Can Relate Cause This Is How I Got On The Lautity Train 😅

first batch of my older designs for the gen1 cast :D (u guys get to see older cody again bc same canvas lmao)

closeups and notes under the cut!

- owen and noah are married <3 they love each other dearly

- the drama brothers are still together, though they don’t play as frequently since everyone’s got their own stuff going on

- cody and alejandro are married bc i’m such a fucking sucker for alecody

-career wise,,, still not sure on all of them but my current ideas are: heather is a ceo or an employee in the fashion design industry (also has a fashion/gossip blog on the sidelines), justin still does modeling on occasion but it’s no longer his whole life, trent’s a traveling musician!

Stephanie has got a gun, tra-la-la-la how fun 🎶

sweet dreams!!! even if you aren't going to bed right now, this is a preemptive cast, you will have sweet dreams later

remember kids

Artist 🎨: @vhsdogs

Also, we do not talk about George Washington CANONLY being Athena's son enough like..?

Yep

Okay seriously. Reblog if you're OLDER than 11.

Yep.

Another Max and Steph roleswap au snippet, it’s slowly but surely coming together :)

(Part 1 for anyone who hasn’t read it)

He leans over and squints to see Richie’s work, but doesn’t get very far before he hears someone yell, “Cheaters!” and jumps slightly. He glances behind him to see Grace Chasity scowling at him and shaking her head disapprovingly.

“Oh, hey, Grace,” he says, flashing what he hopes is a charming grin “this isn’t what it looks like.”

“First you try to cheat on the test and now you’re lying about it? See, it’s a slippery slope. This is for your own good,” she replies, raising her voice to yell, “Miss Mulberry, they’re cheating!”

Miss Mulberry gives them a severe look that’s more directed at Max than Richie, but still sends them both to the principal’s office. As they’re waiting outside, Richie hunches over slightly and crosses his arms, scratching at them.

“What, have you never been in trouble before?” says Max “it’s gonna be like two hours detention, tops.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Richie snaps back “you’re the mayor’s son! For some of us lowly peasants, academic misconduct has actual consequences.”

He’s called in and emerges a few minutes later, still not looking too pleased, but substantially less tense.

“You were right,” he grumbles, “two hours’ detention. I guess it’s not the end of the world.”

Max heads in next and principal Blim beckons him to take a seat.

“Hi, Max, long time no see,” he says “if only we could have kept it that way. You know, there’s help available if you were struggling with the material. Why didn’t you seek it out instead of resorting to cheating?”

Because everyone else seems to get it to varying degrees and he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t. Because he’s so lost that he doesn’t even know what he doesn’t know - he wouldn’t know what questions to ask and he can’t pinpoint where he’s struggling when every concept in that class is incomprehensible to him. Because Steph never asks for help with school stuff and he shouldn’t need it, either. He should be able to figure it out like a proper Lauter.

“Desperate times?” he says with a shrug and an impish smile. Principal Blim’s expression remains stern.

“This is no laughing matter,” he says “per school policy, academic misconduct on any test is an automatic zero, which brings your grade down to an F and officially puts you on academic probation. If you can’t bring your grades up within the next couple weeks, you’ll be sitting out the rest of the volleyball season and you can forget about lacrosse. Beyond that, if you can’t turn things around by the end of the semester, we might need to start thinking about having you repeat your senior year.”

“You mean, uh, getting held back?” He can hear his heart pounding in his ears. His muscles tense and he starts to feel dizzy. He tries to take slow, even breaths without being too obvious about it.

“Well, we don’t really like to use that terminology anymore, but essentially, yes,” principal Blim replies.

Next time someone refers to him as a Lauter, he’ll be sure to correct them. He doesn't deserve to be called one. Solomon basically saved him and all he asks in return is that Max stay out of trouble and not flunk out of school and he couldn’t even manage that. He tries so hard to make him proud, but all he’s done is embarrass and burden him.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll get them up,” he says, although he has no idea how he’s going to swing it in such a short time “so, do I have detention or…?” He knows the answer.

“I spoke to your father and we agreed this is punishment enough,” principal Blim replies. Oh, God, he’s not looking forward to that conversation. For once, he actually hopes Solomon is too busy with politics to make an appearance at home. With his luck, today will be the one day he bothers.

“Okay,” he says. Principal Blim dismisses him and Richie’s still waiting just outside, flipping through some kind of comic book.

“What are you still doing here?” he asks.

Richie glances up from his reading. “Well, there’s no point in going back to class now, I’m getting a zero on that quiz regardless.”

Max smiles sheepishly again. “Sorry,” he says.

“Well, whatever, I agreed to it,” Richie says with a sigh “at worst it’ll knock my grade down to an A minus. Honestly, I’m more worried about the attention this is going to attract.”

“You don’t want to attract attention?”

“Uh, no,” Richie says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “I want to be invisible. It’s the only way to survive this hellscape. You wouldn’t get it. You have mayor’s kid privilege and cool kid privilege.”

“Well, if you wanna be invisible, why do you wear a Hawaiian shirt and a vest to school everyday?”

“Hey, the layers are an essential part of the whole equation,” Richie replies indignantly “I can kind of, I don’t know, disappear into them? Besides that, it’s a comfort thing. Like a weighted blanket. Or a hug.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. I’m not much of a hugger, though.” It’s technically not a lie, although it’s more for a lack of opportunity than anything else. He’s not super close with the guys from either of his teams and their physical contact is mostly limited to high fives and chest bumps and maybe the occasional bro hug after a really good game. Solomon’s never hugged him, but sometimes he’ll briefly put an arm around his shoulders or affectionately ruffle his hair when they’re out in public and he thinks there might be reporters around. If he’s lucky, he’ll get a reluctant hug from Steph, but only if they’re making a public appearance and Solomon forces her. She’s initiated exactly one willingly and he still treasures the memory. Sophomore year, on his mom’s birthday, she busted into the boy’s bathroom in search of any geeks who might be hiding in the stalls and instead found him in there all alone, hunched over the sink, sniffling pathetically as he tried and failed to make the tears stop flowing and splashing warm water on his face so that it wouldn’t be too obviously red and puffy. She rolled her eyes and told him to cut it out before anyone saw him being such a little bitch, but still wrapped her arms around him more tenderly than many people would think her capable. “It sucks, I know,” she’d said. To this day, she refuses to acknowledge that it ever happened.

“Whatcha reading?” Max asks.

“Oh, uh, Haikyuu. It’s a sports manga about a high school volleyball team.”

“Oh, that’s sick,” he says, flashing that bright, sincere smile once more “maybe I’ll read it sometime! Steph always says that stuff is for weebs and losers, but she didn’t tell me they made sports manga. And about volleyball? That’s my thing!” He thinks it’s kind of cool that somebody out there is invested enough in high school volleyball to make a series about it and, presumably, at least a handful of people are invested enough to read it. See, people do care about it.

“Yeah, it’s really good. I actually almost tried out for the team because of it, but nerds aren’t allowed to go out for sports.”

Max frowns. “Aw, bummer! I guess it’s too late to join now, but if you want to play sometime, maybe we could get a game going with some of the guys from the team. Just for fun. If you want to.”

Richie shakes his head. The hopeful look Max is giving him almost makes him feel sorry for the guy, cool kid privilege aside. “I don’t think so. Look, it was fun getting busted for academic misconduct together, but we really can’t be hanging out. She won’t like that.”

“You mean my sister? She can’t tell us what to do,” Max replies.

“What are you, new here? Yes, she can. If you think a loser like me can go against her of all people, you’re willfully naive. In fact, I need to get out of here before she sees me talking to you. She’s creamed nerds for less.” As if on cue, the bell rings and he takes off running.

Peter leans up against the wall and tentatively peeks around the corner to make sure the coast is clear before stepping into the hallway. Just when he thinks he’s going to make it to class unscathed, somebody yells,

“Hey, Micro-Peter!” His lips contort into scowl. Not this again. It’s been years, when will people finally drop it?

“For the last time, it’s not a micropenis! It’s grown since then!” He retorts. He turns to see who said it and his heart drops. It’s the absolute last person he should be talking back to if he wants to survive his senior year. Her two lackeys stand on either side of her, arms crossed. Kyle has a wicked grin on his face. Jason’s attempting one, but he’s not very good at it and it looks more like he’s smiling awkwardly to have his school picture taken than anything else.

“What? It’s a compliment,” Steph says with a sneer “you’re, like, famous around here.” She looks over to Kyle and Jason, her lips curling into a diabolical smile. “What do you say, boys? Should we give him special treatment because of his celebrity status and let him off the hook for this hallway infraction?”

“Ha! Yeah,” says Jason.

She looks at him incredulously. “No, obviously! It was a rhetorical question, genius. He’s getting a kick-it ticket! Kyle, restrain the perp.” Kyle eagerly runs over to him and grabs him by the shoulders as Stephanie winds up her foot and kicks him straight in the crotch. Kyle lets go and he collapses in a heap on the highly unsanitary hallway floor as the pain radiates through his body.

“Jesus,” he hisses, struggling to pick himself back up. He eventually succeeds and staggers away, still slightly hunched over in pain.

“Ha, fuck outta here, Jackoffski!” Kyle says. He nudges Jason in the ribs and he joins in the laughter, too.

“Jackoffski. That’s good,” Steph says with a chuckle, raising her hand to give Kyle a high five. Her mood sours when she sees her brother approaching. Technically, it’s not a hallway infraction - he’s not a nerd, so he’s within his rights to be here, but how many times has she told him to stay out of her way at school?

“Oh, hey, sis,” he says with the usual dumb, goofy grin on his face “Kyle, Jason.” He greets them a bit more nervously. He can never be sure when they’re going to start in on him at Stephanie’s behest.

“Hey, dipshit,” she replies and his face instantly falls. Good. It’s only fair. Solomon referred to her as his idiot daughter for the millionth time this morning, but made no mention of his arguably even less intelligent idiot son. It’s up to her to remind him. “Heard you got busted for academic misconduct. You know what dad always says, if you’re going to cheat, do it like a Lauter and don’t get caught. What, couldn’t even pass a little five question quiz by yourself?”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Kyle says with a sneer, then turns to Steph “I was there, he cheated off the gross, sweaty anime kid.”

“Ugh, ew!” Steph says, face contorting into an expression of pure disgust “you actually talked to him?”

“What’s the big deal? You cheat off geeks all the time,” Max points out.

“Yeah, but he’s, like, a step down from a geek.”

“Yeah,” Kyle chimes in “he’s so gross!”

He and Steph both look at Jason expectantly for a moment before he picks up on it.

“Yeah,” he says, drawing out the word “he, uh, he smells like an open asshole!”

Steph directs her look of disgust to him now. “Ew,” she says again “that’s nasty.” Jason frowns.

Right at that moment, the sound of a familiar voice draws closer, chanting, “Hey, ho! Heck no! Co-ed dances gotta go!” Grace marches towards them, holding the “Homec*mming” sign she’s been proudly brandishing every passing period since the first day of school up high.

“Hey, look, it’s chastity belt,” Jason says, seizing the opportunity to get Steph’s attention off of him.

“Yeah, speaking of gross nerds,” Kyle adds.

“Oh, you think she’s gross, do you?” Steph asks. Max can’t help but smirk. He has a feeling he knows what’s coming. “Do elaborate.”

“She’s, uh, she’s such a nerdy prude! A total two-bagger!” Kyle says.

“Ha. Funny,” Steph says flatly. Without warning, she winds up her fist and hits him square in the nose, knocking him off balance. Jason hastily catches him. He groans and blinks up at her.

“I don’t think she’s a two-bagger, whatever that means,” says Max “she’s kinda cute.”

Stephanie’s jaw tenses. Apparently, he hasn’t taken enough from her. Now he’s thinking of going after the girl she likes? She’d better get that idea out of his head and remind him who’s in charge here. She socks him in the face, too and he staggers backwards. Jason catches him and looks down at him and Kyle with concern, struggling to hold them both up. Max brings up a hand to rub the fresh red mark on his cheek, a stupid sad, betrayed, wounded puppy look in his eyes.

“What are you still doing here?” she asks Jason exasperatedly “make like Spankoffski during the MEAP and beat it. And take those two with you. I want to be alone with Gracie.”

Jason turns and begins to walk away, one arm slung around Kyle and the other around Max, both of whom are still a little dazed. He strains under their combined weight and just barely manages to turn the corner before Grace arrives.

“Wait! We’re trying to get the dance canceled! Tell your teammates!” Grace calls after them.

“Hey, Grace,” Steph greets her. How anyone could think Grace is a two-bagger is beyond her. She’s so damn cute with that neat little pink bow around her neck and those stupid butterfly clips placed perfectly in her hair. There’s always been something intriguing about the stark contrast between the whole pastel church girl aesthetic and the burning intensity in her eyes when she’s crusading for one of her causes. “I like your sign. Homecumming. You’re funny.”

“Well, that’s what they might as well call it. Dress it up however you want, it’s still just an excuse for kids to dry hump in the gym.”

“Amen,” says Steph “you stoked or what?” She knows that Grace is not, in fact, stoked about it and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited for the scolding she’s sure to receive. Grace doesn’t disappoint.

“No, Stephanie,” she says, harshly emphasizing each syllable in her name “I am not ‘stoked’ to slip on a pile of wayward spunk while running laps in that gym. And unless you’re stoked to roast on a spit in hell, I wouldn’t say ‘amen’ in such a blasphemous context.”

“Sorry, Grace, I didn’t mean to offend,” says Steph with a smirk “just a little joke.”

Grace scowls. “Hmph. Very funny,” she says.

“You know, it’s no wonder you’re so high-strung, Chas-ti-ty. These levels of repression are deeply unhealthy. I mean, we’re eighteen, isn’t it totally normal to want to dry hump in the gym?”

“Exactly,” Grace fires back “we’re only eighteen. Neither of us should be thinking of such vulgar things, not until we’re safely married!”

“C’mon, you don’t ever think about letting loose and giving into your basest urges? Deep down, you’re a dirty girl, I just know it.”

“Don’t call me that!” Grace says, appalled at the audacity “look, are you going to sign the petition or not? I have to get to class.”

“Sorry, dirty girl, I call ‘em like I see ‘em,” Steph says with a sultry smile. Grace quietly sucks a breath in through her teeth.

“I could sign it,” Steph continues “I could force everyone in school to sign it. I could decide homecoming’s for nerds so that even if the dance doesn’t get canceled, nobody wants to go and your gym floor remains free of wayward spunk. All I ask is one little date in return.”

“Absolutely not,” says Grace indignantly.

“Okay, let me carry your books, final offer,” Steph replies.

“Carry my books?” Grace sputters, willfully ignoring the way her face flushes “that’s even worse! That’s wrong. That’s so, so wrong! You know what? Forget it. I don’t need help from the likes of you.” With that, she storms off. Steph continues to smirk as she watches her go.

Me on my way back to Ithaca (Lunch period) after 20 years (2 weeks) of waiting, a war (math class), and, an epic and treacherous journey (trying to get past slow walkers) to finally see my wife (gf) and son (my phone).

Your honor, he and his brothers don’t give a shit about her phone