#Articles Flat Earth

[billionneuronscurious]

Something fishy. Our world is full of aliens.

The Macrognathus aral, One-stripe spiny eel has its mouth and anterior shaped like a bird's beak. People make artworks by combining different kinds of animals or their forms. People also wonder about aliens, how they would look, and we have had so many drawings, cartoons of aliens. But isn't our own earth, the very world where we live, comprised of creatures alien-like? We have thousands and lakhs of species, all different from one another. And if we were to pick any animal group from these, let's say, fish, even they have so much variety. This variety, again, is in their body shapes, colours, size. And they are found in different habitats - freshwater (rivers, streams, ponds, lakes), saltwater/ marine, estuary. Let's consider their looks and body features. There's this one, in this post itself - Macrognathus aral, One-stripe spiny eel - which has a bird's beak-like anterior. There're 'flying fish' that can fly or glide in air for some time (with help of their fins). There're 'frogfish'. From their name itself, one can understand that they must be appearing like frogs. Walking on the seafloor. 'Sole' are flat fish that can be observed, again, on the seafloor, and with both of their eyes on one side (facing upward), on contrary to the single eye on each side of the fish. There are anglerfish, which lure their prey with their luminescent part. And so many others, grouped together based on their 'usual' characteristics, but still 'unusual'. Our world itself is full of aliens!

- Dhairyasheel Dayal

[jackdawsfavorite]

On Symbolic vs Factual Beliefs

“The Truthers, in short, maintained that the government had gone to extreme measures, including killing thousands of its own citizens, in order to carry out and cover up a conspiracy. And yet the same Truthers advertised the conference online and met in a place where they could easily be surveilled. Speakers’ names were posted on the Internet along with videos, photographs, and short bios. The organizers created a publicly accessible forum to discuss next steps, and a couple of attendees spoke to a reporter from the Times, despite the mainstream media’s ostensible complicity in the coverup. By the logic of their own theories, the Truthers were setting themselves up for assassination.

“Their behavior demonstrates a paradox of belief. Action is supposed to follow belief, and yet beliefs, even fervently espoused ones, sometimes exist in their own cognitive cage, with little influence over behavior.”

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Palmetto Tortoise Beetle: the larvae of this species produce long, thin strands of feces that are gradually woven together to form protective "fecal shields" around their bodies

During its larval stage, the Palmetto tortoise beetle (Hemisphaerota cyanea) uses its own feces to create a defensive layer known as a "fecal shield" or "fecal thatch."

As this article explains:

Most remarkable, perhaps, is the fecal “thatch” of Hemisphaerota cyanea. In the larva of this beetle, the feces are emitted in strands, which, as they build up over the course of larval life, form a loose assemblage that totally hides the larva from view.

The construction of the "fecal thatch" begins almost immediately after the larva hatches. Each larva begins to feed within minutes of hatching, and the very first fecal strands emerge from its anal turret just a few minutes later. Subsequent strands are then produced in quick succession, and they begin to accumulate around the larva's body; as each strand emerges, it is made to curve around the larva's left or right side depending on whether the anal turret is flexed to the left or right. The direction of the curve usually alternates from one strand to the next, ensuring that a nest-like structure is formed around the larva's body.

As they emerge, the fecal strands are gathered together and then cemented into place with the help of an anatomical feature known as a caudal fork. Once an individual strand has been extruded to its full length, the anal turret is rotated upward until it comes into contact with the caudal fork, and the larva then pinches off the strand while secreting a droplet of "glue," which effectively cements each fecal strand into place against the caudal fork.

It generally takes about 12 hours for the larva to finish building its very own "fecal shield."

As an adult, the Palmetto tortoise beetle has another unusual defense mechanism: its tarsi (i.e. feet) are each lined with 10,000 tiny adhesive bristles, and when the beetle is attacked, it can press its feet flat against the surface of a leaf and secrete an oil that allows it to adhere to that surface with an enormous amount of strength. The adhesive mechanism is strong enough to resist pulling forces that are up to 60 times greater than the beetle's own weight for a full 2 minutes; it can resist even greater forces (up to 230 times greater than the beetle's own weight) for shorter periods of time.

According to this article from the University of Florida:

Each of the greatly enlarged tarsi is equipped with approximately 10,000 adhesive bristles. Each bristle has two terminal pads. When walking, only a few of the bristles touch the leaf surface. However, when attacked by a predator, the beetle puts all or nearly all of the bristles in contact with the surface and secretes oil onto the pads. With the adhesive force created by the oil between the leaf surface and tarsi, the beetle is able to clamp its hemispherical shell down tightly against the leaf and has been demonstrated to withstand pulling forces of approximately 60 times its own weight for up to two minutes. This time period is sufficient to thwart the efforts of predatory ants attempting to pry the beetle from the leaf. 

Palmetto tortoise beetles are native to the southeastern United States, and they're especially common in Florida (which is why they're also known as Florida tortoise beetles).

Sources & More Info:

Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences: Defensive Use of a Fecal Thatch by a Beetle Larva (Hemisphaerota cyanea)

Earth Touch News Network: By the Power of the Poop-Shield: Beetle Defenses of the Faecal Kind

Cornell Chronicle: Fecal Defense: This Beetle Uses 'Overhead Sewer System' to Ward off (most) Predators, Cornell Biologists Discover

Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences: Defense by Foot Adhesion in a Beetle (Hemisphaerota cyanea)

University of Florida: Palmetto Tortoise Beetle

Bug Guide: Hemisphaerota cyanea

[kaffkanya]

scratches head dont flame me for this but sometimes i kinda......hate the star trek worldbuilding (this is tos. we're in tos territory) cause they want soooo bad for me to believe that earth is past internal conflict and the federation promotes a classless society and no ones opressed anymore and we dont even use currency! and we aint even colonizers and definitely not a militarized force. far from it, actually. thats like, earths bloody past. we are not Them. but like... i dont know, dude. it wants me to believe in this incredible utopia without touching on the nasty stuff. and that just falls flat in on itself BECAUSE its a 60s show. because it was made during the cold war. and above all else, because its an us show, to us citizens. and gene roddenberry was a fucking cunt.

anyway, everyone should read this article:

[widowsofchaos]

Buckynat

𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

—- even the unloveable can be loved.

pairing // bucky barnes x brown!fem!reader x natasha romanoff

warnings // dom/sub smut (Shibari), cheating, mention of pcos, stretch marks, and hyperpigmentation. mention of an unnamed omc.

a/n // read it here on ao3. I hope whoever requested this, sees this. sorry for taking so long. wrote this in a low point in my life. hope you enjoy. <3

It’s methodical.

A routine well practiced, it’s recited in your footsteps. Auto-piloting through the lavish apartment corridors, a secluded area in the compound that always leaves you in a daze, coordinating footfalls that felt as a maze—- with keys digging in your grip.

The rigid craved curves dig into the flesh of your thumb, wedging the copper tip underneath your fingernail, edging on subtle pain.

The path to the secure living spaces of the earth’s mightiest heroes is a familiar one. The billion-dollar compound is secured and shrouded in silence.

The ideal timing, when the majority of the avengers are in their own worlds. Some are on a mission, and some are just —- not here.

The walk of shame isn’t something you want. Despite being a lab technician for Tony, you don’t try to rub elbows. You’re use to being alone, casted in the shadows—- and just because you warm the bed of two avengers doesn’t mean, you yearn to fuck your way to the top.

Another turn in the hallway, and right at the end of the corridor, is that familiar sterling gray door. Just beyond it is your solitude.

Copper ridges twist and unlock, the crisp air conditioning fans your face as the door opens, relaxing your nerves.

Slipping out of your flats, by a whisk of your ankle, the shoes are perched at the door. Smoothly you glide your wedding ring off—- hide it away in your pocket, all its value is nothing more than a stranger now.

Steadied steps inside the spacious apartment. Pristine, with cool tones. Perched on the polished flooring is a rich violet pillow.

Well versed motions, mutely, you remove each article of clothing. From the flaps of your beige blazer, to your white button blouse, each button snapping open with anxious aggression, to your unzipping your black skirt—— the anticipation of the zipper splitting open against the flesh of your thigh.

Folding neatly, fabric on top of another, resting on the pristine couch.

It’s all arousing.

To be owned. To be eaten carnally. To be degraded, reduced to nothing. Some days, the aftercare is merely an afterthought, you think you don’t care for it, because it’s a belief of not deserving of it.

Some days, you depress yourself, thinking that you’re just a sex toy to a bored couple. But, when they touch you, caress you—- your heart settles, and you feel safe.

Grateful to them, for once —- in all the years of your life, you never once accepted your sexuality, nor explored regions of intimacy. Embarrassed of extra flesh you carry, and scars, finally, to have anyone adore these flaws.

To be taken care of is still a foreign concept, a notion that even your boyfriend doesn’t even entertain so often.

A few kisses here, and a stroke against the meat of your thigh there—- no, he doesn’t clean up the rawness, the humanity of facing the aftermath of sex.

Nor does he want to. He doesn’t want to touch the darkness that casts upon your inner thighs.

Rarely any relationship birthed from obligation promises a happily ever after.

Now you sit, kneeling on the lush readied cushion, just for you. Awaiting for the touch, the manhandling. The silence prevails in the apartment space. Enveloping you with bated breath.

The walls have eyes.

They’re watching you. You can feel the forest green and icy blue hues stalking you akin to predators in the wild, awaiting their vulnerable prey.

Goosebumps form on your flesh, palms resting on your knees. Skilled and lethal, years of expertise—- they tread in silence. All the more erotic, to be caught off guard, knowing that you can never win. Never hide from them.

They can sniff your soul a mile away.

They need control. After decades of being subjected forcefully to commit heinous acts —- even still seen as criminals, despite saving the world numerous times.

Used as puppets, with no autonomy. Both learned through each other —- even in the most violent environments —- that safety isn’t impossible, if it's through tender intimacy, or communication.

Mastered the art of speaking with just their eyes.

A moment passes, and you wait, as a loyal dog. It turns them on. To see you obedient, even when you’re trembling in your skin, to be touched.

Staring at the wall ahead, fingers fidget against your bare thigh, your bum seated against the soles of your feet.

You didn’t even hear him.

“Privet, moy pitomets.” Hello, my pet.

The vowels slip from his lips with ease, only a few words have been taught to you routinely, but the language remains foreign.

“Let me see your nails.” It’s not a request. Bucky inspects each nail closely. He sighs disappointedly to see swollen red cuticles.

“You’ve been biting.”

“More like ripping.”

Bucky gently smacks your fingers, with his right hand. “What did I tell you?” He chastises, his breath warm and wispy against the shell of your ear.

“Not to do that.”

Your head bows submissively, a twinge of genuine shame birthes itself, all your thoughts consume your mind, yes, yes, punish me, I deserve it.

“And yet, you deliberately disobey us.” A silky, Russian accent that edges on a moan with every vowel. Not daring to turn your face, gracious legs step into your eyesight.

Mindless picking relieves your mind from the small stresses. You don’t tell them the personal issues, just enough to indicate that there is a broken marriage, that was already fractured before the consummation.

“I want the pain.”

You are nothing, you are void of all that is pure. You deserve it—- “Pain, moya lyubov'?” My love. Natasha asks, kneeling to your eye level, but your eyes are downcasted.

Her index finger glides under your throat up the slope to your chin, sending a shiver down the terrain of your spine. Her finger curves, lifting your gaze to hers.

“Is that all you want?” Natasha speaks with silk on her tongue. Smooth metal fingers tread and engulf your throat, a caressing fist.

Bucky’s soft pink lips shower your check in tantalizing kisses—- feathery. Leaving you wanting more, his flesh hand weaves in your hair, stroking your scalp.

Pulling you to him, controlling you, handling you his way. Natasha hums, with that smug smirk she always dons.

“No.” You wheeze a whine, eyes dazed.

“Bucky hasn’t even touched you yet,” Natasha teases, her eyes catch your hip lifting just a bit, craving to be touched, “—- and already you’re cock drunk.”

You whine a whimper.

-

Swinging mid-air, bondaged with a blindfold shielding your eyes.

Washed in cold water, and oiled. Soft and flexible—- intricately hemp tied around the ceiling’s hook, and clings to your anchoring body.

Mischievously, you’re tied in a position that splits your legs apart, arms bent back as a bird’s wing, and digging into your torso in pretzel knots. Heavy breasts hang freely as the hemp is tied akin to a bralet, roving between the hills of each tit.

It’s been hours. Three to be exact. A few breaks in-between.

A gust of breath escapes you, panting as your body settles from another orgasm. Vibrating from your skin, if you could, you would melt within these knots.

Bucky’s thumbs caressing and digging into your hips assuring you.

But, some moments, you cringe at the sensation of his fingers stroking your spilt thighs. Fleshy, and darkened—- you swallow that tightness in your throat with soft moans.

Eye-lids wrinkling behind the shrouded fabric, but you swallow the brewing prickles in your throat. Masking the cringe deep inside.

Natasha is completely naked, unbuckling the leather strap from her hips; smugly staring as Bucky has been ravishing your soppy cunt. Your skin is coated in a dew of sweat, as faint purplish handprints bloom on the swell of your hips.

Both of them have been taking turns on you. Natasha fucking you deep with her strap, and Bucky with his cock. Having you eat Natasha out, her finger gripping your hair as Bucky savored you, thighs split. Just a moment ago, Bucky stuffed your mouth full as Nat’s long smooth pink dildo had you crying with pleasure.

“Hmm,” Nat hums to herself teasingly. Her slender ivory fingers caress your chin, lifting your head. She can see your chest heaving, you’ve been wrung loose. “Maybe we should stop.”

Bucky’s teeth nip at the rope, his lips gliding against your shoulder blade. “Maybe.” He taunts. “You probably had enough.” He whispers in the shell of your ear.

You mumble, but the words just can’t fall out.

“What was that?” Natasha’s brows lift, “We couldn’t hear you.” Her fingertips tapping the underside of your chin.

“Please fuck me.” Wringing your hands against the tight rope, a low whine stretches. Bucky tsks. “Please.”

Both chuckle. Insatiable, Nat mumbles with a lazy grin.

Bucky’s fingers glide against your split mound, fondling the empty connection between you both. With gentle ease, he readies himself inside you, following with a smooth thrust.

Bucky pauses for a second, and sighs. He looks down at his cock with realization, a lazy smirk. You turn your head over the slope of your shoulder, despite being blinded, “What’s wrong?” you pant.

“I guess we forgot a rubber.” Bucky laughs. Natasha breathes a chuckle, murmuring that she’ll get another one real quick.

Adrenaline rushing to your ears. You utter a small no, their smiles fade a little, but you don’t see it. Your skin feels the shift in the air, the quick silence.

Like vomit, your words spew.

“I can’t have children…. it’s okay.” You gesture over your shoulder, tugging on the knots. Not enjoying the silence, you swallow.

“Cum in me, please!” You wail, brows pinching. Tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

Curls stuck to your face by the sheen of your sweat, nearly tangled, and tears kissing your lashes. “You don’t have to be so cautious.” You laugh through a squint, blur of gray cotton. Laughing to guise the bitter twinge, making your words softer.

An odd glimmer passes through Natasha’s face. But it’s gone as fast as it came. Soothingly caressing your cheek, a flutter of her gaze catches Bucky, who nods so tenderly. Speaking through the silence, the need for the rush now dissipates to a kinder pace.

Natasha retrieves another condom, as Bucky’s thumbs caress you in circular motions. One part of your mind enjoys it and the other is sinking into itself, reminding you that he is touching your fat.

Bucky leans down, kissing the arch of your spine, “Remember your safe word—-” another kiss, “we’ll stop if we have to.” Two more kisses, and he gently adjusts by your waist, so his tip is just at your entrance. Curved and hung, stroking through your lips.

Natasha’s hands cup your cheeks, “Remember to breathe.” Your skin yearning with lust, and desperation. Just as your lungs expand, Bucky slowly sheethes himself inside you, earning a breathy sigh from both of you, his eyes fluttering.

Moaning low, as an odd sense of comfort. That he is meant to be here, inside you. A reminder that you are wanted. The taste of Nat lingers on your tongue, and it feels like home.

Starving for that high, reaching for it one more time. Your body can feel every thrust, but your mind is drifting. Stifling the thoughts, you try to focus on the pleasure.

Your body is a spongy blob, in need to be used. You are nothing, and the void must be filled. With a cock, or a strap. Replace the sorrow with the crack of a belt, or a striking hand.

Bucky fucks deep inside you, your breathing becoming heavy. Nat holds your cheeks, kissing you, swallowing your sounds. Her warm tongue slipped inside, dancing against yours.

It’s all so suffocating. To be between their presence. Bucky hit a curved angle, making you cry out.

Yes—- the familiar knot is tightening. The curve of Bucky’s cock stroking and punching that spot, that delicious spot—- his balls slapping your swollen clit.

Soft moans and guttural grunts dance together in the air. Natasha’s slender fingers gripping your throat, no doubt, she’s touching herself. To see her husband fuck animalisticly their third.

String of slick connects between Bucky’s sac and your swollen clit, spilt and weeping on his cock.

The pit in your belly is tightening, so close. Swirling thoughts plague your mind, distracting you from your approaching high. Trying to pay attention to Bucky’s grunts, and gripping hands, but the thoughts of ugliness and shame rip at your skin.

Closer… closer … closer…

A gasp and …. nothing.

“I didn’t … cum.” You spoke in a hush. Eyes moon-wide, lashes blink against the cotton, disbelief eroding within your veins. Staring through the barely mesh blind-fold. Your breathing becomes short.

“That’s okay.” Nat says, caressing your scalp. She’s a slight blur in your hazy vision, coming forth to you with gentle ease.

But all you feel is the rush of blood flooding your ears.

“I — didn’t cum.” You repeat, breasts heaving, the cage of your ribs erratic with breath.

“And that's—- okay.” Bucky repeats. His lips kisses your cheek, caressing the skin with his thumb. Bucky moves around you, being careful with your body. Blood rushes to your ears, dissociating into the void, as their footsteps fade from your mind.

Your head hangs low, eyes watery, and humiliated. Expecting at any second for them to cut you down, and make your grand escape. Ensure that you must resign, never show your face again, pretend you never existed—-

Soft hands gently start cutting at the rope, as another pair grabs at your body, making sure you don’t fall. With kind precision, Bucky pulls you to his warm body. Natasha flicks at the rope, splintering fibers into split ends. A white towel wrapped around his torso.

He caresses your body into a hug, and you’re speechless. Nearly sinking into your skin, like being swallowed by a black hole. Cringing at the realization of being naked. Trying to muster the words, to tell them that you don’t need help, and you’ll be leaving, but Bucky just carries you as a feather.

“Where—-” your words die in a groggy grunt, “—- where are you taking me?” Your eyes are bleary, brows knitting in frustration. Bucky chuckles, “You need a bath.” His lips curl into a smile.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to—” your words are snuffed by a shush, Natasha’s fingers stroke the hairs clinging to the sweat of your brow.

“We’re going to take care of you.” Spoken with such firmness, as if saying you’re not winning this. With such declarations in their tones, it’s enough to shut you up.

And they did. They took such care of you.

Bathing you with gentle hands. You can feel they were deep in thought, a shift now in the air. Silently cursing at yourself for being so compulsive with your words, sitting in the bath with empty eyes.

Pampered you with a soapy scrub, and comforting silence. Naked among each other, but not sexual. Bathing one another, as you slip inside the bubbles. The water is warm, and it nearly lulls you to sleep.

All you can feel is hands holding you gently, and the blur of the dim bathroom lights.

-

The phone is stuck in the grip of your palm, blankly staring at the screen. Desperately your thumb hovers over the keyboard, itching to just rip the band aid off.

You peek over the hill of your shoulder, making sure Nat and Bucky are sleeping. Fiddling with the hem of Bucky’s shirt, you always loved wearing his clothes— spacious and big to conceal your fluffy body; plus, it smells like him.

You couldn’t sleep. Restlessly your mind raced. The pit of your belly pinches, as you set your eyes back on the screen.

His contact picture mocking you.

Let him know. It’s over. No more enduring the humiliation of being nippicked, for what you can’t control. Why continue being with someone who doesn’t love you for yourself? Who always makes you feel less than dog shit?

A soft hand glides up from your shoulder blade to the cusp of your neck, earning a gasp from you.

Your eyes flit to your side, to see Natasha’s sharp eyes staring into your screen. It’s hard to read her face, it’s … void.

“I can’t have children either.” Nat whispers. Her eyes shift to you, a small smile lifts. “Doesn’t make us any less of a woman.” Her eyes blink with sympathy, unflinching.

No quivering in the truth. That’s one of the best aspects of Bucky and Natasha. Neither one lies. It’s always been pure honesty, never looking away from shame.

You wish to master that. To not let shame eat at your core, till it’s festering. To the point of crippling anxiety, falling apart at the idea of being perceived.

And yet, these two, have cracked you open, physically and emotionally—- has seen every bit of you with no judgment clouding their eyes. Found beauty and value within you—- but is it love? What if they found another?

You wouldn’t find this connection again—- “Don’t get lost on me.” Nat’s voice pulls you back, her knuckles grazing against your forearm.

“We can help you pack your things.”

Your brows pinch with confusion. Nat breathes a laugh. “While he’s gone, we can help you move in.” The light of the phone dimmed, but Natasha can still see through you. Her observant eyes unblinking.

“You want me… to move in?” Your voice floats on a whisper, feeling that anxious drop in your belly.

“We’ve been wanting that for so long.” Natasha says. Her eyes flew over to Bucky’s sleeping body, “I had to stop him from just taking you.” She smiles, laughing a bit.

“He was ready to tear the door down.” The image of Bucky barging in your home, and just taking you sent a jolt to your core—- so rugged. Natasha’s eyes gaze back to you. Her shiny nails softly graze your forearm.

“We love you.”

Those three words nearly make you cry. Yet, you have no love for yourself. It felt compulsive to ask—- “Why?” the question just spews. Natasha’s brows pinch.

“How can we not?” She asks, as if it’s the most ludicrous question. Your eyes filter away, staring down in shame. The light of the phone screen goes out, the darkness becomes your veil.

“Because my body is ruined.”

Natasha remains silent, you can only see a glimmer of her through the dark, not even the night slipping through the blackout drapes.

Soft fingertips graze the outline of your shoulder, it was the warm flesh fingers you are so familiar with.

“You’re not ruined.” A soft husk whispers behind you. With how he moves in silence, it should have startled you, but it didn’t. You felt Bucky’s breath fan the skin of your shoulder, caressing you with a shiver in its wake.

You have no doubt he was listening to the entire conversation— nothing could ever be hidden from either. You shake your head, your lips caving into your mouth into a tight lip.

“A lot of people would disagree with you.” You say, it’s second nature to speak with such defeatism, to never accept a compliment. It was always a rare occasion to be told that you were beautiful.

“Many people can fuck off.” Natasha snips. Her finger curls under your chin, making you look at her. A swirl of frustration and sympathy tastes her ivory-skinned features, illuminated by the dim darkness.

“I wish it was that easy.”

“It is.” Bucky hisses low, “You’re making it difficult for yourself.” His words sting, but the truth is all too bare.

He exhales a sigh, so soft you barely hear it. Your eyes staring into the void, straining to see your lap before you.

By now, the light of your cellphone is gone.

Bucky’s flesh knuckles stroke your shoulder blade, you can feel he wants to speak more; but he graces you with the chance to swallow his words.

“What would the team say?” Unshed tears sting your oculus, filtering from your left to right. Your head shakes in disbelief, trying to find words; but the vowels seem to limp from your tongue.

“What— wh…” you stammer, nose flaring to keep the tears at bay. “The three of us…” your lips wrinkle, “I don’t fit…”. Your entire face prunes in despair now.

“How would that look?” You speak hastily and anxiously, your throat feels raw, chest rising and falling rapidly. You can feel their eyes piercing through your entire body, the rush of blood and heat captures your ears.

“It doesn’t matter what people think.” Natasha says, her tone is edged. Her face leans in closer, her breath fanning your face.

“It matters to me.” You sniffle, your fingertips pointedly hitting against your chest. “I have lived my life by everybody’s opinions…their taunts… I… I don’t know how I…” you begin to fumble over your words again.

“None of them would be against us.” Bucky says softly. “Or mock us.” He takes your fingers into his, interlocking. You can feel his warmth encasing you, from his thumb stroking your knuckles.

“We wouldn’t let them get the chance.” Bucky’s voice is low, an edged husk.

“I don’t want to embarrass you.” You spoke in a whisper, grinding your teeth, restraining the itching in your throat. Droplets of tears rain down your cheeks, soaking the jut of your chin, down underneath your neck.

“We’re not embarrassed.” Natasha’s fingers guide your chin. “Far from it.” She kisses your scalp, earning just the softest hint of a smile.

A pregnant pause.

“I would love to live with you…” you speak as soft as a baby’s breath, “to feel loved for once…”. A resignation rests on you, weighing heavier and heavier. A battle of resistance, to grasp violently onto the sadness, and on the other side, is acceptance.

Just give in. Don’t you want love?

It’s not important what I want.

It’s all here… in the form of two souls… doesn’t it feel nice?

It does feel nice.

“What do I say… to him?” The mention of your boyfriend back home stirs an odd tug in your belly. “How do I tell him? A fight can break out—”

“How about you sleep on it.” Bucky interjects, as Natasha’s open fingers stroke your spine. You nod, trying to swallow the harshness in your throat, muttering an okay under your breath.

A fight won’t happen, Bucky thinks, he won’t let it happen. He can sense Natasha feeling the same. A silent agreement that if anyone tries to hurt you —- it would end quickly and six feet deep in dirt. But, your anxiety vibrates too loud at the moment, it’s best to just rest now.

Laying down between them, sinking into the sheets. Natasha and Bucky encase you, as Bucky puts your phone on the nightstand. Out of sight, out of mind.

You let your last message to your now ex-boyfriend be your white lie of sleeping over at your mother’s. Now, your bones melt into the mattress, tucked between two bodies—- you can start anew in the morning, till then, you just want to rest with the two people who make you feel safe.

[varijeri]

so i was watching Fit's stream and he was cleaning up a Federation outpost.... what's up with the outpost names huh? long post warning TL;DR at bottom.

Sector A's outpost names are derived from Slavic mythology; specifically special places from the myths. after searching these names online i found this website: https://meettheslavs.com/slavic-mythological-places/ taking from the website; 1. there's a "mystical mountain of Vitor" that's "built in heaven" and "hard to find because it changes its location as soon as the wind blows in a different direction". it's also said to have dragons living on it (this is the one Fit was sent to for repairs, and it also had weird blue draconic-looking creatures around it. it was also an icy mountain...) 2. there's a "Buyan/Bujan Island", described to "appear and disappear with the tides" and be the "dwelling place of three brothers, the Northern, Western and Eastern winds". 3. there's a "Kingdom of Opona", an "imaginary place [that] existed at the edge of the Earth which [ancient Russians] imagined as a flat plane." it was believed "free and happy [peasants]" lived in this country under a "true and just" ruler. 4. there's a "Vyraj/Viraj", a "resting place for the souls and spirits" AKA the equivalent of Heaven in Slavic mythology. it's "a place where birds find their retreat in the winter". (notably this outpost is inactive) 5. lastly there's a "Nav/Nawia", a "mysterious place for the souls of the dead", and "often interpreted as another version of the imaginary place Vyraj", so AKA Hell or the Underworld. (the Hell outpost is active but not the Heaven outpost???) If Outpost Vitor sort of matches the description from the myth, maybe the other outposts do too? so like Bujan is on an island in the sea, Opona is super far out in a village maybe, Viraj and Nawia i have no clue... Sector B's outpost names are derived from Norse mythology; specifically Norse gods. being a nerd i noticed this instantly which was what tipped me off to search up Sector A's names. taking from various sources, but mostly from their Wikipedia articles: 1. "Tyr" is an one-armed god representing justice and fair treaties despite being a god of war, who lost his arm in the process of binding Fenrir the wolf. he dies in Ragnarök. 2. "Odin/Woden/Wodan" is the ruler of Asgard, the All-Father, and the one-eyed god of wisdom war, and death. he presided over Valhalla, a sacred hall that housed dead warriors in preparation for Ragnarok. he dies in Ragnarök. 3. "Thor/Donar" is probably the most popular Norse god, the god of thunder. the embodiment of strength, he is the protector of the Æsir and the humans. he dies in Ragnarök. 4. "Máni" is the god of the Moon and brother of Sol, the goddess of the Sun. they is eternally chased by Skoll and Hati, two wolves who seek to plunge the world into chaos by eating the Sun and Moon. he dies in Ragnarök. 5. Outpost Frïja I believe is "Frigg", the Queen of Asgard and the goddess of marriage, family and motherhood. she lives in Ragnarök. notably, all five gods (and goddess) lend their names to days of the week (Máni -> Monday, Tyr -> Tuesday, Woden -> Wednesday, Thor -> Thursday, and Frigg -> Friday). none of these outposts are active, they are all inactive or under maintenance, so i'm inclined to believe these aren't as important right now as compared to Sector A... still, these outposts are named after Slavic and Norse myths for a reason possibly so these might be significant. Nothing particularly comes to mind but if anyone has any idea feel free to add on... TL;DR: Federation Outpost names from Fit's stream have Slavic/Norse mythology inspired names, possible significance?

[thatfrenchacademic]

OK so about this "34, unmarried and childless" article about Taylor Swift. Let me tell you about Scam Academia.

TL;DR: some mediocre dude had a half baked opinio nabout Taylor Swift that everyone hated, but like Mother Nature I let nothing go to waste.

Here is the take you have not heard yet, about this opinion: this guy is actually a good case study on how to develop your academic literacy, aka how to recognize a true academic from a scammer who presents themselves as an academic, but is just a crook. In a world of pseudoscience and pretend experts that have enough resources to organize their flat earth conference, let me walk you through the world of Scam Academic, where for a few thousand dollars, you too can claim to be a researcher with a doctorate! Follow me down a rabbit hole that I hate with my whole heart!

Preamble: I have zero skin in the TS game. I don't get the hype, the lore, the obsession with those 2000s bracelet or dissecting every single line or every single song.

But then. Some guy had to write an op-ed stating Taylor Swift was not a good role model for girls ("in the US and beyond"), and it is a terrible take on so many level, but here is the thing. Whiny conservative think-pieces about highly successful women who should get back to the kitchen and think of the children are nothing new. But this one is different.

This one is fucking terribly written. It's just an abysmally written blog post. Genuinely one of the worst thing I have ever read, and I read hundreds of undergrad essays every year for a living. It contradicts its own arguments in every paragraph. It over-explains concepts like it's a high school essay and he's trying to meet the word count. It says "this is a valid question worth asking" but does not actually explain why it is worth asking. It is so, so, so bad.

Conservative writers are usually more the "high brow, drowning you in grandstanding" kind of writers. They are, usually, good technical writers - it's the one thing that helps make their talking point sound legit and palatable. So an abysmally bad conservative writer? Ok, I am intrigued.

The author is one John Mac Ghlionn. I look up the guy on Google and...

Oh.

Oh no, John.

Spewing conservative bullshit at women AND a researcher? You're in my turf now, John. You could have continued to cover UFC Pillow Fight Championships, or alien technology and other riveting subjects, but you had try to connect two brain cells to argue a thing, and slap "researcher" on top of it. Now I'm offended, as a researcher.

1. I am sorry, researcher WHERE?

Ok so if one is a "researcher", it means one conduct "research". and contrary to what backyard conspiracy theorists think, "researcher" is an actual job. It is an actual professional occupation. You get an actual contract, and you are paid actual money. By an actual employer: public (University), private (Think tank, private company), or a mix of both (at Unviersity, but on a privately funded project, for example).

So where does our John Mc Ghlionn work?

Well. Nowhere, as far as I can tell.

John does not list any affiliation. Usually, when they write, academics will state their exact position (Researcher, Doctoral Researcher, Associate Professor, Chief Engineer, Head of Department, Research Director...) and where they work. For example:

That's what it is supposed to look like.

But John? Nope, no affiliation anywhere, on anything he ever published. That's a pretty massive read flag. Research takes ressources: at the very least, time and access to database and documentation, even in social sciences in humanities. You may not need a lab, but you sure as hell need money and full access to JStore at least.

So I thought he was just one of these "I google therefore I research" kind of dude. But then, out of nowhere:

I am sorry. He has a WHAT.

2. I am sorry, a Doctorate from WHERE?

So. One thing to claim to be a researcher when you are just a professional yapper. Another to claim a DIPLOMA.

And not any diploma. A doctorate.

Let's pause. "Doctorate" is actually a really broad umbrella term of all doctoral-level degrees. The most famous (and most prestigious, for better and worse) is the PhD, but a PhD is technically just one of many Research Doctorate of, theoretically, the same level (cue this helpful reddit post). A second category of doctorates are the Applied Doctorates, and while there is Discourse on where they sit vis-a-vis PhD, the easiest is to consider that they are not research-oriented. They are hands-on, practice-oriented degrees. For example: you can practice medicine with an MD. You don't need a PhD. You can still call yourself a doctor, though.

Alright, so which of these does our friend Johnnie has? Or is currently enrolled in? And in which University?

You will notice that John does not go by "John Mac Ghlionn PhD" or even "Dr John Mac Ghlionn", when you just KNOW he is the sort of person that would but that shit everywhere. And no shade here, because I, for one, do put that shit everywhere. Maybe he is just currently enrolled in a program and has not graduated. Fair.

Since John does not list affiliation, I had to switch from academic to internet sleuth, and dig out this article:

But we learn that in 2021, John was a "PhD Scholar" in "Parkmore Institute". "PhD Scholar" is not a title I am sued to, but it's also not raising any red flag: ongoing PhD researchers can be "PhD students", "PhD fellows", "PhD researchers"... It varies from country to country and from institution to institution, so why not "PhD Scholar".

Let's check out the Parkmore Institute.

Ok, they are not a traditional university, but they appear to be more of a postgraduate institution: offering only higher level degrees, not undergrad courses. Once again, not necessarily a red flag. They are usually very heavily research focused, and embrace the "research" side of academia more than the "teaching" side. In Germany, the Max Planck Institutes are research-only institutions who deliver PhDs. They conduct cutting edge research, in part because their researchers rarely have to spend time teaching.

But that is NOT the Parkmore Institute. First of all, let's see what programs they offer:

None of them are legit.

And I mean, none of them are recognize as even Applied/Professional Doctorate by the National Science Foundation (US based). And while a PhD in Human sexuality would be perfectly valid, but I'm going to on a limb and say I have some serious doubts about "Bodymind Healing" as an academic field.

These are not legit academic degrees.

What they are, is an excellent money-making opportunity for anyone working at the Parkmore institute. Students will pay, at the very least:

And 60% of this goes to their " faculty mentor". The Parkmore institute provides no research fund, no desk or office space (they are entirely digital), no access to any resources or library, not even a Zoom account. There is also no mention of any timeline: how long a PhD take to complete? Who knows. 6 months ? A year ? 5 years? What are the requirements to graduate ? Who knows ! And I would need to pay $200 to get in touch with them, so I sure as fuck won't know any time soon!

But let's get back to our friend John. Remember that he stated, in that 2021 publication, he was a "PhD Scholar" at Parkmore ? Well that's a shame because Parkmore does not deliver PhDs. Ain't that a bitch.

ALSO. Parkmore helpfully has page with all their Doctoral Recipients! And guess who is NOT HERE ! That's right, our Johnnie !

How can this be ? Well, three possibilities:

John is still not done with a PhD. After 4 years ? In a crank university where I am pretty sure I can submit the first draft of a litt review and graduate ? Nah

John never completed the thing. Boo, that would mean that John is lying, when he says he has a doctorate. Bad, bad.

John did graduate, and obtained his doctorate in [scrolls back to check] psychosocial studies, and then was not put on the website or was withdrawn some time before today, as Parkmore institute ended their affiliation with him, as per this bit in their application form

A shame, really. If John had been affiliated with the Parkmore Institute, it would give a shred of legitimacy to anything he writes to anyone just skimming.

Now, I would love to get in touch with the Parkmore Institute and ask to see John's doctoral work, which they DO have, since the application for also has this very interesting section:

(definitely very legit, very normal).

But I am not sure how I would even phrase that request without transparently going

"hey, would love to see what bullshit research is being done over there, since one of your graduate decided to go all Handmaid's tale for the last 2 years".

If anyone feels like sending that email, I am begging you to keep me in the loop.

3. Back up, back up, what's up with that article?

Remember the article where he was listed as a "PhD Fellow"?

Well, about that... No. Welcome to the world of predatory publishing, one more cog in the Bullshit Academic ecosystem.

First: not at article. It's a "commentary". Could be worth something ia good journal, but still would not be a piece of research. But that is the least of its sins.

Its sins are being published in a journal called "Sociology and Criminology-Open Access", by a publisher called "Longdom". Longdom publishing has a bunch of journals on a lot o different fields, with the particularly of being predatory; they will publish absolutely anything you send them, as long as you pay their Article Processing Charges:

There are entire lists of Predatory journals on the web, you can find on here and another here , Longdom Publishing is in both.

This is how John can publish this last minute, Redbull-and-weed-induced essay in an actual journal, with an abstract that, I kid you not, finishes with "Please find the paper attached." He slapped together a shitty essay about people in India are poorer and therefore more likely to exhibit psychopathic traits and therefore engage in corruption, purely base on vibes. It does not even deserve be given any consideration, not even to be debunked. There is nothing to be debunked. This would be a failing grade for a 1st year intro class.

CONCLUSION

On the surface, John Mac Ghlionn is the poster boy of failed edgelords who really wish they were Jordan Peterson, but unfortunately are just Doug, the guy for 10th grade who failed the Literature class and decided it was because litterature was too woke today anyway.

Beneath the surface, John is a case study in Scam Academia, and the proof that no matter how bad actual academia is, Scam Academia can always get worse.

A quick checklist to go through whenever someone claims be a researcher, an academic, a fellow, a doctor, a PhD or anything of the sort:

What is their affiliation? Is this a legitimate organization?

Do they have a PhD? Another doctorate degree? From where?

Have they published ? Where is it published?

[neos127]

DIE FOR YOU — SIM JAEYUN (chapter ten)

spider-man!jake x fem!reader; synopsis. university student and daily bugle intern jake sim does his best to juggle having two separate lives. unfortunately y/n, who also interns at the daily bugle, is obsessed with finding out who the popular vigilante ‘spider-man’ is. with their constant close proximity and jake’s new found crush, y/n is closer to figuring out his secret identity by the day.

jake couldn’t face you the next day and explained that he had to skip out on finishing the article so he could check up on riki. the two of you had plenty of time so he wasn’t compromising anything— well maybe your relationship.

you never replied after jake’s pathetic text and he felt mortified, barely getting any sleep as he stared up at his ceiling the whole night. between the two hours and sleep and excessive amount of sirens blaring outside his window, jake was a zombie throughout the whole school day.

but as he promised, he still hopped on the subway and trudged over to the upper east side to visit his friend.

as soon as the elevator door opened, jake froze. he forgot how insane the nishimura residence was. he hadn’t been there since he was about ten. when the two approached their teens, riki had wanted to hang out everywhere else but home. jake assumed it was because of riki’s issues with his father but he also had the sneaking suspicion that the younger boy felt bad about having jake over. riki hated to show off and the penthouse he lived in was way more luxurious than the flat jake grew up with in queens.

jake never minded, he always thought the place was cool anyways.

stepping into the giant living room, jake looked over to the tall windows, finding riki sitting in front of them. he smiled, knowing how much the boy liked to watch the city ever since he was little.

“riki…hey.” jake called out, walking over to him. the boy smiled, a genuine smile that made jake’s lips turn upward. he always had a soft spot for the younger boy, and seeing him happy made him happy.

“how are you feeling?” jake asked after a while, once the two had finished catching up. they were now sitting outside, enjoying the last of the nice weather before it got cold. jake concluded that the balcony was bigger than his whole apartment (he hadn’t remembered it that way), but it was cool to have a view of the whole city below.

“i’m great. never been better actually.” riki replied, his tone light. jake eyed him wearily, wondering what exactly his dad gave him. he didn’t want to be invasive and ask, but ultimately he was worried for his friend’s health.

“so um— what exactly did your dad do to cure you?” jake asked hesitantly, not being able to meet riki’s eyes. the younger boy laughed at his shyness and shook his head.

“jake, you’re my best friend, you don’t have to be afraid to ask me stuff. but uhm, my dad and his team at muracorp had been studying something otherworldly. they had been studying it for years, doing some trials and figuring out what its use could be for.” riki began to explain, making jake’s eyebrows shoot upwards when he said ‘otherworldly’.

“i’m sorry— as in not from earth? something alien?” he asked in disbelief.

“yeah, definitely alien. one of team members tested it, but it didn’t seem as attracted to him. the alien attaches itself to people, but it has to want to. although with the short time that it was attached, it made the guy stronger and faster and overall just better. it improved his health significantly even though he is perfectly healthy. they concluded that it could be a cure so my dad asked me if i wanted to try. i was a bit hesitant at first, but im glad i did.” riki replied, a small smile on his face.

jake was at a loss for words, his head starting to hurt a bit. his spider sense began to tingle, but he wasn’t sure why. jake had many false alarms before due to anxiety, but this felt different.

“is it safe…?” jake asked, his form becoming rigid. he suddenly noticed the black goo crawling up riki’s arms which explained the reason for his spider sense going off. jake backed up a bit when he noticed it extending towards him, feeling a sense of danger.

“it’s ok, jake. my dad personally tested the symbiote for years. he made sure it was safe enough. it seems to like me too, apparently the last guy who tested it became a little violent. my dad felt weary because of that, but there haven’t been any issues.” riki replied, turning the black goo into an arm and extending it into the air. jake jumped back in surprise, watching his friend curiously.

“so, you were that hero at coney island the other night?” jake asked, wanting to confirm his suspicions. riki nodded with a smile on his face, looking as proud as ever.

“yup, that was me. i’m sure our friendly neighborhood spider-man gets tired sometimes, i wanted to help my friend out.” riki shrugged. jake froze, his mouth drying up.

“oh…um…you know spider-man?” he asked dumbly, already knowing that he had been caught.

“dude, it’s okay. i found out before i left.” riki scoffed, patting his friend on the shoulder reassuringly. jake jumped in surprise once again before he noticed that the goo was gone. the alien was giving him a feeling that he did not like.

“was i too obvious?” he groaned, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“kind of…you’ve definitely gotten better over the years. but i also did a lot of investing. sorry bro, i just wanted to know where you ran off to all the time.” riki said, making jake smile. even though he often kept his secret for safety reasons, it was nice to have his best friends in on it.

“what do you think about us saving the city together?” riki asked timidly, playing with the rings on his hands as he awaited jake’s response.

the older boy pondered the question for a few seconds, not wanting to put riki in danger. but it seemed as if he could handle himself, especially with the symbiote attached to him.

the city was getting a bit harder to handle on his own anyways, it would be nice to have a friend tag along.

“alright…i’m down.”

previous | masterlist | next

taglist; @odxrilove @junityy @hittoki @jaklvbub @fariest @besuqueos @n1k1mura @k1ttylvr @francinethings23 @sakiimeo @serafilms @riksaes @dreamiestay @iluvkyo @wonunuwoo @jentlecoeur @greyminyoon1 @sincerelyrki @ilovejungwonandhaechan @vousty @frickyratz @supportstudies @roastandtoast @letwiiparkjay @jakeyverse @cafeyuns @keilovr @rosas-in-the-garden @wonxlvr @ilyjxdz @mitchii @ahnneyong @noobgod1269 @iheartjayke @l2vedive

— ky’s notes; SORRY for the long wait :/ i was feeling super unmotivated with this smau so i took a small break from working on it

[whencyclopedia]

Arapaho Creation Story

The Arapaho Creation Story is the account of how the world was made from the mud at the bottom of the endless waters by Father (also given as Pipe Person in some versions) with the help of the duck and the turtle. The story is similar to one of the versions of the Cheyenne Creation Story.

Eastern Painted Turtle

Greg Schechter (CC BY)

Both of these accounts are also similar to the Lakota Sioux Creation Story as well as those of other Native American nations, many of which begin with the world as a great expanse of water and feature a central character – usually supernatural – who brings the earth into being with the help of waterfowl or the turtle. The Arapaho tale is also similar to that of the Cheyenne and others in that there is no mention of the concept of 'evil' or corruption. The Father, inspired by the Grandfather above, creates a perfect world, completely in balance. Any aspects of life humans will later find objectionable are entirely so because of their interpretation, not because of any flaws in the creation itself.

In some versions of the story, the Grandfather is the Creator God Be He Teiht (the Great Spirit) and Father (or Pipe Person) is understood as the First Arapaho, meaning the spirit of the Arapaho people, not the first man. In other versions, Father seems to be the Creator God and Grandfather is not mentioned or the Father figure goes by the name of Flat Pipe or, as noted, Pipe Person. There are also variations in how humans, plants, and animals are made in different versions, but, in all, the world is created for the greater good and its inhabitants, all related as family, are expected to share it generously with each other.

Versions of the Story & Arapaho Religion

These different versions of the Arapaho Creation Story are all fragmented and some incomplete because they were passed down through oral transmission by the people's storytellers, and so many of these were killed by US troops and settlers in the latter part of the 19th century – in conflicts such as the Sand Creek Massacre – or died of diseases or malnutrition on reservations that the story was almost lost completely. The best-known and most complete version comes from Traditions of the Arapaho by George A. Dorsey and Alfred L. Kroeber in 1903, given below.

In this version of the tale, after the duck and turtle have brought up the primordial mud, Father creates the earth and then the sun and moon before creating humans out of clay. In another version, he accomplishes this through prayer-thought – purposeful thought generating change – and literally thinks the world into being. All things, therefore, come from the mind of the Father, and are all closely related. This is a core belief of Arapaho spirituality – the close connection of all living things that inhabit the World House together. In the World House, every living thing is a brother or sister and all children of the same Father. This belief informed Arapaho rituals, including the Sun Dance, as well as the "medicine" objects (spiritual artifacts) the people carried. Scholar Loretta Fowler comments:

the Arapaho origin story focuses on Pipe Person's creation of the earth from mud below the surface of an expanse of water. Pipe Person, through prayer-thought, created all life, including the first Arapahos. Arapahos henceforth kept a replica of the Flat Pipe as a symbol of their covenant with the life force or power on which Pipe Person drew. Rites centered on the pipe bundle helped ensure the success of Arapahos generally and of individuals specifically. Seven men's and seven women's medicine bags contained objects and implements that symbolized forms of power, and these passed from one custodian to another. Prayer-thoughts could affect events and lives, and the sincerity of a petitioner's prayer-thought was validated by sacrifices of property or of the body by flesh offerings and fasting. (1)

Although the Arapaho observed the Sun Dance, they did not engage in the self-torture aspect of that ritual as the Sioux and other Plains Indians did. The "flesh offerings" Fowler mentions would be sacrifices of an individual nature, though still performed for the greater good. The Sun Dance was known as the Offerings Lodge to the Arapaho and, instead of self-torture, they would donate personal items or space (land) to the community. The flat pipe was (and still is) central to the Offerings Lodge ceremony – as it is to other Arapaho rituals – as it symbolizes their connection to the Creator just as the Sioux ceremonial pipe does to that nation. When the Arapaho separated into Northern and Southern, and were then forcibly relocated to reservations, the Northern Arapaho kept the flat pipe with them, and the Southern Arapaho kept the sacred stones symbolizing the pipe. These are still used in rituals today.

Native American Sun Dance

Jules Tavernier and Paul Frenzeny (Public Domain)

In yet another version of the Arapaho Creation Story, this one incomplete, the flat pipe is featured prominently. In this tale, the Creator God is known as Flat Pipe and he walks about on the endless water with his pipe (a flat pipe) looking for some place where he can safely rest it. His entire purpose in creating the world is for a place to securely rest the pipe because, from this pipe, he will draw the power to begin the work of creation. He appeals to a flock of ducks flying past and they dive down into the water for him, bringing up some mud. This is not enough to create land from, however, and so he then asks various other creatures for help. One by one, they dive into the deep, six times, but none of them are able to reach the bottom. The seventh time, the turtle goes and brings back the right amount of mud for creation to begin.

Although the name of the main character and certain details differ in these versions, the central message remains the same: as all things were brought forth by the Creator, all are related to each other as family. One should therefore treat the earth, plants, animals, and others as kindly as one would one's own blood relatives because, in fact, that is what they all are.

Continue reading...

[lov3m3darling]

Apple of my Eye (Obsessed!Wally Darling x Short!Reader) Pt. 2

Heyyy 😊 So I'm really glad a lot of you seem to like what I'm doing here. You're all very kind ❤️

I woke up feeling pretty good today so I figured I'd be at least a little productive and write another part ✨️ How long should this be?? I'm totally down to make this a long fic if ya'll would like that. I would still write oneshots and headcannons in between chapters of course 🤗

Idk, lemme know

!!!(TW: obsessive behaviors, eye imagery, slight blood/injury, mention of a kn*fe)!!!

💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

Wally spent that evening thinking of nothing but you.

Your smile, your eyes, your laugh...

It was like his world finally had color again. He imagined the date vividly...bringing you flowers when he arrived at your door, showing you around town while you held his arm, picking a nice grassy spot in the shade for your picnic.

Would you dress up just for him? Would he hear your charming laugh when he made jokes? Could he...kiss you?

Wally covered his blushing face at the idea, and Home rolled their eyes, creaking mockingly.

Wally sat up from where he was laying across his chair.

"You don't understand, Home! (Y/n) is...they're so..."

He tried to describe you, but could only manage a happy, dreamy sigh. Suddenly, he heard a record player start up.

A love song.

"HOME!!" Wally exclaimed, his face now entirely red. Home knocked quietly, almost like a sly snicker. Wally sighed again.

"Oh, but...I could just imagine asking them to dance with me to a song like this. Wouldn't they look divine? ...Home, what on earth is wrong with me?"

The music stopped, and Home creaked.

"Lovesick? What are you talking about? I'm not sick, I feel fit as a fritter!"

Home's eyes rolled yet again, and the front door swung open with a squeak.

"You're right. Frank can explain it to me, I'm sure. He's very smart!"

With that, Wally set out towards Frank's house.

Meanwhile, you were in your own house, fussing over your clothing options. Clothes were strewn across your otherwise tidy bedroom as you dug through your closet and rejected nearly every article of clothing you owned.

But then, hanging at the very back, you spotted the miracle you were hoping for!

---------------------------------------------

(Option 1: a multicolored striped blazer and pants combo with a white dress shirt underneath and some red sneakers to keep it from being TOO dressy!)

(Option 2: a white, knee-length dress with multicolored polka-dots and a pair of red ballet flats. and for a cute little accessory, some red apple earrings!)

(...orrrrr any combo of the two! Up to you! Doesn't really matter, I just wanted to give some visuals here. Reminder: ya dress like a cartoon character because ya ARE one!)

---------------------------------------------

Oh, it was perfect! You'd been saving this outfit for a special occasion, and if a date wasn't the perfect situation, you didn't know what was!

You carefully hung it up for tomorrow, then made your way to the kitchen to pack the picnic basket.

As you sliced up an apple, you couldn't help but think about Wally. You'd only just met him that morning, and yet you already had a massive crush on the guy.

But who could blame you? There was just something so charming about him. And strangely suave, too. He seemed like the type of guy to bring you flowers and kiss your hand...a gentleman.

"Ow! Oh dear.."

Maybe cutting an apple wasn't the best time to be daydreaming...

"Tsk..."

You sighed, setting the knife down to go grab a bandage for the small cut on your finger.

But suddenly, there was a panicked knock on your door.

"Who in the world..?"

You settled for wrapping your finger in a tissue, and went to answer the door.

Wally stood, wide-eyed, on your stoop. He seemed worried.

"(Y-Y/n) I was walking by and heard you yelp!"

Your face felt a little hot. You didn't realize you'd been so loud...

"Oh, I'm sorry to worry you but I'm alright. I was slicing an apple for our picnic and...well...I suppose my mind was somewhere else. And silly me, I cut my finger a little..."

Wally's eyes shifted past you and looked at the knife on the counter, and his pupils grew and shrank again in a matter of just a second. You barely noticed.

"Thank goodness, I thought something terrible had happened. I don't know what I'd do if-...ah, would you like me to help you? I have bandages at Home.."

You were about to decline, when you realized something. You didn't have any of that stuff! You'd only just moved, after all.

So, you had to agree and let Wally lead you to his house.

Home's eyes fixed on you when they spotted you approaching with Wally. The door opened, but the squeak it made sounded like a question.

"(Y/n) is coming in for a moment so I can tend to the cut on their finger, if that's alright"

Home said nothing else, but the door remained open, so Wally nodded and brought you inside.

He had you sit on the couch while he retrieved a box of bandages and a cotton ball soaked in something that smelled like a hospital.

Carefully, he removed and threw away the tissue you'd wrapped around it, and looked it over. A tiny drop of blood trickled out and you winced, feeling like a little kid with a scraped knee again.

But Wally just smiled and brought your hand to his lips, gently licking away the drop as he gazed up at you lovingly. His pupils grew just a little, and you felt as if you would combust at any moment.

Wally chuckled and cleaned the cut with the cotton ball before wrapping a blue bandage around your finger and giving it a kiss.

"You've turned red, (y/n). Feeling alright~?"

"I-I don't...w-why did you...?"

He laughed.

"You're so silly, (y/n). It had to be wiped away, what was I supposed to do?"

You couldn't answer him. Your face was entirely too flushed and any nervous jumble of words your brain could think up just wouldn't come out no matter how hard you tried.

"Hey, I know! I'll sign your bandage. People do that with casts, I think! Barnaby says it helps the person feel better faster"

Suddenly, he was back to normal. Acting just as he did when you first met him.

Wally left the room for a moment and returned with a red crayon. He took your hand and gently wrote his name and a smiley face on the bandage before helping you up from the couch. He smiled at you.

"How's that? Does it feel better?"

"M-Much better. Thank you, Wally.."

You excused yourself so you could continue to get ready for tomorrow, and left, waving to Home as you went.

You shut the door to your own house and slid down it, finally being able to breathe and think.

What WAS that?! He licked your cut! Why?!

After a few deep breaths, you collected yourself and stood up, returning to the kitchen. You went to pick the knife back up, only to realize the blade had snapped off of the handle and was in several pieces...

"How did that happen..?" you wondered aloud. For some reason, looking at it gave you a nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach and you hastily threw it away.

As you did, you glanced at the bandage on your finger again. You weren't sure where the thought came from, but his name written on it almost felt like a claim over you more than a nice gesture.

And...why were you strangely okay with that...?

💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

Too much? 😅 That was a little intense, I know. But I promised yandere, and I keep my promises. Of course it's never gonna be a downright lemon 🍋 🚫 but who says it cant be just a liiiiiittle spicy? Just a dash of pepper, am I right?

Anyways, hope this was good 😊 more to come!

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

Fan Prize Story #1: Training in the Water

Credit: FlamMabel

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Thank you @flammabel for participating in the Act II opening weekend for The Way He Looks at You. I hope you enjoy your prize!

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Master List: One Shots

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Summary

You, a former Jedi, watch Cal practice his forms. He offers to jog your memory on how to do them. Rating: 18+ Words: 2.2K

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You could hear him before you could see him. The sounds of splashing as he moved through the water, practicing, always practicing. You had been traveling with Cal for a few weeks now and his commitment to rehearsing the forms of the old ways impressed you. You knew the forms, but you practiced them much less. It was honestly embarrassing to attempt them in his presence.

Cal had helped you escape a deadly situation with the Ninth Sister. Your ability to save yourself had waned since the Purge. Lying low for years will do that to a body. You weren’t out of shape, per se, but Cal had been training more in recent years than you. Still getting to know the man, it felt awkward to ask him to teach what you both learned as padawans. So you settled for watching him move through the familiar but forgotten movements. Then sneak away to practice in your room aboard the Mantis.

Your short copper hair danced along your temples as a light breeze rustled the trees of the lush and beautiful planet. The sound of splashing grew as you neared where Cal was practicing. Your heart rate increased as you rounded the corner, exposing the handsome man.

He was wearing trousers and an undershirt that pleasantly showed off his muscular arms. You couldn’t help but let your eyes rake across each flexing inch of skin as he moved. His red hair speckled with dark stains from the water droplets he has stirred up.

Cal looks up to meet your eye as you approach. He offers you a cheeky grin and a small wave before returning to his forms. You make your way to a large flat rock by the edge of the water. The smooth stone was now heated to a comfortable temperature in the sun.

You nod your head to Cal and lounge on the rock, thinking perhaps you could meditate here. But the thought of taking your mind elsewhere when the view in front of you is so beautiful seemed impossible. So instead you watched, as you have many times before.

Mostly you tried to stay focused on learning from his movements, but your brain had other ideas. It saw each movement as more than Jedi training; it saw opportunities for how he might behave in a more intimate setting.

His long fingers, trained to coax objects into his hands using the Force, could instead coax out multiple orgasms from your aching- No. You can’t think of him like that. You barely know him. The Order fell, but you can stay true to the old ways. Though there are few Jedi left to complain if you stray.

His powerful body could save the galaxy and make you see stars, couldn’t it? It might improve morale, give him a reward for his years of hard work. Your cheeks flush at the runaway thoughts, and you focus to steady your breathing. Then you hear Cal wading out of the water and approaching your spot in the sun.

“Did you hear me?” He asks.

“Oh! No, so sorry, I was lost in, uh, thought.” You say.

Cal gives you a curious smile. “I was asking if you’d like to do forms with me in the water.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Does it have to be in the water?”

You watch as clear streams travel down his clothes and into the earth. His skin is shiny and sleek. You wouldn’t mind getting a drink off of him.

“The water resistance requires focused and precise movements. It’s a great tool for training.”

“But my clothes will get wet.”

“Don’t worry, we can lie in the sun after while they dry. Maybe just take off any layers that might slow the drying process.”

He says and gestures to his shirt lying under a nearby tree. You look between him and the article of clothing, wondering if removing your shirt is a good idea.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me taking off a layer?” You ask.

“Of course! I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I promise, practicing forms in the water is worth the time to dry.” He smiles and offers you his hand.

You accept the outstretched limb and stand with his help. Moisture moves from his hand onto yours, sharing the cool water between your bodies. Reluctantly, you release his hand to grasp the bottom hem of your shirt. You lift the fabric and remove it from your skin.

Now only in a sports bra and trousers, noticing Cal’s eyes on you. He has the good grace to look away and pretend he hadn’t stared. But you saw the look in his green eyes. The hungry way his eyes raked over your exposed flesh. This new information makes you feel bold and you feel ready to test the waters.

“I’m wearing some shorts under my pants. I’d rather not have to wait for them to dry, so if it’s okay with you, I’ll take them off as well.” You glance up into Cal’s eyes as you ask the loaded question.

Cal swallows hard and nods, keeping his eyes trained on your face. He appears to be fighting an internal battle.

“That’s great! It’s fine, I mean. Whatever you need to feel comfortable.” He stumbles over his words.

You hook your thumbs under the waistband and pull the fabric down to your ankles, stepping out of them. Leaving the clothes on the warm rock. You glance at Cal, and he looks anywhere but at you, his pale skin now burning red.

“I’m ready.”

“Right, um, lead the way.” He says.

You give a small smile, but are internally beaming. There is no doubt in your mind that he is going to check you out as you walk ahead of him. You pass the nervous man, barely brushing your arm against his as you begin the walk towards the water’s edge. Knowingly, you sway your hips a bit more than normal as you walk, giving the other Jedi a small show.

As you step into the shallow water, you turn to look at Cal. All you see is panic in his eyes as he rushes into the water until waist deep. You take your time moving into the water, allowing your skin to disappear gracefully into the blue lake. Cal watches you move, but occasionally glances down into the water directly below him, then shifting.

“The form you were doing, I struggle with this part.” You say, trying to offer a distraction.

You move through the form before getting to the troublesome part where you aren’t sure how to position your left arm to carry the right arm forward uninterrupted. Cal takes the welcome distraction and focuses on helping you. He tries a few times to talk you through the process before it happens. He approaches you in the water, realizing that you need more help than just verbal instruction.

“Like this,” He says gently while stepping behind you and placing a hand on each arm.

Your skin lights up at the touch, allowing him to guide your movements through the tricky part. You become distracted by his touch and fumble, twisting around to apologize. As you turn to face Cal, your thigh brushes against something firm.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you brought your lightsaber in here. Do I need mine? I left it back with my clothes.” You say, embarrassed that you joined in practice so unprepared.

Cal turns deep red. “That’s not…I, uh, also left my lightsaber with my shirt.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you…are you…um…”

“You’re pretty.” He mumbles.

“You are too.”

He cocks his head and gives a half smile. “You think so?”

You bite your lip and glance down before looking into his crinkled eyes. “It’s honestly distracting.”

“My sentiments exactly.” He lets out a laugh.

His hands are still on your arms, frozen from a forgotten moment. You take a chance and rest your hands on his chest, facing him entirely. Cal repositions his hands, resting on your hips.

“Can I…” He trails off.

You nod, not needing to hear more. Cal wastes no time leaning down to brush his lips against yours. Electricity sparks in your body as he kisses you harder. His hands grip you tighter and pull you flush against his body. The angle proving that it was not a lightsaber you felt earlier.

You kiss him back with equal force, wanting him as much as he wants you. Cal wraps his arms all the way around you and steps back, falling deeper into the water, pulling you in with him. You let out a small squeal as you fall, landing softly on his chest as he partially floats.

“Cal, are you sure?”

He nods once then resumes kissing you deeply, his tongue moving in past your lips. You let out a small moan, encouraging him. He breaks the kiss, looking at you with hooded eyes, his pupils dilated and lustful. Cal moves in to kiss down the side of your neck. You tilt your head, and he fills the new void. His hands move up from your waist to figure out how to remove your bra.

You giggle as he struggles, and he sinks his teeth into the base of your neck in response. The sounds of laughter changing to something more primal and needy. He finally frees your body of the offending fabric and pulls away to watch your breasts spill into the water.

His eyes light up and he leans forward to take one into his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue at the sensitive bud. You throw your head back as he works, his other hand snaking up to play with the ignored nipple, pinching and twisting to your delight.

“Cal.” Escape your lips.

You feel him smile against your skin at hearing his name while he pleasures you. Trying to return the favor, your hands move down to his waistband and push them down over his hips, freeing his hard length. You wrap your fingers around him and immediately hear a strangled sound from the man suckling at your breast. Slowly pumping him beneath the water, you imagine what it must look like.

Thoughts interrupted by his expert fingers pushing under your elastic shorts and searching between your legs. He brushes your clit as he finds your weeping hole and you let out a groan. Cal draws back away from the wetness and tries to find the small bud that made you cry out. He wants to hear you make more noise.

He finds the spot, and you cry out his name again. Cal settles into position and rubs deliberate circles around the bundle of nerves. You let loose an array of noises and barely audible swears.

Cal keeps his eyes focused on your face, fascinated by the way his fingers are affecting your body. His other hand travels down to free you of your shorts. Once you kick them off, he uses the Force to pull them from the water and send them to the edge of the shore. His trousers following soon after.

You release his cock to pull his soaked shirt up over his body, causing his fingers to leave your body for a moment. His hair is messy and wet, his incredible physique is now on full display. He gives you a boyish smile and you feel weak at the knees.

Cal pulls you close again, and you wrap your legs around him. His tip pressing against your entrance, you look at him and nod and he pushes in a few inches. You both press your foreheads together as you experience this new and wonderful sensation.

“You feel so good. It’s really…good.” He says in a hazy lust.

Cal reaches between your bodies to pull more sounds from your mouth as he successfully finds your clit again. Your moans give him the permission he needs to thrust repeatedly into your body. You wrap your arms around his neck and meet his movements. It doesn’t take long until you are both panting and approaching your edge. Cal’s fingers become more frantic, trying to time your pleasure with his own.

“Cal, please, I’m close.” You say.

“Me too. You’re incredible. I should have offered to help you with your forms sooner.”

“You can help me with my forms daily if it ends like this.”

A coy smile crosses his lips as he pumps forcefully a few more times. You grip his shoulders hard as your orgasm arrives. Your core squeezing and gripping at the Jedi inside you. Cal swears under his breath as his thrusts slow and grow sloppy. You feel his own release as he fills you with his desire.

You both stay in the water, just enjoying being so close to one another. Finally, he slides out and carries you to shore, your legs still wrapped around him. Cal takes you to the large rock and sets you down before sitting next to you.

“I promised you we would dry in the sun.” He offers a shy smile. “Maybe we could keep working on things out here. I’d like to hear those noises again.”

Cal doesn’t stop his work until you are both as dry as you’ll likely be.

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Need to Rant with Others Who Have Read This Story?

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[kamenstranger]

A review(?) of Dandadan

Starting these reviews off is always the hardest part, but it often comes to me after some time filling out the rest of the article. Dandadan has been stubborn in that regard, so much so I've been trying to figure out where to start with this series since it first came out.

I began reading DDD before tankōbon's were being printed, hell before it even made it to NA digitally (There were translations in Europe which got them early iirc.) Then batches starting coming out, and I still have those original single chapters from Sept. 5 '21

I became captivated, but, like its namesake, describing why I enjoy DDD is daunting in how esoteric it all is.

The general plot is straightforward on its own: Momo Ayase, the granddaughter of a spirit medium, though circumstance meets with an occult obsessed otaku, Ken Takakura, and, yes, he's named after exactly who you think, which drives the Takakura obsessed Momo nuts. She calls him Okarun, which I will also be doing for the rest of this.

Okarun's big obsession is UFOs and aliens, which he believes in, but not ghosts. You see where this is going. Hi-jinks ensue, both go to hot spots for each others interest and what do you know, Momo gets abducted by Aliens and Okarun is possessed by a geriatric genital biting speed demon.

Feel free to re-read that last part a few times.

Suffice to say, Dandadan gets fucking nuts almost as soon as the first chapter, but we're not even close to how off the rails this series gets.

I'll save you the details of how they deal with the Turbo Granny, but I will say the mythos and rules surrounding the various spirits, urban legends, cryptids and aliens is handled with a shocking amount of intricate care. If you're like me, you grew up surrounded by a plethora of Unsolved Mysteries, caught UFO Files as it was airing, maybe you even had some of those Forbidden World books laying around from the 80s before getting into stuff like Yokai. Even though I don't really engage with that sorta thing outside Weird NJ nowadays (It stops being fun when people in public office are into conspiracies-- particularly of the nazi variety like lizard men and flat earth)

The narrative and aesthetic appeal of them has stuck with me.

Anyone that's read my Kamen Rider reviews would know how much of a sucker I am for that quintessential cryptid look, which Dandadan has plenty of along with just being absurdly unhinged and hilarious.

The first two volumes do a fantastic job setting up the limitations and powers of spirits in particular, eventually resulting in part of Turbo Granny's soul being trapped in a Meneki Neko and leaving her speed abilities with Okarun. Unfortunately, Okarun only got 1/3 of his bits back.

So now have two super powered protagonists touched by the supernatural and the unearthly on the search for…missing nuts. Or I guess testicles that look like magic golden orbs of power. That's seriously how we're kicking this off.

And yes, there is a basis for that in mythology called Kintama. If you're familiar with Gintama you probably knew that.

But beyond that basic set up… where the fuck do I even go from there? The series is far more than OTT action and good monster lore, but it's also hard to delve into the how and why of its overall qualities. Sure The supernatural and sci-fi bits are fantastic, and the comedy is wonderful, but it's a by product of the real core of Dandadan: the interpersonal relationships of the characters. Surprise.

Which yeah, if it wasn't clear from the get go, DDD has a romantic angle between Okarun and Momo.

Under the monsters, dick jokes, and the completely unhinged nature of everyone and everything is an oddly captivating and flat out adorable love story between our two leads, one that slowly unfolds but is challenged by the various shake ups from monsters, invaders and cast additions that occur to hinder that development; or in some cases push it further by bringing the two closer.

Okarun in particular very well might be one of my favorite interpretations of the Otaku with a heart of gold. He's a legitimately sweet person, cares for people, he trains his ass off to earn mastery over his powers to make things easier on Momo and to keep up with the ever increasing threats they face. In a sea of otaku power fantasy characters, it's nice to be reminded that characters with limitations and weaknesses to be overcome or dealt with are still showing up.

He's also just a total sweetheart to Momo.

And it's pretty clear even early on that the feeling is mutual. Momo is easily flustered whenever a cute girl gets a little too chummy with Okarun, or strings him along. She even retaliates in some cases.

Momo is also about as dorky as Okarun (As seen above) just in different ways, which makes the two complement one another while also contrasting in how much of a hot head Momo can be.

For a series that gets as bonkers as DDD, Momo's grade A shit talking "too stubborn to admit her feelings" gruff Gyaru personality helps ground the series with a rather realistic portrayal of a girl her age-- albeit one with psychic abilities and goes through some extreme struggles much later in the series.

In fact one of the more overlooked aspects whenever I read about Dandadan is how surprisingly dark the chapters start to get in the 80s onward. Because despite the major kick off involving Okarun having his balls stolen, the series is capable of being very sardonic.

For all the absurd fun like giant enemy crabs or the Flatwoods monster as a Sumowrestler, and even a daikaiju way later, you also have things like human sacrifices and tragic ghost stories which are treated with a heavy tone that is never undermined by that off-kilter comedy. You even see tones of that with Turbo Granny of all things, involving the trapped spirits of butchered girls.

Don't misunderstand, however, the series is first and foremost a romcom with horror elements, but sometimes the horror shines through in surprising ways. That nuance is also seen in the rest of the cast, which I've yet to talk about much because one of the biggest challenges of this whole thing is figuring out how.

Talking about Dandadan beyond the very bare basics of the opening chapters is difficult without spoiling something, it's part why I was hesitant to review it back when I first started reading, despite how enamored I was. For one thing, focusing on any one aspect would be a gross oversimplification, doing a disservice to how each angle of the series is handled. Conversely, delving into Dandadan as whole would mean recapping the story arcs and events because Dandadan has some of the most tightly woven threads I have seen in some time. I can barely graze the surface of why character dynamics work or are unique before inevitably getting into a full blown synopsis and spoiling character arcs and entire narrative structures, which is… frustrating, to say the least.

For example, I can't really give you a good look at Aira Shiratori without getting deep into how she's a schoolmate of Momo and Okarun, gets into a rivalry with Momo because Aira thinks she's a demon while viewing herself as "The special one"; a delusion made stronger when she gains her own demonic powers which is basically Sedusa. But over time she forms a bizarre friendship with the two over their trial and tribulations, while also dealing with the massive weight of guilt over cruel rumors she spread about Momo. But that really doesn't even begin to tell you how much of an absolute fucking perfect little bitch she is, and yet what an enjoyable dork she becomes. To do so would be to just tell you everything that happens in her story, which, while not complicated, is tied heavily into the narrative.

It's a similar scenario with Jin "JiJi" Enjoji, Momo's first crush, which you can imagine the upset that causes; one that's pretty goddamn funny because the dude, while handsome, athletically fit and arguably the strongest of the entire cast, has the personality of a goddamn muppet. So Okarun's getting all strung up on a guy even more goofy than him.

In a nice subversion, his relationship with Okarun develops into something surprisingly positive pretty quickly, if not without complications due to a fairly dark story with his character, which pushes Okarun even further in his training after Jin gets his own possession. And it also makes it all the more hilarious that the chipper muppet baby has a secondary Shadow the Hedgehog cracked to 11 persona that's a legit threat.

Then there's Kinta "Kinny" Sakata who is basically if Okarun was even more socially inept and a dipshit Gunpla addict who tried really hard to be a Jojo. His strengths is a vast knowledge of sci-fi tech and a chuuni like ability to imagine entire fantastical constructs; quite handy when mind reading alien nano machines enter the picture. It also helps break up the monotony of everyone else having or developing some sorta supernatural power.

And then we have Vamola, a character I literally cannot say a single thing about without giving away massive plot points. I can't even show a photo because her design itself contains spoilers. Just know that her story is when shit really hits the fan and will be a gut wrenching read while also having the most Battle Manga goodness.

What I can at least tell you is that for as much as Momo and Okarun are the main protagonists, Jin and Aira get damn good focus and are fully formed characters in their own right, they're not just a monkey-wrench thrown into the fray. I mean, they are also that, but they add to those elements while being more than a foil to our main heroes developing relationship, making the story much more varied and expansive than a supernatural will/won't they. Vamola especially in that area.

If there's one takeaway from this it's that Yukinobu Tatsu is capable of creating a great, varied cast full of humor and impeccable chemistry. (not to mention a lot of cheescake that shouldn't work as often as it does.) I'm constantly surprised with how masterful all the different pieces come together to create a compelling dynamic in this deranged Sci-Fi, Supernatural comedy mishmash. Hopefully I can convey a little bit of that Dada-esque appeal despite my spoiler aversion.

What's a lot easier for me to get across without spoilers, however, is the drop-dead gorgeous artwork. Good god is this series beautiful to look at.

Tatsu has a backround in, uh, backgrounds, and it shows on just about every page. Any one side panel has more detail than most double-page fight spreads in other books, and when they do a splash page it is breathtaking.

The fact this is a Weekly series is goddamn insane and… honestly kinda makes me a lowkey worried about their work ethic. But a lot of panels feature just the character on simple stark backgrounds (And some pages feel a little heavy on the reference material, if you get my meaning.) But even so, it's hardly a sacrifice for the impressive amount of work that goes into each chapter and how just about every other page has at least one impressive environment to gawk at.

Not only is the detail impeccable, but the layout, timing and expressions are goddamn phenomenal and a big part of making the series legitimately funny. That same talent translates seamlessly to high energy fights and impactful creepy moments.

This truly is one of the most compelling reasons to read the manga. At the time of this writing we're 5 episodes in the Science Saru anime and I want to make clear I'm enjoying it and do highly suggest watching it. I think their high octane stylistic approach is, in many ways, perfect for the series. There's clearly a lot of love put into translating page to screen best they can. Realistically, I know there's no way you could completely capture Tatsu's style 1:1, especially with what the industry is nowadays. The budget and man power it would take for that wouldn't be worth it.

But that sense of scope, scale, the depth, shading and a ton of small eccentricities is something unique to the manga and a big part of why it works. If you only know the anime then I think you're missing out. Plus you've got 8 volumes to read up on.

But also still watch the anime, I'd love a season 2. Hopefully with a bigger budget. Frankly, they're gonna need it.

That said, while I have praised and gassed up Dandadan, I should mention it has a number of trappings that by all means should not fly with me. As previously stated, there's a lot of cheesecake, and I like cheesecake, but it can bog down stories like this and they're a dime a dozen in the manga and anime world. At first glance DDD can look like that from the outside. There are so many instances of things that are annoying in other works, schlocky things (derogatory) that are sell themselves only on the limp-dicked exploitive elements like Fan service. Make no mistake, Dandadan is schlocky (complimentary) but it's also incredibly endearing not only outside those aspects, but in them. At least for the most part. I have to imagine it's aware of the more stupid indulgent elements but wisely plays them straight while at the same time employing a cleverness many other series fail to have.

For example, the characters are comically stripped very frequently, even (and usually) during otherwise semi-serious moments like battles (although not if the stakes are dire.)

But the cheescake is always balanced out by the other qualities. Hell, the cheesecake is often imbued a certain charm that is funny in itself or oddly sweet, which certainly becomes more true in the later chapters. Think more Cutie Honey and less Highschool of the Dead in terms of how it's handled.

A big hand in that is they're not afraid to get silly with all the characters, especially the girls, so it typically feels more tee-hee fun. They're almost if not equally goofy in their own ways and that does a lot in keeping it from being obnoxious. And ya know, they also have real developed personalities and relationships outside just having their clothes blasted off, which also happens to Okarun if that wasn't clear. Actually it's worse because he usually loses everything, and the same is also true for Jin.

It's so audacious in every aspect that I simply can't fault it. I mean, I also wouldn't fault anyone not gelling with it, but I just sorta expect it and roll with it for a series this absurd. I'm a critic, not a goddamn puritan. I know exactly what it is, and it's doing it far better than most. It is, at worst, background noise.

That's not to say the series handles all of its exploitative elements well. Rather infamously the first chapter has an almost not quite sexual assault for Momo. It's… not as bad as it sounds-- in part because it doesn't happen and also the situation is so absurd. Honestly I think there's been a bit much blown out of proportion with it. Still, the over the top nature of an Alien with a metal syringe dick getting his comeuppance by having it bitten off by a granny speed-demon can only mitigate the general grossness of the implication so much and I still wince at it. It's the only part of Dandadan that dips into a level a cheapness it otherwise sidesteps in most other endeavors. Thankfully, it happens early on, but it also isn't a great first impression, especially if you didn't have more chapters or episodes to view at the time, leaving you to wonder just what the hell kinda story this is.

It's worth noting some of the other early chapters have bumps here and there, but nothing quite on the level of chapter 1, and those parts are ironed out overtime to be a lot more palatable. Compare how chapter 3 handles T&A to chapter 26 and you'll know what I mean.

Aside from that, however, there is at least one semi major stigma I have against Dadadan's otherwise enjoyable self indulgent nature, which is that a lot of the monster designs are painfully derivative. And I mean DERIVATIVE. Just about every alien creature in this series is an Ultra Kaiju.

Oh Shin Godzilla in the case of Nessie.

And, look, I get homaging stuff you like. Dr. Slump has loads of references, Patlabor has references to Ultraseven, depending on which version of Urusei Yatsura you're looking at it's loaded with them, Project A-KO has them, Eva is a love letter to Jissouji Ultra (along with flat out copying a few fights from various 70s mecha anime) and even something like Bocchi The Rock is at least a quarter references. References are not the problem. Well, maybe a little, but I'm not gonna get Orson Wells on you here.

Regardless, its hard not to think that maybe they could've dialed it back a little bit.

The Z'gok in Gundam is based on Alien Zarabe but it's doesn't look like a knock-off version of it. But the Dover Demon in Dandadan looks like "original the character" Kanegon that turns into Baltan. Because it is.

Like come on, man. Even the Space Pirates in Metroid aren't this blatant.

Why this sticks out to much is because the art is so damn impressive but the design aspect is lacking in certain areas. I'm willing to give leeway for some designs if they're based on folklore elements like Ghosts, Yokai, and crypids. You want to make them recognizable, but can still work in cute references or original ideas without being as glaring as "we have Ultra Seijin at home." For what it's worth, I guess Dada knockoffs with Pegassa eyes are better than generic greys. But while it's cute at first, I felt it got irksome by the time I saw Shin Godzilla… and then Hipporit as a subterranean shows up. Then a tail-less xenomorph. And Alien Guts, and a Metal Gear, and Elecking, even an Alien Zarabe.

A lot of those do end up as cannon fodder so I can understand not wanting to put a lot of work into stuff that ends up being one offs. I can't deny the art looks incredible and hype as fuck. But man, it gets distracting sometimes, especially when Gomora shows up at one point with the body of Red King and later on they end up making that a major deity in an alien culture. It's not played as a joke at all. It is one of the most dead serious chapters… But it's still just an Ultra Kaiju. Sometimes I'm reading Dandadan and I'm having a great time and I'm getting all the referential designs, and I don't *hate* this, but in the back of my head all I can think of is that line in Akibaranger.

And on some level I do get how that borderline level of infringement adds to the absurdity, how the near mono focus of a singular love for Tsuburaya is charming. Hell, it's even refreshing in some ways considering how that hasn't really been a thing in Japan since the 80s. But it does still get a bit much from the sheer volume.

I think on some level Tatsu knows this because in the more recent chapters the Serpo Aliens are primarily depicted in their disguised forms and the fake Gomora gets a slight redesign in later appearances that's a lot more generic. I sort of get the impression things that were maybe meant to be one off gags ended up becoming reoccurring elements, but given the tone and humor of the series that's really hard to tell, for better or worse.

Although kudos to Science Saru saying fuck it and making the opening to the anime one big Ultraman reference. They know what they're doing.

All that said... I don't really know where to lead off from here. Dandadan is still ongoing, currently at about 170 chapters in Japan, while the anime is still currently airing the first season. So I can't really give a full review of either. Likewise, for all I know the series could go completely off the rails at some point-- in a bad way, I mean.

As it stands I'm still finding enjoyment out of this series and now seems good a time as any to suggest everyone check it out. There's multiple manga out, it's easily available digitally, there's the anime across multiple platforms in NA, we've got figuarts coming out. It's good to see.

I was long over due for look since first reading those Glitter screen-grabs some years back.

Funny enough, this late August I visited my Girlfriend in Illinois and got to see 8 volumes of Dandadan on the shelf in a comic shop, that was a nice surreal experience for something that wasn't even available digitally in NA when I first started reading it.

What I didn't realize at the time was when I took a photo of them on the shelf, it was September 5, three years to the day I got the first few chapters. So yeah, it was time for this to happen.

Given the on going status of DDD, I'll certainly be revisiting the series for a future look at and proper review. Until then, I encourage you to read the manga and see if you see what I see. It might not be some super deep narrative, but it is most certainly unique and well worth your time.

As always, thanks for reading.

[jpitha]

The Dreams of Hyacinth (redux) Preview

This is a preview of a future chapter of my redo of Dreams of Hyacinth. Long time readers will remember this as the serial I started right after Just a Little Futher ended. I liked a lot of it, but I didn't like the direction it took. It felt too much like a redo of the same basical story of JaLF. I'm going to start it over - posting it here and to Reddit - with a lot of the original intact, but changes keeping it to High Mars Hyacinth, more of a cyberpunky feel I was going for originally and less Nanite/Galaxy Domination Stuff. This is a preview somewhere in the middle. Nicholas North is separated from Eastern Standard his partner and is trying to escape... something :)

****

Nick made his way up the stairs, out of the transit station, trying to look inconspicuous. Just another commuter going to work right? Nothing strange about that. He tried to ignore his headache. It wasn't working.

Out in public, the scars on the back of his neck, hidden under his collar itched. All of his implants were colored to look like skin, and the blending was admirable, but he still felt exposed walking around. He seemed to have lost Houndstooth forces for now, but who knows how long before he'd be noticed again. For the fifth time he checked his camera hacks. It looked like the code Queenie copied for him worke; when he peered in on the camera lines, he didn't see himself. He couldn't be invisible, that would have been too obvious. Instead he had replaced himself with a composite based off of a bunch of media he had downloaded two nights ago. He looked generically male shaped, generically handsome and generically dressed.

The very illegal submachine gun strapped to his back under his coat, and the very very illegal crystal memory cube in his belt pack weighed heavily and reminded him that he was not very generic at all.

He went to a coffee cart and got a flat white. He wasn't really thirsty, but a coffee would give his hands something to do while he walked, so he didn't fidget. Cradling the hot coffee in both hands to warm them - Hyacinth was a controlled environment, but it was also old enough that they adjusted the temperature for Earth based seasons. It was 'winter' and while nobody would die of exposure on Hyacinth, it was still colder than Nick preferred. It never got this cold on Parvati.

As Nick walked around Congregation Square trying to look inconspicuous and hide from Houndstooth, he sat down on a bench - leaning forward a little so the gun didn't hit the back of the bench - across from a merchant. They sold beverages of all different kinds, human, k'laxi, Sef, and others. People were walking in and out carrying small paper bags. Maybe he'd gotten away with it. Maybe he'd actually lost them.

Far in the distance a siren started. It had a piercing, long wail. It was mechanical, or made to sound mechanical. As soon as it started, others joined in, making a massive minor chord wall of sound. It was loud, it was worrying. It was meant to be. Nick wasn't the only one who didn't know what it meant, but he was probably one of the only people in Congregation who could query a KB real-time and ask what it was.

Spin Alarm, was what came back. Details, he thought.

The KB began to rattle of a canned explanation. When Hyacinth was so old that it was built before gravity manipulation. To get around that small detail, originally the Orbital spun, so that centripetal force made ersatz gravity. It wasn't gravity, and didn't feel like it, but it was better than nothing. There was a link to a raft of very old welcome articles that explained how to deal with centripetal force and what to do about nausea and how most people got over it within the first week of arrival. As soon as humans learned how to manipulate gravity, Hyacinth was spun down and remained stationary.

That didn't mean the spin engines were removed however.

They could pivot and move in nearly every direction. On the rare occasions that Hyacinth needed to change position or orbit, they could be repurposed. Plus, it was expensive to remove them, and Houndstooth wouldn't spend that kind of money unless they had a good reason.

Just as they were designed to do nearly a thousand years ago, the spin engines on High Mars Hyacinth fired. Being a cylinder sixty miles by twenty meant that - at first - other than a low rumble and a jolt, there was no change. After a minute or two though, Nick looked up and saw the stars start to move. The ever present crescent of Mars below started to move out of the current glass panel and into the next.

Human balance is sensitive. K'laxi is more, but he wasn't around any at the time. As soon as the spin started, Nick felt weird. It was like that carnival ride he rode when he visited that fair on Parvati with his parents when he was small. His inner ear began to argue with his eyes about where 'up' was. He looked down at his coffee, and the liquid in the cup began to slosh oddly, and very slightly start to lean to one side. If it was happening this fast, then the spin engines were thrusting hard. As hard as a Starjumper maybe. Nick queried the KB again and it helpfully mentioned that they could thrust at up to ten gees on when set to Emergency Stop. Nick didn't think there was an Emergency Start, but who knows. The KB wasn't sure either.

In the time it took Nick to query the KB, things got worse. People started to stagger, and some fell to their knees. A K'laxi wearing an embassy uniform fell to their knees and vomited. After, they began a keening wail that Nick had never come out of a K'laxi's mouth before. They were clearly in distress. Nick stood to try and help them, but was overcome with waves of dizziness and his own nausea. He sat down hard on the ground and laid on his back. That made it better.

"Nick! Nick!" His comm chirruped. "Nick, I got it!" It was Eastern.

"Eastern? Where are you? I thought Jameson had you."

"He did. I talked my way out."

Even this uncomfortable, Nick felt incredulous. "Tell me later. Someone is spinning Hyacinth up, are you safe?"

"Safe? Sure I'm safe. I'm in the Basement."

The illegal moving bazaar in the underground maintenance tunnels? "How are you able to reach me on comm? The Basement usually has a comm block."

"Well for one, I'm using your implant line instead of your comm line." She said "And for two, I have root, so I was able to go around the block."

Root? How did she... No, another thing for later. "Well, can you tell who turned on the spin engines? Everyone down here in Congregation is doing poorly. Most everyone is laying on the ground, waiting for the world to stop moving." Nick also didn't mention that they were all starting to feel heavier too. The spin engines were designed to spin Hyacinth up to one gee equivalent, but the gravity generators had already had everything up to a gee. If the engines continued, everyone would feel two gees, and while that's survivable by k'laxi, it won't be without injury if they fall wrong. For the humans it will be mightily unpleasant.

"Millisec, I'll see." A pause. "Nick, it looks like the command was sent from the Houndstooth Command Center. They turned it on themselves!"

What? It was their station, of course they had access to "Why?" Nick said aloud.

"The orders don't say, but I'll give you two guesses."

As soon as Eastern had finished transmitting, Nick heard a rhythmic clanking. He turned his head, and fighting waves of nausea he saw three Houndstooth 'customer protection technicians' in powered armor clomp around the square. They had blackened visors, and their rifles were in their hands. As they walked they looked over everyone as a mini drone hovered behind. Nick could feel it scanning, but it hadn't reached him yet. They turned on the spin to make everyone stop moving, so they could find someone! Talk about overkill. The gun on Nick's back itched. If they scanned and caught it, he was dead - and that was one of the more positive outcomes. Nick had to be somewhere else, now. If he got to his feet though, he'd give himself away to the CPTs. "Eastern! I've got CPTs nearby. They have a drone and it's scanning people." he thought over the comm.

"Already? Fuck. Nick, they must have knew where you were and were just trying to hold you. Talk about overkill though."

"Later, Eastern! What do I do?"

"You have your sub right? You could shoot your way out." She could feel Nick's expression over the comm and quickly said "kidding, kidding. Hold please." While Nick waited, he dared not look at the CPTs clomping around, but he could hear the whine of their servos and the thump of their boots as they moved and stopped, and moved and stopped. It seemed like they were checking everyone. If they knew he was here, why didn't they just come towards him?

Because his hack had worked, he realized. He'll have to thank Queenie later - if he survives. He heard more of that odd keening wail from k'laxi further away from him, and that caught the attention of the CPTs. They walked over to check them out. Nick couldn't believe they were checking out of concern, but that did mean he was right to not make his image on the cameras to be k'laxi.

There was a commotion from the k'laxi, and a odd shout, and then the CPTs yelled and started chattering among themselves. Before Nick could figure out what was going on, there was a deep thump, and he felt a shockwave. Had one of the k'laxi thrown a grenade? Nick knew that their civil war was ongoing, and that there were reports on the news of it being very brutal, but he had no idea that the war had come to Hyacinth. By the alarmed sounds of the CPTs, they hadn't realized it either. One of them had triggered their assistance siren, and the other's suit was yelling 'medic! medic! medic!' over and over again.

"psst!" Nick turned his head, pushed down the wave of dizziness that accompanied it, and saw a gardening robot peer out from underneath a large potted tree. "Get over here!" It was speaking in Eastern's voice.

Without checking to see if the CPTs were busy, Nick half rolled, half undulated towards the opening under the tree. Without grace, he felt down the hatch and landed on his back a couple meters down, knocking the breath out of him. Now, he was dizzy from the centripetal force and the fall. Coughing, he tried to sit up and push past the dizziness. Next to him was a gardening cart, and the little bot was waving a small spade from the front. "Taxi's here Nick! Get your rear in gear!"

He pushed himself to his hands and knees and flopped onto the cart. With an electric whine and a strong smell of ozone, it started to move away - slower because of the high gravity.

Nick kept his eyes shut. It was easier that way. "Eastern, one, thank you for the rescue. Two, where are we going?"

"You're welcome Nicholas North, and I'm taking you to the Basement. I've got some friends down here and they can help."

"Were these the same "friends" that let you get into Houndstooth CIC? How did you know what they were doing?" Nick's voice warbled as the car raced over bumps and gaps in the paneling.

"I told you Nick, I had root. Don't worry about it. You'll be here soon and we can work out next steps. You have the memory crystal?" Eastern sounded distracted.

She was deflecting. "Yes, I have it." Nick didn't say anything else, but a knot grew in his stomach. Eastern was doing things she shouldn't be able to do, and none of her answers about why she could do that were satisfying.

[slippinmickeys]

POL Prompt for you: would love to know more about Mulder’s experiences embedded with the army, and I bet Scully would too…

No beta. Just vibes. Thanks for the ask!

He presses his lips to the tight drum of her stomach, breathes in through his nose. The air is thick with the sour smell of human bodies in a warm, enclosed space, under which hovers the smell of sex and somehow, the linen and eucalyptus scent of Scully herself.  

He’d like to make love to her again, but they’re both lightheaded with hunger, so he rolls over instead, leaning his forehead and nose against the arching slats of her ribs. He reaches down and puts his hand around her knee. Her body hair has grown out, and while the copper hair on her legs is wiry and stiff, the growth on her knee is wispy and blonde. He strokes it, like he’s calming a skittish filly.

Outside the hotel they can hear bullets ripping through air nearby. The fighting is close and the sounds unnerving. 

“Tell me about your embed,” Scully says in a rough voice. He flicks his eyes to hers; they’re round and wet, blue as the Sargasso. 

“Which one?” 

“Any of them,” she says with a shaky breath. “Can you talk to me? I want to listen to you and not the sounds outside.”

“I hate to tell you this, but my embeds involved scenes pretty similar to what’s happening outside.” 

“Talk to me, Mulder,” she says. “I just want to hear your voice. Please.”

He runs his nose up the soft skin of her side, pulls her in close to his body.

“We were in the mountains,” he mumbles into her. “And it was cold.” 

Under his lips, her skin pebbles in sympathy. 

***

He’d had to leap out of a Black Hawk hovering above a rugged mountainside, hugging his camera bag to his chest in an effort to protect his camera and equipment. It had seemed to work, to the detriment of his left shoulder. The ground under the chopper was a chaotic mess of disheveled humans and gear, the rotor wash whipping dust and debris into everyone’s eyes. 

Mulder was the photographer half of a two-man team, working an article for the Times, but in the chaos and roar of their ingress, he couldn’t see Gary, the journalist who’d be doing the writing. He only hoped he’d fallen successfully, a metric applied in the loosest sense of the word – Gary was over forty and overweight – so long as he didn’t need a medic immediately and was on the ground, Captain Franklin would be happy.

The moment the last trooper hit the earth, the Black Hawk tipped backward and roared away into the night. The soldiers around him were up and on their feet immediately, Franklin barking quiet orders to hustle the men along – the chopper had given away their location. 

Operation Saber Tooth was a battalion-wide mission to root out senior rebel fighters that were hiding in and around the mountains. Franklin would hang back from the fighting with what was called the overwatch team, but First and Second Platoons would be on the front line, entering villages and searching homes, going on the offensive if attacked. 

Franklin had given Mulder and Gary the option of staying back with him and the overwatch team– who would position themselves behind the platoons’ fighting in order to monitor and command the operation–or accompanying one of the two Platoons. Mulder thought they’d get a better story and certainly better pictures if they went with the fighting forces, but it would also mean walking through the mountains at night carrying all of their gear; food, water, clothing, work equipment and sleeping bags. Each patrol would be gone for a week, patrolling, camping and trekking in the mountains. Mulder wanted to go with First Platoon, but one look at Gary’s face and he told Franklin they’d hang back with overwatch. 

Mulder had no idea what they were supposed to do next, so he followed the line of troops up a ridge and onto a small flat crest of rock thousands of feet up that abutted the mountain on one side and had a clear view of the valley on the other. The area would serve as the Tactical Operation Center for the mission. There were no tents, walls or roofs – just bare patches of rock and a few gnarled trees. As Mulder watched, the overwatch team unpacked cumbersome machines that looked like they had been airlifted from Vietnam. 

Gary came shuffling over the ridge and to Mulder’s side, breathing hard. 

“We should get some sleep,” Mulder said, unrolling his sleeping bag while Franklin and the JTACs communicated with airpower. 

A small group of rebel fighters had been spotted by the retreating Black Hawks moving towards their position, and Mulder and Gary fumbled with their equipment and tried to stay out of the way while an air attack wiped out the small force. 

When Mulder woke in the morning, First and Second Platoons were gone, but the overwatch team were still working, hunched over a speaker that was spitting out insurgent chatter from a radio intercept. 

“Bring the Dushka,” the interpreter said, repeating what he was hearing in a language no one else understood. “We can see them on the mountainside.”

The overwatch team was tense. The nearby rebels knew where they were, but not the location of either First or Second Platoon. A Dushka, Franklin explained, was a giant Russian machine gun that spit out .50 caliber bullets that could effortlessly slice through a brick wall. If the two platoons didn’t find the rebels before the rebels got the gun into position, Mulder and the men around him would be rendered to pulp and Operation Saber Tooth would be over before it began.

“Didn’t Franklin say overwatch would be the safer option?” Gary said, hunched up in his sleeping bag and looking miserable.

Mulder reached into the brown plastic of the MRE one of the soldiers had handed him and pulled out a small pack of M&Ms. 

“I think he just said there’d be less walking,” Mulder replied, popping a handful of candy into his mouth and pulling the black knit cap he was wearing lower over his ears. 

Gary began taking notes and speaking with some of the overwatch soldiers, getting down interviews, but Mulder could do nothing but take a few photos of the team against the backdrop of rock and dirt; mostly guys blowing hot air into their fists and hunching around the radio speaker.  

As dawn gave way to full daylight, Mulder’s attention strayed from the chatter of the TOC detailing the progress of the First and Second Platoons to the increasingly pressing needs of his own body; he really had to pee. 

Most of the soldiers had been relieving themselves at a rocky outcropping at the edge of the ridge upon which their small camp sat, but a gusty wind had picked up from along the valley and was now blowing up the crest of the hillside. If he peed off the side as the other soldiers had done, he would probably end up covered in his own piss courtesy of the wind. 

He decided to amble a little further off, down a short slope upon which laid the remains of a fallen tree. The area was probably too far from what Franklin had said were the boundaries of where he felt comfortable letting them go, but it was sheltered from the wind and it would only take Mulder 30 seconds to relieve himself. 

He was just zipping up when he caught a flash of movement from 40 yards away across the small valley between the mountain they were perched on and the next. When he looked up he connected eyes with a man peeking out behind a boulder, Kalashnikovs bristling up around the rock like needles in a pincushion. A group of rebel fighters. And they had seen him. 

He dove behind the single fallen tree on the slippery bit of scree behind him as the rebels opened fire. Bullets whizzed past the tree and thunked into it, spraying the air around him with bits of desiccated wood, and he could hear the shouting from the TOC and the garbled sound of the rebels yelling at each other and into their own radios. It took only moments for the Americans to begin returning fire and Mulder was absolutely pinned down, unable to do so much as move his arms up to protect his face, so close were the bullets in the air above him. And he had left his flak jacket and helmet next to his sleeping bag. 

He laid prone, eyes squeezed close as the guttural sound of combat erupted from everywhere  around him. An AC-130 circled overhead and he could hear the roar of a fighter jet scream low over the mountain. But the air support would not be able to help them, he knew; the rebels were too close to their own position and an attack on them would likely be deadly to Mulder and the rest of the overwatch team. 

Suddenly, the sounds of gunfire from the TOC position went into overdrive, and a moment later two soldiers slid onto the ground on either side of him, their comrades above laying down cover fire. 

“Let’s go, bud!” said a soldier named Martinez, who plunked a too-large army helmet onto Mulder’s head and grabbed him by the arm. 

On his other side, a private named Smyth said “We’re running in three-two-GO GO GO!” And the two soldiers hauled him up and all three of them ran all out, scrambling back up and over the ridge to the meager protection of the TOC. 

***

“Not three minutes later,” Mulder mumbles, “the rock above our heads started exploding.” 

Her fingers brush through the hair growing long down his neck. “The Dushka?” she asks.

He nods. “The Dushka. Luckily Second Platoon was almost on top of them by the time they were in position to fire and took them out before any person or any equipment was hurt. Five minutes later it was dead silence and we spent the rest of the afternoon using baby wipes to get the dust off our skin and equipment. My Canon Mark IV was never the same.”

On the street outside the hotel, the gunfire similarly halts. 

Scully inhales expansively and turns so she’s facing him. “How was Gary?” she asks. 

“A true professional,” he says, leaning forward to kiss the skin above her breast. “He grabbed my camera and took some damn fine pictures.”

“I’d like to see them someday.” Her voice is fading, sleepy. “If we ever get out of here.”

Mulder pulls the tatty sheet up and over them both. 

“You will,” he says. He’s gotten out of worse. 

[rathiman]

"Neil Gaiman publicly funded the defense of a guy who was charged with possessing child porn"

I really really do not want to be saying anything positive about this man, it is crystal clear that at the very least he massively exploited the power he had over two women half his age and guess what, that itself is enough to understand that he was very predatory with these women. That being said, I fully believe the victims who came forward and hope that there is some accountability and justice dispensed.

But, what is an extremely irrelevant tangent that several of these discussions are taking are talking about him funding the defense of a man who was being prosecuted fo possessing lolicon manga.

Firstly, yes he did do that and I'll link the article that Neil Gaiman wrote about this here. Tbh, I agree with some points he makes here, though his writing is very meandering and not very concise.

Possessing lolicon is possessing some material where a character is/looks like they are underage/preteen and they are written to be in/drawn to be in sexually explicit situations. In other words, it's a fictional depiction of fictional minor characters in an explicit manner. Now, child porn as defined in several jurisdictions entails a real child/minor being exploited sexually for pornography or a real human child/minor being written about/portrayed in a sexual manner. Essentially, lolicon is a fictional and explicit depiction of children/people who are perceived as children, who DO NOT exist while child porn, arguably, involves real children being abused.

For the morality based disagreements surrounding lolicon itself, firstly, yes, creeps might get off to lolicon and that is disgusting. Yes, sometimes lolicon might help foster the sickening motives some people have against children and that is also disgusting. But, do you really believe banning something like lolicon on a principle level is going to actually reduce the chances of a child being abused? Lolicon is not going to magically vanish from the face of the earth, it's still going to be circulated through illegal means, just like actual child porn is. But you know what banning lolicon will actually do?

Threaten actual exploration of uncomfortable themes like child abuse, exploitation and rape and meaningful themes like sex and sexuality in adolescents. Which depiction of a child/minor is obscene or not obscene, morally wrong or correct, will not be decided by you or me but by some old powerful men, probably conservative.

Another important consideration is that lolicon does not always have characters that are explicitly underage. It can also just contain characters with "childlike bodies" and it could be called lolicon. And who will decide what a normal body should look like as opposed to a child's body anyway? What about people with small body frames and flat chests? Because their bodies do not align with a conventional adult body, these bodies will be banned from being portrayed explicitly because someone on the internet has decided a body like that can only belong to a child? Do you see why what should be drawn/written and how it should be perceived cannot and should not be regulated with laws?

So yes, he did fund the defense of a guy who was being prosecuted for possessing lolicon manga. If you think that made him a sexual predator, please ask yourself If you should be drawing a common standard for writing about fictional underage characters and sexually abusing real women.

Focus on listening to the victims, withdrawing any support you have been extending to him and please please believe the victims. Speaking out against a powerful man is not easy and these women are very brave for coming out with their experiences.

[juliasgoodusername]

Ley Lines Map for All the Gansey-core Girlies

Have you ever wished there was an interactive map that not only graphs the ley lines described in TRC, but also has layers full of possible spiritual points, arranged in loose categories and sloppily curated by sheer force of mental illness?? Okay baby here you go:

FAQ under the cut 😘

Was this necessary?

Genuinely it was not. My investigations uncovered that Maggie Stiefvater does not really care about geography, nor does she remain consistent about the ley lines, so I can't even really say that it's book-accurate.

Example 1 - There are multiple understandings of ley lines. Some are circles, patterns, connect the dots, etc. but TRC goes with the definition of "perfectly straight" lines "that crisscross the globe" (The Raven Boys Chapter 2, Chapter 15). One of the big three lines connects Boston to St. Louis (The Raven Boys Chapter 22). And the main line also passes through Boston (see example #2)! But half of all the Pynch drama in Call Down the Hawk specifically blames Boston/Harvard for not being on the ley line. Hello?? It's on TWO of them!

Example 2 - Maggie makes it clear that the connection between D.C. and New York, which also connects to the UK and Pilot Mountain, is the main line that Glendower's squad traveled on (The Raven Boys Chapter 7, Chapter 22). The weird part is how after defining this line, all of Adam's ley line adventures place it directly along the Shenandoah National Park/Blue Ridge Mountains (Blue Lily, Lily Blue Chapter 2 + many other quotes I don't feel like looking up). There's no way to connect the DC-Pilot Mt line to Shenandoah, but I can totally see how Maggie Stiefvater would think it connects when looking at a flat map.

So yeah. It doesn't really matter, but thanks to my research we can CONFIRM that it doesn't really matter. You're welcome.

So why did you make this?

For fun...it wasn't exactly worth it. But by sharing it with y'all, hopefully no one else will make the same mistake.

What about line #3?

The third line never has specific connection points in the books so I basically made it up :) but I narrowed it down to 2 candidates, with my chosen line based on Ronan's mention of the "Pando thing" in Greywaren's epilogue.

How did you decide on/find points?

Honestly it was a lot of vibes. You can read in the description of the map how I started from certain resources, like all the stuff in the books, and other people's Google maps. My big discovery was realizing that UNESCO World Heritage Sites covered a lot of territory between history and nature, but before that I was literally googling things like "strange places Kentucky" and pouring through articles. If a place seemed weird and magical, I added it.

Yes this took forever. Easily 3x as long as the 300 Fox Way floorplan, if not longer.

Is this map complete?

I had other ideas for things I should add to it but I got tired, so nah.

You've put down everything from urban legends to alien sightings, but why don't I see many hauntings on the map?

Blatant author bias; I firmly don't believe in famously haunted houses! The vast majority of "haunted" places operate as tourist attractions, so if I took them at their word I'd have to also log Disney World for being the most magical place on earth, wouldn't I? Also Re: I got tired.

Can I copy this map / add to it / use it for reference?

Please please please please

I found a typo

I bet you did! I'm not even proof reading this post bestie.