began to recognize NYC as a legitimate entity outside of "tourist destination." With competition on the rise, the magic city was forced to evolve to stay relevant. More technology was implemented into daily life as a result, with new experimental magic being tested. It was all going well until everything came screeching to a halt.

The incident happened outside of the institute. It started as a few electrical malfunctions inside some of the classrooms before quickly spreading to the rest of the building. Strange rifts opened inside one of the classrooms before letting in a legion of cake monsters. Even with all wizards pushing back, they were unable to stop the rifts. More appeared, wreaking havoc across the magic city. In a final attempt to get outside help, the wizards looked to the legendary beacons and lit them.

Dozens of wizards saw the lights and answered the call, including Blueberry Milk. With additional backup, they all began to go around the city, fighting the cake armies with staffs and wands. The city lit up with magic spells and potions as the streets were enveloped with smoke. For a moment, it looked like victory was near for the wizards, until the smoke parted with a mighty shriek.

Flying over them was their last and greatest opponent: the roll cake hydra. A horrible beast with cream cheese frosting bleeding through it's teeth and seven heads to boot. While the wizards and townsfolk fought long and hard, it kept coming back harder and more angry. The terrible beast forced them to retreat into the nearby forests.

A Glimmer of Hope Tired and exhausted, the cookies tended to their wounds. Many of them had passed out from spending too much mana, and others didn't know how much longer they could go on. Splitting from the group, Blueberry Milk wandered through the woods. He began flippantly going through spell after spell, trying to find one that could stop this before he never could. In his darkest moment, a voice beckoned to him. He tried to find the source, moving further inside before it spoke again.

It asked him if he was truly determined to save Parfaedia, and he responded with a nod. Sensing his desperation, the voice offered him a deal. It would give him the power he needed to stop the hydra in exchange for defending Earthbread as a whole. With dwindling options, he agreed, and his powers were amplified. Using his newfound strength, he left to face the hydra alone.

The fight was intense. Standing in front of the hydra armed with only his staff, he launched the first blow. Taken aback by the sudden attack, the hydra was struck, backing up before lunging it's heads at the cookie.

Move.

Blueberry Milk jumped out of the way, heart racing as he looked down at his hands. He felt sharper, quicker. The hydra tried again, snapping it's neck at him as it attempted to swallow him whole.

Roll.

His body acted on impulse, rolling away from it before sending a shockwave at the monster's body. A direct hit. A grin curled up onto his face as his teammates returned, mouths agape in shock.

Again.

The fight raged on as Blueberry Milk effortlessly weaved through each attack while dealing blow after heavy blow. More onlookers came, cheering him on as the hydra grew tired and sloppy. Another set of attacks came as he pushed the hydra into a corner.

Once more.

Pouring his remaining mana into his staff, he sent one final attack aimed at the hydra's chest. The hydra, desperate to live, fought back with all it's remaining strength, but it would be of no use. The attack speared through it's chest, pushing it back into a wall before it erupted in a beautiful collage of colors and sounds.

His finest work yet. And one that made him faint. His body was quickly ushered into a recovery room. When he woke up, he found himself surrounded by friends and acquaintances. If he didn't shoo them away, they would have killed him with kindness. He also wouldn't have noticed the gleaming blue gem resting on his chest.

The Aftermath Since the attack, Parfaedia immediately began reconstruction efforts, and with the help of the NYC was able to recover almost completely. After intense discussion and meetings, the two cities agreed to join under one entity as the New Yogurt Republic. The new republic recognized the efforts of the brave wizards that defended Parfaedia as heroes, and Blueberry especially began to grow in popularity. He was eventually appointed as the leader of the republic, with a new and improved council by his side, and with their combined efforts helped to usher in a new golden age for both cities.

For now.

Blueberry Milk, now a wielder of the soul jam of hope, began doing research into how exactly it worked. He knew that it helped him during the fight, but something about it felt.. foreign. But Blueberry wasn't one to give up, and he began to seek out others like him for his research. His curiosity knew no bounds, and he was determined to unlock the secrets of the soul jam.

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Part 4

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Doctor!Reader, other characters x reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

A/N: I hope y’all like this chapter and I apologize if it took long! Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated, I love hearing y’alls thoughts. Don't be afraid to stop by and say hi and if there are any ideas you guys would like to have in this story, just let me know! And as always, I hope you lovelies have a beautiful day! 💜💜💜 Also I apologize if some of the tags don't go through, I make sure to add each and every one of you lovelies but the tagging system here sucks ass.

Story Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Chapter Summary: 🎶Don't be suspicious.🎶

Warnings and notes: language, violence, blood and gore, fluff, angst, slow-burn, mentions of sexual themes

(Quick Disclaimer: I am not a doctor nor have any professional knowledge or experience involving surgical procedures. I am just a student studying in the medical field who has just started taking courses that are more degree-related. So I apologize if some of the stuff may be inaccurate.)

🍂Simon Riley. Simon MOTHERFUCKING Riley. The only man to exist that has managed to accomplish aggravating you in every possible way imaginable. For a woman known to have a great deal of patience, he sure as hell didn’t even need to lift a finger to break that record. Might as well put him in the Guinness Book of World Records for ‘The Most Stubborn Asshole Man Alive’ because you’re pretty sure if you looked up the words stubborn and asshole in a dictionary, his face would pop up.

🍂All you did was help stitch him up from a gunshot wound that could’ve gone way south if not done correctly. And when you tell him to come to you if he has any injures or illnesses because you want to help him, what does he do? What does this asshole of a man do? Insults you! Right to your face! I mean sure it wasn’t a direct insult nor were any of his words particularly insulting, but it was still rude and it offended you.

🍂“Meh don’ bother. I’m a big tough dummy and I eat rocks and tea for breakfast. I don’ need your help.” You mock with a shake of your head and a widened stance, mimicking both the voice and stature of the masked English soldier. The little ‘altercation’ had left you nearly fuming, pushing you to go outside to get some of that chilly night air in order to cool off. “I bet you use Gorilla Glue on all your wounds and call it a day.” You scoff, returning to your original posture. You better pray Ghost isn't lurking around somewhere unless you want your ass beat.

🍂Your dad had always taught you kindness and patience, being the down-to-earth soul he was, but boy was this man absolutely testing the everlasting shit out of you. You almost had to mutter out a small apology in your father’s honor for the obscene and colorful language that fell from your lips. But the more you thought about the absolute 6'4 idiot of a man, the more you became frustrated over it. All that body mass and not a single ounce of a brain. How he has managed to come this far without dying of an infection, you have no clue.

“Hope you like that fucking sour apple Dum-Dum you lollipop thief. You’re lucky I don’t dye your stupid mask pink.” You don't know what came in you in that heated moment but next thing you know you were practically planning your funeral and writing a will of your inheritance for your cat back home. Because if there's one thing you shouldn't do, it's kicking a random metal can just lying around on the street. Let's just say you were fucked because the sound that came out of you was equivalent to the screeching of a dying narwhal. The way the throbbing in your big toe had you clutching the wall and wheezing like a fish reeled right out of the water begging the creator for mercy was enough to produce some sweat out of you. And just your luck, as if the night couldn’t get any worse, Price had heard the noise and went to investigate it. Shouldn't this man have better things to do?

The face you pulled would have risen some concern from your colleagues back at the hospital in the states, a widened smile and pain-filled eyes, and you can’t help but to thank the poorly lit lamp streets for obstructing it. You swear you feel like your head is about to explode from the way you tried to keep it all together. But as Price asked if you were alright, looking over your stiffened and awkward stance, one hand out on the wall and your injured foot crossed over the other, all you could do was nod frantically and let out a wheezed ‘Yup. Finer than frog hair split four ways’. You pray that he doesn’t think you’re constipated or something from the strain in your voice. Coward. I would have faked a fall and had him carry me over the threshold.

Price of course doesn’t get American lingo and has no clue what the fuck you just said but takes it as a yes. Just you wait till he goes back in and tells the others what he heard. The man practically opens up the computer and searches up the phrase that you uttered just to find the meaning, all while the others crowd around. And after scrolling through a bunch of different articles involving different American slang, they collectively decide to learn a bunch of them in order to communicate with you. I lied. Because literally from this day forth, they randomly spit out different words and phrases just to tease your American accent. Actually Soap is the only one who does that………….just Soap.

Anyways……..

When Price finally closes the door behind him, you’re back to gritting your teeth and cursing at the pain in your toe and blaming it for your misfortunes, waiting a couple minutes so as to not run into the captain or the others before hurrying limping back into the building and into your room.

What did I tell ya. Should have just asked for Price to carry you back.

After inspecting your toe as what felt to be broken, you were glad to find out that it was just a grade 1 sprain. As painful as it was, for a successful recovery all it needed was some ice, taping, drugs, and a lot of rest. Rest......right. Like you were gonna get any of that.

Should've just reported it to Price.

Guess you can add one more injury to your list of things that are in the process of healing. The men come back from the mission bloodied and bruised with gunshot wounds, and you…….well you sprain your toe from trying to kick a can of beans or whatever the hell that stupid metal cylinder was filled with.

As if you weren't stressed enough before. Now you had to worry about hiding this tiny injury from the rest of the team to prevent them worrying about you. Also because you don’t want them to start asking questions about how it happened in the first place and find out that a can of beans was the culprit behind it. Hm, sounds a lot like someone else.

When you finally laid in bed that night, drugged out on melatonin and pain killers and wearing an oversized tee and a pair of shorts, you couldn’t stop drumming your fingers against your stomach, your injured foot propped up on a pillow with your big toe wrapped and taped up looking like you borrowed Fred Flintstone’s foot. Now just how were you going to hide that? It’s not like you can just grab a pair of those circus clown shoes or an orthopedic boot or some crutches and hope no one notices. And while you stared up at the ceiling, the drumming of your fingers coming to a stop as you contemplated on the idea while waiting to crash out from the melatonin you took, there is only one thing left that came to mind. So, in one swift motion, you grab the spare pillow closest to you and scream into it. A really long, really shrill scream that would have put the banshees to shame. Yup. You can now say you had officially reached your breaking point.

And what happens when you’re stressed? You have strange dreams, like really strange dreams. I’m talking weird vivid outlandish shit that feel too real kind of dreams. Because when you wake up the next morning, sweat beaded at your forehead, you can only think about the very explicit dream you had last night. The one involving you and the team and a series of very……………how can I say this, rated porn shit. It all felt real, too fucking real, because when you move your legs over to hang off the side of the bed, there’s a tenderness there and well………….everything else that comes with it.

“Yo what the actual fucking shit.” You groan, resting your elbows onto your thighs as you shove your face into your hands and rub at your forehead and cheeks.

How the hell were you going to face the team after waking up from something like that? You could almost paint a picture of the entire sequence as if it just happened, and boy was the image going to be burned into the back of your mind like the searing of a branding iron.

You were embarrassed just thinking about it. Every time you closed your eyes, you were reminded of the way their hands and lips roamed every inch of your body, the way their skin almost burned against yours, the stubble of their facial hair grazing against the sensitive skin that lined your inner thighs and the wetness of their tongues, the sounds of their low grunts and moans that escaped from deep within their chests that mingled with your soft ones as their heated breaths fanned your neck, the sharp smell of metal that paired with the rhythmic swaying of their dog tags as they dangled above you with each movement, and the pulling sensation in the pit of your stomach after reaching your high with each of them.

And then there was Ghost, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, the way he looked you over with disgust while you were on your back when each of them hovered over you. And when he finally stood in front of you, when there seemed to be no one else, glaring down at you from under that mask of his, and uttering one single phrase, 'you harlot of a tart', you woke up. Typical ole Ghost. An asshole in reality and an asshole in dreams.

You needed air, a shower, and a change of clothes, desperately. Price had given you the day off when you finished patching the men up last night. And that is exactly what you were going to do. But first you needed to clean yourself up, preferably with holy water if there was any, and then........well...you needed to get out of this building and get some fresh air because what in the 60s psychedelic orgy was that.

Lazily getting up from your bed, you quickly tie your tangled hair up in a simple bun and slide on a pair of slippers over your fuzzy socks, throwing on your plush Grogu and Mandalorian patterned robe over your sleeping clothes and pulling the hood of your robe over your head to provide extra warmth. Today was a much needed day off after the shit storm that was yesterday. As part of your regular morning routine on the days you didn't work, you grab your other mug that you finally found after rummaging through your things; the one shaped like the head of Kermit the Frog and decide to make yourself a cup of coffee to wake yourself up first and foremost.

Making sure to balance your weight on your uninjured foot, you wobble over to the kitchen, your empty mug in hand and your bottle of pain pills in the other that rattled slightly every time you dragged your feet across the floor. Your eyes tear up as you let out a long and dragged out yawn, squinting in the process which prevents you from seeing just what you were walking into as you place your mug on the countertop with a high-pithed clink.

If you thought today was going to have some mercy on your poor soul........................well you're wrong. Because while you have your back turned to the dining table behind you as you try to start up the coffee machine, you had forgotten that the thing was still broken in the first place, and also the fact that you live with five, now six, other men, and their eyes were now all on you. Girl if you don't turn your ass around-

"Mornin-"

"Sweet baby Jesus!" You nearly jump a foot into the air, spinning around in a frenzy with a wild look to see that the whole crew had been at the dining table the entire time and that you weren’t the only one scared out of their wits.

Did you just say ‘sweet baby Jesus?’ They haven’t heard that one before.

You stare wide-eyed in fright at the men seated at the table, your hair a mess and your heart so close to bursting out of your ribcage you swear you'd have to chase after it as you clutch the counter behind you.

There is an obvious awkward silence in the air as everyone stares at the inharmonious mess that is you and your startled state, curiously eyeing the large Grogu ears that were attached to the sides of the hood of your Star Wars plush robe and your bare calves that peeked out from underneath the hem down to your fuzzy socks that had cats all over it. You're practically following their eyes as they look over to your bottle of pills and your Kermit mug on the counter beside you before looking back at you. Oh to be able to read what went through their heads.

Despite your clashing wardrobe that made him question your taste in attire, there was one thing Ghost had focused on more, one that was obvious to those who knew it, a dainty tattoo of the unmistakable silhouette of a rose along the side of your calf. Was that the same rose off of Depeche Mode's 'Violator' album cover? It sure was, because right in the center of the stem where the rose was cut off, were the words 'violator' in cursive. Be still his heart. Is this man planning a proposal and your entire wedding? He was almost curious to find out what other bands or artists you listened to. Maybe he'll sneak a peek at your playlist-

"Howdy! You eh...........ya look worn slap out......I reckon." Soap smiles, trying to mimic the southern American accent but failing miserably, which only earns a round of groans of agitation at the table as the team roll their eyes. All but König of course, he's just as clueless as you are. He wasn't there when the team were searching up American slang.

You-what? The hell is this man on about?

"Jesus-" Price rolls his eyes at Soap's antics as he goes to take a sip of his coffee.

"......................" You're still mute. Your eyes dart between each of them, your thoughts only replaying the pornographic images of your dream as this sudden irrational fear begins to develop that they might be able to get a glimpse of your thoughts. Make a run for it-

"................Ye awright there wee lass? Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally." Soap's smile drops.

You're lookin a bit what?

"Mate, shut up." Gaz whispers to Soap after noticing your disconcerted expression. It was making him nervous, no doubt, and the fact that you weren't saying anything only made it worse.

The whole team were practically waiting for you to say something, but all you could do was stare. Girl either you say something or just take your clothes off and let them have you right then and there on the dining table, bandaged toe and everything if your dream distracts you that much-

"Guten morgen schatz (good morning love)." König sent a wave in your direction to try to ease the tension only to drop his hand back down after seeing that you did not respond. Poor dude is worried you’ve fallen ill and is practically sitting on the edge of his seat, analyzing every detail of your body language and ready to leap to your rescue in case you show any signs of falling unconscious.

Even Ghost couldn't stop the annoyed sigh/huff that escaped, shaking his head at the uncomfortable and nuisance of a situation as he took a sip of his tea, the motion catching your attention. That is when you first noticed that he had the lower half of his mask lifted up to his nose. Was this the first you had seen of part of his face? You found yourself tracing over the outline of his jaw and the cool-toned, medium blonde stubble the color of pale sand after a storm that lined the skin there, following along the curves of his lips and noticing the small scar that traveled down until his words from your dream echoed in your head, the same lips that said to you 'you harlot of a tart'. And as you lifted your gaze to his eyes, you found them narrowing at you. Shit.

"There's uh.......there's a cuppa coffee for you in the fridge there." Price nods towards the fridge near you, hoping that would snap you out of whatever trance you are in. I mean if you don't want it, I'll take it.

"....................." You had this overwhelming urge to puke and the last thing you wanted was to unload your stomach's contents of microwaved pasta right in front of everyone.

"Eh....estas bien amor? (you alright love?)" Alejandro's words pull you out of your thoughts. Oh what I would give to have this man ask me if I'm alright-

Bitch just say something-

“Блядь (fuck).”

Wha-what? That’s not what I meant-

The men quickly give each other a glance from the side of their eye. Did you just blurt something in Russian?

".................sorry what?” You squint with a scrunch of your nose, pulling the collar of your robe over your braless chest as a faint heat rose to your cheeks, utterly terrified to look them in the eye lest you'd get flashbacks. Should've just made a run for it when you first saw them-

More silence, nonexistent chirping of crickets that makes you want to crawl into a hole and decompose. Then there is the sound of someone slurping. Who-NOW WHO'S SLURPING?

"Sorry." Gaz utters a quick apology, dragging his tongue over his lips as he places his cup of tea down on the table.

"The coffee machine is broken love." Price adds.

"I know that." You state with a blink, startling the men on how quickly you suddenly respond as if nothing happened as you shove your bottle of pills in the pocket of your robe before unplugging the machine from the wall and tucking it under your arm.

The team can't help but watch as you leave the area with your mug in hand and the coffee machine in the other, each of them as confused as the next. What in the-

"What the bloody hell was that?" Price blurts out.

"Don' know. Anyone know what's the matta' with her?" Gaz watches you go with concern in his brow.

"Ah dinnae ken." Soap shrugs as he takes a sip of his coffee. "Ah think some nugget-lavvy-heid meid her up tae high doh."

"Mate," Gaz rubs his face. "English-"

"Ah said." Soap translates. "Ah think some eejit has riled her up."

The way Ghost nearly snaps his head to glare at the Scot. Why does he have a feeling he was talking about him in particular? There's absolutely no fucking way-Wait. The lollie. The fucking sour apple lollie. Was that some kind of an insult?

"Well that's a load of rubbish." Price comments. "If ye ask me, she's just knackered from mending yer sorry arses up."

The way Soap, Alejandro, König, and Ghost glare at him.

"Yeh but......why'd she take the coffee maker?"

"She's prolly gonna give it a fix." Gaz answers Soap's questions with a shrug.

Soap sits back in his seat with a pause, pondering on what Gaz had just said before turning to him with a confused look. ".................but ah thowght she's a doctor."

"Fuckin' hell Soap."

By the time that you return to your room, slamming the door behind you, you're already cussing yourself out for acting the way you did back there. Now they definitely were going to think that something was wrong with you. And if they did, what would you say? That you had a dream y'all were playing multiplayer adult twister? No. HELL NO. You'd almost prefer them to think you were a spy and take you out-and I don't mean take you out as in dinner, I mean take you out as in a firing squad take you out. All the waterboarding and the fingernail-pulling in the world could not pry that info out of you. If only that dream did not affect you as much, if only.

Hm. You know what, maybe Ghost IS to blame in all of this. You only get wacky dreams when you're stressed. After all, he was the one who got under your skin, not Soap, not Gaz, nor Price, definitely not Konig, and not even Alejandro.

There was only one other person who ever managed to get on your nerves the first time you got to know them, only one person who never failed to make you roll your eyes every time they opened their mouth: your ex. But even then, at least the two of you got along no matter the snarky comments you made towards each other. And as annoying as he was at times, he always found a way to bring a smile onto your face no matter how hard you tried to hide it. Ghost on the other hand, well…….he’s something else alright. This man literally has you wanting to rip your own hair out and hike to the Himalayas to seek some kind of therapy yourself.

"God I'm such an idiot." You growl between clenched teeth, tossing the coffee machine into the trash before limping around your room with your hands on your hips. You definitely needed to get out of the building or else you just might go mad. And with the men there who just witnessed you at your most vulnerable and natural self, the last thing you wanted was to be within their vicinity. Changing out of your sleeping pajamas, you threw on an oversized hoodie and a pair of sweats, grabbing one of your beanies and tucking your hair into it before throwing on a pair of sneakers. You’re already cracked out on pain meds so you might as well run a few errands while you're out, as well as grab a new coffee machine because god knows that's the only thing that keeps you sane these days. You’re so caught up in the process of rushing to get the hell out of there that you fail to notice the masked soldier standing right beside your door a foot away.

“Holy fucking-!” You jump in your skin, hand clutching your chest once you notice Ghost leaning against the wall in the same exact stance like in your dream. Jesus fucking Christ. “Ghost! I uh did not see you there. You nearly had me rushing to the hospital for heart failure haha.” You laugh nervously through your teeth, trying to maintain your polite manners as to not anger the contracted killer. What the hell is he doing here and what does he want? Sending the man a polite smile in hopes that he would just go about his business, you pull your keys out of your pocket, the jingling of the metal making up for the extreme silence that filled the dusty air between the two of you.

“………………………”

Jesus fucking christ. He's just standing there isn't he-

"Uh. Can I help you?” You ask, turning to the man who only stared in your direction, as still as an unused puppet. Only he seems to ALWAYS have something up his ass. At least a puppet talks.

Damn that fuckin politeness of yours, Ghost thought to himself. “......................You're bein’ dodgy." He did not like the way you were acting back there. It was as if you were hiding something. And being the person he was, he found it suspicious.

Oh if he were to see the reason behind it. You're pretty sure it would make his mask blush.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You press your lips together, fixating on your keys in your hands as you try to lock your door.

"Your behavior. You're up to something."

Ah yes. Good ole Ghost. Trusting no one but himself, the little shit-

"Says the one standing right outside my room." You mutter to yourself, cursing under your breath at the way you fumbled your keys and were unable to lock your door due to how he glared at you as if you had put salt instead of sugar in the queen's tea. You bet your bottom you probably looked like a shmuck struggling with something as simple as locking the fucking door. If this dumbo doesn't scram-

"Come again?"

This man was really starting to get on one of your last nerves. “What? Didn't anyone ever tell you it’s rude to lurk outside a lady’s door? You can get your ass tased for some shit like that.” You snark before letting out a quick breath of air at finally getting your key in the lock. One step closer to getting the hell out.

There it is, the real you. Ghost almost can't help the way a slight amusement builds within him at watching you get riled up like this, the faintest hairline of a smirk begging to pull at the corner of his mouth. But despite his little fragment of entertainment from the show of emotion he had managed to string out from you, he had to remind himself the real reason he was here. “The hell are you up to?”

“Nunya.”

“Nunya?” Ghost narrows his eyes, not sure what you were getting at and at the same time not liking where this was going. He swears if this is one of your little tricks-

“Nunya damn beeswax that’s what.”

“What-“ Ghost straightens himself off the wall, hands lowered to his sides. Okay now you were just annoying.

“How was the sour apple lollipop?” You remark, not being able to hold back the snide comment that slipped from your lips. You prayed he would get the meaning behind your little 'token of gratitude' from last night.

You should not have said that-

Bitch I’d become a track star in the fraction of a second-

“You-“ Ghost takes a step towards you but stops from the way you whip your head towards him.

“I know you did it, you little burglar. What, you think I wouldn’t notice that some fish-and-chips-eating crackpot was ransacking my lollipop stash?”

Da foq did you just call him? Ghost is stupefied as he stands there blinking at you, hands ever so slightly tensing. How the bloody hell did you find out? Did you know about the apples as well? Please don't know about the apples- And as he tries to open his mouth to say something, you don't even give him a chance.

“You know, for someone that is known to be stealthy and whatnot, you sure do leave a mess of your Sephora eyeshadow everywhere.”

Oh now you’ve definitely popped a nerve.

“What? You gonna stab me?” You quirk a brow at watching him tense up. “Please, be my guest. Just make sure it’s quick and that I’m officially dead so my student debt disappears.”

Bitch don’t give him a reason tf-

Jesus you talk a bloody lot when you’re nervous, Ghost looks at you confused as he cocks his head back. Well he sure didn’t expect that answer. Doesn't change the fact that he's pissed though.

“You know, you should be glad I didn’t write your Skeletor ass up for not only neglecting medical treatment but also stealing my damn treats.”

“Ye’ve got some nerve ye little tosser-“ Ghost grabs you by your upper arm and yanks you to him as he glares down at you.

Your poor toe-

“Ow! Someone outta teach you some manners.” You sputter, surprised from his sudden and forceful movement. And yet, you can’t help but find yourself flustered at being manhandled no matter how much you tried to preserve your vexation towards him. Ohhh, were you attracted to this? Wait, am I attracted to this???? Nah-

“Yer a real pain in the arse you know that.” Ghost can’t help but to roll his eyes, knowing damn well he did not handle you that roughly to begin with, despite your reaction.

But you and I know it’s just your toe-

“Yeah no shit. I’ve been told.” You roll your eyes in a dramatic manner. “But if you wanna be real, you’re like a bad hemorrhoid if we’re being honest.”

Did you just-

“Whot the bloody hell did yuh just call me?” Ghost snarls as he yanks you even closer to him, your chest bumping into his. Did you just call him a fucking hemorrhoid?

The jerky movement elicits a small gasp from your lips, pried right out of your lungs before you glare back at him with as much as you can muster; your jaw clenched, brows drawn together, and your eyes shooting straight up into his even more menacing ones. You try not to think about those nonexistent slander of words he uttered to you. Dream or not, that shit hurt. And as you think back to the dream you had, you were swiftly brought back to the circumstance right in front of you, immediately aware of the lack of distance between the two of you and the way your chest was pressed up against his.

A heat starts to form in the pit of your stomach, slowly making its way from your core and unfurling out to every inch of your skin, like being brushed over with a velvety feather under the warmth of the sun. His grip on your arm is almost revering if it weren't for its threatening nature as you stare up at him, and you swear you could feel the subtlest shift in his fingers through the thick fabric of your hoodie from the way his thumb ever so slightly grazes across. Your sharp gaze softens, admiring the way the sun's rays from the nearby window lit up his lashes like wisps of gold, like the feathers of an oriole bird soaring over the deep brown valleys that resemble his eyes.

He smelled like last night’s whiskey, a hint of the cigarette he smoked this morning, and his cologne that smells of sandalwood and pine trees. It’s almost refreshing. And in this moment, you don’t even care that you literally look like a teenage boy with your hair tucked into your beanie, wearing a pair of converse and your vans baggie hoodie and sweats. There was only one thing on your mind, one thing only.

“Let go of me.” The only words you managed to breathe out.

“Or what?"

“…………..I’ll scream.”

*cue Princess Leia's theme*

Kiss him. *insert Emperor Palpatine voice* Do it-

You found yourself burning for this innate desire, this need for him to push you against the wall and have his way with you, to have him lift the bottom of his mask and feel his lips on yours, traveling down to the angle of your jaw and your neck and just about everywhere there was you, all of you. Simon had noticed this sudden shift in your demeanor, the way your biceps loosened under his fingers through the course fabric of his gloves, the way your lashes fluttered against the ridges and deep ravines of your irises as you stared up at him with a far-off look that yet seemed so close. Were you-no, can't be.

The way you looked under him appeared to lure him in, not to mention your scent, that same perfume that seemed to have dug its claws into him since the moment he first met you. His eyes now lowered to your parted lips as he found himself focusing on their shape and the short shallow breaths that drifted through, wondering about how they'd feel, their softness, their taste. And as his head lowered just the smallest inch towards you, he noticed once more the small circular scar on the side of your neck. Only this time, he was finally able to make out what it was, and it reminded him too much of his own past. How that scar came about to form on your skin, he had no clue. But it was none of his concern, he had to tell himself. Clenching his jaw, Ghost drew himself back, once again returning to that cold and forbidding presence that was there before.

Actually it’s a good thing you didn’t try to score a smooch. You’d probably just get WWE body-slammed-

“Can I go now?” You clear your throat. “I’ve got chickens to tend to and errands to run.”

"What errands?"

"Why? You gonna help me pick out some zucchinis?" You cock your head back. "Now if you could release that lego grip of yours I'd appreciate it."

Ghost lets out a hmph, the only thing he can do despite his frustration as he loosens his grip just as you tear your arm away from him.

“Thank you." You give him a condescending smile before reaching into your tote bag to grab something while Ghost watches you intently, hoping it’s not another lollie. Lies. Y'all know he wants one-

“Here are your blood results by the way since you refused to stop by my office to go over them.” You slap the papers onto his chest, which earns you another glare from him. “So don’t come whining to me when you don’t understand a thing it says on there.” You snark one last time before heading off to the front entrance.

"Oh and another thing." You turn back around. "I'd cut down on the smoking and drinking if I were you."

All Ghost could do was watch you walk off with the slightest stomp in your step before breathing out a “Fuckin h-“

“Goddamn son a bitch.” You grit your teeth, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your hoodie once you step out of the building. You swear that man goes out of his way to annoy the everlasting shit out of you. “Fucking shitbag cumguzzler ass-OH MY GOD!”

You stop suddenly at the sound of a small animal, your eyes wide and mouth hung open as you look towards the ground to see a tiny tabby kitten trotting in your direction from the bushes, it's tail fluffed straight up in the air as it was excited to see you.

“Hi there little guy.” You coo at the small ginger ball of fur making its way towards you before bending down and reaching a hand out. "What're you doing here all by yourself huh?"

The kitten stares at your outstretched hand, giving it a sniff before finally rubbing its head against your palm with its eyes shut. You almost had to bite your tongue from the squeal that just ripped out of your throat. I lied. You did squeal.

“Ahhh omg." Your smiled, your heart swelling at seeing the kitten warm up to you as it came up even closer and lifted its tiny paws to rest up on your bent knees. It was as if you had completely forgotten the mayhem that was today, as if it was just you and this tiny kitten and no one else.

"Oh you’re coming home with me.” You carefully pick up the kitten with both your hands before cradling it against your chest, stroking your tired fingers through its soft and yet dusty fur.

“Mew.” The kitten let out another meow, the small rumbling in his chest vibrating against yours as his pupils widened, nearly blackening out his pale yellow irises as he stared up at you.

“You know what." You gasp. "I shall call you Spot." (Kudos if you know where the name is from.)

“Mew”

“You don't have any siblings hiding out in the bushes ready to jump me and steal my credit cards do ya?"

“Mew.”

“Shit.” You mutter out, your smile dropping as a realization comes to you. How the hell were you going to hide the kitten?

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[violetasteracademic]

On Being a Published Writer: Without a Degree

This is a bit of a vulnerable share today, and I am writing it after a sleepless night, the monster of anxiety and shame weighing heavily on my chest. However, I have come far in life and undergone an incredible amount of healing, and refuse to be ashamed of my past. I hope sharing this can help even one person like me remember that when it comes to craft, when it comes to art, the only thing stopping you from being worthy is you.

This year, I became a published writer. After years of hard work and dedication to my craft, I finally felt good enough to begin submitting my work to literary magazines. I'm proud of that accomplishment. It's a little tag I get to add to my bio now as I submit work that helps make me feel *valid.* But that quickly, all it takes is for someone to remind me that I did not have access to a degree, that I did not learn from the best, and I will spend the rest of my life without a formal education behind my writing, and they achieve the goal they set out: to make me feel less than for not having their background.

In America, the education system is for profit and public school system inconsistent. There are many factors that can contribute to whether or not a person gets through it successfully, and it often has little to do with intelligence, work ethic, or strength of character and drive before the age of 18.

So here is my story:

I graduated high school with a 2.1 GPA.

My first hospitalization (out of the 17 I would have in my life) for edometriomas happened at age 15. I spent the majority of high school struggling with chronic pain, stage four endometriosis and the accompanying endometriomas cysts, and illness. By age 16, social services was threatened by my school to be called on my home for suspected neglect and abuse. I moved out of my house that year, and was given temporary guardianship by a friends family.

By the end of my senior year, I continued to bounce around between friends houses, sometimes sleeping in my car, and struggled to keep on top of my coursework. I was enrolled in the work study program designed for students who had to keep a job during their high school years, and earned school credits for staying employed.

Despite all of this, I still maintained high grades in Advance Placement literature and language, proceeded to get 5's on my AP tests (a perfect score, and a rare accomplishment) as well as near perfect scores on my ACT's. I spent every spare second reading and writing from the moment I learned how. My intelligence and comprehension were not the issue. My health and my home life were.

The only reason I got into college at all was because I decided to audition for a school play freshman year. Much to my surprise, I was cast in the lead role, and thus the course of my life was set. I poured everything I had into acting, I finally had a purpose and something to keep me out of having to go home after school. Still, applying for colleges was one of the most stressful and shame inducing experiences of my life. I got into many top performance programs in the country, then would not get into the university itself with my GPA. The conservatories that did not look into school performance did not provide the financial assistance required for me to attend.

There was one university that offered limited talent admissions that would allow the university admission requirements to be overlooked for students that had displayed exceptional talent in their specialized field of study. I had to put together a request for the school board, complete with letters from my high school teachers providing context for my low GPA paired with high test scores, character assessments on my likely ability to maintain the minimum required GPA in college, as well as a letter from the head of the performing arts department of the university stating that I was worthy of this talent exception. The wait was unbearable. But I was accepted. And I was approved for the work study program that allowed me to gain employment at the university to help offset the cost.

I felt like my whole life had changed in college. I had gotten in. I had gotten out. I was a new person, no one knowing about my past or the stain of my struggles. I had a fresh start. While I continued to battle my illness throughout college, it was manageable with a consistent bed to sleep in every night, as well as access to physical and mental health services. And although I tested out of being required to take any English classes with AP, I still filled my elective credits with writing classes. Screenwriting, playwriting, poetry, creative writing. Performing became my work, and writing became my joy. I took every class that sounded remotely interesting, often filling my schedule more than required on top of my work and performance load.

I am withholding some of the more personal details of my life, but when I finally moved out to LA, I hit the ground running. I accomplished more in a few years than fellow artists and performers who had been out there for more than a decade. And I valued every person I met. I was in small, independent theatre shows with Juliard grads. I was on professional sets with wildly naturally talented people working to get their GED with no formal education but that undeniable *it* factor. People from all walks of life set out for the Angel City to make it, and I was one of them. I also began writing again, this time short films and audition monologues. I began writing pieces for friends and classmates at their request. I secured my first talent agent with a performance piece that I wrote, along with an offer to renegotiate my contract to include literary representation should I complete a script worth shopping. I began to organize applications for writing fellowships at top studios, when my condition became so severe the only option to move forward with my life was surgery. And then my life completely changed again.

I came out of that surgery with nerve damage that left me unable to walk for six months, as well as developed a new permanent nervous system disorder.

My career and my life never recovered. I was permanently changed. However, during that time, I turned one of my sci-fi short films I had written into a 160k word novel, with outlines for a trilogy. While it was one of the darkest times of my life, writing got me through it. I moved out of Los Angeles to a more affordable city and threw myself into writing. I learned that ivy league schools like Stanford, Harvard, and Yale shared their syllabi for continued study coursework online, including the required textbooks for the courses. Example here. I took myself through the textbooks and coursework of top schools, I took every local workshop possible when it was in budget. Any education on craft that was within my means, I reached for.

I will never be able to change the course of my life. I will likely never be able to go back to school. However, this amazing video by Bandon Sanderson helped me overcome my shame, my lack of access to returning to higher education when my life and career were irrevocably changed: Be Anything But an English Major

I had already done what he had encouraged, pick a subject I was passionate about, fill my college coursework with things I found interesting, and let it inform my writing. While this is not to disrespect or degrade English majors or say successful authors think the degree is worthless, I am simply sharing to say this video helped ME combat against English majors who made me feel worthless for not having access to their diploma.

So to anyone feeling insecure today, you do not need a degree in the arts. Whether you want to be an author, an actor, a painter, a fashion designer, a poet. And I say this as someone whose greatest privilege and joy in life was getting a performing arts degree.

We must continue to prioritize art being accessible, value diverse backgrounds, and wish for it to be open and available to all. We must continue to treat art as subjective, and reject ideals that learning from a certain set of paid individuals makes all other opinions, choices, or ideas invalid.

There is no dollar amount I could give to a piece of paper that would make my mind, my intelligence, and my ability to organize and understand words in an impactful way that would make me more valid than I am today. There is no degree that could replace my work ethic, my empathy, my desire to write stories to do good. To give something to the world and help people survive in the ways that I had needed to survive.

Maybe I'll tell this story again one day, and it will help another young person with my background believe there may be more in life than the cards they were dealt. Maybe this will be the first and last time sharing these words. Maybe I'll never get another piece published, but will continue to write fanfic and poetry and prose pieces to share on the internet for free because I believe in my heart it is valuable. To look at myself, and my work, and deem myself worthy of my efforts and passion.

I am proud to be a member of the community of published writers without a degree.

I am even more proud to be a member of online fandoms full of writers, artists, creators, contributors and more who give their free time and energy towards something that does nothing more than make others happy.

So,

to the people who look at the stars and wish.

to the stars who listen— and the dreams that are answered,

this one is for you.

[toxicyeuriii]

hii, could i request medicine pocket or horrorpedia (whichever you think is the most fitting for this) with a reader thats like a victorian era docter. I got this idea because like 98% of the characters are historical in some way and i also really just like history and such :3

Ooh hi anon! I really like this request... and thanks for asking!!!! And honestly this is genius tbh. But anyways, i saw this request before i went to school... so i couldnt really write on it soo... But i did 'study' a little but about Victorian doctors (i searched up what and how they where like and whatever)! Also i picked medpoc for this bc i didnt know how to write this w/ horro! Enjoy!

Warnings - none - medicine pocket x Victorian doctor reader, fanfic, medpoc is unhinged and reader is like 'what the', will probably be not accurate... reader is from the 1800's but then the storm happened so yeah...

☆ -----------------------‐-‐--------------------------- ☆

Your ways of... healing and health are controversial yet mostly effective you could say. Thats what you and medicine pocket have in common. Course, with your time at Laplace did change some of your ways, with less poisons, more anesthesia, and far more knowledge in the medical field, most learned from medicine pocket. Alas, you still cant let go of some of your practices of course! Those years of apprenticeship weren't for nothing!...

In order to course learn more about 'modern' medicine and medical practices, Laplace placed you with Medicine Pocket, which you have learned alot from your time with them, though it included alot of tests with your mineral poisons and such, they have some sort of fixation with testing with it... And so now you are way better at well healing without alot of death, but also with somewhat knowledge about whatever medicine pocket tests on and just shares with you. However, with your time with them, they do show... characteristics of that of a canine, but everytime you say something about it, they just tell you off....

----------

"Y/N-!"

Medicine pocket says while barging into your (newly acquired) medical office, looking quite happy yet smug. Seems like youre in for something, or they want something from you..... Oh well!

"Hm?... What is it?"

you say while continuing to work on filling up all of your medicines for patients, which they are mainly just arcanists from the foundation that got hurt during their line of work. Right now your office is all nice, clean and organized, lets hope that doesnt change....

"I was down at the pharmacy just to pick up a few things, and then I saw some sort of.... broach and it reminded me of you because your all... old fashioned, litterally.... so i took it and now its yours, congrats"

They say while sitting in your chair and kicking their feet up on your desk, like its their bedroom, and throwing the broach to you... Also... did they even pay!?

"Thanks, but didn't you pay the expense for the broach?... If not, you mus-"

"Shush!- I found it and so its mine, but now I gave it to you! Quit nagging-!"

"...."

They are most likely only doing this because they need something.

"What must you want?...."

"Oh wow, you hurt my feeling y/n, it was nothing, but since youre oh so generously asking, i supposeeee i do need something, just a little bit of sharponties for one of my... experiments!"

"I figured so...."

You say while sighing, going to your little bag thats full of necessities, pulling out a 'few' sharponties and handing them to the smug medicine pocket.

"Youre too kind y/n, you deserve a big ol' smoochy, doc"

They say while getting up to pat your shoulder ij a somewhat mocking manner.... or joking? You dont know, they are quite confusing to you sometimes.

"if you suppose so- Wait... What?"

They just chuckle while going to the exit in your office, leaving you dumbfounded.... They are always so forward...

"Oh yeah, come on, i also need you for the tests, i think they'll be quite..... intriguing if you will say....hehe"

"Oh... Alright...? I suppose?.."

You dust off your intricately designed medical attire and put down your things, including the broach, and head towards your door.... This will be something else, but maybe it will be.... intriguing as they said...

☆ -----------------------‐-‐--------------------------- ☆

Sorry if it isnt on point or reader isnt all victorian doctor like... But i did like writing this, so again, thanks for the ask anon! Also sorry if it isnt really all medpoc x reader.... I tried ^°^ But i hoped you liked it! Toodledoo!

[whohasfourthumbsand]

+ Hail from R&D!

+ HELLO, AGAIN! After recent events and a long-overdue transfer, I am proud to announce that I am no-longer working with IPS-N; As of posting, I've officially become the youngest recruit of MSMC's 148th detachment, "Aftermarket Brokers"! My current position is mostly field testing and prototype development, but my specialization remains the same.

+ I am a biomedical engineer studying prosthesis, pilot accomodations, and cybernetic/subaltern maintenance. Over the months of running this Omninet account, I've answered dozens of questions about implant upkeep, cybernetic design, mech repair, and more- I won't pretend to be an expert on anything, but my cybernetic arms are my own design, as are the modifications to my VLAD, "GRAE". For now, most of my experience comes from my time studying on Carina, or operating under IPS-N contract- + Now that I can choose what I want to do, I hardly know what to do with myself--

+ As always, reach out any time with questions on cybernetic, subaltern, or prosthetic care!

( Original pinned post! )

// (@tigersharko) ooc every long post with gray ends up sounding like a resume cover letter- it's just how he talks (and partially how i type)- // updating gray's pinned post after his redesign/transfer, it's interesting to see how the character has grown thusfar!! he's turning 20 pretty soon actually (november 20th) !!!

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

hey, sleepy! hope you’re having a wonderful day :)

If im not mistaken, you were/are studying visual art in college (correct me if i’m wrong), and id be glad to know your opinion about it: would you say that the college helped you to improve your art? (1-10)

im about to finish school and i do want to work with art, yet, im uncertain about colleges and what they will be offering (if the content will be taught by fundamentals to coloring or character design)

tysm! all the best 🩷 keep going w the inktober drawings, they’re amazing

Hello! Hope you have a wonderful day as well!

Okay so yes I did go to visual art college. However, the thing is, I major and got my bachelor degree in "Visual Communication Design" the emphasis being the "Communication" here. So we study communication through visual arts. I learn to not only make art to only be understood by me, but also by everyone else. The lecturers taught psychology, perception, and so much more!

It actually depends on yourself. I personally would categorize the art college experience in 3 categories : PERSONAL, FRIENDSHIP, and LECTURER aspect. (This is my own personal experience in college in Indonesia. Your college and the culture in your country might be different)

PERSONAL ASPECT - Art college will assign you with countless assignments. With hundreds of drawings every year. It depends on me to half-ass it or give it my all. Giving it my all means I study what I'm supposed to be drawing, and work with what I can do and can't do. Say, there's an assignment to make a comic about traditional medicines in Indonesia. I learn to research. What should people who read it know? What's not required. Which one is just additional information? I learn to organize/put hierarchy on information. Now that I know which one is important and which ones don't, I have to convey it through drawings. Now that's the thing I study. On the other hand, I myself developed my own artstyle as the assignments go. You draw SO DAMN MUCH by the second/third year my artstyle has finally gotten established (plus as some of you may know, I also started drawing CoD fanarts as sleepyconfusedpotato in Tumblr around the start of college, so GhostJade also helped me find my own artstyle). So the lecturers don't really TEACH you much about drawing. They give you lessons and assignments so you can learn to draw by yourself. What you need to do is to learn how to study - develop your brain so it's always in constant learning mode.

FRIENDSHIP ASPECT - Art college HUMBLED me. When I was in high school, I was THE art kid of the class, but when I got into art college, I was just a speck of dust! I meet more developed friends and even more experienced friends who've achieved more. HOWEVER, the college experience is to experience it with friends. In Indonesia we tend to do the art assignments together, lend art supplies together, go to cafe's together. Work independently together in a communal way. I learn to ask friends what they think, and what they think should be improved. I can't tell you how much my friends' comments and ideas have broken me out of art block. A second, third, fourth opinion is always a good additional consideration. Because they see our art without knowing what's inside our brain. They're good test screening for audiences.

LECTURER ASPECT - Lecturers are there to GIVE YOU OPPORTUNITIES. Makes you a better thinker, and gives comments about our drawings. They give the final feedbacks. To make use of the lecturers, CHASE THE LECTURERS. Ask them stuff, make their knowledge yours. Another thing is, lecturers are usually famous people/known experts in their fields. Ask them for opportunities. "Sir can I join you in one of your researches?" "Ma'am do you know a good resource/book if I want to learn about this?" "Sir, do you know people from this field that I can contact so I can start working with them? I'm interested in what they do and I think it'd be exciting to work under their guidance." From there, your connection to the art world BEYOND your college will broaden. Your lecturers can even write recommendation letters! You'll get to go to internships in various companies/studios with their recommendations. This can fill up your portfolio and CV for when you've graduated from college. College is first and foremost a Field of Opportunities. Student Exchanges! Researches! Guest Lecturers! The lecturers are your doors towards these things. ----

SO. After I yap so much, I guess the final thing I can say is this : College experience won't be much different if you just stay still and work alone. As much as an introvert I am, I learn to communicate with others, how to befriend people, how to communicate with experts respectfully, etc. I learned that if I want to thrive in art for life, I need to make use of this college experience, make the 4 years I spend in this institution worth my time.

So that's what I can share! Once again, I want to remind that this is my Indonesian college experience. Your college culture might be different, but college is supposed to help you grow.

PHEW I yapped a bit there, but thank you for asking!

[scifimedic]

Hi! I just found your blog and noticed you have some posts where you explain how to write certain medical conditions, and I was wondering - could you perhaps do a post on blood poisoning, please? I am struggling with it a little lol.

I have a character that got stabbed, and I don't know what are the odds they could get blood poisoning and if yes, how fast and generally how it progresses.

If you don’t have time or something, don't sweat it, it's just a silly idea I got lol :D

Episode 4 of SciFiMedic Explains: How do I write sepsis?

Hi Anon!

So, your character got themselves stabbed, huh? Before we get to the nuts and bolts of how this is going to progress, we have to clear up a little choice of words here. 

The term blood poisoning is not the medically correct term for an infection inside the blood- we call it sepsis. Unless you meant literal poison from the weapon (which I can do a follow-up post on, if that’s the case) I’m going to guess that we’re talking about a severe, system-wide infection of the blood. 

Let’s walk through a few options: 

Scenario 1: 

Your character is stabbed in an area with lots of big blood vessels (highlighted red in diagram), and while everyone does all they can, the poor guy quickly dies of blood loss. There’s no time for infection to set in. 

Scenario 2: 

Your character is stabbed in a non-lethal area, like the arms, legs, or shallowly on the gut (highlighted green in diagram) They’re able to bandage themselves up, or maybe someone helps them out and they manage to get the bleeding stopped. 

Unfortunately, 12 hours later, they notice red streaking coming from around the wound. They also: 

Feel freezing cold, but have a high temperature

Are dizzy

Are shivering

Can’t quite catch their breath and feel the need to pant

Throw up

Look pale

These are all signs of the injury going septic, which is when the infection spreads away from the site of the wound and into the bloodstream. It happens fast. From the onset of these symptoms, they can be dead within only 12 hours. 

Here’s what needs to happen for them to survive: 

1: Hospital. No buts, no delay. If you want them to survive, they need advanced medical treatment, detailed below. (I will allow for a field hospital, or a makeshift hospital with a trained professional and plenty of supplies.) 

2: Blood and wound cultures. This means taking a small tube of blood from the arm, rubbing a cotton swab in the wound, and then sending both samples to the lab for study. They will smear the sample on a slide, put it in a warm, wet environment, and wait for it to grow out. Then, they’ll pop it under a microscope and run chemical tests on it to find out what the infection is. This process can take up to 4 days. The good news? The more pathogens that’s in the sample, the faster it will grow out. If you have blood that is severely infected, it could take as little as 12 hours to see results. (I know this from personal experience.) 

If you’re in a field hospital, unfortunately this is a luxury you don’t have. See next step. 

3: IV antibiotics immediately. Since you don’t know the bacteria causing the sepsis, you don’t know which antibiotic to give. Good news, people a lot smarter than I have created a plan for this. 

3a: According to this study done by the National Library of Medicine, 67.9% of people presenting outside a hospital setting had their wounds infected with either Staphylococcus aureus or Pseudomonas aeruginosa.  3b. Thankfully, we have two very strong antibiotics- Vancomycin and Ciprofloxacin- that can each treat these pathogens. Unfortunately, each antibiotic is effective against only one of these pathogens, and nearly useless (or has developed resistance) against the other one!  3c. Good news, these antibiotics can be safely run together. Boom, you’ve just slammed (and it’s a slam- these drugs are horrible for you long term) 67.9% of patients with the right antibiotics to start treating their sepsis.  3d. What about the other 32.1% you may be asking? Good news, they’re not doomed. Just because a given antibiotic isn’t the best choice against a certain pathogen, it doesn't mean it will be completely ineffective. You may be buying them more time for the cultures to come back. You can also take your next best guess, and switch the antibiotics after a few hours if they aren’t having any effect. 

4. Fluids. IV time! The biggest tell that someone has sepsis is that their blood pressure plummets to dangerous levels (which is what will eventually kill them, but we’ll get to that.) In order to prevent that drop, we need to raise the blood pressure by adding more volume to the blood through fluids. They might also need a blood transfusion, depending on how much blood they lost from the initial stab wound. 

It’s important to note that it may not be possible to gain IV access, because when the blood pressure is that low, the veins tend to shrivel up and disappear (not literally.) In that case, your next best option is an IO, which is a needle drilled into the center of the upper arm bone, or lower leg bone. Yes, it hurts. 

5. Vasopressors. Fancy name for medications that force the blood pressure to come up. There are four main pressors: 

Norepinephrine

Epinephrine

Phenylephrine

Vasopressin

They should be added in that order, although this article admits there isn’t too much hard evidence to back this up.

It’s important to note that this is ICU level care, and unless we’re in the middle of the woods, we will have transferred there.

How do you know if it’s time to add another pressor? You’re not getting the results you need- AKA the blood pressure is continuing to stay or fall too low. In the ICU, we use a different measure of blood pressure that most people aren’t as familiar with, called a MAP score. It’s easy, I promise. 

We use this method because it’s more representative of the amount of blood actually getting to the organs- though that is debated quite a bit in various circles. In America however, that’s the way most ICUs do it. 

The ultimate goal for a sepsis case is to have a MAP above 65 mmHg. You can use this calculator to play around with the numbers and see if the blood pressure you’re thinking is within those parameters. If it’s not, time for another pressor. 

At this point, your character is passed out most of the time. They’ve got a high fever, rapid heart beat, and are covered in sweat. They might also have a seizure from the fever and general stress on their body- at the very least they’ll be shaking from the chills. Their skin will be very, very pale, and might look kinda blue or gray in places- kinda like spots. 

6. Hold your breath. No, not literally. But at this point, you’ve done all you can and you have to wait for them to either get better, or get worse. 

If they get better, they’ll slowly start to maintain their own blood pressure, the fever will come down, and they’ll be able to string a coherent sentence together again. Recovery from sepsis can take a long, long time- as many as two to four months in the hospital. It totally depends on the person and how strong they are. The fittest, luckiest patient I’ve seen recover from sepsis was with us in the ICU for three weeks, then spent another month in a step down unit doing various therapies to regain strength. 

However… if we’re looking at failure… well, then it’s time to move onto scenario 3. 

Scenario 3: 

After completing all of the above steps, they end up getting worse. Don’t worry, it’s not your fault- sepsis is fickle and kills fast. At this point, their kidneys are starting to fail from the inadequate blood pressure- you’ll need dialysis for that. They might stop breathing, or be unable to oxygenate their blood properly, then they’ll need a ventilator. At this point, they’re not stable enough to go into surgery anymore, so there’s no hope there. Eventually, the high fever will cause seizures, which will lead very quickly to brain death. As little as 12 hours after the initial dizziness and red streaks, their heart stops and they’re pronounced dead. 

Summary: 

The odds of your character developing sepsis from a non-fatal stab wound without immediate medical care are high- 90% 

If they’re rushed to a hospital, their odds are better- 50%

If they do develop sepsis inside a hospital, they’re likley to survive- only 10.55% of people die of this kind of wound infection.

If they develop sepsis outside a hospital, then it’s almost certain they will die- 99% 

Disclaimer: Although I’m in school to become a medical professional, I’m not one yet. All mistakes are mine, and I’m always open to discussion.

Anon, this was a fun prompt! If this isn’t quite what you were looking for, feel free to submit another ask with more follow up questions!

Everyone else, also feel free to send me an ask, or reblog this (or any SciFiMedicExplains Episode) with a scene you’d like me to help you write!

[dontyoufeelitangel]

BUILD ME UP

Echo - The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A psychology lesson from the medic of the batch turns into a personal experiment. How will Echo react to being your subject?

Tags/Warnings: SFW, mentions of animal testing (nothing graphic), established relationships, kissing, fluff, (I accidentally made Wreck really dumb in the first half, so we’re just going to pretend that’s because he’s tipsy. Sorry wreck!)

Prompt : “Why do you build me up, buttercup baby, just to let me down? - I need you, more than anyone darling. You know that I have from the start. So build me up, buttercup, don’t break my heart.”

A/N: this prompt comes from the bad batch playlist I put together from the song “Build Me Up Buttercup - The Foundations”. This is not a song fic, feel free to check out the playlist! Also, yes the timeline and character appearances in this chapter are messed up and do not follow the original show, shhh it’s fine, we’re gonna ignore it🤫

.

.

.

You joined the batch as their medic right before the rise of the empire and stuck with them through order 66. While you never officially finished your medic schooling, you were qualified. More than qualified actually. You had saved the boys butts on multiple occasions, and when it came to the mental weight of what they’ve been through, you always knew just what to say.

Over time you naturally became great friends with the boys. Each of them were so unique and they had so much personality. They became your home away from home. You seemed to be closer with one more than the others. Echo. He was -biologically- the reg of the group, but his experience and individuality made him as unique as the rest of the batch. It was also what made you fall for him.

Naturally, the two of you became a thing, nothing official but it was very clear the both of you loved each other.

So here you sat, the dim lights of Cid’s parlor reflecting on your glass. Wrecker and Tech were in a game of sabacc. You sat close, shadowing over Techs shoulder watching him play his hand. Light conversation had started between the three of you. The conversation started with the rules of the game and slowly melted into you talking about your unfinished schooling.

“Well I don’t know if I should trust you on the field anymore doc!” Wrecker snorted. The contagiousness of his laughter put a small smile on your face. You were now grinning at him from behind Tech’s shoulder.

“Trust whatever you want big guy, just don’t expect me to save your ass on the field next time” your words laced with playful sarcasm as you sipped on your drink.

“And hey! What’s stopping me from walking over there and giving away your cards to tech!?” A sound between a laugh and a scoff erupted from you as you set your drink down.

Tech only smiled and watched the interaction before speaking up.

“She’s more qualified than you” Tech nodded, putting a card down. His affirmation drew a smile from your lips.

“See! I love to see the support,” you waved your arms at tech before giving him a friendly pat on Tech’s shoulder.

“And it’s not even just about what I can do on the field- I’m knowledgeable in psychology and chemistry too,” you chest puffed in proudness. Wrecker only gave a playful huff,

“You were educated in psychology?” Tech inquired.

“You’re surprised? It IS a requirement for medic schooling” you adjusted your stool slightly to be in the middle of the two boys rather than behind tech.

“Not necessarily surprised, I’m very aware of your capability. It’s just that -as a clone- I personally didn’t take many psychology classes. My studies were more directed towards computer sciences and database management. Then again, I wasn’t taught to specifically specialize in the medical field.” Tech spoke, you only nodded,

“So what you’re saying is, doc is a smarty” the loudness of Wreckers voice could almost throw you off guard, luckily you’ve spent enough time around him to be used to his volume.

You smiled at the statement,

“Of course” you smiled,

“How about a lesson?” You tilted your head toward Wrecker.

“I’m interested” a short response, but very much expected from tech.

You thought about what piece of information you could tell them. Searching your brain for a piece of knowledge the two of them didn’t know.

“A quick lesson on the tooka-bell experiment” you said,

The boys continued playing while you spoke, still listening to what you were saying. Acknowledging your voice by giving short nods,

“The tooka bell experiment was a conditioning experiment in tookas. About how a bell could get a natural reaction out of a tooka.” You started,

“When a tooka is fed, they salivate-“

“Like slobbering!” Wrecker interrupted.

“Yes,” you smiled,

“Like slobbering” you nodded before continuing to your lesson.

“A scientist would ring a bell every time he fed the experimental tooka. The tooka began associating the bell with receiving food. One day, the scientist accidentally rang the bell without having any tooka food prepared. The tooka began to salivate thinking it was going to be fed.” You finished.

“Ah, I get it. It’s a simple process of contidioning a neutral stimulus to get a response” tech nodded grabbing some cards from a deck that was set out on the table.

“Precisely” you have a curt nod, finishing off your drink.

“Uhhh, I don’t think I get it” Wrecker shook his head.

“It’s unconscious learning through repetition. For example: you and omega get mantell mix after every mission. Mantell mix and the end of a mission are two completely unrelated things. But because it’s become a tradition for you and little Omega, it would feel weird not to get the mantel mix at the end of a mission. Does that help big guy?” you gave him a glance followed along with a smile.

“I guess…” he slowly nodded.

The game of sabacc slowly wrapped up. It was quite late, there was a mission tomorrow and everyone had to get a good nights rest.

The cards were neatly put away and the drinks were discarded as the glasses were set to be cleaned.

You said you goodnights to Tech as you turned to say goodbye to Wrecker”

“Hopefully you ain’t doin’ that to us.” He let out a chuckle,

“Doing what?” Your head tilted.

“Training us subconsciously or whatever, I mean, the only dud who’d fall for it is Echo” this time he gave out a real laugh, one straight from his stomach. He ruffled you hair before walking off.

He was right though, Echo would totally fall for it.

Training was a strong word, but hopefully Echo wouldn’t mind. You had a strong plan made up, you grinned to yourself before walking to your own sleeping quarters.

.

The next day was mission day, something about extracting some goo from rocks or something. You really didn’t remember- or care.

Today also marked the day of your experiment.

You found yourself sitting in the front of the marauder, preparing to go into light speed.

“Hey Echo,” your voice soft and sweet, he was unsuspecting.

He let out a small ‘hmm?’ Before looking at you,

“Could I get a kiss before light speed?” You batted your lashes at him, you leaned your weight on the armrest, pushing yourself toward him.

“Of course” he smiled before kissing you.

The kiss was sweet and soft, much like echo himself. Although it didn’t last long, it was romantic and all that you needed in a kiss.

You smiled at him through your lashes before sitting back in your seat properly and jumping to hyper space.

.

The mission went fine, almost like any other. During the mission Echo had told you he ‘wouldn’t mind getting more kisses from you.’

It’s almost like he could read your mind, because for the next five missions you’d always find him right before hyper space and give him a kiss.

You started off by tapping his shoulder and politely asking for one, to just leaning over to him and giving him the kiss.

He never once missed a kiss, who was he to deny your request?

In fact, he must’ve gotten so used to it. For the next handful of missions or marauder trips, he would initiate the kiss right before hyper space.

That was your plan, because after around ten hyper space jumps, giving you a kiss before hand seemed to come natural to him. You had him right where you wanted it.

.

One afternoon before the batch and you were set to return back to ord mantell, you had called Tech and Wrecker to talk to them in the marauder.

“What is it that you required?” Tech asked, setting down his datapad.

“You boys remember the conversation we had a few months ago? About conditioning?” You spoke, mostly directing your question towards Wrecker.

Tech only have a curt nod and Wrecker grumbled something about ‘totally understanding what you were talking about’.

You gave a smile,

“Right, well, You told me Echo would fall for it, yeah?” You nodded your head, smiling while gesturing to Wrecker.

“I guess I did say that,” wrecker rubbed the back of his head, not fully remembering the previous conversation the three of you had.

Tech, who finally started to understand where this conversation was growing shook his head before speaking,

“You didn’t” he said,

“Oh I did,” you were now grinning ear to ear,

“Before we go into light speed, watch what echo does” you laughed, before walking over to the cockpit of the marauder.

.

You were now buckled into your seat, Tech and Wrecker looking into the cockpit for the interaction about to go down.

“Preparing the jump to hyperspace” you announced, putting your attention to some buttons and levers on the control panel.

You were purposely putting your attention away from echo,

As if on queue, echo pointed his head towards you, his eyes still focused on whatever he had had in his hands.

His lips puckered and ready for a kiss,

He sat like that for about five seconds -which doesn’t seem like a long time, but when you’re sitting there, full duck lips, it feels like an eternity-.

You saw his actions from the corner of your eye, still focused on the control panel. You gave a sly smile, attempting to hold in your own giggles.

Echo blinked a few times before realizing you didn’t kiss him, and you weren’t going to.

Heat rushed to his face as he leaned back into his chair,

Maker he must’ve looked so stupid -not to mention desperate- just sitting there with his lips puckered expecting a kiss from you.

He looked around in embarrassment to make sure nobody was watching, upon looking behind him he found two heads peaking into the cockpit.

Tech must’ve only found this slightly amusing because he only gave a smile,

Wrecker on the other hand, burst out into laughter. The sound of Wreckers laughter had let you know the bit was over, you too started laughing.

Echo was unamused and embarrassed. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his face flat, he didn’t find it funny. Your laughter and giggles made him realize that this was your plan all along,

Your giggles died down before you gave him a light pat on the cheek before jumping into hyperspace.

[erudianokabe]

THERE ARE TOO MANY ARTWORKS OF REINER IN THAT DAMN CHAIR WITH A FREAKIN' GUN TO HIS MOUTH.

I'm going to fucking cry. They are all such good artworks tho and I love them, but my feelings. When I first saw that scene... DJFLSJF So help me, I wanted to slap him SO bad.

Anyway, I'd like to thank Falco. If he wasn't there, Reiner's brains might have splattered all over the wall. I say MIGHT because a part of me wants to believe that despite his, at that time, 99.9% need to just kill himself... I think that the .1% miiiiiiight kick in. Again, might. He was already constantly at a really low point (he's good at hiding it, I feel), and remembering his time in Paradis after talking about it with his family just triggered things. Regrets. Feelings... about what a piece of shit he felt he was; not a hero... just a murderer when he realized there were no devils. Just people like him.

I mean, Reiner's a good person through and through. And just because you're good, doesn't mean you're immune from making bad decisions. You can be the smartest dude and still make shitty calls (hi Zeke, ilu bestie). And Reiner's a pretty smart guy specially when it comes to being one step ahead, making plans... based on what he learned in Marley, but mostly because of what he learned through experience... in what he felt would be the best course of action that will keep him alive long enough to get the job done. Because more than success for Marley, again... his need to be a hero, to be respected, came from the fact that he wants to bring his family together again (which failed when his father blatantly said he wanted nothing to do with them), and then to simply just make his mother proud and give her a good life.

We gotta understand that when he made the decision to stay in Paradis, he was a scared, brainwashed kid that didn't know any better apart from the fact that if you fail, you die. And he couldn't die just yet... not without doing anything to make a difference, not when he's hardly at the starting point to his goal. I mean, they got by eight years in Paradis without getting caught. Correspondences sent by him when Annie was in the MP were all done through secret code. Eight years of living with people he believed were demons, eight years of relearning how to live in a society that's less advanced than what they're used to. A lifetime of shouldering the guilt of Marcel's death. Eight years of having to be the leader to their trio because he was the one who made the call to stay. Eight years of carrying the burden of the truth that will continuously eat at him for the rest of his life. Eight years of hate from Annie. Four years and counting when it comes to blaming himself for Annie's capture and Bertolt's death. A lifetime being haunted by the fact that he was never really good enough, that he was just the option so that Porco wouldn't have to die... but he died either way when Eren attacked. A lifetime of blaming himself for the failure at Paradis, and because of what he did, he understands he was part of what caused Eren to turn this way...

And you know what? Despite the fact that he almost committed suicide, almost gave up after saving Falco... he still forced himself to do the right thing. Taking accountability for what he had done, rather than running away via whatever means available. And he could have done it too. He could have just stopped listening, or went back to trying to shoot himself, but he didn't. He could have told Connie and the scouts "no" when they went to him to put an effort to "save" the world. He could have stayed behind like Annie; I'm 100% sure he's just as exhausted from all the fighting. He had 4 years of being Marley's damn shield in the Mid-East Alliance War. He did his best to prove himself and is still continuously doing so. Besides. I think he did his utmost to cling to the armor because he understands the responsibility and the curse of becoming a titan shifter. That's why he was so adamant about Falco taking over him so that Gabi wouldn't. Admittedly, that's a dick move on his part... threatening Falco like that, but he was doing it so that he could save his cousin. That doesn't make it right, of course. But he's just the type of guy to do what he can to stop losing people that he cares about. He's already suffered so much loss. And understands that he can never be forgiven for what he did. He doesn't expect it, doesn't even want the forgiveness... he just wants to atone for what he's done... he doesn't even make excuses for himself, and simply takes it, accepts his faults and works out ways to make things better not for himself but for others.

That's so attractive of him.

Of course, deep down. Even if he doesn't admit to it... I think that he just wants to be accepted and forgiven... but knows he's done too much to ever be granted that. That's why what Jean said, I could see, meant so much to him. The acceptance. That he was still regarded as one of them, as part of the 104th; or what his mother told him at the end when everything was over.

He's so endearing. I love him so much.

Anyway... I ended up gushing again. Sorry. Don't mind me.

[kulemiwrites]

NOVEMBER 3: Masaharu Kaito

The (No)vember Experiment

What’s the longest you and your dreamboat have gone without getting frisky? Are the two of you constantly teeming with insatiable desire? Can’t keep your hands to yourselves for more than a moment? Depending on your answers to any one of those questions, the idea of going an ENTIRE month without chasing “The Big O” may sound like either a breeze, a curse or a blessing in disguise! Wouldn’t you like to find out which? 

That’s right! We at the KW♥️LOVE offices are challenging our readers and their lovers to a month-long experiment to test their self-restraint! Yes, you read that right– AN ENTIRE MONTH without “The Big O”! Think you can handle it? Rip off the October page of that wall calendar, whip out your favorite marker and get to X’ing off the days until you complete(or forfeit) the NOvember experiment!

We encourage all participants to print out the survey we’ve created for the occasion to fill out and give feedback on your experiences! Keep them for your records in case you participate again next NOvember, discard them when the experiment is over or send them in and we’ll include your feedback in next month’s intimacy column!

Rating: 18+ Characters: Masaharu Kaito & GN! Reader A/N: The idea here is that KW♥️LOVE (Sometimes just KW, and broken into sections) is a fictional version of Cosmopolitan. I was feeling nostalgic over the bygone age of the magazine lol. Surveys are filled out by the character. You determine how the reader would answer their own.

READ ON A03

Your interest in KW♥️LOVE initially started as a joke due to their ‘Position of the Week’ column that was quickly made into a meme online. It was meant to be an informative, lighthearted way to encourage readers to spice up their sex lives but the positions, their names and the articles written around them were unironically too hilarious for readers to take seriously. Instead of the team panicking over the newfound, not so positive attention and flipping the script, they seemingly leaned into being the butt of the joke in a way that was charming and endearing, making weekly posts intentionally as entertaining as they were informative. 

It won them a new, devout audience- you, included.

Over the course of the past year, you found you had learned more about healthy sex, romantic intimacy and self-love from the site than you had from field research alone. At this point, you practically swore by them and you could see the fruits of ‘your studies’ when you saw your partner’s wide eyed, gape-mouthed expression when you implemented the latest tips and tricks.

KW♥️LOVE had yet to steer you wrong.

So, when the article you skimmed mentioned downloading some survey cards to partner with the new experiment they were issuing readers, you tapped before you understood the details in their entirety.

You felt the bed sink behind you as Masaharu’s naked body rejoined you after visiting the bathroom to discard the condom he’d just filled. He pressed chaste kisses against your shoulder uttering how amazing that little thing you did with your tongue was and that motivated you to open up the completed download and give it a proper read. 

Your lashes fluttered rapidly when the realization hit you. 

An entire month without sex? How could something like that be beneficial to your sex life? Could either of you even withstand that long?

The columnist listed all the alleged pros and cons of taking up such a challenge and you mulled over every single word, trying so very hard to take them into consideration. 

Pressing a large warm hand to your bare chest, Masaharu pulled you in closer to him and asked what you were looking at in a hushed tone. The warmth of his body, of his breath against your skin, it sent goosebumps down your flesh and made you tingle. You managed a response to his question, attempting to push down the doubt that you stood a chance when something as simple as that had such an effect on your body.

“No sex for a month?” he grumbled, his lips brushing against your skin with every word. “Why the hell would anyone do some shit like that if they can help it?”

You leaned back into him when he idly teased your nipples, solidifying your doubts.

“It… could be interesting,” you said, trying to sound more certain than you actually were. “They say there’s benefits… and stuff.”

“‘And stuff?’” he scoffed, “And you believe them?”

This time you shrugged, allowing your head to fall back, wordlessly inviting him to press those warm lips against your neck and he did.

“I’ve had dry spells for longer than a month,” he said, his gruff voice sending vibrations through your own throat as if he spoke directly into it. “I never noticed any ‘benefits’... I was just horny and pissed off.”

You smiled, reaching your hand up to stroke at his chin strap as he began to kiss you as if trying to rile you up again.

“So, business as usual then?” your playful voice suggested which earned you a crisp smack to the ass.

In an attempt to rid you of the sting, he palmed your ass, “Let me guess. You wanna try this dumb shit now?”

“Maybe a little.”

The large man shifted his hips, and you could feel the twitch of something hard pressing against you.

Again? 

Gripping your jaw, he guided your face so that your lips were but a breath apart. “Fine. November 1st, no sex.”

“Really?”

“Sure,” he answered, pressing a peck against your lips. “We’ve got a couple weeks till then, though. So, we’re gonna have to fuck plenty to get it out of our systems if we’re gonna survive, right?”

Without even giving you a chance to falsely protest, he crashed against you with a hunger that would rival what you were met with just a bit earlier that night and you quickly gave in. 

After all, with the month ahead, you had no time to waste.

(No)vember Experiment Initial Survey Are both of you participating? Yup. Have you ever practiced abstaining from sex for any period of time before? Not on purpose. Do you believe you are capable of completing this experiment? Not really. Do you believe in your partner(s)’ ability to complete this experiment? Maybe since it was ____’s idea. Do you predict a loser? Me, for sure. Initial thoughts on the month ahead? Ready for it to be over already.

Perhaps slowly weaning yourselves off of each other during the days leading up to November 1st was a better idea than feeding your additions to the very end. You were fiends, completely and utterly hooked on one another. The desperation in each of your romps leading up to this was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. Knowing that when he sank into you, it would be one of the last times until a month had passed did something to your psyche. 

Instead of building your resolve, it whittled it down until there was nothing– not even the memory of the agreement. Sex with Masaharu had been good, but the fallacy of pending scarcity heightened it to a degree that was in need of its own study. 

Everything that led you to this moment; your clothes rumpled on your body to expose parts of you, your underwear pooling around your feet, your burning cheek mashed against the long console table just across from the front door, all happened in a flash. All you knew was that your body had begun to perspire from sheer anticipation alone and your breathing– both of yours was heavy, filling the otherwise silence of the entryway. 

Well, that and the sound of Masaharu tearing into a condom wrapper with his teeth in such primal desperation that it made your core ache more than it already had been. You gripped at the sides of the cool table until your fingertips numbed, slowly but sure losing their color by the second. 

The heat radiating off Masaharu’s body was noticeable, even with him standing a few inches behind you. His slacks had been hanging just around his mid-thigh, just low enough for his throbbing hard cock to jut out and over your ass, drooling droplets of pre that was warm coming out of him but cool by the time it dripped onto you. 

That alone was enough to cause your back to bow in a beautiful, deep arch and he cooed at you, imploring you to be just a little more patient with him as he rolled the rubber on. Once it was secure, he leaned over your bent body, pressing a sweet, apologetic kiss against your skin for making you wait so long.

Wrapping his fist around the thick base of his cock, he guided himself to your pleading hole, mouth agape as he panted out his desperation. 

It took him grazing the tip against you ever so slightly for it to all come rushing back and you debated if you even wanted to bring it up. The words tumbled out before you could even rest on a decision.

“W-wait,” you huffed, and you could feel him stiffen instantly. “Weren’t we supposed to… You know, do that no sex thing now?”

It was, after all, November 3rd. 

With each word you spoke, you experienced a regret that only amplified when his long shaky sigh brushed over your damp skin and the heat of his body lessened as he shifted slightly back.

Why did you even bring it up?

Masaharu was quiet for a long moment and the tension between you didn’t give away what he was even thinking. You peeked over your shoulder in an attempt to gauge the situation. 

He’d been gripping the base of his cock with one hand and scratching at the back of his head with the other. A low grown rumbled deep within his chest and you weren’t certain if it was frustration toward you or something else entirely. You wouldn’t have blamed him, though. You’d been teasing him all night and you had ample time before he was moments away from sinking balls deep into you for you to bring this up.

You flinched when he reached for your ass before melting into his touch. He gripped hard at you, spreading your cheeks until you were on embarrassing display for his hungry eyes. The way your hips had begun to wind in response to this bordered on pathetic but you didn’t care, not when his body heat ate at you as he closed back in, caging you against the console table.

His lips grazed against your shoulder as he teased your eager hole with his tip once again, chuckling darkly when filthy whines spilled out of your mouth. 

“All month, right?” he whispered, his usually gravelly voice sounding more like a purr against your ear. “You sure that’s what you want?”

No. 

You didn’t and the aroused heat between your thighs seconded that as you impulsively rocked back into him, to which he responded by pulling away, just enough to avoid giving you what you wanted but remaining close enough to remind you that it was absolutely there. 

“I don’t.” you huffed.

He cupped his hand around the back of your neck, guiding you back down until your cheek squished against the cool wooden table. A full body shudder rippled through you when he finally gave you the head of his cock plus an inch. 

“Don’t I know it.” his voice mocking.

You cooed at the feeling of his stretch, bit by bit reaching further and further into you until he was fully sheathed inside. You cried out a string of expletives and you could feel his lips curl against your skin. 

“Yeah, that feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, but he didn’t need you to respond with a single word to know the answer. 

His greedy, thick fingers dug into your ass and pulled you back to meet his thrusts, each one growing slightly harder than the last. The crack of skin connecting echoed beneath your cries of pleasure as you threw yourself back, selfishly fucking yourself on his cock. He straightened up so that he could watch the event, watch himself be devoured by your tight hole and then he shook his head in disbelief. You genuinely believed for a moment that you could have gone without this for an entire month? He reached around to apply a more direct stimulation. He wouldn’t let you up from that table until he fucked the silly idea out of your head and gave you a couple very satisfying reasons not to lie to yourself like that again.

(No)vember Experiment Conclusion Survey Experiment duration? 2 days. Did this challenge meet your expectations? Sure, I expected not to last. Did you notice anything different about your partner during this time? Just as horny as I am. Maybe more. Will you participate in the (NO)vember Experiment again next year? Hell NO. Any closing remarks on your experience? Losing was worth it. Probably woulda lost sooner if we weren’t so busy

Please do not reupload/repost/rewrite but likes and a reblog go a long way! Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed this, you're welcome to check out more of my work! I have a masterlist to save you browse time!

[justavulcan]

Backgrounds With Class: Izzet Engineer

I'll be honest: Ravnica has always fascinated me. I was a high schooler when the first set came out, and I was immediately consumed creating characters for the setting. Now that we've actually received my long-awaited crossover, I thought it would be nice to write a love letter to the setting in the form of another Backgrounds with Class series. After all: some guilds have natural class choices tied in, from a conceptual standpoint. Boros and Fighter, Izzet and Wizard, Selesnya and Druid. But guilds aren’t class-restricted, and so I wonder what it would look like if you paired every class with every guild background, even the ones that seem at odds, like Izzet and Barbarian, or Gruul and Artificer.  So I thought about it, and this is what I came up with.  Some character concepts for each class, and each Guildmaster's Guide to Ravnica background for each class.

Izzet Engineer

The Izzet Engineer Artificer is a study in contradictions.  Temperamentally, he’s the quintessential vedalken- cool, calm, orderly, and precise.  When it comes to the subject of his work, though, he’s exactly the opposite.  His area of expertise is pyrodynamics, and he specializes in demolitions magic.  When asked about the contradiction, he’s as likely to say that destruction should be no less calculated for maximum efficiency than anything else as he is to crack a rare smile and say simply that it needs to be done.

The Izzet Engineer Barbarian was lab security before his accident, mostly internal in case the mephits or weirds break containment somehow.  Turns out that his chemister employer was experimenting with tri-elemental weird fusions, though, and the massive surge of wild magic that resulted contaminated everyone in the lab that didn’t meet an untimely end.  Now the wild magic is in him, too, triggered by the surge of adrenaline brought on by combat.  Accordingly, and in the spirit of testing the results of the accidental experiment, he’s been involved in a lot more field work lately.

The Izzet Engineer Bard is preoccupied with bringing life to the lifeless.  Motion in general has been an interest of his from gobling on the streets to assistant in the lab, and it’s always fascinated him how the world acts around moving things.  Gifted with a keen sense of timing, he claims to be able to keep the rhythm of the universe, and his ability to magically pull that rhythm to reality is his greatest pride and joy.  If you need someone who knows how to get something somewhere sometime, he’s your man.

The Izzet Engineer Cleric has never been a high-concept member of the League, instead focusing on the materials fabrication.  Attached to things they can work with their hands, they’ve made thousands of miles of piping and scaffolding in their career, and have even supplied housing, capacitors, and other more technical equipment for a variety of projects in the League.  Low-key indispensable and firm in their desire to one day be working with guild-trademark alloys like mizzium, their faith draws from the raw confidence that with the proper tools, and the right material, anything is possible.

The Izzet Engineer Druid is an unusual member of the League in that she hates spending time in the lab.  Bound to a fire elemental companion of her own and planning one day to be a one-woman foreman, her real ambition is to serve as one of the guild’s elementarii.  Weirds and their creation have always fascinated her, and her willingness to field-test anything even remotely related to the topic has made her a popular contractor for testing handheld equipment.

The Izzet Engineer Fighter, like his father and older brothers before him, has always been a dab hand with the crossbow.  The family business is support and assistant work for the chemisters of the Izzet League, and he’s always wanted to be a scorchbringer.  The old man says you always need an edge, so to set himself apart, he’s audited engineering courses at the guild workshops and started making new ammunition for his ‘bow- enhancements of energy and matter, making some truly unique shots possible.  His designs have recently caught one of the lesser magisters’ eye, and now he’s on track to become one of the guild’s best combat engineers and troubleshooters.

The Izzet Engineer Monk was caught in an electro-galvanic storm as a youth and hasn’t been the same since.  Infused with raw elemental energy and adopted by the scientists whose work took the lives of his parents, she spent much of her youth brawling and scrapping on the street until she suddenly- explosively- cut loose with a thunderwave.  Her adoptive parents, hearing of the incident, took her into the Laboratory of Storms and Electricity to see if there’s more to the storm’s changes than her perpetually windblown hair and the crackle of ozone that follows her.

The Izzet Engineer Paladin sees herself one day as not just a scorchbringer, not just a security chief on a project, but the champion of the Izzet League.  She’s not much of an inventor herself, but there’s always room for a strong back and a will to fight in the League, clearing abandoned structures for refurbishment and engaging in one of modern Ravnica’s countless small-scale military action.  The day is coming, she can see, that she sprints into battle bearing the latest and greatest of her League’s tech.

The Izzet Engineer Ranger joined the Izzet combine under unusual circumstances.  A kraul and formerly a farmer in the Undercity, she used to deal with all kinds of run-off from the Izzet laboratories above contaminating her food until one day a weird washed down the pipes.  After putting it down, she went to the laboratory to demand they reroute their sewage, and left hired as the official run-off and chemical waste technician under the League's employment, as well as underground security.  Now, she handles the access tunnels and piping for a network of laboratories, growing increasingly interested in wielding a scorchbringer.

The Izzet Engineer Rogue has a dirty job, for the Izzet League.  Officially on the payment records as an outside consultant, she is one of the League’s idea thieves.  When guildless engineers hit on something the League can use but refuse to sell, she seeks them out and makes sure their designs and experimental materials fall into the hands of someone who can use them.  She doesn’t mind the work; the challenge is nice, and although she has enough technical know-how to make modest progress herself, she is much more comfortable cracking locks and dodging security.

The Izzet Engineer Sorcerer is a natural talent at storm summoning, but when a stray bolt fried their clan’s shaman, they fled the Gruul to take up with the other guild that likes lightning.  Among the Izzet, their talent is looked down upon for the more primitive flavor they bring with it, but none can argue with the results.  As-is, they ended up doing the scut work of keeping maintenance tunnels clean and smoothly running, a dull job with a lot of hands-on ground-level know-how involved.

The Izzet Engineer Warlock has had an unorthodox apprenticeship.  Instead of working with and learning from a chemister or blastseeker, she made a deal when she joined the guild to work under a water djinn.  He gave her a disused segment of water-cooling piping, part-time work at two labs, and a promise of an arcane engineer’s manual in the future.  She’s making the best of it so far, helping with her colleagues’ experiments where she can and faking her way through the rest.

The Izzet Engineer Wizard is, predictably, fascinated by conjuration magic.  Themself a weird brought to life by a magister’s experimental elemental summoning, gifted with an unusual spark of intelligence for elemental plasm, it is small wonder their talents tend toward the calling of things- and, eventually, beings.  Crackling with life and lightning, limber as a stream of molten mizzium, they’re as mercurial in interest and focus as any magister of their guild, a role they hope one day to fulfull.

[ecrivainsolitaire]

Open Art Guild – Testing the boundaries of collective IP ownership

Experimental release: Dr. T’chem’s Office (authorised for personal and commercial use)

I’ll try to keep this brief (you can read the full thesis statement here) but as we all know, intellectual property law is broken. It’s being exploited from every side and art workers are more vulnerable than ever to automation, copyright theft and myriad other unforeseeable forms of theft from the proletariat. We as a collective need to come together and work towards the creation of a better future.

The Open Art Guild is my proposal for the first of many steps towards a far away but necessary goal: the eradication of intellectual property as it pertains to the arts. It’s based on the open source standard and the creative commons, and the goal is for us to start creating a future where we stop thinking of artworks as private property to hoard, and start sharing the responsibilities and the benefits of their creation with the collective. And as I am proposing the idea, I should give the first step.

Which is why I am announcing the release of my short story series, Dr. T’chem’s Office, into the Open Art Guild license. This is an episodic HFY comedy series about the office hours of a sleazy yet well intentioned xenoanthropologist in charge of human integration into the crew of a spaceship, who happens to find them fascinating. You can read the first few instalments here:

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

The basics of the license go as follows: I’m giving any artist permission to use the assets of my artwork (in this case, settings, characters, plot lines and other unique concepts) both for personal use and for commercial use, provided they commit to crediting the original artist, giving away 30% of any profit back to the hands of the collective in the breakdown the guidelines specify, and giving the same license to any works they create derivative from this series. Any artist can join the Guild by remixing existing artworks in its database or voluntarily submitting their own works. For the time being this prototype model will have to rely on the honour system, but I have outlined the basic guidelines for a platform dedicated to facilitating the Guild’s business and income redistribution.

The purpose of this experiment is to test whether this system is financially viable, what modifications it needs, and how to enforce it. It’s also a way to study what the community thinks of this model. To summarise the implications, here are the pros and cons as I see them.

Pros:

- All fan art, spin-offs, third-party merchandise and other forms of adaptation become automatically authorised and monetisable, provided both the original artist and the remixer are active members of the Guild.

- All adaptations are automatically non-exclusive and must give away the same rights as the original, diminishing the incentive for massive corporations to try and scam an artist out of their intellectual property.

- It effectively unionises freelance artists of all fields to balance out negotiations with non Guild entities.

- It encourages artists to continue their output in order to reap the benefits of the Guild, by using the redistribution system as an incentive, instead of the current status quo where artists are actively fighting market forces all by themselves in order to make enough time and resources to work on their craft.

- It provides a safety net where everyone is invested in the continuous welfare of everyone else, giving a sense of class solidarity and facilitating donations and shared resources.

- It motivates artists to invest in each other, as the growth of one means the growth of the whole Guild.

- Eventually, if the project succeeds and the proposed platform comes to exist, it would effectively create a universal basic income for all Guild members, as well as a self sustained legal fund to protect their assets from IP theft by non Guild entities.

- It will give you complete control over whether your art can be used for AI dataset training, on an opt-in, post-by-post basis, so you don’t have to wonder who might be stealing it. If the platform is created, all works whose creators have not authorised to be used for this will have data scrambling features to make sure thieves can’t use them.

Cons:

- It will require all Guild members to permanently renounce to 30% of their profit, in order to build up the funds and distribution system.

- It will have to be built entirely on trust of the collective, at least until a platform can be established, which may take weeks or may take decades depending on lots of unpredictable factors.

- Leaving the Guild will require all artworks shared with the collective to become Creative Commons; once you renounce your right to monopoly of your IP, it’s permanent, no way to go back. This is necessary in order to prevent asset flippers and other forms of IP scabs to join the Guild, extract other people’s assets and then scram.

- Due to banking regulations entirely out of our hands, some artists will have participating in the redistribution. If the platform ever becomes a reality, one of its main goals will be to remedy this immediately.

This proposal requires a high cost, but it provides an invaluable reward. If the system works, it will empower all artists to profit from their work and protect it as a collective. If it doesn’t, all that will have happened is that you will have created a lot of Creative Commons art, which financially isn’t ideal, but artistically is extremely commendable. Even in the worst case scenario, corporations will not be able to hold your art hostage with exclusivity deals. To me, the benefits vastly outweigh the costs, but I do want to emphasise: there will be costs. This is an effort to subvert the entire way art has been monetised since the 1700s. It will require a lot of work, a lot of people, and a lot of time, to make it work. But I believe it can work. If you believe it too, you are welcome to join the Open Art Guild.

Please do read the guidelines for the Guild and the guidelines for the platform before you start creating, and give me whatever feedback you have. If it’s good, if it’s lacking, if I’m overstepping legal boundaries, if you can find loopholes, anything. I tried to make it airtight but I’m not a legal expert. This is not my project, it is a project for the proletariat. Everyone should have a say on what they’re signing on for. And regardless of what you think, share it with all artists you can. This will only work if as many people as possible participate.

Doctor T’chem’s Office’s license

This work has been released under the Open Art Guild license, and has been approved for reuse and adaptation under the following conditions:

For personal, educational and archival use, provided any derivative works also fall under a publicly open license, to all Guild members and non members.

For commercial use, provided redistribution guidelines of the Guild be followed, to all active Guild members.

For commercial use to non Guild members, provided any derivative works also fall under a publicly open license, with the explicit approval of the artist and proper redistribution of profit following the guidelines of the Guild.

For non commercial dataset training of open source generative art technologies, provided the explicit consent of the artist, proper credit and redistribution of profit in its entirety to the Guild.

Shall this work be appropriated by non Guild members without proper authorisation, credit and redistribution of profit, the non Guild entity waives their right to intellectual property over any derivative works, copyrights, trademarks or patents of any sort and cedes it to the Creative Commons, under the 4.0 license, irrevocably and unconditionally, in perpetuity, throughout time and space in the known multiverse. The Guild reserves the right to withhold trade relations with any known infractors for the duration its members deem appropriate, including the reversal of any currently standing contracts and agreements.

[max1461]

To a first approximation, I think philosophy is basically "thinking not (yet) categorized as something else". Maybe this view will piss off everyone. But it's certainly the case that historically, many fields of study started out being considered subfields of philosophy (the natural sciences, logic, psychology... in the Western tradition, everything but math and history, it would seem) before acquiring enough of their own character and/or cultural status to be considered something else.

You can see this as a positive or a negative fact about philosophy, but I think it's basically neutral. Philosophy is what we call it when people are trying to figure something out, but their efforts have not yet acquired a distinct cultural or institutional position, or strongly unique set of characterizing methodologies, or so on. And naturally there are going to be topics like this. Any time you start asking questions that you're not exactly sure how to approach, that's philosophy. Maybe that's not all philosophy is: there are certainly some methodologies more-or-less unique to it. But I contend that they are not characteristic of it. That is to say, they coexist with "hey, I just thought up this question and I'm not sure exactly how to answer it but I'm just gonna start contemplating it, I suppose, and hope I get somewhere".

And it's like... that will always exist! You can stop calling it philosophy, but people will always need to contemplate a bit to answer new questions, whether some more specific methodology presents itself later or not. And this role as a catch-all title for "contemplating things not otherwise categorized" means that I think criticisms of philosophy as an endeavor are sort of uniquely meaningless. Philosophy isn't anything in particular! It's just whatever!

Certainly you can critique philosophy as a set of institutions that presently exist, or you can critique specific schools of thought, or whatever. But... if you're a scientist, you are doing science when you make models and test them, when you are calculating something or running an experiment, or planning for such, etc. But you also have to think about science on a meta-level, just because people always have to think about what they are doing on a meta-level to some degree. And when you do that, you are engaged in the same methodological thing as philosophers of science, although you might not be reading their papers or whatever. To critique this as a general activity seems almost meaningless.

Likewise if you are a mathematician, you think at least somewhat about philosophy of math. You can't not, even if you don't call it that. You have to have some thoughts on, e.g., what mathematical abstractions are, just from looking at them all day every day. If you're a historian you have to think about what constitutes a good historical argument and good historical evidence. If you're an artist you will think about what you want out of your art, what you're making it for. Etc.

I expect objections from both philosophers and decided non-philosophers to this point, but I think it's really essentially correct at its core. Everyone is always doing a little bit of the thing that philosophers do officially, you can't get through life without doing it, and indeed if you take a strong decided position against it you would appear to in that choice be doing it!

This has all been said before. But I do think it's worth saying again.