Hey, there, Tumblr! This is our new pinned post as of 31/8/25.
Welcome to the mind-prism where everyone is welcomed with a cookie of their choosing and some pretty shinies! (The orange text now leads to our master list for Cookie Chaos, a YDKJ 2011 appreciation WIP that hasnât been worked on in a while.)
But in all seriousness - intro post! Why didnât we make this when we started our blog? *Home-Improvement-Tim-Allen-confusion-grunt*
We are a two-person plural system! This realization is very recent (as of Jul. â26), and weâre sort of bombing around trying to figure out what it means for us. Be patient when it comes to whoâs talking.
Names: You can refer to me, the host, as Pro, Prankster, ProPrankster, or any variation on my username! My birth/preferred names IRL are of no importance here, do not ask.
And I, the alter, am Mesmer Imperio. First name is a reference to a Disney Channel movie of all things. Last name is a Harry Potter spell even though we despise the author and most of the seriesâ aspects.
Age: Minor. We decided weâre not comfortable with sharing our exact age anymore. We do not mind light NSFW, but keep in mind that we are under 18.
We are both bisexual, trigender, have Autism and ADHD, and our pronouns are he/him, she/her, and they/them with no particular preference.
Weâre also hypnotists (though Mesmer has more of the stage presence than Prankster does) and we consider our work to be both magical and a spiritual connection to our gods, Hypnos (Greek god of sleep), and Dionysus (Greek god of altered states). We definitely wouldnât call ourselves a missionary; more of an anti-villain whose skills might just be allll too tempting to ignore⊠/lh /s
Weâre really just here for some positive suggestions and a bit of entertainment (with consent, obviously). No NSFW hypnosis on this blog. None. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada.
We (mostly Prankster) write fanfic and original works, and do lots of traditional drawing. This is a post talking about our fandoms.
If youâre wondering what happened to our blog theme, we changed the colors as of Jul. â26 to make them more accessible for text standards.
Our @ on AO3 is ACinnabarIsNotARuby if you would like to read some of our stuffs (please donât hate comment D:)
Trump supporters, homophobes, transphobes, racists, ableists, sexists, and anyone else uncomfortable with objectively harmless parts of the human spectrum (anti-furries, radfems, etc.) - kindly DNI.
my entire life changed when my dentist told me that the only time my teeth should be touching is when iâm chewing. every single time my teeth are touching i have to separate them. and i noticed that i clench my teeth a LOT.
when your mouth is closed and your teeth are touching or held tightly together, you are unnecessarily straining muscles out of stress. the healthiest way to hold your jaw is slightly apart, where it is relaxed. THIS HELPS WITH HEADACHES
(Also ik for a fact another moot tagged me in this but i never did it cuz i got too busy w stuff-)
@scar-stained-glass @officialsolangelo @the-modern-shakespeare @thatdangspacenerd @noelgrubershungryhombremeal @writingnotes520 + literally every single one of my moots
@eating-the-sand @crunchy-bisquit @collie-starblind @this-mutant-kid @iateallyourchapsticks @floofypinkfox and of course you Milo, and obviously all of my moots even if I don't interact much
@ratseathumans @evil-serialjaywalker @mozimonzter @girlsnap @alienfromthedeepsea @ariszi @chloe-silver @hv-solver and all of my moots I forgot your usernames I'm sorry
omg tttttyyyyyyyyyyyyyy sm for tagging me whaaaaaaaaaaaat omgomg uhh @because-i-do-it-all-the-time @anetherealdawn @deadwo0d @the-colors-of-venus @lunarockss im so sorry if i forgot youuuuuuuuu :(
@cityofangeisislying @lavender-bonbon @lavender-bonbon @knightsofnicola @fyckyeahcats @lady-mordem @allhailgoldenchicken @bykerbitch16 @thislentillikesreading1 and any others who brain won't think of rn, you guys are all awesome, ilysm and no pressure to respond obviously!
@snakegoat @itrappedfann @thebutterflyoficeandwisteria @therealspecterforsaken @kit2k19 @that14sian @bella12cat @j0ker-snatch + all my other mutuals :p
Some of the mutuals I tagged I don't interact with much BUT I STILL LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!! /p
twiddle my fingers and kicks my feet awww thanks you guys!!!!!!!! ><
anyways
GOATED MUTUALS
@yourfavoritemartianfan @spookthelilguy @belltothethirdpower @bl3lley @troutforadoubt @tulacan29 @lena---xd @kriszekeda @ebi-heartsalltheway @bugginwithsif @justraihanah @the-quietrapture @grey-washere (<-STILL not sure how my goat is my mutual đđ) @pearchip @purgetheroots @nullritual
GOATED BLOGS
@an-approaching-askblog @to-you-i-pour-corroded-sun (YES its run by a moot but I DONT CARE. I LIKE THE BLOG.) @hahahaflowers @until-openocean @is-tally-hall-still-on-hiatus @ryland-grace-official-account @just-your-average-robloxian @block-tales-headcanons @dollieclair @allthingswhumpyandangsty @kianamaiart @mimosa-sexypeople-contests-2026 @averyposting @parentscomputer-official @forsakenficsupporter @graves-yard @pawtde-au @reasons-to-not-end-it
@fruitxd @cuntycore @loverofsticksandtrauma @c3lmonochr0meburntt0ast @blue-decimal @wafflez @imforgettingtheirusernooooooooooo and if i somehow forgot you im sorry i love you
FOR THE LOVE OF LITERALLY ANYTHING AT ALL CHECK YOUR BLOG THEME COLOR CONTRASTS. I CANT FUCKING READ YELLOW ON WHITE I CANT SEE YOUR PRONOUNS IN PALE ORANGE ON PALE BLUE I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT YOUR BANNER IS WHEN ITS IN DARK RED ON DARK GREY. FUCK YOUR LIFE
Ok, so if youâve ever heard of âretrofuturismâ (AKA, the aesthetic best described as âwhat the past thought the future would look likeâ), The Jetsons is one of the most well-known examples of that.
Itâs just, a typical American family sitcom of the 60s (complete with both subtle and unsubtle bigotry), but in space. Flying cars, robot maids, apartments that are practically in the sky, all that stuff.
Though the original series is available on Disney+, I will again stress that it is bigoted (mostly sexist but thereâs some racism in there, too), and the content of the actual canon isnât fully necessary to understand my AU.
Iâll try to give as few details as possible each time, mostly because the lore is pretty much a work in progress and thereâs a lot of details so far.
In general, the parents (George and Jane) are the CEO and CFO of a very powerful company that they took over, expanded, and renamed JetX.
The kids (Elroy and Judy) currently work for JetX in engineer and board member positions, respectively. (Theyâve aged into adulthood, but their parents havenât gotten any older for reasons I wonât spoil.)
The âhelpâ (the dog, Sirius and the robot, Pr1ckle) are the only characters renamed from canon (theyâre normally Astro and Rosie respectively), and theyâre the guard dog and maid for most of JetXâs facility.
Georgeâs former boss, Cosmo Spacely, is now working for JetX, and his grown son, an OC named Starling âStarboyâ Spacely, is also an employee/arguably your main protagonist.
Thatâs all for nowâŠunless weâre asked further.
@spacedustthethisuser No context, take my prose and figure this shit out.
Ask questions if you want. TW for intox and cigarettes (and a shitty evil boss).
OPEN TAGS BY THE WAY I WANT LOTS OF PEOPLE TO SEE THIS CAUSE HYPERFIXATION BE HYPERFIXATIONING
A communications device rang. The otherwise stagnant cubicle suddenly possessed the tiny light of an equally sized screen.
âStar?â
Pulling his head up from his desk, a young worker held one finger down on the answering button. âYou donât comm me unless somethingâs important.â
âOr, unless Iâm getting you to stop your snoozing.â Cosmo Spacely huffed as he crossed his short arms. âLuckily, itâs both this time. Jetson wants you in his office.â
âHe couldâve announced that on the systemâŠâ The man sat up, stretched out his back and gestured to the speaker up in the corner of the ceiling. Every cube had one.
Mr. Spacelyâs gaze softened on the display, addressing his child with more kindness than heâd afforded even his past employees. âStarling. He mentioned those ore mines. Werenât youââ
Star spit out his response: âI wanted to practice my carving. And they donât give you any wood, on account of the closest trees being Jupitian!â He pressed the off button, then mumbled, âAnd itâs Starboy.â
The rectangular prism of George Jetsonâs office was roomier and redder than any other place in the JetX building. Like a giant, disgusting hemorrhage. Starboy sat in an overly soft chair, hearing nothing but gears clanking and springs bouncing untilâŠ
âStarling P. Spacely. Punctual as always.â The half-muffled tone of someone who almost always had a cigar between his lips.
âHey, Mr. J.â Star mumbled, not really giving his boss much thought. His eyes wandered to the cabinet behind Jetsonâs chair. 6 chunks of crimsoleum ore, all almost perfectly ellipsoid, sat on velvet black cushions behind locked glass.
At least, there were 6 the last time Star was in here. Now, there were 5.
âThe sample you took was in line to become the next battery for our most treasured robot.â Mr. Jetson began, sitting down.
âThat old maid? Whatâs wrong with the one sheâs got?â The young man leaned back in his seat, tracing the pristine white casing with one finger.
George pulled the cigar out of his mouth and let out a stream of maroon smoke with his next words: âCrimsoleum is not permanent. Itâs more durable compared to elements of the past, but we still have to keep harvesting. Depleted ore can be corrosive enough to melt through solid steel. Do you want that happening to Pr1ckle? To any of our staff?â
âStaffâ only ever referred to the machines, sentient or not. Like the Jetsons cared about what couldâve been a leftover part from the ISS over a flesh-and-blood mortal under their employment.
âNo, I donât want the cleaning lady to kick the exhaust tube, alright?â Star ran a hand through his deep blue hair. âBut Iâm not getting my quota filled.â
âIf that isnât the truth.â George whispered while adjusting his verdant, compound monocle.
The exhausted worker sat forward. âMy request quota.â Pointing a finger where he probably shouldnât have, he continued, âI asked for just a couple of logs two weeks ago. This companyâs got its claws in every planet in the solar system, and you couldnât pop over to Saturn and harvest so much as a ringed bonsai for my break times?â
Mr. Jetson seemed taken aback for a moment. As if it had been some time since someone talked to him that way. âYou really need a bit of wood to carve?â
âDonât blame me for Earthâs extinct trees. Blame the phytoplankton you people cultivated so you could saw âem all down.â The young Spacely wasnât holding back.
JetXâs CEO turned in his chair and looked back at his now-incomplete collection of perfect samples. âDo you know how long it will take us to find another fitting mold for Pr1ckle?â
Long enough you can dust off all your little drones and have them sweep the floors. Starboy only thought this sentence. Why he refrained from speaking it aloud, he wasnât sure. But Jetson turned with a glaring eye all the same.
What? How had he heardâŠ
Starboy reached up. Electrodes on the side of his head, stuck there by a near-silent mechanism in the ceilingâŠand wirelessly connected to Jetsonâs bionic optics. âUgh.â He tore the sticker-like thing off his temple, only for his vision to become tinted in dark red.
George waited for the coughing to die down before loading up another puff of his cigarette. âSay these carvings of yours are really that imperative to the work ethic you possess.â He steepled his fingers together, sat up straighter, and exhaled.
The young man felt fuzzy. Was this what college-kids of the past experienced, breathing in nicotine and vape powder with their own drugs-on-a-stick? âIâŠI fucking need those carvings. They keep my hands steady, my head calmâŠmy headâŠâ
ââŠhead hurtsâŠâ Starboy barely kept himself from whimpering upon the advent of the third cloud. It was like his eyes were heating up with tears, getting so bloodshot that he could barely see past the fog.
George let out a sigh, adding to the haze. âWhat do you think youâll accomplish by trying to fight it? Weâve been over this time and time againâŠit feels better when you donât struggle.â He stuck the cigar back in, unrelenting.
Star just grabbed at his own sides and shut his eyes, head weighed down by a mix of shame and fatigue. âYou just want me toâŠmake a deaaal with youâŠâ His words.
Holding back a smile was usually easy for Mr. Jetson, but not today. âSlurring? HowâŠunprofessional.â
Star looked back up just in time for the fifth and final puff to do him in. Crimsoleum coated his lungs and might as well have moved his lips for him. Slumping down into the seat, he just weakly replied, âI wantâŠtoâŠcarveâŠâ
Mr. Jetson leaned in, watching the red glow brighten in Starling Spacelyâs eyes. He looked like heâd just seen Heaven itself. Not that Jetson believed in any gods. That was ancient practice.
âThe one you made from the sample. Still got it?â
The implied command was easy enough for a toddler to pick up on. Star plucked a small statue out of his pocket, colored with black and red streaks and shaped like a bear curled halfway in the fetal position. âUrsaâŠmy favorite constellationsâŠâ he chuckled, seconds before he just sort ofâŠdropped.
Mr. Jetson took the carving with an examining gaze, then stood to his feet. After unlocking the window with a jet-black key, he placed the ursine shape where the previous oval had been stored. âA theft for a theft. Good work, eh, Spacely?â
Starboy could only see his boss. Not the man whoâd ruined his familyâs life, or the creep who kept drugging him, or the mogul who swamped him with work and labor every other second for hours a dayâŠ
âŠjust. His boss.
âLetâs do a deal. Iâll get you a whole treeâs worth of wood, if you stop whining and let me have my way.â Like an ominous chant, the words cut through all the blurry lines in Starâs head, and he sank into a deep and peaceful slumber.
The last thing he felt was Jetsonâs cold, metal hand on his forehead, pushing him further down into the blood-colored abyss. What his boss did with himâŠwas none of a lowly employeeâs concernâŠ
