#since there's more tools at our disposal

[visixv]

A small reminder that you don’t have to put a disclaimer or say where you got refs for whatever drawing or artpiece you’ve done.

Don’t play by the rules set by a nobody who thought they were in the right when they were not.

You don’t owe anything to anybody.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Cash Slave, reporting in...

Good morning, master. State Trooper Hernandez reporting!

I hope you're doing well since the last time we saw each other. Again, I can't apologize enough for pulling you over on the highway. I had no idea you were such an amazing hypnotist. Thank you again for letting me get off easy and only making me taze myself twice! I was paralyzed in that muddy ditch for awhile, but you could've given me a helluva worse punishment!

Your instructions aren't negotiable, so I made sure to snap a photo before I started my shift today. As you suggested, I've been eating a box of donuts every morning, and I've packed on a hefty 30 lbs since I've started. My wife has complained, but I know you want me to look more like a cliche of law enforcement!

I'll stop by your house to drop off my paycheck tonight after work. I won't forget to pick up some pizza for you and your friends on the way: extra sausage, just like you said!

See you tonight, master!

Hello sir.

It's been a week since you came into my shop, and I've followed everything you said. I didn't agree with it at first, but you convinced me with that little pendant.

You were right! I really am beneath powerful men like you. Filthy blue-collar workers aren't worthy to lick the dirt off your shoes. You were right to point that out, and you were right to tell me to embrace it. When the world looks at me, they shouldn't see a man. They should see a grease monkey at the bottom of society.

That's why I haven't showered or changed in seven days. My BO is uncomfortable to work in, but I know it's just a reminder of what I am. I used to be proud of my job. Ha! I used to look down on suits like you, but I'm nothing in comparison; just a tool at your disposal.

Anyways, I cleaned and waxed your old car as fast as I could. I know I lent you my convertible, but you're welcome to keep it. I put a lot of sweat and blood in fixing her up, but like you said, fancy cars are meant for you to drive and me to maintain.

Stop back in my garage anytime. White-collar men like you get free service here! It's not the place of any lowly laborer to get in the way of what you want.

Thank you again, sir.

Hello boss.

Just started another long day of window washing! It's another hot one, but I'll keep my head down and sweat through it like usual.

I've gotta say, it's days like this that make me miss the comforts of my old corporate desk job. I'd kill for some AC right now, but I remember how much you made me realize I hated that career. Like you said, I'm much better suited to a life of mindless cleaning.

It turns out you're the real one with a knack for business strategy because all of your advice has been genius! The income is dependent on the hours I put in, and since I'm working for half the price of all competitors, I've gotten a monopoly on the market! I've fully booked all seven days for the next five or so weeks, so I'll be washing windows non-stop!

The business is already booming! I've been billing customers to your bank account, so you should already see all the profit in there!

Later today, I'll make a note of the minimum I need to replenish the cleaning supplies I'm running through. I'd also be grateful if you loaned me a bit for personal use, but it's understandable if you can't spare any! We agreed that I wasn't working for a salary, and I'm fine with that! I've been sleeping in the company van the last few weeks and it's more than good enough for me!

Don't worry, boss. I'll get back to work!

Tell my wife hello for me, master!

Working on a rig has been isolating. The job is brutal, the days are long, and every night I head back to our bunks covered in oil. I thought I'd at least get to bond with the other guys, but most of us are too tired to do anything but eat and sleep after our shift.

The only thing that's getting me through it is thinking about you. I know I also have a girl at home, but you were the one that gave my life purpose. I was never going to make money as an actor, and you helped me see that! You were the one that convinced me to go for this ridiculous job in the middle of the ocean, and now I'm making a ton of money!

You deserve it all.

I wouldn't have seen any of this cash if I hadn't stuck around after your stage hypnosis show. I still remember the wild look in your eyes when you came up with this idea for me. I also remember that hungry look you had when you saw my wife. It was impossible to say no.

Oh, and thanks for keeping my wife company while I'm gone. A man like you deserves her attention more than I do. Like you said, I doubt I was pleasing her to begin with. The only thing I'm good for is earning money, and I hope you're enjoying it because it sure isn't easy to earn!

I gotta get back, but I wanted to let you know that I signed up for another six months like you suggested. It's lonely, but I'm happy to do it, master!

Son, or should I still call you 'sir'?

I'm not sure if I your new title applies through text as well? Being your dad and your servant can be a bit confusing, but I don't mean disrespect you! Just let me know.

My workout is done and I'm headed back to your house. I signed the deed over to you this morning, so you officially own it now! Like usual, I'll clean the place from top to bottom. I've got all the mops and cleaning supplies in my van and ready to go. Since it's Friday, I'll start on the weekly yard work; mowing, weeding, etc... I don't want to bore you with the details, but it'll take the majority of the day to keep your place in tip top shape!

As I understand it, you are having friends over tonight, so I'll prepare a three course meal for eight. I ironed my apron this morning so I should look like a more presentable waiter than last night when I served your food!

As always, please let me know if there's any other way I can be of service today or tonight.

I'll be awaiting your return, sir.

Hey little bro,

I just finished my workout at the gym with dad. We're both hitting PRs and we're really starting to see some results! Still can't believe you hypnotized his dumb ass to think he's your butler! That man looks so stupid changing from gym clothes into a bowtie and gloves. He's constantly calling you 'sir' too, even when you're not around.

He's such an idiot.

Anyways, I'm all dressed and ready for my new job. You were totally right. I'm going to be so much happier as a clown instead of a wrestler. I'm about to head out to my first gig; a ten year old's birthday party. I think he's the kid of someone I used to compete with. It might be a little awkward, but it won't affect my routine. I've got an afternoon of pies in the face and self-deprecating humor ahead of me.

I made sure to tell the guy who hired me that I'm willing to stay after and clean up. Kids make a huge mess after all. I just hope he won't be too weird about me being a clown at his son's party. We may have been rivals in the past, but that was back when I wrestled. Now I'm just a joke for hire. He's technically my boss for the day, so I'll have to get used to taking orders from him.

Wish me luck, bro. I'll give you the money after the dad dismisses me. Let's hope I make a good clown!

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Butler x Noble! "Villain/Villainess"! Gn! Reader

Ah. I just reread Beware the Villainess for the nth time so expect our yandere for the day to be heavily inspired by Nine!

Yandere Butler name: Zero (get it? Cuz Nine's name is a number so I made our yandere's name Zero--)

notes (not really TW): slight nsfw, yandere is being used by reader, also, a bit of manipulation and breeding by the yandere (Since there is breeding, womb is present in reader.)

Zero had no qualms on making other people his priority.

He was made with that in mind, after all. Being a chimera, he was made by his creator to serve them and nothing more.

But, once Zero grew up to have a mind of his own, and having his own opinions, he was effectively kicked out of the lab. He begged and begged for his creator to take him back but to no avail.

"You were made to serve me unconditionally! But you dare question my experiments and the way I created you?! I'm your god! But you defied me, so scram!"

With a heavy heart and a lovely face filled with tears, he ran away.

He roamed the streets and promptly passed out on an alley.

Despite being a chimera, he was still built with human bodily functions. So the hunger, stress, thirst, and tiredness caught up to him.

When passerby's saw him, they turned a blind eye on him. Spitting on his body, rolling their eyes, ignoring them, or the worst of them all, pity him yet did absolutely nothing to help.

Maybe, this was his fate after all.

The punishment for going astray from his original role.

Until one day, a hand appeared in front of his face, offering him a safe place to stay.

It was you.

You were his savior, his grace, his god.

And he will do anything for you.

Anything.

Sobs can be heard from your room. It was so faint that only the keenest of ears can hear them if they strain it far enough.

You just got fooled by your fiancé, the prince, again. He called you to the palace to meet him, and you, being in love with him still, rushed to the palace with the best outfit you can wear.

But once you entered the sitting room, you saw him once more, making sweet, sweet love to a woman who wasn't you.

Ah, how many times did he do this again? Two? Three? Seven? Who counts anymore.

You were the foolish person who refused to let go of the prince and continued to torment his lover, deeming you the villain/ess in people's eyes for being opposed to "true love."

Is it really true love if it stemmed from adultery?

You always question yourself that. And it seems that even your own family is getting tired of your quick dropping reputation that's plummeting even faster than a meteorite.

You hate him. You hate him so much for making you love him. Your heart squeezes in pain as your short bursts of gasps of frustration filled your lethargic body as you continued to cry out to ease the dull ache in your soul.

You want revenge. You want him to eat shit. But how?

Zero knocked on the door. His hearing, being more advanced than a regular human, heard your sobs. He wanted to comfort you so bad, he wants to hug and kiss you, to make you forget the prince, to make you fall for him. He will not hurt you, so please give him a chance!

But Zero shook his head. "Presumptuous." He thought.

You opened your door, and Zero's heart squeezed also when he saw your tear stained face. He can see it in your eyes that you wanted revenge. You wanted to get back at the prince.

He gulped, nervousness eating him.

This is it. He can be of help to you.

He stepped forward, one, two. Then bent down to kiss your tears away. With a whisper on your ear that left shivers down your spine, his lovely and sultry voice suggested.

"Use me at your disposal, master. I am your one and only loyal servant, and I am willing to be your tool for your revenge."

His face lit up with love and lust as he saw your eyes sparking in curiousity.

"Yes, just use me." He grabbed your hand and pressed it to his warm, red cheeks. "You're my god, after all. I live to serve you."

"gah... huff... Ah..."

"Master... Hng... There, right... agh, there..."

Soft moans and gasps can be heard from the sitting room as two individuals engaged in what old conservative nobles would say, a sinful act.

"Rougher, master... Don't... Ah~ worry about... Me!"

Zero's voice can be heard, pleading his master, you, to take him more rougher and faster. You being on top of him, pressing down on his tall, lean, and muscular body that sweated with heat and speckled with bodily fluids, he looks so blissful and so euphoric.

You and Zero have been making rounds on the local gossip and tabloids. The noble y/n who's engaged to the prince has found a man? And it's their butler?!

Scandalous!

Outrageous!

But also, exciting!

Everyone loved the gossip. Everyone loved the drama. The prince had a lover, so why can't you?

People looked on the situation with keen and sharp eyes. They want more of this. Some suspected that this is all a ruse by you, the villain/ess of the prince's and his lover's relationship. They think you're faking your relationship with Zero!

But how can it be faked when you declined the prince's invitation to be his partner on the royal ball, and instead went with your hot butler? Some also saw both of you make out in the gardens!

How... SInful!

Yet people can't turn away!

And one of the people that can't turn away is the prince. He wants answers, now!

So he's running to your mansion and will demand answers.

But, what if he's the one to catch his own fiance/e making sweet, sweet love to their lover?

And what if, that lover, somehow manipulated the fiance/e into letting him breed a child in them?

Zero shakily touched your abdomen. It already has a slight bump on it as you continued to bounce on top of him. He grinned. His eyes dark, hazy, and full of obsession as he groaned from the pleasure. Your sounds of euphoric release also urged him to climax also inside of you once more.

"Yes, master." Zero said with a trembling voice, just coming down from his high. "I think, having this child between us will effectively make the prince finally end the engagement between you two."

Sweet, dumb you, only nodded with a shiver as you laid on top of him. You were totally convinced that this was the right choice and plan.

At first, you were apprehensive. After all, pregnancy? Isn't that too much? Also, he's a chimera. That's impossible.

But once you saw him experimenting on himself and applying alchemic practices on his own body to make the plan possible, you knew he would do anything to help you and serve you. So you agreed.

You got swayed that easily.

He smiled sweetly. His lovely and innocent face calmed you down as he kissed your forehead. Faint shouts can be heard from outside the sitting room and both of you readied to face the prince one last time.

Zero smirked under his breath.

After all, you were his god, his lover.

He will do anything to serve you.

He will do anything to have you.

[matchlocksunflowers]

taking some extra anatomy classes this year, here are some of my notes in case they could help someone. should be updated every weekend (aside from october 28th and november 4th which are free days) with the following lesson's notes. (further explanations at the end)

anyway. here goes:

SCENE 0-1: LEARNING HOW TO LOOK/OBSERVE

when drawing, we each more or less have our own methods when approaching certain subjects, with multiple tools at our disposal in order to achieve the desired results. 

but generally, when drawing a model (or most things from life, actually) we can in some sort of way define a general order as to when to draw what: 

Looking / Observing

Blocking In

Correcting

Details

for today i’ll focus on the first one of the list, looking / observing.

the existing nuance between “seeing” and “looking” exists in the sense that “seeing” is more passive than “looking”. when you say “i can see a cat”, you aren’t paying too much attention to the cat. but when you say “i am looking at a cat’, you are actively paying attention to the cat and what they’re doing. 

(given the class is in French, the nuance was similar, using the words “voir” and “regarder”. but due to French not having a close equivalent to “watch” i cannot make more parallels about this, as my knowledge of English and French-to-English translation is still fairly limited)

when looking at a subject, the primary objective should be to understand what you’re looking at. you can look at a subject (or the world as a whole) under multiple filters: values, hues, proportions, in 2D or 3D, and so on. you need to define how you want to look at a subject following these filters of vision. what do you want to look at first? what do you want the viewer to look at first? this is important to define before you put your tool to your support. 

generally when drawing from life, it’s a bit reckless to rush to draw the model without actually observing them a minimum. you should take the time to observe, you are allowed to take your time to observe. no amount of limited time should paralyze you from examining the model the best you can before you put your tool to use. 

getting this more precise vision of your model can give you a better vision of their body, which is often hidden under detail. when drawing them, you should ask yourself “how is the model posing?” 

why look/observe? (probably like the most given piece of advice by pros and art youtubers who aren’t pros but still get called pros cause they have 1 million subscribers on youtube) 

this question is very easily asked but also very easily answered: 

to know how and what you’re going to draw 

to time yourself correctly and have a good time management (drawing a pose in 2 minutes is completely different to drawing a 10 minutes one), thus,

to avoid rushing to draw the subject. as said previously, take your time. start slow, but stay accurate to the model. (teacher compared it to a musician rehearsing a piece, first slowly, then speeding it up progressively as he gets to know the piece itself better and better. unfortunately as someone who is as farthest from a musician as can be, i cannot honestly attest to if this is accurate). 

but really, there is actually no such thing as a “finished” drawing. a graphite drawing could always have color added afterwards, a painting could always get more and more detailed. a piece is “finished” only when you deem it is finished. the French Académie des Beaux Arts didn’t like the Impressionists because to them, what the impressionists were doing were half assed jobs, since the idea of “transmitting a vague feeling, or an emotion through a specific style of very visible strokes” was absolute fuckery to them. speaking of, 

to transmit an emotion, or a feeling through the posing of the model. the more technical and controlled the strokes will be, the finer the wanted sensation will be felt by the viewer. this also ties in the physical aspect of the model. ideally, in order to achieve this, you can try posing the same way the model does. it may be a bit awkward but it works (depending on your learning type, of course.) 

to understand how the whole “body system” works. “i know the rules of the human body, therefore i make little to no mistakes.” 

adding a whole context to the pose helps: adding a situation in which the pose could work in gives some meaning to your drawing, as well as helping you remember it better. it also adds a narrative element to your drawing(s), which are absolutely always a plus. (memorization is also an important tool!)

now let me play devil’s advocate and ask: why not look/observe?

well, uh, there are two reasons my teach told us: 

to let your instinct and imagination go wild and free, trust your gut and have fun!! 

and, tying back, 

to let yourself be surprised by what you’ve done.

form synthesis (or just different types of approaches to draw form)

when drawing a model, there’s a few things that can be mentioned: 

multiple types of lines exist with different purposes within the drawing: the action line(s), structural lines, and contour lines. 

action lines define the overall movement of the pose. the principal one is the one you see when giving a better look at how dynamic the pose is. the secondary ones are the ones you can find in secondary rhythms when examining the pose a little longer. 

(here's a better example, actually:)

structural lines are pretty much the “stickman skeleton” you sometimes see in certain how to draw books (specifically the more advanced manga themed ones).

contour lines surround the form in a way as to draw all of the outer body without using inside shapes or lines. (it is also the basis for the Bargue method which will be slightly discussed below. there unfortunately won’t be any talk about cross-contour lines, as it hasn’t been talked about in class (yet?)) 

generally, lines take either an I shape, a C shape or an S shape. (teach said it’s preferable to mostly use I and C type lines when drawing live models. probably due to the fact that S shapes are much trickier to use “effectively” within a piece (effectively not meaning much in this context, if nothing at all. again, have fun.)). using these lines tell a lot about the model and the pose, telling a sort of dynamic storytelling which varies depending on what type of line you choose to represent your model. 

we can mostly talk about 2D shapes when three or more points have been linked by lines. sometimes, lines can skip articulations for the sake of dynamism. shapes should be thought about in their entirety, the difficulty that can be encountered usually being remaining vague but accurate with your form. 

now, a quick word about: 

the Bargue method (or, the fuck do you mean the Americans used it in art schools before us, Bargue was literally born in Paris, i fucking hate the Académie des Beaux-Arts)

the Bargue method is probably fairly well known among certain art schools or artistic communities. if i do recall correctly; it originated with Bargue noticing the low level of the students of the Académie des Beaux-Arts de Paris (or some other place basing itself solely on academic style art and paintings located in the city of Paris in the country of France on the continent of Europe) and devising a simple way to learn how to draw accurately from life (or plaster casts, depending on what you prefer). it solely based itself on straight, contour lines, forming a base around which to slowly add details to. apparently, a lot of art schools in america base their teaching of life drawing on this method, but given i do not feel like getting over $200k in debt without even mentioning living and travel costs, i cannot say if that is actually true. 

here's an example of it:

it’s pretty much basing yourself on simplifications of the form to attain absolute accuracy. no curves here to distract you, only straights. somehow, when pulled off correctly, it gives a very neat impression of realism.

anyway, that’s all i wrote down. hope teach won’t see this anytime soon, and hope this kinda helped a little bit. next week’s notes should be about blocking in shapes, so we’re starting to be a little more concrete with the actual drawing process. 

these classes were taught by Mr Francis Buchet at a class given at the Académie de la Grande Chaumière, so most of the things i’m saying here are taken from him and his class. if you live in/close to Paris and are interested in learning artistic anatomy, i suggest you look up where he is giving public classes, since they’re infinitely more engaging than these notes. his instagram is be linked below. (hoping he doesn’t get mad at me for sharing these notes… in any case i will use my own example sheets to avoid getting in any more trouble.)

and, may i remind you: these notes are only here to showcase one approach among many others, so they don’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. i myself am in absolutely no way a professional, so please, take all of this with a grain of salt (or a spoonful, even). draw how you enjoy drawing, and find happiness in the way you want to draw. 

Francis Buchet's instagram: x

so, seeyou next weekend! (or earlier, if i draw something i want to show here.)

[ticklishbeans4]

Welp, since my friend has pulled me into it, Hazbin Hotel Tickle Headcanons! PT. 1!

This got really long so I'll make a part 2 soon lol

Charlie-

Lee-

Charlie LOVES tickles, adores them really!

It's her favorite way to bond with her friends!

Her worst spots are her belly, her hooves, her ribs, and her neck!

When she was little she got into tickle fights with her parents fairly often. She very rarely won, but she never minded.

She has a bright bubbly giggly type of laugh, sometimes snorting if she laughs hard enough.

Ler

She's a ruthless ler, shockingly enough, and super teasy.

I HC that her true demon form is like her dads, aka 6 wings, all for tickle attacks! >:3

She usually starts slow, in a not super ticklish spot, and works her way up!

Very verbally teasy, likes to sound out the word tickle if that word flusters her lee.

She'll use all tools at her disposal, but her favorite way to tickle is nibbles and raspberries.

Her most common target is Vaggi, at least until she get the other Hotel guests into her shenanigans!

Vaggi

Lee

She's not the biggest lee in the hotel, but she enjoys it from time to time

She only really lets Charlie tickle her at first, but slowly as she gets to actually like and care about the other members of the hotel, she lets them tickle her occasionally.

Her worst spots are her belly, ribs, knees, and hips.

She's got a loud laugh, and hiccups a lot when she laughs really hard.

Light tickles make her melt, especially light tickles on her neck or under her chin.

Ler

Evil. She is evil when she tickles others.

She doesn't tickle anyone but Charlie at first, but once she start tickling the others, they're done for.

She'd got nails, and she's known for scribbling them all over her victim.

She also loved giving raspberries.

Horrible tease, she's got all the classics "Coochie coochie coo!" "Tickle tickle tickle!" and so on.

Angel Dust

Lee

He doesn't really enjoy being tickled at first. He associates it with his work with Val, since I'm sure Val has made him do videos for that side of the tickle community.

But when he had to do those videos they always went to far and it would often be a very unpleasant situation for him.

Once he got more comfortable with the others he did allow them to pull him into tickle fights.

They'll go slow with him, no restraining him and keeping a close eye to see if he starts to show signs of distress.

His worst spots are under his arms (all of them), his feet, knees, and hips.

Prefers softer tickles, especially feathers.

Ler

He's much more comfortable being a ler than a lee.

He uses his extra arms to tickle his friends silly.

Definitely a big tease! He usually likes to point out how ticklish someone is, or ask questions like "Oh? Is this spot more ticklish? Or this spot? You're not being very communicative ya know!"

His favorite target is Alastor, cause he thinks the noises he makes are funny.

Charlie is his second favorite, cause she just accepts the tickles and barely even tries to fight back. Plus, he knows she enjoys it, so it's to play with her sometimes.

Alastor

Lee

Super. Crazy. Ticklish. Bean.

This poor guy was cursed to be the most ticklish guy ever.

His worst spots are under his arms, his toe beans, his belly, and his ears.

Of course he's stupid ticklish all over, but those are the worst.

He's got a bright staticy laugh, and if he laughs hard enough it'll break up into static or even pick up radio signals. Sometimes he'll even accidentally take the power out.

Teasing takes him out, poor guy can't stand the word tickle. Can't even say it.

Once the others find out, he's a goner.

Ler

He gives as good as he gets, and loves doing it.

His static will sometimes fill the room and tickle the others a bit.

He liked to treat his tickling like a show "And here we see our dear Charlie is quite sensitive on her belly! Care to make a statement about that?"

His shadow sometimes helps to tickle his victims, holding then down or attacking the spots that Alastor isn't getting.

He absolutely uses his tendrils to tickle his victims, he thinks it's hilarious to make someone scream with laughter.

Sometimes likes to tweak someone as he passes by because they needed to smile in his opinion.

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 1: Going Home

In the small barn situated in a quaint rural Wisconsin town, you stood behind the Holstein cow, your task just completed. You carefully peeled off the long blue disposable veterinary glove, a necessary tool for checking if cows, or even horses, were pregnant. With a practiced motion, you tossed the glove into the nearby blue bucket, a routine part of your work in veterinary care. The rustic environment of the barn, the sound of animals nearby, and the smell of hay and livestock created a familiar and comforting atmosphere.

"Well, Hank. She's due any day now," You state, stepping out of the stall. In your jeans, rubber boots, and flannel shirt, you fit right in, despite the stray wisps of chestnut hair escaping your French braid.

Hank, an elderly man dressed in blue jean overalls and a flannel shirt, acknowledged your evaluation with a grateful nod. "Thank you, Doc. I'm not sure how I can repay you…hold on a moment. I recently had a pig butchered. I can offer you some of that meat," he proposed, his weary gray eyes brightening with the suggestion.

"Only if it won't affect your winter provisions. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you in any way."

"No, we're set for now. We still have some meat left from the two deer my sons hunted last fall."

Extending your hand, you replied, "That's more than fair. It'll also take care of any future issues you might have with Mildred."

Gratefully, he clasped your hand in his. "Ever since you arrived here, Doc, you've been a godsend. I can't imagine what we'd do without your help."

You exchanged a firm handshake.

"Remember to call me if there's anything else you need, alright?"

"I sure will. Thanks once more."

Picking up your bucket, you made your way out of the barn and towards your truck.

You positioned your bucket at the rear of your truck, swung open the door, and settled into the driver's seat. Retrieving your cellphone, you noticed a missed call and a voicemail from your husband. As you closed your eyes, you took a deep breath, exhaling with a sigh. His communications typically revolved around financial matters, prompting you to wonder about the nature of this particular call.

You tapped the voicemail icon on your iPhone and listened:

"Y/N, it's me. I'm just calling to inform you that I'm on my way back. Not to Texas, though, but to Wisconsin. I'll be landing at Rusk County Airport, aiming to arrive by around 6 p.m. tonight. I'll see you then."

After the message ended, you disconnected the call.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin busied himself packing his travel bag, which lay sprawled on his bed.

"Just to clarify," began Javy 'Coyote' Machado, his best friend, with a tone of disbelief, "you've got a place in Wisconsin?"

"Yup," Jake affirmed.

"And you've never actually set foot in it?"

"Nope," Jake responded, keeping his focus on his packing.

"And who looks after this house?"

"My wife does," Jake said nonchalantly.

Coyote's eyes widened in surprise. "You're married?"

"Yes," Jake replied simply.

Coyote took a moment, the weight of Jake's revelation sinking in. "Hold on, Jake. We've been friends for nearly ten years. And in all that time, you've never once mentioned that you were married, or even hinted at it."

"Well, I am," Jake said matter-of-factly, continuing with his packing.

Coyote, in disbelief, threw his hands up and scanned the room. "Okay, then who is she? And how come there aren't any photos of her around here?"

"We've both had a lot on our plates," Jake replied, finishing his packing with a zip of the bag.

"But how busy can a married couple be to not even see each other?" Coyote pressed.

"She's been occupied with her studies," Jake explained.

"Studies? What, is she training to be a doctor or something?"

Jake remained silent for a moment, his face giving away nothing.

"You're serious? She's actually a doctor?"

Picking up his bag, Jake finally responded, "She was studying to become a large animal veterinarian."

Coyote, visibly taken aback, managed to stutter, "I just... I'm at a loss for words."

Jake, shifting his focus to the task at hand, asked, "You still up for driving me to the airport?"

"Of course," Coyote replied, still processing the revelation.

"Great. Then let's hit the road." Jake motioned towards the door, ready to embark on his journey.

Steering your black Ford F-250, you navigated the lengthy driveway leading to your residence. This log cabin, a product of an inheritance and some astute financial decisions, had been your project three years prior.

As the cabin came into view, you admired the expansive structure that occupied thirty acres of farmland you had acquired. Beyond it lay a sizable horse stable, complete with an attached training ring, a testament to your love for animals.

Approaching the house, you pressed the button to activate the garage door. The door of the 4-car garage rolled open, and you smoothly parked your truck inside, ready to disembark.

You reached over to the passenger side to grab your backpack, then opened the door and stepped out of the truck. Heading towards the door that led into the house, you moved with a purpose, the sound of the garage door closing behind you echoing in the spacious enclosure.

This door opened into the mudroom, which was equipped with a fully functional laundry room, a bathroom, a pet washing station, and ample storage space. As you let your backpack fall to the floor, your cell phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, you saw it was your mother-in-law calling. Pressing the answer button, you greeted her warmly while switching the phone to speaker mode.

"Hi, Cindy," you said, freeing your hands as you continued your entry routine.

"Y/N, how are you?"

"I'm good. How about you?"

"Just fine," she replied.

"So, you understand why I'm calling then?"

You released a sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down. "Yes. He called and left a voicemail."

"Y/N, he still loves you." Cindy's voice carried a mix of hope and concern.

As you settle onto the bench and begin to remove your boots, you respond, "I know."

Cindy probes further, sensing your hesitation, "That doesn't sound very convincing."

With a slight shake of your head, you reply, "Well, sometimes Jake isn't very convincing either."

"Just take things slow," Cindy advises gently. "I believe all you both need is some time together again."

"I'll do my best," you promise, the conversation steering towards a hopeful possibility.

Cindy's voice softened further, her tone imbued with the wisdom of experience. "I understand that it's been difficult, and there might be a lot of unresolved feelings between you two. But remember, love is about finding your way back to each other, even through the toughest times."

You paused, absorbing her words. It was clear she spoke from a place of deep understanding and perhaps her own experiences. "You're right, Cindy. It's just… hard to know where to start."

"Start with honesty," she suggested. "Open up to each other about your feelings, fears, and hopes. It's the foundation you can build on. And remember, you're not alone. We're all here for you, supporting you both."

Your smile reflects a moment of gratitude. "Thanks, Cindy." Glancing at your watch, a sense of urgency creeps in. "I need to go. It's already 5 o'clock, and I've only just got back from work. Jake mentioned he'd be flying in at 6."

"Alright, dear. Please keep me updated on how things go. Oh, and thank you again for the horse fly repellent. It's been working wonders."

"Of course, I'll let you know. And you're welcome. Take care, talk to you later," you say, wrapping up the conversation. After hanging up the phone, you pick up your backpack and make your way to your bedroom, ready to prepare for what comes next.

After managing to squeeze in a quick shower, you slipped into some clean clothes. With the temperature taking a dip, you opted for a pair of jeans, a heavyweight sweatshirt, and hiking shoes to keep comfortable. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, practical for the drive. Steering your Expedition, you headed towards the local airport to meet Jake.

Aware that Jake piloted a Cirrus plane—a fact made all the more personal by your having paid off the aircraft this year—you felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension about the reunion.

Turning onto the road that led to the airport, you soon arrived and parked your truck outside your hangar, ready to greet him.

Casting a look at your watch, you noted it was ten minutes to 6. A memory flashed through your mind, a reminder of one of your husband's traits: Jake was always punctual.

As you closed your eyes, your head resting gently against the headrest, a vivid memory began to surface, transporting you back to the moment you first met Jake:

You stepped through the doors of the rustic bar in Austin, Texas. Your college friend Avery right next to you.

"It's only one night. We deserve it after yesterday," she said.

The rustic bar was alive with the energy of live music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The atmosphere was exactly what you needed after the grueling exams that had consumed your life for the past few weeks. Avery, ever the instigator of your small adventures, was right; a night of unwinding was long overdue.

Navigating through the bustling crowd toward the bar, you felt a sudden nudge that almost set you off, ready to confront whoever was behind it. But that impulse faded the moment you turned around, finding yourself looking into the most captivating green eyes you had ever seen.

The surprise of the encounter rendered you momentarily speechless. The owner of those captivating green eyes was quick to apologize, his voice a warm, deep timbre that seemed to echo directly to your core.

"Sorry about that," he said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "This place is a bit more crowded than I expected."

You found your voice, albeit a little shaky from the unexpected jolt of attraction. "It's okay, really. I should have been watching where I was going."

He chuckled, and it was a sound that made you want to hear more of it, to keep him talking just so you could listen. "I'm Jake," he extended his hand, the action both friendly and bold.

Taking his hand, you felt a surprising jolt of electricity at the contact. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, Y/N. You here to see anyone in particular tonight?" Jake asked, his gaze still locked with yours, as if the crowded bar around you had faded into the background.

"Just here to unwind with a friend," you replied, gesturing toward where Avery had found a spot at the bar, seemingly engaged in trying to order drinks.

Jake nodded, understanding. "This place is perfect for that, but you're not from around here."

Your curiosity piqued, you tilted your head slightly, impressed by his observation. "Is it that obvious?"

He smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "It's the accent."

You chuckled, self-consciously touching your throat as if you could feel your accent there. "I guess it's a dead giveaway, huh?"

"Only a little," Jake teased, his eyes twinkling with humor. "But it's a good thing. Makes you stand out." He thought a second. "Sounds a bit midwestern to me almost Canadian."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "That specific, huh? Well, you're not wrong. I'm actually from Wisconsin, so you're pretty close with the Midwestern guess."

Jake nodded, impressed with himself. "I have an ear for these things. Wisconsin's a beautiful place."

"It is," you agreed, your thoughts briefly wandering back to the familiar landscapes of home.

"So, what brings you here?"

"I'm here for a college class."

"College, huh? What's your major?"

"Veterinarian. I'm a large animal veterinarian."

Jake's interest visibly perked up at your answer. "A large animal vet? That's impressive. There's always a need for folks who can handle the bigger animals, especially around these parts."

You nodded, feeling a mix of pride and passion for your chosen field. "Yeah, it's been a dream of mine since I was little. I love animals, and getting to help them, especially the larger ones that require a bit more... let's say, finesse, has always been fulfilling for me."

He leaned against the bar, genuinely intrigued. "Sounds like it's more than just a job to you."

"It is," you admitted. "It's about making a difference, however small it may seem. And the connection with the animals... there's something special about it."

Jake smiled, his admiration for your dedication clear. "I can see that. It takes a special kind of person to do what you do. And speaking of making a difference, my family owns a ranch not too far from here. We've got horses, and every now and then, we run into a situation that could use a vet with your expertise."

The mention of his family's ranch piqued your interest. "Really? I'd love to hear more about it. Working with horses has always been a dream of mine."

Just as you were caught in that moment, Avery approached, holding a beer out to you. "Here's your beer," she said, handing it over before her gaze shifted to Jake. "And who's this?"

"Avery, meet Jake. Jake, this is Avery," you made the introductions, facilitating the exchange between your friend and the man with the captivating green eyes.

The sound of a plane engine snapped you out of your reverie, prompting you to open your eyes and gaze skyward. Above the airport, you spotted the small Cirrus plane, unmistakably Jake's. You watched as it gracefully circled above, aligning itself for a smooth approach before finally descending towards the runway in a well-executed landing.

As the plane taxied closer to where your vehicle was parked, you observed the engine powering down. Stepping out of your truck, you began to walk slowly towards the aircraft. The door of the plane opened and out stepped a figure you recognized instantly – a six-foot tall man with dirty blond hair. He was casually dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, and tennis shoes, complemented by a brown leather jacket. It was Jake, finally there in front of you after what felt like an eternity.

But it wasn't the young Jake you remembered, this Jake had turned into a manly Jake. He still had the same piercing green eyes, but his face had turned more rugged, yet still handsome. His presence seemed to exude a quiet strength and a sense of maturity that the younger Jake hadn't possessed. There was an air of confidence about him, tempered with a hint of world-weariness. His green eyes, still as piercing as you remembered, now seemed to carry deeper stories, reflections of experiences and growth. His face, more rugged and lined than before, bore the marks of life's trials and triumphs, adding to his manly allure. Yet, despite the changes, there was an undeniable familiarity in his gaze, a connection to the past that lingered in his expression.

He closed the door when you reached him. "Y/N," he said.

"Jake."

The two of you looked at each other.

You cleared your throat and looked away. "Our hangar is over there." You pointed to the hangar behind your vehicle.

"Our hangar?"

"Yes. I had it built after you purchased the plane."

He looked at you questioningly and then he observed the hangar with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "You built that?"

"Yes, it seemed practical for storage and maintenance," you explained, maintaining a professional tone despite the undercurrent of emotions swirling between you.

Jake took a moment to absorb this information, his gaze shifting from the hangar back to you. "That's... impressive. Thank you," he said, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation mixed with the awkwardness of the moment.

"You're welcome," you replied, feeling the complexity of the situation. After a brief pause, you added, "Shall we get the plane stored?"

He nodded, a silent agreement to focus on the task at hand, perhaps both of you grateful for a momentary diversion from the emotional reunion.

"You can put your bags in the truck. It's unlocked. I'll go open the hangar and get the tow bar."

""How about I assist you with opening the hangar and retrieving the tow bar once I've put my bags in the truck?"

"That's fine," you agreed since you had no clue what you were doing anyways. You watched as Jake went to the other side of the plane and grabbed four bags.

You quickly made your way to Jake's plane and grabbed two of the bags and then placing the bags in the back of the Expedition. Jake did the same with the other two and then started walking towards the hangar. You couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. This was all new to you, and the prospect of being involved in something as unfamiliar as handling a plane was both thrilling and slightly intimidating.

After securing the bags, you walked towards the hangar, where Jake was already busy. As you approached, he looked up and gave you a brief nod, acknowledging your presence. You stood there for a moment, watching him work. He moved with a practiced ease, clearly familiar with every aspect of the aircraft and the hangar.

"Need a hand?" you asked, eager to learn and help.

Jake glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Sure. Could you grab the other end of this tow bar?" He held out one end of a long, metal bar to you.

You took the offered end, feeling its weight. Jake guided you on how to position it correctly, explaining how it was used to move the plane. Together, you maneuvered the bar into place and began the task of towing the aircraft into the hangar.

As you worked alongside Jake, you appreciated the quiet efficiency with which he operated. There was a sense of competence and confidence about him that you found reassuring. It was clear that he was in his element here, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for his skills.

Once the plane was safely in the hangar, Jake secured everything and turned to you. "Thanks for the help. Not everyone would jump in like that."

You shrugged modestly, feeling a small sense of pride. "Happy to learn something new. And it's not every day I get to say I helped tow a plane."

His chuckle resonated warmly in the hushed atmosphere of the hangar. "Well, you did a fantastic job."

"Thanks," you responded with a bashful smile. "Uh, dinner should be all set by the time we get back."

"You made dinner?"

"Not exactly. His name is Chuck. I encountered him during a trip to Wyoming."

Jake's eyes widened in surprise. "Another man is living in my house?!"

You sighed. "I honestly don't know how to answer that because you really haven't even seen our house."

Jake ran a hand through his hair turning away and then turned back to you. "I never cheated on you, Y/N. I came here to work on our marriage. You could've at least told me."

You looked at him. "I'm sorry. I forgot, my husband hasn't really contacted me for four years. What was I thinking? Oh yeah, that I needed help running a ranch."

Jake stared at you.

"Chuck is my chef and, I guess, butler. He helps around the ranch."

Jake's expression shifted from shock to confusion. "You have a chef and a butler now?"

You nodded, trying to keep your tone even. "Yes, Jake. Running the ranch alone has been tough. Throw in my hours as a Veterinarian, you never know. Chuck has been a huge help, not just in the kitchen but around the property too. He's been indispensable, especially with you being away for so long."

There was a moment of silence as Jake processed this new information, his features softening slightly. "I see. I didn't realize how hard it's been for you here alone. I'm sorry, Y/N."

You let out a small sigh, the tension easing a bit. "It's okay. We both have a lot to catch up on. Let's just focus on getting back home for now."

Jake nodded, a look of understanding crossing his face. "You're right. We've both been through a lot, and we have a lot to talk about. But right now, let's just get back home and take it one step at a time."

After closing the hangar, you both walked towards the truck, there was a comfortable silence between you. It was the kind of silence that spoke of mutual understanding and the beginnings of reconciliation. You could sense that both of you were cautiously optimistic about what lay ahead.

Once in the truck, you started the engine and pulled out of the hangar area and started to drive home.

The familiar landscape passed by the windows, each mile bringing you closer to a place that held both memories and possibilities. You glanced over at Jake, who seemed focused on the road but also more at ease than he had been earlier.

"Thanks for coming to get me," he said softly, breaking the silence.

"You would've done the same thing for me," you replied.

Jake glanced your way, a small smile playing on his lips. "Always, Y/N. No matter what happens, I'll always come for you."

Those words, simple as they were, carried a weight of meaning that filled the cab of the truck. You leaned back in your seat, allowing yourself to feel the comfort of his presence and the hope that, despite the challenges, you both might find a way forward together.

Tags:

@buckysteveloki-me

@guacam011y

[chubs-deuce]

Hello!!! Love love LOVE your Charlastor and Hazbin artwork; your art is amazing!!

I have a feww questions if you’re comfortable with answering them (no worries if not) :D

I love hearing people’s music recommendations, so I was wondering if you listen to music whilst you draw and if there’s any songs in particular that make you think of the characters and/or the ship?

Also, I get a bit nervous posting about Charlastor because of some of the hate it gets in the fandom and because some of my irl classmates who follow me don’t like the ship (and don’t know I like it), so I was wondering what your general mindset is when you post your art online, but also what your mindset is like when posting Charlastor art, knowing what the fandom can be like?

Finallyy, I wanted to ask if you’ve read Under My Skin by whamagram on AO3 and if you have, what are your thoughts on it? It’s a mature slowburn Radiobelle fic and only has a few chapters out so far, but it’s updated pretty regularly and has become my new favourite at the moment! I highly highly recommend it because it’s super well-written, really witty, and really understands the characters. It’s all about Charlie nursing Alastor back to health after the final battle in season 1 and it’s just so well done!!

Again, just want to say that I really really love your work and thank you for sharing it! I especially love how you draw expressions and the way you draw characters and their emotions feels so real. Seeing your illustrations inspires me to keep practicing with my own art!

Omg thank you so much for this lovely ask?!!

I'd be more than happy to answer all of these actually! :D

I am, in fact, the kind of person who looooves finding songs that fit certain characters or ships and make whole playlists over time if I find enough of them, so here's some that made me think of Charlastor (links are all spotify):

- Glass Piano, by Kathleen

- Daisy Bell, and specifically this scuffed computer sung version bc it hits better

- bored like me, by dodie

- Ended with the Night, by Caravan Palace

- I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire, by The Ink Spots

- I Can't Decide, by Scissor Sisters

I have yet to really find more songs specific to the characters as individuals tho lol

----------

As for your next question...

This isn't my first rodeo in the unpopular non-canon het presenting ship club, so there's a few things I like to remind myself of when I feel that people pleaser anxiety sneaking up on me:

1)

if people truly wanted to avoid content of the ship, they'd block the tags. Maybe kindly ask your friend to block the charlastor and radiobelle tags bc you want to post about them? This way they're not forced to see what they dislike and you get to have your harmless fun. If they're opposed to this, question why. It's not your job to curate *their* online experience, they do have all the necessary tools at their disposal.

2)

I consider the source material like a toy box. You can play with the dolls in it like the packaging intended for you to, but there's no rules dictating that you can't play *your* way if that's more fun to you.

Canon is in my eyes the preferred suggestion, but not the law - don't we all just smush the heads of dolls together making kissy noises in our minds at the end of the day?

A lot of people sadly treat shipping like it's a battle for author validation, when in reality it was always just a way to playing with hypotheticals and exploring the world and characters canon offered us in new and interesting ways... I hate the attitude some people have about canonicity. Imo, as long as you're not acting like your non-canon ship should be canon and shit on other ships in the process, you're not doing any harm.

Now... Canon sexualities and having contrary headcanons are a tricky road to travel because there's so much emotional investment in the canon representation of often overlooked or mishandled minority groups, and this is the biggest anti argument I've seen get thrown around, since Charlastor as a ship not only splits up the canon lesbian pairing, but also alters Alastor's canon sexuality to make the ship work.

What's important here is that you handle it respectfully - i.e. don't be a dick and go around acting like your preferred ideas are better and should be canon or whatever. Attitude is important, respect canon for what it is and embrace the fact that your ship is not. It's not a detriment! It just means we have to make all of our own content lol.

I personally headcanon Alastor as demisexual/demiromantic not only because it still fits under the aspec umbrella, but also because I myself am both of those things and enjoy messing with the characters and narrative using a dynamic I have a lot of personal experience with! It's fun to hit someone as haughty and stubbornly emotionally detached as Alastor with a flurry of unexpected, unwanted feelings and struggling to navigate them.

Do I want that to be canon? Absolutely not! I'm just having fun with my imaginative toys in my own corner of the internet lol.

Also for the record, I think Chaggie is cute and they should absolutely stay together, I just don't find them interesting enough to explore further in the realm of fanfiction and art :'D

Ultimately I'm a strong believer of "I can post whatever I want forever", if anyone has an issue with it and the given tools at their disposal aren't enough to deal with it, they're free to unfollow and/or block me! I don't need anyone's approval to have harmless fun with my artistic and writing skills where I don't bother anyone, and that's imo always what should be at the core of creating just about anything.

----------

OH ALSO I KNOW THAT FIC AND IT'S SOO GOOODDDD I DROP EVERYTHING TO GO READ IT WHENEVER A NEW CHAPTER DROPS

I try my best to leave comments under it wherever I can too bc it genuinely scratches like every itch I have about this ship so well-

The comedy is on point, the dialogue feels so solidly in-character and the pacing and the overall concept just work perfectly!!

10/10 concur as a great recommendation lol

----------

QWQ again, thank you so much for taking the time to type out this lovely ask, I really do appreciate it and the compliments also absolutely made my day!!

I hope you keep having as much fun with this ship as I am, take care!! <3

[reimeichan]

I'm really starting to enjoy the stage of DID recovery I'm at. It's got a funkiness to it that I don't see others talk about all that much, where it's like... kinda hard to pinpoint what state my system is in at any point in time, but not distressingly so? And also not in a dissociative way like before. It's like, I'm able to feel all these bits of me flowing in and out of my consciousness and sense of identity and I lack any sort of solid definition of what this version of me wants to be or what my destination is. I'm just kinda going with the flow now instead of trying to steer us in any particular direction.

It's definitely a lot less stressful than it used to be and it feels like my brain has calmed down pretty significantly. It's less noisy in my head and I'm now realizing some of that was because there were parts of me who felt like they couldn't be heard before now don't feel the need to scream and bang on the walls to be noticed. And because we're less dissociated from each other, we can more immediately share thoughts and feelings instead of having to manually pass those things around to each other.

I've still got that ADHD buzz, but I'm now realizing the way I described it as being "50 trains of thoughts all at once" or "having 50 tabs open and all of them are playing different audio" no longer feels like it properly describes my experiences anymore. It's more like... I have a game running and that's the main thing I'm focusing on, but I also have a youtube video guide for something I'm trying to do in the game, while I'm also got notepad open to take notes, and another window open to crosscheck information. And maybe a couple random tabs open that are completely unrelated. Still got a lot of tabs and windows up, but they're more aligned to the same or similar purpose.

I do still have the different parts and alters and we still have new (as in unknown or undocumented) parts showing up pretty much daily, but they tend to get caught up to speed fairly quickly and even the ones who are very split off from the rest of the system don't feel as scary to handle (and feel less scared themselves) since we have such a strong support network and various other tools and resources at our disposal. I still feel like we're generally different and separate parts, but we also blend and fuse and influence each other in ways that feel a lot more fluid. Instead of having to purposefully communicate things with each other every time it's now a lot more instant and the hard barriers between each of us feel more and more arbitrary as the days go on. Kinda like looking at a map? Where you see the borders on the map, but at the end of the day you remove all of that and the landscape tells a different story and shows how all those "countries" are actually connected and one giant landmass. And those borders are still important to understand how they're there and why they exist, but it's not the whole story and can actually distract you from the bigger picture.

I dunno, I know I'm definitely in a transitional period of my healing and that's why things feel so vague and nebulous but I'm not complaining. If anything I'm pretty excited for what's to come.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

All This World Could Give Me

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 4

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: swearing, possessive/slightly pervy Matt (he’s 18 y’all, cut him some slack), implied sexual activity, non-graphic descriptions of masturbation, religious conversations and catholic imagery

I’m ignoring canon a bit here and pretending Matt and Lantom were already close. Sue me.

a/n: I know it's been too long since I posted for this WIP and this is the last chapter I have finished writing so I'm posting it an hour early. But I'm going to try really hard to update this one more consistently because I know it's a fan favorite. As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated! They give me fuel to write.

w/c: 3.7k (Next chapter is much longer, I promise)

Matt had known you for 11 weeks. Less than 80 days in his life and his heart had practically carved you an altar, ready to worship a new God. His devotion to you was ardent—and it terrified him. 

You deserved more than he could provide, that much was still true, but he couldn’t help the searing pain in his chest when you talked about your new boyfriend. Everett. Just mentioning his name sparked twin blooms of heat in your cheeks and waves of arousal to cloud around you. It was enough to make Matt nauseous. 

A few weeks ago, your new beau had been no more than an unknown peer to the three of you, but it had taken him all of three days to coil around you like a serpent–prying you from Matt’s undying grasp. The two of you had met at Oscar’s homecoming house party and had apparently “totally hit it off”. Two days after that, you’d excitedly reconnected at a Civil Procedure study session that he’d spearheaded with your own TA. After an hour of flirty glances and pointed compliments bouncing between the pair of you, he’d offered to take you out for a late dinner. Stupidly, Matt had assumed you’d invite him and Foggy along, like you had when your last suitor had asked you out, but you’d bid a hasty goodbye to your friends before letting Everett escort you to his favorite diner. 

In the 2 weeks since then, your friends had barely seen you. Dates with Everett had become so frequent that you’d been skipping or rescheduling your semi-weekly study sessions and miscellaneous hangouts were shorter than ever. Characteristically, Foggy had been much more understanding of the shift in your behavior. 

“Cut her some slack, Murdock. This is her first adult relationship. She’s excited!” The blond reasoned, nudging Matt’s slumped shoulder with a knowing smirk. 

“I don’t know, Fog. Something’s…off about him.” 

Snorting, Foggy rolled his eyes. “The only thing ‘off’ about it is that our little jitterbug is dating him instead of you.” His accusation was only a murmur, but the sentiment still hit Matt like a truck. 

Your involvement with someone should’ve been a blessing. An opportunity for him to get over his unrequited feelings and move on with his life without jeopardizing one of the two friendships he’d ever had. Still, he couldn’t shake the unease he felt around the guy. They’d only interacted once, when you’d introduced them during the study session, but one short conversation was all Matt’s conscience needed to condemn the man. 

Though he was well aware that you preferred to show your love through kind words and soft touches, the sound of your pulse skipping when you'd entangled your hand with Everett’s continued to haunt him. Your intentions were as sweet as ever, but he couldn’t help but worry about your counterpart. His senses were bombarded with pheromones whenever he was around you, and the majority of them were not yours. It was like the guy knew exactly how to get under Matt’s skin and had taken to coating you in his cologne before allowing you out of his sight.

If it was possible, his mind was more occupied with thoughts of you than ever. Being in the same room with you was torturous, every molecule in his body buzzing with indignation at the thought that someone else had claimed you. Every mention of your relationship had him biting his tongue until it bled. 

Amazingly, he’d been able to restrain his frustration at the beginning of your relationship, preventing himself from snapping at you. However, given that he was only human, his willpower could only withstand so much. The last straw was the fresh bruising on your neck that had appeared the morning after a “study date” with Everett. It couldn’t have taken much effort to disguise, but Matt could still feel the heat pooling in three mouth-shaped marks along your satiny skin. 

As you sat beside him at the bookstore counter, you absentmindedly ran a finger over the neckline of your shirt, your heart fluttering as a nail scraped over the highest of the imprints. If Matt hadn’t been so in tune with you and your body, he wouldn’t have thought twice about the tiny sigh that escaped your lips–but he knew you like the back of his own hand, and the sound nearly broke him. 

Noticing the way he stiffened, your brow furrowed. “You ok?” You asked kindly, shifting nearer to him. 

Normally, he savored the warmth of your proximity, but today the combination of your closeness and the metallic taste of blood emanating from your various hickeys ignited a fury within him.  

“Fine.” He muttered, turning the page of his book.

“Ok, let me rephrase. Did you want to talk about whatever is obviously bothering you?” You reached out to run a hand along his arm, wafting a cloud of spicy cologne towards him. 

Jerking away from your touch, and nearly careening out of his seat in the process, Matt shook his head. “No. I’m good, thanks.”

Your breathing stuttered, but you shook it off quickly. “Alright, let me know if you change your mind.” Matt desperately tried to ignore the twist in his gut at the hurt that flooded your tone, to no avail.

The two of you stewed in the silence, pretending to study until the bell chimed—signaling a new presence. Matt had been so tangled up in his own guilt and regret that he hadn't noticed the familiar man approaching the store. Surely, God was laughing at his misfortune about now—his bad luck had to be cosmic.

“Evs!” You squealed, rushing out from behind the counter to hug him. After exchanging a nauseatingly lengthy kiss, you wrapped an arm around his waist and gestured to the other boy, still sitting by the register. “You remember Matt, right?” 

“Uh yah. How's it goin', man?” Everett gave a rigid nod in Matt's direction, not diverting an ounce of his attention from where it rested on you. 

Plastering on his phoniest smile, Matt lifted his hand in a wave. “Not too bad. You?“

”Oh you know, same old.“ The older student brushed off Matt's polite question in favor of pulling you more tightly against him. With a giggle, you let him kiss you again, standing on your tiptoes to reach him. 

”What are you doing here?“ You chuckled, tilting your head to the side as his lips traveled over the bruises he'd left the night before. Matt's stomach rolled at the resulting haze of arousal around you.

”Came to see you. Missed you so much, baby.“ Everett murmured between pecks. 

“I missed you too. But I'm working for another two hours.” You pushed his chest, breaking the seal of his lips along your skin. 

“That's ok, I'm a very patient man.” Your paramour purred, stepping away to let you take your seat again. 

Giggling, you leaned forward on the counter. Everett, as classy as ever, didn't hide the way his eyes drifted straight to your cleavage. Didn't he know that you were more than an object for his use and pleasure?

“Want to sit with us? We're reading for Torts. I can get you a chair...“ You trailed off, craning your neck to find a spare stool for him. 

Clearing his throat, Matt stood. ”He can have mine. I forgot, I have plans tonight.“ 

You pursed your lips, studying your friend as he packed up his things. Unperturbed, Everett quickly slid in beside you. ”Thanks, bro.”

“No problem, bro.” Matt mimicked, shouldering his bag and tipping his head towards you. “See you tomorrow.”

“Um, ok. Have a good night, Matty.” You offered, relaxing slightly when he smiled back at you.

“You too, bug.” As he escaped the harrowing atmosphere, he heard Everett's seemingly innocent question.

“Bug?” The pure envy dripping from the word was enough to break Matt's face into a proud smirk. 

Seemingly unaware of the budding rivalry, you laughed. 'It's a long story.“ 

Swiping his cane along the ground forcefully, Matt gulped in the chilly autumn air in an attempt to soothe his pounding heart. The scent of your and Everett’s combined arousal lingered on his coat, in his nose, across his tongue. Every inhale fueled his rage, and he needed to let it out. 

Thankfully, there was a place that could offer him solace despite the late hour. 

Plastic tapping along asphalt, he masterfully wove through the crowds and down the streets until reaching the musty building he'd been searching for. The door was ajar, propped open with a mop bucket. Steel hinges creaked as he pried open the door, stepping around the cleaning supplies and into the familiar space. 

Taking careful steps across the damp concrete, he let his eyes fall closed as the sounds of swinging chains and the ever-present scent of sweat brought him back to his childhood. Blurry images of men with comically red gloves and worn vinyl punching bags flashed through his mind, interspersed with a fading picture of his late father. Swallowing roughly, he continued his march into the empty space, running a hand over the eroded ropes in the center of the room. 

”Sorry kid, we're closed,“ A gruff voice broke through the silence. 

Shuffling away from the boxing ring, Matt raised a hand in apology. “Sorry, uh, it's been a while since I—“

“You're Battlin' Jack's boy, ain't ya?” The older man cut him off, stepping towards Matt and giving him a once over. 

Matt's jaw trembled with emotion, but he nodded slowly. “Uh, yes sir, I am.” 

“Been a long time since I've seen ya 'round, kid. Life been good to ya?“ The janitor asked, swiping the mop head across the floor and diverting his gaze from Matt. 

”It's been alright. The gym doing ok?“ Shifting from foot to foot, Matt suddenly felt exposed. It had been foolish to assume this place would welcome him back in the middle of the night.

”Not too bad, had to cut our hours though. Ya know how it is.“ 

Matt nodded politely. ”I understand. I'm sorry to intrude,“ Grasping his cane, he started for the door but the older man stopped him.

”Wait, wait. I ain't gonna kick ya out, kid. You're practically family, come here whenever ya'd like.“ 

”Are you sure? I don't want to impose.“ 

”Course I'm sure. I've gotta head home—just lock up for me, will ya?” 

Heavy steps shuffled closer to Matt, an outstretched hand offering a worn key. Accepting the jagged brass object, a bloom of warmth filled Matt's chest. “Oh I...I mean—”

The man laughed heartily. ”It ain't gonna bite ya. Just don't leave the lights on too long and we're golden.“ 

”I'm sure that won't be a problem.“ Matt snorted.

Chuckling deeply, the other man clapped him on the shoulder. ”Fair enough. Use the key whenever you'd like, kid. Don't be a stranger.“ 

”Thank you, um...“

”Ron, Ron Clark. Nice to see ya again.“ 

”Thank you, Ron. Have a good night.“

”You too.“ Another squeeze of Matt's shoulder and the other man headed out. 

Standing still for a moment, Matt turned the key over in his palm, savoring the swell of pride and gratitude before slipping the chunk of metal into his pocket and stripping out of his coat. 

It hadn't been too long since he'd trained, but he was definitely rusty. His muscles practically shrieked beneath his skin as he ran through some exercises Stick used to drill him with, stationed at a spare punching bag. The punches he threw were wobbly and his stance was crooked, but the repetitive motion still began to drain the tension from his shoulders. 

Adjusting his position, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he fell back into a familiar rhythm. The solid weight of the sand against his knuckles chipped away at the darkness that had been swirling around him for days. Each hit was deliberate and, telling himself it was just to work on his accuracy, he started envisioning Everett's face being pummeled by his fists. Though he'd never seen it, Matt was more than happy bombarding the vague idea of your boyfriend with precise hits. 

Everett. Evs. The boy who swept you off your feet before Matt could even work up the nerve to tell you how he felt. A man who simultaneously paid Matt no mind and was far too invested in the blind man's connection to you. Were his feelings for you so obvious that your boyfriend felt the need to drive a wedge between the pair of you? 

You never seemed to mind Matt's flirting and general touchiness, though he wasn't sure if you were aware that you drew that side of him out more often than anyone else. Everett seemed to know, given the way he had so easily marked your delicate skin. 

Growling, Matt drove his hands into the swinging cylinder with more force. Was Everett the only guy allowed to hangout with you? To hug you? To rest your head against his shoulder? He could mark you up all he wanted, it wouldn't stop Matt from holding your hand or kissing your cheek or thinking about kissing every goddamn inch of you as your heart pounded. 

Anger churned in his gut at the thought of the cocky 3rd year claiming every inch of you, drawing sounds out of you that Matt could only imagine. 

His cock twitched as he fantasized. What would it be like to claim you as his, have you wrapped around him—underneath him. Would you sound like any of the other girls he'd been with? There was no doubt you'd sound sweeter. Mewling at his touches, screaming his name when he inevitably made you climax. 

Panting breathlessly as phantom cries of pleasure ricocheted off the perimeter of his skull, Matt's logic and consideration flew out the window as he ripped off his tight jeans—all thoughts centered on your gorgeous figure and how you already responded to him. 

Your past relationships had been so underwhelming that a few hickeys got you riled up? Matt could blow that out of the water. He doubted Everett was a very giving partner, he'd have to make that up to you. Would you want him to please you? To taste you? Matt was sure you tasted divine.

His back arched off of the cool concrete as he came, hand unwittingly wrapped around his cock. As his arousal faded, guilt came crashing in. He couldn't help if thoughts of you slipped in when he touched himself in the comforts of his room but coming in public at the idea of tasting you? He needed help. 

Blushing furiously, he ran to the locker rooms to clean himself up.

Shaking her head at the sound of mischievous giggling, Maggie pinched out the last of the candles and began walking toward the double doors. “You know, this is your last chance to leave the chapel before the ghosts arrive.” She spoke calmly, not turning her head toward the two boys crouched behind a pew to her left.

A small, hesitant voice piped up. ”Ghosts?“ The other boy shushed the first, resulting in a small scuffle. 

Stifling a smile, she nodded gravely, pausing by an empty pew within eyesight of the troublemakers. “That's right. Darn building is full of them. Nasty little spirits who like to haunt little boys.”

“They what!!?” One of the boys asked, horrified. 

“Yep. They like to chase them around, pull out their hair, and force them to eat vegetables.”

Shrieking, the young boys darted out from behind the bench and ran quickly out the door towards the dormitory. 

Preening at her accomplishment, she was about to lock up when a new voice startled her. 

“Still using the ghost method, huh?”

Whirling around, she brought a hand up to rest on her heart when she recognized the young man before her. Huffing out an irritated breath, she greeted him. “Matthew.”

Nervously, he returned the curt nod she gave him. “Sister.”

“It's nice to see you, though I will be the first to tell you we do not have space to board grown men.”

Chuckling, Matt adjusted his grip on his cane. “Your faith in me is endless, Sister. I still have a place to live, I just came for confession.”

Crossing her arms, Maggie raised a brow. “It's a bit late for confession, Matthew. Come back tomorrow.”

”I know it's late, I just—“

“Matthew,” Father Lantom appeared in the entrance to the chapel, expression and tone much more appreciative of Matt's presence than Maggie seemed. “It's nice to see you, son. How is it out there?”

Smiling proudly, Matt leaned into the hand Lantom placed on his shoulder. “It's wonderful, Father. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, I'll come back tomorrow like Sister Maggie suggested.” The Father's grasp on his arm tightened marginally. 

”Nonsense. You are always welcome here. Did you want to sit in the Confessional, or can I offer you a cup of tea first?“ 

Jaw tightening as his ears rang with Maggie's incredulous scoff, he shook his head. “No, I shouldn't have come, I—“

“Maggie, would you mind lighting a few candles? Matthew, have a seat. I'll be back with something for you to drink. Is chamomile ok?”

Nodding apprehensively, Matt shuffled over to a bench and sat down, turning the foam handle of his cane in his palms as Lantom headed off. 

His pulse pounded in the tense silence as Maggie lit three of the lanterns closest to him. 

“I'm sorry, Sister, I wasn't thinking—” 

“You weren't. Though it seems the Father is still happy to indulge your whims, even if you aren't our responsibility any more.”

Ducking his head in embarrassment, Matt chewed the inside of his cheek, the Sister's scolding stoking his towering flames of guilt. “I can still leave.”

“I think the time for that has passed, Matthew.” Sitting at the opposite end of the pew, she sighed. “Is school everything you hoped for?”

The question was an obvious olive branch, and Matt accepted it gratefully. “It's a very different environment. Full of sin, you'd hate it.”

Maggie chuckled, weaving her fingers together and studying the boy. He looked well enough, apprehensive and ashamed, sure, but fed and rested. He'd clearly been taking decent care of himself, which is more than she could've asked for. 

Firm steps echoed in the cavernous building as Lantom returned, holding a carefully balanced tray of three ceramic cups. “Maggie, I assume you'll be joining us?” He gave her a pointed look and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

“I'd love to.” She smiled, accepting one of the steaming cups. 

Matt smirked at her exaggerated apathy, accepting his own drink. “Thank you both. I'm sorry for my timing.” 

“Our doors are always open for you, Matthew. What did you feel the need to confess?”

Blushing at the reminder of his unholy actions, he sighed. “I've been...preoccupied as of late, with...impure thoughts. And I'm not quite sure how to reconcile that.” 

Listening to Maggie's heart stutter, it seemed she was equally uncomfortable with her presence in this conversation, yet she made no attempt to leave.

Father Lantom, on the other hand, nodded thoughtfully. “Sinful thoughts are different from sinful actions Matthew. Our minds cannot be controlled to the same degree.”

“I know that, it's just...” Scrubbing a hand over his face, Matt grit his teeth in frustration. “These thoughts, they're mostly about one girl. And they've become more frequent since she began dating someone else.” 

“You're close with this girl?” Lantom asked, tilting his head in brief understanding. 

Matt nodded mournfully, raking fingers through his hair. “Very. She's one of two friends I have and one of the best people I've ever known. But, lately, I can't even be in the same room as her without getting angry because...because she's not mine.” 

Maggie blew out an exasperated breath. “Women are not possessions, Matthew.” 

“I know that! I just mean,I—” Spluttering, Matt failed to find the words to justify his admission. God, he was just as bad as Everett.

“Take a breath, my child.” Father Lantom instructed. “Have you told this girl how you feel?” 

Shaking his head, eyes wide, Matt's words were more forceful than intended. “No, God no!”

“Language.” Maggie scolded. 

“Forgive me, Sister. I'm just...terrified that I'll lose her. And I feel like I can no longer control myself, which means I might lose her anyways.” Blinking rapidly to dry the tears forming in his eyes, Matt snapped his jaw shut before his emotions began to crack the steadiness of his voice. 

“Quite the predicament you've landed yourself in, poor boy.” Lantom squeezed Matt's forearm reassuringly, gazing upwards in thought. “As uncertain as it can seem, His plan for us is often for our own good, Matthew. Perhaps, your friend's involvement with another is a path for you to settle for the friendship you have, at least for the time being.”

“If that was his plan, then why does it feel like she's slipping away?” His words were quiet, dense with fear and shame. 

“Love makes people do stupid things, Matthew,” Maggie remarked. “Does she know that you think she's been distant?”

“No,” Matt admitted. 

“Tell her then, you ridiculous boy.” Maggie encouraged, voice softening as she added, “If she chooses to change her behavior, well, it's up to you how to proceed.”

Lantom nodded, “As for your own thoughts, that's a bit tricky. Speaking with her and focusing on a platonic relationship might help, it might not. Remember that God searches the heart and tests the mind, this might simply be a test of your connection to this woman or of your own patience.”

“He is definitely testing my patience.” Matt muttered, drawing laughs out of both Maggie and Lantom. “Thank you both for listening, and for your assistance. I'll get out of your hair now.” 

“It was lovely to see you, Matthew. We can discuss the outcome of your conversation the next time you attend Mass.” The pastor stood, allowing Matt to exit the pew. 

“Take care, Matthew.” Maggie lifted a hand in goodbye as the two watched the younger boy retreat.

Thank you for reading my lovelies!

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe@abbyhaslongshorts@mrs-bellingham@abucketofweird@yeonalie@jadeunstablexx@spider-murdock@0ctober-writes@danzer8705

[graceful-not]

SORRY IM INSANE??????? WHAJT THE FUCK??? I CANT EVEN FOCUS ON WHATEVE NYA AND JAY ARE DOING RIGHT NOW THERE'S ANOTHER FUCKING ZANE???? MY BOY???? EXHO???? DI WE EVER SEE HIM AGAIN??? ISTG IF THEY JUST LEAVE HIM IN THIS LIGHTHOUSE AFTER THIS WHY ARE THEY NOT FREAKING OUT?!?????? HE WAS STUCK HERE THIS WHOLE TIME?? WHY DID DR JULIEN NOT SAY ANYTHING IM INSANE?!?!?? HES SO RUSTED IM. I. ok I actually really like the steampunk vibes VS zanes more modern ones but HUH???? JULIEN JUST LEFT HIM HERE?!?!??? ok good they're fixinyg him up but ????? WHYAT???? I LITERALLY. HUH. HUH SO DOES ZANE HAVE ABROTHER THEN??? IVR NEVRR HEARD OF TJIS GUY WHICH MEANS HE ISNT RLLY IMPORTANT BUT I. THERE ARE SO MABY GODDAMN IMPLICATIONS THIS SHOULD BE SO IMPORTANT I. WHY ARE THEY BRUSHING THIS OFF??? I UUST GOOGLED IT AJD HE WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE AN ARC BUT IT WAS TOO COMPLIXATED SO THEY CUT IT??? WHY ADD HIM??? THE ROLE COULD BE FULFILLED BY TAI-D WHY WOULD YOU GIVE ME TJIS AND THEM RIP IT AWAY FRO ME. IM SO WORKED UP IM DOING THE FLAPPY HAND STIM AND I /NEVER/ DO THE FLAPPY HAND STIM. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK. IM INSANE ABOUT ECJO?? AND THEN THEY JUST LEAVE HIM??? I DJONT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT NADAKHAN WHRE IS MY BOY? MY SON?? WAS HE JUST IN THE SECRET BASEMENT WHILE JULIEN GREETED THE OG ZANE?!?????? I CAN'T DO THID WHAT THE FUCK. THIS IS SO TRAGIC. WHERE IS HE GIVE HIM BACK TO.ME. WHY WERE THEY ACTING LIKE HES JUST SOME CONVENIENT WEAPON OR TOOL HES A WHOLE ASS PERSON?? LIKE THEYRE SO NONCHALANT ABOUT IT ALL "aww awesome we have another Zane at our disposal!" HES A WHOLR PERSON. HE HAS FEEKINGS??? LIKE HE FEELS THINGS HES NOT JUST A COOL WEAPON??? IF THAT WAS A HUMAN CHILD THEYD HAVE BROUGHT HIM WITH THEM???? I CANT DO THIS WHAT THE FUCK

ECHO ECHO ECHO MY SON IS BACK MY BOY MY SON MY DARLING MY SWEETHEAR COME HERE I NEED TO PICK YOU UP AND KISSYS YOU. he seems. okay with being in there??? has he ever left the lighthouse??????? does he KNOW what's out there??? HE CANT HAVE UNTIL JULIEN LEFT BC OF THE KRAKEN THING SO??? HAS HE EXPLORED SINCE THEN IS THAT WHY HE SEEMS SO CONTENT THERE??? HE DOESNT MIND BEING LEFT THERE?!???? I DONT UNDERTSTAND. HES JUST CHILL. LIKE *salutes* yessir! NO ECHO!! ASJ QUESTIONS!! I LOVE YOU BUT RHAT WHOLE SEQUENCE WAS FOR NO REASON HE ADDS NOTHING TO THE REPLACEMENT NINJA TEAMM. WHY DID THEY GIVE ME THIS WHOLE ASS CHARACTER WITH 300000 IMPLICATIONS AND THEN JUST NOT MAKE HIM RELEVANT AT ALL!! HE DIDNT EVER NEED TO BE THERE I HONESTLY WISH HE DIDNT EXIST BC NOW IM GONNA BE THINKING ABT HIM FOREVER!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!! ZANE WHY ARE YOU CHILL ABOUT HIS EXISTENCE "I see you brought some friends" YOU SHOULD BE FREAKING YOUR SHIT RIGHT NOW!!!! WHAT THE FUCK???? YOUR DAD BUILT THAT DUDE THATS SO FUCKED UP. TJATS UR BROTHER. THATSUR FUCKING BROHTER. AND THEN THEY JUST RESET TIME???? SO HES STILL IN THAT GODDAMN LIGHTHOUSE IM INSANE??? HES STILL IN THERE IS HE FUCKING ALIVE??!???? WHAT??? IS HE OKAY??? IM INSANE IM LITERALLY INSANE. AND UR TELLING ME TJEY NEVER MENTION OR DO ANYTHING WITH HIM AGAIN?!??? IM INSANE ABOUT THIS. IM INSANE. I CANT DO THIS WHAT THEFUCKN????? AUUAUAUAU. WHAT? HUH. WHATA???I need to find contebt of him right nowwhy is it all just shipping with Morro. good for them I guess but I don't CARE about the gay ghost what the FUCK is echos DEAL!!! WHAT IS UP WITH HIM???? ITS LITERALY ALL CITRUSSHIPPING ART WHERE IS ANY SPECULATIVE LORE??? WHAT ABOUT HIM AND ZANE WHATS THEYRE DEAL WHAT IF THEY METM WOULD TJEY BE BROTHERS?? IM HAVING SO MANY THOUGHTS RIGHT NOW. Zane deserves a little bro dude... another one I mean. falcon and Tai-D can be bestfriends. I'm insane I'm fucking insane. I love Morro and all but goddamn that's really all there is here shdbsjdb. it's cute and all but very "what if errytjung was ok and they were alive and we didn't have to worry about canon" but WHAT ABOUT THE OTHERS??? DO JAY ABD NYA JUST NEVER TELL ANYONE?!?!?? THATS A WHOLE ASS SAPIENT BEING??? HES LITERALY CONSCIOUS??? WHAT THE FUCK. YOU LEFT A WHOLE ASS PERSON BEHIND THATS SO FUCKED UP. IM INSANE.

[endless-summer-soldier]

dr. feelgood - chapter four

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

warnings: must be 18+, drinking, some surgery descriptions, smut, self-pleasure, praise kink, very minor character death, unprotected sex, rough sex

word count: 2.1k

series playlist: here

taglist: @sebsgirl71479 @ozwriterchick @notmeddy @drewsuncrustables @lokidokieokie @hextech-bros @nats-whore @m4nulup1n @arcanebabe @tanyaspartak @jackiehollanderr @princezzjasmine @fallenlilangel99 @pono-pura-vida @mavrellover91 @milanaasblog (message me to be added!)

series masterlist

It had been two weeks since the “incident” with Bucky. I had been avoiding him as much as possible but managed to keep things professional when I did have to interact with him. 

Today most of the interns were sitting in the gallery preparing to watch Dr. Stark perform an open heart surgery. This was the most intense surgery since I started and we were all eager to watch his technique.

As Stark finished scrubbing, he entered the OR and started dancing around the patient, jamming to Metallica. And then I smelled it. Honeycrisp apples. I had an immediate reaction, remembering my tryst with Bucky, and I felt my underwear dampen ever so slightly.

“Did I miss anything?” Bucky whispered in my ear, as he took another bite of his apple.

“He’s just getting started,” I replied, refusing to look at him.

Stark cranked up the music as he called for the ten blade.

“Why don’t we get to listen to music and dance in your OR?” I joked.

He scoffed, “I hate that he does this. He loves to put on a show and entertain. He’s brilliant but he thinks more about himself than his patients.”

“Mmm,” I said, snacking on a pretzel and trying not to engage further.

“When I was in Afghanistan, there was no music. Hell we barely had the proper tools. We were operating on the battlefield with whatever we could carry on our backs. And he will never understand that. So yes, it drives me crazy that he takes all this for granted.”

He seemed worked up and he made a really great point. While it seemed fun to be in Stark’s OR, he did seem a little flashy considering he was conducting heart surgery.

“How long did you serve?”

“I was enlisted for twelve years, but some of that time was spent in medical school. I was overseas for…six years.”

“Thank you for your service,” I said, looking at him for the first time.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“As fun as it looks in there, I’d much rather be scrubbed in with you,” I said. It was a genuine comment, not flirty. I respected that he valued everything at his disposal and worked with the sole interest of the patient in mind.

“You just like watching me scrub,” he flirted, changing the tone.

“There’s nothing I like more than a clean man,” I joked. He genuinely chuckled and took another bite of his apple.

As Stark continued on with the surgery, he kept looking up at his crowd and making eyes with all of us, as if showing off. I could practically feel Bucky rolling his eyes next to me. A few minutes later he leaned in and said, “I think I’ve had enough of this.” I felt him stand up and leave the room, bored with the procedure. I found that I wasn’t far behind him. Bucky had shown a light on this surgery that I hadn’t thought of before. And so, I finished my bag of pretzels and left to go check on some of my patients. 

As I reached the nurses’ station, Bucky appeared at my side and said, “We got a case coming into the ER. A homeless man was sleeping in a dumpster and got picked up by a trash truck. Multiple injuries, you want in?”

“Absolutely.”

It was my first bad day in the hospital. It was bound to happen eventually, but I didn’t think it would impact me this much. I was assigned to Dr. Strange’s service today to complete a tumor resection. Our patient’s name was Jarvis. Despite having the name of a butler, Jarvis was in his early forties and was an absolute delight of a patient. He was polite and asked good medical questions, but he also made an attempt to get to know all the doctors and nurses tending to him. He shared with me that he was a computer programmer and was fascinated by all the technology we used at the hospital. He somehow managed to gain the respect of Strange, which was impressive considering most doctors in the hospital hadn’t even tackled that feat.

And after spending the last week in the hospital, greeting me warmly every morning, he died in surgery. I knew better than to get attached, and I wouldn’t say that I was, but I was fond of the guy. He was young and had his whole life ahead of him. He was planning to express his feelings to the woman he was secretly in love with after his surgery. But he would never get that chance; he wouldn’t wake up. Strange called time of death cavalierly, as if we hadn’t been joking around with him hours before. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to dissociate like that.

After my shift ended, I went to Pym’s, the bar across the street. The last thing I wanted was to ponder my thoughts alone in my apartment.

“Whatcha havin?” Scott, the owner of the bar, asked. A lot of the hospital staff frequented the establishment which meant we were all on a first name basis with Scott.

“Tullamore Dew, neat.” Scott gave me a surprised look before pouring the Irish whiskey.

“Long day?” he asked.

I nodded, “Something like that.” He gave me a sad smile and added a little extra to the rocks glass in front of me.

“Thanks Scott.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.” He read people so well. When I came in with a smile on my face and ordered tequila, he would chat with me and ask about my life and the hospital. But today he gave me some space, which was appreciated.

I took a long swig of whiskey and let out a deep breath, trying to forget the events of the day.

“Drinking whiskey? That can’t be good.” I felt someone sit in the seat next to me and glanced over to find Bucky.

“Hi Dr. Barnes,” I said, turning my attention back to my drink.

“Doll, we’re outside of work. Call me Bucky.”

“Yeah whatever,” I muttered. He flagged down Scott and pointed to my drink, as if to say I’ll have what she’s having.  

Once the drink was in front of him, he said, “So what are we drinking to tonight?”

I stayed quiet for a while, searching my whiskey for answers, before I decided to talk.

“Does it ever get easier?” I asked, turning for the first time to face Bucky.

He looked into my eyes and seemingly understood my predicament. 

He shook his head and looked down to his drink, “No it doesn’t.”

“I just didn’t think it would be this hard, you know? They covered all this in med school. We talked about the emotional toll this job takes and we practiced breaking the news to family members, but…I don’t think anything could’ve prepared me for the real thing.”

“It’s by far the worst part of the job. And everytime it happens, you feel like shit. Sometimes it's worse than usual. And then sometimes you sort of become numb to it. But no matter how numb you get, there will always be another case that makes you question your career.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” I asked, taking another sip of my drink.

“Hey, I’m just telling you the truth.”

“I do appreciate that. Better than sugar coating it.”

“There is one thing I’ve found that helps me.”

“What’s that?”

“I either come here or I make myself a drink at home. And I think about that person’s life. The highs, the lows, their family, friends, and then I think through the surgery. And I ask myself, is there anything I should’ve done differently. Sometimes there are things you could’ve changed, other times it was bound to happen. And you learn from it. You give yourself time to be upset, let it out. And then you move forward.”

His advice was oddly insightful.

“You're welcome for sharing that, by the way. Took me years to get into a good routine. And maybe that doesn’t work for you, but you need to find a way to reflect productively.”

“Thank you, really.”

“Do you want to talk about them?”

I nodded, “His name was Jarvis. He was an absolute pleasure to be around. He was so respectful of everyone working on his case. He never buzzed the nurses when he needed something because he knew how busy they were and he didn’t want to give them more work to do. He asked really insightful questions when we walked through the procedure; he had clearly done his research. And everytime I went in to check on him before the surgery, he asked me how I was doing. He asked what my plans were for the evening. He saw me as a human being, not just a doctor.”

“What was he in for?”

“Brain tumor. Not easy to remove, but Strange was confident he could get it. And he was close, but…” I couldn’t continue, and Bucky seemed to understand.

I was surprised to feel his hand on my back, gently rubbing up and down.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Thanks for sitting here and listening to me.”

“Any time. And hey, just remember how many people we do help. This job isn’t easy, but the wins are what keep us going.”

I nodded and finished my drink, and thought about my next move. 

“You heading home?” he asked me. He had nearly finished his drink.

“I’ll stay for one more,” I smiled. He nodded and called to Scott, asking for another round. “Why don’t you tell me about your day?”

“Oh well, strap in because you are about to be very impressed.” I appreciated him changing the mood to one of levity. It served as a great distraction, even if he was over exaggerating his successes. He continued to throw in jokes, and compliments, in an attempt to make me smile, which worked like a charm.

We spent the remainder of the drink talking about the surgery he completed that day. I asked him questions and pictured his procedure in my head, wishing I had been with him in the OR instead of assigned to Strange.

Our glasses were empty and Bucky instinctively handed over his credit card to pay for our rounds, despite my protests. “You’re an intern, I know how much you make. Take the free drinks,” he argued. He settled up the bill and we collected our things, departing our local bar.

“Can I walk you to your car?” he asked me.

I thought about protesting, declaring myself an independent woman who could care for herself. But I found I didn’t have the fight in me today. 

“Sure,” I smiled. We walked toward the parking lot of the hospital in comfortable silence. When we reached my car, there was a moment. We looked at each other and I could sense him reading me, trying to figure out his next move. The tension between us was high, and I genuinely considered giving into my pining. It would be nice to have some company tonight, even if it was just to share a glass of wine and partake in some innocent cuddling. But there was nothing innocent about Bucky Barnes, and inviting him into my home would be like asking in a vampire: my defenses against his seduction would be useless and I’d wake up with bruises on my neck.

“Thanks Buck,” I eventually said, unlocking my car.

“Any time,” he said, as he took a careful step backwards. “You working tomorrow?” he added.

I simply nodded and gave him a soft smile.

“Good, I’m requesting you for my service. We’re gonna save some lives.”

Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t sleep. I contemplated another whiskey, but was keen to avoid a hangover in the morning. Instead, my eyes were affixed to the ceiling as I half-heartedly listened to a podcast in an attempt to lull me to sleep.

What puzzled me was that I wasn’t up thinking about Jarvis, I was thinking about Bucky. He provided the exact support that I needed in my moment of despair, proving he was more than just a good lay. Suddenly, the line between personal and professional didn’t seem so clear.

Sure, it was unethical to get involved with a superior, but it must’ve happened in hospitals all the time. Surgeons spend a majority of their time in the hospital, fraternization must be commonplace. It didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore. Who cares about what other people think, shouldn’t my happiness come first?

Before I realized what was happening, my fingers were inside of me and a moan was escaping my lips. Bucky was on my mind, in every position imaginable. Pumping vigorously, then slowly. His lips on my neck, his tongue circling my ear. His musky scent penetrating my nasal cavity. The thought of it was all too much, and I came undone so easily. As I was gently overcome by sleep, I knew that things had changed and I was in trouble.

next chapter

[weirdmageddon]

aspects and platonic realism in homestuck

ruh roh im stoned again time to get uber philosophical more than i already am at baseline. i was thinking about this video again and man. i dont think people consider the aspects enough in terms of the fact that they are fundamental building blocks of the homestuck reality in the way that periodic elements and physics are to us. or even closer to what classical elements were to ancient greeks (hero of fire / hero of water / hero of aether). we see aspects not directly. we see objects directly but these objects are created from the influence of aspects.

some tangible things are closer to the “essence” of what falls into an aspect’s domain to define it. like a gust of wind or a breeze is a physical analogy for the aspect of breath. in homestuck’s reality, how breath manifests itself in a metanarrative sense is representing a functional plot-driven story. john’s liking for fast-paced action movies and worldbuilding with very little emphasis on relationships and characters. the beginning of homestuck in itself embodies much of the breath aspect in a narrative sense. the trolls are influenced by the blood aspect since their plot is moved by relationships, dramas, interpersonal dynamics rather than a primarily detached functional-driven plot like acts 1-4. from a metanarrative take, along with blood, breath represents how the author intends to tell or convey the story, if they choose elements that emphasize the detached (breath) or elements emphasizing connection (blood). the perpendicular axis to breath-blood is space-time, which metanarratively represents the setting and the events in the story. but these metanarrative manifestations of the aspects are just another imperfect angle to view their platonic essence in. each aspect dichotomy is like a different lens of thinking about reality through.

media tends to have some aspect dichotomy focus it thematically revolves around above all else. of course every media contains elements of all aspects. for example every narrative must have setting and events, which is why space and time are absolutely necessary.

the legend of zelda: breath of the wild and tears of the kingdom pull a lot of themes from the breath/blood dichotomy overall, and secondarily space and time. botw has story, gameplay, and themes drawing heavily from breath and space. totk in contrast has story, gameplay, and themes drawing heavily from blood and time.

gravity falls focuses heavily through the light/void dichotomy lens. with plot points all focusing heavily around knowledge and secrets, relevance and irrelevance. shining a light in a dark space, symbolism, clarity, and meaninglessness, confusion, obscuring truth (bill, society of the blind eye). even though all aspect dichotomies show up in all media recursively at metaphysical levels, breath and blood aren’t as dominant overall in gravity falls as it is for the latter i mentioned

“in the furthest ring, platonic forms are real. they are the base classes that paradox space builds reality out of. whereas modern physics breaks down reality into the physically irreducible, homestuck breaks down reality into what rose calls the “notionally irreducible”. and just as fundamental particles are to the periodic table of elements, aspects are to this system’s irreducible forms. the 12 aspects are the building blocks of thought, and where we, in our universe, might make a distinction between thought and reality, paradox space doesn’t seem very concerned. as we’ll see, homestuck wants us to convince us that our thoughts create the world around us, and the aspect system is just another way to work towards that goal.

in a traditional rpg, classes are about specialization and tools at your disposal. in zelda games, titles/classes such as “hero of time” or “hero of wind” is less as a specialization but more of a prophecy. it has no bearing on any quality of the game’s mechanics but instead is being used as a tool for the narrative. and it works; there’s a reason that cryptic prophecies are so widely used in storytelling. they foreshadow the rest of the story without giving it away and they give the reader/viewer/player a framework from which they can continuously place the story and its unfolding into perspective. in a zelda game, it’s even more effective because it is framing the player’s own actions making them feel like they’re a part of something bigger than themselves. in addition, it can be interpreted by the player as a challenge to them personally so that, in overcoming the challenge presented to them, they feel a sense of personal satisfaction at living up to the role. it’s one of many, many qualities that make zelda games feel epic and timeless.

homestuck, being a traditional narrative which involves a multiplayer game is able to take the best qualities of both the class system in an rpg and the titles of a zelda game and use those to create the class and aspect system.

characters playing the game are seemingly assigned a title just like in zelda. in fact, they sound identical to zelda. one might find themselves refered to as the “hero of doom” or a “hero of void”. like a zelda game, these describe the tools that the players will use to live up to their prophecized roles, except the tools in this sense are aspects.”

(Aspects and Platonic Realism in Homestuck)

that is, the tools in this sense are the fundamental building blocks of reality.

when a player is assigned an aspect, one even as abstract as “rage”, they are being assigned to be a servant of a fundamental property, force, or matter of reality. maid of rage (serving the platonic fundamental property of rage) would in our world be like, equivalent to a servant of electromagnetism. except with homestuck these are platonic forces

[avaisnerdytoo]

What makes C-137 Rick different in the eyes of Evil Morty? A simple list.

I had this drafted around when the episode came out and I hadn't finished it, sooooo here you go heh:

This is arguably a pretty obvious set of answers, I'm not making any big deep dives here or anything, but I felt curious enough in wanting to see some kind of realized list of how many ways our Rick is different from his counterparts, specifically to the eyes of Evil Morty, that's to say, within the show, what kind of interactions have made Evil Morty slowly chip away in his absolute ideas about our Rick specifically.

Contains content since season 1, but mostly Season 7 due to the amount of interactions.

Bullet point is the actual list, indented is additional, but optional, context I deemed valuable:

C-137 Crying: Obviously the first would be Evil Morty - through Evil Rick - seeing our Rick cry when seeing baby Morty, even if we don't have that explained yet, this genuine care that shocked E-M this much was only reinforced in Season 7 when Rick, just before going to hunt Rick Prime told Morty he "couldn't go", evidently so that he stays safe.

This is extra reinforced when Evil Morty and Morty Prime join Rick against our big bad, E-M throws an insult right away expecting the reason for Rick's frustration to be "they did something cool and I didn't" (a jump cut), but no, C-137 only says... "You brought Morty???"

Evil Morty is a Morty registered within the Council's data base, he's been passed around, probably adopted by various Ricks, of whom clearly view that service as a tool to reinforce their detachments. Even if there is a petty and truly emotional reason underneath the existence of such a program, the Morties in those centers only see the very worst of Rick, because that's who they are paired up with, they only see how disposable they are every single time, time and time again.

C-137's respect of Evil Morty: Right away as S7EP5 begins, and E-M joins in with our duo, he's immediately greeted with what I am willing to bet is a different kind of attitude, one of respect. Rick is not dissmisive of Evil Morty, granted he knows his capabilities, however he even compliments Evil Morty on his journey to fucking off, a life style he very much enjoys - supposedly, but still - this is reinforced the moment Evil Morty suggests the modifications to the fracking machine, one which Rick takes notice of an implements right away, no insult attached interestingly enough.

That respect is also seen after Rick connects the dots with Evil Morty being responsible for hacking his Portal gun, back in Season 5, a detail which most Rick's would've arrogantly shrugged off by underestimating Morty. I am not saying respect can't be earned from other Ricks, after all he was president, but I am focusing the basis of this on Evil Morty's absolutist mindset regarding how Ricks are meant to be.

Teamwork: Although Rick points out the same logic we as the audience and fans did in theories prior to Season 7, regarding the assumption Evil Morty would hate Rick Prime more than our Rick because he's even worse, the actual teamwork simply plays out naturally, first through circumstance, but then by convenience. Nonetheless in each step Rick is once again cooperative with Evil Morty, treating him like an equal in a way that I think we haven't really ever seen before besides Beth, and sorta Summer.

I feel it's no small detail that E-M's first instinct after grabbing the Portal guns they were quickly tinkering with to escape the box was "don't freak out", the subsequent lack of freaking out also reinforces all of the shit I'm repeating myself on haha, again list of the obvious remember?

And finally the most obvious: C-137's goals are focused on avenging his Wife, as we well know. This singular detail already places him on a different bracket of existence as Rick's aren't meant to care for anyone other that themselves, even if this goal was the reason that fueled Rick's cooperation, signs of respect and more towards Evil Morty, he still did them... That would also technically place the other trapped Ricks, like Nerd Rick or James Bond Rick, as other challengers in Evil Morty's views.

This is how Evil Morty finally showed a crack in his absolutist views about Ricks.

•

"You are a little different, Rick..."

Maybe I can use that someday...

[mariacallous]

For years, I sat down to work each morning, realizing hours later that I felt drained, but got little done. Instead of writing, I spent my time texting, emailing, and mostly aimlessly browsing through news sites, blogs, and social networks. Every click triggered another. I tried to regain control by using an app called Freedom that blocked my computer online access for fixed periods of time. Sometimes it helped, especially when I had a work deadline looming. Sometimes it didn’t. But trying to control work time was only part of the struggle. I kept feeling the irresistible urge to pull out my phone wherever I went. At that point, I blamed myself. After all, I was the girl who spent hours playing video games well into college. But something happened in 2015 that made me realize that something much bigger was awry.

It was a Saturday evening when I arrived with my family to a friends’ home for dinner. Their 11-year-old son was playing with his parents’ iPad. When we came in, his parents demanded that he hand it over and join the other kids. The boy at first refused to hand it over. He then tried angrily to snatch it back from his mother, regressing to toddler-style wailing to demand the device. Throughout a long evening he exercised every manipulation tool in his power to regain control of the iPad. As I observed his parents’ despair, I recalled a family conflict that transpired at my parents’ house some years earlier. At that time doctors diagnosed my father, a heavy smoker, with emphysema. My father could have avoided his painful final years, hooked to an oxygen tank, by quitting smoking when he was diagnosed. He refused. We desperately tried to resist his decision by taking his cigarettes away. But like my friends’ son, my father reacted with uncharacteristic anger, exercising every means at his disposal to get his cigarette pack back.

That day I began to see how our present relates to our past. The past can answer one of today’s most perplexing problems. Why, despite multiple reports from Silicon Valley whistleblowers revealing that technology companies are using manipulative designs to prolong our time online, do we feel personally responsible? Why do we still blame ourselves and keep seeking new self-help methods to decrease our time online? We can learn from the past because in this case the tech companies did not innovate. Instead, the technology industry manipulated us following an old playbook, put together by other powerful industries, including the tobacco and food industries. 

When the tobacco and food industries confronted allegations that their products harmed their consumers, they defended themselves by raising the powerful American social icon of self-choice and personal responsibility. This meant emphasizing that consumers are free to make choices and, as a result, are responsible for the outcomes. Smokers and their families sued the tobacco industry for the devastation of smoking, including lung cancer and early death. But, for decades, they failed to win their lawsuits because the tobacco industry argued successfully that they chose to smoke and, therefore, they are responsible for the results. The food industry employed an identical strategy. When a group of teenagers sued McDonald’s because they suffered from obesity and diabetes after eating regularly at McDonald’s, McDonald’s also successfully raised the same claim. It argued that no one forced the teenagers to eat at McDonald’s, and since it was their choice, McDonald’s is not responsible for any health ramifications. The food industry went further. They successfully lobbied for laws known as the “cheeseburger laws” or more formally as the Commonsense Consumption Acts. Under these laws, food manufacturers and vendors cannot be held legally responsible for their consumers’ obesity. Why? Because the laws proclaim that this will foster a culture of consumer personal responsibility, which is important for promoting a healthy society.

The tobacco and food companies did not stop at just arguing directly that their consumers are responsible. They also provided new products to help them make better choices. In the 1950s, researchers published the first studies showing the connection between smoking and lung cancer.  In response, the tobacco companies offered consumers the option to choose a new healthier product: the filtered cigarette. They advertised it as “just what the doctor ordered,” claiming it removed nicotine and tar. Smokers went for it. Yet, they did not know that to compensate for the taste robbed by the filtered cigarette, companies used stronger tobacco that yielded as much nicotine and tar as the unfiltered brands. Here as well, the food industry followed suit. It also offered tools to reinforce that its consumers are in control. Facing criticism of the low nutritional value of their products, food manufacturers added products called “Eating Right” and “Healthy Choice.” While giving consumers the illusion they were making better choices, the diet product lines often made little improvement over the original products.

The tech industry is already applying this strategy by appealing to our deeply ingrained cultural beliefs of personal choice and responsibility. Tech companies do this directly when faced with allegations that they are addicting users. When the US Federal Trade Commission evaluated restricting use of loot boxes, an addictive feature common in video games, video game manufacturers argued: “No one is forced to spend money on a video game that is free to play. They choose what they want to spend and when they want to spend it and how they want to spend it.” But the technology industry also does it indirectly by providing us with tools to enhance our illusion of control. They give us tools like Apple’s Screen Time, which notifies us how much time we spend on screens. They also allow us to restrict time on certain apps, but then we can override these restrictions. We can choose to set our phones on “do not disturb” or “focus times.” We can set Instagram to remind us to take breaks. Yet, screen time continues to creep up. These tools are not successful, because just like the “filtered cigarette” and the “healthy choice” food products, they are not meant to solve the problem. Tech companies did not eliminate the addictive designs that keep prolonging our time online. The goal of these products, also known as digital well-being tools, was to keep the blame ball in our court, as we unsuccessfully face devices and apps that manipulatively entice us to stay on.

Awareness is crucial to stop blaming ourselves, but learning how the battles of the past played out also provides a rich repository for future action. Importantly, it exposes the vulnerabilities of the technology industry’s self-choice and responsibility argument. How? For one, when evidence comes out that businesses intended to addict consumers, it often defeats the industry’s argument that consumers voluntarily chose the products and are responsible for the consequences. In the 1990s, information leaking out of the tobacco companies’ fortress revealed that the tobacco industry knew that nicotine was addictive and manipulated it to maximize consumption by smokers. It was then that courts began attributing more responsibility to the tobacco industry, and smokers finally started winning cases. This is directly relevant today as whistleblowers report that tech companies purposefully addicted their users to prolong their time online, while choosing to ignore the harms. Second, children are the Achilles’ heel of the personal choice and responsibility defense. While many object to making paternalistic choices for adults, choosing for children is acceptable. For example, kids are not allowed to purchase cigarettes. Legal action is already underway to protect kids from the harms of excessive screen time.

Parents are suing social media companies and gamemakers for addicting their kids and causing them mental harm. They are no longer alone. Recently, school systems sued for the costs of treating kids harmed by social networks. Representatives of the US Congress and state legislatures relentlessly propose bills to protect children. Proposals raise different solutions from  imposing liability on social networks should they fail to remove addictive features to prohibiting access to social media for kids. The past illustrates that the weakness of the personal choice and responsibility defense with regard to kids makes this path particularly likely to succeed.

We can also push against the technology industry’s business model. Under this model, we get products like Gmail and Instagram for free. Still we pay, though not in money. We pay with our time and data. In recent years, government agencies filed antitrust actions against Big Tech. If successful, these actions could destabilize the prevailing business model. For example, should an action against Meta, which currently holds Facebook, Instagram, and WhatsApp, succeed, and break it up, it will likely encourage competition. Competition could push toward alternative business models, such as subscriptions or pay-as-you-go. When a company’s business model does not rely on our time as its main resource, its need to design products that maximize our time online diminishes.

While a movement to battle technology is underway, it cannot rely on lawyers alone. Parents can influence schools to better assess and limit incorporation of technology into the classroom. Business owners can impact use of screens on their premises. For example, restaurant owners can decide not to replace menus with QR codes, thereby reducing the likelihood that patrons will take their phone out during the meal. Online entrepreneurs can opt for an alternative business model, one that is not based on advertising and user time. Technology designers can evaluate whether to design a feature aimed primarily at keeping users online for longer. We have many options to make a collective impact. Changing norms and business operations is possible. Looking at the past illustrates the possibilities of the future. We could never imagine bars without cigarettes, but they became our reality. So can a better-balanced tech future.

[simnostalgia]

Maybe it's just me getting older and more pessimistic but god, it's so hard to be on the side of any like movement that spearheaded almost entirely by 21 year olds who's main tactic is just like "attempt to (poorly) socially manipulate people into agreeing with our side" even if it's something you agree with. Mostly because you're not that well organized and someone is always going to be meaner and more importantly, better organized.

I think AI art is a great example of this. But like, it stands with almost any large scale online "hot topic" type controversy. Fast Fashion, true crime, etc.

Like they'll successfully notice the problem: AI art hurts artists. But there is no real actionable plan or goal. Like, what are we doing? Are we trying to help artists? Then let's do that! Because I'm seeing a lot of them being like "if you've ever TOUCHED Dall-e you're going to hell. Also you're a fucking LOSER and you're jealous of my art skills."

Okay, listen, babes. Some advice: when dealing with these kinds of controversies have

a realistic goal

an actionable plan

an understanding of your audience

Again, using AI art as the example: it's more realistic to advocate for artist protections within the work place and also the limiting of commercial use of AI art then to tell everyone that you disagree with that you think they're lame and stupid.

Doug, who creates AI art of his very silly very specific fetish, isn't your main target. Arguing with Tumblr user DAVIDLOVESHENTAI about how he's not a REAL artist like YOU are looks like the most childish fight in the world. Trying to sway public opinion is great but it's generally harder to do if most people have had positive associations with the thing in question. Unfortunately, you may have to make concessions.

We need to stop making the same mistakes in discourse that we've been making since 2015.

TL:DR: Go to the source of these issues. Blaming people for using the tools at their disposal is a losing proposition and is going to sour public opinion against you. "I would like to simply like to put the genie back in the bottle" is not a realistic goal with any problem.

You can be mad at me for this take, but it doesn't change the fact that bad planning and organization is a detriment to your ability achieve your own goals

[ratsoh-writes]

🎄Rustyyyyy! Rust and the fam oped up so many gifts this morning. And so much chocolate. And a pricey woodworking tool Rust said he wanted a long time ago. And so much more. The babies have a pile of bb clothes on them, and Bruno uses his magic to throw everything all over the freaking place. He doesn't have much control over it yet, but it's enough to wreak havoc upon our living room. Noir got so much handmade clothes fit for a man of his caliber. And chocolate. And a 2 foot tall Priapus statue as yet another house warming gift.

Once it's all cleaned up, Annie makes everyone a big breakfast.

Rust had put his woodworking skills to work, making Ann a full kitchen utensil set for her cooking! Fancy wooden spoons, spatulas and more with cute carved handles!! He also got her a few disposable cameras that print the pictures right away since Ann always jokes about needing a picture of every cute moment

Noir had gotten Ann a fine nomad made dress, loose but flattering, and it’s stain and water proof! She can look glam and not worry about her kids ruining it!

Red and oak got Ann a gift together in the form of a body pillow with rust on it. Rust hates it lol

And edge got Ann a nice belt to go with noirs dress, and high heels with a hidden knife compartment

——-

The second Ann sees a sprig of mistletoe across the room from her and rust, she jumps him. She was gonna do that anyways but now she has an excuse

Just as eager, rust kisses Ann furiously, excited after seeing her reaction to his gifts for her. Ann is quickly dragged to the bedroom lol