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#calculus? creativity?
scarsmood · 2 years
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All the poems are really cool so far! If you're still taking requests, could you do a robot/AI one talking about creativity? I've been doing a lot of writing and drawing lately, and I find it to be an oddly powerful process.
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worldsworstfemale · 3 months
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No one who genuinely understands and is good at math finds it boring. But you‘re from the us so I can see why you think you’re smart. It’s good that you’re that confident though ❤️ love that
maybe you’re just a soulless bore and lame nerd
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ilovedthestars · 1 year
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stars!! re: your tags on the post you rb'd about wizard uni/wizard tech school: may i recommend Year of the Griffin, by Diana Wynne Jones (the woman who forced Tolkien to keep lecturing instead of fucking of to work on his books by continuing to attend his terrible uni lectures) as a book leaning hard into the wizard undergrad lyfe. One of the main protags is a griffin from a loving family of human wizards (this book is loosely the sequel to The Dark Lord of Derkholm, the fantasy pastiche) and the book follows her and the ragtag group of friends she makes at uni as their various unique problems interfere with the process of studying magic and making friends at university. It's been a while since I last read it but it features terrible profs obsessed with going to the moon, a pirate invasion, philosophy of magic debates in the cafeteria, and a really sweet moment in the middle of an action-packed climax where the main protags have to talk out their feelings to fix the big magical life-threatening problem. I highly recommend!
(wish I knew a book that went the wizard trade school route, but alas. if you hear of a book like that please tell!)
tumblr I need a "mark as unread" option for my inbox because the moment the little dot went away I forgot this ask existed. oops. sorry verso I read this and appreciated it and then forgot to reply 😅
(the wizard uni/trade school post)
That book sounds amazing, thank you for the rec!! The post made me really hungry for like, relatable-to-my-current-life uni shenanigans but with magic, and now I'm so curious what Undergrad Life(TM) adventures this book contains and if any of them will resonate. Either way it sounds like it's full of very fun shenanigans. (Now what I really need is a book about wizard art school. Someone should write that.) Anyway, thank you verso, this is going on my tbr immediately :)
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alasblogpoetry · 1 year
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Coolth.
Earth a lifeless cement - Dirt frozen over, Trees bare and dead.
Wind a motionless freeze - Air is as if claws Cling onto our skin.
Sun a heartless deceit - A disk blank and white, An absence of heat.
Fire - its faint orange tongues barely touching our skin.
Layers of sweaters - heavy but transparent to coolth.
Submerged, by woods, by deathly coolth of morning, by thirst for warmth.
Together a freezing love - Forget the fire and layers, We hug.
Warmth.
(to MK, AK, DB, and Art)
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What Did I Do Today?
14 Feb 2024
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house-of-mirrors · 4 months
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Positive post: I like math, it's cool and useful! The culture of blindly hating math is a problem in an increasingly anti-intellectual society. We need some revisions to the way it's taught to make it more accessible and relevant. In fact, an entire branch of science isn't arcane devil magic!
Comment on tumblr "how dare you say we piss on the poor" dot com: you weren't talking to me but this is ableist because some people have dyscalculia
Record scratch.
Every single post I've seen about enjoying math inevitably has at least one comment like this and it entirely misses the point on multiple levels. Would you say reading and literacy is ableist because some people have dyslexia? No, so leave math alone.
Not everyone can do higher dimensional calculus, but not everyone can read middle English or carve a marble statue either. The experts in each field find great beauty in what they study. Isn't the human spirit of exploration and creativity great?
Like... I use a cane, are athletes ableist because not everyone can participate? I have food allergies, is the dairy industry ableist? Is the sun itself ableist because I get migraines? My hands shake and make it impossible to create precise lines and painful to hold an instrument for more than one minute, is the entire field of visual arts and the community around artists ableist?
The rhythms of calculus and physics are as beautiful as a symphony or a poem or a painting, get out of my house
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danaewrites · 5 months
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you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)
part ii: i wanna hear you speak to me
james potter x reader // read it on AO3
word count: 3.6k
summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”
tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader
author's notes: new year, new chapter! i started writing this one back in SEPTEMBER and finally had enough time away from the terrors of calculus homework to finish it. thanks for reading my story so far and i hope you enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent chapter, because i had way too much fun writing it!! i promise that the angst in this chapter *will* be resolved, but it was too deliciously tempting to resist sprinkling a wee bit of hurt/comfort and dramatics in there as well. sorry not sorry!
read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)
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“I’ve got no bloody clue how Dumbledore can be so energetic all the time,” you groaned, head in your hands as you peeked out at the headmaster’s more-than-slightly manic grin from your seat at the Gryffindor breakfast table. You were far too sleep-deprived to process his latest choice of garish attire: a bright chartreuse robe covered in plaid polka dots, topped off with what appeared to be rhinestones and tinsel attached to his beard.
Perhaps if Kettleburn hadn’t assigned you three feet of parchment on the seventeen glorious properties of dragon dung yesterday and expected it done by this afternoon, you might have appreciated the headmaster’s creative fashion choices– oh, who were you kidding. There really was no understanding that wizard, even properly rested. James and Peter had made a bet during fifth year on how long it’d take Dumbledore to crack under a constant deluge of pranks in his office, but they’d quickly realized that the man was too far gone to do anything but take inspiration for school events– an idea that was quite frankly, comically frightening, and the sort of thing you weren’t keen on pondering on a normal Tuesday morning.
Sirius wrinkled his nose sympathetically and slid the pile of raspberry jam tarts closer to you. “Late night in the library again?”
You nodded sheepishly, gratefully taking a pastry from the pile. “I honestly don’t know why Pince allows me to stay past curfew. Marauder’s luck, I guess?” Your attention was diverted by the sound of hoots and flapping wings as the morning owl brigade arrived, apparently choosing a kamikaze dive-bomb approach to deliver this morning’s newspapers. Ah, the joys of living at the world’s most advanced magical school.
Sirius, ever the epitome of grace, slipped under the table as a rogue owl zipped past, popping himself back up just enough to throw you finger guns. “Exactly right, doll, exactly right,” he grinned. “Trust me, Marauder’s luck gets you everywhere. And I mean everywhere,” he winked, sending you a lecherous smirk.
“Ew, Sirius, I don’t even want to know,” you sniffed. “I’ve learned my lesson after the mental trauma your tales of Dorcas’ birthday adventures inflicted upon my psyche. Please, spare me the details.”
“What? All I meant was Slughorn’s Christmas Party, of course!” He batted his eyelashes angelically, still partially covered by the tablecloth.
Your mouth gaped open in shock. “Last year’s Christmas party? Sirius Orion Black, I refuse to hear another word! What on earth would your ancestors think, with you bragging about such exploits-”
He leaned over, eyes wide with laughter. “No, I meant the one Slughorn is throwing on the 21st, it’s exclusively for us lucky seventh years this time. Although, you bring up some very fond memories… okay, okay, I’ll stop, don’t kick me–”
“What are we kicking Sirius for?” James slid onto the bench across from you, eyeing a groveling Sirius with interest. Peter joined him, but wisely chose to stay away from the ruckus, piling his plate high with the bacon the owls had spared. Remus was noticeably absent, spending the morning resting in the infirmary after a rough night of shifting– which you assumed was much more peaceful than the current chaos at the Gryffindor breakfast table.
“Oh! Good morning, Jamie,” you beamed up at him, passing him the plate of desserts you’d been protecting from Sirius’ nefarious advances. “Morning, dove,” he greeted you, and then paused. “Ha, get it? Morning dove?” He puffed up his chest smugly and nudged Sirius with his elbow in a futile effort to make him laugh. You huffed fondly at his antics. Boys.
Sirius rolled his eyes and took advantage of your momentary distraction, retreating back onto his seat to nurse his wounds– to your ever-growing delight (and Sirius’ woe), you had recently discovered that the Hogwarts girls’ uniform shoes were quite sharp. “At this point we should call you Lames. ‘Cause your puns are lame,” he muttered.
You shooed him away with a brush of your hand, remembering what Sirius had mentioned earlier. “According to Sirius, Slughorn’s hosting a Christmas Party again this year. Let’s pray it won’t be like the last one.” You muttered. James and Peter both looked vaguely ill at the prospect, shuddering in unison. “My tie will never look the same again,” Peter griped, but suddenly sat up straight in his seat. “Hey, wait, we’re finally old enough to bring dates to this one! Without sneaking them in, I mean.” 
Sirius snickered and lightly punched his shoulder. “Why, Petey, got some lucky girl in mind?” Peter reddened and glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where a certain freckled blonde was chatting with her friends– a move that didn’t go unnoticed by James, who gave a delighted wolf-whistle. “You got a thing for Lucy Abbott, huh? Might want to make a move before Smith does,” he grinned, gesturing to the tall brunette boy who’d just arrived and sharing a knowing smirk with you. You giggled at Peter’s increasingly pouty expression; he’d figure out sooner or later that Smith was definitely not interested in Abbott– or witches in general– but it was entertaining to see him out of his comfort zone. Peter had always been the quietest of your little group, and you privately thought that a bit of momentary romantic angst might spur him to be more assertive. An ironic opinion, considering how your own love life revolved around the fact that your best friend had feelings for someone else… and you couldn’t do anything about it except mope.
Peter scowled. “Easy for you to say, Prongs, you’ve finally got precious Lily-flower wrapped around your finger. I bet you’ve already asked her!”
There it was: another reminder that James wasn’t yours, and never would be. You watched as the Gryffindor boys good-naturedly jostled his shoulder and tousled his curls. James grinned sheepishly, shrugging off their teasing. “Not yet,” he admitted, glancing hopefully at the end of the table, where Lily was chatting with her friends. 
Peter rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, we all know she’ll say yes this year.” Sirius winced, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Peter glanced at Sirius, drawn by the movement. “What’ve you got to worry about? Half the population would kill Dumbledore to get one dance with you. The only person who’s got to worry about a date is me– well, and maybe Y/n, I guess.” His face suddenly turned contemplative, looking you up and down. “Are you going with someone?” 
Sirius’ grimace became doubly pronounced at Peter’s tactlessness, and you felt your face heating up. Peter had a way of accidentally hitting on the issues others tried to hide. It wasn’t his fault he’d never heard about your trips to Hogsmeade with a paramour– in fact, none of the boys had. Because there hadn’t been any. You’d spent your entire time at Hogwarts pining after James, and as a result had missed the romantic milestones your classmates had already blissfully bragged about. 
Peter looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response, and you opened your mouth to confess your lack of experience when you spotted a familiar redhead walking gracefully towards your side of the table– to James, you realized with a start. Something within you ignited as you watched her glow with confidence, carefree and lovely as ever. Lily would never pine after someone uselessly; she knew she could get anyone she wanted with the right amount of banter and flirty gestures. You... Well, you weren’t there quite yet, but maybe it was time to take inspiration from the Muggle saying and ‘fake it til you make it’. And before you could think about what you were about to do, you turned to Peter and smiled coyly. “I might.”
James’ and Sirius’ heads snapped up immediately from their perusal of the breakfast lineup as they let out an identical murmur of surprise. “What?” James furrowed his brow, looking you up and down– seemingly trying to discern whether you had taken a holiday from your senses, most likely via Bludger-induced concussion at the last Quidditch match. Sirius merely raised a questioning eyebrow at you. You groaned internally, knowing that you’d have to explain yourself later… although, if your half-baked idea worked, you’d be spending a lot more time with him anyway. For now, you beamed innocently at both of them and took a sip of your pumpkin juice. Apparently, the Sorting Hat had placed you in Gryffindor for a reason- you were either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish to commit to this plan, but with Evans quickly approaching, you saw no other choice.
Peter looked momentarily shocked, then glumly began to assemble an egg and bacon sandwich seasoned with the occasional mutterance of “unfair” and “perpetually single, my arse”.
James’ eyes were still trained on you. “Who is it?” he asked, searching your face again as if he was looking for some indication that you were joking. You shrugged, trying to look casual. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”
“Dove-” he began, but Lily finally reached his seat and placed one stupidly perfect hand on his shoulder, diverting his attention momentarily. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you to her office for Quidditch scheduling.” James blinked, glancing up at her and then at the rest of the table. He stood up and focused on you again, expression clouded. “I’ll see you in Potions, yeah?”
Sirius stood up quickly, ushering him out of his seat with a speed you’d only seen him use to gulp down cheap Firewhiskey. He gave you a significant look. “Actually, Y/n and I were just about to take a walk, isn’t that right? So we'll both see you in Potions, what a sublime coincidence, now don’t be late for your meeting–” he chattered on as he shoved James toward the doors of the Great Hall, the latter eyeing him suspiciously but moving nonetheless. Sirius turned to you and pointed to the courtyard entryway. “You. Me. Talk, as in right now.”
Once you were sure that you’d made it out of earshot of Peter and the rest of the Gryffindor table, you wheeled around to face him. “Okay. First of all… I didn’t plan that.” Sirius raised an eyebrow again. “Second of all, I need a favour,” you pleaded, staring up at him with the most adorable doe eyes you could physically summon. They were usually most effective on James, for some reason, but you were sure that Sirius wasn’t immune to your manipulation either. He groaned, resting his face in his hands. “How do you even have a date? Last time I checked, also known as yesterday, you were still head over heels for Prongsie, doll. So do I need to check you for Amortentia or somethi–” He peered out from between his fingers with annoyed realization. “You don’t have a date, do you.” 
You blinked innocently up at him. He let out a long-suffering sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “This is what you need the favour for? You want me to go with you to Slughorn’s party so you can pretend in front of the rest of Hogwarts that you’re not madly in love with Jamie?” 
You grinned confidently up at him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Aw, Siri, you know me so well. It’s almost as if you were maaaade to be my date for the party...” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him one more time for good measure, trying to hide a smirk. “Alright, alright, stop with the Bambi act, I’ll take you.” He scowled good-naturedly. “You know, this is going to ruin my dating pool for the next month.” 
You scoffed. “As if! If anything, you’ll just have more people fawning over you– temptation of the forbidden apple and all, you know.” 
Sirius brightened up considerably at this revelation. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the beginning, doll! I vote that we match in purple velvet, it does wonders for my complexion–”
You gave a very unladylike snort at the thought of you and Sirius swanning into the party in some sort of horrendous plum-coloured disco getup, and shooed him away towards the Potions classroom. That was an eyesore to imagine sometime when you weren’t about to get a headache from the dim dungeon lighting.
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Slughorn greeted you and Sirius by directing you to the front of the classroom with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oho, a pair of latecomers, I see!” He winked at you and Sirius in exaggerated motion. You winced as Snape jeered and nudged Malfoy, who was busy enjoying Flint’s crude gestures at you. Ugh, Slytherin boys. The worst of the lot. Their snickers were quickly stopped by James chucking a handful of powdered wormwood at their heads when Slughorn turned away, making Malfoy’s prized hair appear covered in soot. You shot him a grateful smile. 
“Since you two missed my initial remarks, let’s see if you can make it up by identifying today’s potion, hmm?” Slughorn gestured dramatically to a shimmering green brew in a cauldron next to his desk, cherry-coloured smoke curling off of the top invitingly. 
Sirius shot you a panicked look, clearly not expecting to be put in the academic spotlight, but you shook your head and stepped closer. You smelled something rich and incense-like, which meant that Bumburrel leaves were a key ingredient. And combined with the way the smoke was drifting lazily around your wrists, curling higher and higher… “Brew of Mandelian, sir. Used for sharpened acuity under times of pressure.”
Slughorn gave a delighted chuckle and clapped his hands. “Well then! Ten points to Gryffindor for paying attention in lectures!” He dismissed you and Sirius with a wave, moving on to explain the finer points of ingredient preparation to a very bemused George Goyle as you slipped into your usual seat beside James.
You worked in quiet harmony for a moment, methodically slicing and crushing the slippery beetles needed to give the brew its signature green colour while James handed you the insects. He broke the silence after six beetles (not that you had been counting or anything) with an awkward, “So… you have a, erm, date?”
You huffed, motioning for him to hand you the foul-smelling Moorish tubers next. “Honestly, James, is it that surprising?” He scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “Well, I– yeah, I guess.” he trailed off, seeing your expression. 
“The tubers, Jamie, thank you. I mean, you looked at me like I was a ghost back in the Great Hall!” You were decidedly not making eye contact with him, trying your best to focus on the slimy plants in front of you and not the fact that your best friend-slash-unrequited crush doubted your romantic potential. What a way to be humbled– and while covered in tuber juice, no less!
He huffed, running a hand through his already messy curls. “Come on, Y/n, it’s not like that. What did Sirius want to talk about in the Great Hall, anyway? You two looked… chummy.” 
You glared down at the copper slicing board. “Well, it’s none of your business how chummy we are, is it? I don’t interrogate you every time you converse with Peter. In fact, it’s rather expected that Sirius and I speak to one another on occasion, considering the amount of time we all spend together thanks to you.”
You moved to grab another tuber from the jar, but James reached out and grabbed your hand, forcing you to look at him. His hazel eyes were alight with frustration, a look you knew by heart thanks to the hours you’d spent tutoring him in History of Magic after he napped his way through the entire first semester. “Are you serious? You’re actually going with someone?”
“Please, Jamie, do enlighten me on whyever you think I couldn’t possibly get a date with my numerous and diverse charms,” you sniffed, hoping to Merlin that he would just leave the entire subject alone. 
“No, it’s–” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “The other boys, they don’t know how– you’re so, I mean, just look at you!” he exclaimed, gesturing at you. He stopped, frowning to himself, looking more confused than before. He glanced over at Lily, expression becoming even more muddled, brow furrowed and hard to read to anyone but you. 
Your mouth parted in shock, and to your dismay you felt tears bubbling up again. You blinked fiercely, refusing to let him see you cry. James thought the issue was… your looks? You suddenly wanted to crawl under Slughorn’s desk and never come out again, except perhaps to find a shovel to dig your grave with. This was far, far worse than watching him transfigure chocolates for Lily every Valentine’s Day. Now you knew for a fact he didn’t find you attractive– thought other boys didn’t either, even! And the way he’d clearly mentally compared you to Lily after what he’d admitted… well. There was no recovering from that. Teenage boys could be dense, but Merlin, how you had wanted him to at least let you down gently. 
You wished you’d never opened your mouth to lie about having a stupid date in the first place, but you forced yourself to laugh and mutter something trite about how that could all be fixed with a couple glamour charms anyway so it really wasn’t an issue for the party, thank you very much. He looked even more confused, opening his mouth to respond, but Snape chose that moment to interrupt.
“Hey, Potter!” James turned to scowl at the greasy Slytherin as you thanked your lucky stars for Snape’s interruption (a rather disturbing thought– potentially a harbinger of an imminent apocalypse. You’d never thanked Snape before in your life and hoped to never do it again). “Here’s payback for earlier,” he smirked, checking that Slughorn had dozed off and the other students weren’t paying attention before whipping a mottled yellow bottle at James.
James’ carefully honed Quidditch reflexes kicked in and he quickly dodged the object, but as the vial soared up, up, past your carefully diced tubers, over James’ messy notes, it hit your arms and shattered. You flinched in pain, crying out as the glass shards embedded themselves in your arm and the congealing, repulsive liquid dripped down your hands and onto your thighs. James lunged towards you, but it was too late– the potion had already seeped into your skin, causing an awful sparking sensation. 
You gasped, grabbing onto the desk as the feeling bubbled upwards. “Jamie, I don’t– I don’t feel–” you stuttered, suddenly lightheaded, and you heard someone gasp as you began to taste something metallic. You absently touched your nose. Why was it so cold and wet? You had been so careful not to touch your face around those horrid tubers and oh, oh Merlin and Morgana what was that pain in your hands and legs, please no make it go away someone help me help me HELP
You vaguely registered someone whimpering in the background. It might have been you, but you weren’t entirely sure what was happening outside of the electric symphony of agony crescending in your nervous system. The pain built swirled flooded through until you weren’t sure where you ended and the potion began which was a funny thought because of course you were you, but you couldn’t remember who you were before this so you laughed but that really hurt, oh how that hurt no no no no no bad idea–  
“Fuck– no–” James? Was he here too?
You blinked– when did your eyes open?– and saw him reach for you, frantically pushing his dark curls off his forehead. Why would he do that? You loved his hair, even when you were feeling funny awful things from the potion. You felt his arms scoop under you, lifting you off your seat as he caught your head from falling back. You heard a door slam open, footsteps, darkness clouding your vision–
His voice. “Sweetheart, no– don’t do that, I need you to keep your eyes open.”
You blinked again, trying to focus on James’ face. He looked pale, jaw set and tensed like it was before his Quidditch games. Were you moving? You couldn’t tell whether James was walking or the hallways were walking around you. He glanced down again, exhaling with relief once he saw whatever he was looking for. “Yeah, just like that. Keep those pretty eyes focused on me, okay?” 
He thought your eyes were pretty? 
James gave a tight laugh. “Yeah, I think your eyes are pretty, dove. Hold on a bit longer, we’re almost there,” he choked out. 
Oh. Had you said that out loud?
But you thought– he had said something, before, you couldn’t remember now but it was important and it hurt–
Some part of you, deep where the potion hadn’t reached, had melted at his words. That part was tinged with pain, too, but in a different way, raw and honest and hopeful and all for him. Or maybe that was the potion, you were pretty sure witches weren’t supposed to melt unless they were green and lived somewhere much further west, but your thoughts on the whole process evaporated as you reached a white door and a woman and your words started to swirl until they melted too and everything went black.
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harmonia-university · 15 days
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Mitzi, do have a certain method to teach math that you have your class do, or do you let them do whatever method they use as long as it's correct?
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“So in short, if a question asks to solve a problem using a specific method, you should follow those intstructions. Yes multiple ways that a mathematical concept can be represented, but we mostly want to test that you understand what everything means.”
Mitzi shrugs. "Other than that though, i'm open to any creative answers. As long as its logically correct, why fault it? Just dont go around in my class applying whatever first year calculus tactics youve learned on an Analytic proof of a derivative"
[ @cheeseyleaves ]
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ariesqueencobra · 6 months
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what we used to be |  l
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Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader
Summary: You meet a new kid and your feelings for your best friend are said aloud.
Warnings: mentions of bullying, mentions of slut shaming, implications of violence, implications of strict parents
Word Count: 3k
A/N: Starting my first ever series for Eli! I always wanted to do a series following his story line in the show along with a female character so I did! I'm aware of other series being done like this by other writers on here, but this will be my own unique twist. There are similarities because it does follow the show's storyline but different because of my own interpretations!
I don't consent to this work being copied, translated or reposted.
“If the limit never approaches anything, then the limit does not exist,” you listened to Eli as he helped you with your math homework. “But in this case, it does, so what is it?” he pointed at the problem on the sheet.
“Two?” you furrowed your brows, trying your best not to sound like you were guessing. 
“C’mon, Y/N, you’re in Calculus for a reason,” he encouraged.
“Only because I passed Trig with an 89, they only let me in because of pity,” you frowned. 
Calculus has been your enemy since the beginning of the semester. You really didn’t want to take the class in the first place but your parents had been adamant about you taking higher-level classes. You would’ve been fine filling up your schedule with more creative art classes like ceramics and photography, but that wasn’t the agreement. 
Math and science classes were part of the agreement. 
Thankfully, you had two smart best friends who helped you whenever you had trouble.
“My advice?” Demetri spoke up.
You and Eli glanced at him, a knowing look on both your faces.
To be honest, while you had two best friends, only one was good at helping you out. 
Demetri on the other hand? He had a habit of giving unsolicited advice. But because you loved him, you tolerated and actually encouraged him to hear what he had to say. 
“Rewatch Mean Girls,” he deadpanned. 
You let out a chuckle. “What I’m hearing is, that you guys are agreeing to watch it for our next movie night,” you grinned.
Both boys groaned.
“I’m fine watching your sci-fi, superhero films, but a girl needs her rom coms and chick flicks,” you mused. 
Being the only girl and having vastly different interests compared to the guys, there were moments where you felt outnumbered. Sometimes you have to plead for one movie night to be your pick. 
“I’d be down for Mean Girls this Friday,” Eli shrugged.
You silently clapped your hands, face creeping up with heat when you and Eli made eye contact.
“Demitiri?” you turned your attention to your other best friend.
After a minute, he rolled his eyes, agreeing.
“This Friday, my place,” you grinned. “Both my parents will be having a date night, so we’ll have the place to ourselves,”.
“Are you sure your dad will allow that?” Demetri cocked a brow. “That man is scary and I don’t want to know what will happen when he sees his daughter home alone with two boys,” he shuddered. 
“He won’t mind, he likes you guys,” you attempted to reassure. “Besides, we’re just watching a movie,”.
“We know that, but will he?” Demetri asked in a mix of sarcasm and sincerity. 
“C’mon, my dad isn’t that scary,” you trailed. 
“I-I don’t think he likes me very much,” Eli said quietly. 
“He does,” you straightened up. “Don’t worry about my dad guys, you’ve known him for ten years,” you stated.
You watched as the boys avoided your gaze, the sound of the cafeteria surrounded you when they both fell silent. Leaning back in your seat, you wondered why they were bringing this up now. 
Like he read your mind, Demetri spoke up, “I’m just pointing out an observation I’ve noticed for the last few years. The older we get, the more of a threat your dad thinks we are,” he explained. “Guess it’s the raging teenage hormones!” he gestured with his hands, joking at the end.
Eli’s lips spread out into a smirk.
Relaxing, you shook your head at the way your best friend acted, even though you found the joke to be funny.
For the next few minutes, Eli went on to explain limits to you. You were about to ask a question when a new presence stopped you.
“Hey, can I sit here?” 
You all turned your attention to a kid with dark hair and brown eyes, a tray in his hand as he gestured at the empty seat next to Eli. 
You were about to welcome him until Demitri beat you to it. 
“Check back next semester as you can see we’re entirely booked,” he said sarcastically but the new kid didn’t catch it.
With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he was about to walk away. 
“He’s kidding, you can sit,” you gestured to the empty seat. “I’m Y/N, that’s Demitri and Eli,” you introduced. 
“Miguel,” he nodded.
Just then, Yasmine and her entourage walked passed, causing Miguel to go into a trance. 
You frowned at his reaction. You hated that just cause they were pretty, it forgave all the terrible things they’ve done to your friends and you.
“You’re just torturing yourself,” Demetri warned. “They’re the rich girls”.
“Do you talk to them or…?” Miguel asked.
“Yeah, all the time,” Demetri feigned a smirk. “We hang out after school, make out,” he shrugged. “Eli is homecoming king, and gets laid more than anyone”.
You rolled your lips together, glancing at your lap.
“You pretty much signed away all hopes of losing your virginity before college the moment you sat at this table,” he frowned. 
Comments like that reminded you that boys will be boys. In the sense that virginity is still frowned upon. The societal pressure to lose it before a certain age disgusted you. 
What happened to not conforming to society's rules?
“Oh, great, Yasmine is looking at us,” Eli narrowed in on himself, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “Probably making fun of me”.
“I wouldn’t assume that,” you reassured. “She’s always going to have that nasty look on her face,” you grimaced.
Then you made eye contact with her. 
She whispered something to Moon, causing both of them to burst out laughing. 
You figured she was making fun of you again, calling you a slut or whatever. Dropping your gaze to your food, you checked your phone for the time.
“I gotta go, it was nice meeting you,” you smiled towards Miguel as you got up. 
“What about your homework?” Eli asked.
“I got limits now,” you attempted to reassure but your composure fell when you accidentally looked Yasmine’s way. “Besides I have to get my sketch done before class,” you hoisted your bag over your shoulder. 
Art was your passion. Since you could talk, you could draw. Your best friends might’ve been computer nerds, but you? You were an artistic geek. 
Still, as talented as you were, Yasmine and Moon used that area of your life to make fun of you. Whether it was a silly doodle you drew during class or an actual piece you worked your ass off for class. 
They tried to diminish your spirit with your art, but thankfully you haven’t lost it yet.
Shaking your head to brush the thoughts away, you gulped down the lump in your throat and managed to make your way down the hall to your art class twenty minutes early.
While you were gone from the lunchroom, the conversation at the table shifted, focusing on you.
“Do you like her or something?” Miguel asked Eli.
The awkward boy stilled at the newcomer’s question, opting to fidget with his fingers while staring at his tray. He didn’t think he was being obvious, the only other person who knew of his infatuation with you was Demetri. 
“He’s been in love with her since they met in kindergarten, her too but they’re too scared to admit it,” Demetri answered for him. “I think they’ll get married before either of them admit they do like each other,”.
It was true. 
You liked Eli and Eli liked you.
The moment you laid eyes on him on the playground, that was it for the two of you. But both of you are socially awkward, insecure people…neither of you had the guts to tell each other how you truly feel.
Leaving Demetri to stand and watch at the mutual pining unwind for the last ten years.
“I’m not in love with her,” Eli defended. “Besides, she wouldn’t ever like someone like me,” he folded in on himself. 
“You won’t know if you never strike first,” Miguel tried to reason. 
“Good luck with getting Eli to do that,” Demerit said.
Eli sighed, keeping his gaze down. As much as he wanted to argue, he knew deep down that his friend was right.
~
“Keep this door open,” your dad barked quickly followed by your mother scolding him.
The door had been half-way opened, or half-way closed, when he walked past. He decided it wasn’t to his standards so he made sure the door was wide, banging it against the adjacent wall.
“Sorry,” you said, not looking up from your notebook.
You were sitting in your room, Eli helping you study for your Clac quiz tomorrow. It was a routine for the two of you, hanging out after school and doing homework. Quality time well spent and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 
Sometimes Demetri would join but he decided to play Dungeon Lord after school today. Part of you was happy to hear he wouldn’t be joining.
Especially when that meant you spent more time with Eli. Meaning there would be more brief moments where your shoulders or knees would brush. Which would send butterflies straight to your tummy.
“Miguel seems nice,” Eli shrugged, placing his pen down. “He mentioned something about karate, he wants all of us to join,” he smiled lightly.
“Really?” you smirked. “What did Demetri say to that?” you laughed, knowing he had some highlighted opinions about it.
“Wasn’t on board, but I don’t know,” he glanced down. “Maybe it could be fun,” he said.
“If you want to,” you passed him a smile. “It’d be nice to see you kick Kyler’s ass for once,” you sighed, glancing at the problem in your book.
You missed the way he frowned but he continued, “You should join too,”. 
“Me?” your eyes widened and you glanced up to meet his gaze. 
“Yeah,” he cracked a grin. One that was big and genuine, something that only happened in front of you or Demetri. “You’d be great at kicking ass too,” he reasoned. 
“In my dreams,” you huffed out a laugh. “I can barely do a push-up,” you shook your head. 
“Maybe just think about it,” he suggested.
“Okay, I will,” you nodded. “So, how am I doing?” you licked your lips. 
You pushed your notebook between the two of you. 
Both of you leaned in, your shoulders brushing against each other. Anytime you inhaled, you smelled him. 
He smelled nice. 
“You’re doing good, you just need to remember that an open circle means the limit exists but not in the function,” he pointed at the problem you got wrong. 
“Stupid circles,” you huffed out a breath, running a hand over your hair. “Thanks again, Eli,” you pressed your lips into a soft smile. 
“You’re going to do great, okay?” he nudged his elbow with yours. 
“Okay,” you nodded, allowing yourself to believe. 
You went over the material for a few minutes, your mind getting lost in all things limits and functions. 
Unbestowent to you though, Eli was watching you. 
He watched the way your nose would scrunch when you didn’t understand what you read the first time around. The way your lashes fluttered as you scanned the page. The way you would lick your lips in concentration. The way you would crack your knuckles when they got too stiff. 
He was utterly in love with you. 
Being friends for ten years, you’d reach that point without even dating. Even if it was just puppy love, he knew one thing for sure—he likes you, a lot. 
He doubted himself when he thought about what Demetri said. And when he thought about the comment Kyler made earlier of him being a loser. He had come home crying, knowing he was never going to get a girlfriend because of the way he looked. But then his mind thought to Miguel. 
Maybe he could be wrong, maybe he could get a girlfriend. Maybe it could be you.
Without second-guessing any further, he opened his mouth.
“Hey, Y/N?” he cleared his throat. 
“Yeah?” you reached your gaze to his, your head resting in your palm. 
“I like you,” he confessed, face going pale at the fact that he actually said that to you. 
Your eyes went wide, face blank as you took in his words. You didn’t say anything for a few moments, just staring at your best friend. 
“I-you know, never mind, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he felt embarrassed, shaking his head as he went back to his homework. 
“Wait!” you reached out and touched his arm. “I like you too,” you gulped, a smile creeping up on your face. 
“Really?” he seemed taken aback.
You nodded enthusiastically. 
The two of you gazed at each other for what felt like a few minutes until you bent over in giggles, still in disbelief. 
“I’m glad you told me,” you reached for his hand on your desk, squeezing it. 
“Me too,” he squeezed it back. 
You felt your cheeks heat up before you turned back to your work. 
The rest of the night was spent with the two of you doing work, holding hands.
~
The next day at school, Eli was sitting with Demetri and Miguel. 
Having just told the news about you and him, he was feeling a little proud of himself that he actually did it. 
And more relieved that you actually reciprocate his feelings.
“I was right, wasn’t I?” Demetri raised a brow.
Eli smiled, his cheeks turning pink while Miguel laughed. 
“I’m glad someone took my advice, now you see my Sensei is legit,” Miguel pointed out. 
Eli nodded, a small smile on his face.
“I’m gonna need more evidence to back it up,” Demerit crossed his arms over his chest. “This,” he gestured to Eli, “has been a work in progress for ten years, your words of encouragement just gave him enough push,” he scoffed. 
About to respond, Eli was stopped by the smell of your perfume. He turned his head to the left just in time to greet you as you approached the table.
“Hi, guys,” you greeted, taking your seat next to Eli. “Hi, Eli,” your cheeks warmed up.
“Hi, Y/N,” his eyes beamed with admiration. “You look nice,” he blushed, glancing over the pretty green sundress you wore today, but his gaze circled back to your face.
“Thanks,” you glanced down, running a hand over the skirt. “It’s been in my closet for a while, I figured it’d be happy to see the light of day,” you shrugged, unaware he wasn’t talking about the dress.
“You should wear it more often,” Eli commented.
Demetri and Miguel sent each other a knowing look before Miguel decided to cut the awkward lovey-dovey talk.
“So, Y/N, did Eli tell you about joining my karate dojo?”
You focused your gaze on him, the warmth of your cheeks dissolving when your mind was pushed away from Eli. “Uh, yeah,” you smiled. “I thought about it, but I don’t know if I want to do something like that. I need my hands for my art, I don’t want them beaten and bruised,” you stifled a laugh. 
Miguel nodded in understanding. “Thanks for thinking about it, Y/N,” he pressed his lips in a smile. 
“No problem. Anyway, do you want to join us for movie night this Friday?” you extended your invitation to him. “You can pick the movie,” you offered. 
“Sure, I’d like that,” he grinned.
“Awesome”. 
~
Friday came around and you were all seated on your couch in the living room watching Spider-Man. 
You actually enjoyed the pick, especially watching the nerdy boy become the hero. One who reminded you a lot of the boy sitting right next to you. 
Miguel was on the recliner, Demetri on the other end of the couch, and Eli in the middle with you on the other side. Except, Eli was scooted closer to you, only a bowl of popcorn separating the two of you. 
Your hands happened to brush a lot when you’d reach for the popcorn. Though, you didn’t mind. 
You had gotten to the part where Peter Parker discovered his powers, a glass in your hand as you had come back from refilling your drink.
“That’s a cool painting,” Miguel noticed the piece of art framed by the TV. 
It was an oceanscape of the beach.
“Y/N painted it,” Eli stated.
“No kidding,” Miguel said in amazement, standing up to study it. “You’re really talented, Y/N,” he smiled over to you. 
“Thanks, that was my first one so my parents framed it,” you shyly said. 
“You should see her sketchbook, it’s filled with the most awesome things,” Eli smiled.
You glanced at him, sending him a thankful look. 
“Can I see?” Miguel’s eyes beamed. “My yaya loves paintings, I’d love to show her your work,” he said.
“Yeah, I’ll grab some that you could take pictures of,” you stood up, cheeks on fire. 
It wasn’t often that you got praised for your art, mainly from your parents or your friends. So this was new. But you took the pleasure from it nonetheless. 
Heading to your room, you grabbed a few of your favorite paintings before you went to your bag in search of your sketchbook, only you couldn’t find it. 
As panic erupted, you thought back to the last time you saw it. You had it in art class and then you went to P.E. You could’ve sworn you had it then, but you guessed you were wrong. 
“I can’t find my sketchbook,” you gulped, walking back to the living room. 
“Maybe you left it in your locker or someone found it and took it to the lost and found,” Miguel offered, gesturing with his hands. 
“Yeah, it’ll turn up,” Demetri reassured. “I don’t think anyone would have wanted to steal it,” he shrugged.
“We’ll help you find it on Monday,” Eli said, reaching for your hand.
“Thanks, guys,” you blew out your breath.
You were glad you had them and you really hoped your sketchbook turned up. 
Part of you didn’t want to think about it, but you were worried about who had it if they did. And it only traced back to two girls.
~
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moralesmilesanhour · 7 months
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if you believe in me - 03
summary: Miles is hiding something from you. wc: ~1500 a/n: Writing this chapter was very enjoyable especially near the end! I think Imma start adding songs to listen to while you read if you want so: Crush on You - Lil' Kim Mrs. Postman - Black Pumas Funkdafied - Da Brat Hop Out the Van - Offset Enjoy <3
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"You do this math shit like it’s nothing," you muttered as you watched Miles solve one of the questions from your calculus homework, using his notebook as a flat surface. “What’s your secret?”
At no point did his pencil slow down as neat calculations flew from it like he was on autopilot. Miles even numbered the steps for you.
 "The numbers just agree with me," he shrugged, circling his answer on your worksheet for emphasis.
You sat behind him on his bed with pages of homework scattered everywhere. When you draped your arms around his shoulders to lean on him, you felt them tense. Your eyebrows creased in concern.
“You good, baby?”
Miles turned his head slightly, amusement playing on his face. 
“That’s a new one.”
“What?”
“ ‘Baby’.”
“You don’t like it?”
You pecked him on the cheek and felt the dimple forming as he smiled. Miles relaxed his shoulders.
“It’s…fine. Thought you’d be a little more creative, though.”
“How about…” you hummed in consideration before taking a glance at Miles’ glasses, which hung from the front of his shirt. “Arthur!”
Unfortunately, your genius was met with complete silence.
“...What?”
“You know, the lil’ aardvark from–”
“I know who Arthur is,” he interrupted. “But why am I him? I don’t follow.”
You fumbled for a moment, having assumed that he would automatically get it.
“Well–Cuz he wears glasses, and all his friends got on his ass for it.”
Miles blinked, remaining unimpressed. You gave up.
“Alright, what about Riley? Like, from ‘The Boondocks’.”
His blank stare remained.
“But what if I take my braids out? Then the joke doesn’t work.”
“Then you’ll be Huey.”
“Come up with somethin’ else.”
You sucked your teeth playfully. “You makin’ this real difficult for no reason. How ‘bout ‘Kilo’?”
His brows knit together. “Who’s ‘Kilo’?”
“Kilo as in kilometers. Because your name…” you trailed off.
You could see the gears turning in his eyes before it finally clicked, and the beginnings of a laugh flashed across his face.
“I’m good, right?” 
“You’re mad corny,” Miles said beneath a giggle, attempting to hide his face behind his palm. “Don’t ever say that shit again.”
“Come on, Kilo is cute!”
He shook his head good-naturedly and held up your worksheet. “Finish your homework.”
You tightened your arms around him and refused to move.
“Uh-uh, you gotta gimme a nickname too, now.”
His back deflated in a sigh. “If I give you one, will you focus?”
“Mhm.”
“Fine, I’ll call you…well, what do you wanna be called–? Ow!”
You pouted, and smacked his left shoulder.
“You gotta come up with it yourself, stupid.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll call you…” Miles turned to face you. His wide eyes scanned your features, searching for something to latch onto. “Elf.”
“Excuse me?”
“You got big ears.”
“Miles, stop playin’ with me–”
“What? There are cool elves. Like Zelda.”
“Call me Zelda, then. That's pretty!”
“That's why I asked you first,” Miles said with a lopsided grin. “I'm not good with nicknames, I rather call you your name name. Now, are you gonna finish this problem?”
You groaned in disappointment before taking the pencil and worksheet from him. 
“Fine. You’re no fun.”
Seeing the problem-solving process on paper at least made the math easier to get through. Soon you were quiet, brows knit together and lips pursed with focus. 
As you worked, Miles watched your twists fall in front of your face each time you tilted your head.
Back and forth. 
Back and forth. 
The warm light of his desk lamp fell on them at such an angle that the oil that had been used on the strands gave them a soft sheen. 
Without thinking, he reached over to brush one away from your face, making you flinch in surprise.
“What are you doing?”
“I-uh…” he stuttered, pulling his hand away, “I’m making sure you’re focused.”
You squint. “...Uh-huh.”
Miles looked away awkwardly. “Your hair’s nice.”
“Did ‘em myself,” you replied proudly, and a lightbulb goes off in your head. “Ooh, I could re-do your braids if you ever need fresh ones!”
The boy blinked again, and part of you expected him to outright refuse the offer. But a tiny smile spread across his lips instead.
“I’ll think about it.”
Miles stared at you for a moment, gnawing at his bottom lip like he was hesitating to do something when his phone lit up.
He unlocked it and his brows furrowed; he appeared to be reading something. 
Miles glanced at the time, and his stomach dropped:
9:50. How did it get so late? 
“Fuck,” he breathed, expression darkening. “Mami, I gotta go. It’s late.”
You sat up and checked your own phone with a wince. “Damn. Your mom left a half hour ago.”
Miles stood and took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. He said his next words as if they pained him, “Guess we gon’ have to drop you off, then.”
You looked at him warily. “Wait a minute, who’s we?”
-
The worn leather of the car seat made you shift uncomfortably as you sat with your arms crossed. The woody, citrus scent of a cologne that was likely discontinued a decade ago overpowered your senses.
“You sure you don’t wanna sit in the passenger’s seat, Miles?” boomed Uncle Aaron’s deep voice over a Da Brat track turned up too loud.
“I’m good,” Miles called out next to you. “Let’s roll.”
As the engine of the vintage car revved beneath you, you glanced behind you at what was in the trunk. You raised an eyebrow at the tarp that covered…whatever the hell was in there.
Miles didn’t talk about his uncle often, but the murkiness that seeped into his voice and the hardness in his eyes every time he said “my uncle” didn’t exactly endear you to the man. 
“You live a couple blocks from here, right miss?” He addressed you politely.
“She has a name, tío,” his nephew interrupted with a laugh.
“My fault, my fault,” Aaron chuckled. “What’s your name? Maybe I know your folks.”
“Y/N L/N,” you answered. You kept the distaste out of your voice, raising it an octave.
The red traffic light illuminated the man’s long face when he turned to you. 
“L/N,” he pondered the surname, before nodding in recognition. “I went to high school with your momma! She doin’ alright?”
It’s too dark for Aaron to see you press your lips together before answering, “She’s doing fine, thanks for asking.”
“Did every adult within a ten-mile radius go to the same high school?” Miles asked.
“Wasn’t nowhere else to go without moving to Jersey, might as well have.”
Nowhere else to go that they could afford, you added mentally.
The image of the tall, bulky man that appeared on television to announce things once in a while materializes in your mind’s eye. 
His small, bald head is almost engulfed by his hulking boxy figure. Ever since he became mayor, you started seeing more fancy coffee shops pop up, all square and painted white. Nothing ever changed on your side of the pond, though. Your mother always shook her head solemnly when he announced some new project, or budget, or whatever.
Miles shifted in his seat, and the clank of metal from his backpack pulled you away from your thoughts. You turned to him with an amused look.
“What’s in your bag? It sure don’t sound like school books.”
He froze, and an oppressive silence suddenly descended upon the three of you as you quickly realized that you had said something you weren’t supposed to.
He and Aaron shared a quick glance, and you caught an eyebrow raise from the latter. Miles blurted out, “Robotics club stuff. I finish all our competition entries at Unc’s house ‘cuz it’s more space over there.”
You nodded slowly. When he scanned your face for a reaction, you knew you had just been lied to.
“That’s cool,” you replied pleasantly. “You should show me one of your projects sometime!”
Anger simmers in your chest watching him sigh quietly with relief. Barely a week, and he seemed to be proving Tianna right.
An automated voice chimed, “Your destination is on the right.”
The car slowed to a halt as Uncle Aaron pulled over.
“That’s me,” you announce, unbuckling your seatbelt and sliding your bag over your shoulders. 
“Get home safe, Y/N.”
“You too, Mr. Davis. G’night, Miles.”
You don’t look back at him before shutting the car door behind you.
And then there were two.
“I told you to make sure Rio takes her home,” Aaron sighed, massaging his temples.
“I know, I know,” Miles thrust his hands into his pockets. “I lost track of time.”
“Forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your neck.”
“You think she believe me?”
Aaron looked his nephew in the eye through the rear-view mirror.
“Imma be honest witchu, man, that girl ain’t stupid. She ain’t believe shit you just said.”
“I’m that bad of a liar?”
The man laughed heartily.
“It’s not even about that, man. Can’t lie to your girl. That’s rule number one.”
Miles frowned. “The hell was I supposed to tell her? I had to lie.”
“Exactly. You put yourself in a position to have to lie,” Aaron explained as he began to pull away from your house. “Don’t make it a habit. You ready?”
Miles pulled up the red mask he had on beneath his chin, concealing the lower half of his face. “Born ready.”
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rayasunshine19 · 4 months
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@n0rtist's Stema Project is by far my favorite creature collector!! his designs are inspired, all being based off of various STEM topics, and the explanations of the science behind the inspirations are clear and effective! I've learned about so many cool concepts from his videos, and even understood limits in calculus for the first time!
I've wanted to make the starters out of Perler beads for a while and stumbling across n0Rtist's own pixel art of them here was enough to send me into a creative frenzy and put together all 3 in one night so without further ado, meet Pyro type Potink, Dendro type Slugant, and Hydro type Micicule! (individual photos below the cut)
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clonehub · 6 months
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sometimes i think about a typical clones education, not so much for content but how fucking fast they must move through shit. you have (bio) 5 year olds doing long division with their pudgy hands. reading with perfect diction and flow at 7 even with the missing teeth. calculus before they really hit puberty and their voice can crack over a word like "derivative".
essays (about war) and basic first aid from the moment they could tell their lefts from their rights. arts? as long as the creativity inspires combat skills. culture? as long as it sows cohesion and loyalty and helps to avoid awkward or potentially disastrous interactions with civilians. history? minimal. for obvious reasons.
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brainrotdotorg · 1 year
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The skills ranked by how nice they would be to cuddle
Logic: does not know how to un-tense even a little bit. His lack of physical stability makes him difficult to put any of your body weight onto. 2/10.
Encyclopedia: will probably read you something or just read out loud for his own enjoyment while you hold him. So his hands are gonna be occupied by holding the book— but he will always lean his head on yours if you put it on his shoulder, and that’s nice. His palms are a bit clammy anyway. 7/10.
Drama: I feel like he takes all the sheets for himself. And he can tell if you aren’t comfortable, and he’s gonna take it personally. Physically, his texture is lumpy but not unpleasant. 4.9/10
Rhetoric:will talk the whole time. If you listen to one sided political debates as ASMR, this may be a comfortable experience for you. Otherwise, I’m sorry he’s taking up a solid 89% of the bed. 3.4/10
Conceptualization: tries to get creative with it. Who gives a shit about spooning. Let’s invent “the tongs”. Definitely not boring to snuggle up with! 6.7/10 sometimes you don’t need to get experimental with it.
Visual calculus: knows exactly how to make the geometry of your bodies fit together in order to maximize comfort. The light coming off of him can lower down to an ambient dim. Very kissable lips that will give you a gentle smooch goodnight. Look, his eyes are half closed anyway, he wants to relax. Probably actually the best choice! 10/10.
Volition: matter of fact about it. Will stroke your hair until you fall asleep and is very valiant in making you cozy. However the moment you do start sleeping he slips away. 7.5/10 for cuddle experience itself but minus points for leaving : (
Inland empire: the starry bits can be fun to watch like one of those projector lights. Very skinny so not a lot to hold onto. Their heads weird shape means that you’ll have to get interesting with pillow formations but I think it’s worth the effort. 8/10
Empathy: knows exactly how you’re feeling but they feel obligated to listen to your innermost thoughts and opinions that really don’t matter that much, but they insist they want you to be SO comfortable. Dude, I don’t mind that you have sweaty hands. Keep them wrapped around me. 8.7/10
Esprit de corps: officer we’ve got a code 113, snuggle emergency, let me get up in your body gap and wear you like a blanket thank youuuu 9/10
Authority: he has to be big spoon or death. Does not give you the option to get up and turn the light off. No. Stay here and don’t you dare move. 5.2/10 it’s nice that he at least cares.
Suggestion: sure you can snuggle, but he convinces you to be in the position that he really wants to be in. The twisty bits are configured weird and when you figure out how to make it comfy you will not be able to adjust. 4/10
Endurance: will never be the first to get up. Almost turns it into a competition— look man, I’d love to lay with you all day, but I’ve got things to do. Super wide so he can be slept on like a bed though 6.1/10
Pain threshold: OW THERE ARE FUCKING SPIKES!!! Girl I love you but 0/10
Physical Instrument: too much of a jock to display any real tenderness. Holds you like he’s trying to suplex you horizontally. 5.2/10 for the muscle but he’s flexing the whole time.
Electro chemistry: how does it feel to be hugged by a dozen horny pythons? 9/10 if you’re looking to cuddlefuck 3.7/10 if not
Shivers: probably will not be able to fit on your futon. ??/10
Half light: if you can ignore the claws you won’t be able to ignore the teeth. Kicks and thrashes in her sleep. You can feel her heartbeat and it’s really fast. 4.2/10.
Hand/eye coordination: gives you a head rub and a back rub and a shoulder massage and a belly rub and . 9/10
Perception: will absolutely remark on ever sensation coming from you that she is experiencing. I’m glad I smell nice and I feel good and you can hear my breathing. She is also if a smoke machine was a person. 7/10
Reaction speed: speed is not an important component of cuddling. Can’t stop shifting around. Impossible to get comfortable with someone who wants to change positions every two minutes. If the remote falls off the couch, she will catch it. 2.8/10
Savoir Faire: six arms to hold you but he’s not gonna stop talking about his hustler bullshit. No head does make for some innovative cuddling positions though. 5.3/10
Interfacing: he would rather be holding a machine. If you wear anything with buttons or loose threads he’s gonna pull at them. He’s also for sure gonna talk about how ballpoint pens work. Maybe put on some how it’s made to watch in order to keep him entertained. 6.3/10
Composure: take composure’s portrait. Now turn it 90 degrees. That’s how composure cuddles. 1/10
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winepresswrath · 7 months
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hi! i always love your MDZS/CQL takes; can i ask what are the questions you think CQL is asking, as compared to MDZS?
I haven't actually revisited either canon in ages, which is making me nervous. what questions the novel is interested in can be pretty contentious all on its own! @mikkeneko has an excellent answer in the notes here which I reccomend to everyone. My own thoughts are honestly pretty scattered- I keep on deleting things and going hm, that's not quite right.
So, for the obvious-to-me example, people reasonably zero in on the creation of innocent doctors/radish farmers who Wen Ruohan is holding hostage. In CQL it's easy to infer that Wen Qing and Wen Ning are maybe the only cultivators and almost certainly the only combatants among the Wen remnants, and their status is much more ambiguous in the novel, which I personally think is asking, essentially, "and so what? were they wrong to run, when they had a chance? Do they deserve what Jin Guangshan will do to them if they go back? Aren't they just people, actually?" Whereas the question that CQL is asking is more to the effect of "What does Wen Qing owe these people, when she is their only defence? What is she entitled to do to save them, at other people's expense? If she fucks up that moral calculus, what then? Does it matter if she's personally fond of some of the outsiders who are going to get hurt? If one of them saved her brother? Later, this question will flip to what Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, and the parallel to Jiang Cheng's situation in particular is, I think, genuinely pretty fun. You're giving up the Wen as soldiers who've laid down their arms in exchange for Wen Qing also grappling with leadership and the question of how many horrors she can stand to look the other way on to protect her own people. one reason I keep deleting so much is that a lot cql's changes were motivated at least in part by censorship, which I think we mostly share a general and justified distaste for! but I also think that within the bounds of that censorship the creative team put a lot of work into actually doing something interesting with those changes. Or, for another example- nieyao! There's a much greater emphasis on the nmj-jgy relationship, it's unambiguously very close and they are clearly extremely important to one another, and I think that's because the cql team has a lot to say about love, trust, power, and the ways those things interact, and that reflects back on all of the other relationships in play, including Wangxian. Almost every time, when CQL chooses change a relationship they make the characters in question closer- that's true for Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, for Wen Qing and the Yunmeng contingent, for Zixuan and Mianmian, and Huaisang and Meng Yao. It's even true for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, who have a close and trusting relationship in first life! CQL puts a much greater emphasis on "all right, so you care, what next?" How do you choose someone and then choose to be good to them? What if there's a massive power disparity between you? What if you seriously disagree about your priorities and morals? How do you trust someone who's betrayed you? When is it a stupid choice to trust at all? How do you have faith that you know someone well enough for that trust to be meaningful?
for legal reasons i would like to specify that it's not that mdzs isn't interested in these problems. i do remember wangxian's literal trust fall. cql is asking these questions all the time about everyone. also for legal purposes i'm not suggesting that cql lwj and jc love each other. but! they establish a three month wartime partnership looking for wwx and then jc immediately drops him on wwx's say-so despite apparently having a positive enough opinion of him to tell wwx he thinks they should make up twice. lan wangji will later tell wwx he thinks he should loop jc in on the second flautist! these are people trying to navigate some kind of relationship/shared interest/community, as opposed to a hateful void. cql wants to say hey, how do you go about this? while I'm here and rambling cql also puts a lot of emphasis on wwx's connection to yunmeng and changes things up so instead of feeling alienated right before he leaves our last glimpse of him there is happily picking lotuses and playing with a kid! in both stories the narrative is asking who do you protect? who do you leave behind? can you ever get it back? but the angles are very different.
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mmani-e · 8 months
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Disco Elysium-Inspire Skill Portraits for Danganronpa, Part 1: Intellect
I just recently finished Disco Elysium and I adore the game so so much. I'm so autistic for the skill portraits they make me go CRAZY!! So I decided to combine it with my favorite fandom hehe.
Individual images + descriptions and extras under read more
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[CASE-SOLVER] (Represents LOGIC in DE)
Each deduction a step towards the exit. Each case, a leap.
Cool for: Thinkers, Puzzle Wizards, Detached Investigators
It is the deep and primal urge in you to take in every detail, check every little nook and cranny of every room, and pick apart the testimonies of your friends. You can't help but feel like you've been walked through these sorts of things before. You wonder why.
At high levels, you will be able to solve every case with even the most minor of clues, or at the very least try your best. You'll be picking apart your friends' statements, even in simple conversation, making you just delightfully insufferable. At low levels you'll have a hard time with even 9-piece puzzles and asking people smarter than you what anything means.
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[CREATIVE RE-ASSEMBLY] (Represents CONCEPTUALIZATION and VISUAL CALCULUS)
The gift of spatial awareness and the capacity for creativity.
Cool for: Artists, Whoever is reading this, Whoever is typing this
You feel yourself as not exactly an artist, but something close. A conoissuer of all things pure and beautiful in the world, an observer to the finer details of the media you consume, you can pick apart everything and reconstruct already existing concepts in your head with ease and daydreams, and not just with fiction.
At high levels, Creative Re-Assembly allows you to find joy in even the smalles of details, details you easily pick-up and reconstruct in your head thanks to your particular love for the visual arts. However, you'll also become something of a recluse, as the visual arts are just so pure and delightful that you can't waste time on others, conversations that don't involve your beloved media become pointless. At low levels, you struggle with object permanence.
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[ELOQUENCE] (Represents RHETORIC and ENCYCLOPEDIA)
Speak with clarity, walk with culture.
Cool for: Speakers, Smartasses, Trust Fund Kids
Eloquence is key to delivering your truth effectively and in a dignified manner befitting someone considered to be worthy of the time of Nobility, granting you access to good breeding and manners, along with confidence in your speech and the knowledge to back it up.
At high levels, Eloquence will allow you insights and knowledge on the wider, educated world, along with a dignified and refined manner of conversing that makes people really listen. You will become a proud, honorable man, and your voice will become so proud and powerful that it will even be audible from all the way up your ass: where your head is most commonly situated. At low levels, you'll be a boorish negotiator and an unenlightened swine, unable to hold a conversation without resorting to multiple "likes", "umms", and "w-well, uhh-"s.
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[JIKKO] (Represents DRAMA)
You're a performer, now perform.
Cool for: Actors, Liars, Manipulators
A killing game is a game nonetheless, and there is no greater tool to a performer's toolbelt than their ability to lie and immerse themselves in a world that cannot be. You yourself realize, maybe more than anyone, that this whole thing is a sham, a show, and not just the killing game. Everyone is always hiding their true selves.
At high levels, Jikko makes you a master of dramatics, capable of telling when others are lying with ease. High levels also make you an insufferable drama queen, making a mess out of anyone and everything just to keep the spotlight on you for that much longer, deny it all you want, but fame feels good. At low levels you'll have trouble picking out the most obvious lies apart, you cry when people tell particularly nasty yo mama jokes.
EXTRAS
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the-whispers-of-death · 2 months
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What does everyone else already teach? 🫧
Gaz teaches Creative Photograph 1 (which is just using cameras with film), Soap teaches 2D Studio Art 1 & 2 (so basic studio & advanced studio art), Price teaches World History, Stone teaches U.S. History, Kali teaches Chorus, Ladder teaches IT Systems and Applications, Sarabi teaches AP English Literature and Composition, Nala teaches Personal Fitness, Simba teaches Pre-Calculus, Heartthrob teaches Nutrition & Wellness, and my newest OC teaches Environmental Science.
I don't mind if Ghost teaches the same subject as someone else because there's different classes within each subject that can be for different grades (hence why Price and Stone are both teaching history classes). I just need a subject.
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