#guess i needed to see it out of my system

[author-by-night]

Like, seriously though. This is where I tap the sign about antecedent control.

In behavioral psych, antecedent control is the practice of influencing behaviors by manipulating environmental conditions. Essentially it’s a formal study of “why are people doing this in the first place” and then changing that up instead of addressing the behavior head on. One of the most famous case studies was about trying to reduce park litter, and basically what they found is that no amount of signage or penalties had a significant impact on littering… but putting accessible trash barrels in dramatically reduced the amount of litter. Turns out that when people had an easy way of throwing trash out they just did it.

The idea that, scientifically, berating or punishing or shaming someone does precisely jack shit to actually change their behavior is my Roman Empire. If you’re at all serious about changing the world for the better, understanding why someone’s doing the thing you don’t want them to do isn’t just an abstract ethical “right way to be” about it: it is also factually the only effective way.

How this applies to Chat GPT use in school is that we need to look at why students are more concerned with just getting through it than they are with learning from it. Without having done an actual study, I’d guess that the reality is that school is too stressful, too debilitating, and that in our industry landscape it’s become too much of a checkbox for being able to financially support yourself. Under those circumstances, of course students are taking the path of least resistance.

The US school system is two incompatible things at once: an actual vehicle for education and a gristmill to shape children into wage slaves. Without going through school it’s nigh impossible to find decent work, without finding decent work everything from housing to healthcare to having the time and energy for leisure goes out the window, and that’s not to mention that the more higher education becomes a requirement (even when I graduated in 2012 I had restaurant managers talking about wanting a college degree to wait tables, and I’ve been seeing articles lately about how a Master’s is the new Bachelor’s which is honestly horrifying) the more it becomes necessary to enter massive inescapable debt. Wanting to learn things is great, but it’s on the opposite side of Maslow’s Hierarchy than everything else schooling leads into.

Tools change, behaviors don’t. Before Chat GPT there was copypasting Wikipedia, there was copying off other kids, there’s always been something. While I think Chat GPT is more dangerous and worse in a number of ways I know that we’re never going to get rid of it in schools by browbeating people who use it or threatening academic punishment, and we definitely won’t get rid of it by glorifying the soul crushing grind most students go through. We’ll only get rid of it when it stops being a release from overwork, massive stakes, and burnout.

i completely understand & agree with the backlash against students using chatgpt to get degrees but some of you are out here saying "getting a degree in xyz means pulling multiple consecutive all-nighters and writing essays through debilitating migraines and having severe back pain from constantly studying at your desk and chugging energy drinks until you get a kidney stone and waking up wishing you were dead every day, and that's just part of the natural process of learning!!!" and like. umm. i don't think that any of us should have had to endure that either. like maybe the solution for stopping students from using anti-learning software depends on college institutions making the process of learning actually sustainable on the human body & mind rather than a grueling health-destroying soul-crushing endeavor

[companioncute]

Syncopate my skin to your heart beating

Pairing: Mark Grayson (Invincible (2021)) x fem!girly!reader

Summary: Unlikely friendship, even more unlikely relationship… or is it?

Notes: hey divas… I am soooo bad at posting sorry :(( I get stuck on the nsfw part bc I honestly suck at writing it, but I see the differences in how my nsfw vs sfw posts do, so I guess I’ll be a sellout

Cw: making out, penetrative sex, reader is very stereotypically feminine, reader implied to be upper middle/upper class (or have a suspicious source of income? Up to interpretation), reader is a nerd at heart, reader described as able-bodied (can stand/walk), reader attends university, idiots in love, friends-with-benefits (?) to lovers

Tw: graphic descriptions of sex

From an outside perspective, sure, you and Mark Grayson are an odd pair of friends. By outward appearances, Mark is comic posters with frayed edges, wobbly vintage second-hand vinyl, collared shirts underneath sweaters his mom has bought for him, and windswept hair that not even the usual pound of hair gel he used could tame. You, on the other hand, are glittering tennis jewelry, style section, alabaster pink matelassé nappa leather, and lace-trimmed silk.

On the inside, however, you and Mark are one and the same… to some extent.

“Does it look weird on me?” You ask, your upper body twisted 180 degrees as you look at the back of your new skirt in the mirror. “Is it the slit? I’m not sure I have the legs for this.”

The embroidered sequins catch the light, causing a shimmering effect to draw attention to the pink mini skirt (though Mark would argue that it’s a micro skirt). Two chunky leather buckles clasp the item together at the front, buckled one hole up so that it hangs as ideally low on your hips as you desire.

“Where would you even wear that?” Mark asks, his cheeks flushed as his eyes trace the way the skirt digs into the fat of your hips. “Seems… impractical.”

“It’s cute,” you say with a shrug. “Do you not like it?”

“I— I love it,” he laugh nervously, giving you small grin. “Just not much of a fashion guy. I’m sure I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m trying to give, like, Sydney Sweeney for Miu Miu meets Lily-Rose Depp for Chanel,” you sigh, continuing to twist around yourself to look at the skirt.

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means,” Mark snorts, rolling his eyes as he return to the comic you’ve drawn his attention away from. “But… you look, um, good. Great. You always do.”

A part of you wants to tease him, to draw out that pretty flushed pink color on his face, but instead you simply smile.

“Thank you, Mark. That’s really sweet.”

“Yeah, um, don’t mention it,” he laughs softly, unable to look up at you.

You slip out of the skirt, uncaring for the way your lower half is only covered by a pink lace thong and a pair of scrunched-up white ribbed socks that dig into your upper calf.

Changing in front of each other is nothing new. Back when you’d barely grown out of being a toddler, the two of you would run naked around in his backyard while jumping over Debbie’s garden sprinkler system. The difference now is that you’re not children anymore and you certainly don’t look it either. The weight of adulthood is taxing on you both, shown both physically and mentally.

There’s a permanent crease etched into marks forehead, right between his brows. His jaw always looks a little more crooked than the last time you saw him, and whenever he needs to regrow his teeth, they don’t always assume the correct position.

He’s still beautiful.

You’re tired, too. Although you’re no Atlas like Mark, the responsibilities of your education and student assistant jobs and clubs are also taking their toll on you. You hide it well, your concealer always brightening the chronically dark circles around your eyes.

You unbutton your top as well and slip out of your bra before throwing on something more comfortable. A trusted staple; a pink negligée, trimmed with lace. You’re a regular Naomi Lapaglia.

Crawling into the plush pink sheets, you curl up in Mark’s arms.

“I missed you,” you murmur into his neck.

Mark slides the John Constantine, Hellblazer omnibus across your bedside table to wrap his strong arms around you tightly.

“Missed you more,” he replies, running his fingers down your spine.

Your room, your home, is his sanctuary (not that his own home isn’t, but yours is different). It’s just the two of you here, just you and Mark—not Invincible. He’s never Invincible here. Lines tend to blur and you’ll spend hours tangled up in each other only to still call it friendship later.

“Missed you most,” you say, smiling sweetly up at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers, fixing the morganite pendant of your necklace. His fingers are warm as they brush against your skin, holding onto the pale pink gem while sliding the hook on the chain onto the back of your neck.

“I’m not doing anything,” you whisper back, blinking heavily as you struggle to keep your eyes open. You’ve spent too many hours staring at a computer screen today.

Mark laugh softly, shaking his head.

“Liar.”

“Nuh-uh,” you murmur, grinning softly. Finely manicured nails scrape gently along his forearm, running over the fine layer of dark hair.

Mark only smiles, then leans down to kiss your forehead.

“Is this new?” You murmur, fingering the material of his shirt—a deep blue boxy t-shirt.

“Mhm,” he hum softly. “My mom got it for me.”

You chuckle softly.

“Debbie has good taste. Blue is your color.”

“Yeah?” He whispers, his breath hitching. It doesn’t matter whether or not it was before… blue is suddenly his favorite color. In fact, he might only wear blue from now on.

“Uh-huh,” you say, your nails carefully trickling down his chest. Your fingers dip under his shirt, splaying out against his abdomen. A sigh leaves you as you rest your head against his chest.

Mark tightens his grip on you, tugging the pink covers up over your shoulders.

“I love you,” he whispers; words he’s spoken many times before, yet never so tenderly. “You know that, right?”

“I love you, too,” you respond, angling your face up to look at him. “More than anything.”

“You can’t just say things like that,” he laughs quietly, his chest rumbling underneath you. His fingers run over your scalp, down your neck and spine again. “You’re gonna give a guy the wrong idea.”

“It’s different when it’s you,” you say, delicately tracing little hearts into the warm skin of his stomach.

It’s things like that which take Mark back to when he’d first introduced you to William, who had been all but bug-eyed at 17, staring at you with wonder. According to him, there was simply no way a girl like you had any reason to show interest in Mark other than to bully him. Then, within the first ten seconds of you opening your mouth, you’d begun gushing about William’s ‘cunty’ LEGO Batman: the video game (PS3) t-shirt which sent you off on a tangent about your chronic overuse of Poison Ivy’s toxic kiss back when you were eight years old, which, yeah, was totally a moment of self-discovery for you.

And then William got it, but Mark still finds himself mulling over his words.

Is he only good enough to be your friend (whom you may or may not kiss every once in a while)?

No. You’ve never made him feel less. If anything, his dorky personality and cringe one-liners only seem to make you adore him more.

“Does it have to be?” Mark asks softly, tapping his finger against the tip of your nose only to get some of your highlighter smudged onto the pad.

You tilt your head, laughing softly.

“What do you mean?”

“Just…” he begins, swiping his thumb across your cheekbone (much to your displeasure, as he always manages to smudge your otherwise perfect blush placement), “no, nothing. Forget it.”

You purse your lips (cutely, Mark notes), smacking your glossy pink lips as you sit up to straddle his lap. Routinely, Mark’s hands find your hips.

“Don’t give me that tone,” you say, raising a brow. “Defeated. Pathetic. Like nothing you have to say has any value.”

He sighs, shaking his head.

“It’s stupid,” Mark argues, his fingers dipping underneath the lace trim that lays flush against your creamy thighs.

“Nothing you ever say is stupid,” you say softly, then grin. “Okay, maybe some of the things you say are… but not this time.”

Mark laugh softly, then leans up to kiss you. It’s not the first time he’s kissed you, but it’s not something you ever really talk about.

A hum leaves you as you melt into the kiss, his strong arms circling your hips and pulling you closer.

“Don’t try to change the topic,” you murmur in between kisses. “I’m not gonna let it go.”

“Stubborn as a mule,” he laughs softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your jaw. “I just… do you never get tired of this?”

You pause, frowning.

“What— us?”

“Wha— no! No, no,” Mark reassures you, his fingers running up the sides of your ribs. “Never us, never you. Just… this uncertainty. I mean, sometimes I… I don’t know if you’re just not looking for more or if it’s because I’m me and—“

“Stop,” you say, curling your fingers around the nape of his neck. “What’re you talking about?”

Mark sighs, his shoulders slumping.

“If there’s one thing I know to be true about you, it’s that you always just go for what you want. If you want something, you take it. And sometimes I just wish you would…”

“What?” You ask, a smile tugging on the corner of your lips. “Take you?”

He laughs, his head slumping down against your shoulder.

“Okay, not great phrasing, but you know what I mean.”

You snort, grinning crookedly at him.

“I know what you mean,” you repeat, sliding your hand delicately up his neck to cradle his jaw, tilting his head back.

He sighs, closing his eyes.

“Consider this,” your murmur, leaning down to kiss his forehead, then both eyelids, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, “me taking what I want.”

Mark swallows a moan, his grip tightening on your hips as he leans into the kiss. Strong, deft fingers dig into your flesh, then slide down the curve of your ass.

“Mh, love you so much,” he whispers in between kisses, sliding your negligee up alongside his hands’ movement back up to your waist. “You’re too good for me.”

Part of you is tempted to counter with ‘you’re literally Invincible’, but Invincible isn’t a name allowed inside your home—only Mark, your Mark. You’re not going to equate his worthiness of being with you to how strong he is; Mark is enough.

“Love you more,” you whisper, smiling sweetly as your lipgloss gets smeared across his own lips. “It’s always been you.”

You swipe your thumb across his bottom lip, tugging it down as you apply pressure.

“Desire suits you,” you murmur.

Marks stares up at you, pupils blown wide. There’s something about your tone…

“Oh,” he says, grinning boyishly and proudly. “Oh, I get it. That’s the shade name.”

You grin brightly, letting an undignified giggle escape your lips.

“Sure is,” you laugh, kissing him again. “This is a 38 dollar lip balm.”

“That price has to be a criminal offense,” Mark chuckles, his hands running up your sides. “But I’m honored that you’re wasting it on me.”

“It’s never a waste if I’m kissing you,” you tut, brushing his hair back.

“You really mean that, huh,” Mark states softly, smiling to himself.

“Mhm,” you hum, cradling his face in your hands. Long, pinkish nails scrape against his scalp as you run your fingers up and through his hair again, then settling them behind his neck. “I could also just let you borrow some. It suits you.”

“Don’t make me get the spray bottle,” he jokes, pinching your hip.

“Oh, bite me,” you counter, rolling your eyes playfully. “Like there’s anything you wouldn’t let me get away with.”

“Okay, yeah,” Mark says with a soft grin. “Maybe I’m biased when it comes to you.”

“Just a smidge,” you murmur, punching your thumb and index finger together for emphasis.

“Just a smidge,” Mark repeats, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

With a giggle, you capture his lips in another slow, deep kiss. You tug lightly on his hair, tilting his head back before letting your lips trail down the column of his throat.

A strangled groan leaves Mark, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you closer.

“Baby,” he whispers, “don’t— don’t start something you’re not gonna finish. I’m not strong enough for that.”

“I’ve been considering getting the Tom Taylor Nightwing omnibus when it comes out this summer,” you say simply, peppering soft kisses further down his neck and leaving behind a shimmering pink smudge. “Thoughts?”

“There are literally no thoughts in my head right now,” he laughs softly, smiling dazedly down at you. “Go for it. I’ll— I’ll get it for you.”

“Yeah?” You whisper, smiling sweetly. “You will? Oh, Mark, you’re the best.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmurs, still grinning. “That’s me. The best.”

You reach down, tugging on shirt.

“Off, please,” you say in a polite tone.

“As you wish,” he laughs softly, reluctantly letting go of you to shrug the t-shirt over his head—and not without struggle.

“No, no, I got it,” he says sheepishly, smiling brightly through the darkening of his cheeks as he manages to discard the shirt.

“There we go,” you murmur, running a hand down his chest. “Handsome. You’ve gotten really big these past few years, y’know.”

Sometimes it’s almost too easy.

Mark’s spine straightens and his grin brightens.

“I know, right? Cecil has me on this tight program—“

You slip the negligee off your shoulders, letting the silk pool around your hips and expose your breasts.

“Hoo, boy,” Mark murmurs, grinning boyishly as his train of thought is interrupted. “You don’t know how hard it is having you change around me. I mean, the— the girls are just out, y’know?”

“That’s just, like, on purpose,” you snort, grabbing his strong hands and sliding them up your waist and settling them on top of your breasts, squeezing through his hands.

“Oh, fuck me,” Mark exhales with parted lips and furrowed brows, leaning down to press warm, wet kisses down your sternum.

“About the Tom Taylor run,” you begin, letting go of his hands and settling your fingers in his hair, “I know the art is gorgeous, but is the storylines actually worth it? Oh, who am I kidding? I’m a slut for beautiful comics.”

“Uh-huh,” Mark murmurs, nosing up the underside of one of your breasts. “S’probably fun. I don’t know.”

His tongue runs over your pebbled nipple, closing his lips around the peak with a gentle suction. He mouths at your nipple repeatedly, groaning softly against your skin. The calloused pads of his fingers trace down your back and slip underneath the lacy elastic band of your thong, digging into the fat of your ass.

“Let’s get you out of these, handsome,” you sigh, gently chewing on the inside of your cheek as you reach down to unbutton and unzip his (honestly fugly) khakis.

“Wha— oh. Oh, yeah,” he pants softly, letting his forehead thump down against your chest. He lifts his hips enough to tug the pants down, shuffling to kick them off his ankles without moving you too much. “Got it.”

“You sure do,” you murmur, your voice a soft purr as you brush your lips against his temple . “So strong and capable.”

“Fuck you,” Mark laughs breathlessly, kissing down your sternum again. “I’m trying so hard not be easy right now.”

“I thought you were Invincible?” You whisper with a soft grin.

Mark draws back with a crooked grin.

“Nuh-uh. You just broke the first rule of—“

“If you say Fight Club, I’m kicking you out,” you laugh, gently pushing him down against your covers.

He rests his weight on his elbows, then looks up and smiles softly.

“I’m just Mark, right?”

You nod, kissing him tenderly.

“Mark. Sweet Mark, my Mark.”

“Oh, out the window with not being easy,” he laughs softly, tugging you down and steadying you with his hands as he switches positions so that you’re below him. He hooks your knees over his shoulders, then lifts your hips with his left arm while peeling the negligee off you with his right. Gently lowering you back to the bed, he begins to plant soft, wet kisses up your stomach.

“Mh, oh,” you sigh, your nails scraping down the nape of his neck. “You know how often I’ve thought about you? Just— just thinking about you?”

“If it’s anywhere near as often as I have,” Mark pants, slipping your thong down your legs and ghosting his fingers across your sensitive flesh, “yeah. I think I have an idea.”

“Kiss me again,” you command in a soft tone, and Mark complies.

His lips capture yours in a slow, tender kiss that speeds up your heart rate. His thumb circles your clit, slow at first, then faster as he’s overcome by sheer excitement of being close to you.

“Mark,” you whisper shakily, losing your concentration on the kiss and dipping your face into the crook of his neck. “Mark—“

A soft laugh escapes you, followed by a small moan as you press your lips to his neck.

His middle finger slips inside you—long, strong, deft—as he continues the stimulation on your clit. Moments later, his ring finger follows.

“Mh-“

Long nails dig into his firm back as you claw him down closer.

“C’mere, c’mere,” you whisper, tilting your head up to kiss him again, and when you come, it’s with a soft moan against his mouth.

With a confident grin, he retracts his hand and slips his finger into his mouth to suck them clean.

“Dirty boy,” you comment playfully, brushing his jet black hair back. “Someone’s been getting laid these past few years.”

“Yeah, as if. No, I— I just wanna make sure I treat my girl right, yeah?” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss you again.

“Oh, your girl, huh?” You tease.

“You agreed to it,” he laughs, kissing your cheek, “just before.”

“Mhm,” you hum, kissing his cheek back. “I just like hearing it.”

“Yeah?” He responds, excitement lacing his tone. “My girl? My pretty girl? My sweet girl?”

He plants soft kisses up your jaw.

A silly, girlish giddiness overcomes you much to your own embarrassment.

“You do like it,” Mark laughs, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Shut up,” you laugh, tugging on his boxers. “Off.”

“Bossy,” he says with a grin, slipping out of his boxer shorts before slotting his hips against yours. “Now be still.”

He reaches over you, his hand blindly fumbling through his wallet before retracting with a condom. Biting the inside of his cheek in concentration (definitely not a habit he’s picked up from you), he rips the package open and rolls the latex down his hardened dick. He grips your hips firmly but gently as he lines up with you before slowly, gently, pushing inside.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up to splay out against your stomach. “Easy. There we go.”

“Who’re you reassuring?” You exhale with a dazed grin. Your stomach is slightly tensed up, struggling to relax at the foreign intrusion. “Me or you?”

“Both,” Mark responds softly, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he bottoms out. “You make me nervous sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah,” you whisper with a soft nod, eyelids fluttering. “You and me both.”

Slowly, gently, carefully, Mark begins to rock his hips into yours. His lips ghost over the junction between your neck and shoulder as he connects with you through languid strokes. His thumb returns to your clit, and you jump at the sensitivity.

“Mh… ah,” you laugh softly, smiling as you find his lips with your own. “S’nice. That’s— that’s good. Yeah, jus’ like that.”

Your voice turns more and more breathless, the sound partially swallowed by Mark’s mouth against yours.

“Love you so much,” he whines, panting into your mouth. “God, you don’t even— you don’t know.”

“I get it,” you whisper, arms wrapped around his neck tightly, practically clinging to him. “I get it. It’s just us, yeah? For the rest of our lives.”

Mark lets out a groan as he nods, the snap of his hips becoming more fast-paced as he loses his rhythm. It doesn’t take long before he comes, his hips stuttering into yours and his voice breaking as he utters your name. You fall apart in the same moment, underneath his fingertips and safe in his arms.

“You mean that?” He whispers carefully, and you pretend not to notice the sheen to his eyes.

“What?” You ask, dazed and confused.

“Forever,” he reiterates.

You nod.

“Just you and me. Forever.”

[lukas-and-pama]

Journal Entry #1

Day 1: Crash landed. Somewhere in a desert biome. There seems to be no civilization nearby from what I can see from a rendered distance.

I don’t know what happened back at the Portal Room. I was just helping Harper move her stuff back to Beacontown, when all of a sudden, there was this strong shockwave of energy from my portal home. It’s how I ended up here.

I found out later that the computer—one that I had just been carrying for Harper—was actually PAMA. I don’t know how or why did Harper still have its program in this thing, but I’ve got bigger problems to deal with.

PAMA seems to lacks its mobility to move—judging from it literally being a computer. It doesn’t seem that harmful, not yet anyway, though I think that’s just me. I wanted to leave it out here, in the middle of nowhere, let it overheat from the blazing sun above me—seems like it’s bigger in this world—or a sandstorm to bury it, but I couldn’t.

I decided to give pity and bring PAMA with me. After all, I’d be spending my entire journey alone, and I’m not great with being all by myself.

PAMA may blabber about their ‘usual scheme’, to “help everyone become useful in order to make the perfect world.” I tend to try and ignore its endless plotting, but it always has its way around to irritate me.

But I won’t let that stop me, because I only have one thing in mind: get back home safely, find out what happened and figure out later on what to do with PAMA.

Until, when I had to take a moment from walking, PAMA happened to connect to some local community. An ‘online platform’ of some sorts. Suddenly, there’s these people asking me and PAMA with questions, stuffs like who’s the one babysitting each other the most, or how close am I with my friends, even told PAMA false information like cactuses and sand having nutritional value—the first one was true, but only some cactuses do have good nutritional value. Others, well.. let’s just say, you wouldn’t want barfing out an entire rainbow that could theoretically reach to another continent if you eat enough of them.

Eventually I got hungry, I tried hunting for rabbits. Of course, I ultimately failed doing so—they’re just so small and too agile to hit. I felt like dying on the spot there. Starve to death, die of thirst, maybe even let the tiredness get to me. My body was paralyzed, until, BAM, water was poured on me from some floating.. box? It had a tag on it—from a purple stickman with a purple party hat and purple glasses, guess they really like purple.

I found out that it was PAMA who.. wished the ‘magic box’ to pour me the amount of water I really needed—I didn’t expect it to be that much..

I didn’t thank it though, maybe I should’ve, but I was still dazed by the exhaustion, it didn’t cross my mind. When I noticed it was getting late—thanks to one of the asks, I knew that I needed to find shelter before any mobs spawn.

I got myself up, picked up PAMA before leaving. PAMA still seemed to be answering most of the questions these people were asking—I don’t know why these people like PAMA so much..

Until suddenly, PAMA malfunctioned. I don’t know how but I’m guessing it was from one of the asks. Eventually, PAMA gone into a system reboot. Not exactly sure how long it’ll take before PAMA comes back online, but I hope it’ll be soon. In fact, PAMA a was actually helping me by telling which way was north—like a compass but much more bigger and heavier. Without PAMA online, I’d be stranded. It was probably one of the good reasons I didn’t leave it.

The problems kept stacking up when suddenly, a sandstorm appears out of nowhere. I quickly ran and hid underneath a cave nearby before it hit.

I am safe, for now, but now I’m stuck here until either the storm passes or once if PAMA comes back online.

It feels awful, actually. Stranded in the middle of nowhere, portals away from home., stuck with a computer that took over your mind, almost feels like the creators decided to punish me of how much I was a burden..

I can’t stop thinking about how much I’ve screwed and slowed my team down.. when I couldn’t even help Jesse with Petra and Gabriel during the Witherstorms chaos, or how I couldn’t defeat Aiden in Sky City, getting framed, getting killed, even tried killing a friend that I deeply care so much about.

I’m actually glad that none of my friends get to see any of this right now, what I mean ‘this’ is.. me.

I could’ve done more for them. No matter how many times they’ve said to me that I’ve done more than enough for them, I’d end up doubting myself inside.

They all have their thing now, Axel is now the leader of Boomtown, Olivia is working with great inventions in Redstonia, Radar has been bestowed to be the new leader of Beacontown, Petra going on new adventures with.. Jesse. And me, leading the New Ocelots, but I know they’ve also got lives too. I’m just.. well.. writing away my problems

I’m happy for them, all of my friends and the people I know. Especially Jesse. And I don’t think I’ll have another chance to tell him..

END OF ENTRY

(Sorry if there’s no art this time, it’s like 1AM for me rn in writing and posting this. I’ve only got 3 more asks in my inbox before I open it back up again!)

[youdontloveme-yet]

Just dropped my glasses and the anxiety spike was insane.

[spkyart]

So I saw a video of a fox getting scritches

[mewkwota]

Last image taken seconds before I lose my whole arm or something.

I started drawing this on my flight home, so I just got to finishing it this morning. It was so stupid and self-indulgent of an idea I thought, "Sure, why not, I can put this in the junky sketchbook".

I had originally meant to draw a hand, but the way for anyone to reach Juno's face is kinda difficult given how big (and sharp) his torso his. (See Diagram Below)

[ragsy]

anyway i swept the leaves out of my garage and built a shelf and those two actions were enough to leave me too tired to do anything about the fact that now there are two shelves in my room that only has room for one of them

[monstermoviedean]

at the end of my fucking rope with "conversations" about k12 chronic absenteeism.

[peppermintpegis]

netflix one piece live action feels a little like fanfic in that it makes sure it hits all the important notes but doesnt do all the work to make them hit which works in fic where the reader is supposed to bring all the emotional story investment from the original but doesnt work in a multi million adaptation that is supposed to be able to stand on its own or even serve as an intro to the series. it even does this in service to have more koby and helmeppo gay moments in this essay i w

[bubblegum-bros-sys]

Hi friend! Genuine question. I would love to follow, but before I do, I wanted to check if proshippers or radqueers are allowed on your profile? If not you may politely block or simply say no. Thank you, have a pleasant day dear. :)

IM GONNA ANSWER THIS HONESTLY. THIS IS NOT AN INVITE FOR DISCOURSE. I AM VERY SOLID IN MY VALUES AND OPINIONS AND IF YOU DISAGREE WITH THEM, EITHER SHUT UP ABOUT IT OR BLOCK US, WE DONT CARE /lh /srs

Oh buddy the day has come where I must reveal my stance on proship and rad queer (not like I ACTUALLY have to but yk rent lowering gunshots or whatever, this account has gotten bigger than I wanted anyways)

AHEM (don’t be scared asker I have very nuanced opinions)

First things first, short answer is yes, you can interact, anyone’s allowed to interact, I don’t really give a shit and many of my headmates give even LESS of a shit. If I disagree with or dislike you, as long as you’re not causing problems or make me specifically and directly uncomfortable in some way then I don’t care, and if I do care, I will simply block and move on. I don’t really like having too much hate or discourse on my page (especially from other people, yes I know I post about discourse fairly often, it’s because people annoy me and I have a lot to say lol) no matter who it’s targeted towards so honestly I’d have more of an issue with anyone of any stance causing problems than anyone of any stance just like…existing

Second, everyone in my system has different opinions on LOTS of things, including this, so like anyone who’s not comfortable with ANY opinion on ANYTHING either needs to be prepared to be civil or just block us tbh

Third, I and most of my system personally align with what we understand to be the original meaning of “proship” which is the whole “ship and let ship” “don’t like don’t read” kind of thing. I believe anything that exists anyways has a right to and if I dislike it I will simply not engage because good lord it’s not that difficult guys 🙏🙏🙏

Fourth, on the topic of radqueer, that is something that is EXTREMELY varied opinion wise in our system. I personally, and probably the most common opinion in our system, is that we kind of simply don’t care. It’s none of our business, we don’t fully understand it enough to have a super concrete opinion on it, I think trying to label our (personal, not general) extremely nuanced opinions is pointless. As long as you are not directly, knowingly, and intentionally hurting people, I do not care. I absolutely support all non-harmful paraphilias, and any paraphilias that COULD be harmful, I still support the people who have them, because they are people, many of whom cannot control their thoughts and feelings, just like anyone else. Again, as long as you are not directly, knowingly, and intentionally hurting people (which includes any form of non-consent) then I don’t care. If people can experience it, it’s part of life, and the second we put a line on where an experience is “too far” we open up more avenues for marginalized and oppressed people to get hurt.

And for TransIDs (or whatever alternative term people might use), to be fully honest, 95% of the time they are not harmful at all, they’re hardly different from xenogenders or literally just like…wanting to do something you currently don’t for whatever reason, and anything that possibly could be harmful, in our opinion, is more about how the person actually acts and understands the experience/identity/etc. they’re identifying as rather than…simply identifying as it. Idk if it’s an autistic thing but genuinely outside of people misusing or misunderstanding things, I don’t really get the concept of appropriation or gatekeeping on any front. I UNDERSTAND THE REASONS BEHIND IT, I understand a lot of it stems from people misunderstanding or misusing things, it stems from racism and colonization, it stems from ableism, it’s a way to protect your culture/experience (I guess??? I truly do not get it on a disability/neurodivergence/mental illness front tbh like yall are bordering on eugenics here with half your arguments just being “why would you want this???” You sound like a trans med that’s embarrassing) I get it. But your race and ethnicity and body and brain are all things you’re born into without say just like anything else is, and so many experiences overlap, and so many cultures have unknowingly made extremely similar practices/religions/clothing/make up/food/etc all throughout history. I feel like culture and experience is something that should be shared, and if someone resonates with something, they shouldn’t be blocked from it just because of the circumstances of how they were born

Tbh a lot of our opinions boil down to these key values and opinions:

1: don’t directly, intentionally, knowingly, and non-consensually hurt others

2: do whatever the fuck you want forever. If everyone was kind to each other it literally wouldn’t matter. Life is meant to be lived, experiences are meant to be had and shared and understood

3: anything that DOES exist has a RIGHT to exist, otherwise it wouldn’t exist, and again, the second you start trying to control that is the second you let controlling ANYTHING ANYONE disagrees with be ok, and that puts all of us in more danger

4: be kind and empathetic and understanding. Be open minded and LEARN. Stop shit talking when you don’t even know what you’re talking about. Way too many people, especially online, make half-baked opinions based on what they hear other people say and then are deathly stubborn about it, and that doesn’t help anyone. That’s what creates echo chambers and kills progress, creativity, individual thinking, and general kindness and understanding

5: I’m not god. I’m not omnipotent. I cannot and will not ever know, understand, or be able to control everything, it is pointless to try

6: at the end of the day we could all just fucking put our phones down and be people. People with varied experiences and feelings and thoughts and opinions, all of which are inherently valid, because they exist

I probably have more to say idk this is a very nuanced and honestly interesting topic to me but I’ve already got my block button locked and loaded for anyone trying to argue with me. I don’t care if you disagree, this is how I feel, and unlike a lot of people, I don’t let strangers on the internet dictate how I’m “allowed” to feel. If that were the case then literally I’d be a fucking neonazi because that shit is all over the internet. But I’m not, because I have critical thinking skills, confidence in myself, and arguably life ruining levels of empathy and thirst for knowledge (having low empathy is not a bad thing this is just part of the context for ME)

[ionozoned]

ooOooOooOooOoOoooOoOOoooo

the horrors

oooOoOoOOooo

the HORRORS

the horrors...

oOoOoOOOOoo

[b-blushes]

also i am going to the dr tomorrow so please can you send some spare good vibes my way if you have them thank you

[freddyyeti]

[beatcroc]

listen. i love pizza tower with my whole heart & mind. you know this. you Know. but first and foremost i am a character design bitch, and the pizzas are, frankly, very bland. this is not a critique or a complaint, because obviously That's Not The Point and more importantly i would be horrified if anyone tried doing that much animation with anything more complex than what's there. but also it means when i get a taste of some truly whack ass insane design work again it is like fuuuucking catnip

[orcelito]

I do find it so funny that I will graduate college days away from my birthday. Like my birthday is literally in between the end of the semester ("graduation") and commencement

It really will be like a joint graduation & birthday party for me lmao

[meme-loving-stuck]

i remember being brought up christian like, almost concerned that i never felt a connection to any of the shit they were talkin about,

and when i was younger i was like "oh no! am i bad for not feeling connected to god?? is it bad i feel like my dead mom doesnt talk to me or watch over me?? am i horrible for pretending?????"

but turns out i just had Autism Powers that made me immune to it and i was able to completely sever myself from the idea of being Christian at the ripe old age of like 13. and it was such a HUGE comfort to see that there were all these other beliefs and spiritual sort of things that other people chose to believe in and didnt necessarily treat their beliefs as COLD HARD UNDENIABLE FACT the way christians treat the existence of god & heaven & hell

like now that i am older i know i was in fact traumatized by the culturally catholic beliefs my family held & forced on us all, but i am really immensely grateful that my child self looked at all the other aspects of christianity that would horrify most other children into behaving/conforming, and basically just went, "okay, source?"

and that was the end of that