#where I was going with it

[kickis-conan-king]

Keith was resigned.

It wasn’t a bad thing but it was becoming an increasingly inconvenient thing. Keith kind of liked it- he’d never had a crush on someone like this before and it felt like the first normal, age appropriate milestone he had had. However, he knew it was something he had to get rid of. It was way too distracting, and he had to focus.

Focus, Keith.

He breathed out slowly through his nose and tried to ignore the devastating way that Lance was taking out training droids. He did not watch the way Lance’s shirt rippled over his stomach as he raised his rifle, did not follow the trace of Lance’s tongue as he licked sweat off his upper lip, and absolutely did not feel his stomach swoop as Lance dropped seven droids in a matter of moments.

“...and then that should be it. What do you think, Keith?” Shiro asked, turning to Keith from where he had been talking to him for the last couple minutes. “Sound like a plan?”

Keith startled and tried to remember what Shiro had been saying.

“Uh, well…” Keith licked his lips to try to bring some moisture into his dry mouth. “Yes?”

Shiro’s face dropped. “You weren’t listening at all.”

“Unfortunately.” Keith said with an apologetic grimace.

Shiro sighed. “Whatever. I just wanted your input on some of the hand to hand combat drills I have planned but if you're too busy..”

Shiro’s tone was one Keith knew all too well. It was dry as an aged white wine.

Keith rolled his eyes.

“As if you really need my input.”

Shiro nodded amicably. “True. I don’t need it.” He chuckled as Keith frowned, then continued.”But I do want it. You have a natural ability for hand to hand and can often see something where I can’t. Speaking of which..”

Shiro leaned in conspiratorially, a twinkle of knowing that Keith disliked in his eye. “What were you staring at?”

Keith sputtered and felt his face go red. His eyes slid away from Shiro’s just to land back on Lance, where he was smiling a goofy, triumphant grin and prancing in front of Pidge and Hunk.

“No one!” Keith said, too quick. Shiro was smarter than that, and Keith wanted to slap his palm over his face as soon as the words left his mouth.

“I didn’t ask whooo.” Shiro sang teasingly.

“Please drop it, Shiro.” Keith was just going to look at the ceiling. He swallowed. His face was burning and his hands were suddenly wet with sweat.

“Okay, sure thing, kiddo.” Shiro nodded. “Dropping it.”

Then, with the kind of dangerous smile that has only ever been worn by a sibling up to no good, Shiro turned away. He stood a little straighter, suddenly a commander again, and barked out words that made Keith’s heart simultaneously rise into his throat and drop to his knees.

“Pair up everyone! Lance, you’re with Keith. Pidge, with Allura. Hunk you’re with me. Hand to Hand. We are going to practice grappling. The first one pinned for a 3 count is a rotten egg.”

Keith groaned. Shiro turned around and sent him a sly wink.

“I hate you.” Keith hissed at him.

Shiro couldn’t respond because Lance was already bounding over to Keith. He stopped in front of Keith with an open- mouthed grin, an eyebrow raised mockingly. He bounced from one foot to another like an MMA fighter before a match.

“Oh, I am sooo kicking your ass on this one, mullet head.” Lance rolled his shoulders, sure and cocky.

Damn, Keith liked him so much.

“Alright, yeah.” Keith matched his energy, feeling himself get drawn into the familiar back and forth. “Go ahead and give it a try, string bean.”

Just like Keith knew he would, Lance squawked in affront at the offense to his appearance.

“Okay now you’re really gonna get it.” Lance said, his smile bouncing away on his face even as he raised his fists to punch the air in front of Keith.

“I’m shaking in my boots.” Keith sneered back.

"You're underestimating me, Keithy baby." Lance's grin was sharp and Keith's guts were thrilling over the use of 'baby'. "But I'm a middle child and you don't know the meaning of 'grapple' until you've been fighting for your life between an 11 year old and a 17 year old trying to claim the tv remote."

Keith scoffed just for the delight of doing so. His ears were burning. He was enjoying this too much. He felt like everyone could see it if they looked at him. He felt simultaneously embarrassed and self satisfied. He tried to keep it off of his face, but looking into Lance's challenging, sparking eyes, Keith could feel his own grin tugging his mouth into something fanged and thirsty.

He pushed Lance's shoulders. "Grapple me then, tough guy."

Lance's eyebrow quirked and an exciting spike of fear raised Keith's blood. Was Lance picking up what he was putting down?

"Ready for me?" Lance said, advancing a step and raising his arms.

"Always am." Keith said proudly, and then the two of them were clashing.

Of course Shiro would make them grapple. What better way to torture Keith in a way he can't protest against? Curse his observant bastard brother.

Lance's arms were strong and tan. Watching Lance's forearms flex while trying to keep Keith in a hold was making him warmer than the actual exercise.

Lance wasn't kidding about being good at grappling, either. His limbs were long and he was flexible and he was strong. It was one thing to know Lance was strong- Keith obviously knew he was, they were soldiers for Christ's sake- but it was a completely different thing to experience it. Keith was getting manhandled and he tried not to find it hot.

Keith dug in his heels to give as good as he got. He bucked and evaded and twisted his body out of Lance's grasp. The problem was that their bodies always remained close, heat trapped between them, sweat making their skin slick. Keith could feel Lance's heartbeat pounding against his back as Lance held him in a headlock. Keith tried to arc his body away, but he just ended up curving his spine so that his hips aligned snugly with Lance's. Lance grunted softly against Keith's ear and Keith panicked.

Keith's butt was practically rubbing against Lance's crotch. Keith could almost feel it. His body flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and desire. He needed to get out of this position, now, before his body reacted in a way he would regret. He was already in a heightened state from all the closeness and panting and fighting-not-fighting.

Keith thrashed a little desperately, his face heating. Lance's arms were so firm around him he barely had the space to maneuver, but he managed to toss back his head and with a sickening crack! the back of his skull met Lance's nose.

Lance staggered back and fell, holding a hand to his face. Keith wheeled around and dropped to his knees next to him, watching blood well up between his fingers.

"Shit, Lance." Keith said, forgetting about the match and his own embarrassment. He reached his hands out. "Are you alright?"

Lance levelled him with a glare. Their faces were so close that Keith could see the flecks of brown, like amber islands, that dotted Lance's ocean irises.

Keith got lost in them.

Then, lightning quick, Lance tackled him. He straddled Keith so he was pressed between the cool metal of the training room floor and the fever-heat of another body. His hands were pinned above his head and he could feel Lance's blood around his wrist, slippery and warm, from where it had puddled in Lance's palm. Above him, Lance's nose was dripping, streaking his lips and his chin bright red.

He was still smiling.

"One…" Lance whispered. Keith felt a speckling of blood spray off his lips and land on his cheeks as Lance spoke.

Keith gave a feeble attempt at kicking out. Lance leaned all his weight on him. Keith felt completely compromised. He fit perfectly between Lance's thighs, and Lance wasn't letting gravity do the work of holding him down- he was pressing forward into Keith with the kind of single mindedness that came out in him during battle.

"Two…" He sang, opening his mouth so Keith could almost see his back teeth.

Keith tried writhing away, his fight-or-flight triggered by the intensity of the moment. Lance was far too close. Keith's heart was pounding. He was aroused and agitated all in one and he wanted to bite Lance and kiss him and laugh and scream.

"Three!" Lance crowed, victorious. Lance sat back so all his weight was put on Keith's pelvis. He crossed his arms and chanted mockingly. "You're a rotten egg, you're a rotten egg!"

"Lance!" Keith shouted. "That wasn't fair!"

"Why not?" Lance pouted. "You're the one who hurt me!"

Keith groaned because what could he say? Sorry, Lance, foul play due to being too goddamn sexy? Lance would literally incinerate him on the spot and never let him live it down.

So instead Keith just seethed on the ground in a puddle of his own shame, waiting for everyone else to go. Eventually Shiro came to pull him to his feet. He held out a hand.

"Okay, I admit." Shiro said sympathetically. " I wasn't expecting you to be that gay. Sorry, Keith."

Keith just moaned in dismay and let his brother pull him to his feet.

[bizarrebazaar13]

what if your doppelgänger wasn’t evil it was just a person. what if your doppelgänger wasn’t trying to replace you it was just trying to learn to be a person and you were the best model it had. what if your doppelgänger looked at you with your eyes and said with your voice that it just wanted to be loved. what then.

[bixels]

As gen-AI becomes more normalized (Chappell Roan encouraging it, grifters on the rise, young artists using it), I wanna express how I will never turn to it because it fundamentally bores me to my core. There is no reason for me to want to use gen-AI because I will never want to give up my autonomy in creating art. I never want to become reliant on an inhuman object for expression, least of all if that object is created and controlled by tech companies. I draw not because I want a drawing but because I love the process of drawing. So even in a future where everyone’s accepted it, I’m never gonna sway on this.

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[riacte]

not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing [what would happen between earth and the moon if the earth stopped spinning as illustrated by xkcd randall munroe]

[tawnysoup]

Finally now that the comic is fully public on comicfury, I get to share it with all of you here, too <3

If you enjoyed, please consider supporting by buying a PDF of the comic on itch.io: https://tawnysoup.itch.io/home-in-the-woods

[mysillycomics]

[darlingofdots]

my parents are on holiday in their mobile home

they're expected back this upcoming weekend

I just spent ten days in my childhood home to keep an eye on things

I have hidden 100 small yellow ducks all over the house

I am very excited for my parents to be back

[soulswordlesbian]

that david shrigley lino print made me feeel things

[inkskinned]

the tradwife movement is the same as it has always been - back in the kitchen, back to breeding - it just has better branding.

when i was younger, i hated pink. i was not like other girls. this is now something i'm embarrassed of - this was not me being a "girl's girl."

but it was expressing something many of us felt at the time: i literally wasn't what girlhood was supposed to be. this is a hard thing to explain, but you know when you're not performing girlhood correctly. it isn't as easy as "i liked x when girls liked y" - because there were other girls that liked x, too - but i never figured out exactly the correct way to like x, or to be interested in y.

now there is the divine feminine. this is the same rhetoric it has always been: women are biologically driven to like pink and ribbons and submitting to our husbands.

the problem is that the patriarchy found a better PR team. because yes, actually, i want every woman to have the choice to be a homemaker. i also want her taken seriously for her legitimate home-making labor. i want her to be recognized as also having a job, just unpaid. i want men to have this opportunity, too.

but it is no longer "i made this choice and I love it." instead it is a sixteen-paragraph rant about how selfish it is that my generation isn't having kids. instead it's long videos about how if you feed your children processed foods, you're going to kill them. instead it is "this is what womanhood is supposed to be. i feel bad for any other choices you're making."

the shame spiral is just prettier. it is large houses devoid of personality. it is the implication: if you don't have this, you aren't happy. the solid, everlasting assurance: women are actually supposed to be submitting. this is the default. this is the natural state of things. all other attempts inflict suffering.

but you can no longer say i'm not like other girls. you can no longer reject this image completely. you cannot find it revolting, even if you know that the underbelly is toxic and festering. sure, it is the same repackaged patriarchy. but the internet does not have shades of grey. you should support and reward other women! your disgust is actually internalized misogyny. not because you are seeing a vision of yourself the way they're trying to train you to be. not because you feel her ghost pass within an inch of your earlobe. not because your father will eventually ask you - why can't you be like her?

because they figured out how to make it beautiful: women will sell other women on this idea, and we will find the singular loophole in feminism. sure, she's shaming you in most of her videos. sure, she implies that a different life is obscene. but she just wants you to be happy! you'd be happier if you were listening!

and the whole time you're sitting there thinking: i'd actually just be happier if i had that kind of money.

[dishesoap]

the worst part about being an adult is thay its no longer socially acceptable to just roll down a really big hill and then run back up it and roll back down again. "oh is this a syphilis metaphor" passerby would ask. "is this for a tick tock". no i just wanna come home covered in dirt and scratches and bask in the the solace of childlike mirth

[scopeystfu]

naww this was lk soo satisfying. a bitch with braids it is a guarantee in life that this gonna HAPPEN TO YOU AT LEAST ONCE ESPECIALLY IN A FIGHT AHAHA

[mushyooms]

Poseidon: after everything you've done, how will you sleep at night?

Odysseus:

based on this incredible tweet below i only drew over it HAHA

[bruhstation]

you’re just like the rest of them

[hinamie]

post-graduation trip airport looks