#Basically like 10+ years ago I said I wanted to design a line of male characters based on the eastern zodiac and now i'm actually doing it

[aplusod]

redesigned even more old ocs (and designed some for the first time, when they've just been a vague concept for the last 10+ years).

aplusod's character/world directory blog

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Maou-jou 9 - 12 (FINAL) | Idolish7 s2 10 - 15 (FINAL) | SLS 2

I’ve been holding off new seasonals because of other things, but after I post this I’ll have enough time to get around to them. That’s why I can’t guarantee winter 2021 seasonal tags on this post...maybe the next one will have them...

Maou-jou 9

…it seems shopping channels even are the same in the demon world.

Now even the demons have quests! (The frame is different to the princess’s, though.)

Oh! The quest failed.

Neo Alraune: in flower language, “the 2nd coming of happiness”. The worry from a little while ago was, “I’m worried about my brother.” The worry from recently: “I didn’t think about being happy that the princess didn’t kill my brother.”

The penguin demons are pretty cute!

Don’t you know how parents forbid children from sleeping until they finish all their homework? Must be something like that.

Yoku ganbarimashita! – Syalis worked hard!

LOL, mental age: 3. Poseidon likes cute things…I can’t read a lot of this…the hardsubs cover the JPN text.

They…both succeeded! (…LOL?)

Maou-jou 10

Owarinocity = Endopolis. It’s a good equivalent, if I do say so myself.

…oh yeah. What happened to Alraune? Update: There she is!

Also, that blonde guy in the infomercials doesn’t look too bad…*makes chef’s kiss gesture with one hand* Nice.

I wonder, was Twilight once human…?

LOL, there’s a goat symbol on the cleric’s pyjamas. Also “first time”, LOL.

I think they were playing shiritori at one point.

Hanamaru saikou yoku dekimashita!

Maou-jou 11

…How does one “sleep cheerfully”, anyway?

I think I saw Twilight drop something…some kind of paper…

Aw, Twilight blushing is kinda cute!

LOL, 70s shoujo style. Also, “It cannot be!”

Whoa, she cancelled it?!

I read up on this series on TV Tropes…and apparently the Demon King captured the Princess in her sleep.

Kagemusha? Like a ninja or something?

Apparently the Demon Cleric is much older than he looks.

Ooh! Hypnos is back!

A-whatsit really is abysmal levels of stupid!!! (LOL)

Maou-jou 12 (FINAL)

Who’s that one tiny guy occupying one of the Ten Kings’ seats?

*watching after Christmas, about a week after the anime finished* This is not seasonally appropriate!

…*thinks for a second, then spits* That’s the 2nd Nemu in the fall 2020 season!!!

Ooh, the head paladin doesn’t look that bad, either.

“…is it good to be…”

“…has seized the princess!”

“…that demon king is rather cute.” – See? Someone agrees with me.

Anyways, that was a fun series. See you soon!

Idolish7 s2 10

…Back at it after so long…(I can’t help it though – Crunchyroll, per month, is about double the local Funimation sublicensor’s fees, and for much less content that’s worth my money to boot!)

I’ve always thought Momo was like Sasara (HypMic), so seeing him anguished hurts me in the kokoro too…

I know Banri was involved with Re:vale somehow…this must be it.

…Male idols are also popular among men? Is this why there are 8 (!!!) idol anime in winter 2021 alone…? (Also, that’s why HypMic became popular? Multidemographic appeal crossed over with obvious merchandising opportunities?)

It’s kind of scary how Momo stepped the formality towards Yuki like that (to -san).

I guess in his heart Momo still reveres Yuki, some way or another.

The rakugo curtain really sold the moment that they (current Re:vale) were acting like an old married couple.

Yay! Silver Sky is such a cool song! Of course I recognised the intro when it came on.

…I see. The elder Kujo is entrusting his dream to Tenn, so that’s why he banned Aya from seeing Tamaki. However, it’s hard to know what to feel when Aya speaks in the vaguest terms possible.

I think that was a special ending for only this episode. I don’t know what its name is, but I guess I might recognise it on Spotify one day.

Idolish7 s2 11

LOL, Nagi’s reaction.

Considering the ‘rona is getting worse outside our very windows as we speak (type?), I think it’s correct to be concerned about your future right now.

Looking at these narrow streets reminds me of going to eat hotpot at the end of my Japan trip…only Japanese streets look like that, I think. Hong Kong’s streets are more crowded than that and America likes their suburbia.

Of course, when you say hajimemashite (nice to meet you), someone’s gotta say it back, hence the reply.

Considering there are people all over the world watching the Idolish7 anime, I would say you are telling the world about I7, Riku.

Oh! Restart Pointer! There was an MV for that one…I think it was around the time Idolish7’s MVs started getting better.

So this is the context around the new outfits! Cool!

There have been way too many puns about “idol” being…y’know, “ai (love) doll” and stuff like that…

I have one Twitter person who I follow (DejiNyucu, part of the creative team for Autumn’s Journey) because I don’t get much I7 content and they keep mentioning this “Haruki” person…and suddenly a “Haruki the Betrayer” showed up in the graffiti…they might be the same person, I think. Not Deji, but Haruki. Update: Sakura Haruki, perhaps…?

Sougo’s such a bad liar…

Sometimes, the best way to deal with things is to be direct…(I’m not very good at that, I naturally talk in a very roundabout sort of way.)

Sougo with long hair like Yuki would be really pretty… (<- has an obvious thing for guys with long hair)

Idolish7 s2 12

Nagi’s stupid accent is generally what he’s best remembered for (for me), so seeing him speak normally, and do a press conference on top of that, is…impressive.

A kabedon on top of all this! Whoa!

Shibuya 109 parody…? (I’ve seen that once or twice – parodying that means people know their stuff about Shibuya.)

I think the “it’s overflowing!” is referring to the hype in the “room”.

…this dejected Momo is worrying…(well, he is worrying and I am worrying about him.)

Oh, I see. The person responsible typed the letter so that they couldn’t be traced back. Kind of like those old movies where the culprit would cut letters out of newspapers to make threat mail, but…with even less traces than that, because cutting letters out leaves evidence.

…wow, it took a while for this ep. to have an intro…

…LOL, I just spotted Kenjiro Tsuda cited as the “fake Zero”, meaning the real one might never show up this season.

There’s something really stupid and infectious about these managers’ enthusiasm for drinking energy drinks. It puts a goofy smile on my face.

Is Musubi Tsumugi’s mother…? Update: Yes, she is.

…Wait, so the Chiba Shizuo guy is actually important?!

Idolish7 s2 13

Whenever someone says “by the way”, it means they’re changing the subject. I hate to state to obvious, but Sougo is clearly deflecting the topic of conversation from being about him.

I wonder if this guy (Haw9) is the actual Zero graffiti vandal…?

Hmph, I didn’t realise Tenn doesn’t refer to Kujo-san as his father, but…like that (“Kujo-san”) instead.

Oh hey! These are shots from Vibrato!

Most dramas can be solved with the power of Good Communication. That includes this one.

I feel like “he has a dark side” describes both Tenn and Kujo-san.

“Everyone, remember to wash your hands and gargle thoroughly.” – This is always a good thing to remember in the time of ‘rona. Reminds me of Jakurai’s line in ARB (<- this game started just after the ‘rona came down).

What did Sougo go to uni for (what specialisation)?

Idolish7 s2 14

I just realised Banri calls Momo -kun. Hmm…

Denki = electricity, LOL.

I feel like Tenn is basically Ramuda, give or take actual pink hair…guys in musical groups with pre-existing angst that they become the “centre” of. The fact Fling Posse have Saito Soma and so do Trigger strengthens the connection.

I would watch the heck out of a musical like that! Make it come true, Idolish7! (Also, today is I7 day! I’m not much of an I7 fan outside the anime, but…that’s cool!)

That shot of them jumping! I remember seeing it on the official site before!

Idolish7 s2 15 (FINAL)

There you go! I was wondering where Banri’s injury was – that was the only bit that didn’t add up for him to be Yuki’s old partner.

Hmm…Momo is 4 years younger than Yuki but 2 years younger than Banri…

This episode has a real concert vibe to it, to the point where I got startled by how loud the yell was at one point. (Even if it is mostly stills.)

LOL, lookit Okazaki!

Apparently, if you’re a hako oshi, you like all the members of a group. Someone with a green light and a pink light likes both members of Re:vale.

LOL, Usagi for Asahi beer.

…I forgot Nagi is 19.

…Ooh, I think that’s the kid from ZOOL. No wonder they needed a season 3!

That’s all. See you next time!

SLS 2

��fine and upstanding person” – That’s…hard to believe, Hayato.

I wonder how many bois Toboso designed for SLS…?

…The episode title is actually “Blank”. Not “Break”.

One of the guys’ shirts says moteki on it. That’s a period in one’s life where one enjoys more romantic attention than usual, literally “popularity season”.

The subs missed an I, so initially I knew Kiriyama’s name as “Kiryama”.

There are meant to be 2 wings, right…?

“He who controls information controls everything, right?” – For once, I’m surprised Hayato is right (and not just in that smug way of his).

“…I’m being treated like a manager.” – But Hayato is a manager! (In a sense.)

The plait guy jumps to nicknames really fast…also, why do I get the feeling Maeshima will lose the key?

I hate to say this Maeshima, but I side with your childhood friend (Kiriyama) here. As much as the anime wants me to back you, I’m watching for everyone else at this point.

That blocky building looks pretty cool. I think Zel (Archi-Anime) would like it.

Sasugai’s setup looks pretty cool, including his chair.

…hmm, Maeshima’s like me in a sense. I learn best by copying others, but memory is my best asset. If I don’t regularly train the fundamentals, I suck at everything. That said, I don’t have an eidetic memory. Also, I didn’t quite figure out Ken = Ken(sei Maeshima) until I watched long enough to connect the dots.

LOL, Derry’s. (<- reminded of a word for “butt” <- derriere)

Well, the guy’s (Souta…?) shirt does say moteki…

Kiriyama kinda looks like Jyuto (HypMic), come to think of it…Right down to his angry streak (although Jyuto has a reputation to keep as a “cool dude”, while Kiriyama is more of a Manza (Boueibu HK) and he’s more angry than he looks).

…This ED is nothing special.

…Hmm? Is that a small Terauchi and Maeshima…?

I think I’m sold for now, but I’m rooting for the other team, not Maeshima’s…not yet, anyways.

[sugar-petals]

; sublime (m) ║ reader ✕ merman!jjk

↳ summary: only you can save him.

8k words | smut, action, fantasy

⚠️ angst, themes of persecution & violence, unprotected sex, graphic.

a/n | Needed to reupload, it’s been in an ask format. Second chapter included. request: “Would u be willing to do a merman jk x reader smut?” (rosewell-love​)

There’s a dead body on your private beach.

Or so you think. You’ve spotted it going out for your early morning walk with a bottle of water and light trainers. Busan’s late summer has been merciful with the weather so far, so you wanted to tick your two-mile goal on the schedule again. 

From afar you already knew that whatever laid there in the silt was nothing of the regular. The colors that struck you against the mellow rising sun seemed blueish, strangely vivid. If it was a water corpse, sure it could be decaying like this. You dare to tread closer, crossing into muddier seafloor now. 

Normally, you preferred to stay where the sand was dry and solid to walk on. There is no foul smell as you approach, or scraps of cloth, anything like that. Just algae all around. A few feet away, you begin to understand: This is not a human body. 

You’ve heard about sightings of stranded mermen in the news. Authorities were quick to dismiss rumors of violent interventions. They assured that the police would take care of the situation professionally without citizen being able to watch. 

The senior locals thought of merpeople as threats or oddities of nature, too peculiar to interact with. There were stories about women who interacted closely getting abducted, bitten, or strangled to death by such creatures. It was treated like a myth while the tabloids and fisherman’s accounts said otherwise.

Mermen were usually described with distorted complexions, crooked bones, and blood-shot eyes. They stink abominably, one reporter said. The universal instruction by the mayor had been equally hideous: Kill, or run. The latter being less preferred because they had to be chased, exploited, and wiped out collectively when you read between the lines. 

Last year, there had been gossip about a group of men - designated hunters - sawing off a living merman’s tail and selling it on the black market. Any chopped off hair would bring half a million, too. A million with the scalp attached. The mayor propagated the extermination of these “slimy beasts” when an issue surfaced, all while keeping a trophy fin in his living room, that you were sure of.  

But the motionless boy right below you does not appear monstrous at all. His features are almost resemblant to what can be considered human despite that he came from the sea. The upper body, at least. Who knows what kind of world is out there. The contrived stories made you mad, they had been all lies. 

Even if your trainers are now completely sunk in, you close the distance entirely.

You look at him with concern. Why is he here, like this, so close to the coast? Your eyes roam up and down, up and down. The cerulean little scales splattered all over his large tail, the sapphire beads around his neck, next to coral lobster claws. 

His beauty erases everything in your mind. The teal and silver mane that falls in soft waves and purple braids. They are really, really long and gleaming with an enigma that you fail to grasp. How could anyone be cruel enough to maim him. Everything about this boy had to stay wherever it was. 

You inspect his body closer to look for injuries, but there are none. He plainly seems drained, but impossibly beautiful at the same time. His chest is still moving, but both eyes remained closed. You don’t know if mermen can get unconscious. 

Perhaps he is just asleep. So ethereal. It all proved the envious locals very dirty liars. They’re conspiring because they know very well how alluring they look like. Since only mermen have been spotted, all efforts to deter every woman in town from getting just one glimpse were rampant. 

No human male could quite compare. Except maybe your gay friend and neighbor Taehyung who might just drop dead if he were here. If your female friends saw this boy, the ones who were married would file for divorce. The truly despicable vermin were the conservative men of this town. 

Certainly, there are different rules of anatomy and physics that apply to mermen that nobody has ever talked about on shore. You only see that the gills at the sides of his torso flutter hectically. It takes some time until you put two and two together. The falling tide that’s now miles away, it must have left him here. Maybe he lost a sense of direction and got caught by surprise. What an odyssey. 

He needs water, desperately. Of course he looks drained, and that’s more urgent than you assumed. You have to hurry up and do something not to see him fade away in front of your eyes. But, where to get it. It would have been straightforward if you hadn’t forgotten carrying a water bottle all along. 

You’re hesitant to touch him, but eventually get yourself to rub the sides of his torso, pouring water bit by bit. His skin is so delicate that you don’t dare to apply pressure. His eyes flutter once, and you think he can see what you are doing. 

But you did not bring enough water to sustain this moment. At least you know there’s still a chance.

There’s no other option, then. You sprint back to your house, pulse working overtime until you find the long-ignored supply closet key. 

An old plastic cover splattered with color comes into sight. It has been formerly used by Taehyung who asked to depict the scenery at your beach. He’s a painter, but too much of a literal fine artist to leave anything sturdy at your house. You keep searching. 

At the back, there’s a soiled, but still functional sailcloth with rope running through its eyelets. Hauling that to the beach would not be possible if you weren’t pumped with adrenaline and sheer panic. It has been a huge risk having him left alone out there. This all takes too damn long.

The relief finding him untouched gives you more assurance. The sail sticks to the ground in no time spreading it out next to him. An attempt to roll him onto there using a shove of two hands fails. Only a rope tied around his waist gives everything a decent impetus. Once he’s in place, you pull the canvas tight with the rope and start dragging. But oh my, is he heavy. It’s the colossal tail that probably weighs the most, gravity has no mercy on your arms today. 

It takes a few painstaking feet until the cloth starts to run smoothly on the wet ground. Through the dewy lawn of your property, it works much better until your trainers go on a strike. Next time you’ll go to the beach with heavy boots. It’s better with bare feet then, though you encounter another problem. The grass isn’t particularly even, so you have to maneuver around a bump or two. The 10 x 20 feet swimming pool comes into sight quite tardily.

He slumps into the water with a dull splash. You made it by the skin of your teeth and everything hurts. It’s a miracle. The water is uncomfortably icy as you enter, grabbing hold of his shoulders. You have to remind yourself to be careful, washing away all remnants of sand and dirt. The filtration system will take care of it. Again you note how silky the texture of his skin and scales is, clearly not made for life ashore. Before the water starts to paralyze you more with its frostiness, you decide to submerge him completely at the bottom of the pool. Different laws of physics, you remind yourself. For a human, air would basically be like water for him. His own weight sustains him down there well as of now. Begrudgingly, you leave to change clothes.

It’s good that your backyard is surrounded by copious palisades. You do hope nobody observed anything, thinking you transported some carcass or worse, and check back just three minutes later. The garden gate is firmly locked already but doesn’t do much to pacify your feelings of imminent paranoia. So the balcony is a good place to stay where you can sit with your laptop to catch up with pressing work. Any concentration is still out the window though, and any noise snaps you out of typing in emails. 

The pool water rouses after the nearby church bell strikes 11 am. You return to the gazebo next to the pool to look if you’re not hallucinating, met with huge, dark eyes. They’re Prussian blue and almost doe-like. He’s leaning at the edge, two arms propped up.

“Thank you, madam. You didn’t have to do this,” he dabbles quite gently, stirring the water with his tail to cause ripples. His voice is very pleasant and friendly, youthful. Never did you think he would be able to speak your language. Everything comes unexpected today.

“Nevermind,” you respond, trying not to show both incredulousness and unease. There is no way in making this sound like a proper conversation, but you try. He called you madam, after all. 

”I came to pry for shells and lost my sense of time. It’s my bad.”

You squat down at the edge of the pool at some distance. This seems all too much at once. Yet you have to gather words to let him know.

“Don’t, don’t say that. I can’t let you die out there. To see you become food in a tin can if a hunter or the police come along.”

It strikes a chord with him, and you instantly regret saying it.

“I know who they are. Their prejudice has killed one of my brothers not long ago.” He’s downcast now, impossibly sad. You know who this brother was. A little glistening tear makes its way down his cheek, he picks it up with thumb and index finger. It has turned into a small pearl. “You’re not like them. I can be glad you picked me up without fear or reporting it.” 

You enclose the shiny gift with two palms as he passes over the bead. When you tuck it away, it rests in the breast pocket of your blouse. The merman looks very relieved to see you accept it.

“It’s not over yet. But I guess I did the right things so far. You’re alive. I hope I can drag you back at high tide. Or do you need more time?”

“My body regenerated. But my mind, I feel very strange and dizzy, still. Tomorrow.”

“Shit… it’s the chlorine in the water. I don’t think that’s good for you.”

“Chlorine?”

You wonder why he speaks your language perfectly but doesn’t know this.

“To disinfect bacteria dangerous to humans. For you, it might just be nauseating. Maybe because you’re not used to it, or sensitive. Wait, I’ll use the pool filter. I have one.” 

While you take care of the pump and also clean away some debris, the curious merman lingers closely. 

“Did I tell you my name yet? I’m Jungkook. I have a question, actually. It might sound weird.”

You look up from your task. Jungkook. It’s fitting.

“Just go ahead. I’m Y/N.”

“Why do you have a pool next to the sea?”

He’s a bright guy. You understand where the query is coming from, too.

“I do love the sea like you. But the waves are too high. It’s dangerous to bathe there without a vigilant eye. You’ve seen what happened. I prefer to swim here, especially when it’s warmer.”

“Oh, I forgot,” he marvels at you, “humans can’t swim that well in the cold.”

“It’s true. We have trouble moving around mermen as well,” you chuckle, glad your work at the pump is completed. You stand up to return to Jungkook. His presence is soothing, almost familiar. 

In that very moment, hasty knocks and rattles resound from the garden gate.

Jungkook immerses himself in water within a split second. He’s diving down faster than you can say anything, in fact. The pool’s surrounding bushes have saved you from being seen with him, thankfully, but your feeling tells you to hurry to the gate as soon as you can. But you have to stop yourself from being in a rush not to be suspicious. It’s painfully obvious who it is from a distance already. You’re in trouble. 

It’s Taehyung.

“Oh hey, hey! I rang the doorbell — nobody responded. Figured you’re here! How ya doin’?”

A hurricane as usual. You keep the gate locked. He’s looking at you through the metal bars with inquisitive eyes.

“What do you want, Kim… I’m busy.”

“Sorry, just looking for my painting cover. Do you still have it? Am gone in a minute.”

“Sure.” 

You spin around and race inside without further ado. Taehyung must think you have gone completely mad now, but knowing Jungkook is likely having a heart attack down there you would waste no second. You return breathless, red blotches all over the face. He rolls his eyes.

“Slow down, slow down, Noona. It’s Sunday. God, heterosexual people. Always caught in such a fuss.”

“They are. Now, here. Take it. Just, buzz off now, Kim. Got things to do.” 

And again, you spin around on your heel and hear him trot away sulking, but clenching his long-lost cover tight. He said he’s gone in a minute, then he has to deal with it. You’ll have to come up with something very intricate to appease him next time when he mocks you for it. And you are sure he will, because Taehyung notices when something’s off. Telling him the truth would be like being Taylor Swift’s boyfriend, he would just broadcast everything.

You dash back and lean over the pool for Jungkook to recognize you. But nothing moves. He’s right about staying where he is. If the police coerced you to be their decoy, luring him out, he’d be dead. Jungkook, that is indisputable to you, continues to prove being very sharp save being aware of tides. The media never talked about merpeople being this people-conscious and easily intimidated. They’re just drawing them as evil to get hunting permission. Vicious pigs. 

You want to make them fall. 

There’s something else that strikes you, watching for activity in the pool. There must be a way that merpeople gather excessive knowledge about humans. Or it might be a contact person. But you don’t want to know, it might be a way to trace them back. Such a secret must never be revealed, you know you’ll take all this to your grave to protect him. It would be good to tell your story to everyone so they would change their mind. But the police was hawk-eyed and knew how to press for information. 

They’d be hellbent and relentless to slit his throat as soon as they could. Officials and hunters had methods to find him if it was not too far out in the ocean. Or they would just wait until he came back to you sooner or later. You are sure that he will. He’s feeling indebted. And attached. You’re too. You dread the day, and tomorrow’s goodbye if it actually comes. 

You have to admit it: This propelled you into a gigantic mess. You already felt your heart burst when Taehyung knocked. You have to guard Jungkook from a greater fuck-up, come what may. 

With the entire government of Busan or even Seoul against you when your secret ever goes public. Because they want to keep it on the low, too, and would stop at nothing. You did not go against the law but social customs and conservative morale, and those are by far more powerful. 

You rip off your blouse and pants and toss them on the balcony. Your tank top is hardly suitable for the temperature, but the pool water is slightly warmer as you get in slowly. The chlorine has faded. The first good news for today.

Diving down, Jungkook appears curled up in the deepest, darkest corner, holding his hair together so it won’t float up and betray him. Most of the fright on his face dissolves when you give an intent thumbs up. These mermen understand so much about your culture. You cannot let go of this thought. How could he know?

Swimming closer, you seize him by the hands, nodding your head toward the surface. He pulls you up with ease, fast and agile. Emerging, you have to draw several breaths. He looks around frantically. You hope this didn’t traumatize him.  

“It was my neighbour friend asking for art supplies. He left and didn’t see anything. Nobody else around. We’re good. Jungkook, it’s alright. It was just a friend.”

It’s Sunday, thankfully.

“I was so afraid… There was a vision, I was bleeding!”

“It’s okay now. There’s no blood. I protect you, nothing will happen.”

It’s of no use. He can’t stop looking around. Jungkook needs something to ground him. 

A little kiss on the forehead. 

It makes his cheeks turn cobalt blue. You feel how his tail sways back and forth a bit quicker. You part your legs wider so they won’t crush his fin in between. 

“I will handle it. If I can pull you out of the mud, then I can subdue them when they ever show up. You just have to hide. Jungkook.”

It’s self-persuasion and hoping for a self-fulfilling prophecy. But you’re beaming at him, and his smile grows just as large.

“Y/N, you’re very strong. I wouldn’t know where I’d be without your help. You hardly knew me, just my kin.” 

“So did you. But you didn’t freak out when you were awake.”

He nods emphatically.

“I felt your hands on my gills. It was very nice. Like waves. I knew you were benevolent, you resemble the sea when you move. No bad person does this. Can you… again? Only if you want, I—”

What he said stuns you for seconds. Your hands move to his upper body on autopilot. 

“Like, like this?”

Jungkook sighs a mellowed yes when you start to stimulate his sides. His gills are much more relaxed than at the beach. After some strokes, you’re leaning in so much that his arms virtually just have to close an inch around you for an embrace. 

He clings to you in a tight hug, your lips coming up to meet his. Whatever magic or trick he is using, they feel curiously sparkling and slightly saline after a while. It’s magnificent. Meanwhile, your breasts are squeezed flat against his chest, feeling how Jungkook’s heartbeat accelerates. Much like his fin that’s bringing more of his tail between your legs. You pull them upwards a bit, but inevitably he brushes against your pubes. You thought it would be awkward. But something about his body infatuates your skin like an ancient charm. 

“Apologies Y/N, I didn’t mean to!”

“Don’t be sorry. Just, fuck… do it again. Feels awesome. You can be yourself with me.”

He understands, bringing his tail stark forward this time. Shit. Your clit says yes to that. So does your face judging by how he reacts, a lot keener than before.  

“Jungkook, I have a weird question, too,” you brush back against him, “Is it possible, I mean. Can you penetrate me somehow, or…?”

He’s blushing a second time.

“I can peel the scales apart at the front.”

And he does it. 

Oh wow.

He has the most gorgeous shaft you’ve ever seen. Clad in lustrous, thin scales sprouts forth a splendid length tinted in jade. It sojourns hard and upright, poking heavy at your clit and entrance only separated by your underwear. 

“You can’t impregnate me, right?”

“I can’t. Human egg cells are too small and not receptive.”

That has you wondering, and quite amused how he said that. It means something big is coming. Sounds like fun.

“Can I ride you then?”

“You can do anything, really.”

It can’t get any hotter. Thankfully, you’re half undressed already. The panties you had left on soon float elsewhere just below the surface, and you’re shoving up the hem of your tank top. His chest feels ten times as invigorating when you’re naked against it. There’s hesitation when you reach for his cock. You don’t want to do anything wrong to hurt him. But Jungkook is encouraging the initiative. And the way he’s dipping at you flicks a plethora of switches. So it’s easy. You slip him in and start to move your hips. Soon you realize it’s a bit difficult to go down further.

“Can I use a spell? It helps.” he exhales. You knew it, he has those abilities.

“Mh, love to see it.”

There he goes. You catch Jungkook whispering a convoluted spell to himself before your walls pop open without further trial. He’s dipping in first, then going half the way already. That’s not normal at all. He knows what he’s doing, though. It’s so, so damn good. 

Jungkook is completely ecstatic. 

Your experience so far has been that sex in water generally… doesn’t go well. No lubrication, no fucking. But no, this has to be the best exception. The practically seamless scales, they’re really doing the trick. The plunge is slick and exciting, going in clean with every bounce. And there’s a quite a stunning lot to slide up and down on, that you get to welcome soon. He’s getting confident to echo the thrust with eyes fixated on yours. 

“Give me more of that,” you insist, leaving both legs wrapped around his wavering tail. It’s almost too slippery to hold on to. But good to sink down smoothly while squeezing deeper inside. You’re pushed upwards the more he fucks into you. His tip is broad enough to anchor you, not letting you glide off easily. But you’re dangerous close to it. So you’re letting yourself drop down on him with more momentum which he has to cushion first, causing your belly to bulge out considerably. You’re obsessed. 

“Lift my legs more, Jungkook!”

Like that, the insides of your thighs graze at his gills, abrasive and brisk. To your surprise, it eventuates in sharper thrusts going for your sweetest spots. The depth that he pursues now starts to stretch you hard and wide on the glossy scales. Jungkook keeps murmuring spells. If this goes on for any longer, that’s a cock riding that would send not only you but Taehyung and the entire neighborhood to the gates of heaven and higher. 

You keep shoving him straight up to dent out your abdomen, and he’s making it so salacious with his little moans. When you’re grabbing for hold at his shoulders, Jungkook warns you about his precum. Indeed it’s not to underestimate when you feel it, making everything two times as sleek. You slump down completely now, surprised not to feel any trace of balls against your ass. 

Different anatomy. 

Normal men need cooling for their sperm outside of their body, otherwise they would not survive. Jungkook? He’s got something else going on. Busan’s sea is not notoriously warm.

“Intertwine your fingers in my hair, Y/N—”

“What? Can I really do that?”

It sounds like heresy to your ears. 

“It’ll stimulate you, do it quickly,” he persists, and your fingers seek a place in his silky mane. And Christ, he’s right. There’s a rapid sedation of the anxious thoughts at the back of your mind. Instead, you’re feeling an immense euphoria descend from your spine down to your loins. Jungkook whimpers while you’re drilling him deeper with all your power. Slowly but surely, you lose yourself in his dazzling ocean hair. You’re so happy now. Nothing matters. Just you together within the blur of everything else. 

Fuck society. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. 

Jungkook’s moans have grown incomprehensible. Both of your hands soak up more of the sky blue energy. And once you grab the strands tighter, an overwhelming current verberates in your back until you’re ready and cumming. The world is so elated, nothing can bring your hands away from his hair. It’s pushing you to the limit incessantly. Better than any drug trip, better than the feeling after you ran your second marathon. You’re climaxing so vigorously on him that twenty seconds in, something effervescent and tingly begins to pour into your womb like a bursting well. His unearthly groaning gives you an idea of how much it shatters and empties him. You get filled to the brim and it won’t stop. Of course, he’s significantly larger than the average human — much semen to store then, by your logic at least. You do get a glimpse of the proportions as Jungkook keeps cramming loads and loads past your cervix while your orgasm keeps electrifying even the last corner of your body.  

The well won’t cease. He keeps moving until you’re entirely pumped full with an all creamy, tickling substance. You try to keep everything in not to leak it into the water. But it’s too much. With each of his last thrusts, the bulk of it just comes spilling out. A shimmering, dark cyan liquid rises to the surface in gradient plumes, mixed with streaks of your cum. It looks like fluid shapes of orchids showing as a supple iridescent foam. 

And it turns golden.

The scent gives you a feeling of the hours after rain in spring. Jungkook picks up a decent bit of the foam with two fingers, slipping them into his mouth. He leans in to kiss you again as you reach the aftermath of your peak that threatens to leave you bland. But what happens now makes you tighten around his dick once again, seizing out more to splutter inside.   

On your tongue unfold an explosion of jasmine blended with peppermint, thyme, fresh raspberries, wild honey, and even something like caramel. There was no way you would have been prepared for this. You had expected something like a sea breeze, but this beats all that you could imagine. Because beyond approximation, you can’t really describe what it is like. 

You swallow fast and retreat one hand from his hair to pick up something yourself. This is the best thing you’ve ever tasted. It can’t be called an actual thing, in fact, it’s more than that. It has to be an artifact. A magic potion that you want to bottle up and drink all day, sweet and glowing. 

It’s like alchemy. 

And you’re so deliciously stuffed with that now.  

Before you pull him out, all the negative pressure culminates. Then, the rest of his seed bubbles up placidly. The gaping feels like you just jammed a baseball bat inside of yourself, reckless abandon with a Himalaya of premium coke up your nose. Complete inebriation. 

Water streams in and flushes out the final strands of cyan when his following spells seal you tight. Jungkook holds you firm until you detangle his hair with your remaining hand, then place it on his cheek. If there were mermaids out there, they’d be the luckiest women on the entire planet. 

“Kook”, you whisper with an unwinding tremble, “you’re amazing.”

Anchoring an old khaki tent next to the pool takes some time, but you remember something about the manual. This goes here, that goes there, and this is how you zip up a sleeping bag. Jungkook giggles along. You can’t afford to sleep inside tonight. You only move your blouse to the safety of your wardrobe and get a snack, switch on the lights of the balcony to illuminate the garden for the rest of the evening. He’s singing for you.

The next day is grueling because you have to go to work. But before leaving, you relocate Jungkook to the bathtub as fast as possible, leaving him your phone with a short explanation so he can call you and vice versa. The anxiety comes back.  

He gets lighthearted leisure magazines and books to spend the time, and devours them. History, art, fashion, beauty, celebrities, health, sports, food, philosophy, fantasy, comedy. He also asks for a globe and celestial map, saying his uncle vaguely told him about it. Maybe it’s good that he knows a bit more about the mainland when he returns. You don’t want to let him go with the same ideas he had before, give him a bit of faith in the good things you had here. The other side of the coin, even if it was just a glimpse of hope. 

Though you didn’t expect him to return to your mansion in any way. Humanity is already terrifying enough. Especially after his loss. This should not happen again. You decide to leave him your trusted chef knife and a word of caution. He doesn’t know how to use it so you teach him the technique. He says he wouldn’t be any better than his attackers if there were some. You try to clarify that it’s the way humans act sometimes. Tit for tat. And he has all the right and responsibility to defend himself under threat, otherwise, he would never be able to see the stars again. 

At 10 am you give him a short call. He’s fine, quite mesmerized how the phone works, and just a bit hungry. You decide not to spend lunchtime in the city, but speed your car to a local supermarket and deli, looking for seaweed. Returning home Jungkook is still in his place, having managed to drop Terry Pratchett and J. K. Rowling into the water. But all else is as before. In the afternoon, you call him twice. He talks about the invention of the lightbulb, pasta salad, Kant, and how nicely Tolkien writes about Hobbits. Work passes torturously slow, the keyboard in front of you blurs each time your mind drifts away. You go home early, leaving your subordinates Jimin and Seokjin a bit puzzled at a shallow excuse. If only they knew.

It’s way after dawn when you move him out of the bathroom. Jungkook gets the idea that you could just use a wheelbarrow this time, knowing you own one after having had enough hours to glance around your garden already. You fill a bit of water into it and pick boots with a sturdy profile. And it works, the leverage is much better on the arms. You arrive at the beach laughing and joking together how silly of a duo you must look like. Jungkook has already given his word to come back in two days around the same time. 

The tide is close enough for you to take him to the water. He parts reluctantly with five, six, seven sublime kisses. You hope he wasn’t missed by his family. Busan’s nocturnal skyline radiates from afar when you watch him swim east ever so elegantly.  

It’s hard to find any sleep later. Your arms still ache like hell from dragging him. And so many things are going through your head. You end up outside in the tent after taking a quick shower, pretending he’s still there. Jungkook has last started a chapter from the Chronicles of Narnia, and you put yourself in a tired daze finishing it. Work tomorrow is going to be so hard.

Jimin asks if you’re okay while he organizes some files, but doesn’t comment anything further. You resume typing with the feeling that you are now leading a double life. Taehyung’s words come back: Slow down, slow down. And you do. Wednesday you will see him at the bay, everything is alright. Who knows what you will do afterwards, how often you will meet. Maybe it’s good not to make him cross into dangerous territory regularly, or at least you should look for more hidden places. You’ll make it.

Two days after, you receive an early mail. You’re drowsy but startled, Taehyung and Jin haven’t sent anything for months. It has to be one of them.

It’s only a red envelope and some strangely filled paper bag. You peel open the red letter first.

It was made with a typewriter. 

“A million and you get the fish back whole. He has a nice buzzcut already. Friday 1 pm, quay. Pull up with the money or you’ll see him on the news. Tell anybody and we will do the same to you.”

Below, the paper is embossed with a saw and hook symbol. 

You drop the bag as soon as you open it. 

There are hundreds of tiny pearls on the floor. 

chapter two ║ i’m no angel (m)

↳ summary | who do you have to become to get him back?

⚠️ graphic violence, threat of drowning, car accident, aftermath of torture.

There’s an old cage.

Bars bent and crooked.

Not abandoned, just empty since this very day. You know he must have been inside, nothing else makes sense. The lingering smell around here, it belongs to him. The air is spiked with thyme, the scent of grass after it rained. It’s familiar. It’s so painful. You go on searching every corner of the hangar in a fever. It looks like a warehouse from the inside, stuffed with tools and other miscellaneous equipment.

Some wood, nails. Discarded tires. You’ve seen some of them on the SUV you followed to Busan city limits. You try to memorize the letters and numbers on them. AZ1-5986. Whatever that means. It could be of help later since you don’t know the SUV’s license plate.

As you remember that it’d be straightforward to just photograph the tires with your phone, a faint knocking sets your world on fire. It keeps repeating, they are fast and erratic knocks. Not mechanical ones. Not calm ones.

You hurry into the direction where you suspect they are coming from. There’s no doubt in your mind that you should not go. It’s the only sign of life, or whatever it is in this building. Somewhere, somewhere at the back behind two parked up seaplanes, timeworn and half deconstructed, there you locate it. A moss-covered fish tank is jammed between a humongous workbench and a freezer. A tail rests and winds grazing tight against the glass inside. Oh my god.

Yes, it’s him. You unbolt the lid, bring it down crashing on the freezer. Jungkook spins around inside the tank until his face comes to the surface. Pale grey eyes. Charcoal hair, cropped short. Pursed lips and a tapered chin. An Ingenue look. He’s agitated.

“I’ve heard you calling for him, you’re the one Jungkook’s talked about!”

No. It’s not Jungkook. Not his voice, not his face. Too lean, not sturdy at all. It’s definitely not him. His scent is much different, too. Sweet chestnuts, basil. It’s not familiar.

“Who are you, where is he?”

“Yoongi,” the merman blinks, “I’m his friend. They got us both at once at the beach.”

That’s what you feared. Jungkook’s friends and family getting dragged into this. You wish you had just sent him out as far away as possible where the hunters wouldn’t get him.

“I’m his—”

You don’t know what you are to him. A girlfriend? Hardly. An affair? More than that. It sounds weird anyway. Affairs are not that serious.

“He loves you.”

There it is. Jungkook told him. Lovers might be what describes you best.

“Where is he?”

“They’ve taken him to another place from here this morning. This is just the decoy. They told you to follow the car and fetch him here after paying.”

“They did. And now?”

“These are not the headquarters,” Yoongi props himself up at the edge of the tank. “The shipyard is. You have to go there!”

Of course. This hangar is as good as useless for a permanent stay. It’s just for the dirty work.

“And what happens with you? I won’t leave you here like that. But I can’t transport you in my car, there’s nothing like this tank.”

“It takes half an hour until I can’t go without any water. If you drop me at the sea it’s fine.”

“So I can take you with me?”

“I’ll be grateful forever. Jungkook didn’t lie about how you treat us.”

You steer your car into the hangar backwards, get out again with the engine on, rip the trunk open. The size has to be enough.

The high walls of the fish tank don’t permit you to lift Yoongi out of it. He tries to push himself up with the help of his fin several times, but he’s too large, the glass to slippery, and the tank too narrow. As a last resort, you grab a sledgehammer from the workbench to impact and shatter the glass. The handle is long, maybe 17 or 18 inches, allowing you to step back and lunge quite far. The glass doesn’t break right away. You are not used to wielding something like this. It takes three more strikes until you demolish the front wall. You have to be careful not to hit where Yoongi’s tail squeezes against the glass.

The gush of water Yoongi pushes you back, everything goes into splinters with fragments of glass bursting to the sides, then floating everywhere on the ground. Yoongi cuts himself several times at the arms and lower back before you can pick him up. His chest is flat and cold against yours, his body heavy and close to glide far from your grasp. Less so than Jungkook, but still it feels like the weight is tearing off your arms. His skin is like you’re touching soap.

There’s no sailing cloth or Taehyung’s art supplies this time. You try to heave him up as much as possible so his fin won’t touch the ground, glass cracking under your boots until you reach the car. Yoongi howls with pain when you try to tuck him in. His wounds scratch hard at the trunk’s plastic inlet. You show him how to open and close the tailgate from the inside, then shut it and set off.

It takes ten minutes to the bay.

The boatyard towers over the cranes and docks of the harbor. You speed in order to drive around. And there it is. AZ1-5986. They didn’t park the car inside, no. It stands blazen at the rear entrance. And they met you at 1 PM in the middle of the day. You’ve been tricked by absolute amateurs.

Or not.

There’s a scream coming from the inside. Sharp, heartbreaking.

No time to bring Yoongi to the sea.

You seize the sledgehammer from the passenger seat. And go.

You recognize them at one glance. It’s the small man and red-head woman you saw driving the SUV, the woman being the one you gave the ransom to. She gave cold instructions. The man is currently wearing large gloves, dripping with water. To your surprise, they seem to be alone. The vast silence of the dockyard seems too large to house them here. The woman sneers at you, patting the front of her black leather jacket.

“Your envelope’s still right here, Miss.”

“It will be here soon,” you point towards your own jeans pocket at the front.

She only tugs at her necklace in return. It’s made of colorful hair. Gold, turquoise. Teal and silver. You realized something. Only one thing drives them: cash. And since the government still wants the monopoly in the equation, that will be their eternal aim. Hunters are only tolerated for doing the messy jobs. The profiteer is elsewhere. And with the sums that they trade the mermen, your ransom money is only a temporary achievement, gone tomorrow. It’s not what Jungkook is worth to you anyways. Money can’t measure Jungkook. If only you could hold him.

What your instinct tells you at the sight of the hair is: Killing. No matter if it would alert authorities sooner or later, or bring a gang to your garden. But Jungkook’s words are still at the back of your mind. You don’t know if you’d be ready to be just as bad as they are. Maybe you’re no angel in all of this. You’ve infringed on the circle of life the minute you decided to pour water on Jungkook’s body at the beach. But there’s no way back. You have to be as bad, even worse. For him.

Because there he lies, in a giant tank with another merman with orange tail and skin. It’s close enough to see what’s inside. Pearls are piling up at the ground, and well from his eyes when they lock on you. His hair looks auburn, the long vivid strands are gone. They picked a lot of scales off his tail, too, leaving bloody spots. All the jewelry is nowhere to be seen. Instead, a heavy chain is wound secure around him several times, weighing his body to the ground. The other merman doesn’t have a chain. His scales and hair are removed entirely. They sawed one of his arms off, too. If you can judge by his face, the decaying process has already started. He’s been here for longer.

Your anger is boiling up. The woman’s shallow smile pushes you over the edge at last. She pulls out a soiled drop point knife. You hate her so much. This place has to be wiped out. Erased, cauterized. The entire gang if you have to. You charge gripping the hammer at the top with the right hand, at the bottom with your heft. Before you reach her, the man is wrapping his hands around your neck from behind, pulling you back from her.

One foot, two feet, three. You can’t breathe, panic. The feeling of his gloves is terrifying on your skin, in your mind. But the thought of Jungkook burns inside. Again you focus all energy in your arms. Finally. He takes your elbow to the stomach, cries out, and topples down. Before the man catches himself, you follow your impulse. It’s good that he dragged you away. This is the only chance. You withdraw your right hand from the handle and take a long swing back with all the might in your left arm. You hurl the hammer forward and send it flying towards her legs. The spin knocks her over right away. This tree got cut down. If you could, you’d make wood briquettes. But not now.

He’s coming at you again. Now that she’s unconscious, your job is easy even if your hammer is gone. Men have more frontal weak spots to hit.

He has his gloved fists up. Going towards you slowly. First he tries to suffocate you, now he’s playing fair, doesn’t he. You’ll floor him faster than her. Suits him, he’s the minion. The prick probably sawed apart Jungkook’s brother.

You wait until he comes close enough, put your fists up in return. Shit, shit, shit. Your arms hurt so much. You play the game despite the ache, dancing from foot to foot as he comes in. Then boot nasty fucker in the groin aimed from below, explosive and direct. He stumbles backward with a yell, falling agonized and twitching. You dive after him, leg extended to land a second kick under his chin. His head snaps back. That beats him senseless for once.

But you worry about Yoongi. The trunk. He’s still in there. Since twenty minutes or more. And even if he knows how to get out of there, it’s of no use. He can’t go anywhere. This has to be fast. At the other end of the scene, you pull the envelope from the woman’s jacket, along with a metal key and her necklace. She doesn’t deserve it.

You hurry to Jungkook, hammer all too heavy in your hands again. At one point, your arms are going to fall off your torso. But now you know better. You dash the tank to pieces in one final hurl towards the right spot, entirely graceless but effective. The water swipes you off your feet in a large outpour. Exhaustion is coming.

The splinters are much larger this time and the float glass appears to almost detonate under the pressure released. Jungkook is too heavy to get carried off by the surge. He lands just feet away next to you crying, repeating your name until you manage to stand up leaving the hammer behind.

“I missed you, Jungkook, what—”

“You, you came,” he winces, “are you fine?”

“Don’t ask about me,” you fumble at the lock of his chain, “we’ll get this off, talk is for later.”

“It hurts.”

He’s looking at you from dulled eyes. They might have put him into water, but the life is still drained out of him. You don’t want to imagine what happened. They bound the chain around him so tight that it left purple traces. After it’s off, you already know what to do with it. Jungkook picks an orange scale from his dead friend in the debris, whispering a last goodbye.

The thirty minutes are long over. The trunk is closed when you come out of the backdoor with Jungkook.

You open to a smiling Yoongi the second he sees you and Jungkook in your arms.

“Yoongi, you okay? Left you waiting.”

“Sure, but you?” he ruffles his hair a bit. You blink twice, seeing that it has grown a bit longer and darker since you saw it in the hangar. You noticed that with Jungkook as well, but didn’t put two and two together, or actually believed your own eyes. It must be magic at work. Or different physics.

At a second glance, there’s a decent layer of water in the trunk.

“Yes, they’re in chains. Where does the water come from?”

“You had several bottles of sparkling water in the corner. I like how it tingles, we don’t have that out there. My wounds... it seems they regenerate.”

Of course! The water. You bought it when getting groceries for Jungkook.

“And what do we do with the two?”

“We could take them out with us. But they’re affiliates, they all know about each other.”

“I’ll decide later by myself,” you guide Jungkook onto the rear bench seat. “We need to go...”

You kickstart the car, turn to head for the one-way lane to the docks. As close as your car permits, you maneuver toward the edge where water towers high. The tide is in favor. But there’s commotion at the end of the street where you came from. It’s a truck.

“Hurry!” Jungkook cries, “That’s the rest of them!”

You can’t drive away with them now. If you’re able to drop both off, then you’re already lucky. You drive closer to the water, preparing to unlock the car with your electric key so Yoongi gets the sign to open the trunk. But you soon feel that the car gets out of balance. You look into the rear-view mirror, estimating how much you could still drive backward, or forward. But it’s futile.

The weight in the back drags the car over the edge. You’re screaming. Jungkook tries to counterbalance. The car tips over anyways. It enters the water.

The door won’t open. Water keeps rising. The signal of the keys won’t unlock the car no matter how many times you press the button. Jungkook can’t manage to open the doors either, his strength has faded. The water level has almost reached the ceiling when he stops trying. You’re so far down and out of air, even if you managed to escape now diving upward would make you run out of air already. Maybe a few seconds left and you can say goodbye to this life. You can’t tell Jungkook how much you love him. It’s all too late. Everything, absolutely everything went wrong. Only failure remains. Fucked up from start to finish. Four lives ruined, two dead. You feel a thumping at the back of your head.

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with your hair from behind, whispering something between bubbles before you can’t hear anymore. An immense heat glues your legs together in an instant, melting the fabric of your jeans. A rousing bolt darts through your scalp, your feet stop moving. It feels like your body is bloating everywhere, soaking up water. Webbing springs forth between your fingers, fiery scales around your hips. Your hair starts growing out scarlet and thick, curling large before your eyes. The sides of your upper body start to open up wide, then close again. A burst of air expands in your lungs.

Now you know why Jungkook knew so much about civilized life.

Merpeople used to be human.

⁕ sequel: dauntless (m) | m.list in bio

Do not repost, modify, or translate my work. © 2017-2019. submissive-bangtan. All rights reserved.

[purplesurveys]

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Have you ever done a craft that you found on Pinterest? I’ve never gone on Pinterest for reasons other than looking for interior design ideas lmao, so no. I’m no good at crafts anyway so it’s not like looking at Pinterest will make me feel good or motivated. Do you get scrapbooking layout ideas from anywhere? I don���t do scrapbooking, but if I do start (and I’ve always wanted to), I’d definitely get some tips from the internet or from people I know who are artsy. What do you do to wipe off the dust from ordinary life? Drink. Are you content with mystery, or do you wish you knew everything? I wish I knew everything, no matter how bad the news may be. What do you do when someone irritates you on Facebook? Unfriend them, duh. I could still see them in real life anyway, but I can very much hate their presence online enough to unfriend/block them haha.

Are you judgmental? If I meet a person for the first time only after I’ve heard a couple of stuff about them, I might judge them for a bit yeah. Then I’ll brush it off first and see if they really are what I was told they’d be. Do you think your hair looks better natural or dyed? I’ve never had it dyed, so I wouldn’t know if it looks better. Do your parents disrespect you? My mom does; and she’s typically a disrespectful person. My dad’s pretty chill. Have you found that love covers over a multitude of sins? Sure. People just have to watch out and make sure love doesn’t reach such a point that it ends up becoming a cover-up for toxic behavior. What was the last Grand Opening you went to? Popeye’s HAHAHAHAHA. They opened their (second) first branch in the country around a year ago and we didn’t have classes that day, so we went. Do you have anything coming up tomorrow? No Monday classes for me, so the day would just consist of me doing schoolwork at home, or in a coffee shop, or whatever works for tomorrow. What's one thing that makes your stomach hurt? DAIRY. I’m having milk tea right now and it is a nightmare. But it tastes so good, so lactose town it is. Ever had a living nightmare? You mean the last 22 years of my life? Sure. Do you have a lot of haters? Idk, it’s possible but I don’t worry about that kinda stuff.

Do you think successful people always come with a pack of haters? Of course. People are alllllllllways envious. Do you have supernatural abilities? No. Do you kick yourself when you make mistakes? Do you say, "I wish I would have" a lot? Yeah I do this a lot. It drives my girlfriend nuts and she hates when I start on could have/should have rants, but it’s my thought process most days. Are you doing the most you can with your life? 'The most’ is probably pushing it. I know I can still do more like join contests, volunteer, be in more orgs, etc. but it doesn’t mean I’m unhappy where I am and with what I’ve done. I can still call myself satisfied, and I hope it means I’ve been doing something right. Do you let people walk on you? No. At least I don’t think so. Are you ok? Thanks for asking :’) I could be better, but at least I’m functioning and that’s better than being a vegetable in bed all day. Do you have a friend you miss right now? Yeah, I always miss Angela. Do you ever write snail mail to your friends? We don’t do that anymore dude. Do you make your life look better than it is on Facebook? Yeah. There’s like this quiet mutual understanding among people (at least in my generation) that Facebook is for impressing your relatives and showing how good of a life you have, and Twitter is where you air out your sadness and rants and all the mess in your personal life haha. Do you feel God's presence regularly? There is no presence to be felt. Do you experience chronic pain? Nope. Do you believe God loves you and is rooting for you? Don’t need anyone else other than my friends and myself to do both of those for me. Have you ever dreamt that you were falling? I’ve never dreamt it but I’d sometimes get that sensation when I would almost fall asleep. What would your dream career be? Lawyer. If I wasn’t such a fucking crybaby in arguments I think I’d survive law school just fine HAHA. Are you a daydreamer? Sure. Do you daydream so much that you wonder if there's anyone who doesn't?  Not really. I just daydream when I’m bored. Do you ever just sit and daydream for awhile?  ^ Again, only when I’m bored. Is the snow falling where you are right now? Snow has never fallen in the Philippines. What is your favorite part of nature? Mountains, and the spectacular views they can give. Do you wish you could be a world traveler? Sure. Do you wish you could live in another city for a year? I wish I could migrate to another country – that’s how much I want to get out of here. What city would you like to visit? I’m eyeing Bangkok for my next trip abroad if that’s ever going to happen :) What has been your favorite city that you've visited? Locally, Vigan or Sagada. Abroad... probably Bali. If you had kids, would you take them to Disney World? I’m definitely going to be that parent who takes my kids every year and lets them wear whatever costume they’d want. Have you ever stood in line to get a Disney character's autograph? No. Do you own a birthday crown? I had a tiara for my 7th birthday party, but I’m not sure if my mom was able to keep it. How long does it usually take your hair to dry? Do you dry it naturally or blow-dry it? I have it dry naturally because I get bored blow-drying it. It usually takes an hour or two. Do you straighten your hair? No. I have bad experiences with that because as a kid/teenager, my mom would force me to have my hair rebonded even if I never wanted to have it done to my hair; so these days, when someone asks if I prefer my hair to be straightened, I shudder and say no. Do you sleep with a teddy bear? No and I never did. I was never into stuffed toys. Would you consider yourself a free spirit? To an extent, I guess. I do enjoy being independent and trying out new things, but I always want people to be with me along the way. If I’m gonna travel the world, I need a travel buddy. If I’m gonna go hiking in Sagada, I’d feel better having a companion. If I’m gonna try worms or bugs for the first time, it’s always nicer having someone who’s just as daring when it comes to food. I’m basically a free spirit who never wants to feel lonely, haha. Do you need to clean out your closet? I need to refold some of my clothes, but otherwise I know where everything is. Do you watch YouTube videos regularly? Yeah, I watch at least one video a day. What's your favorite coffee shop? Starbucks will always be my first love for their ambience, but Coffee Bean is pretty great too. Is your Pinterest page cluttered? It’s not used at all. Do you want to start a collection? Yes, I always said I would start collecting all sorts of WWF/E memorabilia once I’m able to afford having a steadily-growing collection. My future house is definitely gonna have its own ~man cave~ except it’ll be for wrestling merch, and it’ll have its own TV and sound system too for when I want to hide from the world and just find solace in wrestling. Are you a role model? Would you consider yourself a good example? I’ve had people say they look up to me for certain traits, but this isn’t something I actively try to become. I have bad habits and vices of my own, so I definitely don’t endorse myself as a role model. But if I can help people in other aspects, then that’s more than alright with me. Are you a leader or a follower? Follower. I like being a leader whenever I can, but there’s too much pressure in being the leader all the time. Who's your favorite person? My girlfriend, durrr. Who have been your favorite American Idol contestants? Siobhan Magnus, Adam Lambert, and Pia Toscano. Did you used to name your Barbies? No. I never liked playing with Barbies either. I think I only ever got one Barbie doll as a present, and it’s because I always preferred playing with toys for boys given that I grew up with mostly male cousins. What unnatural hair color looks best on you?  I’m not sure. I’ve wanted to dye my hair either red or green, though. Is your life boring? No. It’s certainly picked up in the last few months. Do you usually feel better around people or alone? I do great for both situations. It depends on what I need at a particular time. Is there a broken relationship in your life that you want to fix? There’s a broken relationship, but I have no desire to fix it. Do you ever think about Heaven? A part of me finds a level of solace in the idea of getting reunited with lost loved ones when I die, but I mostly think there’s no afterlife. Are you ready for Heaven yet? Are you afraid of where you're going to go? No. I’d like to think I’ll end up somewhere in the universe, and it’s enough to calm me down. Do you have a tree outside your window? Yes, but it’s dark and we have curtains so I can barely see the trees. Do you feel better now than you did last night? I wouldn’t say that, even though I’m feeling okay tonight. I was with Gabie last night, which automatically makes last night better. Is your sleep schedule messed up? It’s still a little bit distorted, yeah. But I’m not too worried about it because at least all my classes this sem start at 10 AM, which means I get to sleep in unlike last sem when I had 7 AM/8:30 AM classes :) Does your body have any problems with it? It gets tired during the day because I’d usually take naps in the afternoon, but it doesn’t affect me too badly. Are you doing ok spiritually? I don’t think about that aspect. Have you taken any huge risks lately? I had a long, blunt talk with Gab last night and it involved topics regarding our relationship that have long been denied and shelved finally acknowledged and let out in the open; and I think that in itself is a big step to take. Silence or songs? I can prefer either depending on my mood. Tea or coffee? Coffee. Books or movies? 10 year old me would say books. Today me would say movies. Do you ever watch your favorite movies from when you were a kid? Yes. I do a Toy Story rewatch at least once a year. ^If you were going to do that, what would you watch? Mostly Disney movies like Toy Story, Finding Nemo, The Game Plan, etc. Do you ignore rude people or do you call them out? Call them out. Do you have trouble staying organized? Yeah, but then again I’m messy-organized so even though I find it hard to maintain being organized, I still end up remember where everything is placed (most of the time). What has been your most favorite adventure? Walking around Bali and my family not knowing where the hell we were or where we were headed. What has been your greatest mistake? I hate questions like this. Are you happy with your life right now? I’m like 75% happy with it, which I’d say is a decently healthy amount. Do you take anything to make your feel better? No. Are your parents still together? Yes. What color socks do you have on? Currently barefoot. Are you under a blanket right now? Nope. It’d be nice to be that right now, though. Are you hopeful? Always.

[ievenranthisfar]

72 Needles In Millions of Haystacks // My First 24-Hour Orienteering Race

It’s somewhere around 3:00 in the morning. I’ve been up somewhere around 24 hours. And I’m… somewhere. I just don’t know where.

My partner Sean and I have just descended hundreds feet down a sheer rock face that’s dumped us into a pitch-black forest. Above us, a canopy of ancient pines blocks out the full moon. Below, the trunks of their fallen compatriots and an army of younger ones eager to take their place make our travel directionless and nearly impossible. And amid all this, we’re looking for a small, orange and white triangular flag with nothing more than a dot on the map, a compass, and the vague clue that it was located at a “reentrant.”

Suddenly, there at the bottom of that cliff, swallowed up by the forest, I felt very, very small. And very, very far away from anything. Forget finding the control, I think to myself. What if we can’t ever find our way out of this canyon?

Are we going to die down here?

__

A Little Compass Context

This was my first ever 24-hour rogaine orienteering race. I’d been introduced to orienteering a year and a half ago when my good running buddy Guillaume Calmettes invited me to a local event. He was using to sharpen his navigational skill in prep for his first run at the infamous Barkley Marathons. And he convinced me it was super fun and easy to pick up. He was correct.

In orienteering there are two basic formats. This first one I did was Classic, meaning you get handed a map of the area you’re in with little numbered dots on it. Then, you have to use your compass to find your way as you run from control to control in a pre-determined order as fast as possible. Beginner’s luck. I got second place. Guillaume got first.

The next event we went to the following month, I won.

Our compass skills were admittedly only okay. (Actually, Guillaume’s were fine. Mine, less so.) But having experience and fitness as a runner, helped us immensely. Still, we made plenty of mistakes. This year, I made some huge errors in races. It’s really humbling when it takes you 3:34 to finish a course, and the winner did it in 0:57. The beginner’s luck had run out.

Most orienteering events are relatively short, usually one or two hours long. But it’s incredibly intense. When you’re trying to find 15 different controls as fast as you can, you have your head buried in your map as you’re sprinting through parks, up and down hillsides and rooting through streams to find your controls.

Then Guillaume told me about rogaining. It’s the same thing, except it lasts for 24 hours. 🤯 I’ve run plenty of ultras that last longer than 24 hours, and I’ve done some orienteering races for a few hours, but I didn’t know you could combine the two. It sounded bonkers.

(For the record, the name rogaine comes from a portmanteau of the sport’s founding members’ names. It has zero to do with a fix for male pattern baldness.)

Guillaume and I talked wistfully about one day competing in the World Championship. Then, two months ago, I got a text. The North American Championship was taking place at the Nav-X Challenge in a month, in the Sierra National Forest. The top two teams would go to World. So we signed up.

Lake Shaver, near the course

A few days later, Sean Ranney reached out to Guillaume to see if he could join the fun. If you don’t know who Sean is, he’s an incredibly accomplished runner who holds the Tahoe Rim Trail unsupported FKT. He’s also the creator of a Barkley-style race called Euchre Bar Massacre every October. He’s legit.

Then, with just two weeks to go before Nav-X, Guillaume ran into some problems with his visa and had to return to France the day of the race. Sean and I were incredibly bummed to lose G, but we decided to go on and do the race. “Do it for Guillaume!” we said. “Or to rub it in his face!” We hadn’t decided which.

___

What To Expect When You’re Expecting

So, this is how I find myself waking up in a tent in the middle of the Sierra, waiting to be handed a map that would send me out into the forest on a very wild goose chase.

Camp/a Jeep commercial

Sunset the night before

Full moon over camp

Waiting for Sean to show...

Nine o’clock rolls around. Time to receive our maps. Sean is nowhere to be seen. Nine-thirty. Ten. I look around as other teams scurry to plot their movements and prep their gear for the next 24 hours. Time is running out. Instead of feeling stressed, I’m a little relieved. Maybe I won’t have to do this after all…

Ten-thirty. Sean’s red truck rolls into the dusty campground. I guess we’re doing this.

In a supremely ironic twist of fate, Sean had gotten lost for hours while driving to the starting area. This does not bode well for our future prospects. We exchange quick pleasantries and immediately get down to the business of plotting our moves. The High Sierra sun already beats down on us as we squat over a stump, with our highlighters and sharpies clenched in our hands. It feels oppressive already.

The second type of orienteering is called Score-O. All rogaine races are Score-O. The premise is that there are flagged controls laid out across the course, each assigned a point value based on difficulty to travel to it or find. Rather than racing for the fastest time, everyone has the same amount of time to nab as many controls/points as they can. If you’re skilled enough to get every single control, you’ve “cleared.” It’s a game of strategy. Do you go after more of the easy controls that are closer to the start but are lower value? Or do you try to go out farther and burn time to get higher-value controls further afield?

Looking at our map, we have 72 controls. The possibilities are pretty much endless as to how we can design our run. Hell, the map itself is huge. It’s over two feet tall. I’m just wondering how I’m going to carry this thing in front of me for 24 hours.

Being novices to this whole thing, Sean and I both frantically googled rogaine strategies in the week leading up to the race. Interestingly, it involves office supplies. So on drive way up the previous day, I had found myself in a Staples somewhere in the Valley buying various brightly color writing utensils.

First, we highlight all the high-value controls on the map in yellow. The locations of water drops we highlight in pink. It quickly becomes apparently that the northeast corner of the map has the highest concentration of 60, 70, 80, and 90-point controls, but they’re spread further apart, and the terrain seems to be more forested, meaning navigation and travel will be more difficult. Also, there’s more water. The southern portion of the course has the next highest concentration of points. It seems to be more exposed rock which will be faster nav and travel. No water to speak of though. The northwest sector is denser in the number of controls but they’re lower value.

The correct plan seems fairly obvious (I think). We decide we’ll make a big loop of the northwestern segment first while we’re fresh, it’s hot, and we still have sunlight. Then, we’ll loop back to the hash house (the start/finish area), resupply and head out on our second loop. This loop will take us to the south overnight, where it should theoretically be easiest to navigate and we won’t need much water. Then, we’ll head back to the hash house for another resupply and go out on our third loop to pick off as many easier, lower-point controls as we can before noon tomorrow.

(One thing to factor into strategy is the penalty for finishing late. In this case, we’d lose 10 points for every minute past 24 hours that we’re out of the course. So you also want to plan the end of your race to have points where you can call audibles towards the end.)

Marking up the map

With our basic game plan laid out, we quickly start penciling in lines of travel from control to control. Again, more strategy. This time we’re trying to make each move the shortest possible while also hitting every control and simultaneously avoiding any overly difficult moves due to a giant mountain between them, dense forest, whatever.

We check our watches. It’s just a few minutes before the noon start. We quickly draw over our lines in sharpie, shrugging to each other occasionally. “I guess this seems good, right?” “Yeah. It all feels easy right now at least.”

Slipshod plan formatted, we hurriedly stuff all our gear, clothes and food into our packs. Because, oh yeah, since you’re going to be out in the wilderness on your own pretty much the whole race, you need to carry everything with you too.

Ready to roll

Still cramming stuff in our vests, we amble up to the starting area. We are, as usual, the outliers. Like any sport, orienteering has its own mores, particularly when it comes to fashion. Pants to protect the legs while crashing through underbrush. Long-sleeved shirts to deal with fluctuating temperatures. Protective hats to block hours of sun exposure. Calf-high gaiters to keep shoes free from any debris. Big packs to carry a day’s worth of supplies. Hiking-style shoes to cover the harsh terrain. We have none of this.

No, Sean and I stand there in our bright, little running shorts. Thin, polyester shirts. Tiny packs. We have so much skin exposed, I’m sure the other races are wondering if we’ll die of exposure or blood loss first.

It’s also worth noting that Sean and I are on the young end of the age spectrum. By a lot. Looking around, the average age seems to be hovering around 55. Orienteering, for whatever reason, tends to attract a much older crowd. I suppose it’s because it’s a thinkers’ sport. As I’ve learned time and time again, a great navigator who can move slowly but efficiently can crush a fast runner who’s shitty at navigation. Skill and experience levels the playing field immensely.

It’s 11:59. Our big adventure begins soon. The race directors herd us into the starting corral and offer a few final tidbits of intel and advice. And then, it’s, “OK… go!”

“Here goes nothing…” I mutter to Sean.

___

Noob Troop Loop

Orienteering starts are funny. Because each team has chosen a different one of the millions of possible permutations of routes, everyone scatters off in totally different directions immediately.

Sean and I bound out of the campground and down the main dirt road to the first bend, where we stop and consult our maps. We line up our compasses and shoot a bearing to the east-southeast, where our first control, 307, will supposedly be. Flipping over the map, I read the description of 307 off the chart. It simply says, “Broad saddle.” We peel off and quickly find ourselves climbing up a steep hill, dodging underbrush as best as we can. Soon enough, we top out. The saddle. But where is the control? We run a few hundred feet to the right, nothing. So we backtrack and try the left. Soon, “There it is!” We see the orange and white dangling from a tree branch. We quickly insert our e-sticks (basically USB sticks attached to our hands) to record our presence and then immediately consult the map again.

Moving from the hash house (pink) to 307 to 405

Control 405. To the east-northeast, maybe half a mile away. Rather than shoot straight there, we see that there’s a road between it and us. The road connects to another road that travels within about a tenth of a mile to it. And near there, there’s a junction with a trail. So, we can travel expeditiously via road, then shoot our bearing off the trail junction so we know exactly where we are and the exact angle we have to travel to reach 405, labeled “Marsh, S end.” Or at least that’s the idea.

We make our way to the road, turn on the second road, and fairly quickly find the junction. From there, we shoot the bearing and sprint off, back into the woods. Soon enough, we find a marsh and start scanning the area. Nothing. We move along the edge, trying to stay on the south side. But as the control continues to remain elusive, we begin just running around aimlessly hoping to bump into it. Ten minutes go by. “Where the hell is this thing?” “We’re definitely at the south end of the marsh… right?”

Finally, I pull my head out of the moment. “Stop. Let’s look at the map.” That’s when I notice that the marsh isn’t just one big strip; it has a bend into it, breaking the marsh into two distinct sections. “What if we’re in this part of the marsh, not over here?” Lightbulb. We’d overshot the bearing just enough that we’d landed ourselves in the smaller, adjacent part of the marsh. We turn 180 degrees and crashed through more underbrush until, there it was. The other part of the marsh. We sprint down its south face, and sure enough, the control comes into view. Ah, I’m starting to see how this is going to go…

We dip our e-sticks and I look down at my watch. 12:40. Two controls in 40 minutes. “Spot on pace!” I announce naively but also fully aware that it’s it’s naive. With 72 controls, to clear the course, we’ll need to find a control every 20 minutes for 24 hours straight. Two things: 1) That is an insane pace, and 2) it means we can make zero mistakes, like, ever.

So, time to get going. We consult the map again. Our next objective is 706, labeled “Reentrant.” We check our compasses and take off.

For the next hour or so, we’re cranking along nicely. Our control-every-20-minutes pace holds up. At 300 (“Broad terrace, N end”), I pull my head out of the map for a moment. It’s been two hours since we’ve started. “Holy shit. I feel like I’ve been out here with you all day,” I tell Sean.

There is no down-time in orienteering. No time to turn your brain off. No time even to eat or drink really. Your head’s always buried in your map, staring off the end of your compass, or scanning your surroundings, hoping to catch a glimmer of orange out of the corner of your eye. And as soon as you do and you’ve tag the control, your heads right back at it again. Oh, and you’re also running or hiking fully cross-country, hopping over logs, running down bare rock faces, hopping over talus fields, or breaking through underbrush, trying not to fall on your face.

Remember that thing you tried to do when you were little where you’d try to pat your head and rub your belly. It’s sort of like that except you’re also juggling a soccer ball, reciting pi to the 100th decimal, cooking an omelet, and doing your taxes.

___

Needle In A Haystack

The afternoon goes off relatively without much of a hitch. We trudge up hillsides, take shortcuts on logging roads that are nowhere to be seen on the map, skip across waterlogged marshes, cross long talus fields, and refill our bottles in cold, mountain-fed streams. Most importantly, we’re picking off controls here and there with only occasional difficulty. I actually can’t believe how well we’re moving. Honestly, I came into the race feeling only OK about my compass skills. But with the repetition of doing it over and over and over, hour after hour after hour, I’m starting feel cautiously confident.

Additionally, Sean and I have a very complementary partnership emerging. Ying and yang. He seems to be better with the compass and traveling over large distances to the general area of a control. Once there, I tend to be better at reading the immediate terrain and spotting the controls at a distance. (“LASIK!” I tell him. “The best money I’ve ever spent!”) And when one of us falters in his unspoken area of expertise, the other picks up the slack and the roles reverse. I’m really liking our chances.

Our entire northern loop

Eventually, we reach the very far northwestern corner of the map. 830, “Bare rock, W foot.” We sight ourselves off a massive wall of bare rock rising almost a thousand feet to our right. We’re almost surrounded by it in fact. I suddenly start to feel a quiet terror. It’s a cross between claustrophobia and helplessness. I realize just how far away we are from everyone and everything. Civilization. Safety. And any sense of origin. It’s like riding in an airplane and suddenly thinking about the fact that you’re 30,000 feet above the Earth in a metal tube. We round a giant grouping of boulders and thankfully spot the control. Mercifully, the feeling washes away in our excitement.

We make a few more moves. We shoot a bearing from 631 (“Stream”) to 821 (“Marsh, partially treed, SW part”). The move feels fairly complicated on the map. In practice, it’s even worse. But after 25 minutes or so, we find ourselves in the general area where we think we’re supposed to be. Except, we have no idea where we actually are. Or where the marsh is. Instead, we’re on a steep, loose hillside, chockful of deadfall and chaparral. This looks nothing like a marsh. This looks like the opposite of a marsh. Sean, sure he knows where we are, shoots off up the hillside. I follow him but only half-heartedly, feeling like he’s going the wrong way. My head starts to spin. The airplane feeling comes on again.

Five minutes later. “Stop! Let’s look at the map and see where we think we are,” I implore. “I think we’re here,” Sean points with the corner of his compass. I’m not sure how he arrived at that conclusion. But, scanning the dense canopy of trees enveloping us, I have no better counter. “I think we need to go back up here,” he points. I’m at a loss so I shrug and say sure.

We fumble around for another 15-20 minutes. Then I hear Sean shout, “Found the marsh!” “You glorious son of a bitch!” I exclaim and sprint towards the sound of his voice. Sure enough, he’s located a marsh perched on a shelf on the hillside. In my excitement, I try to hop over a huge trunk, but my shoe catches a piece of bark and I ragdoll. Flipping forward, I slam into the marsh, bent at a 90-degree angle the wrong way. “Shit! Shitshitshitshitshiiiit.” I follow up with, “I’m OK!” I look down at my knee, and it’s bright red. Blood oozes down, soaking my sock below. I pop up, more embarrassed than hurt. “You alright, man?” Sean asks. I look down at my leg, wet with blood. “Yeah, the flies are just going to have a little feast,” I grin.

After all this, we can’t even find the control. We flail a bit more until we realize there are in fact several marshes on this hillside. None seem to actually be on the map. We make our way from one to another, until we finally find our “treed marsh” and the control. Finally.

After spending the last four hours totally off-trail in the middle of the wilderness, our next line of travel bisects a trail and then turns into a logging road. We make it there, and it feels surprisingly wonderful to be swaddled in civilization again. And good thing too, because night is falling fast.

We have a half dozen more controls to get us back to the hash house, but most all are near roads or trails so we cruise through them without incident. The only snafu comes on the very final control, a quarter mile from the campground. 201 (“Stream junction”). At 20 points, it should be uber easy. But somehow we find ourselves going up and down a dry stream bed, back and forth, looking for a non-existent control. Something is clearly wrong, but we can’t work it out. We both get frustrated. I rise the idea of just cutting bait—it’s only 20 points after all—and heading home. But Sean’s stubbornness is quickly joined by my own, and we refuse to give up. I know this is a poor use of our time, but I know how angry I’ll be with myself tomorrow if we don’t get every control we try for. The moment of frustration forces us to pause and regroup. Sean looks at the map and, in his amazing wisdom that I still don’t understand, decides that we must be in the wrong stream. Looking at the map, I’m not sure that we could be in any other stream. But absent a better idea, I go with it. Five minutes later and back on the road, we spot our correct stream. We instantly feel foolish. Five minutes more of fighting vegetation along the stream bed and we find the control. A short jog later and we’re back at the hash house.

It feels good to be back amongst people and lights and manmade objects. The timing tent is playing some Zeppelin, and the RD offers me soup. I greedily accept. I see a full bottle of Mrs. Butterworth syrup sitting on a table and say, “Oh. Are you guys making pancakes later?” The RD stares at me and just says, “No.” “Uh… OK.”

It’s 9:30. We tell the few people lounging around where we’ve been, and they seem impressed. It feels good; we must be doing something right. We’re a third of our way through the course, which is great. But it also means clearing the course is out of the question. No mind.

I jog back to my Jeep, grab a fresh battery pack for my headlight and shove more gels, turkey sandwiches and formerly-frozen burritos into my pack. Ready to roll. We know night will be trying, but we just don’t know how much.

___

Descent Into Darkness

Time to begin our southern loop. Drier, opener, faster (supposedly). We pop out on the road and look for the second path junction to the left. According to the map, it should come very quickly. But it doesn’t. Or it does. We can’t tell. There are so many Jeep trails and turn-offs, it’s hard for us to know which is the correct one. We choose one that seems right. But the trail isn’t bearing in the direction it is on the map. Still we follow it. Dumb. We’re going uphill now. This seems very wrong. It’s supposed to be flat. Still we follow it. Finally we both agree it’s wrong. Duh. We head back down to the road. For some reason we think the trail must be farther away from camp so we head out. We take other side trails momentarily before deciding they’re wrong. We probably run at least a mile from camp. At some point, a pickup comes rumbling down the dirt road keeping up dust in our headlamps. “Oh hey guys! Is that Andy and Sean?” Through the floating dust and the stupor in my head, I can’t really make out who it is. After a few moments, I dawns on me that it’s one of the RDs. Sean explains to him what we are—or aren’t—doing. “These roads are all fucked up, man. Just get to a control and shoot straight lines from there,” he offers as advice. As the pickup chugs off, I say to Sean, “Well no shit. That’s what we’re trying to do.” But he’s right. The area is so heavily used we can’t trust the map or anything we see. So what do we do?

We fumble around for another 20 minutes or so before we finally identify a set of cliffs off to our right. On the map, we see a symbol for cliffs. We’ve finally located ourselves. PHEW. And we’re right by a control. We shoot a bearing and head off towards 202 (“Marsh, just N of N tip”). And we find it! We curse, we laugh, we howl. But we’ve found it. And we burned 70 minutes doing it. For 20 points. Just a quarter mile from the starting line. Woof.

With a new understanding of where we are, we shoot a bearing and head off into the wilderness once more.

Earlier that afternoon I had said, “How the hell are we supposed to do this in the dark?” Now that it was dark… yeah. “Flying blind” does not begin to accurately describe what we’re doing. We just take a bearing, point ourselves in a direction and pray that we end up there. And our “easier, rockier” loop is nowhere to be seen. It’s all dense forests with zero visibility. (Fun fact! Almost all 24-hour rogaines are held as close to full moons as possible!) The one advantage the night provides is that the controls have pieces of reflective tape on them. So, if you’re scanning your surroundings, your headlight might at least catch a glimmer coming off the tape. This proved appreciably helpful in spotting controls at a great distance, ones that we probably wouldn’t have caught in daylight.

But still, it’s just really fucking hard.

After we grab a few controls, we head towards a big section of cliffs. It looks cool on the map. It looks cooler in person. We claw our way up a sheer rock face onto what turns out to be a massive, smooth granite ridge, rising hundreds of feet above the surrounding valley. We find 902 (“Spur/bare rock, access from N or S”) rather easily. There’s nothing else up there besides the control attached to a lone tree clinging stubbornly to the rock. We register our e-sticks and then sit down for a minute.

“Wow. It’s really beautiful out here.” In the full moon, we can finally see the world around us. It’s a symphony of rock and wood and water lit by the pale glow of a giant rock floating in the sky reflecting sunlight from millions of miles away. For a minute, inside all the madness, the world is perfect.

“Dude. I’m going to eat my fucking burrito,” I exclaim. I throw my pack off and dig in, finding the now-nearly-warm bean and cheese burrito that had been sitting in the bottom for 12 hours now. I bite into it and immediately start moaning. “I can feel the endorphins firing in my brain,” I gush to Sean. He laughs politely. I’m in heaven.

A few minutes later, we say goodbye to the view, take our bearings and head down off the cliffs. Rather than change back to forest, the ground beneath our feet stays sandy and open. “Finally!” I shout. “The rocky loop we were promised.” Feeling in high spirits, we cruise downhill towards 506 (“Reetrant”). At only 50 points, this one should be no problem… Right?

Forty-five minutes later, Sean and I are just flabbergasted. I’ve run out of curse words. I’m empty. I’m fully defeated. We’ve run up and down this damn stream so long looking for a junction to shoot a bearing from that I don’t even know what my name is anymore. We’re flailing. Several times, I fully lose the thread. I look down at my map, and it’s gibberish. I forget which control we’re looking for. I start trying telling Sean he’s wrong, as I’m looking at a totally different part of the map. I don’t know what we’re doing anymore.

We sweep the forest back and forth, a few dozen feet from the stream and a few dozen feet apart from each other, hoping to catch the glint of reflective tape in our headlamps. But the battery on my light is dying and has automatically dimmed itself. Even if the control is out here, I probably won’t see it. If was more coherent I’d be upset. Instead I’m just apathetic.

Somehow, we decide to sweep in the opposite direction, way downstream, which feel very wrong to us, but at this point, it’s the only thing we haven’t done. Running—mostly out of desperation—we drop into a deep forest and begin thrashing around in the undergrowth when suddenly, “Holy shit! I’ve got it!” We find it. I have no idea how that control relates to what we were looking for, but I don’t care. Desperation gives way to a rush of relief.

Here’s what it looked like on Strava. Woof.

Later, as we’re following our next bearing, Sean and I both admit to each other that we thought about suggesting we just bail on the control. But then we both realized we couldn’t.

And here’s the true challenge of rogaine. Ninety percent of the time you can’t just skip a control that’s hard to find. Because if you don’t know where the control is, then you don’t know here you are either. And if you don’t know where you are, you don’t where we’re you’re going next. So, you’re forced to find the control, even if it feels impossible, because it’s your own way out alive.

The rest of the night continues on, eventfully and uneventfully. Ironically, we seem to have the most difficulty finding the lowest-point controls while the high-value controls are relatively easy to locate. We joke about it. It’s funny. I think.

Features like “clearing” and “reentrant” continue to be the bane of my existence. What constitutes one clearing over another clearing? What the actual fuck is a reentrant anyway?

We flail in the dark some more.

We drop down a rock face to a deep dark forest where I think we’re going to die. Somehow, by sheer miracle, I get the sense that the control is much farther north than we think it is, and we sweep the edge of the forest. Four minutes later, I catch the gleam of reflective tape in my headlamp.

Another time, Sean and I are a bajillion miles away from anywhere we think we know. We’ve been running across a series of gullies towards 907 (another fucking “reentrant”). We’ve run ourselves down deep into the folds of a hillside. We’re surrounded by rocks and more rocks. We have no idea where in the world we possibly are. And then all of a sudden Sean shouts, “I see it!” There it is, two hundred feet above us. Another miracle.

The night goes on, until dawn slowly yawns on the horizon. I realize I feel better than I’ve ever felt in ant 100-miler at this point. We’ve covering a lot of ground, and it’s more full-body, but I’m not gutting myself to do it. And the necessity of focus actually makes me feel sharp. Then I realize I’ve only eaten a few hundred calories all night. I check my water bottles. Oh yeah. I’ve only drank about 20 oz of water in the last 12 hours too.

No mind. The sun comes up and navigation becomes easier again. Weirdly, I miss the reflective tape. You can’t have it all.

The next control is 623. I read the description: “Pool at base of 8m water (no access from NW).”  “Oooh! That sounds delightful,” I say. We find it. It is delightful. Just as the sun has risen, we find ourselves in the midst of a smooth, rocky gully with a gently roaring waterfall surrounded by glimmering pools of cool water. “I’m really glad we did this one,” I say out loud, instantly feeling like we’re an old, married couple.

Five minutes later, I’m blowing my ass out behind a bush.

Three controls away from finishing our second loop, we hit another snafu. We burn what feels like an hour wandering aimlessly through the forest. It’s 503 (another fucking “reentrant”). It should be easy. It’s not. I shout at Sean to stop and let’s think this thing out. We orient ourselves off a giant wall to the north of us and try to think our way out of this thing. Ten minutes later, I start shouting “Hallelujah!” as the world around us is finally matching up with the world on our maps. We split up and two minutes later I shout, “Holy shit I found it!” Seriously, what is a reentrant anyway??

An hour later, we’re back at the hash house. It’s around 9:00 in the morning. The first loop took us 9.5 hours. The second one took 11.5. Clearing the map is waaaay out of the question. But as we’re milling around the food tent, we still feel plenty good. Sean and I both make a beeline for the industrial-sized can of cocktail fruit and spoon the syrup and processed pineapple into our cups and guzzle it whole. It’s heavenly.

Also, fruitcake FTW.

___

Victory Lap?

We’re closing in on two hours left. It’s getting hot again. I know Sean wants to quit. He knows I want to quit. I know he knows that I want to quit. He knows that I know that he wants to quit. But instead, we make plans to head out on our final, truncated loop. We’ll pick off a few controls that are nearby with enough time to return before noon. (Good rogaine strategy! I feel proud.)

Sean looks a little rough. I didn’t eat many calories overnight, but he ran out. Nonetheless, all night, he’d pushed the pace on hills, leaving me in the dust. I’ve been perkier on the roads and had to pull him a bit. Basically, we’re both beat. We don’t want to admit it to the other person. It’s funny that we only met about 24 hours ago.

“We leave by 22,” we agree. Translation: 10:00am. We’ll have two hours to complete our mini-loop of four controls. It’ll only be 130 points total, but it’s more to prove to ourselves that we refuse to quit. At 10:00am precisely, we meet by the port-a-potties.

In my mind, this mini-loop is a victory lap. We find the first control with ease. The second with ease. The third with ease. The fourth one pretends to be difficult but soon we wrangle it in. With most of the course under our belts and 45 minutes left, we head back home.

At the hash house, we jam our e-sticks in the control labeled “FINISH” and give each other a series of handshakes, fist-bumps and hugs. We did it.

___

“That’s A Good Thing”

When we put our e-sticks into the download terminal—basically the thing that receives all those timestamps when we punched the different controls—the printer immediately spit out a long receipt-looking thing. “Wow. That’s long. That’s a good thing,” says the volunteer working the computer.

I look at my receipt. It says we have 2,900 points. I look over at the timekeeper’s screen, and the top number of points I see from other teams is 2,630. Whoa. We might have won.

We did all that. Sheesh.

There’s still twenty minutes left—it’s 11:40am—so there’s a good chance another team could still come in and kick our asses.

Fifty minutes later we’re standing at the awards ceremony. I’m cracked out my mind. I’m dirty. Sticky. Tired. Blood-shot-eyes-y. But eventually the RD announces, “Male team, open… with 2,900 points… wow, that’s almost the whole map… Pacific Mountain Runners, Andy Pearson and Sean Ranney!”

Beginner’s luck again. We’re the North American Champions.

The best part about orienteering is how quaint it is. (And I don’t use that word pejoratively.) This award ceremony is only a few dozen people huddled around an awning trying to stay out of the sun. The awards come in dozens of flavors, across every possible permutation of age and gender divisions imaginable. And the awards themselves? A certificate declaring “2019 North American Rogaine Champion” with the name section blank—RD: “You can write your own name in” —and your choice from a variety of chocolates. As far as I can tell chocolate is the belt buckle of orienteering. The adventure has been so epic, and the reward so unassuming, it feels perfect.

What winning feels like.

What winning tastes like.

___

The Venn Diagram

Reflecting back, I’m both proud of and humbled by what we did. The experience taught me more in 24 hours than I think I’ve ever learned. From geology to map-reading to problem-solving to ultrarunning to 500 other things, orienteering requires everything from you. But it’s a constant education too.

I love ultrarunning deeply. It speaks to a deep physical and spiritual part of human existence. But orienteering adds the mental aspect as well. You have to always be on.

We ended up moving more than 60 miles in 24 hours, with probably 90-95% of that being off-trail. (Full Strava details here.) During the race, I joked with Sean that the Venn diagram of people who would actually do this is so incredibly small. You have to possess the ability to run/hike at ultramarathon distances while also calling on a deep reservoir of navigational and outdoor experience. (Or in my case, just faking it.)

___

Not The End

If any of this sounds at least mildly interesting to you, I’d encourage you to look up orienteering clubs in your city. Almost all cities have one. In LA, ours is the LAOC. They have monthly events that are usually just an hour or two in length, and they’re a great way to try your hand at it. (Also, a fun family activity for kids!) Learning these kinds of map and compass skill is deeply rewarding and can add all kinds of new dimensions to your appreciation of the outdoors.

Basically, try it! And if you have questions or want some tips, let me know. I’m happy to help.

In the end, more than being proud of what we did, I’m proud of what we learned. And I can’t wait to hack our way through the Rogaine World Championship in Lake Tahoe next August. I just hope there won’t be any fucking reentrants.

[delacruzlynn]

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[sugar-petals]

Hi , would you be willing to do a merman jungkook x reader smut ?

Sublime (M)

summary | only you can save him.length | 5.4k | smut, angst, actionexpansion from | BTS as mermen AU drabblewarnings | themes of persecution, unprotected sex, graphic.

PART TWO | PART THREE | masterlist

There’s a dead body on your private beach.

Or so you think. You’ve spotted it going out for your early morning walk with a bottle of water and light trainers. Busan’s late summer has been merciful with the weather so far, so you wanted to tick your two-mile goal on the schedule again. 

From afar you already knew that whatever laid there in the silt was nothing of the regular. The colors that struck you against the mellow rising sun seemed blueish, strangely vivid. If it was a water corpse, sure it could be decaying like this. You dare to tread closer, crossing into muddier seafloor now. 

Normally, you preferred to stay where the sand was dry and solid to walk on. There is no foul smell as you approach, or scraps of cloth, anything like that. Just algae all around. A few feet away, you begin to understand: This is not a human body. 

You’ve heard about sightings of stranded mermen in the news. Authorities were quick to dismiss rumors of violent interventions. They assured that the police would take care of the situation professionally without citizen being able to watch. 

The senior locals thought of merpeople as threats or oddities of nature, too peculiar to interact with. There were stories about women who interacted closely getting abducted, bitten, or strangled to death by such creatures. It was treated like a myth while the tabloids and fisherman’s accounts said otherwise.

Mermen were usually described with distorted complexions, crooked bones, and blood-shot eyes. They stink abominably, one reporter said. The universal instruction by the mayor had been equally hideous: Kill, or run. The latter being less preferred because they had to be chased, exploited, and wiped out collectively when you read between the lines. 

Last year, there had been gossip about a group of men - designated hunters - sawing off a living merman’s tail and selling it on the black market. Any chopped off hair would bring half a million, too. A million with the scalp attached. The mayor propagated the extermination of these “slimy beasts” when an issue surfaced, all while keeping a trophy fin in his living room, that you were sure of.  

But the motionless boy right below you does not appear monstrous at all. His features are almost resemblant to what can be considered human despite that he came from the sea. The upper body, at least. Who knows what kind of world is out there. The contrived stories made you mad, they had been all lies. 

Even if your trainers are now completely sunk in, you close the distance entirely.

You look at him with concern. Why is he here, like this, so close to the coast? Your eyes roam up and down, up and down. The cerulean little scales splattered all over his large tail, the sapphire beads around his neck, next to coral lobster claws. 

His beauty erases everything in your mind. The teal and silver mane that falls in soft waves and purple braids. They are really, really long and gleaming with an enigma that you fail to grasp. How could anyone be cruel enough to maim him. Everything about this boy had to stay wherever it was. 

You inspect his body closer to look for injuries, but there are none. He plainly seems drained, but impossibly beautiful at the same time. His chest is still moving, but both eyes remained closed. You don’t know if mermen can get unconscious. 

Perhaps he is just asleep. So ethereal. It all proved the envious locals very dirty liars. They’re conspiring because they know very well how alluring they look like. Since only mermen have been spotted, all efforts to deter every woman in town from getting just one glimpse were rampant. 

No human male could quite compare. Except maybe your gay friend and neighbor Taehyung who might just drop dead if he were here. If your female friends saw this boy, the ones who were married would file for divorce. The truly despicable vermin were the conservative men of this town. 

Certainly, there are different rules of anatomy and physics that apply to mermen that nobody has ever talked about on shore. You only see that the gills at the sides of his torso flutter hectically. It takes some time until you put two and two together. The falling tide that’s now miles away, it must have left him here. Maybe he lost a sense of direction and got caught by surprise. What an odyssey. 

He needs water, desperately. Of course he looks drained, and that’s more urgent than you assumed. You have to hurry up and do something not to see him fade away in front of your eyes. But, where to get it. It would have been straightforward if you hadn’t forgotten carrying a water bottle all along. 

You’re hesitant to touch him, but eventually get yourself to rub the sides of his torso, pouring water bit by bit. His skin is so delicate that you don’t dare to apply pressure. His eyes flutter once, and you think he can see what you are doing. 

But you did not bring enough water to sustain this moment. At least you know there’s still a chance.

There’s no other option, then. You sprint back to your house, pulse working overtime until you find the long-ignored supply closet key. 

An old plastic cover splattered with color comes into sight. It has been formerly used by Taehyung who asked to depict the scenery at your beach. He’s a painter, but too much of a literal fine artist to leave anything sturdy at your house. You keep searching. 

At the back, there’s a soiled, but still functional sailcloth with rope running through its eyelets. Hauling that to the beach would not be possible if you weren’t pumped with adrenaline and sheer panic. It has been a huge risk having him left alone out there. This all takes too damn long.

The relief finding him untouched gives you more assurance. The sail sticks to the ground in no time spreading it out next to him. An attempt to roll him onto there using a shove of two hands fails. Only a rope tied around his waist gives everything a decent impetus. Once he’s in place, you pull the canvas tight with the rope and start dragging. But oh my, is he heavy. It’s the colossal tail that probably weighs the most, gravity has no mercy on your arms today. 

It takes a few painstaking feet until the cloth starts to run smoothly on the wet ground. Through the dewy lawn of your property, it works much better until your trainers go on a strike. Next time you’ll go to the beach with heavy boots. It’s better with bare feet then, though you encounter another problem. The grass isn’t particularly even, so you have to maneuver around a bump or two. The 10 x 20 feet swimming pool comes into sight quite tardily.

He slumps into the water with a dull splash. You made it by the skin of your teeth and everything hurts. It’s a miracle. The water is uncomfortably icy as you enter, grabbing hold of his shoulders. You have to remind yourself to be careful, washing away all remnants of sand and dirt. The filtration system will take care of it. Again you note how silky the texture of his skin and scales is, clearly not made for life ashore. Before the water starts to paralyze you more with its frostiness, you decide to submerge him completely at the bottom of the pool. Different laws of physics, you remind yourself. For a human, air would basically be like water for him. His own weight sustains him down there well as of now. Begrudgingly, you leave to change clothes.

It’s good that your backyard is surrounded by copious palisades. You do hope nobody observed anything, thinking you transported some carcass or worse, and check back just three minutes later. The garden gate is firmly locked already but doesn’t do much to pacify your feelings of imminent paranoia. So the balcony is a good place to stay where you can sit with your laptop to catch up with pressing work. Any concentration is still out the window though, and any noise snaps you out of typing in emails. 

The pool water rouses after the nearby church bell strikes 11 am. You return to the gazebo next to the pool to look if you’re not hallucinating, met with huge, dark eyes. They’re Prussian blue and almost doe-like. He’s leaning at the edge, two arms propped up.

“Thank you, madam. You didn’t have to do this,” he dabbles quite gently, stirring the water with his tail to cause ripples. His voice is very pleasant and friendly, youthful. Never did you think he would be able to speak your language. Everything comes unexpected today.

“Nevermind,” you respond, trying not to show both incredulousness and unease. There is no way in making this sound like a proper conversation, but you try. He called you madam, after all. 

”I came to pry for shells and lost my sense of time. It’s my bad.”

You squat down at the edge of the pool at some distance. This seems all too much at once. Yet you have to gather words to let him know.

“Don’t, don’t say that. I can’t let you die out there. To see you become food in a tin can if a hunter or the police come along.”

It strikes a chord with him, and you instantly regret saying it.

“I know who they are. Their prejudice has killed one of my brothers not long ago.” He’s downcast now, impossibly sad. You know who this brother was. A little glistening tear makes its way down his cheek, he picks it up with thumb and index finger. It has turned into a small pearl. “You’re not like them. I can be glad you picked me up without fear or reporting it.” 

You enclose the shiny gift with two palms as he passes over the bead. When you tuck it away, it rests in the breast pocket of your blouse. The merman looks very relieved to see you accept it.

“It’s not over yet. But I guess I did the right things so far. You’re alive. I hope I can drag you back at high tide. Or do you need more time?”

“My body regenerated. But my mind, I feel very strange and dizzy, still. Tomorrow.”

“Shit… it’s the chlorine in the water. I don’t think that’s good for you.”

“Chlorine?”

You wonder why he speaks your language perfectly but doesn’t know this.

“To disinfect bacteria dangerous to humans. For you, it might just be nauseating. Maybe because you’re not used to it, or sensitive. Wait, I’ll use the pool filter. I have one.” 

While you take care of the pump and also clean away some debris, the curious merman lingers closely. 

“Did I tell you my name yet? I’m Jungkook. I have a question, actually. It might sound weird.”

You look up from your task. Jungkook. It’s fitting.

“Just go ahead. I’m Y/N.”

“Why do you have a pool next to the sea?”

He’s a bright guy. You understand where the query is coming from, too.

“I do love the sea like you. But the waves are too high. It’s dangerous to bathe there without a vigilant eye. You’ve seen what happened. I prefer to swim here, especially when it’s warmer.”

“Oh, I forgot,” he marvels at you, “humans can’t swim that well in the cold.”

“It’s true. We have trouble moving around mermen as well,” you chuckle, glad your work at the pump is completed. You stand up to return to Jungkook. His presence is soothing, almost familiar. 

In that very moment, hasty knocks and rattles resound from the garden gate.

Jungkook immerses himself in water within a split second. He’s diving down faster than you can say anything, in fact. The pool’s surrounding bushes have saved you from being seen with him, thankfully, but your feeling tells you to hurry to the gate as soon as you can. But you have to stop yourself from being in a rush not to be suspicious. It’s painfully obvious who it is from a distance already. You’re in trouble. 

It’s Taehyung.

“Oh hey, hey! I rang the doorbell — nobody responded. Figured you’re here! How ya doin’?”

A hurricane as usual. You keep the gate locked. He’s looking at you through the metal bars with inquisitive eyes.

“What do you want, Kim… I’m busy.”

“Sorry, just looking for my painting cover. Do you still have it? Am gone in a minute.”

“Sure.” 

You spin around and race inside without further ado. Taehyung must think you have gone completely mad now, but knowing Jungkook is likely having a heart attack down there you would waste no second. You return breathless, red blotches all over the face. He rolls his eyes.

“Slow down, slow down, Noona. It’s Sunday. God, heterosexual people. Always caught in such a fuss.”

“They are. Now, here. Take it. Just, buzz off now, Kim. Got things to do.” 

And again, you spin around on your heel and hear him trot away sulking, but clenching his long-lost cover tight. He said he’s gone in a minute, then he has to deal with it. You’ll have to come up with something very intricate to appease him next time when he mocks you for it. And you are sure he will, because Taehyung notices when something’s off. Telling him the truth would be like being Taylor Swift’s boyfriend, he would just broadcast everything.

You dash back and lean over the pool for Jungkook to recognize you. But nothing moves. He’s right about staying where he is. If the police coerced you to be their decoy, luring him out, he’d be dead. Jungkook, that is indisputable to you, continues to prove being very sharp save being aware of tides. The media never talked about merpeople being this people-conscious and easily intimidated. They’re just drawing them as evil to get hunting permission. Vicious pigs. 

You want to make them fall. 

There’s something else that strikes you, watching for activity in the pool. There must be a way that merpeople gather excessive knowledge about humans. Or it might be a contact person. But you don’t want to know, it might be a way to trace them back. Such a secret must never be revealed, you know you’ll take all this to your grave to protect him. It would be good to tell your story to everyone so they would change their mind. But the police was hawk-eyed and knew how to press for information. 

They’d be hellbent and relentless to slit his throat as soon as they could. Officials and hunters had methods to find him if it was not too far out in the ocean. Or they would just wait until he came back to you sooner or later. You are sure that he will. He’s feeling indebted. And attached. You’re too. You dread the day, and tomorrow’s goodbye if it actually comes. 

You have to admit it: This propelled you into a gigantic mess. You already felt your heart burst when Taehyung knocked. You have to guard Jungkook from a greater fuck-up, come what may. 

With the entire government of Busan or even Seoul against you when your secret ever goes public. Because they want to keep it on the low, too, and would stop at nothing. You did not go against the law but social customs and conservative morale, and those are by far more powerful. 

You rip off your blouse and pants and toss them on the balcony. Your tank top is hardly suitable for the temperature, but the pool water is slightly warmer as you get in slowly. The chlorine has faded. The first good news for today.

Diving down, Jungkook appears curled up in the deepest, darkest corner, holding his hair together so it won’t float up and betray him. Most of the fright on his face dissolves when you give an intent thumbs up. These mermen understand so much about your culture. You cannot let go of this thought. How could he know?

Swimming closer, you seize him by the hands, nodding your head toward the surface. He pulls you up with ease, fast and agile. Emerging, you have to draw several breaths. He looks around frantically. You hope this didn’t traumatize him.  

“It was my neighbour friend asking for art supplies. He left and didn’t see anything. Nobody else around. We’re good. Jungkook, it’s alright. It was just a friend.”

It’s Sunday, thankfully.

“I was so afraid… There was a vision, I was bleeding!”

“It’s okay now. There’s no blood. I protect you, nothing will happen.”

It’s of no use. He can’t stop looking around. Jungkook needs something to ground him. 

A little kiss on the forehead. 

It makes his cheeks turn cobalt blue. You feel how his tail sways back and forth a bit quicker. You part your legs wider so they won’t crush his fin in between. 

“I will handle it. If I can pull you out of the mud, then I can subdue them when they ever show up. You just have to hide. Jungkook.”

It’s self-persuasion and hoping for a self-fulfilling prophecy. But you’re beaming at him, and his smile grows just as large.

“Y/N, you’re very strong. I wouldn’t know where I’d be without your help. You hardly knew me, just my kin.” 

“So did you. But you didn’t freak out when you were awake.”

He nods emphatically.

“I felt your hands on my gills. It was very nice. Like waves. I knew you were benevolent, you resemble the sea when you move. No bad person does this. Can you… again? Only if you want, I—”

What he said stuns you for seconds. Your hands move to his upper body on autopilot. 

“Like, like this?”

Jungkook sighs a mellowed yes when you start to stimulate his sides. His gills are much more relaxed than at the beach. After some strokes, you’re leaning in so much that his arms virtually just have to close an inch around you for an embrace. 

He clings to you in a tight hug, your lips coming up to meet his. Whatever magic or trick he is using, they feel curiously sparkling and slightly saline after a while. It’s magnificent. Meanwhile, your breasts are squeezed flat against his chest, feeling how Jungkook’s heartbeat accelerates. Much like his fin that’s bringing more of his tail between your legs. You pull them upwards a bit, but inevitably he brushes against your pubes. You thought it would be awkward. But something about his body infatuates your skin like an ancient charm. 

“Apologies Y/N, I didn’t mean to!”

“Don’t be sorry. Just, fuck… do it again. Feels awesome. You can be yourself with me.”

He understands, bringing his tail stark forward this time. Shit. Your clit says yes to that. So does your face judging by how he reacts, a lot keener than before.  

“Jungkook, I have a weird question, too,” you brush back against him, “Is it possible, I mean. Can you penetrate me somehow, or…?”

He’s blushing a second time.

“I can peel the scales apart at the front.”

And he does it. 

Oh wow.

He has the most gorgeous shaft you’ve ever seen. Clad in lustrous, thin scales sprouts forth a splendid length tinted in jade. It sojourns hard and upright, poking heavy at your clit and entrance only separated by your underwear. 

“You can’t impregnate me, right?”

“I can’t. Human egg cells are too small and not receptive.”

That has you wondering, and quite amused how he said that. It means something big is coming. Sounds like fun.

“Can I ride you then?”

“You can do anything, really.”

It can’t get any hotter. Thankfully, you’re half undressed already. The panties you had left on soon float elsewhere just below the surface, and you’re shoving up the hem of your tank top. His chest feels ten times as invigorating when you’re naked against it. There’s hesitation when you reach for his cock. You don’t want to do anything wrong to hurt him. But Jungkook is encouraging the initiative. And the way he’s dipping at you flicks a plethora of switches. So it’s easy. You slip him in and start to move your hips. Soon you realize it’s a bit difficult to go down further.

“Can I use a spell? It helps.” he exhales. You knew it, he has those abilities.

“Mh, love to see it.”

There he goes. You catch Jungkook whispering a convoluted spell to himself before your walls pop open without further trial. He’s dipping in first, then going half the way already. That’s not normal at all. He knows what he’s doing, though. It’s so, so damn good. 

Jungkook is completely ecstatic. 

Your experience so far has been that sex in water generally… doesn’t go well. No lubrication, no fucking. But no, this has to be the best exception. The practically seamless scales, they’re really doing the trick. The plunge is slick and exciting, going in clean with every bounce. And there’s a quite a stunning lot to slide up and down on, that you get to welcome soon. He’s getting confident to echo the thrust with eyes fixated on yours. 

“Give me more of that,” you insist, leaving both legs wrapped around his wavering tail. It’s almost too slippery to hold on to. But good to sink down smoothly while squeezing deeper inside. You’re pushed upwards the more he fucks into you. His tip is broad enough to anchor you, not letting you glide off easily. But you’re dangerous close to it. So you’re letting yourself drop down on him with more momentum which he has to cushion first, causing your belly to bulge out considerably. You’re obsessed. 

“Lift my legs more, Jungkook!”

Like that, the insides of your thighs graze at his gills, abrasive and brisk. To your surprise, it eventuates in sharper thrusts going for your sweetest spots. The depth that he pursues now starts to stretch you hard and wide on the glossy scales. Jungkook keeps murmuring spells. If this goes on for any longer, that’s a cock riding that would send not only you but Taehyung and the entire neighborhood to the gates of heaven and higher. 

You keep shoving him straight up to dent out your abdomen, and he’s making it so salacious with his little moans. When you’re grabbing for hold at his shoulders, Jungkook warns you about his precum. Indeed it’s not to underestimate when you feel it, making everything two times as sleek. You slump down completely now, surprised not to feel any trace of balls against your ass. 

Different anatomy. 

Normal men need cooling for their sperm outside of their body, otherwise they would not survive. Jungkook? He’s got something else going on. Busan’s sea is not notoriously warm.

“Intertwine your fingers in my hair, Y/N—”

“What? Can I really do that?”

It sounds like heresy to your ears. 

“It’ll stimulate you, do it quickly,” he persists, and your fingers seek a place in his silky mane. And Christ, he’s right. There’s a rapid sedation of the anxious thoughts at the back of your mind. Instead, you’re feeling an immense euphoria descend from your spine down to your loins. Jungkook whimpers while you’re drilling him deeper with all your power. Slowly but surely, you lose yourself in his dazzling ocean hair. You’re so happy now. Nothing matters. Just you together within the blur of everything else. 

Fuck society. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. 

Jungkook’s moans have grown incomprehensible. Both of your hands soak up more of the sky blue energy. And once you grab the strands tighter, an overwhelming current verberates in your back until you’re ready and cumming. The world is so elated, nothing can bring your hands away from his hair. It’s pushing you to the limit incessantly. Better than any drug trip, better than the feeling after you ran your second marathon. You’re climaxing so vigorously on him that twenty seconds in, something effervescent and tingly begins to pour into your womb like a bursting well. His unearthly groaning gives you an idea of how much it shatters and empties him. You get filled to the brim and it won’t stop. Of course, he’s significantly larger than the average human — much semen to store then, by your logic at least. You do get a glimpse of the proportions as Jungkook keeps cramming loads and loads past your cervix while your orgasm keeps electrifying even the last corner of your body.  

The well won’t cease. He keeps moving until you’re entirely pumped full with an all creamy, tickling substance. You try to keep everything in not to leak it into the water. But it’s too much. With each of his last thrusts, the bulk of it just comes spilling out. A shimmering, dark cyan liquid rises to the surface in gradient plumes, mixed with streaks of your cum. It looks like fluid shapes of orchids showing as a supple iridescent foam. 

And it turns golden.

The scent gives you a feeling of the hours after rain in spring. Jungkook picks up a decent bit of the foam with two fingers, slipping them into his mouth. He leans in to kiss you again as you reach the aftermath of your peak that threatens to leave you bland. But what happens now makes you tighten around his dick once again, seizing out more to splutter inside.   

On your tongue unfold an explosion of jasmine blended with peppermint, thyme, fresh raspberries, wild honey, and even something like caramel. There was no way you would have been prepared for this. You had expected something like a sea breeze, but this beats all that you could imagine. Because beyond approximation, you can’t really describe what it is like. 

You swallow fast and retreat one hand from his hair to pick up something yourself. This is the best thing you’ve ever tasted. It can’t be called an actual thing, in fact, it’s more than that. It has to be an artifact. A magic potion that you want to bottle up and drink all day, sweet and glowing. 

It’s like alchemy. 

And you’re so deliciously stuffed with that now.  

Before you pull him out, all the negative pressure culminates. Then, the rest of his seed bubbles up placidly. The gaping feels like you just jammed a baseball bat inside of yourself, reckless abandon with a Himalaya of premium coke up your nose. Complete inebriation. 

Water streams in and flushes out the final strands of cyan when his following spells seal you tight. Jungkook holds you firm until you detangle his hair with your remaining hand, then place it on his cheek. If there were mermaids out there, they’d be the luckiest women on the entire planet. 

“Kook”, you whisper with an unwinding tremble, “you’re amazing.”

Anchoring an old khaki tent next to the pool takes some time, but you remember something about the manual. This goes here, that goes there, and this is how you zip up a sleeping bag. Jungkook giggles along. You can’t afford to sleep inside tonight. You only move your blouse to the safety of your wardrobe and get a snack, switch on the lights of the balcony to illuminate the garden for the rest of the evening. He’s singing for you.

The next day is grueling because you have to go to work. But before leaving, you relocate Jungkook to the bathtub as fast as possible, leaving him your phone with a short explanation so he can call you and vice versa. The anxiety comes back.  

He gets lighthearted leisure magazines and books to spend the time, and devours them. History, art, fashion, beauty, celebrities, health, sports, food, philosophy, fantasy, comedy. He also asks for a globe and celestial map, saying his uncle vaguely told him about it. Maybe it’s good that he knows a bit more about the mainland when he returns. You don’t want to let him go with the same ideas he had before, give him a bit of faith in the good things you had here. The other side of the coin, even if it was just a glimpse of hope. 

Though you didn’t expect him to return to your mansion in any way. Humanity is already terrifying enough. Especially after his loss. This should not happen again. You decide to leave him your trusted chef knife and a word of caution. He doesn’t know how to use it so you teach him the technique. He says he wouldn’t be any better than his attackers if there were some. You try to clarify that it’s the way humans act sometimes. Tit for tat. And he has all the right and responsibility to defend himself under threat, otherwise, he would never be able to see the stars again. 

At 10 am you give him a short call. He’s fine, quite mesmerized how the phone works, and just a bit hungry. You decide not to spend lunchtime in the city, but speed your car to a local supermarket and deli, looking for seaweed. Returning home Jungkook is still in his place, having managed to drop Terry Pratchett and J. K. Rowling into the water. But all else is as before. In the afternoon, you call him twice. He talks about the invention of the lightbulb, pasta salad, Kant, and how nicely Tolkien writes about Hobbits. Work passes torturously slow, the keyboard in front of you blurs each time your mind drifts away. You go home early, leaving your subordinates Jimin and Seokjin a bit puzzled at a shallow excuse. If only they knew.

It’s way after dawn when you move him out of the bathroom. Jungkook gets the idea that you could just use a wheelbarrow this time, knowing you own one after having had enough hours to glance around your garden already. You fill a bit of water into it and pick boots with a sturdy profile. And it works, the leverage is much better on the arms. You arrive at the beach laughing and joking together how silly of a duo you must look like. Jungkook has already given his word to come back in two days around the same time. 

The tide is close enough for you to take him to the water. He parts reluctantly with five, six, seven sublime kisses. You hope he wasn’t missed by his family. Busan’s nocturnal skyline radiates from afar when you watch him swim east ever so elegantly.  

It’s hard to find any sleep later. Your arms still ache like hell from dragging him. And so many things are going through your head. You end up outside in the tent after taking a quick shower, pretending he’s still there. Jungkook has last started a chapter from the Chronicles of Narnia, and you put yourself in a tired daze finishing it. Work tomorrow is going to be so hard.

Jimin asks if you’re okay while he organizes some files, but doesn’t comment anything further. You resume typing with the feeling that you are now leading a double life. Taehyung’s words come back: Slow down, slow down. And you do. Wednesday you will see him at the bay, everything is alright. Who knows what you will do afterwards, how often you will meet. Maybe it’s good not to make him cross into dangerous territory regularly, or at least you should look for more hidden places. You’ll make it.

Two days after, you receive an early mail. You’re drowsy but startled, Taehyung and Jin haven’t sent anything for months. It has to be one of them.

It’s only a red envelope and some strangely filled paper bag. You peel open the red letter first.

It was made with a typewriter. 

“A million and you get the fish back whole. He has a nice buzzcut already. Friday 1 pm, quay. Pull up with the money or you’ll see him on the news. Tell anybody and we will do the same to you.”

Below, the paper is embossed with a saw and hook symbol. 

You drop the bag as soon as you open it. 

There are hundreds of tiny pearls on the floor. 

Chapter II: I’m No Angel (m) | Chapter III: Dauntless

MASTERLIST

Do not repost, modify, or translate my work.© 2017-2019. submissive-bangtan. All rights reserved.

[jonathanalumbaugh]

Weekly Digest

Dec 23, 2017, 4th issue.

A roundup of stuff I consumed this week. Published weekly. All reading is excerpted from the main article unless otherwise noted.

Read

When women are discussed on the main economics discussion forum, the conversation moves from the professional to the personal...

Even with generous subsidies, low-income people are still unlikely to buy health insurance...

Managers are biased negatively against minority workers, and this, in turn, makes the minority workers perform worse...

Living standards may be growing faster than GDP growth...

The World Bank’s $1-a-day poverty line inadequately deals with local context, and a better measure can be derived through more complicated math...

Decriminalizing sex work makes it safer and more common...

Poor kids who grow up in rich neighborhoods do a lot better than poor kids who grow up in poor ones...

Better trained doctors mean fewer opioid related deaths...

After a bad outcome, female surgeon’s referrals went down much more than male surgeons...

The average worker does not value an Uber-like ability to set their own schedule...

Foreign finance has led to more inequality...

Preschool programs targeted at the poor don’t work nearly as well as universal pre-school programs...

Shocks to the economy in certain sectors can have larger effects on the entire economy than previously thought...

— 13 economists on the research that shaped our world in 2017

Comments section: Pilote345 - NO WONDER: Recently, the pilots' pay was less than it was in the 1980's. They might be trying to improve, but for example, I just now found Allegiant Air found pays MD-80 1st Officers $34,440.00, not much more than the $15/hour crowd wants for starting burger flippers.

— Airlines battle growing pilot shortage that could reach crisis levels in a few years

— APOLLO 10 0N BOARD V0ICE TRANSCRIPTION

Under Schmidt’s leadership, Google notched its fair share of not-quite-not-evil missteps. After getting everyone hooked on Gmail and Search, the company started to erode some of its original privacy promises.

— Be Kind of Evil

“People want to cast it as a choice between policy or technology as a solution but those should exist hand-in-hand. We would have never gotten renewable energy prices where they are today without really ambitious public policy. It shows the importance of bold goals,” Brown says.

— California Poised To Hit 50% Renewable Target A Full Decade Ahead Of Schedule

“Keep your phone away from your body,” the state health department writes. “Although the science is still evolving, some laboratory experiments and human health studies have suggested the possibility” that typical long-term cell phone use could be linked to “brain cancer and tumors of the acoustic nerve,” “lower sperm counts,” and “effects on learning and memory.”

— California says the only safe way to talk on your cell phone is to text

Developer infatuation with Chrome is not good — because competition between browsers is good.

— Chrome is Not the Standard

The initial physical deployment of 5G networks alone could pack a major economic punch. A 2017 Accenture report forecasts the cellular communications industry will invest $275 billion in new networks, which will create up to 3 million jobs and add some $500 billion to the United States’ gross domestic product. Longer term, researchers expect the new 5G networks to help stimulate productivity growth to rates not seen since the 1950s.

— The Coming 5G Revolution

In early tests, the company claims the feature helped to reduce ghosting behavior on its service by 25 percent.

— Dating app Hinge rolls out a new feature to reduce ‘ghosting’

Liberated from the diamond and pointing calmly eastward, perhaps a designer’s pure intent is revealed—direction for an otherwise aimless walk in the woods.

— Decoding the Mysterious Markers on the Appalachian Trail

Trade the ginkgo biloba for a bag of spinach during your next stop at the store: Leafy greens may be your best resource for boosting memory... The study involved 960 people, all between 58 and 99 and without dementia. Everyone enrolled in the study was part of the Memory and Aging Project, which has been ongoing since 1979 at the Knight Alzheimer's Disease Research Center at Washington University.

— EATING SALAD EVERY DAY KEEPS BRAINS 11 YEARS YOUNGER AND PREVENTS DEMENTIA, STUDY SHOWS

— Edward Snowden on Twitter

Commander Persera swam out into intergalactic space last week, she says in a forum post, piloting a ship called the Jack of Flames. The reason for the trip is simply to go further from Sol than anyone else (a previous record was set by one Commander Deluvian, who travelled 65,652 lightyears from Sol along a similar route). But also, she says, to bring a canister of mugs from the infamous Hutton Orbital space station into the void and leave them there. Just because.

— Elite Dangerous pilots are scrambling to rescue an explorer stranded in the void between galaxies

[Eminem says] that he's not making his music for other artists who aren't fans to begin with.

— Eminem Responds to Vince Staples’ Criticism of Him

Reports so far claim the spec will offer support for low, mid, and high-band spectrum from below 1 GHz (like 600 and 700 MHz) all the way up to around 50 GHz while including the 3.5 GHz band. It’s been said that the first 5G networks for consumers will begin rolling out in 2019 and this will continue throughout 2020.

— First 5G Specification has been Declared Complete by the 3GPP

As Brian and his wife wandered off toward the No. 2 train afterward, it crossed my mind that he was the kind of guy who might have ended up a groomsman at my wedding if we had met in college. That was four years ago. We’ve seen each other four times since. We are “friends,” but not quite friends. We keep trying to get over the hump, but life gets in the way.

— Friends of a Certain Age

Comment section: Blaming Amazon for this is wrong. The people make a choice to work for them. This is an indictment on our society that forces these people to have to work. Amazon isn’t a charity that should have to take care of people. But it’s all of us who are to blame.

— A Glimpse Inside CamperForce, Amazon's Disposable Retiree Laborers

Effective filmmakers, no matter their genre or taste, put their fingers in the air, feel for a current, and then make art that either complements or pushes against it. They distill the world they live in, which is why there’s no such thing as an apolitical film.

— How Big Screen Sci-Fi and Horror Captured 2016’s Political Paranoia

The Legislative Analyst’s Office predicts California will eventually make more than $1 billion annually from taxing recreational marijuana.

— HOW RECREATIONAL MARIJUANA IN CALIFORNIA LEFT CHEMISTS IN THE DARK

What makes for an effective office environment? Random encounters with your coworkers. And food. Lots and lots of food.

— How to Build a Collaborative Office Space Like Pixar and Google

Fidelity suggests having your yearly income saved at 30, three times your income at 40, seven times your income at 55, and 10 times your income at 67.

— How Much Should You Have Saved at Every Age?

HCI (human-computer interaction) is the study of how people interact with computers and to what extent computers are or are not developed for successful interaction with human beings.

— Human-computer interaction, from University of Birmingham

The company says it is now focused on “on developing and investing in globally scalable blockchain technology solutions,” but, as reported by Bloomberg, it has exactly zero partnerships in the works with crypto firms

— Iced Tea Maker's Stock Price Triples After Adding 'Blockchain' to Name”

9 “Should you invite someone who assaulted you to your wedding.” No.

— It Came From The Search Terms: “I Can See The Sun In Late December”

The best way to cook a steak is medium rare. Plenty of people will disagree with this statement, for different reasons.

— Medium Rare: The Best Way to Cook a Steak

It sounds like it was made by an algorithm. It checks off so many boxes it could land in anyone’s “Because you watched” recommendations.

— Netflix’s first big movie “Bright” feels like a blockbuster built by an algorithm

State law that is rarely invoked requires tied elections to be settled by “lot.”

— Oyster shucking? A duel? No, Virginia will pull a name from a film canister to settle tied election

— Parents give teacher wine with son's face on label

— Reggie Watts: Fuck Shit Stack

— Reggie Watts: Humor in music

Self-efficacy is defined as a personal judgement of "how well one can execute courses of action required to deal with prospective situations".

— Self-efficacy (Wikipedia)

The problem Haven aims to address is known as an “evil maid” attack. Basically, many of the precautions you might take to protect your cybersecurity can go out the window if someone gains physical access to your device.

— Snowden's New App Turns Your Spare Android Phone into a Pocket-Sized Security System

After doing a lot of online research and making a terrible mess, I thought I could make a tutorial for humble people like me. If I can do it, you can do it too.

— The Ultimate Guide to DIY Screw Post Book Binding

The robot obediently appeared in the distance, floating next to Miller. Miller then walked into the same space as the robot and promptly disappeared. Well, mostly disappeared, I could still see his legs jutting out from the bottom of the robot. My first reaction was, “Of course that’s what happens.” But then I realized I was seeing a fictional thing created by Magic Leap technology completely obscure a real-world human being. My eyes were seeing two things existing in the same place and had decided that the creation, not the engineer, was the real thing and simply ignored Miller, at least that’s how Abovitz later explained it to me.

— We Need to Talk About Magic Leap's Freaking Goggles

What’s this mistake so many make? It’s using your current job title as your headline.

— What Your LinkedIn Headline Reveals About Your Self-Confidence At Work

With the Dec. 14 repeal, Comcast and others will be able to charge content companies exorbitant fees without, technically, blocking. This fundamentally changes how the internet works, argues Ryan Singel, a fellow at the Center for Internet and Society at Stanford Law School.

— What will happen now that net neutrality is gone? We asked the experts

The story [Cat Person] stuck with me because I, too, have felt like the story’s main character, Margot. I have belittled myself to make a man in a vulnerable situation feel more comfortable. I have allowed myself to spend time with boys who I did not like that much but who I felt I owed my time to because they really liked me. And I have also taken part in the practice of ghosting- ignoring somebody who is texting me, instead of outright rejecting them. With time, I have gotten much better at being straightforward when someone is interested in me and the feeling is not reciprocated, but I still do the dance many women do: We exert energy into finding the most polite, passive way to get ourselves out of uncomfortable situations with men.

— Why Women Are Ghosting You

[drferox]

20 Questions with Dr Ferox #16

Another round of questions from your Vetlings to round out the week. A few follow up questions from this weeks topics are included, I’ve tried to tag askers, but if you asked on Anon then the onus is on you to see if your answer is in here.

Anonymous said: that thing you said about cats aggression being worse is so true. I've worked with a lot of animals and never had a problem like I have with cats. I love them dearly but even my own cats have gotten me when holding them for the vet. The worst part is not only to they act unpredictable but they have that nasty habit of getting their claws stuck in you! One of my boys got his claw stuck in my hand while I was removing a paralysis tick from him. Not a pleasant experience

Cats are more difficult to handle when aggressive because a larger portion of the animal is weaponised. A dog only has one weapon of note, and it's easier to predict where it's going.

Anonymous said:re the cat spay pain medication, that's interesting! when our cats were speutered (UK) I'm fairly sure the vet sent home some sort of liquid oral anti-inflammatory/painkiller which we administered with a syringe, the same one which they've also given us a couple times when my cat's gotten into fights. can't remember the name though!

Yeah, I would bet it's some brand of meloxicam. It works well, but it's relatively expensive compared to the cost of the spay. I've also had people refuse to give it because they think the animal 'looks fine'. It's one of the pain relief drugs which may last up to three days when given as a loading dose, so we use it commonly, because that way owners can't decline to give their cat it's prescribed medication because they think it doesn't need it.

@8679thehuman said: so i know if my cat drinks my water that i don't drink it because parasites. so what about the opposite? sometimes if I have water i don't want to finish i'll dump it in the cat's water bowl. is there anything i could transmit to them, assuming i'm not sick? thanks so much! tax: came for the fantasy biology, stayed for the not-james-herriot tag!

I hope you have no parasites to share with your cat, but the risks are probably overblown. You're not going to get parasites from sharing water, but bacterial contamination may be another matter. Most parasites from cats are transmitted either via faeces or vomit.

@jarraxitty said: Hey! So this question just randomly came to me a moment ago while I was petting my cat. I've heard a lot of parents, or whatever, say to younger kids that cats will remember what you do to them, to keep their kids from pulling on their tails and such. I was curious how true this actually is. I believe you've said that dogs won't connect the dots unless consequence happens after the act, or something along those lines, but are cats... well, smarter? Thank you, and have a wonderful night!

Animals remember things that happen to them. It's how they learn. What they don't necessarily correlate is two events that happen separate in time, such as urinating in the house and being punished four hours later, or eating a sock and subsequently having surgery.

Anonymous said: Happy story! There's a cat my neighbor lets out at night, and the kitty and I are buddies! If I'm outside he sits in my lap, he purrs loudly when he sees me, and in turn I give him catnip from my garden. I call him Pretty, because he's a pretty kitty and I don't know his name. He knows my porch is a safe porch too!

Pretty is lucky to have somewhere safe to go to, and to have someone looking out for him. I hope he is definitely owned and not just wandering from one house to another.

@brass-tacked said:Hi! I just found your page so I apologize if this has already been asked (I tried searching but didn't find anything). A week ago I took my 14 month old cat, Gryf, in for his yearly check and vaccinations, while there the veterinarian said that Gryf has fairly severe gingivitis but didn't recommend a cleaning yet. He did suggest brushing his teeth (I've been trying since adopting, but Gryf says NO!) I've since heard that raw chicken necks are good for teeth cleaning, any thoughts? Thank you!

They can be useful if the cat actually chews them, though raw chicken should always be handled with respect. Anything with VOHC certification will also be helpful.

@skeletonmug said: hello again! New question - My cat goes outside (enclosed garden, supervised, UK). He's got white fur on his ears and nose and pink skin that shoes through in places. We've had some hot sunny days recently (by UK standards), is it worth it or sensible to put sunscreen on his pink bits or is that overkill? If it is worth it are there cat friendly sun screens or particular chemicals I should avoid when looking?

Avoid zinc, try to use something designed for pets as cats will lick sunscreen off themselves eventually. I don't know the rates of squamous cell carcinomas in the Northern hemisphere, but we have very high UV exposure in Australia so it's a significant issue for us, even on some cloudy days.

@orgy-of-nerdiness said: Hi! I was wondering if you had any resources for explaining cat breeds/the fact that, unlike dogs, most cats aren't part of any breed lineage. I have a DLH and he's very large and fluffy, which leads to the inevitable questions (or assumptions) about being "part Maine Coon." While I don't actually know his background (he's a rescue), I know it's extremely unlikely, but it's been so long since I did the research that I can't remember or figure out what sites to use as sources.

No I don't have a resource to refer people to. I AM the resource most of the time, to say this is not a purebred X though it has some Y features, the stray kitten you rescued in your backyard is unlikely to be a Bengal in any way, it's just a tabby, but you can call it whatever you like if it makes you love it more.

@thevalyrian said: Hello and good evening! Or morning, if it's morning in Australia. I recently asked my vets a question that they were very wishy washy on, and am hoping you might have some more clarity. The situation is that I have two young oriental cats, a short-hair and a long-hair. My apartment unfortunately has very poor air conditioning. What is the highest temperature you think is safe for a long-haired cat? I've done things like turning on fans, adding extra water, and giving them ice, but still worry...

'Safe' will vary by breed, age, weight and general health. Generally about 30 Celsius would be as high as I'd go without some worry, but I'm Australian. If the cats are only used to living around 10 degrees Celsius then 30 will be alarmingly hot. It really does depend on what the animals are used to.

Anonymous said: Do you believe in tortitude? Also if you do do you think it extends to the few male Tortoiseshell cats there are?

Yes, tortitude is a thing. The male tortoiseshell cats I've seen have been a bit odd in one way or another, but I usually see them when they're sick so my assessment may not be accurate.

@neonheart131 said: Hi! I was curious if dog breeds that get chronic ear infections can go deaf because of it? Im asking because i have an elderly (14 yo) english springer who i think has gone deaf or at the very least has severe hearing loss, and wanted to know if it was from his bad ears or just old age.

It's possible, especially if the ear canals are scarred or narrowed, or if the ear drum has been damaged. It is usually not the case though, dogs need to have something we term a 'terminal ear', to go deaf from external ear canal infections, which is when the ear is so scarred up it's basically closed and useless.

Anonymous asked: Do you think drop eared dogs get annoyed when their ears do that flippy over thing?

Maybe, especially the dogs with very heavy drop ears, like certain spaniels. It's another extreme of anatomy that I don't think is desirable, and these dogs are prone to ear infections which encourage them to shake anyway. Some will shake their ears so much they develop haematomas in them.

Anonymous said: Hey! Can I have some advice?? All good if not! So I have a blue heeler just over a year old. Anyway he used to have a pillows and blankets outside but he's ripped them up and I brought him a jacket yesterday because it's been cold in Victoria lately and over night he pulled it off and ripped it up (he sleeps outside mum won't let him sleep inside) do you have any tips of how to stop him from ripping stuff or something that will keep him warm that he can't ruin? He's not getting any other pillow

Unfortunately he may be one of those dogs that just can't have blankets, pillows or jackets without risking him eating them and developing an intestinal obstruction. You may be better off making sure he has shelter from the weather, but nothing within it that he can destroy.

Anonymous: Hello Doctor! How do you feel about guinea pigs? Personally, since I've kept quite a lot of them, they're adorable and well meaning little potatoes who are sensitive and can get sick easily from stress and environmental stuff (like if their cage doesn't get cleaned right away due to forgetfulness or being away).

I think they're underrated pets, though some have a bit of attitude (adorable potato attitude). I would be more inclined to keep guinea pigs than rabbits since we are not permitted to have a myxomatosis vaccine in Australia, and Guinea Pigs are not affected by it. They are generally not treated all that well by the general public though, widely regarding them as cheap and disposable pets.

Anonymous said: What kind of diseases can people get from walking in animal poop? Specifically goat and horse?

You are asking the wrong person for horsey information, but I don't think there are any parasites in those species that will invade human skin, most of those worm species are in carnivores. That said, you can still pick up bacterial infections, just like you can from anything else's poop.

@treebranchs said: hello! im too poor to get my cat spayed at the local vet (it's ~$500) but there is a bus run by PETA that comes once a month, called the "snip van," where many people get their pets fixed for under $100. I will most likely have to use this option but I feel nervous as I don't love PETA and the idea of a mobile surgery room sounds odd to me. I know you are Australian so perhaps they don't have these vans where you live. do you or your followers know if this is a safe way to get a pet spayed? thx

I to would be wary of PETA. There are such things as mobile surgery vans which can be fine for a small animal like a cat, but this will vary from van to van. I would recommend calling your local clinic to ask their opinion on it. In my experience vets haven't been too fussed about where a cat gets desexed, so long as it actually happens, but if they have any concerns about an organisation they might recommend somewhere else instead.

Anonymous said: Q Tax: I just like reading about vet life. My question: What's the BEST surgery aftercare you've seen? What are situations where you've gone in expecting the worse (of the humans) and been pleasantly surprised or relieved?

Honestly, as long as the wound heals aftercare doesn't have to be fancy. When I say 'clean, dry and rested' that's really all we need! When I say 'strict confinement' I don't mean let is go for a 5km run and jump over the couch. There's no need to get fancy as long as the basics are met.

Anonymous said: Hairless dogs and cats typically have "normal" looking snouts. Do hairless brachycephalic dogs or cats exist? What do/would they look like? I don't remember your current question tax but I look up to your blog and want to thank you for running it.

I really don't want to know. Many brachycephalic dogs have fairly short hair, but I don't know of any brachycephalic hairless breeds, and don't want to.

Anonymous said: If for some reason you didn't choose to become a veterinarian what profession do you think you'd have gone into? Personally I think with your love for stegosauruses you would be a great paleontologist.

While I certainly loved biology and genetics, I don't know if there would have been a career for me in those fields. I considered teaching and psychology, but they're not really for me either. I don't think I would be happy enough in either of those professions. Palaeontology seems to have quite a lot of digging, and the few I've met have lamented how much time they unfortunately have to spend convincing people that evolution is a real phenomenon.

Anonymous said: I've been a vet tech for over a year now, and my experience in clinic hasn't always been great - I've worked for some vets who treated their employees terribly, and other techs who went out of their way to gossip and try to make trouble for me. Sometimes I get disillusioned with this career. But then I think about all the awesome work you do, and the compassion with which you reach out to others, and realize there ARE great people in this field. So thank you.

Our field contains the gambit of human experience, but perhaps the one feature that unites most of us is this:

We all liked animals more than people.

For some of us, we learn to get along. Some of us have more difficulty, but there are all sorts of people in the veterinary industry. You just have to find the good ones and hang onto them like a lonely koala.

[dfroza]

the purest gold of life on earth

is (already inside) the heart as a seed of the Spirit in being first chosen to be in Love as a child of Light.

A seed of grace that silently and patiently waits to be discovered, to be sought out in the spiritual truth of rebirth in the Light (in the True illumination) of the Son.

and the Voice of Love is heard as a mirroring of Heaven here on earth spoken through us who have clearly chosen to “believe…”

and the seed of the Scriptures being written down illuminates this, to conserve the True nature of discovering the place of “Home”

(inside, Anew)

and truly, the beginning of real wisdom is the fear of God.

A point made in Today’s chapter 8 of Ecclesiastes that begins its first verse as this:

There’s nothing better than being wise,

Knowing how to interpret the meaning of life.

Wisdom puts light in the eyes,

And gives gentleness to words and manners.

(The Message)

and interpreting the meaning (the definition) of eternal life begins with grace, in pure & simply trusting in Love and its sacred truth.

from Today’s reading in the ancient Letter of Romans as Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments with Ecclesiastes 8:

God’s way of putting people right shows up in the acts of faith, confirming what Scripture has said all along: “The person in right standing before God by trusting him really lives.”

[Ignoring God Leads to a Downward Spiral]

But God’s angry displeasure erupts as acts of human mistrust and wrongdoing and lying accumulate, as people try to put a shroud over truth. But the basic reality of God is plain enough. Open your eyes and there it is! By taking a long and thoughtful look at what God has created, people have always been able to see what their eyes as such can’t see: eternal power, for instance, and the mystery of his divine being.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 1:17-20 (The Message)

and the magnificence of True nature here on earth leaves us in awe, to spark a sense of wonder in the amazement of it all. truly designed to inspire us to believe in and respectfully fear our Creator who is Love in pure truth.

‪@MarkTamayokTVU liked by @YoseConservancy: Another fantastic pic from Ellen. Yosemite Falls flowing with some force this week #reflections @YoseConservancy‬

5.9.19 • 3:36pm • Twitter

as God is Trinity in Father, Spirit and Son, yet simultaneously absolutely “One” who originally made the genesis seed of male and female to be joined Together as “One” here on earth. for sexually, as designed by Love, we’re not supposed to engage our bodies with someone of the same sex. this is spiritual truth, not drafted by man but by the Spirit of God our Creator who made the grandeur of the heavens and the universal garden of Mother earth.

something that is also written about in the ancient Letter conserved in the Scriptures as the first chapter of Romans:

Paul, a servant of Jesus the Anointed called by God to be His emissary and appointed to tell the good news of the things promised long ago by God, spoken by prophets, and recorded in the Holy Scriptures. All of this good news is about His Son: who was (from a human perspective) born of David’s royal line and ultimately designated to be the true Son of God with power upon His resurrection from the dead by the Spirit of holiness. I am speaking of Jesus, the Anointed One, our Lord.

And here’s what He’s done: He has graced us and sanctioned us as His emissaries whose mission is to spread the one true and obedient faith to all people in the name of Jesus. This includes you: you have been called by Jesus, God’s Anointed.

To all those who are God’s beloved saints in Rome:

May grace and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, surround you.

First, I thank my God through Jesus the Anointed for all of you because we are joined by faith as family, and your faith is spreading across the world. For I call God as my witness—whom I worship in my spirit and serve in making known the gospel—He alone knows how often I mention you in my prayers. I find myself constantly praying for you and hoping it’s in God’s will for me to be with you soon. I desperately want to see you so that I can share some gift of the Spirit to strengthen you. Plus I know that when we come together something beautiful will happen as we are encouraged by each other’s faith.

If, my brothers and sisters, you did not already know, my plans were set to meet you in Rome, but time and circumstances have forced every trip to be canceled until now. I have deeply desired to see some good fruit among you just as I have seen with so many non-Jewish believers. You see, I am in tremendous debt to those of various nationalities, from non-Jews to barbarians, from the wisest of the wise to the idle wanderer. So you can imagine how eager I am to join you and to teach the good news in the mighty and diverse city of Rome.

For I am not the least bit embarrassed about the gospel. I won’t shy away from it, because it is God’s power to save every person who believes: first the Jew, and then the non-Jew. You see, in the good news, God’s restorative justice is revealed. And as we will see, it begins with and ends in faith. As the Scripture declares, “By faith the just will obtain life.”

For the wrath of God is breaking through from heaven, opposing all manifestations of ungodliness and wickedness by the people who do wrong to keep God’s truth in check. These people are not ignorant about what can be known of God, because He has shown it to them with great clarity. From the beginning, creation in its magnificence enlightens us to His nature. Creation itself makes His undying power and divine identity clear, even though they are invisible; and it voids the excuses and ignorant claims of these people because, despite the fact that they knew the one true God, they have failed to show the love, honor, and appreciation due to the One who created them! Instead, their lives are consumed by vain thoughts that poison their foolish hearts. They claim to be wise; but they have been exposed as fools, frauds, and con artists—only a fool would trade the splendor and beauty of the immortal God to worship images of the common man or woman, bird or reptile, or the next beast that tromps along.

So God gave them just what their lustful hearts desired. As a result, they violated their bodies and invited shame into their lives. How? By choosing a foolish lie over God’s truth. They gave their lives and devotion to the creature rather than to the Creator Himself, who is blessed forever and ever. Amen. This is why God released them to their own vile pursuits, and this is what happened: they chose sexual counterfeits—women had sexual relations with other women and men committed unnatural, shameful acts because they burned with lust for other men. This sin was rife, and they suffered painful consequences.

Since they had no mind to recognize God, He turned them loose to follow the unseemly designs of their depraved minds and to do things that should not be done. Their days are filled with all sorts of godless living, wicked schemes, greed, hatred, endless desire for more, murder, violence, deceit, and spitefulness. And, as if that were not enough, they are gossiping, slanderous, God-hating, rude, egotistical, smug people who are always coming up with even more dreadful ways to treat one another. They don’t listen to their parents; they lack understanding and character. They are simple-minded, covenant-breaking, heartless, and unmerciful; they are not to be trusted. Despite the fact that they are fully aware that God’s law says this way of life deserves death, they fail to stop. And worse—they applaud others on this destructive path.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 1 (The Voice)

my reading of the Scriptures for may 10, day 52 of Spring and day 130 of the year:

[surveyyyys]

1.if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to? Read -- I don't know if this is a contemporary definition of who I am, but I think The Sirens of Titan by Vonnegut would be a good example of what kind of content captivates me. Watch -- Maleficent is a really good movie because it matches my take on love and friendship pretty well. The Devil Wears Prada is also a good movie because it's basically everything I want for my own life. But they would have to stop just before Andy quits her job like I do LOL Listen to -- easily “Evelyn” by Kim Tillman and the Silent Films. I heard that song and I felt like it described me better than I could describe myself. 

2.have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? if so, who? I don't think so. I've read a lot of books and really admired how those other people thought. And I connected with the messages that the books sent. But I don't think I felt that my thought process measured up to theirs LOL.

3.three songs that you connect with right now. Adia Victoria's cover of Laissez Tomber Les Filles Hurricane by 76th Street Hospital Beds by Florence and the Machine

4.would you have sex with the last person you text messaged? LOL nah. She's not very trustworthy and she seems a little passively judgmental in bed. Plus I'm straight LOL

5.have you taken someones virginity? Yes!

6.how many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust? None LOL

7.if you could, would you take back your last kiss? I wouldn't! I think it was necessary.

8.who would you like to see in concert? Probably Marina. I think that would be a really fun concert.

9.what was the last concert you saw? I went to Warped with a few other people 2 years ago.

10.would you ever want to swim with sharks? LOL hell no

11.do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months? I hope so! I want to be the kind of person who's always changing.

12.what was the last thing that made you laugh? Probably something silly my mom said.

13.a song you’d listen to during soft/slow/passionate sex? I don't really listen to music during sex... but probably Tadow by Masego.

14.have any pets? My sister has a cat! I like to consider her partially my cat.

15.do you want to have kids? How many? Not now obviously, but eventually. I don't think I would want more than 2.

16.do you have piercings? How many? I only have 2 ear piercings.

17.do you miss anyone from your past? Of course I do. I think that's just part of being a person though.

18.what are you craving right now? Nothing really... maybe the energy to get me through this next semester?

19.have you ever broken someone’s heart? Probably. Not like seriously broken their heart, but done a little damage to it.

20.have you ever been cheated on? Yes.

21.have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? I mean, his actions often made himself cry. But I was the one who was affected by his actions, yes.

22.do you believe in true love? I believe that true love is unconditional love, and that it only exists when it comes to family. Blood is always thicker than water.

23.favourite weather? The first few weeks of fall when it's still warm out, and the leaves are still changing color. After that it becomes a gross playground for seasonal depression.

24.do you like the snow? LOL nope never did

25.do you wanna get married? Someday. But I don't want it so much that I'm going to sit around waiting for it to happen, you know?

26.is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? Sure, depends on who it is.

27.what’s an inner joke you have with your friends? LOL the weird tense we speak in.

28.go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! It is physically impossible to lick your elbow.

29.what’s your favorite pasta dish? I like a well done spinach ravioli.

30.what color do you really want to dye your hair? I don't really want to dye my hair that badly. But when I'm old and my hair gets white anyway, I'm gonna dye it pink. Nobody's gonna argue with an old lady with pink hair, you know what I mean?

31.what’s your favorite eye color? I think this is a very "White People" question since most other ethnicities have brown eyes by default.

32.talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. LOL I get a bag like that each year. I don't really buy expensive branded bags for this purpose since I know they're gonna end up in the armpit of New Brunswick, on Rutgers bathroom floors, and on nasty buses by the end of the year. I don't love them to pieces, but I'm glad I have them. This year's bag is a small white sling bag with a pink and green floral design on it. It carries everything I would need or want on a daily basis (ex. phone, wallet, extra phone charger, gum, whatever liquid lipstick I'm wearing that day, mini Swiss Army knife, earbuds, compact mirror, etc.). I take it everywhere with me.

33.are you a morning person? Not in the slightest.

34. what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? I've never broken in anywhere LOL

35.what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? I don't wear a particular pair of shoes with every outfit. I think the oldest pair of shoes I own are these tattered gray boots that I got in like middle school LOL. I rarely wear them.

36.what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. I never really invested in like cute or fun socks because they're always expensive and I think it's kind of a useless thing to invest in. But everyone always has these interesting fuzzy socks on and I'm like "hmm, maybe I should get a pair of those." But I never do. In terms of socks, I prefer function over fashion for some reason.

37.tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. Nothing really interesting happened after 3am. There are usually 3 different post-3-AM scenarios: either I'm talking to someone for so long that it's approximately 4 to 5am before we realize it, we were drinking and someone got too drunk and blacked out/threw up, we were drinking/doing drugs and we actually survived the night without blacking out/throwing up.

38.do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! LOL I just go to Starbucks man.

39.who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? I don't go stargazing with anyone. I just notice them by myself and it makes my day better. It's more of a personal thing for me.

40.what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? I was always really scared of bugs. I still am.

41.do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? Nah I don't buy either. I don't have a CD/record player.

42.think of a person. what song do you associate with them? I always used to associate the song "Belle of the Boulevard" with my older sister. I don't think it applies anymore though, since she's in a relationship now.

43.what are your favorite memes of the year so far I like the lil spiderman one. I also thought the "some of you never ____ and it shows" ones were fun until they reached mainstream meme sources (Buzzfeed, Instagram, etc.) and they became unfunny.

44.do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? I don't like poetry.

45.what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received? A Pottery Barn gift card when I was in middle school. For both instances.

46.what are some of your worst habits? I care too much about what other people think. I also grind my teeth.

47.describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. They're really short, probably one of the shortest people I've ever met. They're an INTJ through and through, and usually pride themselves on telling it like it is. Sometimes though, they "tell it like it is" during inappropriate situations which can be annoying. They really want to be a writer, but they're working in Marketing now for the money. They're a good student, and are motivated to succeed, which is a breath of fresh air in an environment where nobody seems to care about where they're going or how to improve. Behind their IDGAF attitude, though, they give many fucks. They tell me that they care deeply for their friends, and most of the time I actually believe them (which is saying a lot for me, since I never believe that anyone cares about anyone). They have a lot of insecurities and they can try to cover up those insecurities with male validation.

48.tell us about your pets! My sister has a cat named Minnie. She's a brown cat and she's getting to be on the heavy side LOL. She screams between 3pm and 6pm because that's when she's hungry. She also likes sitting outside closed doors and screaming. She really likes boys and she'll be super sweet to them. She's pretty indifferent to girls though.

49.is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? Actually, no. At most, I should probably be working on my case study or getting my shit together before school starts. But these are the last two days of my winter break. So it's okay if I relax a little bit.

50.are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? I don't really care about minions LOL.

51.what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? My coworkers threw me a little birthday party and put up streamers and got me cupcakes this past summer. It really brightened my day, since no one had done that for me in years.

52.describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. I don't really gaze into my friend's eyes like that.

53.what’s some of your favorite album art? War Eternal by Arch Enemy, Broken Machine by Nothing But Thieves, How to be a Human Being by Glass Animals, Villains by Queens of the Stone Age, Heritage by Opeth, and probably a few others.

54.are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? I want to get a tattoo on my upper back next summer. It's going to be a mountain range with a few birds flying over it, and 2 lines written in this language I made up underneath it.

55.do you like concept albums? which ones? I like the idea of them! I don't think I listen very much to any concept albums though.

56.what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? Memento and Forrest Gump.

57.list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. Oh No! by Marina, Hurricane by 76th Street, The Wolf by Phildel, Shake it Out by Florence and the Machine, Orbiting by the Weepies, Pretty Little Head by Eliza Rickman, Elastic Heart by Sia, Big Girls Cry by Sia, Cellophane by Sara Jackson Holman.

58.if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? Definitely to go 5 years into the future.

59.what do you do when you’re sad? I usually just listen to music and wallow.

60.what are some things you do when you can’t sleep? I play this one specific podcast called Dan Carlin's Hardcore History. I'm usually asleep within the next 30 minutes of playing it.

61.what was the best (non-romantic) night you’ve had? There are a few contenders. There's the night I did acid for the first time. There's any of the nights we had those parties in our suite last year where no one threw up/cried. There's that night I legitimately fell off the bed laughing, and we drove to another campus in the middle of the night in someone's pickup truck. Any one of the nights during my winter community service break trip where we cooked/got sentimental/bonded. I'm sure there are others.

62.who is the last person you told a secret to? The same friend I described in this survey.

63.what’s the best piece of advice you ever received? Many people have told me this. But it's to stop trying to jump to the finish line and enjoy the present.

64.what’s your favorite food? I don't have one specific all-across favorite food. But I really like breakfast food out of all others!

65.what’s your secret dream? I want to go on a several-day-long trip with a bunch of close friends. I don't want to tag along with my sister... I want it to be my own trip with my own friends.

66.three songs you were recently obsessed with. Despicable - Grandson OBLIVIUS - The Strokes Broken Machine - Nothing But Thieves

67.three songs that remind you of the person who sends this one --

68. three favourite old songs A Well Respected Man - The Kinks Shout At The Devil - Motley Crue Rust In Peace... Polaris - Megadeth

69.three last songs you listened to Overdose by Grandson and two other random songs I didn't pay much attention to.

70.worst possible time to get horny: During an exam (it's happened before).

71.have you ever had a friends with benefits? Yup a couple times. Didn't last very long though.

72.do you believe in soulmates? Consciously I don't, but subconsciously I do.

73.Is there anyone you would die for? My sister and my mom.

74.whowas the last person you cried in front of? My sister's cat LOL

75.do you give out second chances too easily? I actually don't give out enough second chances I think.

76.is it easier to forgive or forget? Forget.

77.is this year the best year of your life? Nope, that was definitely 2016.

78.do you have trust issues? Very much so.

79.who/what was your last dream about? I don't actually remember... I knew it was set in a university environment though.

80.would you go back in time if you were given the chance? Only if I could go back to my first year of college and relive it.

[auskultu]

THE CONTINUING STORY OF THE PANTS SUIT: WILL IT SURIVE?

Marylin Bender, The New York Times, 10 April 1967

Will the bulging thigh, the broad beam and the wiggling posterior cause a wave of revulsion against a style that finally caught on last winter after being rebuffed for more than half a decade?

Last Saturday, the pants suit appeared on Fifth Avenue, in the city’s most elegant shops, at the circus matinee at Madison Square Garden and on the ice skating rink at Rockefeller Center, The wearers ranged from teen to middle-aged, from lean to plump. Reactions ran the gamut from the shudder to the leer depending on who was in what pants suit and the sex and fashion-consciousness of the observer.

In sum, the pants suit looks either superb or dreadful. There seems to be no middle ground. Like the chemise in the summer of 1958, the pants suit in the spring of 1967 is a style of formidable chic or mass monstrosity. Whether it’s very, very good or very, very bad depends on the wearer, the design and the accessories. An otherwise superb effect may be ruined by the wrong shoe, handbag or sweater. The tailored suit seems to look best with a low-heeled boot or buckled shoe, a trim calf handbag and a turtle-neck sweater.

Will the pants suit survive into fall? Designers and merchants are divided in their opinions. Most of them, however, see the parallel with the chemise, which incurred the wrath of the American male but became the most enduring fashion of the nineteen-sixties, particularly after its name was changed to the shift, the tent or the djellabah.

• Betsey Johnson, who at 24 is probably the most uninhibited designer in America and who did a girlish gangster suit for Paraphernalia a season before Yves Saint Laurent thought of it in Paris, says; “I’m not doing any more pants suits; I think pants are being afraid to say leg. I think basic leg is better.”

In the fall collection she is designing with David Hoff for Paraphernalia, there will be “great knitted leg coverings in masses of textures and colors” worn with mini-dresses.

• Jacques Tiffeau, who recalls making his first pants suit in 1960 (and having no one buy it), is sticking with the style. “You just can’t tell people they look terrible,” he said. “There is some beauty and some ugliness, but pants are in, no question about it. So I will make them in a different way for fall, a little more constructed, less masculine and much more real for a lady. She doesn’t have to go to the Pavilion in them. But for walking the dog, they’re very practical.”

• Victor Joris of Cuddlecoat, a pioneer of the pants suit (he has been making them for four years) will show 20 versions of the style for fall. A year ago, he presented 25. “What happened to the pants suit is what always happens to a good fashion,” he said. “Everybody grabs hold of it and there’s a flood of ugly, unflattering, out and out tacky ones.” The secret of tile elegant pants suit, according to Mr. Joris, is in the fabric and an elongated silhouette.

“I use Shetland and heavy gabardine,” he said. “And we make them in sizes 6 to 12 with just a few 14’s. Unless a woman is exceptionally well-proportioned, she shouldn’t be wearing pants. I kept my jackets long because I don’t like the line when the fanny is sticking out. Ninety-nine per cent of women should wear girdles with pants, but they don’t.”

• Luba Marx of Elite Juniors, another earlybird with the pants suit, expects to devote to it 20 per cent of her fall collection, compared with 35 per cent a year ago. “We’ll have to make ours look not so mod-ish, more streamlined, more tongue-in-cheek elegant, more Edwardian, more classical,” she said. “Jazzy fabrics are out. I’m making mine with seven-eighths coats and a little fur at the collar. More wintry-looking and sophisticated.”

Mrs. Marx will stress the short pants suit (“not cutie pie like Courreges”) and the flicker suit for fall. “Little boy shorts and a little coat of tiger or zebra worn with a black turtle-neck and black tights and little , boots or a buckled shoe,” she promises.

• Ellen Brooke of Sportswear Couture will increase the number of pants suits in her fall collection because, she admits, she was caught off guard by their popularity. “I can’t understand it,” she said, “but I must acknowledge that the pants suit is part of the terribly chic, urban scene. Some women look pretty damn divine in it. I wouldn’t have thought they would wear it in New York. I don’t know whether they are bored or whether this is their chic form of protest.

“A whole coterie of humanity hasn’t begun to get the message yet. The pants suit has quite a way to go. But unless you have taste and a good behind, you shouldn’t wear it. A woman should be a thing of grace in movement always.”

• Julie Trissell, merchandise manager of Bergdorf Goodman’s third floor, secs the pants suit moving forward, particularly for sport and resort. “I think everyone is tired of the overshirt and pants in print and bright color,” she said. “They want the all-in-one look again.”

At Bergdorf’s, sales of separate slacks have declined as matching suits have soared. “It's the fabric, the look, the fit, the workmanship that count,” she said. “Pants are very difficult. Nobody’s fanny is in the same place.”

[cameronsaunders95]

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Skater XL Review — Ride Like the Wind, Straining the Limits

July 28, 2020 1:00 PM EST

Shred the gnar!

It has been 10 years since Skate 3 released for Xbox 360 and PS3. While it isn’t the best entry in EA’s beloved franchise (Skate 2, baby!), it was the last time we saw a major skateboarding video game release. Sure, Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater HD and Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 5 launched in 2012 and 2015 respectively, but we don’t talk about those dark times. There has been a huge hole in the video game market and it is finally being filled after those 10 long years, starting with Skater XL.

Developed by the California-based team at Easy Day Studios, Skater XL attempts to bring back the simulation style of the Skate franchise, but with its own unique take. It may not be the cleanest landing, with a few frustrating quirks, but it’s certainly a stylish and fun take on a genre I’ve personally missed.

Skateboarding is, in many ways, a form of expression. Everyone has their own style; someone like The Nuge has a more aggressive style than someone like Daewon Song, who is more tech-focused. In Skater XL, that expression is found in its gameplay. It is arguably the most imperative facet of any skateboarding game. Easy Day Studios has crafted a pretty rad trick system that is incredibly expressive, but comes at the cost of some oddities that break the immersion I would want in a sim-style skateboarding game.

Similar to Skate, Skater XL uses the analog sticks to perform tricks. However, the majority of tricks require both sticks, each representing the skater’s feet; the left stick is the left foot and the right stick is the right foot. In order to turn the board, the player has to use the triggers. For example, if I wanted to do a frontside flip in regular stance, I would want to first position the right foot at the tail, which is done by pulling the right stick down. To initiate the flip, I want to let go of the stick to pop the board, and then flick the left stick to the left, producing that kickflip motion. While doing that, I want to pull the left trigger so the skater does the frontside 180.

For the most part, this trick system is very fluid and fun to play around with. It really does feel like skateboarding. This is also in part due to the physics-based nature of the system. The tricks feel and look different depending on how I would flick the sticks. It also looks pretty natural in-motion. There is definitely a learning curve; when I started playing the early access version a few months ago, it took me about an hour to feel comfortable. But once it clicks, the potential for lines in any given map feels endless.

“For the most part, this trick system is very fluid and fun to play around with. It really does feel like skateboarding.”

However, there are times when these tricks don’t look all that natural. The physics-based system is a bit of a double-edged sword. Yes, I was able to produce incredibly natural-looking flips a lot of the time. But sometimes, and especially when I attempted more advanced tricks like 360 inward heelflips or nollie hardflips, the board does some very unnatural motions. Some flips will kind of just find its way to the skater’s feet mid flip, almost like a magnet. It looks very odd, and was a bit of a damper when I was attempting a line repeatedly because a trick just looks so unnatural.

There are also times when the character’s body would bend in ways it probably shouldn’t. One of the more recurring instances of this is when I would do a boardslide and landing fakie. The skater’s knees would bend in before the landing. While I had a good laugh at how this man just broke his knees and then re-popped them back during a trick, it definitely became frustrating when I was trying to create “realistic” looking clips.

However, most of those odd and unnatural occurrences never frustrated me enough to hate the trick system. Since most of the game is finding spots and attempting lines over and over again, it never felt disheartening to restart a line. It also helps that the spawn point tool is useful. If I was unhappy with a line or my skater’s body contorted in some odd way, I was able to go back to the spawn point I placed instantly. I could also replace my spawn point on the fly if I felt like the current spot wasn’t placed well.

One thing that bothered me initially with Skater XL’s gameplay was the most basic of tricks: The ollie. There were two factors that irked me about the fundamental trick when I started playing. The first, there are really only two different ollie heights; the second, the high popping ollie is comically high. It still kind of bothers me now, because ollieing up a curb will always look so ridiculous, but every level seems to be designed with these ollie heights in mind. So, it doesn’t look so ridiculous all the time. Just sometimes.

Again, everything I’ve talked about, when all put together, really makes for a fun experience. The only aspect of Skater XL’s gameplay I really struggled with finding much joy in was with how it handles transition skating. This isn’t a flaw exclusive to this game. Skating on ramps, particularly bowls and halfpipes, in Skate and Session are also not great. I never feel like I’m in control of my skater when I’m on a ramp. For example, let’s say I want to do a frontside flip on a quarter pipe. I figure if I initiate the trick at the top of the ramp, I would then go back down rather than moving forward on top of the ramp. That was not the case. There were times where I did go back down the ramp, and a lot of times I would just move forward.

“One of the most impressive parts of Skater XL is its replay editor. I absolutely cannot stop messing around with it.”

For bigger ramps, like the halfpipe on the big ramp level, I needed to pump to get enough speed to move up the ramp. However, when I did pump, the skater went way too fast, and more often than not, ended up on top of the ramp rather than going back down it. Sometimes the stars would align, and I was able to perform some sick trick, but even then it doesn’t feel as satisfying as street skating.

One of the most impressive parts of Skater XL is its replay editor. I absolutely cannot stop messing around with it. There is a bit of a learning curve, but the menu for the editor is so clean and straightforward, it really doesn’t take too long to start making cool clips. It actually surprised me how easy it was to make a clip that really looked impressive. I may have a few gripes about Skater XL’s gameplay, but the incredible replay editor will be the reason why I’ll always come back and shred at places like Easy Day High School and Downtown L.A.

Speaking of those two locations, the maps in Skater XL are all really fun to skate around. Easy Day High School and Downtown L.A. are easily the best of the eight maps available at launch. They are the largest with some iconic spots, like the Leap of Faith and Staples Center. Heck, there is a level that seems to be an accurate depiction of the West L.A. Courthouse (which you can watch Eric Koston skate on above).

The one map I lost interest in quickly was the big ramp. It is super fun to get crazy air of the wooden goliath, but as I said before, the transition skating just isn’t all that fun. For what it is, it is a fun map to mess around with for a bit, but I would rather skate Easy Day High School over that any day.

There really is a lot to love about Skater XL, but it does lack a robust character creator. All in all, there are 11 different player models. This includes four males, four females, and three pro character models. Also, there are several different hair types, hats, clothing, and boards, some of which are from real-life brands like New Balance, Element, Primitive, and Independent.

Despite having all these different brands, there really wasn’t much variety in the clothing or boards available. Every shirt, bottom, and hat type all fit nearly identical. For example, the unbranded jeans looked exactly like the DC branded jeans, just a different color. There aren’t as many board options, either. There are enough options to make a skater with distinguishable features, just not enough to create one that is wholly unique.

“Skater XL has successfully brought back the skateboarding genre…”

From its fun gameplay to its stellar replay editor, Skater XL is a great game to kick off this resurgence of the skateboarding genre in video games. Really, the only thing standing in the way of this game’s success is whether players can get down with the lack of a progression system or campaign. Yes, there are challenges for each map, but they are really meant for newer players who want to learn the ropes or need some ideas for spots or lines to skate. From what I can tell, everything is unlocked at the start, and the “progression system” is the player’s ability to perform tricks in a manner that is satisfying, kind of like real skateboarding. Personally, I love the loop of finding a spot, committing to a trick, and performing it as clean as possible. That is enough for me. But I can see players becoming disinterested if there isn’t really anything to strive for.

I mentioned this in my interview with Easy Day Studios, but I have essentially waited for a game like this to release before I even started working for DualShockers. The once elusive, but now announced Skate 4, and really the skateboarding genre as a whole, has been part of many E3 editorials I’ve written the past couple of years. It is one of the very few genres I really identify myself with. So, to see a small studio like Easy Day Studios create something that is not only reminiscent of the games that clearly influenced them, but overall improves on what its predecessors did, is heartening. Sure, it has its fair share of flaws, but none of them take away from how much fun I’ve had. Skater XL has successfully brought back the skateboarding genre, and I am eager to see how Easy Day Studios supports the game moving forward.

July 28, 2020 1:00 PM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/07/skater-xl-review-ride-like-the-wind-straining-the-limits/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=skater-xl-review-ride-like-the-wind-straining-the-limits

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Tractors Quotes

Official Website: Tractors Quotes

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• All middle-class novels are about the trials of three, all upper-class novels about mass fornication, all revolutionary novels about a bad man turned good by a tractor. – Christina Stead • Art is no longer snobbish or cowardly. It teaches peasants to use tractors, gives lyrics to young soldiers, designs textiles for factory women’s dresses, writes burlesque for factory theatres, does a hundred other useful tasks. Art is as usueful as bread. – Azar Nafisi

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Tractor', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_tractor').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_tractor img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Cows provide approx 100 million tonnes of dry dung a year costing Rs 5000 crores which saves 50 million tonnes of firewood which again means that many trees saved and more environmental damage prevented. It is calculated that if these 73 million animals were to be replaced, we would need 7.3 million tractors at the cost of 2.5 lac each which would amount to an investment of 180,000 crores. In addition 2 crore, 37 lakh and 50 thousand tonnes of diesel which would mean another 57,000 crore rupees. This is how much we owe these animals, and this is what we stand to lose by killing them. – Maneka Gandhi • Happiness is the twinkle in your grandmother’s eye as you reverse the tractor off her legs. – Hugh Laurie • He (David Beckham) does have a huge one, though. He does. You can see it in the advert. It is all his. It is like a tractor exhaust pipe! – Victoria Beckham • His herding instinct is so strong that he confuses tractors on a baseball field for sheep. He was hospitalized twice. Once by a line drive and once for attacking a tractor tread. – Tom Hayden • How much courage does it take to fire up your tractor and plow under a crop you spent six or seven years growing? How much courage to go on and do that after you’ve spent all that time finding out how to prepare the soil and when to plant and how much to water and when to reap? How much to just say, “I have to quit these peas. Peas are no good for me, I better try corn or beans. – Stephen King • I bought an ant farm. I don’t know where I am going to get a tractor that small! – Steven Wright • I buy a tractor two years ago, and four-fifths of the tractor manual is about not tipping over, not raising the bucket high enough to hit high-tension wire… not killing yourself, basically. And in that manual, I found out – and it cost me a thousand dollars – that when the tractor is new, 10 hours into use of the tractor, you have to re-torque the lug nuts. If you don’t, you will oval the holes. This is buried between the moron warnings. I never found it. I take the tractor in for its regular servicing, and they say my wheels are gone. How am I supposed to know that? “It’s in the manual.” – P. J. O’Rourke • I can’t write on the road. I have to be home. I have to be around all those rusted tractors and dilapidated fences and things like that, because it just grounds me in a way that I can’t find in a hotel room. – John Fullbright • I did as much as I could: raising chickens, pushing an ice-cream cart, bagging walnuts, driving a tractor on a beet farm, working on the railroad. I think this eclectic career helped me a lot in life. – Charles R. Schwab • I didn’t get much peace, but I heard in Norway that Russia might well become a huge market for tractors soon. – Henry Ford • I do not like football, which I think of as a game in which two tractors approach each other from opposite directions and collide. Besides, I have contempt for a game in which players have to wear so much equipment. Men play basketball in their underwear, which seems just right to me. – Anna Quindlen • I don’t know of a better argument in favor of farming with horses than trying to start an old tractor in the winter time. – Gene Logsdon • I dont know how the other senators see me. I hope they see me as a farmer. Thats really what I am. But I dont think they see me on a tractor or fixing equipment. I hope they see me grounded, as somebody who has common sense.- Jon Tester • I drove a tractor almost as soon as I could reach the pedals. – Sheri L. Dew • I had no idea ‘Big Green Tractor’ was going to be as big a hit as it was. You just can’t predict those things. – Jason Aldean • I had to jump on the tractor and do my chores. I would have just killed to be in town, to be able to Rollerblade hand-in-hand with somebody I had a crush on. I just wanted to get off the farm, to find my outlet. – Garrett Hedlund • I have a 60-acre farm in North Carolina, and I have a tractor and a farmhouse. As soon as I groom the land, I want to put cabins around and have a place where people can write and hang out. It’ll be either that or an all-black nudist colony. – Zach Galifianakis • I haven’t seen a tractor working all day. The country has gone sane and got back to horses. Farmers all look worse, but they feel better. – Will Rogers • I remember driving the tractor on our farm, and Tim McGraw would be on the radio. I’d find myself walking out of class, singing his songs. And then Tim ended up playing my father in ‘Friday Night Lights.’ It was surreal. – Garrett Hedlund • I said I would do all the films about the commercials, and the films about ball-bearings and Ford tractors and so on, if once a year they gave me money for a free film. – Karel Reisz • I spend hours mowing the lawn in absolutely straight lines on my tractor. If it’s not right, I do it again. – Britt Ekland • I take my vacation on the combine and tractor. – Jon Tester • I used to help my grandfather on the farm, driving tractors, raising crops and animals. I used to feed some of the baby cows and pigs, and I had to be no older than 7 or 8. Then at about 9 or 10 I started driving tractors. It showed me at an early age what hard work was all about and how dedicated you have to be, no matter what you do. – Tyson Chandler • I used to own an ant farm but had to give it up. I couldn’t find tractors small enough to fit it. – Steven Wright • I was working on the farm to get in shape, about a mile away from my parents. You know, I did everything as a kid to stay in shape – jogging, work on the farm, driving the tractor. I’ll never forget. – Guy Lafleur • I welcome opposing viewpoints, but I should warn you that you’ll be facing off against the 2nd-place finisher at the 1981 Charleston County High-School Debate Tournament. And whatever became of that county champ who argued in favor of tractor safety modifications? Last time I checked, she didn’t have her own show. – Stephen Colbert • I would say my first golf memory was asking who Arnold Palmer was when he was always on the Pennzoil commercials. When I was a little kid I watched a lot of sports, but I didn’t watch a lot of golf, and this guy was always on a tractor. – Mike Greenberg • I’d rather do manual labor than sit behind a desk. And as my grandparents got older, I’d fly out there and help out around the farm. We’d tear barns down; we’d build barns. I’d rather be outside rolling hay or driving the tractors. – Kellan Lutz • If I hadn’t become a golfer, I doubt I’d be wealthy, because I don’t have the sort of ego that drives a person all day long. I might have wound up driving a tractor. – Fuzzy Zoeller • If we were to go back in time 100 years and ask a farmer what he’d like if he could have anything, he’d probably say he wanted a horse that was twice as strong and ate half as many oats. He would not say he wanted a tractor. The point is, technology changes things so fast that many people aren’t sure what the best solutions to their problems might be. – Philip Quigley • If your stomach blocks your view of your feet, cover it up! The only people who should be wearing belly shirts are people who don’t have bellies. Now those little baby spare tires are kinda cute; tractor tires aren’t! Especially if they’ve got hair on them! – Jeff Foxworthy • I’m an outdoor nut. If I’m not working, I’m on a tractor on my farm, hunting, fishing or climbing a mountain. – Jeff Foxworthy • I’m working on a second cookbook and am working on my love story, ‘Black Heels to Tractor Wheels. – Ree Drummond • It is unthinkable to have a British countryside that doesn’t have actual functioning farmers riding tractors, cows in fields, things like that. – Bill Bryson • It’s as if the whole notion of growing soil is something only lunatics would think about. But why not grow soil? Does anything make more sense than growing soil? Isn’t that more important than tractors, trucks, silos, barns, county fairs and country music? Of course it is. And yet to the lion’s share of American farmers, the very notion of growing soil is just plain silly.- Joel Salatin • It’s good way to relax when I come home from the road. When you’re out there on the tractor there’s nobody to bother you. – Sterling Marlin • It’s like if every single male artist dressed up as farmers. In every video they were on a farm. Whether it was Jason Derulo or Oasis, they’re always on a tractor, they’re always surrounded by sheep and always in boots. And all the songs are about enjoying farming, and this is all you’ve had for 10 years – you’d think you were going mad. – Caitlin Moran • It’s us fun being a horse when the tractor comes along, or the blacksmith when the car comes along. – Warren Buffett • James Davison took me out to show me where Karl is living right now and where hes going to build. Karl wasnt at home. He was out there somewhere in the woods riding on some Caterpillar or some kind of tractor. But I figured wed at least knock on the door to see if he was there. His wife answered the door. So we got to meet Kay before Karl. – Terry Bradshaw • Let the Black man go – stop lying to us that you love us. And if you really love us, let us go and give us some of this territory that we can call our own; and give us the billions of dollars that we can get started with land and with tractors and the things that will make us an independent nation. – Louis Farrakhan • Lincolnshire is the Idaho of England. You were either going to drive a tractor for the rest of your life or head for the city to work in a factory. – Bernie Taupin • Maybe I should just go home and ride my tractor. – Chuck Grassley • Most of us stand poised at the edge of brilliance, haunted by the knowledge of our proximity, yet still demonstrably on the wrong side of the line, our dealings with reality undermined by a range of minor yet critical psychological flaws (a little too much optimism, an unprocessed rebelliousness, a fatal impatience or sentimentality). We are like an exquisite high-speed aircraft which for lack of a tiny part is left stranded beside the runway, rendered slower than a tractor or bicycle. – Alain de Botton • My father did get enough money to buy mules. We didn’t have tractors, but he bought mules, wagons, cultivators and some farming equipment. As soon as he bought that and decided to rent some land, because it was always better if you rent the land, but as soon as he got the mules and wagons and everything, somebody went to our trough – a white man who didn’t live very far from us – and he fed the mules Paris Green, put it in their food and it killed the mules and our cows. – Fannie Lou Hamer • My father kept me busy from dawn to dusk when I was a kid. When I wasn’t pitching hay, hauling corn or running a tractor, I was heaving a baseball into his mitt behind the barn… If all the parents in the country followed his rule, juvenile delinquency would be cut in half in a year’s time. – Bob Feller • My mother told me I said to her, at age three, ‘I’m going to go to Italy and get my father in a tractor.’ ‘You’ve never seen quite so fierce a little boy as you were,’ she told me. She tried to explain that I couldn’t get my father in a tractor. Apparently I looked at her and narrowed my eyes and said, ‘In that case, I’m going in a double-decker bus,’ and stomped off. Which is kind of funny, but it’s very sad, as well. – Roger Waters • Of course, it’s always bad to lose, of course it’s always a hardship when you lose to yesterday’s miners or yesterday’s tractor drivers. But life is life. It’ll surely go on. – Vladimir Putin • One of the first sights that shocked me, when I came to Israel in 1921, was an Arab turning over a field with a very primitive plow; pulling the plow were an ox and a woman. Now, if it means that we have destroyed this romantic picture by bringing in tractors, combines, and threshing machines, this is true: we have. – Golda Meir • Programs that pay farmers not to farm often devastate rural areas. The reductions hurt everyone from fertilizer companies to tractor salesmen. – Dick Armey • Some of the environmental lobbyists of the western nations are the salt of the earth, but many of them are elitists. They have never experienced the physical sensation of hunger. They do their lobbying from comfortable office suites in Washington or Brussels. If they lived just one month amid the misery of the developing world, as I have for fifty years, they would be crying out for tractors, and fertilizer, and irrigation canals, and be outraged that fashionable elitists back home were trying to deny them these things. – Norman Borlaug • Sometimes I feel people think I live on a commune but I don’t. We are all solar, though. There are no power lines. It’s mostly farmers, so everyone who has tractors uses bio-diesel. – Woody Harrelson • Technically speaking, you drive like a rabid chicken who has hijacked a tractor. – Sarah Rees Brennan • That stupid saying “What you don’t know can’t hurt you” is ridiculous. What you don’t know can kill you. If you don’t know that tractor trailer trucks hurt when hitting you, then you can play in the middle of the interstate with no fear – but that doesn’t mean you won’t get killed. – Dave Ramsey • That’s life. We all go through the tractor blades now and then. We all get bruised, and we all get cut. Sometimes the blade cuts deep. The lucky ones come through with a few scratches, a little blood, but even that isn’t the most important thing. The most important thing is having someone there to scoop you up, to hold you tight, and to tell you everything is all right. – Vicki Myron • That’s the great thing about a tractor. You can’t really hear the phone ring. – Jeff Foxworthy • That’s where I live, a junkyard in a neighborhood of junkyards. We have three tractors from the 1940s and ’50s, several old pickup trucks, and a pile of scrap metal. – Bonnie Jo Campbell • The basic thing a man should know is how to change a tyre and how to drive a tractor. Whatever that bearded dude is doing on the Dos Equis beer commercials sets the bar. That’s your guy. Every man should be aiming to be like him. The beard is just the tip of the iceberg. – Timothy Olyphant • The infantryman slithers in the mud, while many teams of horses are needed to drag each gun forward. All wheeled vehicles sink up to their axles in the slime. Even tractors can only move with great difficulty. A large portion of our heavy artillery was soon stuck fast… The strain that all this caused our already exhausted troops can perhaps be imagined. – Gunther Blumentritt • The only difference between men and women is that women are able to create new little human beings in their bodies while simultaneously writing books, driving tractors, working in offices, planting crops – in general, doing everything men do. – Erica Jong • The things that don’t happen to us that we’ll never know didn’t happen to us. The nonstories. The extra minute to find the briefcase that makes you late to the spot where a tractor trailer mauled another car instead of yours. The woman you didn’t meet because she couldn’t get a taxi to the party you had to leave early from. All of life is a series of nonstories if you look at it that way. We just don’t know what they are. – Anita Shreve • There are only three things that can kill a farmer: lightning, rolling over in a tractor, and old age. – Bill Bryson • We know that urban farms require less fuel for tractors and transport, but community gardens don’t plant themselves. – Van Jones • Well, I have a farm in Vermont that’s my main residence, where I do lots of digging and mowing, and ride tractors – just so you don’t get the wrong idea that I’m too girlie! – Tim Daly • When a country is in harmony with the Tao, the factories make trucks and tractors. When a country goes counter to the Tao, warheads are stockpiled outside the cities. There is no greater illusion than fear, no greater wrong than preparing to defend yourself, no greater misfortune than having an enemy. Whoever can see through all fear will always be safe. – Laozi • When I was still at school, I’d help Dad at the concrete yard he had prior to the garden centre. I was doing things there, like driving the tractors and forklifts, that most kids my age couldn’t. – Rick Astley • When will they make a tractor that can furnish the manure for farm fields and produce a baby tractor every spring? – George Erik Rupp • Why does a three-year-old, and it’s usually boys, want to drive the tractor or have machinery and be in control of it? I don’t know. Why wouldn’t you ask to boil a kettle or something? Maybe you would, I dunno. – Michael Fassbender • You can tell this by the program the federal government had to train 2,400 tractor drivers. They would have trained Negro and white together, but this man, Congressman Jamie Whitten, voted against it and everything that was decent. So, we’ve got to have somebody in Washington who is concerned about the people of Mississippi. – Fannie Lou Hamer • You know, when Arnold Palmer came on TV with an old tractor and told me to buy Pennzoil, I bought that, and when Dale Jarrett advertises UPS, I can go along with that, too. But I don’t think having an 18-year-old, somebody who’s probably gotten five packages in his life and they were all ‘Girls Gone Wild’ videos, tell me what delivery service I should use would have much effect on me. – Kyle Petty • You might be a redneck if on your first date you had to ask your Dad to borrow the keys to the tractor. – Jeff Foxworthy

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Tractors Quotes

Official Website: Tractors Quotes

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• All middle-class novels are about the trials of three, all upper-class novels about mass fornication, all revolutionary novels about a bad man turned good by a tractor. – Christina Stead • Art is no longer snobbish or cowardly. It teaches peasants to use tractors, gives lyrics to young soldiers, designs textiles for factory women’s dresses, writes burlesque for factory theatres, does a hundred other useful tasks. Art is as usueful as bread. – Azar Nafisi

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Tractor', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_tractor').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_tractor img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Cows provide approx 100 million tonnes of dry dung a year costing Rs 5000 crores which saves 50 million tonnes of firewood which again means that many trees saved and more environmental damage prevented. It is calculated that if these 73 million animals were to be replaced, we would need 7.3 million tractors at the cost of 2.5 lac each which would amount to an investment of 180,000 crores. In addition 2 crore, 37 lakh and 50 thousand tonnes of diesel which would mean another 57,000 crore rupees. This is how much we owe these animals, and this is what we stand to lose by killing them. – Maneka Gandhi • Happiness is the twinkle in your grandmother’s eye as you reverse the tractor off her legs. – Hugh Laurie • He (David Beckham) does have a huge one, though. He does. You can see it in the advert. It is all his. It is like a tractor exhaust pipe! – Victoria Beckham • His herding instinct is so strong that he confuses tractors on a baseball field for sheep. He was hospitalized twice. Once by a line drive and once for attacking a tractor tread. – Tom Hayden • How much courage does it take to fire up your tractor and plow under a crop you spent six or seven years growing? How much courage to go on and do that after you’ve spent all that time finding out how to prepare the soil and when to plant and how much to water and when to reap? How much to just say, “I have to quit these peas. Peas are no good for me, I better try corn or beans. – Stephen King • I bought an ant farm. I don’t know where I am going to get a tractor that small! – Steven Wright • I buy a tractor two years ago, and four-fifths of the tractor manual is about not tipping over, not raising the bucket high enough to hit high-tension wire… not killing yourself, basically. And in that manual, I found out – and it cost me a thousand dollars – that when the tractor is new, 10 hours into use of the tractor, you have to re-torque the lug nuts. If you don’t, you will oval the holes. This is buried between the moron warnings. I never found it. I take the tractor in for its regular servicing, and they say my wheels are gone. How am I supposed to know that? “It’s in the manual.” – P. J. O’Rourke • I can’t write on the road. I have to be home. I have to be around all those rusted tractors and dilapidated fences and things like that, because it just grounds me in a way that I can’t find in a hotel room. – John Fullbright • I did as much as I could: raising chickens, pushing an ice-cream cart, bagging walnuts, driving a tractor on a beet farm, working on the railroad. I think this eclectic career helped me a lot in life. – Charles R. Schwab • I didn’t get much peace, but I heard in Norway that Russia might well become a huge market for tractors soon. – Henry Ford • I do not like football, which I think of as a game in which two tractors approach each other from opposite directions and collide. Besides, I have contempt for a game in which players have to wear so much equipment. Men play basketball in their underwear, which seems just right to me. – Anna Quindlen • I don’t know of a better argument in favor of farming with horses than trying to start an old tractor in the winter time. – Gene Logsdon • I dont know how the other senators see me. I hope they see me as a farmer. Thats really what I am. But I dont think they see me on a tractor or fixing equipment. I hope they see me grounded, as somebody who has common sense.- Jon Tester • I drove a tractor almost as soon as I could reach the pedals. – Sheri L. Dew • I had no idea ‘Big Green Tractor’ was going to be as big a hit as it was. You just can’t predict those things. – Jason Aldean • I had to jump on the tractor and do my chores. I would have just killed to be in town, to be able to Rollerblade hand-in-hand with somebody I had a crush on. I just wanted to get off the farm, to find my outlet. – Garrett Hedlund • I have a 60-acre farm in North Carolina, and I have a tractor and a farmhouse. As soon as I groom the land, I want to put cabins around and have a place where people can write and hang out. It’ll be either that or an all-black nudist colony. – Zach Galifianakis • I haven’t seen a tractor working all day. The country has gone sane and got back to horses. Farmers all look worse, but they feel better. – Will Rogers • I remember driving the tractor on our farm, and Tim McGraw would be on the radio. I’d find myself walking out of class, singing his songs. And then Tim ended up playing my father in ‘Friday Night Lights.’ It was surreal. – Garrett Hedlund • I said I would do all the films about the commercials, and the films about ball-bearings and Ford tractors and so on, if once a year they gave me money for a free film. – Karel Reisz • I spend hours mowing the lawn in absolutely straight lines on my tractor. If it’s not right, I do it again. – Britt Ekland • I take my vacation on the combine and tractor. – Jon Tester • I used to help my grandfather on the farm, driving tractors, raising crops and animals. I used to feed some of the baby cows and pigs, and I had to be no older than 7 or 8. Then at about 9 or 10 I started driving tractors. It showed me at an early age what hard work was all about and how dedicated you have to be, no matter what you do. – Tyson Chandler • I used to own an ant farm but had to give it up. I couldn’t find tractors small enough to fit it. – Steven Wright • I was working on the farm to get in shape, about a mile away from my parents. You know, I did everything as a kid to stay in shape – jogging, work on the farm, driving the tractor. I’ll never forget. – Guy Lafleur • I welcome opposing viewpoints, but I should warn you that you’ll be facing off against the 2nd-place finisher at the 1981 Charleston County High-School Debate Tournament. And whatever became of that county champ who argued in favor of tractor safety modifications? Last time I checked, she didn’t have her own show. – Stephen Colbert • I would say my first golf memory was asking who Arnold Palmer was when he was always on the Pennzoil commercials. When I was a little kid I watched a lot of sports, but I didn’t watch a lot of golf, and this guy was always on a tractor. – Mike Greenberg • I’d rather do manual labor than sit behind a desk. And as my grandparents got older, I’d fly out there and help out around the farm. We’d tear barns down; we’d build barns. I’d rather be outside rolling hay or driving the tractors. – Kellan Lutz • If I hadn’t become a golfer, I doubt I’d be wealthy, because I don’t have the sort of ego that drives a person all day long. I might have wound up driving a tractor. – Fuzzy Zoeller • If we were to go back in time 100 years and ask a farmer what he’d like if he could have anything, he’d probably say he wanted a horse that was twice as strong and ate half as many oats. He would not say he wanted a tractor. The point is, technology changes things so fast that many people aren’t sure what the best solutions to their problems might be. – Philip Quigley • If your stomach blocks your view of your feet, cover it up! The only people who should be wearing belly shirts are people who don’t have bellies. Now those little baby spare tires are kinda cute; tractor tires aren’t! Especially if they’ve got hair on them! – Jeff Foxworthy • I’m an outdoor nut. If I’m not working, I’m on a tractor on my farm, hunting, fishing or climbing a mountain. – Jeff Foxworthy • I’m working on a second cookbook and am working on my love story, ‘Black Heels to Tractor Wheels. – Ree Drummond • It is unthinkable to have a British countryside that doesn’t have actual functioning farmers riding tractors, cows in fields, things like that. – Bill Bryson • It’s as if the whole notion of growing soil is something only lunatics would think about. But why not grow soil? Does anything make more sense than growing soil? Isn’t that more important than tractors, trucks, silos, barns, county fairs and country music? Of course it is. And yet to the lion’s share of American farmers, the very notion of growing soil is just plain silly.- Joel Salatin • It’s good way to relax when I come home from the road. When you’re out there on the tractor there’s nobody to bother you. – Sterling Marlin • It’s like if every single male artist dressed up as farmers. In every video they were on a farm. Whether it was Jason Derulo or Oasis, they’re always on a tractor, they’re always surrounded by sheep and always in boots. And all the songs are about enjoying farming, and this is all you’ve had for 10 years – you’d think you were going mad. – Caitlin Moran • It’s us fun being a horse when the tractor comes along, or the blacksmith when the car comes along. – Warren Buffett • James Davison took me out to show me where Karl is living right now and where hes going to build. Karl wasnt at home. He was out there somewhere in the woods riding on some Caterpillar or some kind of tractor. But I figured wed at least knock on the door to see if he was there. His wife answered the door. So we got to meet Kay before Karl. – Terry Bradshaw • Let the Black man go – stop lying to us that you love us. And if you really love us, let us go and give us some of this territory that we can call our own; and give us the billions of dollars that we can get started with land and with tractors and the things that will make us an independent nation. – Louis Farrakhan • Lincolnshire is the Idaho of England. You were either going to drive a tractor for the rest of your life or head for the city to work in a factory. – Bernie Taupin • Maybe I should just go home and ride my tractor. – Chuck Grassley • Most of us stand poised at the edge of brilliance, haunted by the knowledge of our proximity, yet still demonstrably on the wrong side of the line, our dealings with reality undermined by a range of minor yet critical psychological flaws (a little too much optimism, an unprocessed rebelliousness, a fatal impatience or sentimentality). We are like an exquisite high-speed aircraft which for lack of a tiny part is left stranded beside the runway, rendered slower than a tractor or bicycle. – Alain de Botton • My father did get enough money to buy mules. We didn’t have tractors, but he bought mules, wagons, cultivators and some farming equipment. As soon as he bought that and decided to rent some land, because it was always better if you rent the land, but as soon as he got the mules and wagons and everything, somebody went to our trough – a white man who didn’t live very far from us – and he fed the mules Paris Green, put it in their food and it killed the mules and our cows. – Fannie Lou Hamer • My father kept me busy from dawn to dusk when I was a kid. When I wasn’t pitching hay, hauling corn or running a tractor, I was heaving a baseball into his mitt behind the barn… If all the parents in the country followed his rule, juvenile delinquency would be cut in half in a year’s time. – Bob Feller • My mother told me I said to her, at age three, ‘I’m going to go to Italy and get my father in a tractor.’ ‘You’ve never seen quite so fierce a little boy as you were,’ she told me. She tried to explain that I couldn’t get my father in a tractor. Apparently I looked at her and narrowed my eyes and said, ‘In that case, I’m going in a double-decker bus,’ and stomped off. Which is kind of funny, but it’s very sad, as well. – Roger Waters • Of course, it’s always bad to lose, of course it’s always a hardship when you lose to yesterday’s miners or yesterday’s tractor drivers. But life is life. It’ll surely go on. – Vladimir Putin • One of the first sights that shocked me, when I came to Israel in 1921, was an Arab turning over a field with a very primitive plow; pulling the plow were an ox and a woman. Now, if it means that we have destroyed this romantic picture by bringing in tractors, combines, and threshing machines, this is true: we have. – Golda Meir • Programs that pay farmers not to farm often devastate rural areas. The reductions hurt everyone from fertilizer companies to tractor salesmen. – Dick Armey • Some of the environmental lobbyists of the western nations are the salt of the earth, but many of them are elitists. They have never experienced the physical sensation of hunger. They do their lobbying from comfortable office suites in Washington or Brussels. If they lived just one month amid the misery of the developing world, as I have for fifty years, they would be crying out for tractors, and fertilizer, and irrigation canals, and be outraged that fashionable elitists back home were trying to deny them these things. – Norman Borlaug • Sometimes I feel people think I live on a commune but I don’t. We are all solar, though. There are no power lines. It’s mostly farmers, so everyone who has tractors uses bio-diesel. – Woody Harrelson • Technically speaking, you drive like a rabid chicken who has hijacked a tractor. – Sarah Rees Brennan • That stupid saying “What you don’t know can’t hurt you” is ridiculous. What you don’t know can kill you. If you don’t know that tractor trailer trucks hurt when hitting you, then you can play in the middle of the interstate with no fear – but that doesn’t mean you won’t get killed. – Dave Ramsey • That’s life. We all go through the tractor blades now and then. We all get bruised, and we all get cut. Sometimes the blade cuts deep. The lucky ones come through with a few scratches, a little blood, but even that isn’t the most important thing. The most important thing is having someone there to scoop you up, to hold you tight, and to tell you everything is all right. – Vicki Myron • That’s the great thing about a tractor. You can’t really hear the phone ring. – Jeff Foxworthy • That’s where I live, a junkyard in a neighborhood of junkyards. We have three tractors from the 1940s and ’50s, several old pickup trucks, and a pile of scrap metal. – Bonnie Jo Campbell • The basic thing a man should know is how to change a tyre and how to drive a tractor. Whatever that bearded dude is doing on the Dos Equis beer commercials sets the bar. That’s your guy. Every man should be aiming to be like him. The beard is just the tip of the iceberg. – Timothy Olyphant • The infantryman slithers in the mud, while many teams of horses are needed to drag each gun forward. All wheeled vehicles sink up to their axles in the slime. Even tractors can only move with great difficulty. A large portion of our heavy artillery was soon stuck fast… The strain that all this caused our already exhausted troops can perhaps be imagined. – Gunther Blumentritt • The only difference between men and women is that women are able to create new little human beings in their bodies while simultaneously writing books, driving tractors, working in offices, planting crops – in general, doing everything men do. – Erica Jong • The things that don’t happen to us that we’ll never know didn’t happen to us. The nonstories. The extra minute to find the briefcase that makes you late to the spot where a tractor trailer mauled another car instead of yours. The woman you didn’t meet because she couldn’t get a taxi to the party you had to leave early from. All of life is a series of nonstories if you look at it that way. We just don’t know what they are. – Anita Shreve • There are only three things that can kill a farmer: lightning, rolling over in a tractor, and old age. – Bill Bryson • We know that urban farms require less fuel for tractors and transport, but community gardens don���t plant themselves. – Van Jones • Well, I have a farm in Vermont that’s my main residence, where I do lots of digging and mowing, and ride tractors – just so you don’t get the wrong idea that I’m too girlie! – Tim Daly • When a country is in harmony with the Tao, the factories make trucks and tractors. When a country goes counter to the Tao, warheads are stockpiled outside the cities. There is no greater illusion than fear, no greater wrong than preparing to defend yourself, no greater misfortune than having an enemy. Whoever can see through all fear will always be safe. – Laozi • When I was still at school, I’d help Dad at the concrete yard he had prior to the garden centre. I was doing things there, like driving the tractors and forklifts, that most kids my age couldn’t. – Rick Astley • When will they make a tractor that can furnish the manure for farm fields and produce a baby tractor every spring? – George Erik Rupp • Why does a three-year-old, and it’s usually boys, want to drive the tractor or have machinery and be in control of it? I don’t know. Why wouldn’t you ask to boil a kettle or something? Maybe you would, I dunno. – Michael Fassbender • You can tell this by the program the federal government had to train 2,400 tractor drivers. They would have trained Negro and white together, but this man, Congressman Jamie Whitten, voted against it and everything that was decent. So, we’ve got to have somebody in Washington who is concerned about the people of Mississippi. – Fannie Lou Hamer • You know, when Arnold Palmer came on TV with an old tractor and told me to buy Pennzoil, I bought that, and when Dale Jarrett advertises UPS, I can go along with that, too. But I don’t think having an 18-year-old, somebody who’s probably gotten five packages in his life and they were all ‘Girls Gone Wild’ videos, tell me what delivery service I should use would have much effect on me. – Kyle Petty • You might be a redneck if on your first date you had to ask your Dad to borrow the keys to the tractor. – Jeff Foxworthy

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jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );