#and i mean. there were just too many options

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

it's certainly possible there were some "false negatives" so to speak but IMO the fact that students who were able to parse about half the literal meaning of the text were placed in the "competent" category mitigates the fact that it's a somewhat unnatural way to read. in addition... idk if you read the actual specific forms of confusion that the students displayed and the actual quotes where you see them grabbing randomly onto whatever information they deem potentially relevant, but to me - and again, i'm going here on both the study and the way it aligns with things i have previously observed solely in students who struggle with reading - there is a specific pattern of haphazard engagement that to me makes it pretty evident these students would be unlikely to succeed at independently reading this text regardless of how they did it.

i also personally think that while it's unnatural and it may take time... if you can't give a sentence-by-sentence breakdown of what you've read, then IMO no, you didn't really understand the sentences you read, and if you didn't understand the sentences you read, you didn't really understand the passage/book/whatever, even if you're able to glean the large arcs of plot, character, etc. i'm not sure what you mean by "especially verbose text" - in my experience as a reader and when working with students, wordy, complex texts are precisely the texts where attending to sentence-level comprehension is most crucial. it's a strange exercise but if someone were to give me a pop quiz on a book i was reading by asking me to restate the sentence i'd just read and i couldn't do it, i would take that as a cue that i'd been glossing too much to fully understand it and should go back and parse it more carefully. speaking anecdotally, there have actually been times when i've been working with struggling readers and forcing them to "translate" sentence by sentence has improved comprehension - and i have never once encountered a student who understood text better in long stretches than in short ones, at any scale, although i have encountered students whose lack of comprehension at a medium stretch wasn't immediately evident and seemed to me at first to be simply a lack of precision - when it started to become apparent, these students displayed much more significant short-term (sentence-level) failures of comprehension than i had anticipated when i thought they were simply speaking in generalities rather than failing to comprehend specifics.

the facilitators also gave students the option to read silently if they weren't comfortable reading out loud (which i appreciate because i actually am one of those people who loses a lot of comprehension if i have to read aloud lmao)... overall i mean of course it's a single small study at a pair of demographically similar colleges and not definitive proof of anything but i appreciate it not for its shocking numerical results but for the way it qualitatively describes with some imperfect degree of systemization phenomena i have spent many many many hours of my life encountering and thinking about and trying to articulate.

i appreciated this study: "They Can't Read Very Well: A Study of the Reading Comprehension Skills Of English Majors At Two Midwestern Universities"

essentially, a pair of professors set out to test their intuitive sense that students at the college level were struggling with complex text. they recruited 85 students, a mix of english majors and english education majors - so, theoretically, people focusing on literature, and people preparing to teach adolescents how to read literature - and had them read-while-summarizing the first seven paragraphs of dickens's bleak house (or as much as they made it through in the 20 minute session). they provided dictionaries and also said students could use their phones to look up whatever they wanted, including any unfamiliar words or references. they found that the majority of the students - 58%, or 49 out of the 85 students - functionally could not understand dickens at all, and only 5% - a mere 4 out of the 85 students - proved themselves proficient readers (leaving the remaining 38%, or 32 students, as what the study authors deemed "competent" students, most of whom could understand about half the literal meaning - pretty low bar for competence - although a few of whom, they note, did much better than the rest in this group if not quite well enough to be considered proficient).

what i really appreciated about this study was its qualitative descriptions of the challenges and reading behaviors of what the authors call "problematic readers" (that bottom 58%), which resonated strongly with my own experiences of students who struggle with reading. here's their blunt big picture overview of these 49 students:

The majority of these subjects could understand very little of Bleak House and did not have effective reading tactics. All had so much trouble comprehending concrete detail in consecutive clauses and phrases that they could not link the meaning of one sentence to the next. Although it was clear that these subjects did try to use various tactics while they read the passage, they were not able to use those tactics successfully. For example, 43 percent of the problematic readers tried to look up words they did not understand, but only five percent were able to look up the meaning of a word and place it back correctly into a sentence. The subjects frequently looked up a word they did not know, realized that they did not understand the sentence the word had come from, and skipped translating the sentence altogether.

the idea that they had so many trouble with every small piece of a text that they could not connect ideas on a sentence by sentence basis is very familiar to me from teaching and tutoring, as was the habit of thought seen in the example of the student who gloms on to the word "whiskers" in a sea of confusion and guesses incorrectly that a cat is present - struggling readers, in my experience, seem to use familiar nouns as stepping stones in a flood of overwhelm, hopping as best they can from one seemingly familiar image to the next. so was this observation, building off the example of a student who misses the fact that dickens is being figurative when he imagines a megalodon stalking the streets of london:

She first guesses that the dinosaur is just “bones” and then is stuck stating that the bones are “waddling, um, all up the hill” because she can see that Dickens has the dinosaur moving. Because she cannot logically tie the ideas together, she just leaves her interpretation as is and goes on to the next sentence. Like this subject, most of the problematic readers were not concerned if their literal translations of Bleak House were not coherent, so obvious logical errors never seemed to affect them. In fact, none of the readers in this category ever questioned their own interpretations of figures of speech, no matter how irrational the results. Worse, their inability to understand figurative language was constant, even though most of the subjects had spent at least two years in literature classes that discussed figures of speech. Some could correctly identify a figure of speech, and even explain its use in a sentence, but correct responses were inconsistent and haphazard. None of the problematic readers showed any evidence that they could read recursively or fix previous errors in comprehension. They would stick to their reading tactics even if they were unhappy with the results.

i have seen this repeatedly, too - actually i was particularly taken with how similar this is to the behavior of struggling readers at much younger ages - and would summarize the hypothesis i have forged over time as: struggling readers do not expect what they read to make sense. my hypothesis for why this is the case is that their reading deficits were not attended to or remediated adequately early enough, and so, in their formative years - the early to mid elementary grades - they spent a lot of time "reading" things that did not make sense to them - in fact they spent much more time doing this than they ever did reading things that did make sense to them - and so they did not internalize a meaningful subjective sense of what it feels like to actually read things.

like, i've said this before, but the year i taught third grade i had multiple students who told me they loved reading and then when i asked them about a book they were reading revealed that they had absolutely no idea what was going on - on a really basic literal level like "didn't know who said which lines of dialogue" and "couldn't identify which things or characters given pronouns referred to" - and were as best as i could tell sort of constructing their own story along the way using these little bits of things they thought they understood. that's what "reading" was, in their heads. and they were, in the curriculum/model that we used at the private school where i taught, receiving basically no support to clarify that that was not what reading was, nor any instruction that would actually help them with what they needed to do to improve (understand sentences) - and i realized over the course of that year that the master's program that had certified me in teaching elementary school had provided me with very little understanding of how to help these kids (with perhaps the sole exception of the class i took on communications disorders, not because these kids had communications disorders but because that was the only class where we ever talked, even briefly, about things like sentence structures that students may need instruction in and practice with to comprehend independently). when it comes to the literal, basic understanding of a text, the model of reading pedagogy i was taught has about 6 million little "tools" that all boil down to telling kids who functionally can't read to try harder to read. this is not productive, in my experience and opinion, for kids whose maximum effort persistently yields confusion. but things are so dysfunctional all the way up and down the ladder that you can be a senior in college majoring in english without anyone but a pair of professors with a strong work ethic noticing that you can't actually read.

couple other notes:

obviously it's a small study but i'm not sure i see a reason to believe these are particularly outlierish results (ACT scores - an imperfect metric but not a meritless one IMO for reading specifically, where the task mostly really is to read a set of texts written for the educated layperson and answer factual questions about them - were a little bit above the national average)

the study was published last year, but the research was conducted january to april 2015. so there's no pandemic influence, no AI issue - these are millennials who now would span roughly ages 28-32 (i guess it's possible one of the four first-year students was one of the very first members of gen z lol). if you're in your late 20s or early 30s, we are talking about people your age, and whatever the culprit is here, it was happening when you were in school.

i think some people might want to blame this on NCLB but i find this unconvincing for a variety of reasons. first of all, NCLB did not pass because everyone in 2001 agreed that education was super hunky-dory; in fact, the sold a story podcast outlines how an explicit goal of NCLB was to train teachers in systematic phonics instruction, because that was not the norm when NCLB was passed, and an unfortunate outcome was that phonics became politicized in ed world. second, anyone who understands anything about reading should need about ten minutes max to spend some time on standardized test prep and recognize that if your goal is truly to maximize scores... then the vast majority of your instructional time should be spent on improving actual reading skills because you actually can't meaningfully game these tests by "practicing main idea questions" (timothy shanahan addresses this briefly near the top of this post). so i find it very difficult to believe that any school that pivoted to multiple choice drill time in an attempt to boost reading scores was teaching reading effectively pre-NCLB, because no set of competent literacy professionals would think that would work even for the goal of raising test scores. third, NCLB mandated yearly testing in grades 3-8 but only one test year in high school; kansas set its reading and math test year in high school as tenth grade. so theoretically these kids all had two years of sweet sweet freedom from NCLB in which their teachers could have done whatever the fuck they wanted to teach these kids to actually read. the fact that they didn't suggests perhaps there were other problems afoot. fourth, and maybe most saliently for this particular study, the sample text was the first seven paragraphs of a novel - in other words, the exact kind of short incomplete text that NCLB allegedly demanded excessive time spent on. i'm not really sure what universe it makes sense in that students who can't read the first seven paragraphs of a novel would have become much better reader if everything else had been the same but they had been making completely wack associations based on nonsense guesses for all 300 pages instead. (if you read the study it's really clear that for problematic readers, things go off the rails immediately, in a way that a good program targeted at teaching mastery of text of 500 words or less would have done something about.)

all but 3 of the students reported A's and B's in their english classes and, again, 69% of them are juniors and seniors, so like... i mean idk kudos to these professors for being like "hold up can these kids actually read?" but clearly something is wack at the college level too [in 2015] if you can make your way through nearly an entire english major without being able to read the first seven paragraphs of a dickens novel. (once again i really do encourage you to look at the qualitative samples in the study, lest you think i am being uncharitable by summarizing understandable misunderstandings or areas of confusion that may resolve themselves with further exposure to the text as "can't read.") not to mention the fact that most students could not what they had learned in previous or current english classes and when asked to name british and american authors and/or works of the nineteenth century, roughly half the sample at each college could name at most one.

the authors of the study are struck by the fact that students who cannot parse the first 3 sentences of bleak house feel very confident about their ability to read the entire novel, and discover that this seeming disconnect is resolved by the fact that these students seem to conceptualize "reading" as "skimming and then reading sparknotes." i think it's really tempting to Kids These Days this phenomenon (although again these are people who in some cases have now been in the workforce for a decade) and categorize it as laziness or a lack of effort, but i think that there is, as i described above, a real and sincere confusion over what "reading" is in which this makes a certain logical sense because it's not like they have some store of actual reading experiences to compare it to. i also think it's pretty obvious looking at just how wildly severed from actual textual comprehension their readings are that these are not - or at least not entirely - students who could just work harder and master the entirety of bleak house all on their own. like i don't think you get from "charles dickens is describing a bunch of dinosaur bones actually walking the streets of london" to comfortably reading nineteenth century literature by just trying harder. i really just don't (and i say that acknowledging i personally have had students who like... were good readers if i was forcing them to work at it constantly... but i have also had students, including ones getting ready to enter college, who were clearly giving me everything they had and what they had was at the present moment insufficient). i think that speaks to a missing skillset that they don't know are missing, because they don't have any other experience of "reading" to compare it to.

just wanna highlight again that although they don't give the breakdown some of these students are not just english majors but english education majors a.k.a. the high school english teachers of tomorrow. some of them may be teaching high school english right now, in case anyone wishes to consider whether "maybe some high school english teachers can't read the first seven paragraphs of bleak house?" should be kept in mind when we discuss present-day educational ills.

[i-willstealyourtoes]

hcs for spy, scout, n demo with a gn!reader who seems really harmless, silly, just a goober until blurting out something super unhinged/violent but then just like, keeps insistently acting friendly again (intentionally covering up capacity for actual competence by being cute??)

other details can be whatever you want, went with the mercs i thought would be more interesting with this prompt, hope things are fun for u!!!

Ooo yeah this does seem rlly fun!! I hope I did this one justice :) I decided to make it so Reader is some sort of co-worker (but not a merc), and the violent ideas aren't just for jokes >:)

Spy, Scout + Demo with Cute!Violent!Reader

Spy

At first, he didn't really like you that much when he saw how 'silly' you were

Why would he need any more idiots in his life?

But after a little while, he got used to your light-hearted fun, not necessarily hating you, but not really interacting with you either...

That was, until you started saying things.

Like casual promises of intense violence, followed with something of your usual gleeful attitude

Genuinely concerned for you. Are you??? Okay???

He's not sure if you're trying to prank him, if this is some sort of thing Scout set you up to do or you're just insane. He doesn't like any of those options.

But when he notices that the things you say aren't just weird jokes, he actually becomes a bit interested

Is this how you really are? Some kind of blood-thirsty person that hides behind a mask of smiles?

He starts to wonder if you actually act on these gruesome thoughts

So he decides to subtly test things out, intentionally ruining your day from the sidelines, to see if you'll snap

And eventually, you do, throwing a knife at Scout as he shrieks and runs away after having making fun of you one too many times

After that, he actually kind of likes you, especially since you are more capable of things than he initially thought

He might not be your friend, but he doesn't mind talking to you now, and he finds it amusing when people get shocked/scared when you say something bloody

Scout

Scout initially just thinks you're some cute co-worker he can flirt with

But when you start spouting a violent and unhinged suggestion of getting info out of a man, he freezes in partial amounts of disgust and horror (you know that one face he makes when he sees Zhanna and Soldier naked? Yeah.)

For at least a couple days, he's pretty spooked.

Are you always like this? Did you say it to prank him? Was this just a one time thing?

He might not talk to you for a little bit. He won't ignore you, but you can tell he's a little awkward around you from then on

There's a few ways to get him to be normal again.

Either he watches someone else get spooked and finds it funny, or you help him out with something because of your violent nature

Regardless of which one, he quickly realises that your bloodthirsty attitude is just as you as your cute one

It might still throw him off though, but he won't say much other than a "Dayum, chill (Y/n)!"

Other than that, he actually kind of finds it funny watching other strangers get scared if you say something/threaten them

It's free entertainment !!

He is just a little scared of you though... He definitely would not want to get on your bad side.

Demo

Takes a liking to your silly personality, and the two of you quickly become good friends !!

As for your sudden, random violent sayings?

It depends, really.

Either one: he does a double take and stares at you with furrowed brows and widened eyes

Or two: he doesn't react at all and just accepts it immediately

Even if it's the former, at most you get a simple ".....what?" before he eventually recovers and lets the situation go

Regardless, he actually really appreciates your capacity for violence, it means he doesn't feel pressure to steer from gruesome discussion

Originally, he wouldn't have talked to you about how he blew up a guy to pieces, but now he's happy to share all the disgusting details

Especially since you either find it amusing or have some story yourself

In fact, he might even take you to see his work, if you're down for it :)

Imagine: the two of you sitting on some seats watching as some poor unsuspecting opposite team member walks on a sticky and... you know the rest.

You two become a really good pair, not despite the occasional violent behaviors you possess, but because of them !!

The others might think you're a bit creepy, or even be a little scared of how you can switch between the two personalities, but Demo doesn't mind at all !

[sequinsmile-x]

Someone's Mother

The anger is fierce and overwhelming. It’s something she’d only felt once before in another life when she had to kill a little boy to allow him to live. She wonders what it means that the stakes are so much lower this time, that it isn’t a case of morality or life and death, but that it hurts so much more.

AKA the one where Jack brings home a Mother's Day gift, despite conversations Emily and Aaron have had with the school, and Emily is furious.

-x-

Hi besties,

Happy Mother's Day to all those who celebrate it today.

I know today can be a hard day for people, for many different reasons, so please know that I am holding space for those who are struggling and I am thinking of you <3

This turned out a bit differently to how I originally anticipated - as in it's much fluffier than what I thought I would write when I opened my laptop this morning!!

As always, let me know what you think! -x-

Warnings: None

Words: 2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily smiles as her phone chimes in her pocket. She picks it up, taking a moment to look at her wallpaper - a photo of her, Aaron and Jack - before she unlocks it to read the text from her fiancé. 

The meeting didn’t overrun in the end. Packing up to go home. 

She chuckles as she types out her response, looking up from her phone as she hears the bell ring, signalling the end of school. 

I see how it is. Very convenient that the meeting ended just in time for me to do the school run. 

She sinks her teeth into her lower lip when she sees the three little dots appear in the bottom left of the screen. 

I’ll make it up to you.

She laughs outloud, entirely unsure when she’d become this person. When she’d turned into someone who would blush and giggle when the man she loved wasn’t even around, and she shakes her head, typing out one final response as she sees the hordes of kids run out of the school.

That better be a promise, Mr Hotchner. 

“Emily!” 

She looks up and smiles as she sees Jack run towards her, his backpack almost the size of him and another bag hanging from his hand, hidden behind his back as he looks at her with a mix of delight and confusion. 

“Hey sweetie,” she says, ruffling his hair and hugging him as he wraps one arm around her, “How was school?” 

“Fine,” he says, “I thought Dad was picking me up today.”

“He got held up at work,” she replies, turning and leading him towards where she’d parked, “So you’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.” 

“I like being stuck with you.” 

She smiles at him, “I like being stuck with you, too.” 

She still wasn’t used to the normality of the life she had now. She’d say she’d fallen into it, but she hadn’t. She fought for it. She’d died for it, and she hoped she’d never lose sight of that. That she’d always see the beauty in the ordinariness of it all. Even if it did mean doing the school run on Friday afternoons for the foreseeable future, a life with her family, the family she and Aaron were already trying to grow, hope permating everything in their home like the smell of the fresh paint still lingering in the hallway, worth so much more to her than anything else. 

“Want me to carry anything for you?” She asks, and he shakes his head fiercely, happy to walk alongside her, purposely holding the white gift bag that had been behind his back out of her way. 

When he climbs into the back of her car, she finally catches sight of the gift bag despite his attempts to continue hiding it from her, and she realises his handwriting is on the outside. The words ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ written in bright red pen stand out against the plain white card, and she feels a lick of anger burning in her blood. His teacher knew about Haley, and they’d asked to be told about whatever projects there would be for Mother’s Day so they could prewarn Jack. It was a fine balance between not wanting him to be singled out, not reminding his classmates that his mom had died, and giving him the option to do something else if needed. She desperately tries to think about whether they’d been told about it this year, if she’d somehow forgotten in the mix of moving into their new home and planning a wedding, but she’s sure she’d remember. She never forgot anything about Jack. It was something purposeful, something she did for Haley as well as the little boy himself, all too aware that she couldn’t fill the hole in his life but desperate to make sure he knew he was loved. 

She’s tempted to park the car, take him back inside and leave him in the hallway with her phone as a distraction so she can give his teacher a piece of her mind, but it’s something that she has to swallow back down. Something she has to let simmer in her gut, so Jack doesn’t catch on. He carries on talking to her from the back seat, acting as if the bag didn’t exist, while he tells her about his day. Whatever picture his teacher had their class make to mark Mother’s Day barely visible, just the edge of a canvas sticking out of the top. Small splashes of colour that she could see whenever she casts a glance in the rearview mirror, enough to occasionally make her stomach roll with anger. Her hands tight on the steering wheel as she grasps it hard enough to make her skin go bone white as it pulls over her knuckles, her love for the little boy rolling through her like a second pulse. 

She offers to carry the bag into the house for him, but he shakes his head, insistent that he carry it himself as he runs into the house and up the stairs, the gift disappearing with him into his room. As soon as he’s out of sight, she lets the tension settle into her jaw, her teeth clenched as she rolls her neck, her hands tight around her keys as she considers going back to the school. She hears Aaron’s footsteps coming from the kitchen, and she blows out a breath, desperate to calm herself down. 

“Was that blur that just went upstairs Jack?” Aaron asks, “Thanks for going to get him…” he drifts off when she turns to look at him, her outrage painted across her face.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replies, smiling tightly as if she can fool him, as if he can’t read her like like a book, as if he hadn’t studied every page so he could understand her like no one else ever had, like no one else had ever tried to. “We’re a family. It’s what we do.” 

He stares at her a second, waits her out to see if she’ll say anything else, but she doesn’t. He clears his throat and steps towards her, his hands in his pockets as he raises an eyebrow at her and purposely puts himself in her line of sight.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She sniffs and crosses her arms over her chest, her keys still in hand, still not entirely unsure she wasn’t going to head back out, “Nothing.” 

“Em…” 

“He has a Mother’s Day gift with him,” she admits in a whispering shout, still able to remind herself that Jack was only upstairs, even with her irritation getting the better of her. The anger is fierce and overwhelming. It’s something she’d only felt once before in another life when she had to kill a little boy to allow him to live. She wonders what it means that the stakes are so much lower this time, that it isn’t a case of morality or life and death, but that it hurts so much more. The space in her chest that she’d carved out for Aaron and Jack, the space she thinks might have always been their waiting for them, aching as it fills with anger and a sense of protectiveness that she’d call maternal if she didn’t think it would be overstepping. “We’ve told them to give us the heads up so we can talk to him-”

“Em-”

“And I knew Mother’s Day was coming up,” she says, carrying on as if he hadn’t said anything, “And I should have thought about it, but with the move and the wedding planning, it’s just slipped my mind, and I should have known better-”

“Em-”

“But he’s just a little boy, and he doesn’t have a mom.” She’s holding her keys so tightly now that they are sharp against her palm, a throbbing pain she thinks she might deserve. She doesn’t notice Aaron getting closer to her, doesn’t see the smile he’s trying and failing to suppress, and she carries on, getting herself worked up in a way only he and Jack were able to bring out in her. “And Miss Whitmore knows that and she still sent him home with a painting in a Mother’s Day bag he decorated himself,” she finally stops talking long enough to blow out a breath, “I should go back, tell her that this isn’t acceptable-”

“She told me about it,” Aaron says, his words finally registering with her, and she looks at him, her head tilted as she swallows thickly, hurt catching in her throat as she tries and fails to swallow it back down. 

“Oh,” she replies, releasing her grip on her car keys, smiling tightly as she nods, dropping the keys down on the side table. She knew she wasn’t his mom. She knew that, but Aaron usually involved her in things like this, usually let her in on his parenting decisions, asking her for advice and her opinion, so she had let herself forget, allowed herself to get lost in the fantasy of the family she had built around herself. The family she wants to grow and cherish for the rest of her life. “I see. I should go change-”

“He made it for you,” Aaron says, catching her as she tries to slip past him, his arm around her waist as he stops her in place. She looks up at him so quickly he thinks it must hurt, her eyes wide and full of confusion that makes her look adorable, her beauty somehow accentuated by it. 

“Wh…what?” 

“It’s meant to be a surprise,” he says, squeezing her hip, “But I can’t have you spiralling over this until Sunday,” he smiles when she opens her mouth to deny that she was spiralling, but she stops herself, her lips pressed together for a moment as she places her hand over his on her hip. 

“He made it for me?” She asks, her lungs cramped, all the space in her chest taken up by love for the two of them. 

Aaron nods and cups her cheek, runs his thumb back and forth over the slope of her cheekbone, “The teacher spoke to me about it last month, and she said he told her he wanted to make you something this year. So before I spoke to you, I spoke to him, and he said he wanted it to be a surprise.” 

“Oh,” she says, and she clears her throat to try and remove the shake in her voice, “That’s…” she blows out a slow breath, “Why?” 

He chokes on a sound that he thinks was originally supposed to be a laugh, his disbelief turning it into something else. He makes her look at him, only realising then that she’d looked down in an attempt to cover her emotions, her eyes shining with tears she still tried to hide from him from time to time, so unused to having someone she could share everything with that she was still prone to act as if she was facing the world alone. As if he wouldn’t set it all on fire to make sure she was okay.

“Well, in his words, you do everything a mom does for him,” he says, smiling softly when he sees the sharp breath she inhales, sees how it catches on her ribs, “And in my words, it’s because whether you know it or not - you’re an incredible mom, sweetheart. Jack and whoever else may come along are lucky to have you.” He smiles and she leans against him, everything she can’t say - everything she can’t find the words for - said in silence when she hugs him close, her hands fisted in the back of the shirt she’d picked up from the dry cleaner for him just a few days ago. He kisses her temple and runs his hand up and down her back, hugging her back just as fiercely as she was holding him. “You’ll have to act surprised on Sunday,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at her. “He’ll be mad at me if he finds out I told you.” 

“Well, we can’t have that.” She laughs, the sound wet as it catches in her throat, and she nods, resting her forehead against his, “Your secret is safe with me.” 

[nefja]

Okay you find a genie in a bottle - but the genie economy has been on the downturn. Each wish now has a cost incurred. Taking any and all wishes is optional. The standard genie rules apply, i.e. no reanimation, no falling in love, etc

For one wish, all your nails and body hair now regrow twice as fast.

For a second wish, as well as the previous, you will forever be incapable of arriving early to things. You will only ever be late or on time.

For a third wish, as well as previous, Nefja now has the ability to speak but can only do so at full volume. No indoor voice. She still cannot comprehend what is being said to her (outside of the usual taught commands).

How many wishes are you taking? And, if you want to share, whatcha wishing for? :3

I like how your brain works.

One – not that bad, just annoying. I'm a chronic nail biter anyway, so that wouldn't matter much. Body hair’s annoying, but hey, maybe I’ll get a beard out of it? Win-win?

Two – as a German, this should grate my nerves a lot, but as an ADHD-er, this is just my default setting. Late? Me? Never!

Three - you mean my poor little dog has been Americanized?? She can comprehend enough words, it’s scary sometimes, so that plus volume? Congratulations, I now live with a furry megaphone that screams “PLAYTIME??” like it’s a national emergency.

She already stares at me with the intensity of a tax auditor - now she can vocalize her disappointment. Full volume. Whenever she feels like it. No refunds. Buuut to be fair - she is quite quiet for an Icie.

But am I still taking that third wish?

Absolutely.

Because if I’m already late and hairy, I might as well be accompanied by a high-decibel gremlin who occasionally yells “SNACK?!” into the abyss and then stares at me like it was my idea.

And when you hear her scream "MURDER!" while she disembowels yet another stuffed toy, I’ll know her ancestors smile upon her.

I don't even know yet what wishes I'd wish for. The consequences were too entertaining.

[sopping-wet-cat-wizard]

Hmm. Hmmmmm... Hmmmmmmmmmmm....

(Warning, this got long)

It was supposed to be simple, but since when has anything Sophist ever done been simple?

One of his loyal goombas came to him with a problem, and him, being the gracious leader he was, agreed to solve it. They wanted to be noticed by another goomba, and Sophist could tell how smitten they were by the way their eyes shined behind their thick, spiral glasses and how they rambled about how pretty the red ribbon the other goomba owned was.

Love troubles? Okay, definitely not his area of expertise, but how could he let one of his loyal minions down? He'd seen some of Vernias's blessings firsthand, so how hard could it be to imitate something like that?

As he went to work tossing several different vials and various dried ingredients, he briefly let his thoughts wander to his own troubles. The timing was just incredible, really. Maybe some of the goombas were gossiping? Not his concern, though.

What was his concern, however, is how the brew suddenly shifted into a deep red color. Shit, did he add too many gems?

As he rubbed his head in thought, something felt off.

Where'd his energy gem go?

Sophist peered into his cauldron a bit too late.

--

The moment Brent hears the question, he almost wants to laugh. Instead, he just shrugs it off. "Maybe it has a limit."

Sophist, arm deep in the cauldron, laughs mirthlessly at the suggestion. "MaYbE iT hAs a LiMit. i'M bReNt aNd I kNoW tHiNgS."

At that, Brent burst out laughing. "What did you want me to say? I don't know about magic!" He'd ask Vern for advice, but he could still hear the two guys fighting on the other side of the door. They were limited on options, but maybe Sophist could find or make an...antidote? Cure? He still wasn't sure what the hell happened.

Instead, Brent took the time to finally notice Sophist stretching to reach into the bottom of his cauldron. "The fuck are you doing? You didn't get enough of that stuff spilled on you already?"

Sophist rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to get my gem out. If I can...just...ah-ha!"

The moment he felt the smooth texture, he whipped his arm back out, brandishing the (now wet) gem that usually resided in his mask. "Got it! Now, I can-"

He froze, watching Brent look down at his now damp clothes.

Oh, fuck.

Immediately, Sophist started backing away. "Brent, oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"Eevee, it's fine." Brent held his hands up to reassure his friend. Yeah, he was wet, but at least it didn't burn or melt his skin off or anything.

"No, it's not! Now you're cursed, too! And if I get distracted, I'm never gonna figure out how to undo this mess. I was just trying to get my gem back because the damn thing fell in and after that happened and if I want any chance of fixing this I need to, you know, I need to make something just as strong if not stronger than what I just made which might be almost impossible but—"

"Eevee."

Brent's voice cut through Sophist's ramblings, forcing the mage to look up and stare at his friend for a few moments. "What?"

The other could only exasperatedly gesture at himself again. He needed to keep them on track. "How long did it take for the effects to start working?"

Sophist thinks back a few hours ago. "It was pretty instant."

That causes Brent to falter. "What? You don't seem any more brain dead, though."

In turn, Sophist sputters. "Fuck you! My brain is plenty alive!" He pauses, grasping what Brent means. "Oh. It didn't work."

The two stare at each other for a moment. Maybe the potion stopped working after he removed the gem? Sophist doubted that highly.

Brent cleared his throat. "I guess I'm stuck in here, too, now. Anything I can...help with?" Brent seems off kilter, and Sophist isn't quite sure why.

To be fair, Sophist is also confused. Shouldn't this amplify the feelings he already had for Brent?

He paused.

Was it possible? Nah, it was probably some other reason.

Sophist quickly went to work gathering a few ingredients from his shelves. He realized he never answered Brent, so he quickly sputtered out, "Y-Yeah. Grab me the herbs from the shelf behind you and some bowls."

All in all, it didn't take that long to come up with a solution. He settled on making a salve to neutralize the effects along with a spell that would let him see any surface the potion had touched. The moment he set his eyes aglow, he quickly went to work spreading the salve across his workspace (he made sure to drop a dollop of the salve into his cauldron and give that time to dissolve).

He practically lathered himself in the salve, deciding he'd rather just cover himself than have to use a mirror and coordinate with Brent. That did leave one final problem, though.

Sophist was going to have to spread the salve on Brent, up close and personal.

Even from here, he could see a glow on his arms. Thankfully, no spot seemed particularly invasive (he should've just made more salve, but that's what he gets for being wasteful on himself instead of trying to more sparing), so he stepped forward and cleared his throat to get the other's attention. "Hey. H-Hold still."

Sophist quickly went to work dabbing little spots of salve on Brent's clothes and hands, also rolling up his sleeves to check to make sure the potion hasn't bled through.

Brent...had no idea Sophist could be so meticulous. Brent also had no idea that Sophist was using it as an excuse to avoid eye contact until the mage stepped back and still refused to look him in the eye.

Sophist was going to lose his mind. Whatever higher being was watching him really had a sick sense of humor. He hadn't noticed it when he was on the other side of the room, but closer, he could spot the glowing flecks resting on Brent's cheek, highlighted from his vision. Deciding to get it over with, he pulled a cloth from his pocket, spread a small bit of salve on it, and moved back into Brent's personal space. "You've got some on your cheek. Let me get it."

The air became still as Sophist leaned in, gently brushing his friend's cheek until the glow slowly faded. As it did, Sophist let a relieved smile finally make his way onto his face. It was one thing to get himself into trouble, but to drag Brent down with him—

Whatever self-deprecating train of thought Sophist nearly tumbled down was immediately swallowed by Brent's lips.

The kiss was brief, maybe only a second, but even that was dizzying for Sophist. As Brent pulled back, he smiled as he watched Sophist bring a hand to his own lips in what looked like confusion.

Sophist's gaze met his eyes. "I thought...you said it didn't work." Had he missed a spot?

Brent laughed. "It didn't. It probably doesn't work if you already have feelings."

Sophist blinked. So that's why he wasn't affected when Brent got splashed. "...oh."

Brent howled once more.

Epilogue:

"You idiots! Messing around with love magic?! You're lucky your own army didn't try to kidnap you!"

"Oh, no, they tried. It's almost scary what my goombas can do when they work together."

"I don't get it, though. Why wasn't Brent affected?"

"Because the potion Sophist made only makes love. It's not gonna do anything if love is already there."

"...what a cringe way to find out you have feelings, bro."

"Shut up!"/"Shut up!"

(source by @under-the-ground-fanfics)

This totally reminded me of a silly little idea I had of Sophist horribly messing up a spell and accidentally inflicting a love charm on himself that makes everyone who sees him fall in love with him.

Cue Sophist running away from his own army of goombas and even having to hide from some of the guys...except for Brent for some reason. Guess the charm can't work on someone who's already in love.

[kanerallels]

Feeling a range of Schmidt-like rage in this downstairs living room tonight

[tumblweeds-omegaverse]

random omegaverse thought:

There must be people who experience specific instinct things with indifference or boredom.

Procreative cycle coming up? "Crap, I've got plans this weekend...stupid skip weeks."

Caught an intriguing scent while walking? "But I need to get to work! Shut up brain."

Had a snap response to a distressed sound? "Who was it?! ...right, it's my day off, I can go back to sleep."

Somebody growled at them? "Kid, I'm not a rival, that's my sibling."

Super cozy cuddle session happening nearby? "I'm gonna pass tonight guys, no social battery left, maybe next time."

Group of friends heading out to flirt and check out other singles? "I'm coming with you but only to make sure you all get home safe."

Setting where fated mates or soul bonds or permanent marks are a thing? "Meh. I don't really want one or care if I ever get one."

People in the actual omegaverse would get as bored of their stuff, as we do of ours, you know? It could be interesting to see that kind of vibe in fics. Biological demands faced with all the excitement of paying bills or doing laundry or tying your shoes.

Even if that kind of energy might not drive a plot, it could be interesting to have as a contrast to the people who do have big feelings about them - good or bad.

There's the friends who can't wait til they have a pack of their own, and the one friend who isn't against it but couldn't care less. There's the group in the office who are all about scent compatibility tests and figuring out one's best match and what sprays most highlight it, and the coworker who has no intentions on putting that much effort in. There are parents who hover and protect their offspring by scenting them multiple times a day, and others who don't see what the fuss is as long as it's done in the morning.

...also: packs with introverts who show care by giving each other space. So often, closeness is depicted through physical touch and tactile affection, but comfortable silence is meaningful too. Knowing people are near, but not having to interact until you're ready. Sitting in the same room doing different things, knowing that all it takes is a "hey, look at this" to share what you're up to. People understanding and accepting each other's differing or fluctuating needs for how and when to recharge. Seeing somebody reaching out or sharing space, beyond what's their norm, as a signal of the fact that they care.

[dannielricciardo]

i was not gonna chime in on this because i thought it would be weird and parasocial but whatever. i think we are witnessing in real time what happens when there's a targeted campaign against you that erodes your self perception to nothing. when you think about it, daniel has always been confident, fearless, self assured in the sport. he was in the trenches during the mclaren era, but STILL he wanted to stay in the sport. and then 2024 happened. so many people piled up on him and no one was his lifeline within the sport bar max, who according to daniel himself is the only person who reached out. then he was holding his promotion in his hand, until he wasnt, until he was unceremoniously dropped out of the sport.

now, with the revisionist history we currently have, of course people are saying daniel was the correct choice, but back then it was all "no, you are not that good, you never were, we are better off without you". inevitably, in time, you start doubting and thinking "i am one person against hundreds saying the same. maybe im wrong. maybe they are right and i am wrong. maybe they are seeing something i am not." and it can be soul crushing and spirit destroying. we saw it in DTS. he asks the question now. he thinks about his age now. in a sport that currently has a 40 year old man trying for a record breaking championship and a 43 year old man who will keep racing forever, daniel was saying "at 35 i am asking the questions a 25 year old might not ask". because they kept telling him he is old. he is out of motor racing not because he wants to be, but because the world told him he is not wanted and actually he is too old to be anything at all.

and when i see people go he looks so good - babes, no he doesnt. he is swimming in hoodies and shorts just like he was during the mclaren era. he doesn't seem to shave or cut his hair - a man who had his friends cut his hair during quarantine has seemingly given up on being presentable unless he absolutely has to for press images. i don't want to comment on his personal life, but i dont see heidi posting from the same places he does, make of that what you will.

so of course he distanced himself from motorsports, because hundred of pundits and thousands of comments on twitter, insta and reddit told him he has nothing to give anymore, so why is he trying? he should just retire. so he did, and now they are STILL unhappy about it, saying how he should be brought back. you got what you wanted and yet you keep asking for more. which seemingly means that he can't do anything right, according to you, so he will do nothing, so there's nothing to criticize him for or to ask of him. you can't ask a dead person for anything.

he is trying to build a life around his other interests - clothing, wine, singing, and he looks so unhappy solely because his entire personality was built on racing. it was built on shaking the hand of that kid racing against you, it was built on running with your helmet on endlessly, it was built on moving alone to europe. seemingly he believes the only way to win is to keep passing time until there's more of the other stuff. the other opiton is to go back to the place where it was home, but where it also hurt the most. with the vehement denials he has been giving i think we can see what he has decided. so he has to like what he has now, because the other option is to acknowledge that you do miss it. and denying your past and denying how happy and fulfilled you felt at the time is a way to put on a bandage and stop the bleeding, so that you can gaslight yourself that you are just as happy and just as fulfilled now.

"but I don't THINK this is the life that he wants" I am reading your tags and nodding so fucking hard like he's our but a man who is doing mentally well would not be privating 200 Instagram posts while getting wine drunk on a Sunday afternoon. Literally that "could a mentally ill person do that" core etc. he is forcing himself to want the life he has

op you read my mind!! I'm going to take the opportunity to go on a long (looooong) rant, because I've been dying to talk about this

For context this was on the tags of that latest post of danny saying he's done (again) that's been going around, I said that I wish him nothing but peace and quiet but I don't THINK he wants peace and quiet, and here's the thing - I really don't. I've been trying to keep quiet about it because a part of me felt like it was disrespectful to comment on a real person's mental health, but also like, yk, he's absolutely never going to see this, so I might as well get it off my chest

These past few months of daniel hanging out in LA and doing kind of... nothing? don't seem very genuine to me. And obviously you might say none of us know what's truly genuine, but Daniel has been in the public eye for over a decade and a half, and throughout that time he's been very consistent with his personality and aspirations. Sure, the wdc dream is discarded, but he always spoke about racing with love, and he's made several remarks about liking to do things, needing to do things and keep himself busy

So for him to call it quits altogether immediately seemed odd to me? Especially when he chose to do kind of... nothing at all?

In the tags I raised another issue that I think is important - Daniel's spent 30 or so out of his 35 years doing some form of racing. To stop doing that cold turkey would imply some form of hatred towards the sport, and despite all the (rightful) anger that's been going around about rbr/horner/helmut 'stealing' or 'taking' his love of it, so to speak, I don't think that's entirely correct.

It's surely there, somewhere - practically everyone who leaves F1 still involved themselves on some other form of motorsports, even Seb goes to the track sometimes or does some event (of course, you might say seb ended things on his terms, but while I think that's important to note I also think the larger trend as a whole points to drivers loving racing even when they leave a certain category, which tracks with the whole, y'know, risking their lives for the love of it aspect)

now let's circle back to the whole instagram delete spree thing, because i have some thoughts on that, too: I'm not the first person to say this and I won't be the last, but there is not a single time in a person's life where they're more self obsessed than when they're depressed. I say this both from personal experience and just talking to people - when you're not well mentally, you start getting paranoid about how people perceive you and, above all, try to manicure your image because you feel perceived in a way that makes you uncomfortable (the discomfort can come from being perceived as weak or whiny or whatever, and it doesn't happen to everyone, but id say it stems from the feeling of failure that a prolonged emotional distress can sometimes cause).

Now, important disclaimer, I'm NOT saying daniel is depressed, because I don't know daniel and I don't have the info to get to those conclusions, it's simply outside of what I could realistically infer from his behavior! What I AM saying is that just from an onlooker's perspective, he doesn't seem very fulfilled, and the fact that he repeatedly goes back to old posts from years ago to trim and trim and trim some more seems obsessive. Once or twice at first, sure, but he started deleting posts half a year ago and he's sporadically been doing so ever since. This might just be me, but even if you're not happy about the way your past turned out, a happy person doesn't feel the need to change it for the world, y'know?

a few months in perth just catching up with his family after so many years living out of a suitcase seemed both logical and healthy to me, but like, months and months of staying in la where you seemingly don't hang out with anyone except your asshole comedian friends (who coincidentally are the exact type of macho dude to say shit like men don't get depressed or something equally as ignorant and harmful as that, bffr) doesn't seem fulfilling, stimulating or just plain fun, even after taking into account danny's -sometimes odd- preferences about how to spend his fuckload of money

To me, daniel has been coming across lately as kind of a lost man, for lack of a better word.

He was clearly more deeply hurt by Singapore than he'd rather admit, but in the middle of that he started turning down any and all offers - even ones that would've made him happy!

F1 hurt him, yes, but F1 is only a sliver of the motorsports world, even if it's the most publicized. In his rejection of anything motorsports related, he's isolated himself from his homebase, and he kind of left himself jobless (as a mere peasant I'll admit that I'd love to have the kind of money to travel around the world for months without worrying about money in the slightest, but I imagine it eventually gets old, especially when there's nothing very mentally stimulating for you to do - let's be so fr, Daniel isn't going to be picking up a book about medieval history or something like that to pass the time). op said something that I loved and that really seems to encapsulate what I've been trying to say - "he is forcing himself to want the life he has". it really seems that way, it's that simple - i think he cut off too much too early and in the midst of his pain and betrayal, and now he's either too scared of getting hurt/ridiculed or simply too proud (though that wouldn't be very much like him tbh) to go back, even if it's on a different category, so he's stuck living this retired lifestyle when, newsflash, the retired lifestyle barely fulfils regular 70yo retirees, much less people who are still so, so young (and yes, 35 is young in the grand scheme of things, look at h*lmut marko ffs)

And like, I KNOW I've given it way too much thought and this is starting to enter rpf territory but like... I don't know. I can't help but wonder. He tries so hard to look happy but I feel like his smile doesn't reach his eyes anymore. (Just for the record I was originally going to respond to this ask saying something light hearted and not nearly as unhinged, along the lines of 'daniel is on his publicly fine but privately crying in the shower after downing a bottle wine by himself era', which was a joke, obviously, but then I reread it and it didn't feel like a joke at all? So anyways, here's this parasocial feverish ramble instead, hope it was semi coherent if only for the sake of the lovely @dannielricciardo)

[artifeast]

Holzmann (and a Margot I thought I'd throw in) catified! Thanks for the ask!

My designs aren't really specific breeds per se, but Holzmann is certainly inspired by Oriental Shorthairs. They just feel very him

[mellomadness]

I just fell down a rabbit hole about (legal) body disposal and part of me is so anxious wishing I could tell the FBI agent monitoring my internet searches that I’m just morbidly curious and I’m not planning on dying anytime soon (or planning anything ELSE, for that matter)

[kenzan-kiwami]

to be completely frank i think most of the people i've seen with major complaints regarding RGG 8's story are forgetting that 99% of what they're saying can be applied across the whole series

[hana-bobo-finch]

jørgan clan my beloved. you guys are so messed up

[blindedguilt-archived]

I need Leonard and Cain to do toxic yaoi together...the two of them deserved more interaction in general

//YOU GET IT OMG YOU F U C K I N G GET IT //It's the duality. It's the difference in background and how they deal with tragedy and how that's absolutely APPALLING to both, because Leonard, who has and is dealing with a deep sense of wanting to inflict violence on the inside, and Caim, who just wants peace and to have never dealt with any of that on the inside, SEE the other's outward actions doing just the opposite and both are reminded of JUST how much they're trying to ignore that part they see in the other inside of them and how they're trying to put that down and HERE this motherfucker is, just doing it //AND ITS THE SENSE OF SOLIDARITY THESE VERY DIFFERENT PEOPLE FROM VERY DIFFERENT BACKGROUNDS GET WHEN THEY SEE THAT, BECAUSE BEYOND LOSING THEIR FAMILY TO THE EMPIRE WHICH BRANG THEM UNDER THE UNION'S CAUSE THEY'RE BOTH OLDER BROTHERS WHO KNOW DEEP DOWN WHAT IT'S LIKE TO FRET OVER AND CARE FOR YOUR YOUNGER SIBLING, OUTSIDE NUMBNESS TO THOSE FEELINGS BY OUTWARD CIRCUMSTANCES BE DAMNED. THEYRE BOTH PART OF A VERY SMALL MINORITY WHO HAVE MADE A PACT, AND EVEN SMALLER OF THE ONES WITH SOME SEMBLENCE OF A MIND LEFT AFTER DOING DO. THAT THEY BOTH CAME OUT OF THEIR TRAUMA AS THE ONLY ONES LEFT FULLY UNTOUCHED AND ARE BOTH STRUGGLING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT THE FUCK TO DO WITH THAT, AND THAT LATER ON THEY BOTH FIND SOMEONE TO CARE FOR IMMENSELY THAT THEY'RE FUNDAMENTALLY INCOMPATIBLE WITH THAT GIVES THEM THEIR REAL SENSE OF WORTH AFTER THE WAR AND THE PROFOUND ISOLATION FROM BEING SO FAR DEEP IN YOUR OWN HEAD AND TRAUMA AND KNOWING THE STUPID PIDDLING WRECK OF A HERMIT OR THE NEEDLESSLY VIOLENT BLOODTHIRSTY CRACKHEAD MERCENARY NEXT TO YOU CAN SHARE IN THAT GRIEF BUT AT THE SAME TIME IS A MIRROR INTO YOURSELF AND WHAT YOU CAN BE THAT YOU REALLY DON'T WANT TO SEE //ITS ABOUT THE PROJECTION. IT'S ABOUT THE DIFFERENCES THAT FORCE THEM TO LOOK INTO THEIR OWN SELF AND THEIR INABILITY TO COPE WITH THAT AND WHY THAT MAKES THEM FUCKING HATE EACH OTHER, BUT ALSO THE COMPANY AND RELATABILITY TO EACH OTHER'S POSITIONS THAT DRIVES THEM TO THAT AWKWARD STALEMATE. ITS ABOUT THE MISLED "I CAN FIX HIM"'S MEANING TWISTED BUT WELL-INTENTIONED "I CAN MAKE HIM MORE LIKE ME THE WAY I WANT SO I DON'T HAVE TO BE SCARED ANYMORE" ON BOTH SIDES FROM PEOPLE WHO CAN'T EVEN FIX THEMSELVES BECAUSE THEY CAN'T LET GO, AND THEN MY FAVOURITE PART

//HOW THAT RESULTS IN PSYCHICAL VIOLENCE AND/OR LOATHING AND RESENTMENT AND DISGUST. i watch this scene with SUCH yaoi-tinted glasses anon you don't even know

[tapakah0]

(Continuation because I don't trust tumblr tags) #Oscar... pointing at her neck with the weapon like this... *sigh* eather he is a very good actor or can adapt very quickly #TRUST POINTS FROM ECLIPTICA HELL FEGEFJEGJEYGWYGWD #HE JUST WANTED TO HELP #THE PREVIOUS NEVER WANTED TO HELP AND WE EAT THEM AHAHAGGASHGSA FUNNY YEAH? # *cough* Ma'am... take room... you seem to enjoy his physical company... #OH WHAT AN OFFER HUH #YEHA HDFEMFAWHGDMA MAXAZAANABA I KNEW HE GUESSED THAT WARD IS NOT COMING BACK AHAHGAHGAAHGSA DEAR SCULPTOR YOU F***ED UP YOU TOOK THE SMARTER ONE IN THE BASIC WAY BUT WE HAVE A SOCIALLY SMARTER ONE AND THIIIIIIS IS A REAL DISASTER AHGADHGDHDGHGHAGSDH #DEAR OSCAR CONGRATS YOU ARE *SHAKING HIM* YOU EVIL DEVIL LITTLE DEMON WITH ONE BRAIN CELL THAT HAS 1000 BRAINCELLS ITSELF AND ALL OF THEM ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR TACTICS AND SOCIAL NEGOTIATION

Part 11 ‘-‘

I have a feeling Shepherd and Ward would get along really well... you know, if you put them in the au where everything is the same, but there is peace and harmony in the whole galaxy

Previous

Masterpost

[iloveotters2000]

Still constantly overwhelmed, but I'm getting professional help, which is nice and leaves me hopeful. Maybe it'll give me the energy to maintain my friendships again because I have been self-isolating more and more frequently.

I still miss seeing her sometimes, but it's more the concept of her I think. And the concept of someone who understands me deeply. Someone who feels the same emotional turbulence. She's hurt me though by (I feel) distancing herself, cancelling activities last minute, making me feel like I'm not important (which was even more present when we were dating and everything went south). I still like her as a person, but because she struggles w the same exact issues it is hard to get a sense of security and safety in our relationship...it's also hard to maintain boundaries when we were once closer than just friends.... It's not a very healthy dynamic, although I don't want to admit it and I especially don't want to lose her....

[sogoodtoletgo]

Artist friends, please don't use StickerMule

Full tweet

I've been on the "Fuck Stickermule" train for a few years now after they posted COVID conspiracy bullshit, and it was found out their CEO was a Trump / Anti-LGBTQ+ donor.

Take your business elsewhere. Just because they have good deals occasionally shouldn't mean they should be able to use your money to support shitty recipients.

Some businesses I'd recommend checking out:

StickerGuy -Been using Sticker Guy for like 15 years for my bands stickers over the years. They have some of the best vinyl stickers I've ever used and those things are practically indestructible. Ridiculously good prices too.

RockinMonkey - I've only ever used them for one run of holographic stickers but the quality is so good and I'd definitely go to them again if I were to get more printed.

StickerNinja - Never personally used but I've seen so many people recommend them and their quality shows on their socials. And I'm fairly certain they're BIPOC owned, super pro-LGBTQ+ and are very vocally Pro-Palestine which is a plus in my book!

StickerApp - has been getting a lot of positive feedback in the reblogs! Vograce - I've read some good things about them in the reblogs, and I've also seen some people on Tiktok showing off acrylic keychains they've made with their services!

EDIT [7/18/2024]:

Found this cool document full of information on other sticker / merch printers with a ton of comparisons and examples compiled by Theresa Chiechi! They also have a series of Tiktok videos linked on that page showing the different businesses they've tried. Be sure to check it out if you want a comprehensive look into your best options.

Please feel free to leave any other suggestions!