#don’t like this one too much tbh

[bri-cheeses]

| May 11th | Prompt: Lollipop | Word Count: 521 | @rosekillermicrofic |

Evan had a lollipop. He had a lollipop, and Barty wanted to die.

It wasn’t just the way Evan looked while enjoying his sucker, tongue gliding sensuously over the candy and mouth looking like it had been drug up from the deepest regions of Barty’s brain specifically to torture him. No, it was in part the fact that Evan was currently talking to another guy, talking and laughing with him.

Barty knew that Evan was only doing it to make him jealous, but he couldn’t deny that Evan’s plan was working. He stared intently at Evan and his companion, wishing the latter of the two a slow death.

Evan must’ve felt Barty’s heavy gaze on him. His eyes flicked over to where Barty was standing and he grinned, a languid smile spreading across his face as he took Barty in. Barty’s breath hitched as Evan sucked his lollipop, holding eye contact with Barty all the while.

Barty stared. His mouth may have dropped open slightly.

He watched as Evan’s expression took on a feral look, eyes still pinning Barty in place. He was powerless to do anything as Evan looked at him like that, sucker raised to his mouth, lips looking deliciously red as he sucked on his lollipop once more.

Then he raised a hand and curled a finger, beckoning Barty. And truthfully, who was Barty to not obey?

Barty wasn’t sure if his legs carried him over there of his own free will or if Evan had used some arcane magic to do his bidding. It certainly felt like Evan’s call was irresistible, that’s for sure. But either way, Barty didn’t particularly care once he was by Evan's side, staring down at the boy Evan had been talking to.

“Having fun over here, are we?” Barty said. His eyes flicked over to Evan's companion, giving him an unimpressed once-over, and Barty curled an arm around Evan’s waist and tugged him to his side. He didn’t care if he was being unfairly possessive—after all, he hadn’t been the one to start this game in the first place.

He was reminded of this fact as Evan reached a hand up to grab the stick of his sucker, pulling it out of his irresistible mouth with a pop.

“Yes,” Evan said simply.

The boy looked between them uneasily. Barty smirked as he saw his eyes fall to the arm wrapped around Evan’s waist.

“I, uh, should probably get… going.” His eyes flicked guiltily towards Barty.

“That sounds like the first good idea you’ve had all day,” Barty said, then jerked his chin. “Run along now.”

A sense of satisfaction washed over Barty as the guy did just that.

Turning back to Evan, he saw that he had not yet abandoned his lollipop. No, it was now resting against his lips, which were shiny from the sucker.

“I don’t think that you should be allowed to have lollipops,” Barty murmured down to him. “It’s entirely too sinful.”

“I know,” Evan popped the object in question back into his mouth, then grinned up at Barty. “That’s why I like them in the first place.”

[turtleblogatlast]

One of the biggest things that makes me see Leo as trans is absolutely the size of his carapace in comparison to his brothers’.

And I’m not talking about height! I’m specifically looking at his shell here, because when you compare him to the others, particularly Donnie who is nearly the same height as Leo, it’s very clear that Leo’s carapace is much longer in proportion to the rest of his body.

Like - standing side by side, even though Donnie is shorter his carapace ends noticeably higher up than Leo’s does. And I like this not only because it really helps push the idea that Leo could very likely be trans (or intersex!), but it’s also just a fun design difference between them.

(It also lends way to future scenarios of Donnie eventually getting taller than Leo, but sitting down still has Leo being the taller one haha.)

[clock-06]

Curly Mouthwashing I dislike you but I could never hate you.

Mouthwashing has me by the throat rn shoutout to ADHD and hyperfixations

The only truly innocent person on board is Anya, Daisuke I love you dude but I feel like you could’ve helped Anya and just kinda assumed someone else was gonna do it. Swansea, you kinda redeemed yourself but not enough.

Jimmy deserves to live in horse purgatory forever

[tariah23]

One of the main reasons why I used to avoid Isekai’s, and fantasy works in general, like the plague is because of how over saturated they’d become with things that didn’t feel like they even belonged to the genre to begin with… it’s not too hard to find works that stand out but so much of those works have been pushed down and forgotten, it just sucks.

[myriam-draws]

some starfires i’ve drawn a bit over time i miss her (i refuse to read titans 2023)

[unordinary-diary]

Seraphina and Arlo: The Brainwashing of High Tiers

Exposition:

— Remi, Episode 50.

There is a heavy implication that Seraphina and Arlo were raised in much the same way. The pressure on Seraphina comes from her parents, so I’ll extrapolate that the same goes for Arlo. This raises the question: how do the authorities create such a strong societal pressure on such a small percentage of the population? Most high tiers will probably not know any other high tiers besides their parents. Take Wellston Private High School for example: it’s the most prestigious private school around, and canonically has the “highest concentration of high tiers in the region”. There are six high tiers in Wellston. Apply this to god tiers specifically, and there are only three. Not to mention that this current group of students is uniquely strong, even for Wellston. In Rei’s senior year, he was the strongest at 5.8 max.

So much of this brainwashing relies on the parents to do all of the work, and it only takes one or two people to break the cycle. So how are the authorities creating this immense pressure? One tactic could be by isolating high tiers. There is a very widespread concept that one shouldn’t associate with those outside their level range. A caste system like this that affects everyone is much easier to create and maintain than an expectation for a small group, and it also means that high tiers are only being influenced by those who are also high level. This creates an echo chamber. I’ve researched cults and how they brainwash victims, and the first step in the process is isolating them in exactly this way.

But, if there are so few high tiers, how the hell are they supposed be isolated from other groups? The answer is that high tiers are just isolated in general. Take a look at Arlo: his only friend is Remi, and even her, he keeps at an arm’s length. Arlo is only close with Remi in the first place because he was close with Rei, who, at the time of meeting Arlo, was presumably close in level with him. [EDIT: I forgot about Holden, which I think says a lot about his relevance. He is kept at more than an arm’s length and doesn’t seem to have any actual influence on Arlo, let alone a deep relationship. He is also not presented as an equal.] Take a look at Seraphina: before meeting John, she didn’t seem to have any friends other than possibly Arlo. Seraphina and Arlo pre-John seemed to have had more of a professional relationship, and while they were not close in level, Arlo did fit the bill of being a fellow god tier, and strong enough to also be brainwashed.

Now let’s look at Remi. In episode 60, Cecile says to Remi: “And yet here you are... Always hanging around those two monkeys, Blyke and Isen. Letting them treat you as an equal even though you’re in a completely different league.” This struck me as odd because, aside from Cecile herself, the Wellston students closest in level to Remi were Arlo, Blyke, and Isen. And who is she friends with? She actually was doing a pretty good job at following that social convention, unless Cecile wanted to be friends with Remi, which she clearly didn’t. But... her friends were still not close enough to her level. Was she supposed to just not have friends at all? The answer seems to be a resounding yes. Can you think of any genuine friends that Cecile has either?

Friendship simply isn’t considered a necessity for high tiers.

But... why is it that Arlo and Seraphina were brainwashed differently? Creating a societal norm for an isolated group of people is one thing, because those people’s mindsets feed into each other. Putting pressure on individual families to keep them in line, but doing it all in different ways? That would be near impossible. My theory is that Seraphina recieved the typical high tier brainwashing, and that Arlo was raised differently because he was being groomed to work for the authorities. Seraphina didn’t have a set career path planned out for her, but if she’s trying to be “perfect” by the standards of those controlling her, she’s bound to end up going in a direction that pleases them. Arlo on the other hand was specifically planned to become an authority figure. That’s why his brainwashing is so centered on leadership. Also, growing up with direct contact to the authorities makes it more possible for them to customize his brainwashing in this way.

But does all of this apply to high tiers in general, or is it specific to god tiers? Let’s take a look at the high tiers in Wellston. We have Seraphina, John, Arlo, Terrence, Remi, Cecile, and Blyke. John is a unique circumstance because he wasn’t raised by high tiers, so we’ll cross him off the list. Terrence was also unique, so we can cross him off as well. Remi was different from the norm as well. Why is that? Well, Remi actually wasn’t raised by high tiers either. Rei said on screen that both of his parents were elites. We can cross Remi off. Blyke doesn’t fit the bill either, but that’s easy to explain. He was an elite for a large part of the story, and he shot up rather quickly. We don’t know much of his family, but he probably wasn’t expected to be a high tier at all, and was raised as an elite. (All of this also serves to emphasize how much of this brainwashing comes from a person’s parents.) That leaves only Seraphina, Arlo, and Cecile to look at.

Cecile does seem to have high tier brainwashing, but it’s not nearly as intense as with Seraphina and Arlo. She doesn’t seem “obsessive”, and she wasn’t one of the examples Remi mentioned in chapter 50. It’s clear that high tiers are brainwashed in general, but god tiers are kept on a much shorter leash. This makes sense, obviously, because keeping a population in control like that is less necessary the lower the level. However, it’s also a chicken an egg situation: god tiers are both more important to keep in control, and also easier to keep in control. It’s important to note just how many exceptions we had to cross off. People like Remi and Blyke aren’t actually that unusual— a lower leveled high tier is much more likely to have non-high tier parents, or to have not always been a high tier themselves, or just in general, to have way more day-to-day interaction with non-high tiers. The brainwashing gets more and more diffused the lower down the ladder you go.

[9ofspades]

It’s disability pride month, and if you are disabled in the U.S. from Long Covid I want you to know that you’re not alone, and you’re valid in whatever you feel. Whether that’s sorrow at your new problems or rage at society for failing you, you are valid, and it is truly messed up that society is continuing to fail you.

[theminecraftbee]

an explosive repetition

this is a gift for @caracuuw for @mcytblrholidayexchange! please enjoy some time travel fwhimmy! this is crossposted to the ao3 collection here. i had fun writing it; happy holidays, and enjoy!

===

The embers of the campfire burn low during the yearly meeting of Emperors. People cheer to the newest of their number; the Codfather had been late, but he’d arrived, panting and covered in leaves and apologizing. They’d talked in quiet tones about things only people who were the emperors of their own nations could discuss, about the year to come, about the power afforded to them, and, while not about politics—the campfire meeting had never truly been for politics—they discussed what to expect from each other on an interpersonal level. Something changes in a person, when the life of a nation is tied to them. That’s what being an emperor means, even if these days only about half of them go by ‘emperor’ and only just about as many inherited their positions; even now, Fwhip remembers the day he was given the leadership title over his sister, and the way the sudden weight of the entire nation settled over his shoulders, and he knew what being an emperor was. 

He feels a bit like that now, actually, except also significantly more on fire.

Not literally. He is no longer literally on fire. But, like, it’s sort of hard to forget the feeling of being on fire, even briefly. It lingers under his skin. That hadn’t happened when he’d gone from Fwhip to Count Fwhip. If that had involved being set on fire he probably would have tried harder to refuse at the time instead of being all like ‘oh hey I am no longer the unwanted second son but a vital part of this nation’, because being on fire sucks, and he doesn’t recommend it to anyone.

Pretending he is not on fire also sucks. If it weren’t for the fact he looked across the campfire, saw Jimmy appear, and saw him shaking in a very particular way too, he probably wouldn’t have been able to hide how on-fire he was. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to navigate the conversations that are normally held at a campfire meeting. He’s pretty sure he barely navigated them as it was. He had been too busy giving Jimmy baffled looks at every free moment, trying to figure out why he was technically no longer literally on fire, and freaking out about how these were all the conversations he’d had last year, actually, and he sort of remembered them, and hey maybe he only has to pay half attention anyway because if they’re the same conversations as last year, there won’t be anything important for him to know, because he already knows it, and oh man what had he gotten himself into now, and—

The point is that during their secretive magic meeting and all that, Fwhip had mostly been on fire. Is he thinking straight? He’s not thinking straight.

He waits until basically everyone has left (Pixlriffs hasn’t yet, but the Copper King has a tendency to stick around at these things and Fwhip doesn’t think he’ll get rid of him) before rounding on Jimmy.

“You,” he says.

“Me? What do you mean me? This is your fault!” Jimmy says back.

“If you hadn’t had your stupid idea of making peace or whatever…”

“Oh, well excuse me, but it was your machine that blew up. I’m still on fire!” Jimmy pauses. “Metaphorically! I’m metaphorically on fire!”

“I mean, it’s not a metaphor when it feels a lot like actual fire, that’s not what a metaphor is I think?” Fwhip says.

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asks.

“I mean, I think so?” Fwhip says.

They both pause for a moment to contemplate this. Jimmy shrugs. “That’s not important!” he decides at last. “The point is. You set us on fire! You blew us up! You blew us up so hard we time traveled!”

“And would that have happened if I’d just been using salmon power? No! No, it has to be your stupid cod that did it!” Fwhip says.

“Well I think it was your stupid face!” Jimmy says. Fwhip gasps.

“You take that back,” he says.

“Make me!” Fwhip says.

“Um,” Pixlriffs says, staring wide-eyed at the two of them. “You know, I’m just going to leave now. And leave you to… your time travel? No wonder I’ve had a headache for the past week.”

Fwhip and Jimmy stare at him.

“I’m very good at pretending I don’t know the future, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” Pixlriffs says, and before Fwhip can interrogate him on that, he darts into the woods. It’s a little awkward, with none of the mysterious grace a statement like that should have, and all the gangly arms and legs the Copper King has had for ages. For a man with so much mystery around him, he’s always been a little too silly, a little too awkward, and a little too approachable. Fwhip’s always wondered if it’s a trap. Fwhip wonders if he’s actually going to not tell anyone. Fwhip… 

Fwhip turns back to Jimmy and discovers Jimmy staring after the Copper King, a wistful, fond, and exhausted expression on his face. It’s so out of place with the yelling, and the time travel, and with Fwhip’s knowledge that Jimmy’s the pettiest emperor on the entire continent. It makes Fwhip’s stomach hurt.

It’s quiet.

“Sorry,” Jimmy says. “Sorry. I haven’t seen him in a long time. He was never really the same after—I haven’t seen him in a while. I should go have tea with him. There’s a fancy word for that where he’s from but I never remember it. He’s always been nice about that.”

“Oh,” Fwhip says.

“He looks less tired,” Jimmy says.

“Yeah, well you look kind of like shit,” Fwhip says.

Jimmy smiles, low and sad. “Yeah, well, you look even more—more bad. When did you last sleep?”

Fwhip doesn’t answer.

Jimmy shakes his head. “Anyway, enough of that. I’m supposed to be yelling at you about the time travel. Did you really blow us up so badly we went back in time?”

“Do you have a better answer?”

“I mean, I don’t know! I don’t want to be dead! I’m already on fire.”

Fwhip thinks of rumors about the Copper King and omens. He swallows. “Yeah, you know what, I’ll buy it’s time travel. Time travel! Back to the beginning of all of this! Just when things were finally starting to really work out for everyone!”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says. “Just when.”

They both sit down in front of the embers of the fire, almost at the same moment. It’s surprisingly cold now that the fire has mostly died. It shouldn’t be cold at the same time as being on fire, but maybe it’s the absence of any new fire to warm them with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’d been sitting, trying to have a conversation, getting used to the fire. He wouldn’t know. It seems distinctly like the kind of thing that Gem would know, except Gem has only just ascended to officially being Head Wizard, and she hadn’t had a war with a demon yet to really dig into the archives. She might not know. She might not tell him. He understands if she doesn’t. She’d always been the more responsible sibling in most ways that matter, and…

“Fuck,” Fwhip says. “Fuck, I blew us up and we’re back in time.”

“Stop swearing,” Jimmy says. “Besides, it was my fault, wasn’t it? Council told me not to do it and everything. I’m a failure like that.”

“Only one of us has got failure in the name, buddy.”

“Hah. Yeah, true, your parents suck.”

“It’s supposed to be for good luck. Shows what the Grimlands know.”

He shudders. He’s still on fire. He doesn’t know how to stop being on fire. He thinks maybe it’s all in his head, except for the fact Jimmy’s on fire too. It just—it had happened so fast. One moment, he and Jimmy had been shaking hands, and announcing they were burying the hatchet, and unveiling the salmon-cod reactor. It had been a good moment. Sure, there had been no way he and Jimmy would have stopped disagreeing, but they were committing to no more wars. To attempting to talk. To attempting peace. Fwhip hadn’t really wanted to hurt Jimmy for months anyway, and they’d both known it. Too many other things had happened, and even if the salmon and cod had stood between them before, the salmon-cod reactor would prove that with their powers together, they could be something more.

He’d turned to shake Jimmy’s hand one more time, the papers sign.

Then, the world had exploded.

It had hurt. He’s still on fire now, but it doesn’t hurt like that momentary flash of light, the twinned look of horror in Jimmy’s eyes, the realization something had gone horribly wrong, and then the world exploding around him. Someone had screamed; Fwhip still isn’t certain if that had been him. Fwhip had reached, a moment late, for the emergency stop. He’s not sure why, in hindsight. Some ingrained instinct to try to hit that button whenever something went wrong, maybe.

He’d been on fire. The world had been on fire. The earth had shaken. Jimmy had said something.

Then, the world exploded again, proving that instinct to hit the emergency stop a moment too late had been right after all, and Fwhip had woken up just outside of the campfire meeting. He went through it on autopilot.

“So, uh,” Jimmy starts. “We time traveled, huh?”

“We sure did,” agrees Fwhip.

“What do we do now? Because like, if we change stuff, do we vanish and die? I don’t want to vanish and die because I changed the time stream, man,” Jimmy says, wringing his hands nervously. His gills flare in and out on his neck.

“Pixlriffs literally already knows we time traveled.”

“And that was your fault, wasn’t it?”

“Mine? How was it my fault? You were arguing with me!”

“No, you were arguing with me!”

“Well, he’s your friend, so it’s your fault. I barely know the guy in this time.” Fwhip pauses. “I mean, I knew him later, when we were all sort of on the same side. He’s fun! Had some great ideas about how to handle corruption, liked explosions well enough, the whole works. But right now, he’s your friend, not mine.”

Jimmy pauses and frowns. “Oh, right. Hey, wait, that doesn’t make it my fault!”

“I think it does.”

“Look, I don’t know what to do with time travel either. Maybe Pixlriffs won’t say anything? I mean, he’ll tease us about it, but he doesn’t normally say anything about his whole… you know, right? It’s fine. It’s fine!”

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe that won’t change much,” Fwhip concedes.

Finally, the burning is starting to fade as the sun sets. Fwhip realizes he doesn’t know what that means. Maybe, he thinks grimly, he’d been burning because he’d set the Grimlands ablaze, too, but there isn’t enough Grimlands left to burn. Maybe it’s just time, though. Maybe it’s nothing quite so terrible. Besides, it’s good, the not being on fire. Very good, that. He doesn’t want to be on fire. Being on fire is… bad.

Lots of things are bad, actually. Maybe he doesn’t feel like he’s burning because he’s no longer at risk of erasing himself from existence? Or, worse—because he already is being erased from existence.

“Gods, Jimmy, I might actually kill you for this one,” Fwhip says. “I’m at least going to do something you hate.”

“So, good news, you’re supposed to steal my music disc about now,” Jimmy says. 

“…really?”

“Did—did you not even remember that’s why this started?” Jimmy asks incredulously.

“I don’t know man, I don’t care about a stupid shitty music disc right now!”

“I can’t believe you. I can’t believe I was making peace with you. I can’t believe I was going to kiss you and everything. The nerve!”

“Listen, I thought it was a religious conflict! The cod and salmon thing! You know, inherent irreconcilable differences and all that!” Fwhip says defensively. He pauses. He goes back. “What was that last bit?”

“What, your nerve?”

“No, the part about—you were going to kiss me?”

Jimmy goes very, very still. “Ignore that,” Jimmy says. “Ignore it. Ignore it! It doesn’t matter right now. Besides, we’re enemies again now, right?”

“Right,” Fwhip says, feeling strangely disappointed. “I mean, I would have kissed you back. Even when we were enemies.”

“…really?” Jimmy says.

“I mean, yeah, I like people who might stab me,” Fwhip says.

“I don’t know how to take that,” Jimmy says. 

“Yeah, it’s a problem.”

“I can imagine.”

It’s awkward now. Now that Fwhip isn’t on fire, it’s—it’s awkward between them. Fwhip doesn’t know where he stands. He should probably mock Jimmy about having a crush, but it’s a little late to do that, on account of having admitted to having a crush himself. It feels like the kind of thing they should ignore at the moment, really, given that…

“Anyway, I guess I’m stealing a music disk and maybe your codfather hat?” Fwhip says.

“I’m going to have to act like killing the dragon is a good idea,” Jimmy says, vaguely sick-sounding.

“Relax, it’ll be fun for me to get to yell at you.”

“Sure.”

They stare at each other for a while. The thing is, really, that Fwhip doesn’t want to die.

“I mean, it can’t be that much harder to do the same way a second time, right?” Jimmy says, trying to hype himself up. “I’ve already done it once! It’s like, I already know how to do all of this for sure! Yeah! It can’t—it can’t be that bad. Can I kiss you though? Since you know anyway. It won’t be changing anything, promise, I’ve just—since I was going to do it. To seal the alliance. Our secret alliance. Can we at least have one of those? So when—when it’s all my fault that a demon’s here and all—”

“That really wasn’t your fault,” Fwhip says. 

“Please?” Jimmy says.

Fwhip considers it. Fwhip shrugs. “Yeah. Secret alliance, until we get the real one in the end. Secret alliance to preserve the future.”

Jimmy sniffles. “Yeah, that.”

They both awkwardly lean in. Fwhip has never kissed Jimmy before; he’d always imagined it would taste kind of slimy. It doesn’t, although it does taste a little like fish, which makes Fwhip sort of want to laugh hysterically. Instead, he just pulls in deeper. Suddenly, they’re both kissing with the desperation of the two only people in the whole world; they might as well be. They’re the only ones who know. They’re the only ones who are here. They’re the only ones who are about to have to do—to do everything. A second time. Then, they’re kissing with tongue, and Fwhip nearly pushes Jimmy to the ground trying to press his entire body into Jimmy’s. One of them might be crying; it might even be Fwhip. He’s on fire again, he thinks. He’s not sure what to do. It’s all gone. It’s all gone. They’re starting over, hurtling towards a happy ending interrupted by the worst mistake imaginable, teetering on an edge with only each other, and they’d only just learned to stand next to each other without threats like a week ago. Fwhip doesn’t know what to do. Fwhip doesn’t know what to do. So he just keeps going, the two of them practically clawing at each other trying to dig into the skin of someone who at least is trapped with them, and—

Jimmy, suddenly, as though spooked, pushes Fwhip away. They stand there panting for a moment. Fwhip tries to bring his head back down to reality.

“Why do you have gunpowder on your mouth?” Jimmy asks, almost like he’s saying something else.

Fwhip really does get hysterical, then. “Oh, wow, okay, secret alliance. Okay, we’re doing this. Okay. Okay! You taste like fish.”

“I am a fish.”

“Not anymore!” Fwhip says, and he cackles. “You aren’t—you aren’t anymore, remember? You and Lizzie were all—cursed? Anti-cursed? Shit, do you even know you're siblings yet?”

“Oh, seas,” Jimmy says.

“Yeah. Yeah!” 

“I don’t—Fwhip, I don’t know if I can do this,” Jimmy says.

“Tough shit,” Fwhip says. “Because I can’t do it either.”

They stand there staring at each other for a while.

“But what happens if we screw it up?” Jimmy asks. “What happens if—even if changing it’s okay, until we blew ourselves up, it was—”

“It was good,” whispers Fwhip. “It was good. We were happy. It was okay. It was good.”

“What happens if we never get that back?”

Neither Fwhip nor Jimmy can answer it. They just keep standing there by the campfire, waiting for an answer that won’t come. Instead, the minutes keep slipping away, and the weight of everything that’s just been undone gets heavier, and heavier, and heavier, until Fwhip would prefer the fire.

“Okay,” Jimmy says. “Okay. I have—I still have a nation to run.”

“Yeah, so do—so do I. Here. A personal—this is a personal number. Only Gem has it. If you call using it—”

“Okay. Yeah. Secret alliance,” agrees Jimmy. “We kissed on it and everything, that makes it unbreakable, I think. I don’t know. I haven’t kissed many people. Does this make us—the only real couple I know is Joel and Lizzie, really, and I’m not sure we should model this off of Joel, as much as I love him.”

“Jimmy, if we make it to the end of this without going insane, I will propose to you, and we’ll have a wedding to make it official. We can upstage Joel and Lizzie and everything. I don’t care what’s actually a good idea,” Fwhip says.

“You wouldn’t,” Jimmy says.

“You’re one to talk,” Fwhip says.

“Thank you,” Jimmy says, and it’s the single most desperate thing Fwhip has ever heard the other emperor say. He never wants to hear it again.

“It’s—we’re in it together, man. I’m not that selfish,” Fwhip says. 

Jimmy rubs his eyes. “Good to know we’re both learning that about ourselves.”

“Can we stay here a little longer?” Fwhip says. “Just until the embers run out.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says.

They do. They sit next to each other. At some point, Fwhip grabs Jimmy’s hand. He stares as the fire burns down. Neither of them say much else. He doesn’t know if that’s for the better or not. Maybe they should talk more. Maybe they should try to work out what they should do, or what a secret alliance even looks like. Maybe they should argue again, because that’s fun, but—

Fwhip doesn’t know. This works, at least.

They can figure it out tomorrow. Yeah. That seems like a decision that won’t have consequences at all.

“Hey, Jimmy—” he says, and then stops. “Never mind.”

“You’re weird,” Jimmy says. “I can’t believe I time traveled with you.”

“Ditto, man.”

They can figure it out tomorrow.

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3

[womenaremypriority]

I can understand transmasc people who seem to mostly have an issue with simply being called women, tbh. I can perfectly understand why it would mostly be a linguistic issue for some. From a young age, I was jealous of men and aware they were considered less cool than women. This is even worse now because of the internet- I’ll show you one example.

Why is it gendered? Why are men the people who would understand this? This type of joke has always been on the internet, and it’s probably taken on a different form in the past ~5 years or so, but the assumption that the listener/reader is male and that men are the cool, fun sex are a constant. There are small pockets more oriented towards women but most isn’t. It’s always, always bothered me, and I can absolutely see some women just having better connotations with the word ‘man’ than ‘woman’.

Even though a part of you understands it’s misogyny, and it’s not a reflection of actual women, you eventually start to feel like it’s you that’s the problem. I truly feel like if I had kept going down the same route, I would have eventually identified as a trans man, and not nonbinary like I had a first. My brain started to interpret the anguish at seeing things like this and wanting to belong with men as proof I’ve always been one. Even if you have women you care about and don’t consciously think all women fit a certain mold, it still doesn’t feel right. This is made even worse by the trans community acting like ‘cis women’ is a boring thing to be. It sucks. I’m not going to deny that for some individuals sex dysphoria is very real, and not every one shares this experience, but this has existed in my life for a long time, and it felt very real to me at the time. So I do think for plenty of women, it’s not our female body, it’s not feminine clothing, it’s simply being referred to as a women.

[multifandom-lesbian09]

The thing I hate about anti Stereks (I’m an anti Sterek btw) is that a lot of them are also anti Stiles. I mean I get that some Stiles stans are like incredibly annoying and try to put ALL of the attention on him, but that doesn’t make the CHARACTER bad. It’s like anti Destiels being anti Cas because some people like him more than Sam. Like come on guys people can have favorite characters.

[shepards-folly]

Hi! I'm here to be a bad influence on you again, do you still like The Mason? I certainly like how you draw him so...

(consider this a free pass to doodle a little guy)

OH HO HO HO!!! Thank you for the ask :]! I will always take any excuse to draw characters i like

here’s a bunch of quick masons for the price of one aka i took this as motivation to compile some doodles and semi-finished things of them i had lying around!

i’ll probably post some close ups or ramblings in a rb later too! idk man yall might see alone on a friday night as its own post cause i think abt it all the time….

[ct-multifandom]

I don’t usually make posts like this, but I’ve been seeing a lot of anti-intellectual junk lately, and I really think we need to put the word “pretentious” up on a shelf until people learn what it actually means.

It doesn’t describe someone who likes artsy-fartsy deep meaning media. People who are pretentious are fake. They’re posers trying to be sophisticated and unique, not like other girls. They pretend to only like stuff they think will make them sound cool when they talk about it. They want to act like they know something you don’t, and they want attention for it.

By definition, if you genuinely enjoy something, you can’t be pretentious. If it resonates with you, and you analyze it, and you don’t care what people think, that’s the polar opposite, actually. If you love obscure experimental prog music, if you watch underground high concept indie films through English teacher eyes, if you spend hours in a modern art museum reading each piece as a vessel for storytelling, if your backpack’s full of poetry books that inspire you, if you play underrated games that were someone’s passion project, if you have an interest in studying the classics or the masters, you are not pretentious.

Of course, some people just don’t like some stuff, and that’s fine, but that’s not what this is about. Don’t let anti-intellectuals shame you for enjoying things just because your interests are inaccessible to them, because they refuse to be brave and put effort into critical thinking. You’re not stuck up for refusing to overlook the craft of artists.

[slav-every-day]

[rubinaitoart]

The Gravity Falls resurgence has dragged back memories of a crossover AU that one of my partners and I had, and I’m sorely tempted to do some sketches of it later today…

(Small explanation in the tags for anyone interested)

[chaosduckies]

Writing update hopefully later today!

Let’s just say for this one you never really realize just how much borrowers rely on humans… (Just to let you know that I have been writing and not dead)