#and just be even more annoying about my art=science ways

[lilacerull0]

next school year i am going to be even more annoying

[ctimenefic]

uhh sooo this needs fic for science (and me) pls could you oblige

always and forever my darling. thank you for this absolute treat of a photo set. you'll notice I basically didn't get past photo one, hope that's alright

“Can you do my back?”

George sounds fucked out; that’s the only reason Alex cracks open an eye, to check the sun and sea and sand haven’t decided to challenge him personally on making George William Russell achieve ultimate bliss. From his own lounger he can just about see George’s face smushed into the crook of his elbow, the corner of his mouth tipped up, and what is no doubt a pleading look unfortunately entirely concealed behind sunglasses. 

“Please,” he adds, and Alex can’t tell if he imagines eyelashes fluttering madly beyond the dark lenses. “I’ll get tan lines.”

“Just take your shorts off,” he grumbles back. He has; an artful grecian fold of towel is all that lies between him and cockburn. It’d been a faff to get it just so, and he’s at that itchy-good stage of his tanning, where sweat’s beading on his skin enough to make it feel tight and stretched, but not uncomfortable. A primitive pleasure. Not something to interrupt with the slime of factor five.

George hmphs into his arm. “It’s not a nudist beach.”

“It’s a private beach. On a private island.” Alex tries to sound annoyed, but it’s actually a fucking marvel that George’s inhibitions reset on a goldfish-like timer; it doesn’t seem to matter how many times Alex fucks him til he shouts on the sand, or sends him back to the villa glistening chin-to-chest with his own come, a few hours later it’s back to baseline, and Alex gets to make a spectacle out of him all over again.

“Aleex.” It’s always like that, stretched out just long enough to be noticed, but short enough to read like a typo, sound slurred and drunk and happy, like George just wants his name on his lips a little longer. And it’s always enough to work, Alex has to concede, as he scrabbles in George’s beach tote for the spray. 

“Alright princess,” Alex snarks, but even that can’t shift George’s smug expression. He straddles George’s thighs and over-spritzes til George’s back is gleaming wet with the stuff. It’s shiny, and smells faintly of cucumber; it makes him think of his sisters doing spa days at home, face masks and fluffy slippers. George might like that.

Another spritz for good measure and George huffs. “That’s expensive.”

“You’ll get another win bonus after the break,” Alex retorts, fond. He follows it up with a smooth press of both palms, right the way up George’s back, either side of his spine, and down his arms, and George melts under him. The cucumber scent darkens as it meets skin and sweat; Alex feels thirsty even as his mouth waters. He skims up the sides of George’s ribs next, even though George could obviously have reached there himself; lets the pads of his fingers linger in each hollow just a second. There’s not a part of George he hasn’t touched, but there are places he hasn’t memorised yet. It’s summer. They have time. 

When he glides his palms up to George’s neck, rubs the suncream with his fingertips right up to the base of his hairline, George shivers and stretches like a cat under him, pliant and satisfied, and it takes more of the weight of a bad half season off Alex’s shoulders than a dozen hours of sunbathing and swimming could. He presses his thumbs in at the top of George’s traps, revels in the open mouth moan he barely muffles against his arm. 

“Maybe I should take my shorts off after all,” George murmurs, smug - and there it is, there’s the fucking play. He wiggles a little, arse suddenly straining to escape his Hilfiger swim trunks.  

Alex swats his shoulder. “Hussy.” Just to be petty, he slides over George’s arse instead, wedges his knees against George’s ribs and lets some of his weight sit there against his mid-back. That’ll teach him not to ask for what he wants flat out. 

And then George shifts his arms - moves his head round, to give Alex a look, maybe, or just to get comfy - and his shoulders pull in. Just a fraction. Just enough to turn the long line of his spine into a gully between thick, strong muscle. Just enough to catch the head of Alex’s dick where it sat soft against one of his vertebrae, and squeeze.

George doesn’t even notice, that’s the thing. But Alex - Alex can see it, how fucking fast he’s getting hard at the feel, the look of it, the pink of him against the soft brown of George’s tan. He can imagine how it might-

No. No, that’s not- He’s heard of blowing someone’s back out, but it’s not literal, it’s an expression. It’s George last night, shiny eyed and weak all over, when Alex gave him fingers to suck and fed him ice cubes and mango slices and stayed inside him until he was hard again, because he could, because it’s summer and they have time. 

He’s not going fuck George’s back. He’s not. He’s- he can be normal about this. Even if it would be like when his ex-girlfriend would lie him flat on the floor, core tensed, and then run her pussy over his cock, slide back and forth until her thighs shook and she was dripping wet - actually dripping, fat drops he could hear hitting the skin of his stomach, his dick. Like that, but better, because it would be George stuck just taking it, feeling it, not even able to watch as Alex fucked up into the tight space between his shoulderblades.

He’s utterly hard now, dark and straining. A drop of precome appears. If he moved, it’d smear on George. He could rub it in. He could smear more. 

He could watch his come sluice down the whole long length of George’s spine, pool in the small of George’s back, or slide down to his arse, push it inside and fuck him there too, fuck every place he could be fucked until he was more inside George than out. 

He’d had an idle plan to finger George until he gaped for their last night on the island - not fisting, that was one of the words George couldn’t say, had blinked at rapidly when Alex had tried probably the world’s most ill-advised conversation on kink. But as close as he could get without George bolting. Four, and his mouth, until George cried, late enough into the night that he’d squirm on the jet home in the morning, empty and needy. Maybe then he’d finally let Alex fuck him mid-flight, whatever the pilot might hear. 

George shifts again, a tiny movement, but enough that Alex hisses at the change, the heat of a fresh centimetre of George’s skin under the head of him. Precome rolls down, splatters silently out of sight, in the gully of his spine. Alex closes his eyes for a breath.

“Georgie,” he starts. “Be a very good girl for me and stay still.”

[presidentbungus]

Distractions - engie/medic, ~1k

ao3

finally returning to the time-honored art of feverishly scribbling down a short little science party fic in the middle of the night. my brain disease is back. please enjoy

“I have to say, laborer, I expected better from you.”

His back hits the wall, bare head thunks against it. He lost his hard hat in the first scuffle. And his shotgun. And his pistol. The metal of the gun barrel pressed against his forehead ain’t cold anymore.

Part of him wishes the son of a bitch would get on with it already. The other part of him, though, is the one that’s making him sweat like a stuck pig, and is the one locking his mouth shut.

Good ol’ instinct for ya. Won’t even let you bite yourself in the ass.

Spy just sits there for a second, that smug-poodle look on his face, and he tilts his head. Keeps making a show of fidgeting with the trigger, like he doesn’t even know how stupid it looks. “Not going to say anything? Any last words, laborer?”

“What, you want an autograph?”

He laughs at that, but not in the nice way. “I don't think you are in a position to speak to me that way."

"I think you're in a great position to take a hike and go stick that goddamn muzzle—“

Spy makes a big old ruckus of adjusting his grip on the gun, so he shuts up.

“You are pathetic,” Spy says, sweet ‘n simple. “Hm?”

What a hypocrite. Engineer might hear something—Spy’s being too full of himself to pay any attention. Tap-tap-tap. Footsteps, perfectly even.

“Are you not going to reply to me?”

Engineer just smiles, politely. “Ain’t you supposed to be a good spy?”

Spy hears it too, by now, and he should know better than to relax his grip on the gun when the calculation runs through his pea brain.

Flash of white. Stomp-stomp-stomp. A glower that’s mad enough to probably kill on its own. Engineer grips the barrel of the revolver in his fist while he's distracted, points it at the ceiling as a gunshot rings out and a lotta emotions run through Spy’s face at once—fear-related, mostly.

And, well, he should’ve known better than to put his back to a doorway.

He doesn’t even get to turn around before Medic grips the back of his suit and thrusts the übersaw straight through his head. Engineer whistles at the bit of brain coating the edge as Medic twists once, laughs, and dislodges it, leaving Spy to fall to the ground like a bag of rice.

“Shameful,” he tuts.

Engie stands up, dusts himself off, goes to grab his hard hat but he’s stopped by an arm wrapping around his waist, pulling him in close.

He half-complains till Medic pulls him into a very sudden kiss and, well, that shuts him right up. Whenever they pull away (which takes a while) Medic frowns and says: “What, not even a thank-you?”

“Well.” He’s a little breathless, to be honest. “Gimme a second.”

Medic hums and releases him. “I marched across the entire field. Soldier is going to try to murder me when I get back. Nevertheless he will not succeed, but it will be annoying. You should be grateful.”

“The whole field, huh? And you knew I was in trouble?”

“I have a sixth sense for these things, Engineer. And you are very predictable, you know.”

Engineer finds his hat in the corner of the room, dusts it off, and puts it back on, going back over to Medic to pat his admittedly finely sculpted chest. “Well, either you’re psychic or you put a chip in my spine you’re refusin’ to tell me about. Which one do ya think’s more likely?”

“It’s very important to me to keep tabs on your health,” he says, simply.

“I’m sure it is.”

“Besides, don’t act like you weren’t waiting for me to come rescue you.”

"Well, it’s your fault for making me dependent,” he muses, yanking on that nice straight tie of his just for the little wheeze that pulls out of him. “I could handle it myself if I really wanted to.”

“Oh, I'm sorry." Medic puts a hand on his back, grins, and then lifts him up in a bridal carry, cackling as he yelps, gently knocking their foreheads together. Then: "I suppose I'll just have to stop saving you, Schatz. Keep you on your toes, yes?”

“Hey now. Never said that.”

“I just feel so unappreciated, Engineer… never get any thanks for the things I do…”

Well.

Engineer grips him real tight by the tie (again) and brings him in and they almost fall over on top of each other, but Medic catches himself on a wall which Engineer bangs his head against and somehow they manage to find their way to each other in the meantime. The kiss is short, sweet, and vicious, and Engineer pulls away to wait for Medic to go in himself and he does not hesitate one second, which was really the whole endgame anyway. Eventually Medic sets him down and pins him instead and that’s great and all but right against the wall where he is, a lot of what he’s getting is just a nice round view of Spy’s mangled corpse spilled across the ground.

Which is definitely something. It’s hard to find space with how Doc’s basically mauling him but eventually he manages to push him back, and he takes a second to catch his breath and says: “I’m sorry but the corpse is kinda ruining the mood for me.”

Medic looks back… then forward, to Engineer, with a huge sigh. “That makes sense.”

Engineer smiles, finally releasing his death-grip on Medic’s tie and placing a hand on his chest that in concept is supposed to push him away, though he stays right in place and doesn’t seem to get the message. “And look, I’m sorry to be the one who has to say this, but we should probably get back to work soonish, anyway.”

He pouts. “Oh, nonsense.”

“How long’ve you been away? Soldier’s gonna rip you apart.”

“I will simply rip Soldier apart before he rips me apart.”

“… I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“You don’t know that.”

Engineer can’t keep down a scoff. “We are the two people on the whole team who shouldn’t go missing under any circumstances.”

Medic finally pushes away, grumbling. “You always do this.”

“I like my job. You like your job, I think. Right?"

"... Well..."

"Oh, c'mon, darlin'."

He leans down until their foreheads are touching. “I’m afraid I don’t like my job as much as I like you.”

Engineer can’t resist the urge to peck him on the nose after that, but he swiftly sidesteps the revenge kiss and starts heading out of the room. Whatever indignant thing Medic shouts is covered over by him shouting back: “We’ll reconvene!”

And all he gets back from that is a very protracted groan, and at least the mental image of two hideous kitten-eyes, and that's good enough for him for now.

[animehideout]

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

PART TWO.

Read part 1 here.

Read part 3 here

Gojo Satoru x Fem! reader.

a/n: I hope you enjoy this part, in the next parts things will get more exciting and heated so stay updated..

warnings: At some point this story will contain SMUT parts.

words count: 1127.

You awoke to a pounding headache, your phone ringing none stop. You had trouble sleeping at night, the house was spacious and it felt really cold and empty.

"Shit, it's already 10 am," you muttered upon realizing the time.

Picking up the phone, you anticipated the caller is your nosy cousin.

"Morning," you greeted, met with her enthusiastic response. "Everything okay? Why'd you call?"

"Come on, spill! Did the curse break?" she asked.

With a sigh, you knew this was none of her fucking business.

"No. You know it takes time, right? It's gradual."

"Ah, how was it, then?" she inquired.

"How was what?" you raised an eyebrow, already prepared for her persistent questioning.

“Having sex with the famous Gojo Satoru?”

Your eyes widened, and your heart raced. Should you lie? He didn't touch you he hadn't even stayed the night.

"G-good," you lied, "Gotta go now," you added, ending the call with a flush on your face.

You'd always fantasized about your first time, picturing a softly lit bedroom, under the touch of your lover, while making love passionately. But, all those dreams shattered the moment you married Satoru. Neither of you had any intention in touching each other.

You stretched out of bed to prepare breakfast "Am I gonna live like this forever?”

•At Jujutsu High•

"Oh, Gojo-sensei! What brings you here?" asked Yuji.

"Huh? Teaching!" Gojo replied, putting his blindfold on.

"But you just got married," Yuji remarked.

Gojo patted Yuji's head and smiled, "Then who's going to teach my precious students if I'm not here?"

"Oh, about that, Principal Yaga said Mei Mei and Utahime-sensei will handle it."

"Hah? No!"

"Bothered, Gojo Satoru?" Mei Mei said in a seductive tone as she approached.

"Shouldn't you be next to your wife? Snuggling?" she teased.

"And let you teach my students? Oh no."

"Utahime, you're here! See, Gojo left his wife all alone in bed just to teach."

"I give it to you, Gojo. You're committed to teaching," joked Utahime.

"Satoru," said Principal Yaga, appearing in the classroom.

"Been on the phone with your wife," he added.

"Huh, why?" questioned Satoru.

"Well, you're a married couple, and teaching will consume all your time. So, she'll start teaching here as well, and both of you can spend time together," he explained.

Satoru froze but maintained a blank, poker face.

"She doesn't even have cursed energy. What do you expect her to teach? Rocket science?"

“Huh he doesn't want his wife here?” whispered Utahime.

“I mean you know both of them were forced into this, bet he didn't even fuck her” said Mei Mei in her usual amused tone.

"I know, but she's skilled in martial arts and weapon use. She'll excel at training your students."

"Did she accept your offer?" Satoru asked through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, she was happy about it. She said she'll be here in an hour."

“So should be we leave, since Gojo is here?” Asked Utahime.

“Leave? hah we've come all the way just to leave” Replied Mei Mei “also it's a great opportunity to meet your wife, Gojo.. and celebrate”

“Celebrate?” asked Megumi.

“Yeah your step mom will start working here, she deserves a good welcoming”

“Quite that Mei Mei, dont make a buzz out of it” said Gojo in an annoyed tone.

“come on, Gojo.. Don't spoil the fun.. don't you think your lovely wife is deserving of a celebration ”

• Time Skip •

Y/n's Pov

It was my first time at Jujutsu High, unlike my siblings, cousins, and now husband. I've always been at home, locked away because my family feared that curses might harm me and I won't be able to defend myself. So, I trained at home, learning martial arts and weapon use as my only means of self-defense.

Now, stepping in as a teacher, life indeed full of surprises.

End Of Pov

As you walked inside, someone snatched you into an empty corner.

"What the hell do you think you're doing y/n?" asked Gojo, placing his giant hand on your mouth.

You pushed it away, frowning "Huh?" you raised an eyebrow.

"You'll go to Principal Yaga now, apologize, and tell him that you changed your mind and rejected his offer."

"And who do you think you are to order me around?" you fought back.

"You have no business here, y/n. You're making this more complicated for both of us."

"So, you expect me to be locked in your house forever? Sleeping, eating, and looking out the window?"

"Yes, but not forever, its until you get rid of that curse, and then we'll divorce."

"You're insane. Get out of my way," you said, walking past him but he grabbed your forearm, pulling you closer, his face a few inches away from yours, you could feel his hot breath.

"You're making a mistake."

"Don't worry. I'm here to teach, not to chased after you" you spat back, freeing yourself and leaving him standing there.

....

..

“SURPRISE” everyone screamed their lungs out the moment you stepped into the school's common room.

New faces, you only recognized Principal Yaga's face since he was invited to your wedding.

“Hello y/n sensei!! I'm Itadori Yuji, This is Fushiguro and this is Kugisaki.. we'll be your students” he said in a cheerful tone, giving you a genuine contagious smile.

You smile back, “nice to meet you Itadori-kun” .

“Y/N” started Mei Mei “Congrats for this post, and congrats for your wedding as well” she smiled giving you a hug.

“we heard a lot about you” added Utahime hugging you as well.

Gojo finally joined you, silently leaning against the door frame, observing as you interacted with his students and collegues.

“GOJO!! this beauty deserves a honey moon, can't believe you. You know teaching can wait” Mocked Mei Mei trying to embarrass you.

“Yeah true, newly wed couples should have other things to do instead of teaching” Teased Utahime, trying to offend both of you.

As he began to speak, you cut him off, "Nah, don't worry about us. We already talked and decided to postpone our honeymoon," you said, smiling, fully aware of their intentions.

Gojo approached, wrapping his strong arms around you. "Yeah, y/n and I did talk things out," he stated, leaning in to whisper in your ear, "I'll let this slip once. Don't get comfortable, acting like a real wife."

"You're the one clinging to me right now by the way" you retorted, prompting him to move away.

"Do you see that, Utahime? Not even a spark of love or respect between them," smirked Mei Mei.

Gojo's Pov

Is that so, y/n? Trying to embarrass me and act like a real wife now. I'll need to put you in your place, and I think Utahime and Mei Mei might be useful this time...another woman will definitely push you away.

End of Pov

Taglist 🫶🏻:

@hermitkerm @smolbeanzzz @eolivy @sanriosatoru @khaleesihavilliard @ryumurin @bookswillfindyouaway

[batboyblog]

I feel like some people can't be/refuse to be educated, or they're deliberately being obtuse because they're trolls, psyops, or they just fell for the trolls and psyops. But its still good to point out where they're wrong and to give actual, you know, facts, for the benefit of other people reading who might actually be reachable.

yeah, I mean I usually ignore them because usually its bad faith and when a post is getting hundreds even thousands of notes in a day you just can't keep up with the 10-20-ish people who say something, particularly if its in the tags because thats just hard or fighting in the replies which always feels weird

But I was in a bad mood and in general seeing the same either bad faith or straight up don't know comment over and over and over again is very annoying

the "lol Joe Biden didn't do anything about Student loans!" one is pretty annoying since Biden has forgiven well over 100 BILLION dollars worth of student loan debt, so like he has done a lot on student loan debt. I'm not a big deal but I remember I did one of my "what Biden did this week" posts and it had the student loan debt forgiveness for people who got defrauded by the Art Institutes, and a few people added their stories of being defrauded and being in debt to AI for years and the one that'll stay with me was an older guy who went to try to get a new degree to get a job in a different field kinda late in the game, his 50s or 60s and of course didn't get the jobs he hoped for because scam college and saying how he thought he'd die in debt and it was all gone, all forgiven. So just like people flippantly dismissing a very real life changing thing is very annoying

there are a few other very common annoying ones "why didn't he do this when he controlled congress before!" well he was busy passing the biggest climate change bill any government on earth has ever done, investing in our Infrastructure for the first time since before Reagan was President (Reagan 😒) listen Biden passed 4 of the biggest most transformationally progressive bills the US has seen since LBJ

American Rescue Plan

Bipartisan Infrastructure Law

CHIPS and Science Act

Inflation Reduction Act

on top of which he passed the first gun control law out of congress in 30 years, and other things, like the Respect for Marriage Act to protect gay marriage, or making Juneteenth a federal holiday (the first new federal holiday since MLK day in 1983)

SO! thats why he didn't do the things he wants to do in his next term he was busy doing equally (and in the case of climate change more important) things and thats why we should all be hopeful if Joe Biden is President with a Democratic Congress he'll get most if not ALL the things on his agenda done, because he's fucking good at this, we haven't had a President this good at pushing bills through Congress and using every switch and lever of the federal government to make major progressive change since LBJ or FDR, I guess his big mistake was naming it something boring like "Inflation Reduction Act" and not something sexy like "New Deal" or "Great Society"

sorry to go off on a tare there, but its just frustrating to see 40 (out of tens of thousands really) posts saying the same dumb shit and having no real way to respond

[spacetime1969]

Danny Fenton’s Field Trip to the Ghost Zone!

I have had the wonderful opportunity to write a fic inspired by the art of the wonderful @arisu-artnfics as part of @ecto-implosion. I ended up thinking it would be fun to bring in a trope from a completely different fandom, and write a Peter Parker Field Trip fic for Danny Fenton. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: The Field Trip

Ao3 | First | Previous | Next

Dash Baxter hadn’t expected that his class field trip would end up like this. He had been expecting a boring day at the planetarium, but instead they had found themselves in the Ghost Zone!

A lot of things had happened all at once. First they had fallen through a portal and landed in the Ghost Zone. Then their bus driver had abandoned them to dive through the portal as it closed, trapping them all behind him. And then, while the rest of the group was grappling with the fact that they had somehow ended up in another dimension, Fenton and his friends had gone and recruited a ghost to fly them home, somehow!

Honestly, Dash could deal with all of that. It was a lot, but he was an Amity Parker, born and raised! What was weirding him out was how relaxed the nerds were about all of this!

Dash wanted it on the record that he wasn’t scared (definitely not). He was just a little nervous, okay? Don’t judge him! They were in the Ghost Zone! How could he not be at least a little nervous? This is where the ghosts lived! Everyone should be nervous!

Not the nerds though. They only seemed to be mildly annoyed by the fact they were stuck in the afterlife another dimension. He could understand Manson and Valerie, they were both pretty scary themselves. He could even sort of understand Foley, but Fenton was infamous for hiding from even the most tame ghosts, disappearing to some hidey-hole until Phantom took care of them. Heck, he even abandoned his friends a lot of the time, leaving them to be saved by Phantom. So why the heck was Fenton so chill now that they were literally flying through the Ghost Zone?

Dash wasn’t gonna be stuck wondering for long, Mr. Lancer had the same question. “Mr. Fenton, How are you so calm!”

Danny stared at him. “Mr. Lancer, the portal to the Zone is in my parents lab. Did you really think that me and my friends wouldn’t have tried going through?”

Mr. Lancer spluttered at Fenton’s dry response. “I had assumed that your parents at least had enough lab safety in place that you wouldn’t have succeeded!”

Dash may have been a jock, but he wasn’t stupid okay. He had seen enough movies to tell the difference between a laugh and a cackle, and the way that Fenton’s laughter threw his head back and shook his whole body was absolutely a mad scientist’s cackle. The sound almost scared him more than the fact they were stuck in the Ghost Zone.

“Mr. Lancer, we’re Fentons. If my parents go too long without blowing something up, me and Jazz will do something ourselves just to make sure it’s not too quiet.”

Fenton’s friends were nodding along. “Yeah, the first time Danny slept over at my house it was too quiet for him to fall asleep. So he went down to the kitchen, modified the toaster oven to reach 3000°, and poured molten salt into the bathtub. Gave my parent’s a heart attack.”

Lancer’s eye twitched. “How old were you when you did this?”

Fenton shrugged. “Like six I think? I’m not sure. I did learn to get permission first after that though.”

Dash and Paulina shared a look. Holy shit, Fenton was a mad scientist. Like, it was common knowledge that the Fenton parents were, but apparently they had all missed the fact that Danny Fenton was just as crazy as them.

They both jumped when a mechanical hand popped out from a panel in the ceiling and the voice of their ghostly driver echoed through the speakers. “That's science, baby!”

Fenton gave the mechanical hand a high five and chuckled. “Well I didn’t write it down, but I did learn something, so it probably still counts.”

Manson laughed. “Hypothesis, everyone likes explosions before bed. Conclusion, hypothesis incorrect.”

The nerds (and Technus) laughed while the rest of the bus stared at them. Dash didn’t know whether to be terrified of them or just glad that they were still nerds. Then Fenton made eye contact with him and grinned. Definitely terrified of them.

“Well, in the meantime, we have reached our first stop!” Technus said, as the bus made a bumpy landing.

Fenton frowned. “Wait what? Why are we stopping? I thought we were headed to the Far Frozen?”

“That’s the destination, but, since your parent’s shut down the portal, things in the Zone have been shifting around even more than they usually do. So we will have to go from stop to stop and get directions as we travel,” the ghost replied.

“So where have we stopped now?” Valerie asked.

“Jonny and Kitty’s place!”

Fenton looked out the window. “Oh yeah I recognize it! There’s their track.”

“Go see if they know where Dora’s castle is right now. That should be in the right direction.”

“Yeah alright, I’ll go ask,” Fenton said.

The rest of the class pressed their faces to the windows and watched as he walked out of the bus and over to the dirt track. He held his hands to his mouth and yelled.

“Kitty! Johnny! You here?”

There was a moment of silence, and it seemed like there wasn’t gonna be a reply. Then there was the sound of a revving motorcycle. It appeared from behind one of the embankments, with two people riding it. They rode towards Fenton, not slowing down as they got closer and closer.

Fenton just stood there, not even moving as they barreled straight towards him. Dash glanced over at the nerds to see their reaction, only to see them all looking entirely uninterested. Foley wasn’t even watching, messing with his PDA instead. Dash looked back out the window as his other classmates gasped. Just as they thought that Fenton was gonna get turned into a pavement smear the bikers slid into a skid, kcking up enough dust to temporarily block Fenton and the bike from view.

Dash and his classmates watched as the dust cleared, wondering if Fenton had just gotten run over, but when the dust cleared Fenton hadn’t moved an inch. The bike on the other hand, had stopped barely an inch in front of him.

The couple on the bike and Fenton stared each other down.

“Boo! 3/10 try harder next time.”

Dash flinched at the loud voice next to him. He turned to see Manson giving a thumbs down and heckling the ghosts outside. The guy rolled his eyes and the girl in the red jacket blew a sarcastic kiss towards her. Manson laughed and her friends rolled their eyes. The rest of the class was just staring at her, baffled.

With Manson seeming to have broken the staring contest, Fenton and the two ghosts relaxed and started talking, but whatever they were saying was too quiet for Dash to hear. They seemed to argue for a bit, before Fenton shrugged and randomly tackled the guy off his motorcycle.

The class watched in shock as they tussled in the dirt. The other ghost hopped off the motorcycle and went to join them, but Valerie cackled and jumped out the window of the bus. Lancer tried to reach out and grab her but Manson and Tucker blocked him. Not that it mattered, she was already out the window by the time he’d moved.

“Not on my watch Kitty!” Valerie yelled as she tackled the second ghost from behind.

Manson and Foley cheered as the four wrestled in the dirt.

Fenton managed to pin the ghost he was fighting quickly and he tapped out. The two then sat and watched as the others wrestled. It wasn’t long before Valerie also managed a pin, and they all helped each other up. They brushed their clothes off and shook hands, speaking for a moment more before Valerie and Fenton walked back to the bus.

“Okay, Johnny said that Dora’s is about 10° up with a 30° azimuth.” Danny said as he and Valerie climbed back into the bus.

“Alright!” Technus yelled. “Next stop, Dora's Castle!”

Dash fell back into his seat as the bus jumped and they were once again flying through the ghost zone.

For a long moment all the students just sat there, but eventually Paulina broke the silence with the question everyone was wondering. “What was that?” she screeched.

Fenton just looked at her in confusion. “What was what?”

“What do you mean ‘what was what?’ The fighting and stuff! You went from a perfectly civil conversation to fighting in the dirt! Valerie jumped out the window!”

“Oh that! Well Johnny said he wouldn’t tell me unless I fought him. So I did.”

Paulina spluttered at his relaxed statement before turning to their other classmate.

Their classmate who had literally jumped out a window less than ten seconds ago just shrugged. “I wasn’t about to turn down a fight.” Valerie said.

“Why?” Paulina cried.

Valerie just shrugged again. “It’s fun.”

Dash... had no idea how to respond to that. Apparently, neither did Paulina, because she just slumped into her chair.

Dash had no idea how to react to everything he was learning about Fenton and his friends today.

[racefortheironthrone]

fantasy sometimes doesn't afford itself the ability to fantasize about a better world with many of the same problems of real life. thankfully ive found fantasy thatfantasize about things like gender roles, orientations, social status, etc. being more accepting, and the world kinder more often than not. question is, as hard as it is to find solid urban fantasy, are there anyworks you know of that use itself to imagine a optimal city for us urban nerds? magic public works, free dragon transit?

So there is a real problem in the fantasy and sci-fi genres that they often have a failure of revolutionary imagination, as I’ve termed it. We’re so used to not just the world as it is but also the public historical imagination of how change happens, that even in art that’s supposed to be about radically reimagining our world or new worlds, we often revert back to the familiar. (I find this tic particularly annoying in alternate history, which is supposed to be about imagining how the world could have evolved differently, but often reverts back to a retelling of (often bad) history with the numbers filed off.)

(A sadly rare counter-example.)

You raise a fascinating question about the potential for urbanist fantasy. This is often quite rare in urban fantasy, because often out of a desire to maintain the verisimilitude of urban life, they default to a masquerade scenario which renders it impossible to explore the impact of magic on transit, housing, and other aspects of urbanism because the central conceit is that people with magic are trying to hide and thus have no impact on the mundane world.

However, it does crop up sometimes in Magitech settings, because their central conceit is all about how magic would function in place of science and lead to new ways of organizing societies, urban and otherwise. For a popular example, look at how Arcane examines the social impacts of Hextech and Shimmer. My personal favorite example of urbanist fantasy is the plane of Ravnica from Magic the Gathering.

Ravnica is a ecumenopolis, a city-state that covers the whole planet. The city is governed by a guild council, each of whom are responsible for an aspect of the city’s physical and social infrastructure:

The Azorius Senate is responsible for running the courts and the legal system, and sometimes they run the police as well (although they have a jurisdictional dispute with the Boros Legion on that front).

House Dimir are couriers, messengers, journalists, private investigators, spies, assassins, thieves, and librarians, as well as the city’s clandestine intelligence service - if it deals with information in any way, the Dimir have a hand in it…or do they?

The Cult of Rakdos run the city’s entertainment, food service, retail, and labor recruitment (lots of shanghaing and press ganging goes on in Ravnica) - and they’re also a crazed juggalo bdsm blood cult who are responsible for keeping an ancient arch-demon entertained so he doesn’t try to destroy the city, again.

The Gruul Clans are an anarchist collective responsible for the planet’s wilderness areas, which they try to maximize by violent raids that tear down developed areas any chance they get - which also makes them Ravnica’s main demolition industry. The Boros Legion spends a lot of time defending built-up areas from Gruul rampages.

The Selesnya Conclave are a hippie nature cult commune who manage the city’s parks and other green spaces, as well as providing basic welfare services (food, “shelter,” clothing, etc.) to the city’s poor. They also use magic to do weird hivemind brainwashing in the name of harmony and unity, and they can raise giant Ent-Kaiju to defend the city in times of need.

The Orzhov Syndicate are a vampire banker mafia, and also one of the city’s biggest religions. They believe in debt on a spiritual level, and their religion fully embraces indulgences to their logical conclusion. The Orzhov preach that you can literally buy your way into heaven, and that debts to the (Catholic by way of Prosperity Gospel Evangelical) Church or its many front organizations and legitimate businesses will carry over into the next life; the Orzhov practice debt slavery on both living people and ghosts. And lest you think it’s all a cover for profit-making, they can summon dark angels to conduct rituals, lead services, and make war on their enemies. Something above is answering their prayers…

My personal favorite is the Izzet League, an institute of mad scientists and engineers and elementalist wizards who combine science and magic to research, build, and maintain the city’s infrastructure (as well as funding all tech R&D and theoretical and experimental research in physics, chemistry, and engineering) - the power grid, water and sewer systems, heating and gas lines, as well as the city’s mass transit and transportation/freight system, are all powered by their steam and fire and lightning and Magitech gadgets and robots and cyborgs made out of a magic metal named mizzium. Yes, a lot of their devices explode, and yes their golems and robots and elementals have a tendency to go rogue, but that’s the price of progress!

The Golgari Swarm are a subterranean necromantic cabal who run the city’s waste disposal, burial services, and do the bulk of the agricultural production for Ravnica’s hungry masses. All of Ravnica’s citizens are entitled to a food dole provided by the Golgari’s fungi farms as a form of basic income. Just don’t think too hard about what went into the compost heaps or what your rations might be made of…

The Boros Legion is Ravnica’s main police and military, led by a literal host of warrior angels. Imagine the combination of a police force entirely made up of noir detectives and loose cannon Dirty Harry-esque cops and an army with flying fortresses led by fiery angels who are all deeply dramatic lesbians. True believers one and all, the Boros are here to mete out justice and divine wroth upon evildoers wherever they hide. If they had their way, the Orzhov would all be in prison along with the Gruul and the Rakdos, but the damn bureaucrats in the Azorius Senate keep trying them up in knots with paperwork.

The Simic Combine are responsible for the city’s environmental quality, ensuring biodiversity and sustainability in a global metropolis; they are also the city’s universal health care providers. All Ravnicans have access to free health care, as long as they consent to the Combine’s biomantic research. See, the Simic are the other group of mad scientists/mages in the city, except they went into genetics, environmental science, and (marine) biology and they believe in individual and societal evolution through the use of augmentation, cloning, and splicing. After all, why stop at curing someone’s respiratory illness when you could also give them gills? Or giant crab claws? Or tentacles?

I love the world-building and the attention to urban systems and infrastructure in Ravnica. More than most, they’ve thought about what urban life needs to function and made it magical.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

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Some more supplementary material for the Frat Boy! Au, this time starring blorbo of the hour: Kento Nanami

Because he’s been heavy on my mind. Starting with his basic info!

Nanami grew up very middle class, not as poor as Suguru or Ryomen, but nowhere near as well off as Satoru.

He’s a business major not because he wants to, but because he feels he has too. If he had it his way, he would be a culinary student. But according to his father, there's no money in being a line cook, so accounting it is. 

Still, he hopes to use his degree to open his own restaurant one day. His father would never approve of a line cook for a son, but maybe Nanami could sell him on a business owner for a son. 

He says the main reason he joined the ABO frat was to try and make business connections, he knew that some people would hire one applicant over another just because they were alumni of the same fraternity. In reality though, he’d have more room in the frat and unlimited access to the kitchen. 

His room is full of plants. Plants of all kinds everywhere, including some herbs. It used to kinda annoy Ryomen (his roommate) but, he’s grown to actually kinda appreciate it. It makes the room feel less dead. 

Phenomenal cook who can not bake to save his life. Cooking is an art but baking is a science and somewhere along the way he fucks it up every time. Be it mixing the batter too much or too little, not letting it sit long enough or letting it sit too long- he doesn't know. He can handle box cake mix that’s about it. 

Now if you want a steak cooked to perfection with perfectly roasted veggies and the creamiest mashed potatoes you've ever put in your mouth on the side he’s you’re guy. If you want an authentic lasagna with homemade everything including the noodles and sauce, he can do that for you. Do not ask him to make bread. 

He’s also insanely good at fighting games. Every version of Nanami in my heart is a God when it comes to fighting games, there is not a universe in which Nanami exists where he doesn’t dominate at Tekken, argue with the wall if you don’t agree.

Adding to that, he’s also in love with D&D. He’s a forever DM that spends hours of time planning campaigns, hours he should be spending on his school work but shhhh. If you really want to make him swoon, offer to let him be a player in a campaign. He’d pull out a ring on the spot. 

That being said, I think it’s time to get into some relationship headcanons ;)

HE’S A TSUNDERE! Look at that man, he has such big Tsundere energy.

Out of all his frat brothers, Nanami is probably the one that gets laid the least. Not from a lack of opportunity, nay nay, women (and men) throw themselves at him all the time. He’s just picky and not a fan of being touched by stragers. 

You though? You’re different (of course you are, you’re the main character!) The two of you really started to click after you had to work on a pretty big project together. Little things you did softened his heart for you.

Small things like asking him more about his D&D campaign plans, excitedly showing him pictures of the plants that you kept in your dorm, and offering to help him out in the kitchen. Little moments of quality time and tenderness while you were working on this project together nurtured his small crush into full blown butterflies when you were around.

He finally admitted to himself he was in love with you when you beat him in Street Fighter. He wasn’t used to losing at fighting games. You bragged about using his tips against him (you listened to what he said) and laughed about the weeks you spent training to destroy him (otherwise known as taking a genuine interest in his hobbies.) 

He asked you out on a date that night and you were taken completely off guard! You had no idea the fool even liked you! He was cold on the best of days, spending more time scowling at his notebooks than listening to what you said (or so you thought.) He never contacted you unless it was in regards to your project, and most of the time you spent hanging out outside of it was just because you had become friends with his frat brothers and happened to be at the house. You mean he liked you?! 

Of course you said yes, if for no other reason than to see where the hell this goes. You were 40% sure it was a prank, but hey- a free meal was a free meal. It helped he was hot as hell, what was the harm in one date?

You saw a whole new side of Kento Nanami that night. He was warm and attentive, and fucking hilarious when he wasn’t just keeping all of his jokes to himself. 

It was a simple date. A moonlit picnic in the nearby park, one where he brought his laptop and used his phone hotspot so the two of you could watch movies together. 

That was the night when you found out Kento Nanami considered himself to be a hopeless romantic. 

When he took you back to your dorm, he walked you to the door and actually asked if he could kiss you goodnight. 

And now you’re both smitten! 

Once you’re officially his girlfriend, You’re gonna find out he’s genuinely pretty chill. Happy to give you your space and recognize you’re a person outside of your relationship. That being said, let some asshole start getting a little too comfortable with you at a part and he’s quick to throw hands.

You would think nerdy little Nanami wasn’t that good in a fight, but nay nay, he was forced to play football in highschool and will leave a bastard concussed. 

He says he’s not a cuddler, but every time you sleep in his bed you wake up with him cuddled close to you. 

Nanami loves kisses, and is always planting them on you when you’re in kissing range. Your lips, cheeks, forehead, everything is fair game. 

You’re the only person in the world other than like, his parents that can call him Kento. He’s always gone by his last name, to the point that his first name makes him feel like he’s in trouble. Only authority figures use it when they’re pissed off at him. But it hits him different when it comes from your lips. When you say it, it feels tender and intimate. It’s the closest he gets to liking his name.

He always tries to make time for you and your relationship. Even if that sometimes means that your date nights are just study dates, he always strives to make you feel like a priority. 

He’s a soft guy that falls in love easily. You may not know it yet, but he has full intentions to marry you after graduation. A fact his frat brothers are quick to tease him about, while also making him promise to make them groomsmen. 

[villainjester]

07/27/2024

Dear Wild Kratts, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!

Anyways, this is my self insert bc oc x Canon ships are cool😋 (More info about him below) ((Sorry if my character seems too much like a Mary Sue))

Signature Color: White

Name: Jester Kratt

Nicknames: Little Crow (Brothers), Nerd / CopyCat (Aviva, jokingly), Rat brother (Zach)

Family: Martin Kratt (Older brother, Chris Kratt (Second older brother), Mrs. Kratt (Mother), Mr. Kratt (Father)

Life Story: Jester was the youngest and smallest of the family but he had a loud and chaotic personality to make a name for himself. Despite his bubbly and reckless persona, he was a great, straight A student, also becoming the golden child. His parents loved the compliments and validation they got from Jester simply being talented but that wasn't enough. The Kratt parents thought it was best to sign Jester up for as many things possible, putting him up for Ballet, Art, Language Arts, and Inventing, and maybe more. Eventually, Jester found himself in a Science Camp, sharing a short-lived bond between his brothers' friend, Aviva. Both slowly started losing their connection and started to turn on each other. Then, Jester found someone who would change their life, that was Zach Varmitech, a self centered, prick who just wanted power and fame. Jester and Zach became best friends in an instant, becoming a reckless and loud duo together, often annoying Aviva but never really bullying her. They both stayed best friends even after summer camp for years until Mr. and Mrs. Kratts believed that Zach was getting in the way of their son's success. Years went by with no contact, causing Zach to almost forget Jester was a Kratt Brother. Jester, disheartened and tired of wasting his life in trying to make his parents proud, runs away without giving them a goodbye to forever hang out with his brothers and his pals.

Personality: Loud, chaotic, reckless, fearless, bubbly, ecstatic

Hobbies: Art, inventing, ballet / dance, collecting, designing

Habits: Can NOT sit / stand still, jumps up and down when excited, loves running and jumping, sometimes walks on tippy toes, Forgets words in English and will shout it in another language

Extra: Had a crush on Zach in High School (Never got to confess), often argues with Aviva (Mostly jokes), would try to befriend a bear with Chris and Martin, often ate bad berries from the bushes in their backyard just because

(Guys, I swear he's just a silly guy)

[knightotoc]

The beginning and end of Crosshair's arc each address a separate frustration I've had with Star Wars backpedaling on its own drama.

The first is the wishy-washiness of the clones' implanted brain chips. The original concept art from Attack of the Clones shows the clones to be victims of brainwashing. The sterile, science-gone-wrong imagery is inspired by Lucas' debut THX-1138, a bleak film with a tenuous and generally confrontational relationship to Star Wars. AotC, with its forbidden romance and evil fetus-growing laboratories, is the SW movie most similar to THX, and also my favorite.

The AotC concept artists went so far as to speculate that the clones did not have souls, an extreme reaction but certainly a dramatic tabula rasa to build characters upon. RotS briefly shows the Jedi's complete trust in the clones and the clones' ruthless betrayal; the explanation for this shocking behavior is implied through a parallel to Anakin, as is everything else in that movie.

But once the darn cartoon had been on cable for a few years, the writers lost faith in the THX reference and Anakin parallel and decided to replace brainwashing/manipulation with a physical Order 66 chip in the clones' brains. The idea that their characters had become too lovable to ever willingly do something so bad is a fundamental misunderstanding of Star Wars, the operatic genre, and human nature.

Season 7, while knocking it out of the park with the Maul stuff, made this brain chip thing even worse by having Ahsoka break Rex's before he had to kill any Jedi. So even though the clones are innocent, the protagonist clone is even more innocent.

And now he's supposed to lead the clones away from the Empire, but why should they follow someone who can't even relate to their fundamental curse? He's like Galahad, the only knight chaste enough to find the Holy Grail, and they're like Bors, who is technically chaste except for that one time he had sex because he got tricked by a magic spell. Thank God for rigid moral hierarchies beyond earthly control!

The only other clones who can't relate to the chip curse are the Bad Batch, since their mutated brains made them immune to it. But while the goodies don't hurt a fly, Crosshair uses his special gift of free will to shoot at a cute little Padawan. And not just any Padawan, but one of the most beloved Jedi to ever do it, the future Kanan Jarrus.

So in a bent around way, Crosshair punches through this annoying loophole the cartoon writers made in one of the movies' darkest scenes. He's not matchy-matchy, but he is still genuinely brainwashed, which makes him the only clone who still follows their original violent vision.

So, the twist at the beginning of Crosshair's arc course-corrects a decision made in a spin-off about the motivations for background characters -- but the end of his arc addresses a much bigger problem, one that affects the greatest scenes and biggest characters in the whole story: amputation.

Luke's spiritual pain from learning the truth about his father is accompanied by the physical pain of amputation. Obi-Wan demonstrates his unexpected badassery through amputation. Luke demonstrates his burgeoning badassery by Force-pulling his lightsaber toward him...shortly followed by amputation. Anakin's repeated carelessness for his weapon and life leads to him stupidly running right into amputation. Kreia proves her twisted devotion by amputation. Cay Qel-Droma becomes dependent on his brother because of amputation. Obi-Wan will not kill Anakin, but he will amputate him.

And these scenes are scary and intense, in the moment. But they do not have consequences. All of these amputees are either alien villains who we never hear from again, or Force-wielders supported by a wealthy institution which instantly provides a perfect prosthetic. Only Kreia runs around with an actual stump, but her signature move is telekinetically spinning three purple lightsabers.

There are several heart-stirring images, such as Anakin's robotic hand holding Padmé's at their wedding, or Luke's hand revealing gizmos instead of blood when he's shot on Jabba's yacht, but these images have more to do with Lucas' problematic theme of "nature > technology" than the theme of disability.

But Crosshair does not have the Force, and he certainly doesn't have the support of any institution. Most dramatically of all, his amputation is not the tragic finale of his battle, but only the penultimate act.

As a fantastically skilled sniper, Crosshair relies more upon his hands than any other SW character I know. His astounding precision is demonstrated most memorably in this scene from an earlier season, in which the music stops to allow his laser fire to ricochet off a spinning disk, down a hallway, and right into his clanker target's head:

This isn't the Force. This isn't believing in something you can't see. This is deliberate!

Throughout the last season, Crosshair has a tremor in his dominant hand which significantly affects his aim. This comes to a terrible head when he misses the shot meant to attach a tracking device to the ship kidnapping his sister Omega (again). After years of doing wrong, he finally wants to do right, and he fails because of his humiliating and unprepared-for disability.

This disability continues throughout the long journey to track her down by their wits, until he is finally captured himself. Just as escape seems close, the Imperials cut off his dominant hand to punish him. In all the other cases of amputation in Star Wars, it takes a guy completely out of the fight. But Crosshair can't afford to lose, yet. He has to keep going.

In the final battle scene, the villain is hand-cuffed to Omega on the other end of a bridge (with no hand rails of course), and Crosshair has to shoot the hand-cuffs off so the badguy can fall without dragging down Omega. Crosshair has to lean his rifle on his brother Hunter's shoulder, balance with his stump, and pull the trigger with his non-dominant hand.

The first Star Wars movie is actually unique among the franchise for having a purely satisfying victory -- the other ones all pile on some tragedy or irony -- but I think that Crosshair's victory is the most satisfying of all.

[nhl-stories]

. – Quinn Hughes

Summary: Ignoring the pain of a break up is a lot easier when you're not best friend's with your ex's brother

Author’s Note: A song title being a period is very annoying for writing, prepare for angst below

Word Count: 4.4k​

Album Series Masterlist

It's been so hard Ever since you broke my heart But I'll never tell Honey, I'm not doing so well

It’s like a rite of passage to get a crush on your friend’s older sibling. There’s some sort of forbidden love chemical that goes off in your brain and you just can’t help it.

You never expect anything to happen with it, maybe some embarrassing moments of staring or a few ridiculous confessions in a diary, but nothing more.

Lux wishes her crush could have been more aptly named, and the puppy love had been squashed before anything actually happened.

“Can I get into my house and wash the car off of me before you start bothering me,” Lux tries to sidestep Jack who’s sitting on her porch.

After a five-hour drive, the last thing she needs is to deal with a needy Jack. She’s physically exhausted and doesn’t feel like becoming emotionally exhausted on top of it.

“No, you ignored my texts.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” she rolls her eyes.

She tries using her suitcase to box him out and make it to the door, but of course he’s faster than her and grabs her ankle pulling her down onto the porch into a heap. She sits up with a huff, but can’t help but notice how serious Jack looks.

“Are you gonna ignore me all summer? Because you graduate next year and you may never get a summer off again!”

“You can’t expect me to just happily go hang out at the lake all summer.”

“She’s only gonna be there for like two weeks, she has a job to go back to,” he says it like it’s a selling point.

“You know it’s not just about her, but since I can already see you’re not going to stop unless I say yes, I’ll see you in two weeks,” she tries to escape again, but Jack grabs her wrist.

“Luxy, please come to the party this weekend, my mom would love to see you,” she wants to kick him for playing the mom card, “and I’ll even drive you home so you don’t have to spend the night.”

She narrows her eyes, “Yeah right, you’ll get drunk and then I’ll be held captive in the house of testosterone.”

Jack’s eyes dart around because he can’t deny the possibility of that happening.

“Don’t let Quinn ruin our summer fun,” he settles on that dagger.

“Fine,” she caves and Jack does a fist pump in response, “but you have to stay here for dinner because my mom keeps peeking through the curtain and she’ll be pissed if you leave.”

Lux wouldn’t be in the position if she had never befriended Jack in the first place. Or as she usually referred to it, Jack begrudgingly endeared himself to her.

It had started in middle school, when Jack had chosen drama class as his art elective and of course Lux had gotten assigned as his scene partner for the semester. It was the classic partnering of the ‘class disruption’ with the ‘class delight’ in hopes they’d balance each other out.

Jack was loud and brash and loved to rile up Lux, making fun of the way her cheeks would burn red in exasperation. Lux was the quiet girl in class, but one on one she could hold her own with an acid tongue that could easily rattle Jack’s demeanor. Their teacher thought she couldn’t have made a better pair.

The first time Lux went to Hughes’ house to practice lines, she fell in love.

Quinn was only a couple years older but with her tween brain rotting with hormones; Lux thought she was seeing a man for the first time, when she was always surrounded by mere boys.

Lux decided being Jack’s friend was something she needed in her life, if only for the proximity to her new crush. And when Ellen learned Lux was good in science, she recruited her to tutor Jack and the girl became ingrained in the family’s life.

For Lux and Jack their friendship grew to be a nice escape from usual social circles; a comfortable space where there were no expectations to act or talk or think a certain way.

And Lux got the extra benefit of secretly glancing at Quinn. Sure, her mouth turned to sand when he would merely say hi, or her face cherry red when she had even the slightest physical contact with him. Even if was just ruffling her hair in an older brother sort of way. But it all felt worth it for those miniscule interactions.

It was the one thing Jack never made fun of her for, maybe he thought it would fade away over time, like all of his crushes. But it never fully disappeared, even when she dated boys in her own grade, her heart held a special place for Quinn.

And against the odds something happened.

Lux went to Michigan for a college visit and Quinn offered to show her around a little.

“I can even give you a non-parent approved tour,” he had joked.

It was the first time they had spent any time alone, and something just clicked. They laughed at the same jokes, especially at Jack’s expense, talked about their futures even when Quinn’s was clearly more set in stone than Lux’s. By the end of the visit, they didn’t want to stop talking. So, they didn’t.

Texting went from occasionally, to daily. Texting turned to phone calls. Phone calls turned into visits to Quinn’s dorm to hang out and help him study.

Neither made a move for a long time. Lux, because she was worried that she might be reading too much into it. Quinn because she was still in high school and one of Jack’s friends.

Nothing happened until Jack’s graduation party. Jack was preoccupied with his other friends from hockey as they talked about the upcoming draft. And Lux was about to duck out to go to another friend’s party after she finished a piece of cake.

“Congrats valedictorian,” Quinn says, of course, while Lux has a mouthful of cake.

“Congrats on dropping out of college,” she laughs, hoping her wit covers up her nerves.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry, I spend too much time with Jack and that means keeping his ego in check.”

“The world thanks you for that,” they both laugh.

There’s a long silence, Lux fills it with finishing her cake before she gathers some courage.

“I was going to head out to another party, want to come with?”

They never made it to the party; they ended up pulling into a parking lot and making out. It was a start of a summer romance, something to enjoy before Quinn went to Vancouver and Lux to Northwestern. It was a bonus making Jack constantly annoyed by their PDA.

The summer ended and they didn’t, a long distant relationship tided over by games in Chicago, spring breaks, and summers off.

Things were great. And then they weren’t. And then they were over.

It’s been months since the breakup, but the wound is still fresh for Lux. Her grades started slipping in the last semester, she began losing weight in the bad kind of way, she stopped going out with her friends as much.

Lux wishes she was doing better. Not to show Quinn, who already had a new girlfriend, up.  Rather, to prove to him (or maybe herself) that her world didn’t end when he ended things. Most days it felt like it had.

She checks her rearview mirror for the thousandth time to make sure she looks well-rested and her eyes aren’t puffy and red from crying on the way over.

“You can do this, there will be other people and you don’t have to talk to him more than hello,” she gives herself a pep talk.

After another deep breath she gets out of her car, grabbing her overnight bag because deep down she knows she’ll end up staying.

She lets herself into the house like normal, and is surprised by how quiet it is. She walks further into the house and finds Ellen in the kitchen chopping fruit.

“Lux, it’s so good to see you!” She puts down the knife and engulfs the girl in hug, “I’m glad someone’s here to help keep them out of trouble.”

Lux follows her eyes to where a group of man-children are outside.

“That’s a lot to ask of one person,” she chuckles before meandering around the kitchen island to avoid going outside, “do you need any help?”

Ellen’s eyes soften giving Lux a sad smile before pulling her into another hug.

“I know it’s hard sweetie, but it’s going to be okay,” she squeezes her once more, “and there’s some veggies you can cut.”

Lux can’t help but notice how at home she feels here, she knows where everything is like it’s her own place, which last summer it sort of had been. She had helped the boys move in and decorate and organize.

“How’s school? Your mom tells me you’re taking the MCATs next?”

“I’m taking them, but I don’t know if I want medical school or grad school or what,” she doesn’t mention that her breakup with Quinn has her second guessing every life choice.

 “My dad thinks I should take a year off to figure it out."

"That’s not a terrible idea, you work too hard.”

“Luxy!”

“Lukey!” She laughs at the lanky teen and pulls him into a hug, “Do they feed not feed you at college? You’re all bones.”

She thinks she hears Luke mumble under his breath, “I could say the same about you,” but Ellen speaks up before she can dwell.

“He’s like a bottomless pit, we’re banishing him to Jack and Quinn’s cause he’s eating us out of house and home,” Ellen laughs from the counter.

“Good call, they got that NHL money now.”

“Why didn’t you come out and say hi?” Jack calls out when he and the boys start entering the house.

“Because I’m a polite house guest and I'm helping your mom with food,” she stabs the knife in the air to make her point.

Jack comes over and gives her a hug and a spin.

“Glad you actually came,” he whispers as he sets her down.

Some of the other boys from the National program come and give her hugs, they were never close friends but friends by proximity.

The back door opens again and Quinn comes in, hair wet from the lake and leading an equally wet girl by the waist. She knew she would see them but it doesn’t stop her heart from deflating a bit.

Lux can already picture how Quinn picked her up and jumped in the lake with her, then kissing her when they resurfaced until she wasn't mad anymore. Maybe they'd gotten more handsy under the water, until one of the guys called them out and they separated a little flustered but not enough to completely detach.

Lux knows from experience.

She feels a pinch on her side removing her from conjuring her own nightmares, “Lux, I said why didn’t I see you at my last game in Chicago?”

She looks over and blushes, embarrassed she’s been caught, she tries to pull it together before she gets any sad eyes. She’s sick of the pity everyone has been giving her.

“I had finals Z,” she rolls her eyes at Trevor.

Lux knows Z only invites her with hopes she’ll bring a cute friend with her.

“And this goes for all of you stop giving me tickets to Chicago games, I don’t care about hockey or you guys enough to go every time. I barely want to go see Jack and he only plays the Hawks like twice a year.”

She tries to ignore the fact that Quinn is standing by the island now, wrapping a towel around the new girl's shoulders while looking towards Lux.

“What about me? We went to prom together!” Cole says with fake offense.

“You only asked me because I make you look tall!”

She hates how comfortable she feels, laughing with the boys and making fun of them. Then she makes the mistake of making eye contact with Quinn’s new girl.

“Hi we haven’t met, I’m Samantha. I’m Quinn’s girlfriend,” she gives a shy wave.

To everyone’s credit they act remarkably chill about the moment, pretending there’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m Lux.”

“Oh, you’re Jack’s girlfriend, he won’t shut up about you,” she smiles brightly.

Lux and Jack can’t help but let out loud, awkward laughs at the same time. Nothing has ever sounded more ridiculous.

“Jack and Lux no way,” Trevor starts to open his big mouth, “it’s Lux and–“

Lux elbows him in the ribs.

“It’s Lux and me all the way,” he puts an arm around her shoulder, “Or at least it will be when she moves to LA.”

“LA?” Quinn speaks up for the first time.

“I looked at some schools down there, it’s a maybe.”

She shrugs like it’s no big deal but feels a little smug that Quinn is so curious.

“I’m still lobbying for Princeton or Columbia,” Jack says.

“Just what Lux needs, you within driving distance all year round,” Ellen chides her middle son, “Quinn why don’t you start grilling the hamburgers.”

Quinn and Ellen head outside carrying some food supplies. Samantha thinks about staying for a second but everyone else must have a weird fake smile like Lux, because she mirrors the smile before following her boyfriend outside.

As soon as the door shuts behind her, Lux pinches Trevor on the shoulder where she can tell a sunburn is coming in.

“Ow fuck!”

“What the hell was that?”

“I wanted to help out, make Quinny jealous,” Lux furrows her brows at him, “It was working for a bit.”

“Did I ask for your help?”

“No, but you looked like you could use a win,” he shrugs.

She looks around at the other guys, they aren’t really making eye contact. She realizes she doesn’t just feel like a pathetic loser, she must look like one too.

She picks up the vegetables she sliced and carries them outside, determined to show them that she’s not broken. Even if that’s not true.

People start trickling in and it starts to become a real party. She mingles with some girls she’s met in previous summers who live in cabins nearby. She even talks to Samantha when she looks a little lost as people start interrogating Quinn about hockey.

In another life Lux and Samantha would be great friends. Lux hates her a little for that. And she drinks a little too much in response.

A haze fills her peripherals, she’s wobbly on her feet but not quite to the level of falling over or getting sick.

“Quinny!” Lux and Samantha say in the same tone when he comes by with a cup of water handing it over to his girlfriend like he used to do for Lux.

“Why didn’t you tell me how great Lux was?” Samantha says a bit too loud and too fast, “I would have made my plans to overlap with her more.”

Quinn awkwardly laughs and raises an eyebrow to Lux.

“What can I say? I’m very lovable. You know that Q,” she feels herself try to wink, but it’s not quite right.

“Luxy come be my pong partner, I need someone to drink for me,” Luke helps the girl out of the chair, he’s not allowed to heavily drink while his parents are around.

“I don’t think she needs to drink more,” Quinn warns.

“That’s none of your business anymore Quinn,” Lux says with a sharper tone than she realizes she’s capable of.

Luke is extra good at pong because he’s practically sober, while their opponents are on par with Lux. Which means there’s not much drinking to be done on Lux’s part. She can feel herself sobering up and she hates it. She hates it even more when she sees Quinn and Samantha making out by the fire pit.

“I don’t feel well,” she mumbles but Luke hears her.

“Want me to take you home?”

She looks over to see Jack didn’t hold up his end of the bargain and is too drunk to drive her home. She’s probably good to drive herself but she thinks she might drive herself into the lake on purpose.

“Um– no. I drove so it will be a whole thing with my car. I’m– I’ll just– I’ll find somewhere to lie down.”

“You can sleep in my room if you want.”

She’s silent for too long thinking about what to do, she should just go home. Ask Ellen for a ride. Anything to get away from here. She could just sleep in her car.

Instead of doing anything she pulls Luke into a hug, he wraps his arms around her. It’s like he’s holding her together.

“Whoa, are you trying to collect Hughes brothers?” Jack says loudly from across the lawn, he’s too drunk to realize it’s not exactly a funny joke.

Everyone knows what he means, Lux whips her head towards Quinn and Samantha.  She looks thoroughly clueless, but Quinn is fuming.

Lux runs into the house, she doesn’t care if she cockblocks Jack or makes him sleep on the couch, she takes his room and buries herself under the covers and sobs.

She didn’t prove to anyone that she’s doing well.

The next morning her head hurts and she can’t tell if it’s from drinking or crying too much. Jack is snoring in a makeshift bed he made on the floor, she thinks about kicking him in the ribs on her way out.

No one is up when she makes her getaway.

The next time she goes to the lake house is by accident.

She’s out with some friends from high school who go to Michigan. They start out with brunch and it spirals out of control from there.

They’re out getting pizza, all on wobbly, baby deer legs, and deciding where to go next when her friend Kylie’s fiancé comes to pick her up.

“Refueling for round two?” He laughs at the group and tries to gather Kylie.

“More like round three,” Kylie giggles and tries to plant a kiss and misses leaving a sloppy, wet kiss on his neck.

Lux and her other friends ‘aww’ at that even though it’s definitely not cute and more embarrassing.

“And you’re you sure you guys want to continue on?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Lux gives him a thumbs up.

She isn’t entirely wrong, they make it to the next bar with little issue, though maybe the bartender shouldn’t serve them at this point.

They’re talking about planning Kylie’s bachelorette party in the way drunk girls do, too elaborate to actually be executed.

The conversation switches to their current love lives, which is not exactly the topic Lux wants to broach. At least when it comes to herself. She tries to keep the spotlight off her and that works for the most part, it’s nice to hear about her friends falling in love and their bad hookups.

“What the fuck Lux? I’ve been waiting outside for 10 minutes.”

Jack is standing over the table trying his best to look mad, but having a hard time with the four girls staring up at him in a drunken stupor.

“This a is girls’ night, you’re not invited!” Lux slurs and takes a sip through her straw, going back to her friends.

“You texted me an SOS,” he thinks for a second, “or it seemed like it cause you texted me gibberish followed by your location pin, so I thought you needed rescuing.”

“Well, you can see I’m fine so see you later,” she waves him off and her friends laugh.

“Not happening, I haven’t seen you in weeks and I drove all the way here, you’re coming with me.”

He leans forward to grab her arm only to be assaulted by a chorus of ‘nos,’ so he backs off for a bit, reaching for his wallet and taking out a few bills.

“Next round is on me.”

“She’s all yours Jacky boy,” her friend Ashley winks and grabs the cash.

“Traitor,” Lux sticks out her tongue as Jack helps her out of the booth.

“If a Hughes is gonna take you home, we’re glad it’s him,” Ashley makes a stern face, “tell Q he sucks for us.”

“Quinn doesn’t suck,” Lux says protectively, like he’s hers to protect.

“I’ll happily tell him Ash,” Jack cuts in before anyone picks at that scab anymore, “C’mon Luxy I’ll buy you some pizza.”

She reluctantly goes, blowing kisses to her friends. Jack helps her get into the car and she splays out in her seat.

And that’s how she accidentally ends up at the lake house.

“This isn’t my house?” She mumbles through a mouthful of pizza that she snuck during the drive.

“Obviously, if I have to kidnap you to hang out,so be it.”

Lux rolls her eyes, she’s too hungry and getting too sleepy to argue so she just gets out of the car, carefully because she can’t lose any precious pizza.

“Pizza delivery!” Lux yells out and makes a beeline to the fridge taking out a drink.

“Should you really be drinking more?”

“My knight and shining armor brought me to safety,” she ungracefully rubs a hand across Jack’s face, “so I might as well stay this drunk until I fall asleep.”

Jack jokingly puts a hand on her face and grabs the drink out of her hand, “then let me catch up with you a bit first.”

That’s when Quinn and Luke come into the kitchen, with Jack and Lux awkwardly holding each other’s faces.

“Girls’ night?” Quinn smirks, having been on the other side of that hand many times.

“Oh, I thought Lux was settling for the worst Hughes brother,” Luke laughs and Quinn kicks his shin.

“Lux would be so lucky,” Jack grabs a piece of pizza.

“And there would be a murder-suicide,” Quinn rolls his eyes.

If Lux was sober, she would be able to appreciate the normalcy of this moment.

“Lux can hear you and Lux,” she forgets her point for a moment, ”Lux is drunk and over Hughes brothers. Do the Tkachuks need a new friend? They even have a sister it’d be a better fit.”

“I can put a good word in for you with Brady,” Quinn snickers at the drunken rambling.

Lux grins at him and even through her drunken haze her heart does a little flip, this is what it feels like to be with her Quinn.

“Let’s get you to bed before you really embarrass yourself.”

Jack hooks an arm around her shoulder. Lux is smart enough to know what he’s implying, that’s not her Quinn anymore and she’s inebriated enough to say something she regrets. Jack won’t let that happen on his watch.

“There’s even a guest room with your name on it.”

Jack gives her some clothes to wear and tucks her into her bed.

“I know I’m your favorite Hughes,” he kisses her forehead.

“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone, it’s really embarrassing.”

Lux wakes up an hour later desperately needing to pee, she scrambles out of bed only to realize she’s still heavily under the influence. She tries to wanders the hallway in the dark, pretty sure she’s familiar enough with the layout to find her way.

She’s wrong.

Opening a door she walks into Quinn’s room, who’s just walking out of his ensuite bathroom toweling his hair, naked.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” she slaps a hand over her eyes, “I was looking for the bathroom and this is the one I’ve used the most.”

He lightly chuckles, “it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“That’s true,” she opens a crack between her fingers and peeks through.

“That wasn’t an invitation to look Lux,” he tinges pink before thumbing towards the open door, “bathroom’s free.”

“Oh right, I’ll be a second then out of your hair.”

When she comes back out, Quinn is sitting on his bed, the side that used to be hers. She can feel hot tears boiling in her eyes and tries to make a quick exit.

She trips over nothing, her faculties still not her own, and finds herself flopping her legs out and leaning against his dresser. Admitting defeat and letting herself cry.

“You okay?” Quinn gets up and takes a seat on the floor next to her.

“I’m sorry.”

“For falling down?”

“No for us. I’m sorry I cut you out and didn’t tell you how I felt and was just a shitty girlfriend.”

“You weren’t a shitty girlfriend.”

He wraps an arm around her shoulder, Lux flinches at the contact before relaxing into the familiar warmth.

“I didn’t know what I wanted and I let get in the way of a good thing,” she kicks her legs like a kid having a tantrum.

“You’re 21, unlike the weirdo Hughes brothers it’s pretty normal to not know what you want Lux.”

He gives her a little squeeze, “I also think us not being in the same city or even country for almost our whole relationship didn’t really help either.”

They sit in silence after that, they’ve always been good at reveling in a quiet moment.

But his hand is so warm on her arm and Lux can’t revel, she can’t hope, she can’t pretend that there’s more to this than just Quinn being nice. And that means fighting her drunken thoughts that are telling her to kiss him or tell him she loves him.

“Samantha seems nice.”

“Yeah?” He looks towards her, trying to hold back a smile as they make eye contact for the first time.

“And it’s nice to see you so happy, I like happy Quinn.”

“I like happy Lux; I have a feeling she hasn’t been around much.”

“No,” she squeaks out, trying to keep the dam of tears together, it doesn’t work for long.

“I’m not dealing with the breakup as well as you.”

“It’s okay,” he pulls her into his chest and lets her cry.

“I’m dealing with it a lot better than I thought I would, and I’m the one who broke up with you,” his voice sounds pinched but Lux doesn’t dare look, “and you’re gonna be okay, I’m not that great.”

Lux gives him a little slap at that comment.

“When you do finally figure out what you want, there’s going to be no stopping you.”

Lux pulls back and kisses the corner of his mouth. There’s no romance in it; it’s a goodbye to what they were.

“I wish we could have worked out, but I guess I’m dodging a bullet by not becoming a Hughes,” she lets out a laugh.

“There’s the Lux, I know,” they’re both grinning like idiots.

He gives her hand one last squeeze as she leaves, hands slowly parting until they’re too far away to touch. It doesn’t fix everything, her heart isn’t completely welded back together, but it’s a start.

[sadie-bug345]

gangs favorite classes🫶🥰🫡☝️🤓

i keep taking breaks from tumblr but i’m really tryna get back in the swing of things🙏

ponyboy:

ahhhh i haven’t reread the book in a while but he probably mentions classes he likes or he doesn’t like

ik he has like a D in his creative writing class or smth but that’s cause he don’t like the restrictions that come with writing for an assignment

in reality i feel like he is an english guy overall

also gives history ngl

more social studies classes

8/10 hes real for that

johnny:

elective guy thru and thru

like photography, art, ceramics, graphic design, etc

he might be amazing at these artsy classes

and that’s why he likes them OR

he just loves the chill classroom vibe yk

also he likes the kids in there too

i feel like johnny gets so annoyed with louder socs who mess around in the classes he likes

cause my guy is actually respectful🫶🙏

10/10 so valid honestly, like photo is fr my favorite class and i feel like johnny would totally fw that

sodapop:

language classes

like spanish, french, german, whatever floats your boat

i think he likes the funny atmosphere of everyone kinda messing up whenever they’re put on the spot to speak in class

just cause no one really cares

ALSO DESTROYS during presentations btw

like either he’s genuinely good

or he just keeps messing up and giggles abt it so much that the teacher starts yelling at him abt it

genuinely has a dgaf mindset to school in general which is very admirable

6/10 i hate my spanish 2 class but its ok😭🙏

darry:

sports med / sports weights

OR anatomy

like he just enjoys sports so anything that relates to that he finds really interesting

he likes the helping people aspect of sports med

and i’m in sports med as well which is actually so fun ngl

he eats with that

always crushes tests

i think he really studies for tests and actually tries

which allows him to get good grades🤓☝️

but he couldn’t care less abt classes he doesn’t like

7/10 valid

dally:

pretends to not give a shit but we know he does when it comes to the gang

bc of this, his fave classes are whatever he has the most friends in

other than that he thinks all classes are terrible and they all feel like years

math guy when he actually understands the concept

but the second things get hard he just gives up

“who needs these hyperbolas anyways man🙄”

lives for lunch and after school cause he just walks around and talks

or fights with other kids but we don’t talk abt that

6/10 im the same way abt math

two-bit:

any class where he can mess with the teacher

like either the teacher is chill and jokes around with him

OR the teacher actually sucks and two just makes them even more mad

lives for class laughter

like soda he enjoys more participation based classes, less the actual content

somehow he always gets sat in the desk right next to the teachers desk so they can keep an eye on him

barely ever gets to sit next to his friends for obvious reasons LMAO

7/10 also valid

steve:

obviously auto mechanic if the school offers it

otherwise he gives a science kid

like biology, physics, anatomy, stuff like that

his brain is just the type to get it

so those classes are barely hard for him

which is SO LUCKY

he the type to just go off about some technical concept the class is going over and explain it perfectly to his friend who needs help and then make a your mom joke the next minute

5/10 i hate physics and i hate how he’d be better at it than me

ANYWAYS REQUEST STUFF PLS🫶😋‼️

(btw i’m going thru requests rn so dw!!)

[painted-bees]

You said Magritte's dad is an undiagnosed ADHD who spent his whole life raised thinking he was neurotypical though he's probably never even heard that word before like everybody else, right?

Ik this is just wishful thinking for the most part but.. do you think he ever does find out at some point? Maybe in his elderly years when Mag finally tells her parents (once she accepts) that she has it when they all thought for years that she didn't?

Also! Are there any particular traits that he shares with Mag or her sister? Maybe stuff that his wife recognised or gets annoyed by but always brushed off or never gave much thought to?

Sorry if my way of phrasing any of this sounds weird but I am genuinely curious about this. (been pondering it for months now).

If he was ever gonna reflect on/consider his own potential of having ADHD, he prolly would have sat with those thoughts already. But it is likely that there's a bit of that ol' boomer generation pride/egotism that gets in the way of him admitting that anything he's gone through has been any greater of a struggle than what "normal"/neurotypical folks experience.

Like Margie, he hyperfixates/focuses on the things that interest him. Unlike Margie, the things that interest him are all very practical and acceptable as avenues to dump all your time and energy into; maths, sciences, business/budgeting/saving. He likes making and managing his finances. he likes the mind of work he gained employment in. He did well in the classes that "mattered" [english, lit, the arts--were all his weakest subjects.]

His wife definately wishes that he spent a little more time being present with her, and doing the things she likes with her--instead of only ever participating in the kinds of activities he enjoys. I think she just assumes it's cuz he's a man, and men are just Like That.

I think he didn't really entertain the idea that he had ADHD largely because Margie's sister was so hyperactive--and neither he nor Margie suffered that symptom to that same degree. Margie's sister struggled with hyperactivity and disruptive behaviour a -lot- growing up.

Funnily enough, I think even his kids would be resistant to the idea that their dad has ADHD--because he's done so well at work, and seems to have no trouble with learning courses and the like. He's always harped on a lot about hard work and discipline...the most important thing he wanted to instill in his kids was a good work ethic and having a sense of pride in whatever tasks they performed.

[nerves-nebula]

Hey. Yknow fusions?

This idea can be taken in multiple ways, but there's 2 most popular ways.

Characters go in sync and fuse, becoming a mesh of both, and usually break apart upon major internal disagreements. Steven Universe style.

Or characters are forced together in a body that is basically hc one person and half another.

But either way I'm curious as to what would occur in your iteration for either situation.

i have a character who's a forced fusion and he has. so many emotional issues about it. like he loves the people he's made of but they kind of hate each other, my mans is Mentally Ill <3

ALSO I think I've said this about a million times but YOU SHOULD JUST KNOW THAT I'm so fucking obsessed with body sharing and fusions (consensual or forced) and the idea of HAVING to share a life with someone. It's one of my favorite concepts to explore.

SO WITH THAT SAID!!! apologies it took so long to answer this, I just wanted to give it the time it deserved <<33

Donnie + Leo: most confused motherfucker ever. hates himself, loves himself, furiously frustrated with their state of being. he wants to be taken care of and NEEDS to be adored. everything she makes is brilliant one moment and terrible the next. he is NOT having a good time and she will make it EVERYONE'S problem. (he/they/she)

Donnie + Raph: What if Raph was more irritable and suicidal? what if debilitating guilt kept him going even FURTHER past his boundaries?? this motherfucker can hold so much guilt. hobbies include sleeping and neurotically upgrading the home security system. has a sort of surveillance state situation going on in the lair and will deny it whenever asked. (faggot gender)

Donnie + Mikey: A sweet, excitable, sensitive, artistic boy :) strong morals and a penchant for making friends. very passionate about mixing art and science (they're better together!!) likely the most functional of all the fusions. still hella mentally ill, but in a sort of "I'm going to go quietly insane in my room and secretly fear everyone thinks im awful" kind of way. (he/they)

Mikey + Leo: Most confident motherfucker ever. always righteously angry about something. no impulse control, too violent for her own good. gets herself hurt a lot. Will attack at the slightest sign of provocation. (any pronouns)

Mikey + Raph: overprotective bundle of energy. somehow always hyper and tired at the same time. really into home decor & repair (mixes artistic desire to create and express oneself, with the pragmatism of fixing up the home). probably loves food more than anyone in the world. (any pronouns)

Raph + Leo: Biggest Big Brother Ever. 100% annoying, 100% loving. Will lie to her little brothers for fun (that bug is poisonous. yeah, and if you touch it you'll die in three days. Oh, you already touched it?? :( better write your will!) he carries the world on his shoulders and cracks jokes about it. (he/she)

anyway here's doodles of my favorite fusion ideas.

[aptericia]

More thoughts on the AI discourse

hrmmm ok. gonna try to keep this brief-ish.

Like I genuinely get why people dislike AI-generated art. I find most examples of it repulsive because they fall into the uncanny valley for me. But something about the criticisms people make of it reeeeally rub me the wrong way. All this emphasis on “it’s not human!!”, “it’s inherently evil because it works by stealing!!”, etc feels honestly quite silly and overreactive (although I will admit that accusations of “inhumanity” and the whole concept of “evil” are upsetting to me for personal reasons). If someone plagiarizes my artwork by copying it directly and trying to get money and/or recognition for it, I’m going to be exactly the same amount of annoyed regardless of if they used “inhuman” tools to do so. I agree that AI-generated images’ lack of humanity makes them poorly suited to a lot of jobs, but that means they are a tool, not that they are “inherently evil”. And I feel like all this discussion of whether it’s “right” for computers to be trained on image data at all distracts from the fact that it’s still humans committing the plagiarism. Data training is just like any other technology or science; it builds upon the collective effort and skill of our species. Yes AI art is a technology that’s actively being used to hurt people, and yes I think there should be laws made to combat that. But forbidding it, or even socially shunning it because of its supposed “inhumanity”, is not the way to do so.

TL;DR I believe that AI-generated imagery has significant shortcomings and is being handled badly by our society. However, most of the arguments against it are based in deep-set disgust and fear, which, while perfectly understandable emotions to have when faced with new challenges, cannot be the basis for moral arguments. AI art is not “evil” for learning from existing work or making it easier for already shitty people to do shitty things.

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 6: The Artists of the future

“Can we go into the back room?” Chapman asks Kim.

“The bosses are back there busy doing payroll,” she replies.

“Ah. Hm.”

I glance around at everyone, and then say one word with my tablet, “Roof.”

“Oh?” Ptarmigan asks.

“Yes,” I say.

Rhoda sighs and thumps her cane.

—

So then, after getting us up onto the roof of my building without notice, where I sleep and sun myself, and what I consider to be my home, Chapman explains most of the details that Ptarmigan has glossed over.

Kimberly remarks early on that Nathan is going to be so annoyed that he’s being left out.

Kim says Cerce and Jill will be, too.

“We’ll fill them in,” Rhoda says, looking meaningfully at Chapman. She’s sitting on a folding stool she brought up from her apartment.

So, according to Chapman, Ptarmigan wasn’t lying about anything, nor telling the full truth.

They’ve been calling themselves Artists, or words that mean a similar thing, since language was invented. And while Chapman had said to us, when we first met, that people like hir had awoken years before dragons did, sie hadn’t specified how many. Eons are, after all, collections of years.

Both Chapman and Ptarmigan are quick and decisive to say that they are not gods. Spirits might be a better description, but they’re both put off by that word as well. They like being called Artists.

Lots of humans have called them gods or spirits before, though. There’s a history there that seems to rankle them both.

Also, there are considerably less Artists than there are dragons. Apparently, somewhere around nine-hundred thousand of them. And their numbers do not shrink or grow, but they are somehow still mortal, in a sense. Though, immortal in a sense as well.

Chapman seems very reluctant to explain that, so Ptarmigan does.

“Oh, come on. We incarnate at will,” she says. “And we experience death like everyone else. Just, maybe more often.”

“So, this time around you’re forty-nine years old?” Kimberly asks.

“No.”

Chapman scoffs and keeps explaining things.

Each Artist has their own medium that no other Artist has, and they can use it to do all sorts of things. Again, there’s reluctant vagueness there, but my amulet of human disguise that lets me look like a pretransition Chapman is pointed to as an example. An Artist’s medium isn’t necessarily pen and paper or clay or something like that. It’s more a particular aspect of spacetime and existence itself, which can then be manipulated more easily with various mundane mediums than with others. So Ptarmigan’s work will not look nor function the same way as Chapman’s, for example, even though they can both use pen and paper to do their Arts.

These Arts of theirs aren’t the end all be all of what they can do. They, of course, have metaphysical functions that are like biological processes that they all share. There’s a basic nature to them that is beyond what human science can currently explain.

And, they actually don’t know how they came into being any more than anyone else does. We’re told by our parents or guardians, upon gaining awareness and memory that sticks, that we were born from our mothers. But very, very few of us actually know that’s true or remember that happening. And no one was there to tell the Artists where they came from.

Now, when it comes to Artists being responsible for the existence of dragons, Chapman has a disagreement with Ptarmigan. While Ptarmigan claims that there is an obvious direct connection, like it was the act of a single Artist, Chapman contradicts her harshly and definitively.

Chapman turns to me and says, “I’ve been studying dragons far longer than anyone like Ptarmigan can even have thought about you. And from what I can tell, you and humanity exist because of each other. We Artists may have shaped your destinies together, and influenced the way the world has turned out, though I’d argue that that’s giving us way too much credit, too. But you would have evolved together regardless.”

“Sure,” Ptarmigan says, not at all agreeing by the use of that word.

“Dragons are like the id of life itself made manifest through humanity’s dreaming,” Chapman says. “Though ‘id’ is a terrible word for it. It’s so annoyingly accurate but misunderstood anyway. And coined by a person who only saw part of what he was trying to talk about.”

“That last bit I can agree with,” Ptarmigan says.

Chapman keeps talking, eying Ptarmigan with a furrowed brow, “And if we Artists hadn’t chosen apes to work with to cultivate civilization, it would have been a different species, but dragons would still exist. You’d have just manifested through their dreams instead. Heck, for all anyone’s investigated, there could be octopus dragons under the ocean right now.”

“That’s a neat idea, but twenty bucks says there aren’t. I’ll check.”

“Would you?”

“Not yet.”

“Fine.”

“Now, crow dragons. I think I might have to concede your point, because I bet there are crow dragons, like, right now,” Ptarmigan says.

“Would they be about this big?” Kim asks, holding her hands up to indicate something maybe slightly larger than a crow.

“Maybe,” Ptarmigan says. “But they’d be dragons. They could get bigger.”

And then everyone looks at me.

I get the gist.

I sit up on my haunches as straight as I can and look at Chapman and then at Rhoda, trying to gauge by how tall they look to me whether I’ve grown or not.

I feel like I have, but I can’t tell.

“Yeah, you’ve grown,” Ptarmigan says.

“How long have you been watching her?” Kimberly asks, wrinkling her nose.

“At least as long as Chapman has,” replies the Artist in black.

“I –” Chapman starts to say, then scrunches hir mouth shut and pouts. Then sie says, “We literally first met a couple Tuesdays ago, right outside our counselor’s office. I was taken by surprise then, and Meg can vouch for me I think. If you’ve been watching her longer than that. Well, you’re the stalker, not me.”

Ptarmigan remains quiet.

“How big is Meg likely to get?” Kim asks in the silence.

“I don’t know,” Chapman says. “Dragons are said to come in all sizes. She could stop growing at the size of a cow, or the size of a school bus, or… bigger? I don’t know.”

Shit.

I like my coffee, and I like my coffee shop, and I don’t want to not be able to go in there anymore.

The idea of being able to step on a twerp of a dragon who’s that much smaller than me, if I have to, is appealing. More appealing than being the twerp who gets stepped on. But I have my domain, and I don’t want to lose it to my natural state of growth, dammit.

I open my mouth to say one of my thirteen words, but then my whole esophagus convulses.

Oh, no.

I just felt lumps in my gizzard move to my crop.

There’s another convulsion, and it causes me to whip my neck downward and aim my head at the rooftop, mouth wide open. Nothing comes out yet, but it’s going to. And everyone watches in mild horror and curiosity. And I don’t like it.

I feel embarrassed.

This feels like something I should be doing in a bathroom.

I drag myself away from the group, closing my mouth forcefully and trying not to let my throat convulse anymore. And I scramble over to the farthest corner of the building just in time to hork up an owl pellet and two small river rocks that look all polished and kinda slimy.

Then I sit up straight and look over my shoulder at everyone with my left eye.

“What if,” Kimberly says to Chapman while everyone else is still staring at me, “you refine that disguise you made for her to do something cool, like, allow me to be a dog?”

Chapman looks at her in disbelief that she’d just come out of left field with that question at a time like this, but then says, “I never told you I made that disguise.”

“Oh, come on,” Kimberly says. “Can you do it?”

“Of course.”

Kimberly points at me, and says, “Then you could also make a disguise for her that just makes her this smaller version of herself, right? So she can keep coming into the shop?”

“How did you know I was worried about that?” Kim asks.

Kimberly looks at her with friendly incredulity, and says, “We’re the Kims.”

“Right!”

There’s just. There’s something really special about knowing a couple of people who sometimes worry about the same things you do, and who end up asking the questions you wanted to ask when you can’t.

“That would be much easier than disguising you as a dog or Meg as a human,” Chapman says, after a pause of worried consideration.

“Well, I think we should get on that, then,” Kimberly says. “It could come in handy.”

I’m not growing that fast, but I’m not going to argue, either.

“Why did you ask about being a dog first?” Kim looks up at Kimberly.

Kimberly looks down at her and smirks and says, “Woof.”

Kim rolls her eyes and says, “You’d be such a mutt, too.”

“Already am, sweetheart!”

“I can’t,” Chapman starts to say, but then, hands halfway gestured toward the rooftop, turns to look at Ptarmigan.

“Are you gonna ask me a question?” Ptarmigan asks.

“What’s the ‘collaborative piece’ you want to work on?” Chapman asks back.

“What do you think would help best to bring an equilibrium of peace between humans and dragons?”

“I really don’t know.”

“OK. Then what do you think would help best to let us Artists live openly and freely as ourselves?” Ptarmigan asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Wanna find out?”

“Are you saying you have an idea?” Chapman questions her.

“I could. I suppose. But what I’m suggesting is that we work together to discover the best idea,” Ptarmigan says. “And maybe ask your friends here to help, too.”

“I might think better as a dog,” Kimberly says, and Kim punches her in the arm.

Ptarmigan points at Kimberly and says, “That might be a start, actually.”

To which Chapman folds hir arms again and scowls, “Are you sure you’re not Raven?”

“Nah. I’m from back East and a bit North, most of the time.”

“It took me the better part of five years to make that pendant that I gave Meghan,” Chapman says. “It was a prototype, and I can definitely make the next one more easily, but it’ll probably take another couple of years if it’s significantly different. It’s just on the edge of my Art, not really part of it. I maybe shouldn’t have been able to do it at all. But I did have big plans for it. Is that why you’re here, Ptarmigan?”

Ptarmigan sighs and puts her hands in her pockets, “I’m going to have to say, ‘yes’.”

“Is it in your Art to be able to do these disguises any easier?” Chapman asks.

“No,” Ptarmigan replies.

Chapman spreads hir arms out and juts hir head forward in a circular motion, eyes wide, lips scrunched up.

And then Ptarmigan turns to look at me and says, “She, on the other hand….”

What?

What?

—

Everyone is sitting in a semicircle around me, right on the black rooftop, though Rhoda is still on her stool. It’s getting to be mid afternoon. Our conversation is long and involved, and the Kims both have mentioned offhand that they need to go home or do something else, but this is too important.

Rhoda, Chapman, and Ptarmigan all have nothing better to do than to focus on me. I appreciate it with Rhoda and Chapman, but with Ptarmigan my feelings remain so mixed.

But, now I’ve got my tablet in front of me, and everyone waits for me to communicate to the best of my ability. And I’m taking the time to ask my questions as precisely as possible, because it’s that important.

“Am I an Artist?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Ptarmigan says.

“Neither do I,” Chapman adds.

“Should I know?” I ask.

“There have definitely been cases where Artists have forgotten who and what they are,” Chapman says. “And, we don’t always recognize each other. Our memories are fluid and sometimes very elusive. It gets that way when you exist for long enough.”

“That,” Ptarmigan points at Chapman.

“Why do you think I can do disguises?” I look at Ptarmigan.

“Well,” she says, looking down at her crossed ankles and working her thumbnails under each other. “My own divinations have shown that the dragon awakening was centered on you. It rippled outward from you. And, you do tend to notice it when someone uses their Art on you in some way.”

Chapman scowls at her, “You really have been stalking us.”

“How could I not?” Ptarmigan asks.

“I don’t know. By just not stalking us?”

“I was lurking. Like in a forum.”

“Rude.”

“It’s not considered rude when it’s online.”

“There’s a users list!”

“Not on every site.”

“Children!” Rhoda interjects. “Let Meghan ask her questions.”

They both fall silent and turn to me again.

“What if I’m not an Artist and can’t do disguises?” I ask next.

“Then we’ll have to try working on something else,” Ptarmigan says.

“Why disguises? Why will those help?” I follow up.

“Well,” Ptarmigan says. “Before this, you identified as a therian, correct?”

“Yes.”

“But there were a bunch of therians who did not change into dragons.”

“Yes.”

“Or whatever else they are.”

“Yes.”

“What if we had a mass awakening, or mass metamorphosis of the rest of the therians, otherkin, alterhumans, and other non-humans, whatever they call themselves?” Ptarmigan asks. “One like the one we just had, where initially it just fits, and everyone close to the subjects understands them better and doesn’t outright reject them? Wouldn’t that be neat?”

I know it would make a lot of people really happy. And I think I can kind of see the reasoning behind the idea, but it also sounds like so much more chaos in the long run. I wonder.

I make to type something out, but Ptarmigan interrupts to elaborate.

“What I’m suggesting is that we make the problem that people like Säure are trying to ‘fix’ just so much bigger than they can address,” she says. “Force the issue. Make it undeniably the new reality.”

“You mean, I’d have to be a real dog?” Kimberly asks. “All the time?”

“Do you want to be?” Ptarmigan asks.

“I actually don’t know,” Kimberly responds. “I actually kind of like being a doggirl instead of a girldog. But I’d love to see what being a girldog is like for at least a little bit. Maybe… Yeah. A werepoodle.”

“Poodle?!” Kim nearly shouts at her.

“You’ve seen Cody,” Kimberly says. “That dude’s so chill.”

“Children,” Rhoda says, more quietly this time.

Everyone looks at me again.

“Is this really a good idea?” I ask. And then I look at each of my friends after looking at Ptarmigan, inviting them to speak up as well.

Rhoda clears her throat and takes a moment to make sure everyone is looking at her, then says, “It’s the just idea. Allowing everyone to live authentically as their true selves is just. It’s right. It’s the way the universe should be. But how we go about it? That’s the Thing. Isn’t it?” She looks at me, and asks, “Can you make it so that every new baby that’s born doesn’t have the dysphoria? That they are born the way they’re supposed to be?”

I go to type on my tablet in response, but she asks more questions.

“Can you make it so that all the world’s laws are changed gracefully to accept how these newly out people will exist, and make accommodations for them? Can you guarantee that there won’t be more violence?”

“No,” I say, and I huff. This is the first time I’ve heard her be this stern and demanding of me, and it feels really jarring and uncomfortable. But it would also be nice if she let me fully talk in response.

She’s scowling at me silently, waiting, but glancing alternatively at Chapman and Ptarmigan as well.

I take a deep breath and angrily knuckled out a sentence, feeling rushed, “I not Artist or god, no idea, don’t know.” Then I add, “I Meghan.”

“That’s what I thought,” Rhoda concludes. Then she turns to Chapman and Ptarmigan and says, “I also think you two, and the rest of your kind, should learn to let mortals handle their own affairs.”

Oh. Huh. Shit. I feel like this is changing the dynamic of my whole social group, and my potential partnerships with Rhoda and Chapman. I don’t like it. I don’t want it. And it already feels too late.

But also, I see a problem.

“No,” I say.

“What?” Rhoda asks, snapping her attention back to me.

I stomp a foot and then type out my response, “Other Artists won’t stop because you ask. We need these two.”

Rhoda sighs and says, “I understand that, Meghan. I really do. But I’m saying what I’m saying for a reason. It needs to be said.”

I tilt my head. I’d frown, but my face doesn’t actually do that.

“It’s what we need to be working for,” Rhoda explains to me, focusing so intently on me that I feel like her words aren’t meant for the others to acknowledge in any way. “If we don’t state that clearly from the beginning and don’t all agree to it, then I can’t be part of this. And I don’t think you should be, either.”

“Amen,” Kimberly says.

Rhoda glances at her, but turns back to me.

“Okay, “ I say. Then use my tablet to say, “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Rhoda says. “But thank you.”

—

The conversation wound down pretty quick after that, and everyone finally left when Nathan showed up at the shop with three pounds of ground chuck for me as a welcome home gift.

Nobody wanted to see me eat that, but I am so grateful for it.

I’m pretty sure that there’s an office window to the East of me where, if you were to sit in that office and look out that window toward the sunset, you’d see me silhouetted against the sun, head up and back, jaws open and working, choking down some locally grown, grass fed, ethically sourced ground beef.

No river rocks needed.

The thing is, I enjoy eating like this. It looks uncomfortable, but my body is made for it and while I don’t really get flavors I enjoy, the sensations of eating this way feel good. I’m satisfied in a way that no human will ever experience.

If I want flavors, I just stick my tongue out and taste the air. But when I’m in the city I try not to do that too much.