#I don't even know how to be funny in this

[teaboot]

Do you know what this site thought of Elon Musk before he started supporting Trump and gave that Nazi Salute?

Going how far back? Ten years ago, we didn't talk about him and nobody cared. He was not in the wider public consciousness. Those who knew who he was mostly thought "oh yeah he's that rich guy who wants to look smart" and nothing much else was said. I think his first bump in popularity was when he married Grimes, and then he was just the weird rich dude Grimes married. I did not know who Grimes was and still kinda don't. She had a Tumblr blog and then made some music and had a baby with a weird name and then vanished kinda post-divorce afaik.

Then I think maybe five years ago ish he sort of started showing up more as a sort of weaboo man-baby deal? Pictures of him in Les Mis cosplay, dressed as a furby, and showing off empty Diet Coke cans and a fake replica gun on his nightstand circulated.

My impression was that he was just like. If that creepy awkward guy in class who unironically does the Naruto run and thinks katanas are magic was spawned out of the ether with infinite money.

And then I think maybe after that was how stupid he is? That became public knowledge shortly after-like how the safety vests in some of his factories are in washed-out neutral colours cause he doesn't like neons. Or like... how he seemed to be giving off the impression that he was a genius inventor, despite not actually making anything or having any kind of specialized area of education I can speak of? Not off the top of my head at least. Like I couldn’t even tell you if he has a degree in anything. All I know is like. He was an owner with PayPal and then bought Tesla?

And simultaneously if I remember correctly he was kind of always about "if we don't let the nazis talk on twitter then we're basically á dictatorship" or whatever, banging on the free speech drum and going on about how jokes used to be funny, then bluffed about buying twitter and somehow got legally shoehorned into ponying up and actually doing it for WAY more than it was worth, almost immediately making it worse and tanking its value.

Now it seems kind of like an Emporer's clothes situation where everyone knows the Emporer is naked, but instead of getting embarrassed and covering up, the emperor just keeps doubling down harder.

Meanwhile his whole entire ass is just. Out

[carriesthewind]

WOW.

Okay, after a night's sleep, I have decided that yeah, there is value in responding to this absolutely steaming pile of ignorant, self-centered, self-important, anti-intellectual, b.s.

It looks like a number of people in the notes were swayed, at least to some degree, by this garbage, so I think it is worth trying to show why it is nonsense.

(Also it's possible I'm still spoiling for a fight after being denied an evidentiary hearing on Friday.)

I'm not reblogging the post because folks don't need a self-aggrandizing tantrum on their dash, but I do think it is worth taking a look for yourself, in order to practice your analytical skills. Some questions to consider as you read:

(1) What is OP saying in her original post? What claims is she making?

(2) How, if at all, does the poster respond to claims OP made? What claims is the poster saying that OP made? Do these match what OP actually said? If not, (a) what techniques does the poster use to transform what OP said into the claims the poster is claiming OP made? (b) What rhetorical purpose does it serve for the poster to warp OP's claims?

(3) What affirmative claims is the poster making? What evidence or arguments do they provide to support their claims? Do they explore any of the specifics or real world implications of their claims? If not, what real world implications of their claims can you think of?

(3) What other rhetorical techniques does the poster use to bolster their argument? Do these techniques actually enhance and support the substance of their argument?

(4) Relatedly, how does the poster play into the biases of their assumed audience (tumblr users with generally progressive policies). What claims do they make to play into those biases? What evidence or argument, if any, do they make to support those claims? Are these claims by the poster reasonably related to the claims made by OP?

Now, let's explore their response in detail!

(Also obviously don't harass the poster, and I would recommend not directly engaging with them at all. Harassment is vile and makes you far worse than them. And earnest engagement is unlikely to be productive - the OP tried to engage with them politely (and even offered to help) in the notes of poster's original post. In response, the poster (1) implied that OP is an obsessive rude busybody. (2) Told OP to "Shhhhh. Chill." (in response to (paraphrased), 'hey, the advice someone else gave you is probably a waste of time and effort'). (3) And finally, after condescendingly telling OP, "Breathe. Practice radical acceptance. Know that I am here on the other side of the internet, flagrantly wasting my effort and thinking of you every second of that time," proceeded to prove that they were, in fact, "thinking of [OP] every second of that time" by searching OP's blog to find this post by OP and dumping this Arrested-Development-level demand to be taken seriously in the reblogs.)

(All of which is to say: hi, poster who was "being vagueposted about." I assume you are reading this, because you demonstrably don't have the good sense to block and move on. I'm not going to block you in advance, because I think you have the right to make your own terrible decisions, and I suspect any response you make is going to be *very* funny. See you in the notes!)

So, let's go through the poster's response, paragraph by paragraph.

They begin by doubling down on the stance that, "any sufficiently deep enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor." This, they say, is their defense of that stance. Let's see how it goes - but first, I think it's worth remembering, OP's original post is literally a single sentence long.

OP's claim, paraphrased, that the claim that "any sufficiently deep enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor" is incorrect and anti-intellectual. If we read the OP's tags, she clarifies that enthusiasm is valuable, but different from expertise.

The poster starts their defense with a long...explanation that the structure of their claim was a reference to the Arthur C Clarke's third "law" (read: sci-fi fiction adage).

*deep breath*

Ok. I'm a big a fan of wordplay as the next person. And I know from personal experience that it can be really frustrating to do some fun wordplay to make a point, and then get misinterpreted here on tumblr.com.

But. The wordplay has to make a point for it to be relevant to your defense. OP's claim wasn't "this poster did a bad job with the linguistic structure of this sentence and is not familiar with classic sci-fi." How does the "rhetorical structure" of the poster's claim support the substance of their claim???

It doesn't, is the answer. The poster explicitly asks this question later down, but then they never actually answer it. Instead, the rhetorical effect of this whole digression is just to throw out surface level references to things (Arthur C Clarke! "AI"!) that might make the poster sound more thoughtful and knowledgeable. It also creates distance from OP's actual point - as the post continues, the poster has to remind us what they're talking about. This gives the poster more control over the narrative, over what claims are under discussion.

Which leads to the poster's next paragraph: the unanswered question of why the poster structured their claim to resemble a sci-fi author's famous quote, and a baseless attack on OP.

And I think it is worth really lingering on this attack on OP. The poster claims, OP perhaps is "misreading or misinterpreting" the poster's point. But what on earth is the poster talking about? OP literally just quoted the poster's exact words and then said that they think this is anti-intellectual. What "misreading or misinterpreting" is being done?

No. Instead, this attack rhetorically sets up the poster's next couple paragraphs: not actually defending their claim as OP originally quoted, but reinterpreting their own words, providing their own special unique meaning that they will then proceed to use for the rest of the post. They are redrawing the rhetorical bounds of the conversation. Rather than defending their stance, they are redefining their stance so that it matches the defense they now want to make.

(Which is still bad. It's a bad defense and it makes me very angry.)

The poster proceeds to define "academic rigor" in a way that just means, "enthusiasm." Notice how no part of their definition includes things like critical thinking skills, building up a knowledge base, testing ideas, receiving criticism (wow I wonder why), or any expertise or action to build up and test that expertise. It's just what a person "cares very much about," how much "curiosity" they have; some inherent quality someone who "NEEDS to know." (Also hit the bell for another surface level reference - this time to Herodotus - to make the poster sound more knowledgeable.) If you actually read the poster's definition, it is entirely "idk vibes i guess."

Now, having defined "academic rigor" as enthusiasm, they successfully declare that enthusiasm is a necessary precondition of enthusiasm.

And then, we get the best paragraph of this entire tantrum of a post: "Any sufficiently deep enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor. It's like a fractal -- the closer you look, the more complicated it gets." No only is this another attempted surface level reference, this time to fractals, but just. What is this supposed to mean. At a glance, it seems like it kind of follows from the last paragraph - maybe, the more an enthusiast looks at something, the more there is to know? But the closer you look at this sentence, the more nonsensical it gets. What does things getting more complicated the more you look at them have to do with academic rigor (either a real definition or the poster's enthusiasm-based definition)? More importantly, what does it have to do with proving the point - that enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor? (You might as well say, "the further you fall down the rabbit hole, the deeper you realize it goes," except then more people would realize you are expressing straight conspiracist reasoning oops.)

Now, several paragraphs in and having firmly taken control of the rhetorical boundaries of the argument, the poster finally decides to provide some context to the original statement (and needlessly insult OP for trying to be helpful again).

The poster correctly quotes relevant parts of the discussion (although mischaracterizes their own responses as "polite" instead of "incredibly condescending and rude"). However, the poster then immediately characterizes OP's response as "muddied." Because words have objective meanings, however, we do not need to accept this characterization. OP expressed her argument very clearly. Rather, it is the the poster who claimed that OP was making an argument that she was not, which we can paraphrase as, 'passion and capacity for learning are limited to formal education at academic institutions.' It would be convenient for the poster if OP was making this argument, because it could be easy to argue against. But since OP clearly stated that she does not believe this clearly incorrect thing that the poster made up in her head, the poster claims that her response was "muddied."

The poster emphasizes this false claim in the next few paragraphs. They say, "to me she seems to be arguing that one MUST (?) receive formal training at an academic institution ("academic training" "trained expertise") in order to achieve that level of rigor." But OP simply doesn't say that. You can look at the reply the poster quoted, it doesn't say what the poster says it does.

Now, this is speculation on my part, but I think the poster really believes that OP is saying 'passion and capacity for learning are limited to formal education at academic institutions.' I think they believe this because its how they feel when they hear the (correct) statement that enthusiasm does not equal expertise. The poster repeatedly says that they think that enthusiasm for learning is the same as expertise. They throw a tantrum after receiving the slightest, politest, disagreement. They think someone giving them advice that hey, maybe its a good idea to get a basic foundation of knowledge before cold-emailing experts is a busybody who is obsessed with lecturing them. The poster simply, demonstrably, doesn't believe expertise is real, and refuses to admit that someone else might know more or better than them. If they "care very much about getting it right," how dare you say they aren't as good as anyone with "academic training," fuck you very much you elitist jerk.

This sense is emphasized by their next paragraph. First, they shift the rhetoric framework of the conversation again. The actual claim the poster says they are defending is that "any sufficiently Deep Enthusiasm is indistinguishable from Academic Rigor" (emphasis added). Now, they are claiming that OP means that no one outside of an academic context "has the capacity to learn what rigor means in their field." These are very different claims, but the poster shits between them seamlessly.

Second, they just completely misunderstand what academic rigor is. I'm sorry, you can read every book and article and (*sigh* dear god) TED talk in the world, that doesn't make you an expert, and that's not academic rigor. A large part of academic rigor is in how you critically engage with what you read. Otherwise you just end up, at best, with a bunch of shallow facts that you can "whip out at dinner parties to impress [your] acquaintances" or sprinkle as references in arguments on tumblr to make you sound smarter.

But no, the poster confirms in the next paragraph, you don't need critical thinking or training or people who will tell you that you are wrong. All you need is the information. And if you disagree, you are arguing in favor of "the ivory tower." (Take a drink.)

In the next two paragraphs, the poster pays lip service to the idea that sure, it's easier to learn in academia. But even then, they imply that somehow that's the easy route, that good learning environments create weak men, that people who are self-taught are the ones who are actually building up the critical thinking skills because someone doesn't just "tell them the answer."

Then, before the readers have a chance to absorb, wait, did you really just say that academia is really just having someone either tell you the answer or where to look for the answer and therefore unsuitable for "sincerely love to learn," (because you are, in fact, anti-intellectual), the poster then throws in a bunch of shallow buzz phrases about how higher education isn't available to a lot of people.

And I say these are just shallow buzz phrases for two reasons. First, the poster never actually engages with this lack of access. It's just sprinkled in, like the references to Arthur C Clarke and Herodotus. (For example, no, actually, "any sufficiently MOTIVATED person" can't actually access all this information that is online. You need a stable internet connection, devices to allow you to make use of that connection, to speak or read the language those materials are published in, enough time and sleep and food and goddam shelter.)

Second, this doesn't actually have anything to do with the actual claim that the poster is supposedly defending. Remember that? Remember the position the poster is arguing for? "Any sufficiently deep enthusiasm is indistinguishable from academic rigor." How does, "some people can't go to college" support that claim, specifically?

It doesn't, which is why the poster's next paragraph instead claims that OP is arguing that "those people do not have the ability to hold themselves to a rigorous standard of learning."

Which just.

Fuck you?

Because yeah, that would be a shitty opinion to hold! And you are the only person raising it! You are explicitly making the claim - fuck, perpetrating the anti-intellectual worldview - that anyone who suggests "caring about something does not inherently equal subject matter expertise" is an elitist who thinks that everyone else, ordinary people, real Americans, are stupid.

I'm gong to be honest, this is the part of the poster's claims that made me mad enough to respond.The notes include people agreeing that academics and "experts" are actually pretty elitist, aren't they, and they deserve to be "taken down a few pegs," that suggesting that you need a baseline level of knowledge or vocabulary before you can engage deeply with a subject is "gatekeeping."

The U.S.'s institutions are crumbling as they are dismantled by people that are making these exact same arguments. There is no meaningful difference in the reasoning of the poster's argument here, and the argument that "alternative medicine" hacks who never completed their medical training have sufficient credentials to run goverment agencies, and that if you bring up their lack of credentials, well, that just proves what an elitist you are.

The "worldview" the poster does not accept - is telling you not to accept - is the idea that expertise exists at all.

And because that is an incorrect and harmful worldview, the poster has to use a bunch of rhetorical tricks to hide what they are doing. And then to sell it, they throw in a bunch of words to stir up the audience's preconceptions and biases. OP's claim (again, that enthusiasm and academic rigor are not equivalent) is "racist and imperialist." Why? Don't worry about it. Something something college is expensive and inaccessible to a lot of people. All you need to remember is that these ivory-tower academics are The Bad Thing.

*deep breath*

Anyway, knowing we need a laugh to bring the mood back up, the poster then says someone on reddit criticizing your argument is an "informal version[] of the peer-review process." Besides betraying a deep ignorance of the nature of peer-review (I guess even knowing how academic processes work is also elitist?), I think this means that the poster has to be cool with my post here, right? Because I'm just doing peer review? (Because also, just to be clear: "the academic structure of the peer review is a formalized process of the very human impulse to gleefully tell other humans when they’ve stuck their foot in their mouth." No. This is just. No.)

Next, more misstating OP's original claim. The poster says, "An institution of formal learning is not a prerequisite to pursue and absorb information," which OP already agreed with in the comments of the poster's original post.

In support of this claim that no one is arguing with, the poster than makes up a "guy at the model airplane shop who seems to know absolutely everything that has ever been known about WWII planes," and asks, "why don’t we acknowledge him as a legitimate expert?" The poster implies that this is because this guy is autistic and OP is a bigot.

But the real answer is simpler:

Unless you are referring to something you chose not to link for some reason, he's made up. He's a made up guy in your brain. And OP never said anything about him, so it's really weird for you to criticize OP for not sufficiently praising him as an expert. Fanfic isn't reality.

To the extent we are talking about real phenomenons - who do you mean by "we" and what do you mean by "acknowledge him as a legitimate expert"? There are lots of people with legitimate expertise, and in my experience, they often are recognized as such. And I don't know where you live, but outside of revenge-fantasies of conservative pundits and the people who are mislead by them, most academic experts aren't exactly exhausted and prestige and praise.

'Knowing a lot about a subject' is not the same as academic rigor. This isn't a criticism or insult to people who know a lot of things, despite your weird, self-centered hang-ups. Let me be clear here, actually: I am not an academic. I am a lawyer. I know a lot about the law in the areas I practice in. I do not practice the law "with academic rigor" because that's not really meaningful. I also like to constantly learn more about the law, including in many areas I don't practice in. I am not an expert in those areas. Just as an academic who studies the law and legal practice would not necessarily be good at actually practicing the law, my enthusiasm does not mean I have academic expertise (and my academic training is rather rusty, this many years out). This is normal? My ego is not threatened by acknowledging different kinds of expertise and knowledge exist?

And perhaps most to the point - "seems to know absolutely everything that has ever been known about WWII planes." "Seems to." An important part of academia - part of what makes it rigorous, if you will - is that you actually have to prove your expertise to other experts. They are then "recognized" as experts because there is a process the public can usually trust that they don't just "seem to" know what they are talking about. If you are talking to an amateur enthusiast - how do you know you they actually have the expertise they claim to have? Because I know of some guys who are really enthusiastic about the, claim to be experts, and have a lot of strong opinions about how they have reclaimed their Sovereign Identity by not capitalizing the letters in their name.

I agree with the poster's final paragraph. I love learning. But I can't see this as anything other than a manipulative postscript, a rhetorical trick of ending on a point of agreement and mutual enthusiasm. By a person - and I can't emphasize this enough - who refused assistance in learning and threw an enormous tantrum because someone suggested hey, maybe its a good idea to get a basic foundation of knowledge before cold-emailing experts.

[eraserbread]

i LOVE ex husband gojo with all my heart🤞🏻

pls do one where he catches you still wearing the ring 🙏🙏

oh, it's the perfect day to love ex-husband gojo... ✧

→ f!reader, drinking, smoking, angst, suggestive but sfw

for two people who swear they never want to see each other again, you and satoru do have a funny way of always bumping into each other.

living in different neighborhoods, you still frequent the same stores in his—and vice versa. his friends are your friends, and satoru was your friend before you started dating. a part of you wishes it stayed that way. yes, he was a debilitating flirt who made sure you felt his need, but it was cheeky—fun.

now, you're staring at him half-lidded, barely able to see the glisten in his eye from across the room.

you have to give it to your friends. they definitely tried to keep you two apart, but sometimes, it's impossible. suguru knew the bartender here, but shoko didn't tell you that suguru was the one who invited her out—you should've known.

now you're standing with your back to the wall, fingers squeezing the cup's rim so tight you wouldn't be surprised if it shattered in your grip.

satoru is so fucking tall, towering against the doorway, hidden behind dark glasses. his hair is shorter, all mussed up with delicate precision. half-done button-up shirt, tight pants, glossy shoes—you're gritting your teeth.

"who's dying first: you or suguru?"

shoko's leaned over the marble bar, long hair pulled back in a clip. she's cradling a cigarette between her fingers, exhausted but tipsy enough to hide it over against your wound demeanor.

she reads that ugly look on your face, then turns over her shoulder. you can't believe she laughs when that familiar, lanky body comes into view.

"how was i supposed to know gojo would be here?" she replies unenthusiastically. there's no way satoru didn't notice you two here, but you can tell suguru is trying to keep him at bay—perhaps he didn't even know. actually... scratch that. suguru definitely knew.

and it's such a slap in the face because you were sober. it's been two weeks since you crawled in toru's bed. no contact was going beautifully.

"suguru, then. got it." you deadpan, steely eyes cold and harsh as they bore laser beams into satoru's shadow. he's hunching down, talking to some strange girl with a hand on her shoulder. suguru's laughing next to him, no care in the world.

you swallow down the rest of your bitter drink, gulping it twice to quell the aftershock. then, you slam it down on the bar next to shoko, hands shaking as you storm off to the bathroom.

lucky you—it seems like he didn't even notice you. in the oddly pristine bathroom mirror, you're avoiding your ruffled reflection at all costs, hands wet and shaking as you strain and work at your ring finger, trying to rid the evidence of satoru's ring from your skin.

it wasn't even your size—the ring was his grandmother's—but you loved it. he never asked for it back after signing the marriage away, so you kept it—not as a sign of love, but one of wealth and purity. it's a small, priceless ruby rock blending in with your dark outfit seamlessly.

there's no way you drank enough to be struggling and shaking like you are, but not even wetness from the faucet could make it slide off of your hand. it gets stuck at the worst moment—you feel like you're gonna hyperventilate.

just as you feel the metal start to give, the unmistakable creak of the bathroom door renders you silent and still. you're too on edge to look behind you, shaking like a candle in the wind as it draws shut. the lock clicks.

"crazy running into you here." satoru's voice—the one that haunts your dreams—splashes over your back like ice water. you sputter. "it seems like every time I've seen you since, you've been drunk... or high on something. I don't like it."

"i-i-i'm-i'm not h-high." you stammer, squeezing your eyes shut in meek embarrassment. "you s-should leav-leave."

"well, i locked the door... i'm sure we have a few minutes to ourselves." he coaxes, deep voice sweet and tempting as he gives it to you. you're finally able to look up at the reflection, fire spreading through your veins at the sight of him this close. you can't see his eyes under his dark glasses—thank god.

you hope he didn't notice your shaking hand covering the ring.

"you stopped calling me..." he muses, closing in on you and the water-stained sink. you're starting to sweat with nerves, thighs buzzing in anticipation as his heat grows unbearable. "and showing up. made me worry."

"i can't keep running back to you when I need sex. it's not right."

"but, you know i can give it to you exactly how you need it." he whispers, the front of his toned, hard body pressing against your back. you let your head hang, embarrassed that you aren't pushing him away and running for the hills. no, you relax under his touch. your hands fall.

between the kisses satoru is pressing to your neck, he notices the small shine on your finger. your jewelry reflects the light, and you wear a lot of it. most of the silver bands and diamond bracelets were from him, but that ring on your finger...

he reaches out, snatching your hand in his grip. under his glasses, his eyes are wide and focused, gaze quivering like he's staring at his demise.

you choke in surprise. "what?!" his grip is tight, your fingers flex and strain in his hold, heart falling when you realize what he's fixated on. "l-look, I just had it o-

"why did you start wearing it again?"

it's an odd question, but satoru knows you took it off the day you left him. he kissed it the night prior once you tucked into bed—there's no way he'd miss its return. for some reason, this gets him going. his blood pressure rises. seeing his family ring on your finger felt like a leash and collar keeping you connected forever.

his guts swim.

"i-it matched my nails. stupid, i know-

he shuts you up, bringing your spindly finger to his lips. he stares at the pristine, spotless glimmer against the hue of your skin and the shine of water, and just can't help himself.

he leans in, closing his lips around the ornament like he was trying to suck it off.

you feel so trapped, his free hand is crossing across your tummy, thick forearm flexing as you wiggle. you claw at the meaty flesh on his arm, head falling back into his chest.

you hate how good he feels. you hate the security of his body pressed to yours... you're so ashamed, you wish this ground could open and swallow you whole.

[heartfullofleeches]

[Implied Neurodivergent Reader, Insecure Reader]

"Mono?... Do you think there's any way you could.. fix me?"

The robot's singular eye drifts aimlessly in the pitch black recesses brought forth by their helmet - targeting your smaller frame with a tingle of concern, daresay terror masked by the lack of expression on its face. Raising its arm, a beam of violet light basks you - a loud buzzer blaring as it scans over you.

"What seems to be the matter, Starlight? By my readings, you appear to be in functional conditions. Are your struggles perhaps.. internal? Of the mind as opposed to the body?"

"N..no? Yes?... I don't really know how to put it into words... I um... never had many friends growing up. The ones I did have grew tired of me for one reason or another... I always did too much or.. or too little... I was wondering if you had something... Like a chip you can put in my brain that would make me act more normally?"

Staring down at your feet, your eyes burn with the all too familiar sting of developing tears.

"I don't know what to do if you to grow bored of me too..."

"Oh, Starlight...."

Voice softer than air - Mono attempts to bow to your level. A comedic feat for one of their caliber. Despite kneeling, your head still barely reaches their upper torso. The crook of their talons collect the crystals that fall from your eyes - a large hand weighted firmly, soothingly to your shoulder blade.

"Nothing in all the known galaxies could make you more perfect than you already are. I would not change you nor trade you for anything - even freedom from my given role. My sole desire in this life - before I met you. Now, all my hopes and wishes revolve around you, and what the two of us can do together. The only way I'd grow tired of you is if acidic worms burrowed into my brain and took hold of my mind."

Their skin crawls with the thought. Well, it would had they the sensation.

"An unfortunate reality on my planet."

Biting your lip, you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the laughter that escapes. Mono's stiffened posture grows lax at the harmonious sound.

"S-sorry, Mono- The bluntness of your voice makes certain things you say a little funny..."

Mono nods in agreement.

"I understand. Even amongst my people I am considered a tad bizarre. Perhaps that's what draws us together. Whatever unifies us, I pray it will someday open your mind to the absolute truth that there is none like you and nothing pleases me more than to be my your side - the bearer of my heart."

[floralnicenerd]

Normally I reblog silly and funny things, but this time it's serious.

You heard that right: PBS (Public Broadcasting Station), the station responsible for PBS Kids and one of the many who are available to families with no Internet access or no cable, along with NPR, are dealing with cut funding by... you know who. PBS for me has always been part of my childhood, watching Wild Kratts, Wordgirl, Odd Squad, CyberChase, Sesame Street, and heck, even Arthur! Once I got older, I watched a couple of documentaries and enjoyed seeing Bob Ross paint on Create (related to PBS as a way for people to create (lol), cook/bake, and even explore -- that's how I learned about other cultures with Rick Steves).

But that doesn't matter, does it?

I guess not to the conservatives.

I'm too old for current shows, but it's nice to know that Maya & Miguel walked so shows like Rosie's Rules (mixed family in Texas, hello?? Also Mexican rep.) and Alma's Way (shout out to the Puerto Ricans! I didn't know there was another word for shaved ice since in Mexico it's "raspados") can run while teaching kids about Hispanic/Latino culture. But I guess they don't like that, huh? Too "woke" to have decent representation of other ethnicities, huh? Apparently, yes.

Remember the episode where Mr. Ratburn got married to Patrick, the guy that sells chocolate earlier in the episode? How the Internet exploded (hehe) when that aired? The kids didn't express disgust towards the reveal, they were pretty happy for their teacher getting married (especially Buster, who points out that Ratburn gets to have free chocolates for life)! Oh well, that did not matter anyway since this wasn't the first time LGBTQ+ representation was taken off of the air (see the "Sugartime!" controversy in which Buster goes to Vermont and meets two kids with (get this) two moms)

Enough chatter, please help out and

Protect Our Public Media!

... before it will be too late. Call or email your senators, let them know you're against defunding our stations!

- J

If you have an address within the United States, PLEASE consider taking sixty seconds to visit https://protectmypublicmedia.org to protest the executive order recently put in place to cut funding to vital public education and media programs such as PBS, PBS Kids, and NPR (national public radio).

PBS funds The American Experience show, which creates hour-long documentaries about American history. They frequently feature minority groups, African-American history, and missteps the government has made over the years. My favorites are the Love Canal doc, The Polio Crusade (which covers the march of dimes), and the history of American Eugenics doc. Watching their videos with your adblocker disabled is an easy way to give them money.

A PBS passport also only costs $5 a month minimum and provides access to a host of other content.

PLEASE take a moment to do send an email to your rep and sign the petition in the link below. This is vitally important programming which disproportionately benefits the poorest and most marginalized, but is still incredibly enjoyable even to those who don't need it. And remember: an uneducated public is an oppressed public.

[crystallilytarot02]

Your future partner's fashion style

+ lingerie

+ what they are wearing to sleep

(a little 18+ I guess, because of the topic)

Pile 1

Rich vibe. But I feel they don't neccesseraly wear suits, or if they need to wear elegant clothes to work, it's only something semi-formal, not a full suit. Or they change clothes after work very soon. It's more like expensive clothes, big brands, quality material. I think they are quite active, so the clothes often are sporty, but still, people can know that they like to wear only the best things. Probably gold jewelry, and can be a signature watch or necklace, which is pretty big. A lot of blue, grey or something pastel.

The underwear seems to be quite functional, comfortable but also good material and expensive. A little bit minimalistic. Except they probably have some unique, funny design, or maybe some funny socks too. It's just fun to wear a piece like that with an elegant attire. Can have some nerdy stuff too.

In bed, they prefer to wear nothing. If they ever sleep with roommates, than some old t-shirt and shorts probably, or if it's really cold, than underwear only. But even if it's cold, they prefer to tuck themself in the blanket completely, or 2 blankets, but they like to be without clothes.

Pile 2

They aren't so interested in fashion, but still manage to be always dressing good. A little bit overdressed preferably than showing up underdressed. Prefer to wear elegant but comfortable clothes, they would never go out in sweatpants. They like to wear silver or metal-ly accessories, they only wear gold or something big if it's a special occasion. They don't wear a lot of color, but know what suits them, probably something that matches their eyes. Also black is really suits them.

Their underwears are again mostly black or grey and white maybe, solid colors and only a little detail in them, or mostly minimalistic. But they also have some more elegant or sexy lingerie for special occasions. But black is really their color and it also looks sexy in them.

For sleeping, depends on their mood and how cold is the weather. Sometimes only underwear, or maybe an older t-shirt, but they have full sets of pyjamas and those are comfortable and also look good, some nice material, which feels good in their skin. After sex, they like to sleep naked also.

Pile 3

It can be that they have to dress elegant because of their job, but I think they are always well dressed. They probably don't care about how expensive, or what brands are the clothes, but they choose good material. Also pieces that suits them. Something that show their body nicely, their curves or how tall they are. They have a big presence, so even in ordinary clothes, they will catch people's attention. After work, or at home, it's like a different person, from a boss to a bad boy/girl vibe. Black leather jacket, sneakers, they can have tattoos too.

Again, 2 different sides. They have some nice, elegant underwear for public places. But at home, they are the type who stay naked after shower for a long time. Wearing a comfortable sweatpants, without underwear. They feel comfortable in their skin. They can have some underwear for sex, some kinky stuff.

Interestingly, they don't always sleep naked though. They have some nice robes, so if others are in the house too, you don't have to worry that they will go to the kitchen naked. They like loose clothes, nothing tight for sleeping. And these are probably for colder weather, usually they wear some underwear only. For some of you, they have a pet who sleeps with them or in the same room. After sex and in the summer, they don't even want a blanket, just full nakedness.

[inseobts]

Hello! I'd like to please request a little scenario for multiple characters if possible; I'm especially interested in your take on this with Law, Sanji and Ace given their backstory. If you're open to writing for the ladies as well then adding Robin into the mix would be appreciated! My idea is simple; an S/O with a child, and the aftermath of discovering that fact. I don't mind if it's an established relationship and there just wasn't an opportunity to meet the kid before or something else, I just like the idea of these characters dealing with the concept of surprise family/parenthood, the angst that may arise from dealing with the role of a stepparent if they want a relationship (and its happy ending if possible!) Good luck with all the requests, I hope you have fun with them!

Found Family (Reader with a Kid)

gn!reader

characters: law, sanji, ace, nico robin

tags: under each character + secret child

a/n: I started it with a fem!reader in mind and changed it to gender neutral only later since the post didn't mention the gender, so please if I missed some changes please tell me

words count: around 0.8k - 1.7k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Law:

Tags: Established Relationship, Surprise Family, Angst to Comfort, Fluff

The wind blows soft through the port town. Law steps off the ship, coat flapping behind him, hands in his pockets. He’s quieter than usual, eyes scanning the street ahead. He’s not here on a mission. He’s here for you.

You sent a letter three weeks ago.

Just one line: “I need to talk. Come if you can.”

Law doesn’t like surprises. But he comes.

He finds you standing outside a small house with peeling paint and flower pots on the windowsill. You smile when you see him, but it’s tight, like you��re scared.

He frowns “You alright?”

You nod “Yeah… I just—can we go inside? I don’t want to do this out here.”

Law follows you in. It’s warm. Smells like soup and soap. A small jacket hangs on a hook by the door. Not yours. Too small.

His sharp eyes catch it, but he doesn’t say anything yet.

You lead him to the living room and sit. He stands. Watches you.

You look down “There’s something I never told you.”

Law’s voice is low “I figured.”

You breathe in deep “I… have a kid.”

Silence.

You look up. His face is unreadable. Like ice. You hate that expression, it means he’s trying to think without feeling. To stay calm.

He speaks finally “How old?”

You blink “She’s five.”

He does the math. That means before him.

“She yours?” he asks, even though he already knows.

You nod “Yes. Mine. The... other parent's gone. Completely.”

He nods slowly. His voice is cold, but not cruel “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared.” You twist your hands “We met during a war. We never talked about kids, or… futures. Then we got together, and things felt good. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You thought this would ruin it?”

“I thought you might walk away.”

He looks away “You didn’t trust me.”

“That’s not fair,” you say, standing now too “I’ve been through things. I didn’t know how you’d react. You’re not… You don’t talk about family. You barely talk about your past.”

His jaw tenses. You hit a nerve.

You try softer “I wanted to wait for the right moment. But there never was one. Until now.”

Silence again.

Then small footsteps.

You freeze.

Law turns just as a tiny figure walks into the room, clutching a stuffed rabbit.

“Who’s this?”

Her eyes are big, curious. Law stares.

You kneel “Sweetheart, this is Law. He’s… He’s my friend.”

Law doesn’t speak. He just looks. She hides behind your leg.

You don’t blame her.

“She’s shy,” you say “But she’s smart. She reads pirates like storybooks.”

Law kneels too, finally, lowering himself to her level. His voice softens.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” he says “I’m just… surprised.”

Your daughter peeks out “You talk funny.”

Law blinks.

You laugh nervously “He’s from the North Blue.”

“Oh.” She tilts her head “Do you have a boat?”

Law nods “A submarine.”

Her eyes widen “Cool…”

She steps forward. He doesn’t move.

Then she offers her rabbit “You wanna hold Mr. Bun?”

You almost cry.

Law takes it. Careful. Gentle. Like it’s glass.

He looks at you over her head. Still unsure. Still quiet.

But he’s here, and he’s not walking away.

The rabbit sits on the table between you.

Law hasn’t said much since dinner. He eats quietly, politely. Your daughter sits beside him, munching rice balls like they’re treasure. She’s talking to him. A lot.

“Do submarines have beds?”

“Yes.”

“Do you sleep in them?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you dream of fish?”

“…No.”

You nearly laugh into your cup. Law sends you a look. It says help me. You shrug. You’re doing fine.

When she finishes eating, you ask her to brush her teeth. She runs off with Mr. Bun in her arms. The house falls quiet again.

Law leans back in his chair.

“You didn’t even flinch,” you say “When she offered you the rabbit.”

He shrugs “She trusted me. I didn’t want to break that.”

You nod, chewing on your lip “That means a lot, Law.”

He looks at you. Eyes sharp but not cold “I’m not angry.”

“Really?”

“I’m hurt.” His voice is honest now “You didn’t tell me. I could’ve helped. Been there. Or at least known what I was walking into.”

“I know,” you whisper “I was scared. I didn’t want to push you away.”

“I’m not made of glass, Y/N. I’ve lost family. I’ve lost everything. But I never said I didn’t want to build something new.”

You look down at your hands “She’s my whole world.”

“I can see that.”

“And now that you’ve met her… what do you want?”

He pauses.

That pause stretches long and sharp between you.

Then, softly “I don’t know.”

You nod. You expected that. You’re not mad. Just scared again.

Law stands and walks to the window “She’s a good kid. Brave. You raised her well.”

You smile a little “She’s got my temper.”

“I noticed.”

You walk over to him. You both stare outside. The moon is bright tonight.

“I’m not asking you to be her father,” you say “You don’t have to… take that role if you don’t want it.”

He turns “What if I want to?”

Your breath catches.

“I don’t know how to be that,” he continues “A father. A parent. I’m… I’m a surgeon. A pirate. I know how to fight, how to cut, how to survive. Not how to raise a child.”

You place your hand over his “She doesn’t need perfect. Just present. Just kind. Even I didn’t know how to be a good parent.”

He watches you. Something cracks in his expression.

“I want you.” he says.

“I want you too.”

“But I can’t lie to you… I’m afraid. I don’t want to mess this up.”

You squeeze his hand “We’ll learn together. She’s not looking for perfect either. She just wants someone who doesn’t leave.”

That hits hard.

He nods and then tiny footsteps again.

Your daughter peeks from the hallway “Hey... can he read me a story?”

Law blinks “Me?”

She nods “You have a cool voice.”

You laugh softly “What do you say?”

He hesitates. Then walks over.

“Alright, let’s try.” he says “But only one.”

She beams.

You stand in the hallway, listening through the door. His voice is low, slow, careful. Reading a picture book about sea creatures. She’s tucked in, eyes half-closed. The rabbit is between them on the bed.

Law finishes the page. She murmurs, “You’re not scary like someone said.”

You gasp quietly. Betrayal.

Law chuckles “Someone said that?”

“Mhm. They said you’re all sharp eyes and brooding. But you’re kinda soft.”

Law mutters, “I am never going to live that down.”

You grin and walk back to the living room.

He stays. Finishes the story. Even tucks her in.

When he comes out, he looks… changed.

“You did good.” you say.

“I didn’t even sweat.”

“Liar.”

He sighs, then smirks “Okay, maybe a little.”

You take his hand again “So…”

“So.” he echoes.

“You staying the night?”

He raises a brow “You asking?”

You smile “I have tea. And a couch. Or a bed, if you behave.”

He smirks “I’ll try my best.”

── .✦ Sanji:

Tags: Flirting Sanji, Soft Sanji, Humor, Fluff, Unexpected Bonding, Found Family

Sanji flirts with you every time he sees you.

At the market “Ah, Y/N! Did the sun rise just to see your face today?”

At the docks “Want me to carry those for you, my love? Your hands are far too lovely for heavy lifting!”

Even after the battle in your city, where the Strawhats helped “You’re even more beautiful covered in blood. Should I be worried about how much I love that?”

You never fall for it. You roll your eyes. You walk away. You don’t even blush.

It drives him insane.

“You’re difficult to get,” he says one afternoon, following you through town “but I like that.”

“I don’t fall,” you say flatly “Especially not for men with hearts in their eyes.”

“Ahhh, but my heart is sincere!”

You stop and face him “Sanji. You don’t even know me.”

“I want to.”

You pause. He’s annoying, yes. But not bad. He’s never pushed you too far. Never said anything mean. Just flirty. Charming. Too charming.

You sigh “Fine. You want to know me?”

He lights up “Yes! Of course!”

“Then come with me.”

You lead him through town, away from the market, away from the noise. Into a quiet part of the island. A garden path. A small house tucked in the trees.

He’s still smiling “So this is where the beautiful Y/N hides. A date, then?”

You don’t answer. You open the door. Inside, it’s neat. Warm. Lived-in. There are toys in the corner. A tiny pair of shoes by the door.

Sanji frowns “Is this… your house?”

“Wait here.” you say.

You go into the back room. A few seconds later, you return, holding a small child. Sleepy-eyed. Holding a stuffed whale. While another lady leaves the house as if her job there is finished.

You look Sanji in the eye.

“This is my daughter.”

Sanji freezes.

Dead silent.

You wait.

You expect a nervous laugh. A fast goodbye. A dramatic “I’m not ready for this!” speech.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead…

“Her hair’s like yours,” he says softly “She’s beautiful.”

Your daughter rubs her eyes, looks at him “Who’s that?”

You answer “Just... a friend.”

Sanji kneels slowly “Hi, sweetheart. I’m Sanji. Can I say hello?”

She shrugs. He waves. She waves back with the whale.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Whale.” Sanji says seriously.

You blink.

She giggles.

You didn’t expect this.

You make tea. Sanji helps. He insists, actually.

“She can’t have sugar this late.” you say.

“Then honey,” he says “Gentle on the stomach.”

You watch as he puts her cup in front of her like a butler. Bows. She bows back. You nearly choke on your tea.

“Do you cook?” she asks.

“Oh yes,” he says “Better than anyone.”

She claps “Make us dinner!”

Sanji glances at you. You nod. Why not?

He makes a simple meal. It smells amazing. Your daughter eats two full plates.

After, she sits in his lap and shows him a book of sea animals. He listens. Really listens.

You don’t understand what’s happening.

You were trying to scare him away.

Instead, he’s… perfect.

When she falls asleep, he carries her to her bed. Quiet. Gentle.

He tucks her in, fixes her whale beside her, and kisses her forehead.

You follow him back to the living room in silence.

“Well...” you say, still confused “That wasn’t what I expected.”

He smiles but smaller this time. Softer.

“I flirt because it’s fun,” he says “But I stayed because I wanted to see you.”

You stare at him “You weren’t scared?”

“I was shocked,” he admits “But not scared. You’re a single parent. That’s strong. She’s lucky to have you.”

You look away “I thought it would make you leave.”

“I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

You smile at that and look at him again. This time longer.

Sanji isn’t just charm. He’s heart. He’s warmth.

And… maybe you were wrong about him.

Your daughter’s asleep.

Sanji’s sitting on the couch, arms stretched over the backrest like he belongs there. His jacket is off, sleeves rolled up, and a soft smile on his lips.

He looks so… calm. Like this is normal. Like he wants this.

You sit across from him, legs tucked under you. You sip your tea. Your hands are shaking just a little, but you hide it well.

“Thanks for dinner,” you say “She loved it.”

“She’s adorable,” he says, smiling “And polite. You’ve done an amazing job.”

You stare into your cup “I didn’t do it alone. But… it’s been a long time since I shared her with someone.”

Sanji watches you quietly. No teasing now. Just listening.

You swallow. Here goes nothing.

“So,” you say “I’ve decided something.”

He leans forward “Oh?”

You lift your eyes to meet his “I’m saying yes.”

His brows lift “Yes to what?”

You smile “A date.”

He freezes “Wait. A—really?”

You nod.

“I mean, I’ve been asking for weeks, but I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you,” you say “I just didn’t believe you.”

“And now?”

“Now I do.”

He stares at you for a second. Then a slow, beautiful grin spreads across his face. Like he’s won a war. Like the clouds finally moved for the sun.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for days.

“You—you have no idea what this means to me, Y/N.”

You chuckle “I might have some idea.”

“Do you want flowers? Candles? Music? Should I wear a suit? I’ll cook, of course—”

You laugh softly “Just come as you are.”

He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly flustered “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

You sip your tea again. Calm on the outside.

But inside? Your heart is thundering. So loud it feels like it echoes in your chest. And he doesn't even know your heart is actually beating faster than his own.

You’ve had to be strong for so long. For your child. For yourself. Love always felt like a luxury you couldn’t afford.

But Sanji… he’s something else.

Not because he’s charming.

But because when it really mattered, he stayed.

And now, you let yourself fall a little deeper.

You stand. Walk over. And press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He goes still.

You pull back and say quietly, “Can't wait for the date.”

His eyes widen, then fill with something warm surprised, happy, maybe even a little nervous.

“You… really?” he asks, softer than you’ve ever heard him.

You nod “Don’t make me regret it.”

His laugh is breathless “Never.”

You smile, heart pounding, but you don’t let it show. He doesn’t need to know yet how much this means.

A few nights later for your first date Sanji goes all out, but not in a flashy way. It’s thoughtful. Intimate.

He sets up dinner on the ship’s deck. Small candles, soft music from a den den mushi radio, and a view of the sea under stars. He cooks something warm and comforting, not fancy, just full of love.

You talk for hours. About silly things, quiet things, your pasts and dreams. It’s easy. He listens more than he speaks, and when he does talk, it’s gentle.

No cheesy lines. Just Sanji. Real and warm.

After dessert, he walks you home in silence. Not awkward, just peaceful. The kind of quiet where you don’t need to fill space.

At your door, he looks at you with hopeful eyes but doesn’t move in. He’s waiting for your choice.

So you step closer.

You kiss him.

Soft. Sure. Just once. But it’s full of everything you’ve been holding back.

When you pull away, he blinks like he’s just been hit by a wave.

You smirk “You were taking too long.”

He laughs, dizzy and full of stars.

And for the first time in a long while, so do you.

── .✦ Ace:

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Angst, Humor, Emotional Reveal, Mutual Feelings Hidden, Teasing to Serious, Marine Conflict

The sun burns above you. You’re lying on the deck of your ship, one leg over the other, a half-empty bottle between your fingers. Ace is beside you shirtless, grinning, sweat on his brow, flame flickering off his fingers like it’s breathing with him.

“You always steal my rum.” you say, kicking him lightly.

“You always keep it warm,” he shoots back “I’m doing you a favor.”

You roll your eyes “Your idea of favors sucks.”

He leans closer, his voice lazy and smug “You didn’t say that last night.”

You groan “Get a new line, fire boy.”

He grins wider. You punch his arm. He fake-winces, like it hurt. It didn’t.

That’s the two of you: teasing, biting, half-fighting, half-kissing. No promises. No labels. Just good fun and bad timing.

Pirate life is rough. You take what joy you can.

“Hey,” you say after a long silence, watching the sky “Wanna hear a secret?”

Ace smirks, eyes still closed “If it’s about that thing you did in the galley with the honey—”

“No, dumbass. A real secret.”

That makes him open his eyes. He turns to look at you “Alright. Hit me.”

You sit up. Serious now. The bottle rests on your knee.

“I have a son.”

Ace snorts “You what?”

You nod, eyes still on the horizon “Yeah. He’s five. His name’s Ren.”

He blinks. You go on before he can interrupt.

“I had him before all this, before the piracy, before you. I got caught in something messy with the Marines. To keep him safe, I left him with my parents. Changed my name. Ran.”

Ace stares.

You keep talking “I go see him when I can. Disguised. Just for a day or two. He thinks I’m some traveling doctor or something. He doesn’t know who I really am.”

You pause. Swallow.

“It’s hell, leaving every time. But I’d rather he grow up safe than have him hunted.”

Ace starts laughing.

You blink “What the hell?”

He’s full-on laughing “Holy shit, you got me! I thought you were serious. What is this, some new kink? Roleplay? Mommy pirate stuff?”

You just look at him.

Dead quiet.

No grin. No tease.

Ace’s smile dies instantly. The flame on his fingers goes out.

“…Wait,” he says “You’re not joking?”

You don’t say anything.

His expression changes fast… shocked, confused, then something close to guilt “You really…?”

You nod once “I’m not playing around.”

He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly tense “Shit.”

“Yeah,” you say, dry “That’s usually the first response.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries again “Why are you telling me this now?”

You shrug “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re the closest thing I’ve had to a real connection in years. Or maybe I just got tired of lying all the time.”

He stares at you.

You look away “I didn’t expect you to laugh. That sucked.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.”

“No,” he says quickly “I’m serious. That was a shitty reaction. I just… I didn’t think you were the kind of person to hide something that big.”

You exhale “Turns out, I’m full of surprises.”

The silence between you is heavy now. Not like before.

Then Ace says quietly, “What’s he like?”

You blink “Huh?”

“Your kid. Ren. What’s he like?”

You smile a little “Stubborn. Smart. Messy. Loves drawing fishes. Hates carrots. Thinks I have the coolest boots in the world.”

Ace nods, quiet. He looks down, then up at you again.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs “I’m sorry for laughing. And I’m… kinda honored you told me.”

You raise a brow “Didn’t peg you for the emotional type.”

He shrugs, eyes soft “Didn’t peg you for someone with a child.”

Touché.

Ace doesn’t talk much for the next few days.

No flirting. No teasing. Just quiet looks when he thinks you’re not watching.

You try to act normal with some old jokes, same smug grin as always, but you feel it too. Everything changed with that one secret. The space between you now holds more than just fun.

It holds truth. Real, heavy, warm truth.

You’re standing at the helm when he walks up beside you.

“I want to come.” he says.

You glance at him “Come where?”

“When you go see your son.”

Your hands tighten on the wheel “Ace—”

“I’ll stay out of sight. I swear. I just… want to see him. I want to understand what you gave up. What you’re protecting.”

You study him for a moment. His eyes don’t waver. There’s no joke. No smirk.

Just Ace. Real. Honest.

You nod.

Months later — The island is quiet. A small village with stone houses, chickens in the streets, a little bakery that still smells like your childhood.

You pull your hood low. Ace wears a cap, sunglasses... he looks ridiculous, but no one’s looking at him. Just another traveler.

Your parents’ house is at the end of the road. Garden full of wildflowers. Paint peeling on the fence.

Your son is playing outside.

He doesn’t see you at first. He’s chasing butterflies. Laughing. Barefoot.

Ace stops walking.

“That’s him?” he asks, voice rough.

You nod “Ren.”

Ace just stares. His hands slowly curl into fists.

You call out softly, “Ren?”

The boy turns. His face lights up.

He runs to you screaming. You drop to your knees and catch him in your arms. He’s warm. Real. Solid.

Ace looks away.

Inside, your parents keep things short. They know who Ace is. You warned them. They’re not happy, but they trust you.

You all sit outside. Ren sits on Ace’s lap by accident. You try to grab him, but Ace just holds him steady.

“It’s okay,” he says “He’s light.”

Ren shows him a toy ship made of sticks “I made this!”

Ace chuckles “Really? That’s better than some ships I’ve sailed on.”

You stare.

Ren grins proudly “My parent used to tell me stories. About pirates and fire powers. Did you know there’s a pirate who can set his fists on fire?”

Ace raises a brow “Sounds dangerous.”

Ren gasps “But so cool!”

You laugh softly. Ace sends you a small look. It’s gentle. A little sad.

Later, when Ren naps, you and Ace sit on the back porch.

“He’s amazing.” Ace says.

“I know.”

“You’re amazing,” he adds “You left this. For his safety.”

You stare at the grass “I think about quitting all the time. Just staying here. Being at his side full time. But… the world’s not kind. And if they find me—”

“I get it,” he cuts in “You’re doing what you have to.”

You glance at him “I didn’t expect you to care so much.”

He shrugs “Neither did I.”

Then he adds, “But now I can’t stop.”

Your heart stumbles.

“He’s got your eyes.” Ace says softly.

“Don’t get attached.” you warn “This life… it’s dangerous.”

“So is mine,” he says “But that didn’t stop you from letting me in.”

You look at him. Really look.

“I didn’t plan for this...” you whisper.

“Neither did I.”

But here you both are.

And suddenly, fun doesn’t feel like the right word anymore.

The sound of quiet laughter wakes you.

You blink against the morning light, still groggy, still warm under the blanket. It takes a second to remember where you are... your parents’ house, back in your old bed.

And then you hear it again.

Ren’s voice.

And Ace’s.

You sit up, heart skipping.

You slip out of bed, still barefoot, and pad toward the living room. And there they are.

Ren sits cross-legged on the floor, his little wooden ship in one hand, while Ace sits across from him, mimicking an enemy pirate voice.

“Noooo! You got me again, Captain Ren! My ship is sinking!”

Ren giggles and throws a pillow at him “That’s what you get, bad guy!”

Ace dramatically falls back, hands in the air “Ughhh… defeated by the mightiest pirate on the seas…”

Your heart squeezes.

Ace looks so natural. Hair messy. Eyes full of warmth. Like he belongs here.

But then your parents come in.

They freeze when they see the scene.

Ace doesn’t notice at first, he’s laughing with Ren, his smile unguarded.

“Ren.” your mother says, sharply.

Your son turns.

“Come away from him,” your father says quickly, stepping forward “Now.”

Ace blinks, confused “I—”

“Ren,” your mother repeats “Come here.”

Ren looks at you, unsure.

You step in “What’s going on?”

Your father’s jaw tightens “We don’t want him near the child.”

You stare “Excuse me?”

“He’s a pirate,” your mother hisses “A famous one. Fire Fist. He’s dangerous.”

“He’s also sitting on the floor playing ships...” you snap.

Your parents say nothing.

“You trusted me enough to come here with him,” you continue, voice rising “Now you’re trying to pull Ren away like he’s some kind of monster?”

“We’re protecting our grandson.” your father says coldly.

“From what? A man who’s been nothing but kind to him?”

“You don’t know what kind of life he brings.”

“I do,” you shout “I live it too. If you forgot. And yes, it’s dangerous. Yes, it’s hard. But Ace has done nothing but respect my family, protect me, and treat Ren with more care than anyone ever has!”

They go silent.

You’re shaking now, fists clenched.

“And for your information, I love him.”

The words fall like a hammer in the room.

Ren blinks.

Your parents’ eyes widen.

Ace just stares at you.

You don’t move.

You didn’t mean to say it... not like this, not loud, not angry... but it’s out.

And real.

You look at Ace, heart thundering “I love you.”

A beat.

Then Ace stands slowly, eyes locked on yours. He walks to you, quiet. The room holds its breath.

He stops in front of you.

“I wasn’t sure if I should say it first,” he says, voice low “Didn’t want to scare you off. But you beat me to it.”

You blink.

“I love you too.” he says.

He reaches out, gentle, and takes your hand.

Your parents stay silent. Ren looks between the two of you, then claps once like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Can I have pancakes now?” he asks.

You and Ace laugh at the same time, breathless.

And just like that, the tension cracks.

── .✦ Nico Robin:

Tags: Established Relationship, Soft Confession, Emotional Intimacy, Bittersweet Past

It’s late.

Most of the crew has gone to bed, except you and Robin. You're both in the library room. She’s reading. You’re not. You're just holding the edge of a piece of paper... frayed, uneven, and pulsing with life.

A vivre card.

You don’t have to look at it to know it’s still there. Still pointing somewhere far away, where you can’t be.

Robin closes her book softly “Is that what’s been on your mind all day?”

You glance over.

Of course she noticed.

You nod “Yeah.”

She tilts her head slightly “Can I ask who it’s for?”

You hesitate.

You’ve never told her. Not because you didn’t trust her, but because it always felt like a story that belonged to a different version of you. The you from before the sea. Before the Straw Hats. Before her.

But she’s already part of everything now.

So you answer.

“My son.”

Robin says nothing but her gaze sharpens. Attentive. Careful.

“He’s with his other parent now,” you continue, voice quiet “I raised him alone before I joined the crew. He’s the one who said it was okay. Actually, we were always together, in another small crew. Then he wanted a different kind of life. One with… peace. So we contacted his other parent.”

Robin nods, slow “He sounds mature.”

“He was always like that. Smarter than me, I think.”

There’s a short silence.

You look at the vivre card “I haven’t seen him since I joined. We talk through letters, sometimes den den mushi. But I don’t know when I’ll be able to see him again.”

Robin’s eyes soften “Do the others know?”

You shake your head “No. Just you.”

She reaches out. Her fingers brush yours, just enough to touch the vivre card “Thank you for trusting me.”

You smile, small but real “I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to see me differently.”

Robin hums “I already see you. Clearly.”

You blink.

She looks at you steady and kind “You carry something heavy. And still laugh with the crew. Still help cook. Still stand beside me in battle. That’s not weakness.”

Your chest aches in the best way.

She pauses, then adds, “If one day… you want to try and see him again, I’d go with you.”

Your voice catches “Really?”

She nods “Of course. I’d like to meet him. He sounds like someone I’d admire.”

You look down at the vivre card.

Still warm. Still burning.

Maybe not as far away as it feels.

It’s just past dinner.

You’re with Robin as she asked you to stay close. A soft excuse about helping her with some documents. You're both sitting on the floor, back against the wall, a soft lamp between you.

You have the vivre card on the table. You don't always keep it out, but tonight you felt the need to hold it.

You glance at the Den Den Mushi nearby.

You hesitate.

Then pick it up and dial a number you’ve had memorized since your hands first held his.

The snail blinks sleepily… then perks up.

“Hello?”

Your chest tightens at the voice.

You smile “Hey, kiddo.”

A pause, then, “IT’S YOU!!”

You laugh, caught off guard by the pure excitement.

“Oh my god—FINALLY! You didn’t forget me, right? You didn’t sail into a storm and disappear forever, right?”

Robin lifts an amused brow, watching you with quiet interest.

“I didn’t forget you,” you say softly “You know that.”

“Just making sure. I’ve been drawing so many sea monsters lately you would not believe. I made a kraken with three hats.”

You laugh again, voice cracking slightly “Three hats? He must be important.”

“Very.” He pauses, then adds, “...I missed you.”

You shut your eyes “I missed you too.”

Robin looks away respectfully, but stays close.

Then, from the snail: “Hey, wait—who’s near you? Are you with someone?”

You glance at Robin, who blinks, caught.

“She’s... a friend.” you say carefully.

Robin speaks, her voice soft “I hope I’m more than just a friend.”

The Den Den Mushi mimics a shocked face.

“...OH MY GOD. IS THIS YOUR GIRLFRIEND??”

You bury your face in your hand.

Robin chuckles lightly, graceful even when embarrassed “Hello. I’m Robin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

There’s a long pause.

“...You sound really cool.”

Robin smiles “Thank you. So do you.”

“Wait—how much do you know about them? Like... do you know about the time they tried to cook without instructions and set the wall on fire?”

You groan “Don’t tell her that.”

“It was a microwave! The noodles caught on fire!”

Robin’s shoulders shake with laughter.

You shoot her a glare that holds no heat “I regret this entire call.”

“No you don’t.”

And he’s right. You don’t.

Not even a little.

Later, when the call ends, you sit in silence.

Robin’s hand reaches for yours “He’s amazing.”

You nod, voice soft “Yeah. He really is.”

She squeezes your hand gently “He has your spark. And your chaos.”

You smile through the ache in your chest “He’s better than I’ll ever be.”

Robin rests her head against your shoulder.

“You’ll see him again. When the time is right. And I'll be with you... if you want me.”

"Of course I do."

And somehow, with her beside you, that feels like a promise you can believe in.

[cherie-doll]

Think about CoD guys getting knocked out on the battlefield and when they wake up, the medic they have a crush on is carrying them out of the field back to the chopper. Perhaps princess style

Does it make sense? No. Is it safe? Also no. But it is funny

bet you medic searched up and read "how to carry a girl: the most romantic methods" on wikihow and decided to use it on the battlefield

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

COD Men Getting Carried Princess Style

:‹ Last thing Price remembered doing was reporting his status over radio before hearing the panicked voices of Laswell and the others. He knew he was in good hands with his teammates but he didn't expect to see your face when he woke up. He also did not expect you to be carrying him, and he hadn't even realized until he was finally able to tear his eyes away from your face and see your arms and hands around his body. He doesn't know whether to thank or curse Laswell for sending you out to pick him up.

:‹ Simon waking up in a state of confusion. Because no one has been able to carry him with this much ease, especially not in this princess style. Usually he gets the rough treatment of getting thrown over a shoulder and that's it. But you're even careful to make sure he's not being rocked too hard while you're holding him. He's far too dazed to say or do anything much so he just lets it happen. Doesn't say or ask anything as you rush to treat him, knowing you'll be too focused. Won't talk or bring it up. ever. You're both taking this to the grave.

:‹ For Johnny it's heaven, just don't let the others see him getting carried out like this it'll wound his pride. He'll be bragging about it later like: "Oh you got treated by [medic]? Ha, well I got-" and he pauses there because suddenly his face has gone red and he doesn't know if it's worth sacrificing his pride and dignity just to rub it in someone else's face that he got carried by THE hot medic everyone likes so therefore he's winning in life but at what cost??

:‹ Kyle going "funny seeing you here" as if he had casually run into you at the grocery store and not in the middle of the battlefield. This guy is trying to flirt with you and have some casual conversation while you're trying to keep his wounds from gushing blood out. You don't know whether he's already losing his mind from the injuries he got or if he's trying to distract himself from the pain because this isn't like him. But maybe him being on the verge of going out again makes him say weird things. He won't remember this after medication.

:‹ Roach passing out thinking they're gonna forget him and accidentally leave him out here without receiving medical assistance until he wakes up and it's like an angel (you) has come to save him. He's impressed that you're not letting any obstacles stop you from running at a full sprint to the chopper with him in your arms. He's even going to bring it together by wrapping his arms around your neck to make sure he doesn't fall and staying still. Honestly, he liked it a little too much, so watch out or smth idk.

:‹ Alejandro getting a jump scare when he sees you carrying him. This was the last place he expected to see you. He absolutely hates getting any kind of coddling done, especially not in front of others. Even if you try telling him that no one even noticed you carrying him out like a knight protecting their princess because everyone else was busy fighting for their survival but he won't have any of it. Would demand you put him down right then and there in the bare dirt but you simply roll your eyes and ignore him.

:‹ Rodolfo being carried like the princess he is isn't a want it's a NEED. Had he been awake and conscious when you ran out to get him, he would have tried convincing you to leave him for his safety. He'd rather have waited for another teammate to reach him rather than you endanger yourself dodging bullets just to get to him. Even when he was knocked out did he look peaceful. He'd probably just be confused as to why you're carrying him but wouldn't protest or try to get out of your arms until you set him down.

:‹ Phillip knew he could always count on his Shadows to save his hide when shit happened. And he knew the attractive medic back at the base would be more than willing to treat him. He couldn't wait to see that face of yours when he got back, oh the things he'd tell you about his latest operation (the little information he could reveal). But he wasn't expecting to wake up so close to you, or at least not like this, when he's all battered, rugged and bruised. He can already picture his Shadows snickering if they ever saw him like this and he's really hoping they're busy with their tasks instead. It's strange to you how quiet he's gotten all of a sudden until you set him down and AFTER he ensures its only the two of you he starts trying to flirt as you roll your eyes at him.

:‹ Makarov didn't think anyone would come and get him out of the mess he had created. There was so much debris and chaos around him that even he had a difficult time thinking about how to get out of this one. Just as his vision started to blur and fade away, he saw you walking towards him. He hadn't actually expected to need you to do your job as medic and treat his wounds, much less be carried as he was told later on. He isn't annoyed not even in the slightest and if anything is sort of 'touched'? that you carried him from the battlefield all bloody to the helicopter. He might have gotten an idea and request you continue doing this, but no way are you doing that again, you swear you must've pulled a muscle or something.

:‹ Keegan is cursing himself as he lies bleeding and hurt in a building that could collapse at any moment for letting his mind wander for one second and get distracted. Of course his mind just HAD to betray him and think of you just because he noticed how unusually pretty the sky was. So is it a coincidence that he wakes up to find himself in your arms? You feel his intense stare but you don't allow yourself to look down. Even as he feels rumbling around him, pain numbing his senses, and the ear-splitting sounds of war, he doesn't let it distract him enough to tear his eyes away from you and the untainted sky that served as a backdrop.

:‹ König's secret fantasy is being treated like a princess. You look at him and think a guy like him wants to be feared and demands respect. Actually, no. The only person he'd want attention from all the time if you. Not in the "I'm important pay attention to me" type of way but in a soft, intimate way in which only you would care for him. So he wakes up to the delusion of thinking you're using all your strength to carry him and he looks at you like you're his savior when in reality it's two other men helping you by supporting his legs and back.

:‹ Horangi would barely be conscious and assume its one of his teammates that is carrying him. He dislikes getting picked up by anyone other than König (despite the fact König hates going so) so he starts moving until he hears your sharp voice which jerks him awake. He thinks he must be dreaming but he couldn't mistake your voice or face for anyone else. Lowkey is into it, curls up in your arms thinking he's small enough to fit even though he's not and you're struggling. He even attempts to lay his head on your shoulder until you throw him onto a stretcher.

:‹ Nikto grunts as he feels himself getting picked up, but instead of that rough manhandling he usually gets from a fellow teammate he feels efficient hands quickly wrap around him, yet they feel so tender too. The way those hands don't pull or drag his limbs carelessly, he knows it might be delusional getting his hopes up already imagining who it could be. He decides to open his eyes and expects to be disappointed if it isn't the person he expects. But he's quite delighted to see it is you. You don't take the time to look down at him because you're too busy trying to hurry and make it back in one piece with the man in your arms to notice his lazy smile as he closes his eyes, assured you'll take good care of him.

[unsolicited-opinions]

I would be fascinated to know what the western leftist people think of Liberia.

(Actually, no I wouldn’t. I don’t need another headache.)

It might be funny to see them tie themselves in knots, though. Particularly the white Americans, the further they scroll through the Wikipedia entry for the first time.

Quick recap of the relevant history:

Liberia is a West African country founded in the 19th century by freed Black US slaves with support from the American Colonization Society. These settlers (called Americo-Liberians) established a society that in many ways replicated the racial hierarchies of the American South...but with themselves at the top.

They ruled over the indigenous African populations in ways that explicitly and deliberately mirrored colonial oppression, despite being formerly oppressed themselves...for 133 years.

Anon is pointing out that this history:

Involves Black Americans playing the role of colonizers and elite rulers...which doesn't fit neatly into common activist frameworks.

Complicates the oppressed/oppressor binary often used in Western leftist discourse.

Poses a challenge to simplistic narratives about colonialism, racism, and power.

However, Anon may be underestimating the ability and determination of some Western leftists to rationalize and cognitively distort in defense of their binary.

Here are some of the narrative-defending responses I'd anticipate from this crowd if they were faced with these facts:

"Well, obviously the Americo-Liberians had involuntarily internalized white supremacy." When in doubt, blame colonial trauma for literally everything...including becoming the colonizer.

"This just proves how toxic Western imperialism is - it even turns its victims into villains!" Even when oppressed people oppress others, they cannot be seen as having agency.

"Liberia was a CIA plot to discredit pan-Africanism!" They'll say this despite the fact that Liberia was founded in 1847...about a century before the CIA came into existence.

"We shouldn't focus on what Americo-Liberians did wrong - it's racist tone policing and distracts from Western colonial crimes!" Moral relativism kicks in whenever oppressed people do the oppressing.

"It's complicated, but Israel is still worse!" Their thought-terminating cliche for all purposes.

"Why are you even bringing this up!? Are you trying to undermine solidarity with Palestine?!" Any historical facts which don't serve the narrative is treated as an attack, treated with hostility

"The real issue is that white Americans forced Black people into the position of power. They were set up to fail!" Oppression is a pyramid scheme and everyone's a victim if you squint hard enough.

"Maybe the indigenous Liberians were reactionary anyway. Don't romanticize them." Yes, they might well pivot to defending settler-colonial behavior…as long as they don't regard the settlers as white/European.

_____

For those committed to viewing history through a sacred binary, considering Liberia is a horrifying theological heresy. It asks them to do something obscene and unthinkable:

_____

The example of Liberia makes it clear that having been oppressed doesn't automatically make anyone just...and that historical injustice doesn't absolve anyone from responsibility.

If that complicates your activism...?

Good.

Complexity isn't the enemy of justice, but false binaries are.

[rexhya]

thinking about dragon sukuna who hasn't seen a human like you in ages.

you're a highly qualified wildlife researcher who accidentally stumbled upon a tiny pink creature.

to be completely honest you're extremely excited and extremely scared, you think you've just discovered a new species, reptile like claws, scaly tail ending in fluffy feathers, and the most jarring of all, a human like face that peers at you with glass looking eyes.

the animal looks like a baby of whatever species it came from, so you back away, threes a high chance his or her mother is nearby and you don't want anything to do with what the full grown version of this may look like.

but the pinkish critter only follows you closer, and you realize this is your chance to get a photo, it doesn't seem hostile, maybe the species is docile?

"okay, you stay right there love, i just want a picture okay?"

the small dragon cocks it's head, "okay!"

you scream, your camera flying up and landing in a muddy puddle by a tree, the sound causing the animal to scream as well, suddenly in distress.

you looked like a nice dragon, albeit a bit funny looking without your tail and scales to protect you, but yuuji didn't judge!

maybe your egg had problems before you'd hatched, maybe your father wasn't strong enough to protect you and a slytherin poked a hole in the shell!

whatever the reason, yuuji wasn't one to jump to conclusions so when you'd screamed at the top of your lungs after asking for a picture, yuuji had thought something was wrong, he screamed as well.

and like clockwork, strong loud beats came swooping into the clearing.

you immediately ran the opposite direction, whatever the thing was, it most definitely wasn't going to be as friendly as whatever you'd just seen and even if it was, you weren't taking any chances.

unbeknownst to you, this idea was futile, sukuna catches up to you and you're pinned to the ground within seconds.

his appearance matched that of his sons, pink soft scales, claws that gripped your much smaller neck, a much longer tail that instead sprouted in spiky horns and what you couldn't see on yuuji before, 12 inch horns ( at least ) that curved back into a S shape, with barbaric teeth inside your mouth.

"please don't kill me, I didn't mean to scare him." you tried, tears forming in your eyes as the beast inspected you, and miraculously, released you.

"you speak, what were you doing with my son." sukuna was just as shocked as you were, most of the animals he caught trying to disturb his precious son were aggressive and were dealt with immediately. you on the other hand, could be reasoned with.

"I was just trying to get a picture, i didn't know he could talk, I didn't know you could talk, it just surprised me is all."

sukuna grunted and took a step forward, you flinched and tripped over a root, looking up from this position really gave you a sense of how tall this man-creature really was and it terrified you all the more.

"are you not dragon? why do you act surprised?" sukuna was confused now, you didn't exactly look like a dragon, your teeth were almost as dull as his child, but disability didn't excuse your intentions, whatever those may be.

"i'm, i'm a human." and yuuji who'd been left in the dust as sukuna addressed you, jaw dropped open, a nervous but excited look on his face.

sukuna wasted no time, "then it's settled, you must be killed now."

starr starr

you're glad sukuna's son was there that day, if not for his insistence to keep you alive you weren't sure if you would be able to even do this right now.

the king of dragons, was keeping his jaw open so you could check his teeth.

you'd become a sort of doctor around these parts, and was an unspoken rule that if there was a medical issue they couldn't solve themselves, you were the person to go to.

most of the time, the dragons just wanted to see who'd been able to charm the king into a quiet submission, other times to see if you could be charmed yourself.

"okay kuna, all done! there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you!"

and the king looks at you, a sort of dissatisfied look on his face.

the two of you stand there looking at each other for a moment.

"my," he clears his throat. "my scales have been aching lately, fix them for me." he demands it, but his eyes are turned, a tiny pink blush rooted on his face.

you blink and que him to sit back in the chair, "okay so what type of pain is it?"

"It's an aching pain. like bugs are crawling all over my skin."

you nod your head in concentration, snapping back you gloves on to rub the back of your hands on his warm skin.

it did feel...slightly prickly but nothing out of the ordinary ignoring the loud thrumming of blood you could feel from his forearms.

"well there doesnt seem to be anything wrong with you...you're symtoms are showing that your..nervous?"

sukuns had never been so surprised in his life, who knew such a being could read him so quickly, his tail swoshed out of the door withith seconds.

because he was more than just nervous, he was

[laikiirnodel]

Some humans love this. It's enrichment! They don't get bored at work and they get to perform. Even if their voice isn't great that day, they remember what it's *supposed* to sound like and that's enough for telepathy!

But then, sometimes, they get stuck. The record skips, they can't quite remember the ending, or the perhaps the beginning, and the bits they do know get played on repeat.

It was funny at first but. Not so much anymore. Everyone within range of thought now has the earworm.

They finally manage to ask about it out loud. "Does this happen often? How do you deal with it?"

"Ugh. Sometimes. There's no one solution, but we can try other things I guess. If I can't remember a piece, then listening to the song all the way through can help. If it's being triggered by an outside stimulus, then removing the stimulus might work. If all else fails, just playing other songs over it can help my attention shift... we don't try that first, though, because if it doesn't work then I have *both* songs stuck in my head and that can get... interesting..."

They try various methods. This time, it goes to the last. The crew takes turns playing songs back at the human. Songs they know the human already likes. Songs they may have never heard before. Like a cooperative live Jam. An on-call hive DJ. A giant, personalized mixtape, lovingly crafted by people who genuinely do want you to feel better.

It's ambient, mostly. No one individual has to think too hard about what comes next. If one person forgets a lyric, someone else shores it up.

The live-jukebox game doesn't go just one way anymore and (once the earworm finally leaves) the human is more than happy to play indefinitely.

If anyone gets bored of the rotation, they make up new lyrics, or mash together other songs into new creations. It becomes a running gift thread to find new albums for the human to expand their repertoire.

Telepathic aliens enjoy that humans will "play music" for hours at a time. When it's too mentally quiet on deck, they just announce the catchiest song titles they know and the humans will start thinking about it automatically.

The humans hate this so, so much.

Zorf: Human Steve, can you please play that song I like, the one with all the females

Steve: what

Zorf: A little bit of Monica in my life

Steve:

Steve: mother fu--

[archangeldyke-all]

Papa me want more movie (paramedic sevika) 😞

okay baby here comes the airplane vrooom

men and minors dni

sevika is very protective of her ambulance.

unless you're her patient and she's in the back to treat you, sevika's usually the one driving the rig to the hospital.

it's her baby. when she's not working, silco's the other paramedic driving it. the two of them are precious about the truck, like it's a living creature. they text each other updates during their shifts; if they filled it with gas, when the last stock up was, if the brakes have been sounding squeaky, stuff like that. like it's their baby they're co-parenting, or something.

before she met you, her phone lock screen was just a picture of the ambulance under a sunset. she's such a dork.

so you know sevika's lost her mind when she shows up to pick you up from work in the ambulance.

"sevika. what the fuck." you laugh as she leads you to the giant red truck. she giggles and shrugs.

"gotta take the old gal in to get her oil changed, figured i'd treat my girl to a spin around the block."

"and i'm i the old gal or the girl, in this situation?" you ask. sevika grins and pops open the passenger's side door for you.

it's surprisingly boring in the front seat. granted you've only ever ridden in the back under the influence of pain and drugs but you expected something a little more high tech than this.

"not even a gps?" you ask as sevika jumps in beside you, starting the rig up with a loud sputter from the engine. she snorts.

"what do i need a gps for? i've got the city streets memorized up here." she taps her forehead. "seatbelt." she demands.

god, she's sexy. that big brain of hers-- memorizing every street. you dart out of the passenger seat, ignoring sevika's squawks of protest to press a kiss to her cheek.

that shuts her up pretty quick. she's smiling all shy when you sit back down in your seat and pull on your seatbelt. you giggle, and she shoots you a glare.

"no funny buisness." she grunts. you giggle.

"then why's there a bed in the back?" you tease. sevika glares at you again.

"it's called a gurney, and silco will kill me if i'm late gettin' the rig to the shop."

"doesn't the department send you a replacement rig while yours is getting fixed?" you ask. she nods.

"yeah, but it's hard to find a truck as driveable and reliable as vivian."

"vivian!?" you cackle. "she's got a name?!"

"it was the sexiest name me and silco could come up with." sevika chuckles. "ran wanted it to be 'ruby' but that was way too obvious."

"you think the truck's sexy!?" you cackle. sevika glares at you again.

"baby. you better watch your tone. this is my rig you're talking about. she's been in my life much longer than you."

"oh my god, i can't believe i'm jealous of a truck right now."

"you don't need to be jealous, i'm not fucking the truck."

"you called it sexy!"

"when a vehicle this big can go from twenty to ninety miles an hour in ten seconds, stop on a dime, and carry as much life saving medicine as vivian does-- that's sexy!"

"you hit ninety?!" you screech. sevika cringes, knowing she's in the dog house now. you absolutely despise hearing about how she drives in this truck.

"no-- just-- hypothetically." she mutters, her eyes suspiciously glued to the road. you chuckle and reach over the center console-- where your favorite iced beverage is waiting for you beside sevika's pina colada slushie-- and grab her hand.

"vivian's... beautiful." you try, not sure what a proper compliment for a truck is. "she's a great ambulance. she drove you into my life. she's given me several rides to the hospital. she's protected you every day you work. i'm glad you have her in your life."

sevika smiles sweetly and drags your knuckles to her lips, kissing your hand sweetly. the action makes you feel all fuzzy and warm.

it's quiet for several moments as sevika eases to a stop at a red light, but when she's still she finally turns to study you. "what're you thinking about?"

"i don't think i've ever gone ninety before." you admit.

something about the lack of judgement in your voice has sevika cocking a curious eyebrow at you.

"do you... wanna feel it?" she asks with a mischevious smile.

you gulp. if there's one person in your life you trust to drive a truck going that fucking fast you suppose it's sevika.

sevika's smile is only growing as she watches your nervous excitement.

"we are running late to the rig shop. had to stop for our drinks before hand... we could flick the sirens on... get there on time?" sevika offers, goading you.

you groan and shake your head in shame. "uuugh. okay, fine, but--"

you're cut off by sevika blaring on the horn and flicking on the loud sirens. in front of you, cars merge to make a path for her, and before you can even find something to hold onto sevika's slamming on the gas and taking off.

you squeal. sevika giggles. she's got a bit of a show off smile, but mostly she's focused. on the dashboard, on the road, on the oncoming traffic-- making sure everyone's stopped for her, swerving around assholes who aren't. you realize that if sevika hadn't become a paramedic she could've found a lucrative career in formula 1 racing.

"this is only fifty, drama queen." sevika laughs. you flip her off from the passenger's seat. she hits a turn and you squeal-- and then she's on the freeway, and the city is speeding past you.

"we're so fast!" you giggle. sevika grins.

"soak it up babe, next exit is ours." she laughs.

for just one moment you let go of your fear and let yourself feel exhilarated. sevika's a loon, and she's the love of your life, and you're giggling like a dizzy kid as she speeds down the exit ramp.

"oh, shit!" you gasp as sevika comes to a hard, fast stop at the bottom of the hill, the tires squealing as you somehow manage to stop for the red light.

sevika flicks the sirens off, turns on her turn signal, then turns to grin at you. you cackle.

"you're insane. you do that all the fucking time, don't you?" you ask. she giggles and shrugs.

"i get paid like shit to get shat on all day, i gotta find my perks somewhere. vivian's pretty fuckin' cool, huh?"

you cackle and nod. "she's fucking awesome." you say, admiring sevika's proud little smile. but you're not talking about the truck at all.

taglist!

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taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @runawaybaby3 @vikasfemme @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@ferxanda @helaenabugmom @spookymomfriendtm @mzkaylalol @fruitsnpebbless

[hyacinthleaves]

Hcs with cam please? If thats okay. If not its cool

yeah sure. sorry in advance. also why am i being punished by having to pick decent banners for objects

Cam:

He has a strange love-hate relationship for showing physical affection at first

He'll act like its the corniest thing ever but then he's so quick to give you a hug when you feel like you need it. You can't be a tough guy forever, Cam

Mind you, when he gets past this, he becomes as annoying as possible sometimes. You're minding your business and he's ON YOU like GO AWAY WHY NOW

I feel like a hug from him would be almost perfect....just ignore the smell

Either he smells like straight ahh, nothing, or chemicals bro and this is YOUR fault. All depends on what you put in the trash before you put the dateviators on

And if you flinch or turn away he's actually making fun of you

In fact he's just making it worse. It reminds me of those tiktoks with where people are like "the way people who don't wear deodorant move"

deadass that's the type of confidence he would gain in that moment just to piss you off

I feel like he's so easy to get into an argument with even after you two get together

He has STRONG boundaries and half of the time he won't be willing to meet in the middle so you'll just have to deal with it

I mean if you're bothered enough THEN he'll back down and apologize but its hard to reach that point so you'' just be expected to get over some things

Besides 1 on 1 conflict, he is so helpful and sweet actually

I think the best aspect of this is that he's actually so nice to you because he finds it really funny that you get surprised by that stuff so he keeps doing it. Like its moreso for your reaction rather than him just doing it because he feels like he needs to.

Bruh I'm still laughing at that dumbass tiktok

He's not necessarily one of those people that likes to constantly talk about their partner but anyone can tell that he gets A LITTLE proud when you get brought up or he has to bring you up

And he acts like he's not flexing. He absolutely is. Cuz he bagged that. No pun intended.

Also can we talk about the names he calls the player? "Hey spicy" CAM LOOKALIKE CONTEST IN MY ROOM STAT

Anyway. He just has a certain charm to him. He knows that. This is exactly how you ended up here

[alllgator-blood]

My Kall has a gift

Also I just wanna say that I absolutly ADORE your work, each time you comment on any of my posts I go like "OMG???" because I consider you a popular cotl artist and kind of my inspiration for comics because you are COOKING each time. I get jumpscare in a positive way when you leave a comment, I just most of the time don't know how to answer 💔

Your work just scratches my brain because its so shapy and colorful, I just ADORE IT, I show your work sometimes to my friend which also loves your art-style

I'm probably repeating myself but like, you are awsome and make awsome sauce stuff, you yap so much on your posts and I like when someone yaps, espiecally because you yap good stuff

Alright that's all I wanted to say 😎 I expressed myself, now I'll dissapear

I FINISHED THIS THE DAY YOU SENT IT, I JUST DIDN'T GET A CHANCE TO POST IT I'M SORRY- It's so funny that you drew him specifically offering my kallamar a therapy book, because I have a near-finished comic for an ask about them actually going to therapy....it goes about as successfully as this interaction did

THIS IS SUCH A NICE ASK THOUGH- I'm happy to hear you get that excited when I comment, I very rarely comment on anything because tbh I am horrified of speaking unless I'm spoken to, but hearing that makes it feel a little easier to reach out more! THE POPULAR COTL ARTIST THING IS WILD THOUGH, I would not have thought of myself that way so it's definitely cool to hear- I think of myself as like...an oddball artist whose comics are an acquired taste lmaooo, I'll make what I make regardless of how many or how few people see it so I'm always just thankful people DO like my stuff!

I am also very honored my comics could inspire you, I remember when you were building up to your comic where heket joins the cult, I was spam-refreshing my dashboard every day to see if the new parts had dropped yet. I was even telling my sister about it as it was coming out (YOUR KALL IS HER FAVE BTW I show her your art sometimes, I think she even commented on the last crossover post) and we were trying to guess which sibling was dismembered in the bag :') I love bishop angst/horror stuff so I was just really hyped to see another artist who does comics about that kinda thing, and has a fuckin BALLER art style to go with it.

I'M RAMBLING BUT- I'm just really glad we're on the same wavelength when it comes to each other's art!! I love the hyper-stylization you utilize, the influences from media I've never even seen before because of the continent difference, and how you're always trying new things, just keep doing what you're doing and I'll be there to gaze from afar and periodically chime in :'))))

[bloody-noodle]

You know, the bestiality statistic has me absolutely fascinated because I got involved in an uncomfortable conversation with a seemingly porn obsessed, anime loving, incel misogyny podcast watching former childhood white dude friend. We were harmlessly browsing a toy company's website for toy figurines when we came across a few dog plastic figurines

and out of nowhere he goes "Oh hey look, something for you"

and I thought he meant it was because I was a life long animal lover, but no, this guy goes, completely unprompted "because you're a white woman, your species likes to fuck dogs right?"

How does one say something like that to another human being? How does your mind go there at all? Needless to say that weird and creepy comment was the last straw (he was weird and sexual with me before this too),

But seeing this statistic, that men are more likely to engage in beastiality, and yet this stereotype is used against white women specifically. How interesting.

But it got me thinking about how men actually view women. They don't see them as people, they see them as porn categories. Not individuals, but rather various acts of sex.

I don't think men can really view women in a non sexualized manner unless they really put the effort in.

Its why they treat women they deem unattractive with contempt, or that they like to pretend they do not exist. Because to them, she shouldn't

Its incel rhetoric at its finest, in an attempt to devalue the pussy they want so so badly. To turn the woman into the bitch they've always seen her as. Another one of their degradation fetishes. Maybe a coping mechanism for their own lack of desirability? Anyway.

Women are sexualized for absolutely everything, down to fucking pet ownership (look at the narrative men have pertaining to "horse girls" too, funny how we can only exist as stereotypes and categories, not as complex humans). This is how fucking broken their brains are currently.

Men's notions of women, the reality of women are an illusion informed by the pornography they've gone searching for (made for a male audience, female subject or no.) or fantasies they've had. They look down at any media regarding the actual humanity of women, disrespect it with one primary criticism "That's for women", not just media, anything associated with us really. (and people think pornography doesn't affect worldview, lol, piss off with that noise!)

My question is, where are all the derogatory stereotyping regarding men? In specific white men? Is it even possible for them to be degraded in such a way?

Also yes, being spoken to and sexualized in such a fucked up way by a childhood friend was painful. Like the fact that someone who I saw as a brother, his first thought about me was that...fucking speechless.

putting the information from the FBI, the UN and the Department of Defense into an infographic

More Statistics:

Sources:

[clairewritesfanfics]

civilian au: vtuber shiesty mark

I headcanon that Shiesty struggled financially growing up. Unlike the others, he didn't have access to a secure house and Debbie struggled to put food on the table. She juggled multiple jobs and her son getting labeled as a troublemaker at school and hanging out with the wrong crowd made it difficult to be the ideal mother.

Eventually, she died and Mark dropped out of school. He committed petty theft with his friends, but he never killed anyone and avoided physical altercations. He was the type of robbers who are all bark and no bite, which is still a bad thing but he didn't like hitting people.

He lived in a dingy apartment with barely any furniture. He kept it clean, but not neat. He also taught himself how to cook decent meals under 25 dollars because he got sick of eating instant noodles everyday.

At some point, Mark gets his hands on a gaming laptop. He always wanted one but Debbie couldn't afford any, but now he can finally play.

He started streaming for fun, just his voice. He didn't expect to blow up in popularity. He has a handsome voice plus he can be funny without trying so he has a lot of fans.

He uses most of his money on his friends and to get better gaming equipment, but he never intended to move to a better place. 

A lot of fans want him to do a face reveal but he's too shy, plus he knows that if his looks don't match their expectations they'll abandon him, so instead of showing his face he saves up and commissions for a really cool-looking Vtuber model. (I haven't decided what that would look like. You guys decide your own headcanons.)

He avoids drama and keeps a professional distance from everyone, fans and colleagues. He just wants to play, he isn't interested in dating, and if he were, he wasn't going to use his job to find a partner. All in all, he's a successful dude.

He can be toxic though in that he shares a lot of male players’ cozy games aren’t games mentality. He doesn’t go out of his way to bully others for calling themselves gamers for playing The Sims or Infinity Nikki, but you just know he’s one of those guys.

But then he meets you. (How? I’ll leave that to you.) Love happens and you become his first and only serious partner.

He starts branching out from his typical content (fighting, action, racing, shooting, RPGs–the so-called “serious” games) and tries cozy and casual games. 

He loses a portion of his original audience for this but he ends up attracting even more fans, especially since he gets so serious about the silliest things, like building the perfect house and decorating the best office for his partner’s in-game character.

He’s a puritan when it comes to gacha and discourages spending as much as he can. When he does pull for a new character or weapon or costume, he has you sit with him.

During streams you would knock softly on his office door (yes, you eventually moved in together) and if he can, he’ll pause his game and greet you. When you “interrupt” his streams it’s usually to give him a snack or drink. His viewers like to make bets about what’s on the menu because that’s how often you do it.

He always tells you his schedule so you know when he can’t open the door. During those times, you will knock to let him know and then leave the tray outside for when he gets a break.

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