#the moving stuff thingy yeah

[trueloveistreacherous]

Hit the ball. Actually fucking hit the ball. You afraid you're gonna hurt me? Pussy. 

Zendaya as Tashi Duncan in Challengers (2024) dir. Luca Guadagnino

[edensgaia]

Tbh my feelings on the sunkissed breakup would be very different if the first instance of a betrayal/doing things behind each others back/not taking each other seriously started with the whole giving Bacon hearts thingy, but it didn't, the trust hasn't been totally there for a longer time than that

[nevasarini]

sketching outfits to make my own spotlights for some of the 4th place characters (b/c Aya and Klug and Lidelle and Maguro deserve to look fancy)

(Legamunt too but uhhhh I’m not as interested in him sorry?)

Also I will do Maguro but I like JUST decided he should wear hakama to match with Ringo and that’s gonna involve a lot of googling to figure out what I can do with that. It will have fish on it tho. (also I was gonna put him in a suit but then I looked at ALL THE OTHER GUYS and like. They all have suits too. He deserves something different)

[marscardigan]

when you need the job done

neighbor!ellie williams x reader

neighbor!ellie universe

summary: moving out alone for the first time might be scary—and awfully exhausting. you’re lucky you have a very handy lesbian as a neighbor.

word count: 6.8k

THE BOX you were carrying was way too heavy. You knew it the second you stubbornly yanked it out of the trunk, but by the time you realized how unwise that was, you were already halfway up the steps to your new apartment. The one that didn't have an elevator.

A bead of sweat ran down your temple. Your arms were shaking, the cardboard creaking ominously, and you could feel the edge of a textbook digging into your thigh through the bottom of the box.

You grunted softly as you stagger forward, muttering under your breath, "okay, stupid idea, officially noted."

That’s when you heard it. A door creaking open. You looked up, flustered, and caught sight of her. A young woman that was standing in the open doorway of the unit just across the hall. Faded gray hoodie, sweatpants that sat a little too low on her hips, and a tangle of auburn hair in a messy bun that looked like it gave up halfway. One hand gripped the door frame, the other clutching a half-eaten granola bar.

She blinked at you, shocked. You offered a small, sheepish smile. "Hi."

She blinked again. "Uh—hi."

There was a beat of silence. She kept staring at you, and you shifted your weight, struggling to hold the box and at the same time balance your pride. "I, uh… just moved in."

She nodded quickly. "Yeah, no—I figured. New face. And boxes. That’s… obvious. Sorry."

You bit back a laugh. "I promise I’m not usually this pathetic. Just… long drive. Too much stuff."

Ellie snapped out of it suddenly, like her brain had just rebooted. "Shit—wait. Let me help you with that."

Before you could protest, she’s stepping forward, quickly wiping her hand on her hoodie like she just remembered she’s eating, then gently taking the box from you like she’s worried you’ll shatter if she’s too rough. And she lifted it as if it didn't weight anything. God, you're not sure if it was just the exhaustion, but was the room suddenly hotter? Or was it just you?

"Oh my god," you exhaled in relief, letting your arms drop. "Thank you. You may have just saved my spine."

She grinned softly, cheeks a little pink. "No problem. I’m Ellie, by the way."

You gave her your name, and she repeated it quietly under her breath, like she wanted to make sure she didn’t forget. It was oddly endearing.

She followed you into your apartment and gently sat the box down by the window. "Wow. You’ve got, like… a lot of books."

You glanced around at the stack of boxes marked READING / PLEASE DON’T CRUSH, smiling a little. "Guilty. I had a system, but the system kinda died somewhere around hour five of unpacking."

Ellie nodded like she got it. "Want some help? I mean—only if you want. I don’t have anything going on. Just… reorganizing my guitar pedals and regretting life choices."

You raised an eyebrow. "Guitar pedals?"

She blushed faintly. "Yeah. Music nerd. Don’t judge."

"I’d never," you replied, already walking toward the nearest box. "If you’re serious about helping, I’ve got a bookshelf I was too scared to try assembling alone."

She perked up immediately. "I’m your girl."

An hour later, Ellie was sitting cross-legged on your living room floor, her hoodie sleeves pushed up—her arm tattoo on full display, as she studied the instruction manual with a look of pure concentration.

There was a screw between her lips and her hair was falling in her face, but she didn’t seem to notice. You were lying on the rug beside her, trying not to laugh. "You look like you’re defusing a bomb."

She spat out the screw with a grin. "This is Ikea. You never know." You laughed, and Ellie beamed at the sound. "Okay, hand me the... um. That… L-shaped—thingy."

"You mean the Allen wrench?"

"Right. That. Allen. Bastard of a wrench."

You passed it to her and watched as her hands worked with practiced ease, though she was still mumbling things like 'who designed this nightmare' under her breath. After a few minutes, the pieces started to come together.

You offered her a drink from your tiny fridge, and she takes it with a soft 'thanks,' sipping while scanning the partially-built shelf.

"You know," she said casually, "this place is nice. Good lighting. Kinda cozy already."

"Think I’ll like it here."

Ellie shrugged, maybe a little too fast. "Yeah, well. I mean. You’ve got a cool neighbor, so."

You laughed, leaning your head back against the wall. "I really do."

ELLIE WAS standing at your door, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, wiping her hands on her jeans even though she hadn’t touched anything in the past ten minutes. The bookshelf was done. The boxes were stacked a little neater. She helped more than she should have for someone who just met you, and now there’s a weird lull in the air like… okay, what happens now?

You stretched your arms overhead, groaning quietly as your back pops. "Okay, officially retiring from lifting furniture."

Ellie snorted. "You say that now. Wait until you realize you still have, like, six more boxes marked 'miscellaneous disaster'."

You groaned again, dramatically this time. "Those are tomorrow’s problems." Then, with a soft sigh, you glanced toward your hallway and say, "God, I still need to get a new bulb for the bedroom. I haven’t been able to see in there since I got here."

Ellie raises her brows. "No light at all?"

"None," you say. "And of course, I packed the lamps in the box that’s... still in my car. Which is currently blocked in by some delivery truck of doom."

There was a pause. You expected a laugh, maybe a 'good luck with that.' Instead, she played with two of her fingers awkwardly, and smiled at you. "I could take you?" she said.

You blinked. "What?"

"To the store," she shrugged, eyes darting away like she regrets offering. "I was just gonna run out and grab snacks or something anyway."

You tilted your head. "You were?"

Ellie turned red, but tried to play it cool. "Yeah. Definitely. Wasn’t just gonna, y’know, spiral alone in my apartment or anything."

You both knew that was a lie. But you laughed, and something in her posture relaxed. "Okay," you replied, smiling. "Yeah. Let’s go lightbulb hunting."

Ten minutes later, you’re both in Ellie’s dusty old truck—windows slightly cracked, and a faint smell of pine from a crooked air freshener hanging from the mirror. She was gripping the wheel like she’s trying not to white-knuckle it, sneaking occasional glances at you when she thinks you’re not looking. You’re pretty sure you caught every single one.

At the hardware store, the lightbulb section was far more overwhelming than it had any right to be. You stood in front of it together, baffled by the sheer number of wattage options.

"Why are there so many types?" you whispered.

Ellie whispered back, "capitalism."

Eventually, you grabbed the right one (after way too much debate about warm vs. cool lighting), and Ellie casually picked up a few things for herself. Chips. A soda. A pack of sour candy she pretended not to want until you caught her staring at it for a solid minute.

"You’re definitely a sour candy person," you said as she tosses it into the basket.

Ellie shrugged, cheeks pink. "You're saying that like it’s a bad thing."

You shook your head. "No, just… makes sense."

"Yeah?"

"Yep," you said softly, smiling. "It’s cute."

She froze. Didn’t say anything for five seconds. Then muttered a very quiet, 'Oh.' You pretended not to notice how red her ears go.

BACK AT YOUR apartment, it took about eight minutes to screw in the new bulb—and then you were both just… standing in your now-lit bedroom, staring at the glow like you’ve just witnessed a miracle.

"Let there be light," Ellie said reverently.

You laughed and flopped back onto your mattress dramatically. "I owe you my life."

She leaned against the doorway, hands in her hoodie pocket, watching you with the kind of soft smile she probably doesn’t even realize she’s wearing. "You don’t owe me anything."

You glanced at the clock. "You hungry?"

Ellie paused. "Me?"

"No, the bookshelf." You smirked. "Of course you, dummy. C’mon. I’m starving. And you did save my spine."

She tried to brush it off with a joke—'I do take payment in pepperoni'—but you could tell she was secretly thrilled.

Twenty-five minutes later, a pizza box was open between you on the living room floor, two paper plates balancing precariously on a stack of books. You’d strung up some fairy lights that Ellie offered to 'totally not judge you for owning,' and now the room is bathed in warm, flickering gold.

You were sitting cross-legged, a slice in hand. "God, I didn’t realize how hungry I was."

Ellie smiled behind her cup of soda. "You looked like you were gonna pass out when I showed up earlier."

"Honestly? Close."

There was a pause. She glanced at you, then down at her food, then back at you. "I’m glad you let me help," she says.

"Yeah?"

She nods, playing with a corner of the box. “I don’t… really do that. Talk to people, I mean. Not right away. But you’re… easy."

You rose an eyebrow, smirking. "Easy?"

"I mean—you’re easy to talk to,” she blurted. "Not like—not in a bad way. You just—shit. That sounded wrong."

You burst out laughing. "Relax. I know what you meant."

She groaned into her hands. "Kill me."

"Never," you laughed. There’s a lull after that. A comfortable one.

You leaned back on your hands, stretching your legs out toward her. "So what’s your story, Neighbor Ellie? Mysterious girl across the hall. Fixes furniture. Gives rides. Loves sour candy."

She gave you a look. "You clocked all that in one night?"

"I’m a fast learner."

She exhaled a laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "Okay, well. I moved here a couple years ago. Work in a CD store. Play guitar in my free time. Live a thrilling life of talking to no one and watching horror movies until 2 AM."

"Wow," you deadpanned. "Truly a menace."

She smirked. "I contain multitudes."

You nudged her leg with your foot. "I think you’re cool."

Ellie went so quiet after that you worry you went too far. But then she said, soft: "I think you’re pretty cool too."

Neither of you moved for a second. The pizza was getting cold, the lights were flickering softly. She was staring at you like you hung the stars, and your heart’s doing something very inconvenient in your chest.

IT WASN’T HARD TO figure out where Ellie worked. Not like you stalked her or anything—she just... mentioned it. Casually. In passing. And it stuck with you, that offhand comment about shifts and sorting and 'old people complaining about the price of CDS like it’s 1985.'

And okay, maybe you were a little too curious. Maybe you had a free day and a really good memory. And maybe there weren’t that many record stores in town to begin with.

You checked out the first shop—a dusty little place with an impressive jazz section and a guy behind the counter who looked old enough to have invented jazz. No Ellie. The second one was sleek and modern, curated for aesthetic Instagram posts, with alphabetized playlists and diffused lighting. Also, no Ellie. But the third one… That’s where you saw her.

She was behind the counter, alone, hunched over a small stack of CDs, scribbling something onto tiny sticky notes with a black pen clutched between ink-smudged fingers. Her hair was tied up in a low bun, loose strands falling into her face as she worked. She was mouthing the words to whatever track was playing overhead—some soft, rock ballad you didn’t recognize—but it made the whole place feel hushed, intimate, like stepping into someone’s favorite memory.

You stood near the entrance for a second too long.

Ellie glanced up and froze. Her pen paused mid-word. You caught the brief flicker of surprise on her face—like she wasn’t expecting to ever see you here, like this part of her life was separate and you’d somehow wandered past the invisible boundary.

But then her expression shifted, softening into something unreadable. The corners of her mouth twitched like she was trying to decide whether to smile or run.

She settled on a weird middle ground. "Oh," she said nonchalantly. "Hey."

You raised a hand, suddenly hyper-aware of your own body, your posture, the fact that you hadn’t really thought through what you’d say when this moment came. "Hey. Fancy seeing you here."

Ellie blinked. "In my place of work?"

You laughed, and she smiled for real this time. "Right. I was just... exploring the neighborhood," you lied. "Didn’t realize this store was so close."

She nodded slowly, clearly not buying it—the store was a twenty-minute drive from the apartment complex— but was too polite to call you out. "Yeah? You into CDs?"

"Definitely," you said, scanning the shelves like you weren’t about to have a heart attack. "I mean, I personally prefer vinyls, but yeah, CDs are like, super retro. Very... round."

Ellie snorted. "That’s one way to describe them."

You wandered closer, pretending to browse, your fingers grazing the spines of old cases. She watched you, but not in a judgmental way. More like she was trying to figure you out.

"Do you work every day?" you asked after a moment.

"Nah," she said, leaning on the counter. "Just a few days a week. Tuesdays, Thursdays, sometimes Saturdays."

You nodded like that wasn’t valuable information now burned into your brain. You grabbed a Fleetwod Mac CD, and took out your wallet to pay. "Cool," you said. "Guess I’ll have to stop by again."

"No, uh, don’t worry. It’s on the house." Ellie scratched the back of her neck, eyes darting to her Casio watch. "You, uh... wanna hang out after I’m done? My shift ends at five."

"You sure?"

"You don’t have to. I just thought—I dunno, maybe we could go get coffee. Or you could show me your superior taste in 'very round CDs.'"

You grinned. "I’d like that."

Ellie looked down, then back up through her lashes. "Cool. Yeah. Cool."

You ended up spending the next half hour pretending to look through racks while sneaking glances at her—and she, in return, kept stealing glances at you in the reflection of the display glass. And when five o’clock finally rolled around, she practically flew out from behind the counter, tugging on her jacket and fumbling with the sleeves like she was nervous. Which, honestly, made two of you.

THE COFFEE SHOP Ellie picked was small, local, and mostly empty by the time you both got there—quiet enough that your conversation didn’t have to compete with the noise, but not so silent that the pauses felt heavy. The barista gave Ellie a little nod when she walked in, like she was a regular, and Ellie just muttered a soft 'hey' back before holding the door open for you.

You sat by the window, your cups warming your hands, and the conversation came easier than you thought it would. Ellie was shy, yeah, but not in that way where she tried to disappear. It was more like she was deliberate. Careful. She listened to you like you were saying things worth remembering.

She told you about the weird guy who always came in looking for jazz CDs they didn’t have, and how she’d once spent two hours reorganizing the punk section just because she couldn’t stand the way someone else had done it. You talked about the move, the disaster of trying to assemble your own bookshelf, and the apartment above yours that sounded like a zoo with a drum set.

Ellie laughed at that one, and you caught yourself staring just a little too long at the way her eyes crinkled when she did it. You suddenly felt the urge to count every single freckle that was marked in her face.

Somewhere between a refill and a shared chocolate chip cookie, she glanced at the clock and said, "Wanna come over?"

"To your place?"

She scratched at the back of her neck. "I mean, only if you want. No pressure. I just—I have this CD collection I was talking about and, uh... coffee shops close eventually."

You tried not to smile too obviously. "Sure. I’d love to."

Ellie’s apartment was quite similar to yours—after all, both were from the same block, but something about it was undeniably her. The couch was beat-up but clean, the walls were decorated with band posters and a couple of hand-drawn sketches you didn’t ask about yet, and her windowsill had a few neglected plants that were somehow still alive.

"I wasn’t really expecting company," she said, kicking off her shoes near the door. "Sorry if it’s a little... messy."

You looked around. "Ellie, this is better than mine by far."

She shrugged, clearly flustered, and motioned for you to take a seat while she made herself busy putting on a playlist— just background enough to not distract from her own nervous energy. With your drink still in hand, you wandered to the shelf near the TV, running your finger along the neatly organized spines of her CD collection. "So this is the shrine."

"Hey, don’t mock the shrine," she said, coming to stand beside you. "It’s got history."

You glanced at the rows and rows of titles—some familiar, others completely new to you. "What’s your holy trinity, then?"

She paused, seriously considering it. "Green Day, Radiohead, and—don’t laugh—The Smashing Pumpkins."

You blinked. "Why would I laugh?"

"I dunno. People always think I’m gonna say something cooler. Nirvana or something."

You smiled. "I think that is cool."

Ellie ducked her head and muttered, "Yeah, well... you look cool, so I’m trusting your judgment."

You turned toward her, and right as you opened your mouth to say something, you felt it—a warm splash of beverage sloshing right onto your top. You looked down at the spreading stain and groaned. "Oh my god. I can’t take me anywhere."

Ellie reacted fast, already rummaging through a basket of laundry near the couch. "Wait—here. I, uh, I’ve got something you can wear."

She tossed you a hoodie, worn and soft and a little big. The same one she wore the first time she saw you. You pulled it on without thinking—slightly mortified, and very aware of how it smelled exactly like her. It was stupid. It was just detergent and something like cedar and maybe... her shampoo? But it hit you like a memory you hadn’t made yet, and when you looked back at Ellie, she was definitely flustered.

"You okay?" she asked, voice a little tight.

You nodded, tugging at the sleeves. "This is so comfy. You might never get it back."

Ellie laughed nervously. "That’s, uh... fine. You look good in it."

The sentence hung between you for a beat too long. You turned back to the CDs. "Show me your favorites."

And she did.

You sat cross-legged on her living room floor while she pulled out album after album, fingers brushing the covers like they were sacred texts. Time slipped away. The music got quieter, the light outside faded to black, and before either of you realized it, the clock on her microwave blinked 1:04 AM.

"Oh shit," Ellie said, glancing over. "You’re probably exhausted. I didn’t mean to keep you here so long."

You rubbed your eyes, yawning. "I am tired. But like, in a good way. I had fun."

Ellie stood awkwardly, hovering near the door. "Do you want me to walk you back?”

"It’s literally ten steps ahead."

"Still," she muttered, fidgeting with her fingers.

There was a weird, sudden stillness. Not uncomfortable exactly—just... charged. Like you’d both walked to the edge of something without realizing it, and now neither of you knew what to do. You stood in the doorway, Ellie’s hoodie still wrapped around you, warm from her and too soft to take off just yet.

"I should go," you said.

"Okay," Ellie agreed, voice quiet.

You could feel it—just beneath the surface—the shared, unspoken thing you both wanted. The maybe. The what if. But neither of you crossed the line.

Instead, you gave her a soft smile and a breathy 'goodnight,' and Ellie rubbed the back of her neck and murmured it back. When the door finally closed behind you, your heart thudded like you’d just run a mile.

Back in your apartment, you curled into the matress that laid on the floor, still wearing her hoodie, surrounded by the quiet hum of the night, and told yourself you were fine. That you’d get another chance. You didn’t know Ellie was sitting on the other side of the wall, wide awake, hoodie-less, and thinking the exact same thing.

THE NEXT MORNING, you woke slowly. And the first thing that you felt was Ellie’s hoodie. Still wrapped around you. Still warm in the chest, even if the sleeves were cold now. You’d never meant to fall asleep in it, but you hadn’t been able to make yourself take it off either. Not when it still smelled like her. Not when it felt like the last piece of her you got to keep before things got too real. Before either of you dared to name what last night had almost been.

You sat up, groaning at the way your spine protested after crashing half-sideways across your bare mattress. One arm still tucked under a throw pillow, hair wild with sleep. You ran your hand through it and stretched—and that’s when you heard the voices. Muffled at first. Laughter. Two people in the hallway, maybe just outside your door. You froze.

One of them was Ellie. You’d recognize her voice anywhere by now. That low rasp that turned warm when she laughed. And she was laughing—louder than you’d heard her in days. And the other voice? Feminine. Confident. Light and teasing.

You moved quietly, barefoot on the wooden floor, hoodie still draped over your frame like a second skin. You opened your apartment’s door just enough to let sound bleed in, and curiosity got the better of you. Just a peek, you told yourself.

You leaned into the silence of your own apartment, looking at the hall. And there she was. Ellie. Hair still damp from a shower, in a flannel over a gray tee and those dirty Converse she always stomped around in. She looked so relaxed, so casual—leaning against the stair railing, grinning in a way she never quite had with you. Her hand came up to push her hair out of her face, and she was looking at the girl beside her. Dark hair pulled into a high ponytail. Pretty. Effortless. Golden skin and a wicked smile and that kind of magnetic energy you’d always admired from a distance. She looked like someone who knew how to charm your mom and talk about records without ever trying too hard. The kind of girl who just fit.

She playfully shoved Ellie’s shoulder and said something that made them both burst into another fit of laughter. And your heart sank. Of course. Of course Ellie wasn’t single. What were you thinking? That someone like her—funny, sweet, handy, effortlessly cool—would just be floating around, unattached? That she'd invite you over, lend you her hoodie, stay up talking music with you ‘til one in the morning because she wanted something more? No. You’d misread it. All of it. You closed the door quietly.

Your face felt hot. Your eyes threatened to let out a couple of tears. You slipped the hoodie off and folded it, hands trembling just slightly, and placed it gently on the edge of the couch like it might burn you if you touched it for too long. Like it had just become hers again, not something you were allowed to keep holding.

And then you started getting ready. Quieter than usual. Slower. You told yourself you’d imagined it. That it didn’t matter. That it was fine. You’d just… back off. Respect the boundary you hadn’t realized existed.

Ellie noticed something was off that same day. No music playing. No lights on. Not even the faint sound of footsteps inside like usual. The little signs she’d come to expect over the past few days—gone. And the worst of all? You hadn’t texted her.

She bit the inside of her cheek as she walked down the street, bag slung over one shoulder, thumb hovering over your contact in her phone. She kept replaying last night over and over again in her head—the way you looked in her hoodie, how you smiled at her dumb music rants, how close your knees had been on the floor, how you hadn’t kissed her when you left. And how she hadn’t kissed you either. Too nervous. Too wrapped up in the fear of ruining something before it even started.

She walked into the shop, tossed her bag behind the counter, and barely had time to clock in before Jesse—her coworker, and unfortunately, her most observant friend—poked his head in from the back room. "Yo, Williams."

"What."

"You got the personality of a wet sock today. Did something happen?"

Ellie groaned. "I’m fine."

"What the fuck? You’re not. You sighed seven times during that one sentence. That’s a record, even for you."

She pulled the stool out and sat down behind the register, slumping dramatically. "It’s nothing."

Jesse raised a brow. "Is it about hoodie girl?"

Ellie snapped her head up. "What? How do you—"

"You literally texted me last night 'she’s wearing my hoodie and I might die.'"

"Okay first of all, fuck you. And second, I was emotionally compromised."

Jesse leaned on the counter, smirking. "So what happened?"

Ellie looked down, fiddling with the string of her hoodie. "I don’t know. We hung out, it was great—like, really great—and I thought we were gonna maybe... kiss or something? But then she left, and now she’s just—cold. Like, totally ignoring me."

"She see you with Dina?"

Ellie’s brows furrowed. “What?”

"Dee told me she went to pick up her speaker this morning. Maybe she saw you two together."

Ellie’s jaw dropped. "She thinks I’m dating Dina?"

Jesse just gave her a look. "Wouldn’t be the wildest assumption, dude. Dina is hot. And you two always look cozy as hell."

Ellie slumped back in the stool. "Shit."

"So go tell her." Jesse folded his arms. "Like, right now."

"I can’t just show up and be like 'Hey, by the way, that girl I was laughing with? Not my girlfriend!'"

"Why not?"

"Because it’s—" Ellie rubbed her face. "I don’t know, it’s embarrassing. What if she didn’t see me with Dina? What if I read everything wrong? What if she’s not into me like that?"

Jesse tilted his head. "Are you into her like that?"

Ellie didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. He smiled. "Then fix it, you idiot."

But Ellie just sat there, heart caught somewhere between hope and dread, wondering how the hell she was supposed to explain the mess when you wouldn’t even look at her anymore.

FOR THE REST of the week, you did your best to act like everything was fine.

Avoiding Ellie wasn’t hard, exactly. Not at first. You slipped out early to grab coffee before she left for work. And you told yourself—again and again—that it didn’t hurt. That you weren’t letting your mind wander back to the way she’d smiled at you in her dim little apartment, the way her voice had gone all soft and reverent when she’d talked about her guitar and her favorite bands. That you weren’t still thinking about her hoodie, folded on your couch like something sacred, something almost yours.

But even so… you missed her. And she noticed. She wasn’t stupid, either. Every time Ellie walked past your apartment, her chest tightened just a little. She couldn’t stop checking—subtle little glances at your windows, your doormat, listening for footsteps inside. But she was met with nothing, just pure silence.

It had been nine days. Nine days since your almost-date. Since you wore her hoodie and sat so close she could smell your shampoo. Since you’d yawned around midnight and she’d practically panicked, blurting something awkward about how you didn’t have to go but also yeah totally if you’re tired cool cool yeah no worries. And she hadn’t even walked you to your place. Just stood there, heart in her throat, as you smiled at her one last time without kissing her. Now you didn’t even look at her. And Ellie? Ellie didn’t know how to fix it.

That evening, a thunderstorm rolled in with no warning. It was more chilly than you expected, and by the time you realized, Ellie’s hoddie was back like a second skin. You tried to lie to yourself, thinking you were too tired to open the winter clothes box. But in reality, it was just to feel it again. You’d tried to settle into a book, when the lights suddenly flickered… and then went out. You sat in stunned silence for a beat before peeking out your window and confirmed what you feared—the whole damn block was dark. Not a gleam streetlamp in sight.

And the worst part? You didn’t have a single candle. So you were swallowed by black-pitched darkness. You were just settled back onto your couch, the book long forgotten by now, when someone knocked. A soft, tentative knock. You froze. And then came her voice.

"Hey… It’s Ellie."

Your heart did a little jump, stupid and immediate. You stood slowly, suddenly all too aware of your pajama shorts and the way your hair had half-dried in soft, tangled waves.

You opened the door. Ellie stood there holding two thick candles—one already lit, the other one tucked under her arm—and a slightly sheepish expression. She was wearing a red flannel, straight jeans, and a pair of black Converse. Her hair was tucked messily behind her ears, her freckles barely visible in the low light.

"Power’s out," she said.

"Yeah. I noticed."

She shifted her weight, and if she had noticed you wearing her hoodie, she chose not to say anything. "Thought you might need these."

You took the candles from her slowly, your fingers brushing hers in the exchange. Her hand was warm. You swallowed. "Thanks."

Ellie nodded, but didn’t move. She glanced into your apartment and then back at you, chewing the inside of her cheek. "You okay?" she asked. "You’ve been, uh, quiet lately."

You hesitated, trying to ignore the knot isnide your chest. She had noticed. Your heart beat against your ribs, stubborn and tired. "Yeah. I’m fine."

A pause. "You’ve been avoiding me."

Your breath caught as you looked away. "No, I haven’t."

Ellie tilted her head, gently, like she knew you were lying. "Okay. Cool, then."

"Do you wanna come in?" You mumbled, stepping back. Fuck. Why’d you even said that?

She bit the inside of her cheek. "Only if it’s okay."

You nodded once. "Yes. It’s okay." So she stepped in.

The candlelight made everything feel hazier, slower. Her shadow danced across your floor as she walked toward your living room and stood awkwardly near your bookshelf, hands shoved into her hoodie pocket. You followed her in, set the candles on the table, and sat.

Ellie sat too—but not too close. She glanced around, then down at her lap.

"I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable," she said finally, voice soft. "The other day. At my place."

"You didn’t," you said too quickly. She looked up. You wrung your hands in your lap. "I just… It was silly for me to misread the situation, I guess."

Ellie blinked, then blinked again. "What do you mean?"

You gave her a look. "You know. I saw you with the girl... friend."

Realization dawned on her face. "Dina?"

You didn’t answer. Great. She had a pretty name too.

Ellie let out a breath and leaned back. "She’s not my girlfriend. She’s—God—she’s like my sister. We’ve known each other since middle school. We were talking about Uncharted."

That made you look at her. "Uncharted?"

"Yeah, she was making fun of me for being obsessed with it, and playing the stupid game the whole night. It wasn’t flirting."

A small laugh broke out of you before you could stop it, quick and surprised. Ellie smiled—just a little. And then the room got quiet again. That flickering, charged quiet where neither of you really knew what to say next.

Until Ellie whispered, "You look really good in my hoodie."

You swallowed hard, but didn’t answer. Ellie’s gaze flicked to yours. Her cheeks were flushed, soft pink in the candlelight, but smiled anyway.

"I thought maybe you were gonna kiss me," she murmured.

You felt your whole face go warm. "I wanted to."

She blinked slowly. "Then why didn’t you?"

"I got scared."

Ellie’s voice was barely above a whisper. "Me too."

You looked at her then. She looked nervous, her knee bouncing like she couldn’t sit still. She was leaning in just a little—but not enough. Like she was halfway between running and staying. And then she said it, "can I try again?"

Your breath caught. You nodded once, biting your lower lip unconsciously. And this time, she leaned all the way in, her hands finding your cheeks. The kiss was soft, shy, and barely there—like both of you were scared it would vanish if you moved too fast. But then she pressed in a little closer, and your hand slid gently to her cheek, and she smiled against your mouth.

And when you pulled back, her forehead rested against yours. In the flickering candlelight, everything else faded. No hallway whispers. No misunderstandings. Just Ellie. Warm and nervous and real.

THE MORNING SUN peeked in lazily through Ellie’s half-drawn curtains. The green-eyed girl had been working her ass off last week, and still pleaded you to wake her up once you did, but you weren’t going to do it. She needed the sleep. So here you were now, bleary-eyed, standing barefoot in her kitchen and wearing Ellie’s Pink Floyd oversized shirt.

You were trying to figure out the ancient coffee machine she kept saying 'wasn’t that bad' when you heard the apartment door creak open. No knock. No announcement. Just a solid, casual entrance. You froze with one hand on your chest, wide-eyed.

"Ellie, if you’re gonna leave your damn wrench where I can trip over it, I swear to—"

You turned just in time for him to round the corner into the living room, carrying a paper bag and squinting toward the kitchen. He paused when he saw you. His eyes dropped to the oversized shirt, the unbrushed hair, your whole deer-in-headlights vibe. His brow lifted—just slightly—but it said everything. "Well," he said slowly, adjusting the grip on the bag, "you ain’t Ellie."

You cleared your throat. "Um—no. She’s still asleep. I think. Probably."

The man stared at you for another long beat, then sighed through his nose and gave a slow, skeptical nod. "Right."

And just like that, Ellie burst out of her room, hair a mess, wearing a tank top, some boxers and a mismatched pair of socks, looking completely and utterly disoriented.

"Oh—shit," she groaned, voice thick with sleep. "Joel. What—uh—what are you—what time is it?"

Joel raised the bag. "Brought you breakfast. And coffee. Thought I’d surprise you. Guess you beat me to it."

Your face was probably nuclear at that point. Ellie looked like she might combust from within. Joel’s gaze shifted between the two of you. He let out a grunt. "Well. I’ll be damned."

"I’m gonna—uh—bathroom. I’m gonna use it. Yours," you muttered, already halfway down the corridor. "Yep. Bathroom. Gone." You shut the door behind you and leaned against it, hand covering your face.

Out in the living room, there was a heavy pause.

"So," Joel began, in a voice that could only mean trouble, "you finally got your head outta your ass."

"Dude. Please." Ellie rubbed a hand over her face. "She’s not— I mean—we’re not, like… together together."

Joel arched a brow. "Does she know that? ‘Cause she’s wearin’ half your closet and looked quite comfortable in your kitchen."

Ellie’s mouth opened and closed. No response. No correction. Joel nodded to himself. "Didn’t think so."

"I didn’t say anything!" Ellie hissed, lowering her voice like you might somehow hear through the closed door.

"But you ain’t denying it either, kiddo." Joel said smugly. "Look, I’m not gonna give you the whole dad speech or... whatever. You’re grown. But if that girl’s gonna be hangin’ around, I expect you to treat her right. Like how I raised you. No ghostin’. No weird mind games. No—"

Ellie sputtered. "Jesus, Joel, can you not?"

"You like her or not?" He asked calmly.

She was quiet for a long beat. "…Yeah," she said, voice soft and barely audible.

Joel grunted, satisfied. "Then don’t be an idiot."

The bathroom door creaked open a second later. You emerged, trying your best to look composed despite the fact your heart was definitely doing somersaults.

Joel glanced between the two of you, and his face softened for just a second—like he was genuinely happy for Ellie. "Well," he said. "I should get goin’. You kids behave."

Ellie groaned, already anticipating some parting remark. "Don’t say it—"

Joel ignored her entirely, giving you a quick, amused glance. "Good luck dealin’ with this one," he said, jerking a thumb at Ellie like she wasn’t standing right there. "And bon appétit."

You grinned. "Thanks for the breakfast."

"Take care," Joel said with a wink, then stepped out the door and closed it behind him with a soft click.

A moment of silence settled over the apartment. You turned slowly to face Ellie, arms crossed, squinting with faux betrayal. "You. Nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Me?" Ellie blinked, slightly offended. "What?"

"Don’t 'what' me, Williams," you said, marching toward her dramatically. "Your dad, or whatever he is—just walks in like he owns the place and finds me in your shirt, barefoot and barely awake, making a fool of myself trying to work that prehistoric coffee machine—"

"You mean the beautifully vintage coffee machine?" she interjected, raising a hand in mock offense.

You shoved her shoulder gently. "Don’t deflect! I looked like I had just rolled out of bed after a one-night stand!"

Ellie choked. "You didn’t! You—you look cute."

Your brain short-circuited at that for half a second, but you rallied. "I was wearing your clothes, Ellie!"

"I didn’t tell you to wear my clothes!" she argued, but her voice was breathless, half-laughing. "And you do look cute!"

You shoved her again, this time with both hands, and she stumbled backward into the couch, grinning as she caught herself.

"Oh, okay, so it’s my fault," she said, recovering. "Next time, I’ll just let you walk around naked. Note taken."

"You didn’t even try to explain!" you pointed out, still feigning dramatic offense.

Ellie held her hands up in surrender, though her face and ears were red. "Okay, okay, you’re right! I panicked!"

"You liked it," you accused.

"I did not—!" Ellie protested, but she was laughing mid-sentence. "Okay—maybe. Maybe a little. It was kinda… nice. I mean, not the surprise Joel part. That part sucked."

You hovered above her where she’d half-sunk into the couch cushions, breathless from all the mock fighting, face flushed. The laughter slowed between you both.

"It was nice," you echoed, voice soft now. "Him thinking I was your girlfriend."

Ellie looked up at you, suddenly quiet, her grin faded into something gentler, something almost vulnerable. "You didn’t run away screaming, so… that’s something."

You dropped your gaze, fighting a shy smile. "I thought about it. Then I remembered I still have your hoodie, and you’d probably come after me."

Ellie sat up a little straighter, nudging your knee with hers. "Damn right I would’ve. It’s one of my favorites, you know."

"You’re unbelievable."

"But charming," she added hopefully.

You tilted your head like you were thinking it over. "Eh. You’re on thin ice."

She reached over and poked your side, making you squirm. "I brought you breakfast."

"That was mostly Joel." You finally let yourself smile fully, sitting beside her and tucking your legs underneath you, shoulder brushing hers.

"But I didn’t stop him," she said proudly. "You’re welcome."

You laughed again, leaning your head on her shoulder without thinking. It just felt natural. Warm. Safe.

Her voice was softer now, almost a whisper: "You can… stay. If you want. A little longer. You don’t have to rush back."

You didn’t lift your head. "You sure? I might steal more of your clothes."

"I’d let you," she mumbled. Then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, she added, "they look better on you anyway."

Your heart flipped. "God," you murmured, eyes closing, "you’re such a loser."

"Yours though," she said under her breath.

perm taglist !

@valeisaslut @firefly-ace @sevslover @twopeoplee @mayfldss @elliesfavtoy @usuck @avalovesmus1c @samcvrpenters @mars4hellokitty @prettyinpink69 @yashirawr @furtherrawayy @maximumdreamlandcoffee @elliesfavgirlfriend @abcline006 @marieeeluvsyou @smaugayra @eriiwaiii2 @d1psht @creativedespaitr @leaaavesss @yasmilks

[jellyfishsthings]

The Things You Say

navigation , dc navigation

Summary: Jason yearning for a nerdy girl who constantly talks about her new books or new science inventions, he doesn't understand shit and they have to look stuff up constantly trying to keep up with her

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

Jason knew pain. He knew the taste of blood and the sound of a heart flatlining. He knew what it was like to dig his way out of a grave with his bare hands, lungs full of dirt and rage. He knew war. Loss. Fire.

But none of that prepared him for the experience of falling for someone like you.

He also knew two things for certain:

One: he was not, and never would be, a science guy.

Two: he was completely, helplessly in love with the weird girl who never stopped talking about subatomic particles like they were fairy tales.

He met her in a bookstore, because of course he did. Gotham’s oldest secondhand shop, tucked between a closed-down deli and a tattoo parlor. She was in the nonfiction aisle, holding a hardcover titled Quantum Entanglement and the Fabric of the Cosmos, murmuring to herself while frowning at the margins.

Jason should’ve walked away. Should’ve grabbed his Hemingway and gone.

But instead he found himself saying, “Is that English?”

She looked up.

Big glasses. Hair half-up, half-falling. A tiny scowl, like he’d just insulted her childhood dog. “It’s physics.”

He blinked. “I gathered. Still looks like math’s evil cousin.”

That got a laugh. Or something like it. A half-smile, crooked and unsure, like she didn’t laugh often and wasn’t sure she should now.

Jason tilted his head. “You work with this stuff?”

“I study it.” She pushed the book against her chest. “I’m trying to understand quantum coherence in biological systems. Mostly theoretical. I bore people.”

“I don’t mind theory,” Jason said, which was a lie, but a nice one.

She stared at him for a long second. “You’re trying to flirt with me.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “How am I doing?”

“Terribly.”

He grinned. “You want coffee?”

She hesitated.

“Not a date,” he added quickly. “Just... if you want someone to listen while you explain quantum thingies.”

“Quantum thingies,” she repeated. “Tempting.”

It was supposed to be one coffee. It turned into four. Then dinner. Then late-night texts, where she sent him screenshots of new studies and he replied with bad memes and pictures of books she’d made him read.

Jason wasn’t used to this—whatever this was. There was no game here. No dramatics. Just this girl with a constellation of freckles and a mouth that moved too fast when she got excited.

She’d sit cross-legged on his couch, hair up, socks mismatched, spouting things like:

“Did you know cephalopods can edit their own RNA in real time?”

Jason, who was halfway through re-reading The Count of Monte Cristo, would look up and go, “Cepha-what?”

“Octopus brains. They’re insane.”

He had a notes app. No joke. It read:

Quarks (ask which one is the cute one)

Octopus RNA = science magic

Don’t say atoms are tiny planets—she hates that

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to understand. He did. Desperately. Because her eyes lit up like stars when she talked, and Jason wanted to know what it was like to hold a universe like that in his head.

Because you talked about neutrinos over coffee. Neutrinos. Subatomic particles. And you said it with a smile like it was common small talk, like most people spent Sunday mornings curled up reading quantum mechanics papers instead of the funnies.

Jason pretended to get it. He even nodded sagely.

He did not get it.

"They're fascinating," you said once, feet tucked under you on his old beat-up couch, eyes lit like they held galaxies. "Like these ghosts of matter. They pass through everything, almost impossible to catch. It's like trying to bottle a secret."

"Uh-huh," Jason said, staring at your lips. Not because he was being disrespectful. But because they moved when you talked, and sometimes he understood those more than your words.

He googled them later. Spent two hours falling down a scientific rabbit hole so steep he got a headache, just so he could maybe ask the right question next time. So he could deserve to be in the same room as your mind.

You never made him feel stupid.

You never made him feel like he had to prove himself. But Jason was built of sharp edges and pride. He came from alleys, from blood-streaked streets and textbooks that were ten years too late. You were made of stardust and curiosity, of words that leapt like fire from your tongue.

He wanted to meet you there.

So he read. And re-read. Fell asleep listening to science podcasts he barely understood. Texted Tim questions like, “What the hell is a muon?” and got responses like, “Why are you asking me this at 2AM?”

You were working on something new. Something about microfluidics, which sounded made-up but wasn't. Your whiteboard was filled with squiggles and Greek letters, and Jason stood behind you one afternoon just... watching.

"You know," he said finally, leaning a shoulder against your wall, "I'm starting to think you might be the smart one in this relationship."

You turned, brow quirked. "Only just starting?"

Jason laughed. It cracked something open in him. "You know what I mean."

"I do," you said, crossing to him. You had ink on your fingers. Pen behind your ear. Your shirt was inside out. Jason thought you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "But I'm not in love with me. You are."

He blinked.

You kissed his cheek, then went back to your board, humming. As if you hadn't just sent his soul straight out of his body.

Jason spent that night learning about laminar flow.

Sometimes, you talked so fast you forgot to breathe. You’d get this wild look in your eyes, like the whole universe was cracking open and only you could see it.

Jason lived for that look.

You told him about CRISPR once, gesturing wildly with a fork in a shitty diner, eggs going cold.

"It’s gene editing," you said. "Like molecular scissors! You can cut DNA—literally edit life. Isn’t that insane?"

Jason chewed his toast. Nodded. Took a mental note to google "molecular scissors" the second you hit the bathroom.

He didn’t get it. Not really.

But he loved how your face lit up. Like discovering was your religion and you were halfway to ascension.

He wanted to believe in something like that.

The problem, of course, was that he kept falling harder.

It hit him slow at first—like rain soaking into the collar of your coat. He’d look up in the middle of a lecture she didn’t know she was giving and realize he hadn’t heard a word.

Because she was smiling. Because she was alive in that moment in a way that made the world blur.

And then one night it hit him all at once.

They were on his fire escape, watching the sky turn blue-black over Gotham. She had her legs pulled up to her chest, hoodie sleeves covering her hands, talking about something called CRISPR and how gene editing could eventually reverse certain degenerative conditions.

Jason lit a cigarette. Didn’t smoke it. Just let it sit in his hand.

“You ever wonder,” he said, “how you ended up where you are?”

She blinked. “All the time.”

“I used to think I was supposed to be something. Like... some big cosmic screw-up happened and I got turned into this.” He gestured vaguely. “A walking wreckage.”

“You’re not a wreck.”

Jason didn’t answer. Just watched her through the smoke.

“You read the books I send,” she whispered. “You ask questions. You try. That’s more than most.”

He looked away. “You make me want to try.”

She leaned into his shoulder, quiet.

That night he dreamed she was stardust and he was gravity. Always falling toward her.

Jason didn’t call it love. He didn’t know if he deserved to.

But he was the one who brought her soup when she got sick, even if he burned the rice.

He was the one who asked her to explain particle spin six times and still got it wrong.

He was the one who, during one of her meltdowns about failing a grant application, cupped her face and said, “You’re brilliant. If the world can’t see it, that’s not your fault.”

She cried into his shoulder for an hour.

One night, you fell asleep with your notes scattered across his bed. Jason gathered them carefully, reading snatches as he did.

"Theoretical modeling of fluid behavior in low-gravity environments..."

He smiled.

You’d joked once that you were building something for NASA. He wasn’t sure if you were actually joking.

He sat beside you, brushing hair from your forehead. You sighed in your sleep.

Jason Todd, child of Gotham's gutters, held your research like it was sacred.

He didn’t understand the math. But he understood what it meant to love something so fiercely you stayed up nights chasing it.

He understood what it meant to chase you.

It wasn’t easy.

You didn’t always get his silences. His scars. The way he sometimes drifted mid-conversation, haunted by a past he couldn’t shut up.

But you waited.

You asked.

You never made him feel like a puzzle to be solved. Just a story worth reading slowly.

One day he caught you reading War and Peace. Not for class. Not for work. Just... because.

"You know that’s, like, a thousand pages, right?"

"Only 1,225," you replied without looking up. "You should try it."

Jason chuckled. "You trying to turn me into a nerd, sweetheart?"

You looked at him then, all sharp eyes and soft affection. "You already are. You just don’t know it yet."

When you said "I love you," it was after explaining something about black holes.

Jason had no idea how you got from "gravitational collapse" to "I love you," but he wasn’t complaining.

He’d spent so long being angry. Being alone. Being something sharp and armored.

You cracked through it all with equations and post-it notes, with quiet mornings and whispered facts about tardigrades.

You made him laugh. Think. Google shit.

You made him feel.

He didn’t always understand what you said. He never fully grasped string theory.

But he learned her favorite coffee order, and the way she curled her toes when she was focused, and how to tell when her anxiety was starting to spiral.

He learned how to love her without needing to understand every atom.

Because she made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a cosmic mistake after all.

He was just a man. With a girl. And a heart that beat a little faster every time she said, “Hey Jay, guess what I learned today?”

And that?

That he understood perfectly.

And that was enough.

[she-rambled-but-they-were-true]

is it just me or can you make UNRESONABLY realistic bubble pop sounds with your mouth, like bro wtf?

[wonderjanga]

Billy and Freddy along with Mary watches gacha reaction videos (if you don't know what that is your missing out). But they can only do it in the watch tower and stuff due to the lack of technology in Fawcett. This ideas been going around in my head for a while and I KNOW Freddy would love it.

Hal was having a normal day. The sun was shining, the Earth looked beautiful from the Watchtower. He wanted to go watch the game on one of the Watchtower’s gigantic and beautiful TVs.

GL: *on his merry way to one of the rec rooms, whistling a little tune*

Marvel and Junior: *occasional gasps*

GL: *thinking they’re watching a horror movie and decides he’ll just watch it with them until it’s over* “Hey guys-”

Marvel and Junior: *sitting right in front of the screen, staring like iPad babies and watching a Rivals react to Ayano Aishi vid*

GL: *stares for like a solid second* “What- What the fuck are y’all doing?”

Marvel: *pauses it* “Huh?” *looks back to Hal*

GL: “Why are you guys watching this baby content?”

Junior: *sounds offended* “It’s not baby stuff.”

GL: “Uh yeah. It is.”

Marvel: “No, it isn’t. Stop being a hater.”

GL: “Marvel, you’re a grown ass man. And Junior? You’re at least 14. Why are you watching this??”

Junior: “It’s entertaining.”

GL: “Entertaining. Really?”

Marvel: “Yeah! Come on.” *pats a spot next to him* “Watch it with us.”

GL: “Dude, no.”

Marvel and Junior: *share a look* “Watch it. Watch it. Watch it.” *chanting*

Hal eventually caved.

That’s how he found himself sitting on the floor with them, and watching a surprisingly entertaining “mha reacts to deku as kokichi video”. A couple minutes later, Mary came by with snacks and joined them.

Mary: “I brought some Cheetos and popcorn- wha? You guys started without me?!”

Marvel and Junior: “Sorry, Mary.” *in unison and in shame*

Mary: *sighs and just sits down with them* “Why’s Green Lantern here??

GL: “I just found the fact that a grown man finds this entertaining very interesting.” (He’s actually completely enthralled in these but he’s too embarrassed to admit it)

Mary: “Uh huh… sure.”

Hal’s a little ashamed to admit that they spent like two hours straight doing this until they transitioned into the GLMMs.

GL: “Wait, I don’t get it. Why does the Mom just not love her child?”

Marvel: *shrugs* “Cause she’s mean.”

A couple minutes later…

GL: “Wait, why did the dad die?!”

Mary: “For story progression!”

Like ten minutes later…

GL: “She’s a wolf-cat-angel-demon-unicorn hybrid…?”

Junior: “Yep, she’s special!”

GL: “HAH! Her bitch of a sister’s just a cat!”

Marvel, Mary, and Junior: *all just happy Hal’s invested*

After a couple GLMMs such as Bad Girls vs Gangsters, Emotionless Girl, and The CEO is my Boss, (shout out to everyone who watched these) they moved on to even more kiddy content. Such as Fnaf videos, but not just any… no no no, these ones

After the Fnaf thingy…

GL: “Damn.” *stands up* “My ass hurts from sitting on the ground for so long.”

Marvel: “Dang…” *pauses their next gacha vid* “So you’re out?”

GL: “Yup.” *stretches*

Mary: “It was nice having you Mr. Green Lantern Sir.”

Junior: “Yeah, thanks for letting us put you on.”

Marvel, Mary, and Junior: *same blinding smile*

Also, by the way, they were definitely watching GLMVs and singing along to “I’m a bad girlfriend” and “She’s crazy but she’s mine” and “Copycat” and “Queen.” All of which were and still are peak and I stand by that till this day.

[trueloveistreacherous]

I mean, you can't even buy a whole orchard for a 150k, I...I'd assume. I am financially illiterate, it does keep me up at night.

Natasha Lyonne as Charlie Cale in The Game is a Foot (S02E01), Last Looks (S02E02) and Whack-A-Mole (S02E03) Poker Face (2023-present)

[alpaca-clouds]

The Technology We Have Already

Today I want to talk about one Solarpunk-thingie, that kinda annoys me - and has to do with a lot with how real-life politians deal with talking about technology and especially energy technologies.

And this is the following fact:

We already have the technology! This is not some SciFi shit!

See, the issue within the politics tends to be, that a lot of folks go: "Oh, yeah, we would LOVE to go renewable. But right it is not possible! Once the technology gets there, we will totally go 100% renewable!"

And basically a lot of Solarpunks online are also waiting for the technology to get there. Again, there is sadly a big group of folks who technically love the aesthetics of Solarpunk and also generally the idea of a Solarpunk future, but do not engage with it over it. And they usually will also wait for technology to get there.

But it already is.

Let me talk about it.

We can produce enough renewable energy

In a way I get it. If you are not working in any fields related to this - and do not follow science news - you might just not know how fast the renewable energy field is moving right now. 10 years ago, yes, a lot of countries would have been able to go 100% renewable, but not all. It depended basically on the climate and environment. Partly because the photovoltaic (what most people call solar, but us engineers use solar for something a bit different) cells were just not as efficient in certain climates. And while the mix of wind and hydro power could do A LOT for many countries, it could not for all.

However, that was mainly before China really pulled all the stops for their research. No, it is not only China, but holy shit, China's research in terms of photovoltaic is insane. If you follow this, you basically will see a new breakthrough - often from China - every couple months. And by now, the efficiency of photovoltaic is insane. Sure, it might not make sense as the only source of energy in places were you basically do not get any sunlight for half the year, but outside of that? It is so darn good.

Other than that, we are really darn good with wind energy (which to my opinion is still the best way of producing energy) and hydro energy.

Don't get me wrong: We can totally improve those things further and further. But we can absolutely power the world on renewables right now. We do not need fossile fuels right now!

We can build climate-friendly transport!

I will remind y'all once more: Electric cars are definitely better than gas powered cars, for those people and situations in which cars are needed. (Read: For emergency services, certain forms of service work who need to transport stuff outside of the rail network, and probably also some people who live very isolated for certain reasons.) However, they are still cars and suck for this reason, if you do not REALLY need them.

Still, we are fucking good by now in building electric cars and for those scenarios where they are needed. Heck, by now in my city pretty much all public transport runs electric, including the busses. And no, they are not tram busses.

And yeah, turns out, we figured out how to build railways more than 200 years ago, and we figured out how to electricize them in 1881. Yes. 1881. 18 in the front. Almost 150 years ago. Sure, back then we were not that good with it, but we managed to build one for intracity transport that worked - and worked for long.

Yes, admittedly, there are some forms of transport that right now we might indeed need fossil fuels for. Right now, we have no method to fly planes and helicopters in a way that is both mass-producable and renewable. And the same is with transcontinental transport via the ocean.

Yeah, sure. We can technically just go fully low tech and just sail. That works. Heck, while it is about half as quick as modern ways to transport over the ocean, it is feasible. However, we just cannot move the amounts of cargo we might need to move with sailing. There are people figuring this out (partly through creating much better sails that work for MUCH BIGGER ships) but yeah, we are not there yet.

Still, a) a lot of the intercontinental stuff we technically do not need to transport (most of it is using cheap quasi-slave labor to save money), and b) that should not stop us from just doing sustainable on-land transport which we can do.

We also know how to build a better society

Now, a lot of the folks going for the Solarpunk aesthetics rather than philosophy are quite often very mistrustful of both anarchism and communism - or heck, just socialism. They often have drunken the capitalist cool-aid of capitalism being the "only system that works". But here is the thing: It doesn't.

Sure, there are versions of capitalism that would work a whole lot better than the Chicago-flavored one, but it will never really work - especially in regards to saving the environment. I talked about that a lot before.

But here is the thing. We know how it works better. We know how to build a better society. We know how to make economics work better. We know how to make better schools. We know how to build better cities. We know how to prevent at least a lot of wars. We know how to make society safer for kids. We know how to make healthier families. We know how to make medicine as a system work better. We know it all.

Heck, we have known how to make schools that are better in every way since the early 20th century - so more than a hundred years. This proposed school system since has been proofen time and time again in studies to be better for kids, and better in terms of education. But do we use them? No.

Again, politicians love to go: "We would love to change things, but we do not have a better system." But it is not true. We know how to do it better.

Same with the police and prison and stuff. We know how to do it better.

But right now, a) a lot of the stuff works in the favor of those who hold most power (aka the billionaires), b) a lot of people just do not like the idea of changing stuff majorly (which makes politicians who want change unpopular), and c) politicians also would need to fund the change - and that is going to be hard.

So, yeah. Change would be hard.

But it is not because we do not know how to do better.

And I really just wish people would stop propagating this idea that we do not know better. We do. But folks right now profit from things staying the same. And it sucks.

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [13]

Impulse is a little back in time, simply to retrieve a thing from the most haunted city in america.

the instructions were clear, in. grab thing. out. no funny business, no anything else.

why the fuck did it had to be impulse then?! that’s never gonna- ah, whatever…

So Bart does not just do only that. He remembers to keep moving fast so he’s not seen, but well, he spotted these two white suited goofballs who looked upset with their little box contraption and somehow were missing the little unplugged wire and Bart figured, what could the harm be?

so he might have plugged the little wire in while he was there, sue him, the guys looked surprised but pleased that their little thingy was suddenly working. good job Impulse right?

he didn’t forget about it but he might have shoved it in the back trunk of his head while he went on to do his actual job which is essentially forgetting for a guy with eidetic memory.

So yeah, imagine his surprise when he gets back to where he came from and finds himself on a doomed, desolate earth with green skies and nothing but scorched rock and ruins for miles.

What he’s seeing is an earth in the aftermath of a war against the infinite realms.

So now he has to go back to the past and fix his reckless mistake. Would it be wise to maybe see if he can find a single living soul with some info on what happened to make this ordeal a little easier? maybe, but that might involve him having to explain himself which will most likely be followed by a subsequent well deserved lecture and Bart is hoping to fix this without all that because he clearly fucked up. like, it’s very obvious. and he’s feeling very bad about it, honest.

back in the past again though, he nearly collapses, he’s seriously overdoing it at this point, afterall he was supposed to be able to recuperate once he got back. 

But he has to push through, he can’t slow down, he has to find those two guys and nab their little machine that’s apparently a doomsday device or something, he doesn’t know when they will use it, or where, so slowing down now is absolutely out of the question.

“woah hey there man, are you alright?”

he’s startled into complete stillness, and then he’s just thinking about how this guy looks like a fusion between Robin and Superboy, he can picture it perfectly in his head, fully animated dragon ball fusion style.

it’s SuperRobin, real name Ton, or maybe Kim.

getting distracted, he was asked a question, better answer.

“yeahI’mfine” he wheezes, very believable stuff.

“no you’re not, do you need a hand? sick Impulse cosplay by the way”

So, yeah, Danny pesters Bart into at least eating and drinking something, he says that if the two guys, who are now identified to Bart as the guys in white also known as the GIW or the Ghost Investigation Ward… and Bart going “oh I know a ghost! she’s really great” and Danny being pleasantly surprised.

but anyway if those guys do anything he will know, cause apparently they are very loud and quite destructive. and that’s honestly no comfort to Bart cause he knows what the future is gonna look like, but also he’s about to pass out and that would be super uncool and also make him totally useless anyway so… eating and drinking first it is.

Danny is a local, which is useful cause Bart only knew the route he needed to take for his previous mission and not really anything else regarding this place. And he tells Bart that he’s screwed with the GIW before so he knows how they operate. it fucking sucks that Bart accidentally aided apparent government bad guys… the others can never find out…

Overall, working with Danny is pretty great. For a civilian the guy is very resourceful. he’s witty, smart, funny, a lot stronger than he looks, honestly maybe the SuperRobin fusion thing he thought about before has some merit… are there any hidden clone labs around? billionaires with zero morals? yes? no? maybe?

Bart simply told Danny that he needs the machine from the white suit guys for future superhero reasons. and he’s fully intending on just handing it over to Robin, hopefully while not having to explain why he has it in the first place, and see if he can figure out how it’s gonna cause the world to end so they can make sure that can never happen.

Danny says that the machine is probably just an anti ghost weapon of some kind. Bart is skeptical, because first of all, why would anyone need anti ghost weapons when magic is already a thing and works on them just fine. Like all the superhero exorcists that Bart knows use some form of magic, well he guess anti ghost weapons would be useful for the bats, but that begs the question why is the government going around trying to shoot ghosts? and why hasn’t Bart heard of this before, cause this sounds like something Robin would enjoy telling him about.

But Bart, with significant help from Danny, manages to… confiscate (steal) the machine from the white suits.

he promises Danny he’ll visit, cause they are friends now, it’s official. And he would love to introduce him to the others as well.

Once back Bart still gets lectured of course, and Tim does reveal that yeah, the box really is just some sort of ghost trapping device, and he’s keeping it.

Bart doesn’t really care, the only thing he cares about is that everything is back to normal and he even got a new friend out of the whole ordeal.

It's then that Robin brings up a new member for Young Justice who will soon be joining them, and Bart is completely confused.

Everyone else is confused at Bart’s confusion, this was already known a week ago? and Bart figures that something did change somewhere somehow anyway, that’s fine.

Kon reminds Bart of the new guy’s callsign, apparently it’s Phantom.

Bart tries to imagine what they would look like, but at the moment he can only picture Danny in a SuperRobin outfit.oh well, hopefully this just means that Bart manages to get two friends out of this whole mess.

[palskippah]

PLEASE I NEED SOMEONE TO DRAW AMBS AND BAL (MOVIE VERSION) ON THEIR WEDDING DAY KISSINF AGHHHH

HII I'm not good at drawing people kissing in the lips but I got these!!

References and some thoughts under the cut!

-One of the ways I imagine them marrying is through the civil (? whatever it's called in English), where Nimona would be right behind Ballister when he's signing like, sign, Ballister, sign the contract now! like that scene in Shrek 4 with Rumpelstiltskin

-Neither of them carried a bouquet, but they got one anyways just to throw it (Ambrosius did)

-Apparently in some Mexican weddings they throw the groom in the air to celebrate him and I love the idea, so both Ballister and Ambrosius get thrown in the air djfkdf

>(better if they're part of the crowd that is throwing them, and then it's them catching eachother when they fall aaa)

-Also the dancing, imagine it with any sort of music in the background and both of them dancing together and then just deciding to have fun on their own and doing whatever dance moves, even if they have nothing to do with the music (like there's cumbia sounding and Ambrosius is doing the gangnam style and Ballister is throwing it back or something 😭)

-They have a lot of fun wooo

-Also wanted to draw them in traditional clothes too wiwiw I hope you know what I mean with the 'groom pose' sjdksd both hands held in front of them

-Based this (unfinished) thingy on a TikTok I saw of 'if I (anxious person) were to get married' and thought of both of them but drew it with Ambrosius.

-It goes like:

Ambrosius: Hey! So- Just wanted to confirm, is the wedding still on? (Ballister answers) Ambrosius: Yes? (Ballister says something) Cool! I'll see you there then! Ambrosius, in his blue wedding clothes: I'll be the guy in blue. (Ballister says something) Yeah! Okay, bye, love you :D

>And at the other end of the thing, there was Ballister all nervously rambling to a very bored Nimona about what if Ambrosius calls it off last minute? Or what if he regrets marrying me right now? I can't just ask either, that'd be- and then there's the call and he's like, yes, it's still on! :D Yes I know, and remember I'll be wearing a dark sherwani. See you there, love you too :D

>And then they're both a bit more relaxed with that sjdfks (they're some rooms away from each other)

>[btw, those are supposed to be Ambrosius' moms helping him get the final details in his clothes done, like patting him to iron out the sleeves (they're ironed already) and placing his headwear and stuff]

-They're still pretty nervous tho, so, based in a video I watched, imagine them like:

Person marrying them: Now, I, Ballister. Ballister and Ambrosius, at the same time: I, Ballister- Ballister: ? I'm Ballister. Ambrosius: No, it's me. Ballister: Oh, okay. Ballister: No, wait what--

-Ambrosius: Hi, I'm Ballister's husband :D

>Ambrosius: This is my husband, Ballister. We're married :DD

>Ambrosius: We're the Goldenhearts :DDD

>>

-(some of the references)

That's it!

[chessholic]

ー

The One With

Joey's Food

ー

Joey Tribbiani

x

Reader

Summary: JOEY DOESN'T SHARE FOOD... However it seems that rule might not apply when it comes to you.

Author's Note: Someone asked me to publish my Joey fanfics, so this one is for you. <3

ps. I made that iconic Joey's Meatball Sub, it really made me feel alive again.

New comfort food unlocked

ー

You were so tired, and hungry.

Oh dear, you could eat a horse right now. Or maybe not if that meant eating the entire horse.

Finally you got yourself inside being greeted with everyone else except Joey.

Where was he? You could really just snuggle against your friend to forget all your worries. Joey felt like home, he felt safe.

Except Chandler would disagree with you, strongly, not that you could blame him after that robbery thingy.

"It's a zombie! Everybody, run!", Chandler shouted while jumping behind Ross and pushing him towards you.

"Hey!", Ross squeaked realising that Chandler, his best friend since the beginning of time, was sacrificing him to this supposed 'zombie'.

"Hahaha", you laughed a dry sarcastic laugh while getting your jacket off.

"What happened to you?", Rachel asked noticing your disheveled look.

"Your eye bags-", Rachel was saying before you gave her a stern look that did shut her up.

Monica also gave Rachel an are-you-serious look before helping you sit down at the kitchen tables chair

"Work huh?", Monica asked already knowing what was behind your current state.

Before you started to explain Joey made a grand appearance with his iconic sandwich. It makes your stomach growl and mouth water.

Joey sat at the table next to you, he gave you a tender look before getting ready to destroy his food, with the intention of not leaving even crumbs behind.

"So. I got to work a few hours early because my boss asked me to and as we know my boss, I couldn't refuse-", you started taking a deep breath.

"I had my mom's cooking for lunch, but there was so much going on I didn't have time to eat. And when I finally did- that ass had eaten it! My food! It was supposed to be the only good thing today, and it was taken away from me", you rambled trying not to break down completely.

"Oh, this reminds me of that 'MY SANDWICH' thing", Chandler said looking at Ross who just looked back at him shooting daggers out of his eyes.

"Oh, this gets much worse. I confronted that- idiot and it got a bit heated. Long story short, I got fired", you ended your story leaving out the details of wandering around the city crying your eyes out.

"Let's celebrate!", Phoebe cheered from the couch making everyone turn to look at her.

"Yeah, you hated that job! More than I hated serving coffee!", Rachel said trying to comfort you.

"I didn't hate the job, but the people", you muttered burying your face into your hands.

"That's my girl!", Chandler cheered giving you a quick pat on the back before hurrying towards the armchair.

Your stomach made a loud noise and you felt truly awful.

"Do you have anything to eat Monica? I don't have anything at home", you asked carefully your voice cracking slightly.

"I need to go quickly to the store-", Monica started hurrying to gather her stuff.

"Here, you can have my meatball sub"

The time seemed to slow down.

Phoebe stopped chewing her hair.

Rachel had her hand covering her mouth that was hanging open.

Monica dropped her purse to the floor.

Chandler almost fell off the armchair.

Ross had a look on his face that would be expected if someone would prove to him that dinosaurs had never existed.

You lifted your head to see Joey smiling and offering his food, to you, you.

Joey had a small amount of the sauce on his face.

"I already took a couple of bites if that's okay", he said looking a bit sheepish.

"Really?", you asked voice slightly shaky, knowing that nobody else dared to move or speak.

Joey nodded and you reached towards him. But to everyone's surprise you didn't take the sandwich.

However you got up and put your arms around his neck. Burying your face to his neck you mumbled so many thank you's that nobody could say exactly how many there was.

Maybe ten? Hundred? Hundreds? Who knows.

Then you gave a kiss to his cheek before pulling away and snatching the sandwich from him.

Eagerly you started eating it and you moaned slightly at the most delicious thing you had ever eaten.

"JOEY DOESN'T SHARE FOOD!", everyone suddenly shouted after they switched glances between each other.

Joey tried to look like he had no idea what they were talking about, his face was oddly red and he was feeling warm and fuzzy.

Joey loved seeing you happy, he could sacrifice one meatball sub for your happiness.

But only one.

When Joey looked at you eating happily his favourite Meatball Sub he couldn't even see anything else than you. He didn't even care about his friends who were still shocked and wanted answers.

Joey would give you every meatball sub for the rest of his life if it meant seeing you so utterly happy.

But he wanted a bite, at least.

ー

[imholtorf]

Sub-Level 50 - babybee au

for @yuukirita

Orion Pax and D-16 were brought to sub-level 50 as they meet baby bee for the first time.

---------------------------------------------

Darkwing is holding both Orion and D-16 as he flies down passing several sub-levels until he stopped and throws them into the room of the sub-level "Wait, wait, wait, you don't understand! We were supposed to go Sentinel Prime's service spot" D-16 protested "You two dolts aren't going to see anyone ever again! I'll make of that!" Darkwing retorted as he flies up and the doors closed.

"You're making a mistake, ask Sentinel!" Dee added "Ugh, I hate that guy" Orion grumbled. The mechs turned around and look at the room they're in; garbage is falling down from the chute, landed on the conveyor belt, and heading towards the furnace.

Suddenly, they spotted a tiny yellow cybertronian and he spotted them in return "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?" he wondered as he approaches them as Orion and Dee got startled as they shuffled themselves away from him as their backs are against the doors.

"You're like me...you're like me! Hi! I'm B-127, or Bee, or Badassatron!!! Why are you so much taller than me?" the tiny cybertronian exclaimed, but Orion and Dee answer as they couldn't believe their optics "Is that a--" Orion said "sparkling?" Dee finished his sentence. "What's a sparkling?" the sparkling asked.

"We should be asking you something, like: how did you get down here?" Dee replied "I don't know" Bee retorted "What do you mean you don't know?" Orion added "I mean I woke up in here" Bee said "You mean you've been down here when you came online" Orion stated "Yes" Bee answered "And exactly where is here?" Dee added "Sub-Level 50" Bee replied "50? but, there only 40 sub-levels" D-16 stated.

"If that's whatchu thought then they must've got 10 more down here" Bee added "Then how come none of us aren't informed about this?" Orion asked "Maybe, they're scary?" Bee suggested "Oh, what are your names?" he asked "I'm Orion Pax and this is D-16" Orion said.

"Okay, now with that clear. How do we get out of here?" D-16 asked "Ummm...you don't?" Bee guessed "We don't" Dee replied "Well, we have limited access to the waste management. But, the bot in charge does not like distractions. They prefer we stay here on the task at hand" Bee explained.

"Which is?" Orion asked "Oh, the junk stuff comes from the tunnel there onto the moving thingy" Bee explained "You mean the chute and conveyor belt?" Orion added "Um, yeah. Anyway, we have to look for anything might be worth useable before it hits the flames and gets melted" Bee finished.

"So, you watch garbage burn?" Dee stated "Yes! It is so great that you're here now. I can't wait to learn everything about you and then tell you everything about me. I've always wanted have some real friends!" Bee exclaimed "Uh, yeah we love--" Orion acknowledge as he and D-16 were holding themselves back as they found Bee's excitement adorable.

[zwoftt]

“oooohhh shiiiit yessss”…. weekly dorym moments + other stuff i found funny in the recent episode !!!

obviously moments are listed no particular order,,,

never gonna get over the fact that caleb is a cpopper. actually what the hell is this bit

dorian’s envy of caleb… the jealousy in his tone but manages to hide it so smoothly. bro just wants to be happy like caleb and essek are :(

caleb commenting on dorian’s pants during the first initial conversation LOLLLL “we get the idea” and robbie’s little head tilt thingy he does for dorian’s reaction AGH.

”we’re more of an improv crew” says dorian as liam fucking loses it (i hc that orym starts laughing))

orym saying he can’t fall from great heights and survive, dorian suggesting that he can make orym fly.

when beau says dorian looks like the type of guy to make a toast, and dorian gets all nervous about it- orym says “yeah she’s right. he is,” and gives a little nod to dorian.

the small glance dorian and orym make towards each other during the talk about weddings. “something to look forward to.”

liam accidentally calling dorian “dorym”

robbie’s little excited squeal when liam initiates a scene between orym and dorian ….

orym *wordlessly* pulling dorian by his hand to the side AAAAAAGGH

THE KISS!!! IT WAS SO PERFECT FOR THEM !!! orym asking consent beforehand, dorian’s awkward but very into it response… then after when orym asks if this is something dorian wants, and dorian replies with “oh, i want.” and KISSES HIM BACK. everything has been moving so slow for them and they finally get the chance to clash lips for 10 seconds… absolutely golden.

liam’s dance at the end when dorian moves in again and kisses orym back,,, the excited faces all over the table. and then braius. LOL.

[deebidabidoo]

At this point I've really got to ask for your top 5 (or top whatever you prefer) wacklin moments. I'm ready to be enlightened by your superior knowledge🫶🏻

i am no where close to having a superior wacklin knowledge i'm just chronically online and insane about them but thank you for thinking so alfjdfjdfj

i went with top 10 because we got so much stuff over the season actually:

the most obvious answer out of these i think but the mack hat trick game has to be on here for me. idk just something very very romantic to me about will having an assist on every mack goal and mack having one on will's game tying. and sharks still lost. something about that too.

mack crowning will as a pregame-handhsake-ritual-whatever-thingy - the cunties thing they have done to this day and no i will not be taking criticism on this thank you very much. they need to bring this back. the handshake thingy they did at the end of the season was cute i guess but this was CUNT

this video - something something mack being the biggest goof ever and celebrating that goal like it was a gwg in game 7 of stanley cup finals to make will smile and the little fist bump at the end. yeah.

the smelling salt on the bench - why is it so intimate??? mack smile??? will actually only making faces after smelling the salt to make mack laugh and its proven bc we have video evidence of him not being affected by it at all. i can't, they make me sick.

celly after macklin scores his first goal on a line with will - from being pissed off at the camp for not playing together to trying so hard to built some chemistry and it not kinda working and not playing on the same lines and then it kinda does click and mack's smile here and the way he only has eyes for will here and will's smile too and-

the shoulder bump on the bench - knowing will wasn't in the best mood for some time, mack giving him space at practice and then this happens and it feels like hey im not 100% okay still but im better now and i want you in my space even then. also will made kostin move away from mack so he can sit beside him on the bench before this too so that's that.

whatever domestic ass shit this was - you all better hide your kids away from them because they will come and steal them from you so they can live their domestic ass dream of raising 3 kids together with 2 dogs and a cat in the mixture in their love nest.

the pregame thingy before the boston game - this was just the juciest for the narrative i fear.

this celly - mack really said im not going in for the fist bump let me get my arm all the way around you and the way his hand also stays around will too. yeah.

let's breath into each others mouths while on the bench - just something so disgustingly tender how they keep seeking out one another at any given moment. its you. and its me. and its us.

and gonna cheat and add this one too but whatever this weird courting ritual this was - mack looooooves being manhandled by will jot that down. if will gets even a little bit bulked up over the off season mack is D O N E.

and cheating again and few days later too because this just appeared on my dash and i can't believe i forgot about it. 'willy' he said. he will die if will's attention isn't on him at all times.

now before you come at me i tried to not say some of the obvious stuff like the whole never offside pod, the rookie lap, the let me take will to jr sharks game after will got benched the day before and let him wear my warriors hoodie and will tagging mack on his ig post, the whole 4nations break thingy, the nhl video of their debut game, the awards video, the worlds greeting each other video, the emergency call video, every single private sewer ball shit they do, the stuff we got from practice (im forever thinking about you mack in the goal and will leaning over it and macking mack giggle so loudly), the not everything is a two man job video (my GOD how many are there) and many many MANY more because obviously those are the golden mines too but i tried going for a little more niche things i guess? idk if i succeeded in that but yeah. sorry this got so long im a yapper and a wacklin lover first human second.

[foone]

understanding "foo fighters"

As someone who is named in a way that dates back to the same base word, the first thing you need to understand is that "foo" is a placeholder word. It's a "thingamajig", a "john doe", a "widget", a "thingy". It means a thing but the thing is not specific.

So, foo is a whatever. Smokey Stover (where "foo" comes from) drives a Foomobile.

Foo doesn't mean anything. It means foo. This comic is popular in the 30s, and "foo" enters general culture. Then WW2 happens, specifically the air war: Pilots are flying more and faster than ever before, and they see weird stuff. Echoes on the radar, lights that move in the sky, including ones that seemed to follow them, stealthily.

They called them foo fighters. As in, they're fighters, like fighter planes, but the foo type. Not "Allied fighters", not "Nazi fighters" (though sometimes the foo fighters were called "Kraut Fireballs"), not jet flighters... foo fighters. We don't know what these unidentified flying objects are, so they're foo. They're "foo fighters".

They're very definitely NOT fighters against foo. They're not like "firefighters" or "crime fighters". They don't fight foo. They are fighterplanes that are foo.

Also, fun fact: The name "foo fighters" came from the 415th Night Fighter Squadron, who were a US Air Force unit from 1943-1947, in the mediterranean and northern europe. Their radar operator gave them the name, but the name was actually "fucking foo fighters", as in "those fucking foo fighters!". It got cleaned up when the story hit the press, and in the official logs.

But yeah. The band got their name from this WW2 name for a specific category of UFO they were spotting on their missions, but doesn't mean those who fight foo. It means fighterplanes of foo.