#Importing from Bolivia

[troythecatfish]

[nonasuch]

IT IS TIME: Miss Universe National Costume 2023

it's here! the Met Gala for people who actually understand what camp is!

yes I'm like 3 months late, but I sat down and watched the damn thing. I put up with the horrible little rhyming couplets for each contestant so you don't have to. and without further ado:

Albania: Starting off very Victoria’s Secret this year! Apparently it’s gold for important symbolism reasons, not just because everything in this competition is blinged out to within an inch of its life. The wings do look nice in motion!

Angola has a good balance of bling, actual cultural dress, and oh hey it has surprise bonus art on the back! That will be a theme this year.

Argentina: Why is there a guy in a hat right down at the bottom edge of her cape. He looks like he’s staring at her butt. How does this represent their flag.

Aruba: This is fine. I like the coral. She thinks climate change is bad. Her parrot is clearly way too heavy to hold up and it wobbles like crazy in motion.

Australia: This is now multiple years in a row that Australia has just worn a fucking prom dress. It’s got native wildflowers on. You could have made this exact same dress with a Great Barrier Reef theme and I would have liked it 80% more.

Bahamas: This costume is allegedly based on a 19th-century doll from the Bahamas “world famous straw market,” which is already bullshit; I googled “bahamas straw market antique doll” and like. they both have big skirts? I guess? Anyway now I’m too distracted by the way she has a hoop skirt awkwardly jammed under there and hiked up on one side. Minus ten for poor construction.

Bahrain's theme is “Bahrain’s pearl heritage,” which like. I guess? The headdress and yoke are pretty. Put more pearls on the actual outfit. Kudos for getting to wear pants.

Belgium: Girl. No. Why is your theme “Latin dance” and why are you wearing a spangly cocktail dress with a totally unrelated piece of fabric fluttering behind it? (Apparently the fabric was designed by a member of Belgium’s royal family? Who is a fashion designer? This is what nepotism gets you.)

Bolivia saw Aruba’s parrot and was like, I can do that better. And she was right! It’s way less wobbly and the costume as a whole does work better. Also made from recycled materials, so we’ll see if that’s a theme again this year. The back of the cape is nice too.

Sadly, Bolivia's parrot supremacy was short-lived, because Brazil was like, bitch please. I see your sad little parrots and raise you FOUR giant parrots, and also the shoulder parrots are articulated and can turn their heads back and forth. I think Brazil wins the parrot competition that only she knew she was in.

[astrobiscuits]

Astro obs part 9

🐌 The planets in your 12th house indicate your sleeping style:

Sun in 12th house - their sleep schedule is extremely messed up; for them, daylight hours = nighttime hours and vice versa, so they have trouble being themselves during the day; their true self comes out at night

Moon in 12th house - goes to sleep very late; full moons have a special effect on these people; their intuition is more clear at night; as kids, they probably slept a lot with their mother

Mercury in 12th house - loves texting/calling people late at night; they might journal their thoughts before sleep because they overthink a lot and it helps to clear their mind or maybe they just like to relax by reading a book at night

Venus in 12th house - cares a lot about getting their "beauty sleep"; sleeps with sleep masks on, buys expensive bed lingerie, skincare night routine might be very important; loves sleeping in general lmao

Mars in 12th house - enjoys working out before going to sleep, can go to sleep angry because they tend to get into conflict more at night than during the day

I have Uranus in 12th house and i can be both a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper, depending on where i am. For example, when i'm traveling, during the first night i wake up several times, but from the second night on i sleep like a baby lmao. Another thing would be that i can't sleep in a quiet car but i don't have any problem sleeping during a thunderstorm

🐌 Mars in fire signs (Aries, Leo, Sag) and Mars in 3rd house individuals love riding motorbikess

🐌 While Mars in 9th house peeps would probably love to go on a world tour on their motorbike. The sign ruling their 9th house represents the countries they would love to visit (i'm aware that some of these can only be visited by plane, take it with a grain of salt): 

♈ in 9th house: Ireland, Poland, Japan, Zimbabwe

♉ in 9th house: Cuba, Paraguay, South Africa, East Timor

♊ in 9th house: Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Iceland, Montenegro

♋ in 9th house: Canada, USA, Bahamas, Argentina, Slovenia, Madagascar

♌ in 9th house: Hawaii, France, Italy, The Netherlands, India, South Korea, Peru, Bolivia

♍ in 9th house: Switzerland, Mexico, Brazil, Chile, Vietnam

♎ in 9th house: Belgium, Portugal, China, Equatorial Guinea, Lesotho

♏ in 9th house: Panama, Spain, Turkey, Arab countries (Saudi Arabia, UAE), Palestine, Lebanon

♐ in 9th house: Finland, Lithuania, Romania, Tanzania, Thailand

♑ in 9th house: UK, Germany, Czech Republic, Australia, Camerun

♒ in 9th house: Greece, New Zealand, Philippines, Singapore, Sri Lanka

♓ in 9th house: Morocco, Tunisia, Egypt, Mauritius, Saint Lucia

🐌 I have a feeling Pisces Suns like to spend their time in a garage lmao. Mostly because their opposing sign, Virgo, would hate to spend time in a garage due to how dirty it can get.

🐌As a 7th house Sun who's been in love for almost a year now (haha, are we surprised, ofcours not; i'm not even in a relationship with him but ugh we're so perfect for each other), i realised that Sun in 7th house people tend to behave differently with their partner when they're in a healthy relationship vs when they're in a toxic one

Sun in 7th house in:

♈ Aries in a healthy relationship: empowers their partner, knows how to balance me time vs us time in a healthy manner, encourages their partner to take safe risks

♈ Aries in an unhealthy relationship: impulsive, impatient, selfish, dismisses their partner's feelings, often controlled by rage, prone to abusing their partner

♉ Taurus in a healthy relationship: veryyy generous (their love language is gift giving), accommodating to their partner's wants and needs, cooks for their partner

♉ Taurus in an unhealthy relationship: stubborn af, hard to please, focused more on the material gain from their partner rather than the love they share

♊ Gemini in a healthy relationship: curious, always lightens the mood of their partner by cracking up tons of jokes or telling them funny stories, knows that communication is key to everything so they're not afraid to discuss serious topics, teaches their partner a lot of random stuff

♊ Gemini in an unhealthy relationship: superficial, doesn't have a problem moving on from their partner to another person in a matter of seconds, if they're still in school/college, then they prioritize studying over their partner

♋ Cancer in a healthy relationship: nurturing, knows how to balance babying their partner vs being babied by their partner, emotionally vulnerable, feels safe enough to present their partner to their family early on in the relationship

♋ Cancer in a unhealthy relationship: if they don't trust their partner, they tend to become emotionally closed off to hide their deep sadness; defensive, but if their partner attackes them, then they'll hide, worries excessively, avoids presenting their partner to their family

♌ Leo in a healthy relationship: treats their partner like the king/queen they are, keeps their ego in check so it doesn't interfere with the relationship, if they've got artistic talents (music, acting, art etc.), they'll show their love for their partner by performing in front of them

♌ Leo in an unhealthy relationship: egocentric, shows off their partner/relationship too much out of pride, often feels entitled in the relationship and wants to be put on a pedestal by their partner

♍ Virgo in a healthy relationship: selfless to a healthy degree, remembers every lil detail from every casual conversations with their partner just to please them, remembers every important date and plans ahead for it, takes care of their partner when they're sick

♍ Virgo in a unhealthy relationship: critical, overfixates on past hurts and mistakes that their partner made in the relationship (often times their partner doesn't even remember those things because they're usually not that serious), loves their pets more than their partner

♎ Libra in a healthy relationship: romantic, charismatic, truly values their partner and the relationship with them, acts fair in the relationship, teaches their partner lovingly about the importance of honesty, truth and a healthy give and take dynamic in a relationship

♎ Libra in an unhealthy relationship: doesn't prioritize the relationship; instead, they flirt with others despite being in a relationship, emotionally detached, cold and calculated in their current relationship

♏ Scorpio in a healthy relationship: loyal, loves their partner deeply and intensely, but without suffocating them, keeps their partner's secrets like they're a locked safe box with no public access

♏ Scorpio in an unhealthy relationship: obsessive, manipulative, seeks to dominate their partner, displays stalkish behaviour in the relationship, liar

♐ Sagittarius in a healthy relationship: exposes their partner to various cultures, belief systems and philosophies to expand their mind and form their own opinion on certain topics, loves freely but is still able to maintain a long-term relationship, improves their partner's mood, usually brings an element of surprise and excitement to the relationship

♐ Sagittarius in an unhealthy relationship: travels in order to avoid dealing with their partner, parties a bit too much, doesn't take the relationship seriously

♑ Capricorn in a healthy relationship: loves their partner in a mature, serious and secure manner, doesn't shy away from improving their partner's social status and/or career if they can, discusses plans for the future (getting married, having kids, adopting pets, buying a house) with their partner early on in the relationship, they make time for their partner, despite the fact that they're busy most of the time

♑ Capricorn in an unhealthy relationship: displays no emotions or physical affection in the relationship, has a hard time communicating their thoughts with their partner, settles in a relationship for the wrong reasons (money/kids/safety/"i'm getting old and i need to have my life established"), prioritizes work/career over their partner

♒ Aquarius in a healthy relationship: flexible, makes their partner's dreams and aspirations come true (whether they're related to the relationship or not), has got a very open-minded attitude towards their partner's opinions, lifestyle and identity, takes the time to become friends firsts with their future partner because they value a relationship built on solid foundation (often times their partner is also their best friend), knows how to balance couple time vs time with friends

♒ Aquarius in an unhealthy relationship: displays wishy-washy behaviour, emotionally detached, prioritizes their friends over their partner, seeks online validation from strangers and acquaintances to fulfill their needs

♓ Pisces in a healthy relationship: sensitive to their partner's emotions, knows how to balance wearing their heart on their sleeve vs hiding their emotions in unfavourable circumstances, always honest with their partner

♓ Pisces in an unhealthy relationship: prone to drown their relationship problems and sorrows in alcohol, drugs and meds for mental health issues, runs away from problems instead of dealing with them with their partner, displays dishonesty to a fault, prone to self-sabotage

[sayruq]

In Oct, European leaders lined up to support Israel's war on Gaza. By that point, hundreds of Palestinians had been killed in airstrikes. There was a worry among some officials that by doing this, they will end up alienated from the global south

That fear has come to fruition as countries like Bolivia cut diplomatic ties, South Africa took Israel to the ICJ, Yemen has blockaded the Red Sea (is now regularly attacking American and British warships), Malaysia has banned all Israeli ships from its ports, etc.

Here's the latest example. The EU organised the Indo-Pacific Ministerial Forum. It was a disaster for many reasons (7 European foreign ministers didn't bother to show up) but the important issue was Gaza

Simple put Israel, the EU and America will not escape accountability for what they've done to Gaza

[commajade]

finally watched watched my brothers and sisters in the north when it's been in my to-watch list for years and it was so touching and so beautiful.

the people interviewed were of course handpicked and have better conditions than other people because of the impact of U.S. sanctions and such, but it genuinely inspired me how hard-earned their good living conditions are. the farmers had to work really hard to re-establish agriculture after the war and now they get so much food a year they donate most of it to the state because they simply don't need it. the girl at the sewing factory loves her job and gets paid with 14 kilos of food a month on top of her wages. the water park worker is proud of his job because 20,000 of his people can come and enjoy themselves every day, and Kim Jong-un himself took part in designing it and came by at 2am during construction to make sure everything was going smoothly. his grandmother's father was a revolutionary who was executed and buried in a mass grave in seoul but in the dprk he has a memorial bust in a place of honor and his family gets a nice apartment in pyongyang for free.

imperialist propaganda always points to the kim family as a dictatorship and a cult of personality but from this docu it's so obvious that it's genuine gratitude for real work for the people, and simple korean respect. if my president came to my work and tried his best to make my working conditions better and to make my life better, i would call him a dear leader too. if my president invented machines and designed amusement parks and went to farms all over the country to improve conditions for the people, i would respect him.

the spirit of juche is in self-reliance, unity of the people, and creative adaptations to circumstances. the docu rly exemplified the ideology in things like the human and animal waste methane systems powering farmers' houses along with solar panels, how they figured out how to build tractors instead of accepting unstable foreign import relationships, and how the water park uses a geothermal heating system.

it rly made me cry at the end when the grandma and her grandson were talking about reunification. the people of the dprk live every day of their lives dreaming of reunification and working for reunification, and it's an intergenerational goal that they inherited from their parents and grandparents. the man said he was so happy to see someone from the south, and that even though reunification would have its own obstacles that we have the same blood the same language the same interests so no matter what if we have the same heart it would be okay.

and the grandma said "when reunification happens, come see me." and it's so upsetting that not even 10 years later, the state has been pushed into somewhat giving up on this hope. the dprk closed down the reunification department of the government last year and it broke my heart.

a really good pairing with the 2016 film is this 2013 interview with ambassador Thae Youngho to clarify political realities in the dprk and the ongoing U.S. hostility that has shaped the country's global image. the interviewer Carlos Martinez asks a lot of excellent questions and the interview goes into their military policy, nuclear weapons, U.S. violence and sanctions, and the dprk's historical solidarity with middle eastern countries like syria and palestine and central/south american countries like nicaragua, bolivia, and cuba.

[joblrcensus]

it’s time for the JOblr census results 🧡🙌

before we start i want to thank everyone who took their time to answer this silly little project, gathering responses from 203 baby boos!! it’s my first time doing this so hopefully i can bring some excitement with the results <3

so buckle up and let’s get into it

general questions

Which continent are you from?

Unsurprisingly, the majority is European with a total of 80.8% but it’s amazing to see that they’ve crossed the continent’s border and we also have 9.9% people from North America, 3.9% from Australia & Oceania, 3.4% from Asia and 2% from South America. No person chose the Africa option.

Which country are you from? (optional)

With this being an optional question, 162 respondents out of 203 opted to answer it. Let’s take a look at the top countries by number of people in JOblr (small note: I counted the few people who wrote England or Scotland as part of the UK answer)

Drumrolls 🥁…..

Finland - 29

UK & USA - 15

Germany - 11

Poland - 9

Italy - 8

Australia - 7

Sweden - 6

Austria, Spain, The Netherlands - 5

Croatia, Slovenia - 4

Czechia, France, Romania - 3

Belgium, Canada, Denmark, Hungary, Lithuania, Norway, Philippines, Portugal, Ukraine - 2

Bolivia, Brazil, China, Estonia, Greece, Iceland, India, Luxembourg, Malta, Mexico, Russia, Switzerland - 1

How old are you?

45.8% of us are between 18-25, following by 23.6% between 26-30, 18.2% between 31-45, 10.8% under 18 and two people who are over 45 years old.

Are you part of the LGBTQ+ community?

Remember when they said Joker Out are for the girls and gays? 🏳️‍🌈

Well that was absolutely not wrong since 77.3% baby boos answered that yes they are part of the community, while 11.8% are questioning and 10.8% have answered no

tumblr activity questions

How do you participate on JOblr?

a majority of 98 people are mostly reblogging posts in the fandom but sometimes making posts of their own, 38 are only reblogging while 36 lurkers have stepped out of the shadow and made themselves known. The least amount of people (31) said to be active posters

Do you post any of the following?

It’s already known this fandom is mad talented and entertaining!! It’s always a joy seeing everyone’s creations and posts no matter the type. And the people who are only enjoying and supporting the content are just as important 🫶

Do you also post about Käärijä?

Since these two fandoms are basically overlapping, sometimes even seen as one fandom, I was curious just how much

50.7% also post about Käärijä outside of Joker Out, while 35% don’t post about him at all (or perhaps very rarely). 14.3% are mainly coming from Käärijä’s fandom

joker out questions

How did you find out about Joker Out?

Another unsurprising result, with 89.7% of us finding out about them through Eurovision. But it was really cool to see that there are people who discovered them differently. Ten people found out about them through Tumblr or other social media, to four they were recommended by someone and one through a music platform. The “other” option was chosen as well and included:

finding out about JO through Käärijä

through a music blog review

on slovenian radio

Who from the current members is your favorite?

One of the hardest questions but it had to be done

So Tumblr’s top favorite members areee:

Bojan - 69 votes

Jan - 42 votes

Kris - 40 votes

Nace - 35 votes

Jure - 17 votes

Have you been to a Joker Out concert?

I did not expect this one to be so balanced but I am pleasantly surprised! 104 people have been to a JO concert, while 99 haven’t. It often feels like you’re the only person who hasn’t seen them live yet but it’s nice to see that you’re not alone, so if anyone feels the same don’t worry our time will come too 🥹

If you answered yes, have you seen them multiple times?

Out of the 104 people who previously answered yes, there’s still a balance between those who have been to only one concert and those who have been to multiple

If you’re into RPF, which one of the most popular ships (according to AO3) is your favorite?

Another optional question where 181 out of 203 opted to respond to.

Oh boy, ooooh boy this was a tough battle. It felt like I was watching a horse race. I can tell you that all three ships have been at some point in the first place, or even equal. Are you ready to see the most interesting result yet?

Drumrolls again 🥁…….

BoJere - 58 votes

BoKris - 57 votes

Jance - 56 votes

The “other” option was also chosen and the following ships were included:

BoMartin

Jan/Jure

Kris/Jure

Nace/Kris

Nace/Jere

poly!JO

aaaand that’s it, you made it to the end 🫶 hope you enjoyed and why not see you on the next census!!

[cypherdecypher]

Animal of the Day!

Chilean Tiger Spider (Scytodes globula)

(Photo from iNaturalist)

Conservation Status- Unlisted

Habitat- Chile; Argentina; Uruguay; Bolivia

Size (Weight/Length)- 50 mm

Diet- Insects; Recluse spiders

Cool Facts- The Chilean tiger spider has one of the craziest hunting methods I’ve ever seen. Also called the spitting spider, they are capable of spraying high velocity webs from their abdomen. After prey is immobilized from the sprayed web, the Chilean tiger spider injects it with venom. Having a ranged attack allows the Chilean tiger spider to be the only natural predator of the Chilean recluse spider. Outside of eating recluse spiders, they are also important for pest management of mosquitoes and biting flies. Chilean tiger spiders have never been medically recorded to bite a human as they only use their venom while hunting. When faced with a larger threat, they would prefer to run.

Rating- 12/10 (Their scientific name translates to leathery globe, after their abdomen.)

Requested by Anonymous

[little-pondhead]

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 3: #228B22

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

-

Damian was still being watched. The summer storm had well and passed, but the eyes he felt on the back of his neck were persistent, following him no matter where he went. He drove himself mad, tearing his room and the rest of Wayne Manor apart for bugs, asked Oracle to scan the city while he patrolled, and even pulled in a favor with some magic users to ensure he wasn't being haunted. Nothing! It was concerning his family, but Damian didn't care. He kept himself surrounded by others at all times whenever he left the house. Something was out there, ready for him to be truly alone. He didn't want to give them the opportunity.

The day came when he was assigned to patrol with Orphan since Batman was with the League but was separated due to the Riddler's schemes. They had solved the riddle already, thankfully, but Damian was intercepted while on his way to their meet-up point.

Pru, a former League assassin, caught his attention from one of Gotham's rooftops, and he swung down to meet her.

“Assassin,” was his only greeting. Damian was not a fool. No matter what had happened between Pru and Drake, she was still dangerous. He drew his sword easily and pointed it at her neck, reminding her that he was still a threat as well.

Pru didn’t look too happy to see him either. “Don’t give me that shit, Robin,” she snarled. “I’m just here to pass on a message.”

“I believe you are loyal to my brother, not me,” Robin hissed. “Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

“Because it’s important!” Pru looked frustrated. “Eth Alth'eban is on lockdown, and I barely managed to get out. I can’t get in touch with Red Robin; every time I try, something happens and messages are re-routed or destroyed. Lightning strikes on the communication towers in Antarctica, the encrypted server that runs through Bolivia crashed from a fucking hurricane, even the goddamn carrier pigeon got drawn off course from high winds in Brazil! Do you have any idea how erratic the past two weeks have been? It’s like something is out to get me!”

“So why come to me? You’re in Gotham now.” He pointed out.

Pru threw her hands up, exasperated. “Because Nightwing told me Red Robin is out of the country to help with flooding in Qatar! Apparently, there’s a fucking tropical storm hitting it for the first time ever! You’re the one who really needs to hear this, anyway, so I gave up and found you. It seems Gotham won’t let me leave until I say my piece.”

Damian considered the situation. Pru really did look like she’d been through hell and back. She looked furious at something, and her clothes were still damp from rain. Except it hadn’t rained in Gotham for a while. Not since…the summer storm. The back of his neck tingled again, and he glanced around. Clouds were closing in. Fuck.

He sheathed his sword. Pieces from this puzzle were starting to fall into place, but he needed more information. “Say what you must,” he nodded to Pru while tapping his comms to alert Oracle to the conversation. He also activated his emergency tracker, hoping Orphan or Nightwing would find him in time. Their conversation would end quickly once the woman relayed her message, and Damian wasn't about to force Pru to stay because he was nervous about being alone.

“Finally,” Pru sighed and sat heavily on the rooftop, not minding the glass that dug into her hands and thighs. “Your grandfather has a new Heir.”

Damian blinked, pausing. He wasn’t quite expecting that.

“I only knew about this early because they killed my inside man in the medical department. I got a hold of his notes, and it looks like they were in the middle of treating an unknown entity, and the files all referred to it as the ‘Demon's Heir.’ I'm not Red, so I can't be sure, but the records don't start in a way that would suggest they made a test tube baby or another clone."

"And it is not my cousin they are treating? Perhaps grandfather has changed his mind and declared Mara his ideal Heir."

Pru stared at Gotham's roiling clouds, looking frustrated. She didn't seem to notice anything strange about them. "No. Mara al Ghul was in Kuwait until recently. She and the others from the Demon's Fist were doing something on orders from Mother Soul. It's above my pay grade, so I can't tell you much more than that other than they left suddenly without finishing their business. I'll take a guess that Mother Soul will be pissed about that. I do know that the medical records were updated two days ago to reflect a stab wound to the entity's chest. Their name was also updated: Phantom."

Damian considered Pru's words. He turned the clues over in his mind like stones, carefully examining anything that might hint at deceit. She was telling the truth, unfortunately. "So someone named Phantom has claimed the role of Demon's Heir, and my cousin most likely heard this news first and abandoned her post to attack the usurper," he summarized. "And my grandfather has closed off his city for one reason or another, presumably to either train or protect Phantom. Am I correct?"

Pru nodded. "That's pretty much it, birdie. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

He ignored the jab. "I will consider my options," he said stiffly. "Now that you've served your purpose, leave Gotham immediately." Orphan, where are you?

The former assassin laughed and hauled herself to her feet, brushing off the glass and dirt that stuck to her clothes. "I'll consider it. I've been running around for weeks; Red Robin won't mind if I crash at his, will he?"

"He will."

"Tough shit. See you around!" Pru jumped off the rooftop and into the alley below, not giving a shit about potential muggers as she waltzed into the night.

He was alone.

Damian watched her go before tapping his comms again. “Did you hear everything?” He asked Oracle, but no reply came except static. He expected this but cursed anyway. Thunder started to rumble overhead; he felt it deep in his bones. Whispers of electricity started crawling along the rooftop, following wires and coming dangerously close to touching him. He was forced to back into a corner on the rooftop and hoped his rubber-insulated boots were enough to prevent a shock. The feeling from earlier was stronger than ever. Someone was watching him. They knew he was finally alone. Obviously, Orphan nor Nightwing would get there in time, so Damian would have to deal with this himself.

He turned in a circle, straining his eyes to see through the cloud cover. He still couldn’t pinpoint their location, but he knew they were up there. “Reveal yourself!” He barked, hand on his weapon.

A moment passed. The air pressure changed, making his ears pop uncomfortably. His eyes were trained on the sky as rain started to fall. The clouds above the city gathered wildly, swirling together and reaching down toward him. The bolts of electricity that crawled over the rooftop raced together and rose up to meet it, becoming large bolts of lightning that could do real harm to the city if even one got loose. He stepped back into the corner even further, watching the mass of storm clouds finally get low enough to spread out across the building like a thick fog, revealing a figure in the vague shape of a man.

Great. Of course, it was something magical. He'd be having words with the magic users from earlier.

The man wasn’t touching the ground. In fact, Damian could hardly make out his legs as his broad form blurred from the wind, snatching bits of his green body away. Smaller rain clouds encircled his waist like a belt, and his hair looked more like jagged horns sitting against his brow. While he wore a well-loved weather vest and thick gloves, the rain around them would have soaked the man through by now. But he was perfectly dry. Damian was a little envious.

The man was smiling at him, but not the kind of smile that welcomed him into the conversation. No, this man of clouds and lightning was holding himself like someone was forcing him to be there. His red eyes looked like a swirling red cyclone, and his overall air was disinterested and tired.

Damian flinched as the man opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except drawn-out screeches and clicks. It sounded like thunder was crashing right next to his ear or a tree getting struck by lightning. He didn't like it. The man frowned, realizing Damian couldn't understand him, and cleared his throat to try again.

“Hello, little Robin,” the man eventually tried, this time in Arabic. His voice was…strange. It sounded like he was gasping with every word, and the thundering sound was still there, muted and layered under the greeting. "I'm sorry, I forgot the people of this world are not natural speakers of the Realm's language."

“I am not little,” Damian snarled, likewise in Arabic.

“Of course not,” the man waved his hand. “A ghost’s size does not determine their power. I greet you nonetheless, little Robin.”

Damian had a feeling that speaking with this man was going to be infuriating. “Who are you?” He demanded. “And why are you in Gotham City?”

“You may call me the Navigator,” the man bowed a little, stiff in his back like he wasn’t used to the action. The Navigator, it seemed, was used to being in power. But by bowing to Damian, he showed his reluctant submission right off the bat, hoping to appease him and have a civil conversation. “And I believe you have a hunch as to why I’m here. You noticed me pretty quickly, after all.”

“So you are the one who’s been stalking me.”

“In plainer terms, yes.”

“I presume you’re the one who’s been messing with Pru as well?”

“You would presume correctly,” The Navigator's face scrunched and swirled like he was making a face of disgust. “I would rather have sent my sylphs to do it, but the Scepter insisted I do this part myself.”

More new information. If Damian remembered, sylphs were elemental wind spirits. So the Navigator was either a spirit himself or someone who could control them. But he said ‘ghost’ earlier. How did that fit in? He didn't look like the undead Damian knew of.

And ‘the Scepter’ was said with an inflection that suggested it was a name. Scepters were symbols of royalty, but Damian didn’t know anyone who actually used one or went by that name. It was no title he’d ever heard of. Whoever they were, they had to be more powerful than the Navigator if they had truly sent him after Robin.

“Aye, I can hear your brain working from here, little Robin.” The Navigator rolled his eyes, stretching the tiny cyclones. “You three are so similar that I’ll never find peace.”

“I don’t quite follow. State your business quickly; I’m losing my patience.”

The Navigator waved his hand, summoning a tablet out of nowhere. He tapped on it a few times clumsily, like he wasn't used to holding it, and then tossed it to Damian. The boy caught it easily and examined the thing. It looked like a normal tablet, similar to the ones Drake made and sold. It had a shield logo stamped on the back with Egyptian hieroglyphs engraved around the edge. It was warm to the touch, and Damian felt a little tingle as he turned it over in his hands. This was filled with magic.

The screen was made from something other than normal glass, that much he could tell as he scrolled away, trying his best to absorb the information quickly while keeping an eye on the stranger. It was a contract, he realized. The contract had been written on papyrus and then scanned in digitally. Half of it was written in a language he recognized but couldn't read. The other half contained details on limitations for the Navigator and instructions he was to follow regarding 'ghostlings,' 'The Guardian,' and...Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne.

Damian paled beneath the mask. His full name was in this contract. This was about him. The magical being before him knew who he was. He sped through the pages faster, frantically looking for answers.

...And as stated previously, the Navigator, Ancient of Storms, will grant Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne his blessing. This blessing will last the entirety of Damian's natural life until death returns him to the Realms. Upon completing the blessing, the Navigator will dispatch one guard to watch over Damian until the Scepter returns* but will not interfere with him personally.

During this period, the Guardian will fulfill the contract between the Gardener, Ancient of Growth, and one Ra's al Ghul. *The Scepter will enter The Guardian's time loop, and therefore, the Navigator may return to the Realms once the time loop is closed again. The runaway ghostlings will be promptly returned to their Lairs and Haunts in the correct dimensions.

As one last note, the Navigator will also refrain from fucking around with The Sword and The Shield unless he wants to find out what they can do. (I'm serious, too. The Shadow is busy, but I'll still find out if you try something, and I will kick your ass with no hesitation. The other two will be more than willing to punt your ass into Soup Time, as well.)

Upon completing this assignment, I release you from your bind, Ancient of Storms. Return to your Lair and rest with your sylphs. Thank you for your service.

Upon signing, all parties agree to abide by this contract until its terms are met. May the End take our souls if it is ever broken.

The Navigator, Ancient of Storms

Jasmine Nightingale, the Guardian's Scepter

At the bottom, under the signatures, Damian spotted a smaller note addressed to him.

Damian al Ghul, I look forward to our first meeting. Don't forget to bring your sword!

"You," he breathed heavily, glancing up at the mass of clouds. "Explain. What on earth is this?"

The Navigator cocked his head a little too far to the left. "I thought it was pretty self-explanatory," he said in a bored tone. "I was essentially sent on a ravenger hunt to find you and some escaped ghostlings. You shall receive my blessing whether I like it or not, and then I'll leave you to return to my Lair. Hopefully, I'll never have to grace these rotten clouds again!"

"It's 'scavenger hunt.'"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You are useless at explaining. What is this 'Ancient of Storms' title you have? What are these Realms this contract speaks of? Why must you give me a blessing?"

"Ughhh," the Navigator rolled in the air, groaning. "I'm the embodiment of storms, isn't that obvious? I'd rather deal with Plasmius now than talk with a naive ghostling like you. What kind of ghostling speaks like this anyway? It's rude! I've been practicing my manners; the least you can do is humor me. At least Phantom can figure shit out on his own; I don't have to explain anything to him."

"Phantom?" The name caught Damian's attention. "You know Phantom? Who is he? What does he want with my grandfather?"

"Dunno, little Robin. That's between the Scepter and the Gardener. They had a contract in place decades before your grandfather was even born. And since I'm not allowed near Phantom for a while, all I know is that he's been handed over to Ra's al Ghul for a chance at recovery. He was involved in an incident recently. I don't know the details, but he's hurt so badly it's turning the Realms upside down. That's why I was sent away; I thrive off chaos."

"So, again, you are useless," Damian snarled. He turned away, which, in hindsight, was a stupid move, but he was so angry at the lack of answers that he didn't care. He buried himself back into the tablet, scanning through the contract again, looking for anything useful. Everything seemed so organized, yet the information he wanted felt just out of reach.

He vaguely heard the Navigator mutter in surprise. Something about freaky time visions being too accurate before a blinding white hot pain spread across his body. He dropped the tablet, falling to his knees. It felt like lightning was crawling under his skin, burning him from the inside out. He was distantly aware that he was screaming but didn't know how to stop it. Then the pain was gone in the next instant, and he was left collapsed on the roof, eyes screwed shut as shudders racked his body. He smelled burning flesh. A misty touch brushed away his damp bangs, cooling his brow.

"Yup, I'm pretty sure he's still alive," the Navigator murmured. "Well done, little Robin. Perhaps the Scepter knew what she was talking about when she said you could house my power. Either way, I've said my piece. The rest is up to you. Goodbye, and I hope to never see you again. Feel free to pass on those ghost rabies to the Gardener if you ever see him, though."

And with a rumble of thunder, the presence of the spirit disappeared, taking with him the gentle rain and green storm clouds. Damian lay on that roof for what felt like ages, staring into nothing and dazed from the pain. Nightwing eventually found him, however, with Orphan not far behind.

"Baby Bat!" His elder brother cried, sliding to a stop beside him and gathering Damian in his arms. Cass hovered next to them, unsure of what to do.

"Baba," he croaked in return. "The tablet..."

"Don't worry about that," Nightwing pushed his bangs back, just like the Navigator had. "Are you okay? You're shaking; Oracle lost contact with you over an hour ago and you never showed up to the rendezvous spot. What happened?"

Damian tried to tell him. A being made of storms came by, looking for me by name. He wanted to say. He cut off my comms and shared a contract with me. Then he struck me with lightning and left. We need to bring the tablet back to the Cave for analysis.

But his throat was too dry, and Damian's mind was in too much pain to form the words. As he curled up in Nightwing's arms, all he could mumble was the word 'baba' again and drop his head to the side. Nightwing cursed, instructed Orphan to grab the tablet, and swiftly made the trip back to the Cave with a sense of urgency. Damian groaned the whole way. His body was tender, and every jostle sent tiny shocks through his nerves.

He must have passed out at some point because he remembered skirting around Crime Alley one moment and Alfred checking his vitals the next. The butler gave him a gentle look and dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. "Where's-" he tried to ask.

"Quiet, Master Damian. Master Dick will be here in a moment." Alfred soothed. Damian dropped it and settled back into the medical bed. When had he taken his clothes off? How long was he out?

A few minutes later, his siblings got the message that he'd awoken and stormed the med bay. "Baby Bat!" Cried Dick, sliding into the room and bolting to Damian's side. "Are you okay? Do you remember us?"

"Yes, baba." Damian croaked. Alfred held a glass of water to his lips, and he sipped carefully to soothe the burn in his throat.

"Dickie told me you got one hell of a shock," Jason, the second eldest, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and staring at them. Cass hung from his side, overwhelmed with anxiety. Steph was shuffling an exhausted Duke into one of the other medical beds, simply so the boy could feel included but still get some rest.

"I did," Damian confessed. Dick gripped his hand tightly, helping him sit up better. "I've been feeling a presence stalk me over the past few weeks, and tonight, I was finally confronted when Cain and I were separated." He left out the part with Pru for now but relayed everything the Navigator had told him, including the details he'd seen on the contract.

Everyone stayed silent as he spoke, but Dick looked like he was ready to bite someone by the end of the story.

"I'm calling everyone back to the Cave," he decided. "This is a Code Addams."

Jason shook his head immediately. "I'm all for punching storm cryptids," he said. "But you know this doesn't fall under Bruce's emergency plans."

"He's right, Dick," Steph frowned. She sat on the other side of Damian's bed, playing with his fingers lightly, and he didn't have the energy to move her. "We can put out a warning, but this sounds like League business to me. Most of us won't really be any help when it comes to al Ghul family drama."

"It's not 'drama,' Brown. Grandfather has taken a new, unknown Heir that has connections to several powerful entities if I'm not mistaken."

Steph nodded. "Yeah! Drama! And if that freaky storm demon shows up again, then we're even less equipped to deal with it. B's not even here right now to help, so we're on our own for this one."

"I'll even send Babs a copy of the contract; she'll probably be able to find something we can't." Jason started tapping away at his phone with one hand, updating the BatKids group chat on the situation and unloading the work onto Barbara.

Dick looked devastated. "But-"

"Hey, Dami?" Duke groaned, cutting everyone off. He was tangled in the thin sheets of the bed now, squinting at the youngest Wayne like he was staring at the sun. "I was kind of half-listening, but you said something about the lightning strike being a blessing, right?"

"Correct."

"Okay, um. Are you aware you glow now? Well, glow more than you used to?"

"...I was not aware. What do you see?"

Duke shuffled and threw an arm over his eyes. The lights of the med bay were giving him a migraine, but he refused to leave now. "You used to just look like a lamp. Now, you look like a bolt of lightning," he said. "There's electricity following your nerves. And your eyes are glowing green—just like Jason's when he's mad. Whatever you got hit with, it's definitely doing something to your body. I just don't know what."

Everyone paused at that.

"Well shit," Jason eventually broke the silence, bringing Cass even closer like a teddy bear. "Looks like we should get a hold of Talia and Bruce, at minimum. Demon Brat, you should probably go to Eth Alth'eban if you want answers."

Damian thumped his head against his thin pillow. "Fuck."

"Potty mouth!"

-

Danny was starting to get tired of waking up sore.

At least he recognized the room. It was the same one as before and actually decorated like a patient's room, not an underground bunker with his own blood splattered on the walls. He groaned, trying to shift his body. How much was he missing? His lungs were back, obviously. They felt raw in his chest. His vocal chords were also half-baked, but speaking wasn't really an issue right now.

What mattered was his pounding headache and the fire beneath his skin. He had started to sweat in his sleep, which is something he'd never done ever since he had died. Danny tried to glance down at this chest. (Had someone slipped his bones back into place?) The bandages were professional work but pulled away easily when he tugged on them. He hissed as they caught on fresh scabs and drew tiny amounts of blood.

His torso was a fucking mess. Danny was underground for ages, he knew. The GIW treated him like an immortal lab rat by tearing open his body every day to poke around and take samples. It was a miracle they didn't find his broken core, which was hidden deep behind his heart.

The cuts on his torso were being held together by surgical staples; no doubt any stitches or glue dissolved when in contact with his blood. His skin was flushed, puckered, and oozed green. The stab wound was fresher and looked nastier than what Lunch Lady could cook up. It was probably infected. He most likely would have scars even as a ghost. Frostbite once told him that wounds to the soul were the hardest to heal, and Danny didn't see himself getting over this anytime soon.

He laid his head back, staring at the smooth ceiling. A whine built in his throat. Why did everything have to hurt? He just wanted to go home.

But where was home?

His home was gone.

He had nothing to return to.

His parents pretty much disowned him the moment they sold him to the GIW.

The whine turned into a quiet sob, and he let himself sit there and shake. All he had ever done was try to be a good son to his parents, a good friend to Sam and Tucker, and a good brother to Dani and Jazz. Why did it have to be up to him to save others? Sure, it was kind of fun, but the stress of protecting both humans and ghosts got to Danny fast. The others didn't understand. No one understood. And now they never will because Danny was gone and had no home.

And there was that heavy pain again. His core became impossibly cold, uncomfortable against his human heart. It was pulling at his skin and at his bones. He gasped and cried, balling up the bandages in his fist. Was his chest caving in? His core felt like it was trying to turn him inside out and tear him apart.

Why was no one there to help him? Why wasn't he good enough to be saved? Was it because he couldn't save that little girl? Were his failures finally catching up to him? He'll do better, he promises...

Desiree must have heard his silent pleas. The door to his room opened, and a single man entered. It took a moment to recognize him through his tears, but Danny eventually saw that he was the same man who had soothed him to sleep previously.

"Ra's al Ghul," Danny managed. The man nodded to him, coming closer to stare at Danny while he writhed on the bed.

"You are having another panic attack."

"C-can't-"

"The doctors say you have lungs once more. Use them."

"It hurts-"

"Then let it hurt," Ra's didn't look away from Danny. He was cold but not disgusted. He expected Danny to be strong enough to handle this himself. "You are my Heir now; either embrace the pain or let go of what torments you. Become stronger."

"I can't!" Danny sobbed. His shoulders shook with the effort it took to speak. "They'll come back-"

Ra's firmly said, "They shall not."

"You don't know that! I'll be cut up again!"

"You are not from this world, Phantom. Whatever torments you cannot follow."

The words slowly sunk into his brain. The weight was lifted off his chest for a moment. Another world? He wasn't in his home dimension? The GIW didn't exist here? His parents weren't waiting around the corner with a bone saw and handcuffs?

That was great, but that also meant he truly was alone now.

There was no way for him to find his way back, was there?

The pressure from his core lessened, and his body stopped trying to eat itself. His chest expanded again, allowing him to breathe properly through choked sobs and broken groans. He clenched his teeth, trying to stop the tears. He really was useless.

"You are not useless, Phantom." Ra's had a hard light in his eyes. "As mentioned before, you are an al Ghul now, one of my grandsons, no matter what you were previously. You are very valuable to the League now, and I refuse to let you go."

Danny sniffed. "I can't offer you much," he said. "I remember that Undergrowth promised you power and knowledge, but I'm practically a high school dropout, and I'm so weak I can barely lift my head."

"So you shall regain your strength. I have lived a long time, grandson, and I shall live even longer. Your recovery will be swift when compared to the erosion of time."

"Mr. al Ghul..." Danny said defeatedly. His throat felt thick from all the crying. "I couldn't even keep my town safe. All I'm good for is killing kings and pissing people off. I don't want to bring you that kind of shame."

Ra did not show any signs of his satisfaction with Danny's words, but Danny could taste it in the air. "So you were a warrior, yes?"

"I-uh, sort of? I'm a ghost, and I died two years ago. Ghosts fight for every reason and no reason. I kinda had to learn on my feet or risk getting Ended."

"A warrior who cannot die. A man who has the will to act." Ra's appraised him like a prized cow. "Yes, I shall be able to use you, child. The al Ghul legacy shall never die out if you become the Demon's Head. Phantom al Ghul is a...fitting name, I suppose."

Danny wrinkled his nose. "I don't know what half of that means, but okay. And my name isn't really Phantom; that's just my title and hero name. My real name is Danny."

"Then, Daniel-"

"Danny!"

"Daniel, now that your tears have stopped, let me call for refreshments and fresh bandages. We must discuss the Gardener's contract and your usefulness in great detail."

Danny sighed. He was calmer, but now he had to do an Ancient's magic paperwork? He'd rather let his core swallow him whole.

At least someone needed him again.

-

The group followed Jazz’s decision without a second thought and stepped through the giant portal alongside her. Luckily, it led right to the edge of the In-Between, where Clockwork and a few others resided in their individual spaces. Jazz yelped as she realized there was no solid surface to land on and flipped around in the air uncontrollably. Sam and Tucker had the same fate. All of them kind of bobbed around like ducks in the water before Danielle sighed, gathered them all up with some rope from Tucker’s pack, and hauled them along in the vague direction of Clockwork’s tower.

For a space called Long Now, it didn't take very long to reach the tower, even with Dani hauling along three passengers. Everyone was pretty quiet during the ride, still processing what they had seen in the underground facility. It was a little strange. None of them felt disgust or fear at Danny's actions, but anger and sadness at what he was forced to endure. Not once did they consider abandoning him, even though others might have shied away from his monstrous outburst.

Jazz wondered what Clockwork could possibly say to them that would make the whole thing better. She just wanted to see Danny. She wanted to sit down with him and watch shitty kid's movies while they huddled under that one big quilt her parents had. The one that was gifted to them as a wedding gift and the one they added to when something important happened. She felt horrible thinking about it now.

Jazz would probably never see that quilt again. And if she did, she would probably burn it.

"We're here," Dani quietly announced, untethering the group from her body as they touched Clockwork's island. Long Now was a special place even in the In-Between. The tower's foundations were in varying stages of decay, and much like its owner, the building warped from looking good as new to 'about to fall over' kind of old right before their eyes. Everything felt so fragile.

They entered the lower entrance, climbing a spiral staircase past rows and rows of clocks lining the walls. Everything was ticking out of sync, which usually annoyed Jazz to no end. Right now, she couldn't care less.

Reaching the top had a lack of fanfare. One minute they were passing the biggest fucking grandfather clock they'd ever seen, and the next, they were in Clockwork's main room at the top of the tower, facing the old ghost himself.

Clockwork didn't even look at them. He seemed exhausted.

"We're here," Jazz announced. "Tell us what you know."

"No greetings, Jasmine? I thought you raised Danny to have manners, so where are yours?"

"Locked behind the walls of Fentonworks. Tell us what you know, Clockwork, or I'll break everything here." She snarled. It wasn't an empty threat, and everyone knew it.

"Please, Clockwork," Tucker added. "We saw your message. Where's Danny?"

Dani started crying into Sam's shoulder. "Where's my brother?" The ghost girl sobbed. "I want to see Danny!"

Clockwork sighed. He was aging rapidly, growing wrinkles as they watched. "Daniel is safe, for now. I hid him in another world. However, the flow of time has changed. New paths are being forged. If things continue as they are, Daniel will become something worse than Dan."

Danielle muffled another sob.

"Daniel did something I did not expect while having his rampage in Yellowstone. It will take a delicate hand to make sure his actions do not cause him to go down the wrong path."

"What did he do?"

Clockwork looked them each in the eye. His eyes were glassy and blank, like the face of a new watch, but his sincerity was enough to reach them. "He sealed off the Realms."

Tucker choked. "I'm sorry, he wHAT??"

"Daniel, in his explosion of sudden power, sealed off the Infinite Realms from your home world's influence. Only the power of an Ancient can break that barrier now. The only portal still open is the one located in Fentonworks, protected by the strongest shield your mortal world has to offer. Vortex had to be sent out to collect ghostlings who didn't return in time. By sealing off the Realms, Daniel effectively declared they were under his protection and claimed the title 'Guardian' since only Guardians have the right to seal off worlds."

Jazz's mind was spinning. "He...sealed off our world. Did he do it on purpose?"

Clockwork shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. This was a decision made by Fate alone. He was simply the strongest power source available that was also willing to defend the Realms to his End. The Realms responded in kind and claimed him as Guardian. That is a title and a burden he will share forever."

"Oh, god..." Jazz sat heavily on the floor, reeling from the shock. Dani left Sam's shoulder and crumpled into her lap, still crying. Tucker and Sam also offered each other comfort, leaning on each other as Clockwork's words sunk in. "So, what happens to him? Where is he now? What future do we have to avoid?"

Clockwork waved his staff, summoning a few large clocks with reflective surfaces. The clockfaces glitched and changed to show different pictures of Danny, all doing various things at different stages in his life. One had Danny laughing with a group of strangers. Another had him shaking hands with a green-skinned man. A third was him sitting in a hospital bed, getting stabbed in the chest. They cycled through different pictures and videos, and it was hard to look away.

"This is the future we must avoid." Clockwork motioned to the smallest clock, which showed a furious Danny screaming into the vacuum of space, tears pouring down his face. A large rip into the Realms tore open from his Wail, and the stars surrounding him started to get sucked in.

"If this future comes true, Daniel will destroy not only your home world but the Realms as a whole," The Ancient explained. "Because of his new link to the Realms, no one will be able to take the title of Guardian from him. He will become a destroyer and tear apart every universe and every timeline. Everything will just...End."

"That's horrible," Sam whispered. "What's the tipping point?"

Again, Clockwork looked them deep in their eyes. "Your betrayals."

"WHAT??" Danielle screeched, whipping around.

"You betray him by dying, Danielle. You melt in his arms and ask why he didn't save you. Samantha, you betray him by leaving him. Your home world is never unsealed and you can't stand not being able to see your grandmother again. Tucker, you betray him by lying to him. You say you're on his side but end up stabbing him in the back for a 'good cause.' Jasmine, you betray him by acting just like your parents." Jazz felt tears prick her eyes, but Clockwork kept going. "You see the monster he has become and can't look past it. The four of you betraying him would be his last straw, and Daniel would rather tear apart the universe than be reminded of you four ever again. And so he does."

Sam protested, "We would never!"

"You wouldn't." Clockwork agreed. "But you can, and in some ways, you already have. That is how time works. If you do not want to bring about this end, you must actively fight against this destiny like Daniel has fought against Dan."

Tucker whipped out his PDA, already taking notes. "What's the game plan, then? I would rather eat Dash's underwear than stab Danny in the back. If I have to throw hands with an evil version of myself from the future, I'm willing to do that, too."

Clockwork smiled at them for the first time since their arrival. "That was the right response," he told Tucker. "You're already taking a step away from that future. But for the best ending for everyone, all four of you will need to connect with the Realms as well."

"But we don't have the same power that Danny does."

"No, but your will is just as strong as his. Prove to the Realms that you're willing to fight, protect, and love just as much as Daniel. Become his support. Do it right, follow in his footsteps, and the Realms shall accept you with open arms. You will be bound together as a family for eternity."

The four looked at each other. Jazz gently wiped away the remainder of Dani's tears as they pondered over the ghost's words. Connecting with the Realms would probably mean giving up some amount of their humanity, especially if it truly was a forever thing. They might follow in Danny's footsteps a little too closely-but for their friend and brother? They would do anything.

"Fuck eternity!"

"Tell us what to do."

"We'll always be there for Danny."

"I don't plan on eating any underwear, but I will fight evil me if that's what it takes."

Clockwork shriveled up, folding in on himself several times before unfolding into a child, like a phoenix (but without the fire). He looked less exhausted now, less like the promise of the End was no longer hovering over his shoulder. "Become the Guardian's Shadow, Danielle. Take up his mantle while he is away and keep the peace in his stead. Be the Guardian's Sword, Samantha. Be at the front of each fight and kill when he cannot. The Guardian's Shield will be you, Tucker. Your wish to protect those around you will come true, and you will gain the power to shield them from harm. And Jasmine-"

Jazz held her breath.

"You will have the most difficult job. You will be the Guardian's Scepter. His symbol of power. You will work behind the scenes to stage events that shall work in his favor no matter what."

She released her breath, surprised. "A scepter? Like the symbol of royalty? But wasn't the position of King given to another?"

"In sorts. Daniel helped elect a council to rule the Realms and refused to be a part of it. However, you shall be his Scepter, only wielded in times of need. You will take the dark and harsher jobs that shouldn't be brought to life. You will pull the strings to ensure the timelines stay together, and he never strays from the path."

"How would I do that?"

"You need to become my apprentice."

-

After Jason's statement about coming to see Ra's in person, the whole Batfamily blew up. Words were said in person and over text, and Damian was too exhausted at the time to get a word in edgewise, so let Jason argue for him. Eventually, Bruce had to take a moment away from his League duties and settle the matter over a conference call. After debating, he allowed Damian to return to the League of Assassins, provided Dick went with him. The man was already on a leave of absence from his job to cover for Batman, and he could keep a level head when dealing with the Demon's Head.

So off they went as soon as Alfred gave Damian the all-clear. Strangely enough, he had no side effects from being struck by fucking lightning. Well, almost none. He did feel flush every once in a while, and his veins burned like there was liquid battery acid in them, but other than that, he was fine! No, he didn't need another cold press, Alfred! It was only a few hours by plane; he'd be fine!

And honestly, with the news that Eth Alth’eban was on lockdown, Damian thought it would be harder to enter the city. Undetected, at least. Sadly, they were found out immediately and had a group waiting for them as they touched down. As soon as he stepped off the Batplane onto the private airstrip in Yemen, he was quickly surrounded by the 'welcoming' entourage of assassins. They took his bags, herding him toward a black car as Dick jogged to keep up with them. Damian was glad they didn't do a pat-down in their rush; he'd hidden the tablet under his clothes just for this purpose.

"Hey!" his brother shouted. "How did you guys even know we were here?"

"This is a League matter, Nightwing." The head of the group, a one-eyed man named after the god Balor, whom Damian recognized as part of his grandfather's elite, barely turned to look at Grayson and dismissed him entirely.

“No, this is a family matter,” Dick leaned against the door of the car, preventing Balor from opening it and shoving Damian in. They stared at each other long and hard.

“You are not an al Ghul.”

“Damian was nearly killed by a storm demon and told there was a new Heir who is somehow connected to said storm demon. I’m not leaving him alone.”

Balor considered the options before him, glancing at Damian. His one good eye assessed him. The boy simply raised a brow. “I’d prefer it if my baba came with us.”

The assassin’s face twitched, which was the equivalent of a snort of disgust, but gave in to Dick’s demands and herded them both into the car. Two more assassins slid in on either side of them while Balor took the passenger seat. The driver barely glanced at the airport security as they drove the vehicle off the tarmac and into the middle of the desert.

The drive felt long. Damian held a stoic face whenever Balor looked at him and refused to engage in any conversation with Dick. Even when the AC was turned off, everyone started sweating, and his brother was threatening to sing show tunes until they turned it back on.

He ended up singing, of course. Damian just zoned out as his brother started warbling through the entire soundtrack of Hairspray. Truly, the man had questionable taste. For their credit, the assassins made it through the entire performance of Hairspray and halfway through High School Musical before the driver slowly leaned over, never taking their eyes off the desert landscape, and flicked the AC back on to blast. They lasted longer than Bruce would have.

Dick still finished the High School Musical soundtrack despite getting what he wanted. No one ever said he did things half-assed.

Finally, Damian spotted the maze of canyons that housed the Assassin City, Eth Alth’eban. Damian wasn’t sure if his elder brother had ever been there before, but the tight hold he had on his hand suggested that Dick either had very complicated memories of the place or was anxious about being in enemy territory. He wasn’t really interested in asking.

As they approached, the main gate was large and imposing. The sun was high in the sky now and beat down on them to reflect all the minute details that had been carved into the gates. They were gorgeous pieces of work, ones that Ra’s was no doubt very proud of. Guards were there to welcome them, examining the vehicle from top to bottom to ensure nothing strange was being brought in from the outside world. Damian glared at his brother when the man leaned forward to take the attention off of him and the hidden tablet, loudly asking the outside guards when they could go in yet.

One of them narrowed their eyes at Dick. “An extra?” They hissed in Arabic. “This was not approved by the Demon’s Head.”

Balor jerked a thumb at Damian. “His choice,” he responded simply. “The Bats are never alone. The Head is aware of this." Since when? They never called ahead. Damian felt the burn of lighting in his veins again. He caught Balor's eye in the rearview mirror and realized that the man's eye color was much lighter than it was supposed to be. It was shifting between gray and blue, like a cloud, and stared at him with unusual intensity.

Fuck. Of course, the secret guard that was mentioned in the contract. It must have gone into effect when the Navigator returned to wherever he came from. How did he know they would end up in the Eth Alth'eban?

Whatever was said next, Damian missed, but eventually, the gates opened, and the car was let through. Dick was quiet once more, staring at the lush city, probably trying to figure out how to do a backflip off the tall buildings. They headed straight for the palace that was past the training grounds. Most people were taking a noon daybreak, so the grounds were empty when the car pulled up next to the designated drop-off point.

Balor motioned for the group to leave the car, and the two assassins tugged on Dick’s arm painfully, practically dragging him along and not allowing any room for him to wander off. Damian wasn’t touched, but he was no less shuffled in the same direction. They went up the steps, through hallways lined with servants and fountains, following a path Damian recognized easily. They were headed to the medical wing.

His mind raced. Was he ready to meet this ‘Phantom’ fellow? Would he insist on fighting to the death to prove his worth? Had his mother gotten his message and made it here before him? So many questions ran through his head, yet this was not the time to ask them. Damian bit his tongue and instead played the part of the perfect al Ghul. Silent, deadly, and proud.

Balor was leading the way. He studied the older man's back carefully, looking for any other inconsistencies in his behavior. There were none, except for a single cloud symbol stamped into his neck that shimmered the same color as Vortex. Did this mean he was possessed? Was he another one of the Navigator's blessed? Did Damian also have the same symbol? No one else seemed to notice the mark, so Damian put it in the back of his mind. He'd have Dick check his neck later, just in case.

They'd reached the end of the medical wing now, where Damian knew the rooms were sealed off for quarantined patients.

Indeed, a pair of guards stood in front of the extra set of doors. Balor nodded to the guards and pushed through without stopping. The quarantined corridor was short, with only six rooms, three on each side. Five were marked with a little green flag by the door, indicating their vacancy. The sixth, the farthest on the left, had a little red flag displayed. Damian pushed his way to the front of the group and beelined for the door. This was it. Soon, he'd have some answers.

His grandfather opened the door before he could knock. The al Ghuls looked at each other, noting how much had changed since they had last seen each other. His grandfather looked…well. He was healthy, and there were no visible injuries. His clothes were immaculate but simpler than his usual ornate robes. It felt like Ra's was dressed for a close social visit, not for taking over the world and planning murder.

"Damian," His grandfather was as short as ever, however. "You are late."

"Good to see you too, old man," Dick snarked. Ra's ignored him, waving a hand to Balor, who promptly shut the door again before Dick could walk through after Damian. The two were to wait in the hallway, apparently.

Damian moved further past his grandfather, forgoing the greeting. His eyes were glued to the hospital bed. Draped in rich blankets and wrapped in soft cotton bandages, a boy around his age was sitting up and staring at him with green eyes similar to his own. He was holding a glass of Lazarus water, raised to his lips like he was about to drink it. Honestly, if it wasn't for his incredibly pale skin and wispy white hair, the boy could have been his-

"Holy shit, we look exactly the same!" The boy lowered the glass, staring at Damian in wonder. His voice was double-layered, like the Navigator's, and it grated on Damian's mind with the sounds of screaming and creaking ice. "Are you Mr. al Ghul's other grandson? This is so freaky!"

Ah, so this was Phantom.

-

[rjzimmerman]

Why you should become a volunteer urban biodiversity scientist. (Washington Post)

Tens of thousands of species coexist with humans in the concrete jungles that live up to their name. These plants and animals are just out of sight — unless, that is, you try to look for them.

A few weekends ago, I joined 83,000 participants from around the globe to find this urban flora and fauna and share it with the world. The City Nature Challenge, or “bioblitz,” is an annual competition documenting nonhuman urbanites. Armed with no more than a smartphone and free time, nature lovers in nearly 700 cities uploaded more than 2.4 million wildlife photos to the platform iNaturalist.

These citizen scientists provide an invaluable glimpse into unlikely urban ecosystems, often in places scientists can’t venture into, such as backyards and private grounds.

“Urban areas are not like blank spaces on the map in terms of conservation value,” says Alison Young of the California Academy of Sciences, who co-founded the City Nature Challenge in 2016. “You just find things that you weren’t expecting, and things that are really important for people to know about.”

The bioblitz is the world’s largest biodiversity survey, according to iNaturalist, helping scientists craft conservation plans that recognize nature is everywhere. As the world rapidly becomes more urbanized, cities and backyards are becoming essential for saving biodiversity.

Cities are not “biological deserts,” as some have portrayed them. They act as bridges between natural reserves — even reservoirs for some wild populations — no matter how developed they might seem.

This year, volunteers sent in photos of more than 65,000 species, according to City Nature Challenge. La Paz, Bolivia, (population: 2 million humans) and Hong Kong (one of the densest cities in the world with a population of 7.3 million), each submitted around 5,000 observed species.

[manessha545]

Bolivien Bus Ride from Villazon to Uyuni, Bolivia: Uyuni primarily serves as a gateway for tourists visiting the world's largest salt flats, the nearby Uyuni salt flat. Each year the city receives approximately 60,000 visitors from around the globe. The city also acts as a gateway for commerce and traffic crossing into and out of Bolivia from and to Chile, and there is a customs and immigration post downtown. If you’re traveling by land, it’s important to know the distance from Villazon to Uyuni. Your trip will be a total of 186 miles (299 km). The flying distance is 141 miles (226 km). Wikipedia

[fishenjoyer1]

Fish of the Day

Today's fish of the day is the guppy, by special request of @guppiesareamazing !

The guppy, also known as millions in some English dialects, and scientific name Poecilia reticulata, is a well known freshwater fish. Common across every continent but Antartica, the natural range of the guppy stretches across the warm and tropical waters of South America and the Caribbean, from as far North as Venezuela, far South as Bolivia, and stretching Pacific to Atlantic oceans. Living in smaller streams or ponds due to poor swimming skills in faster waters, these fish are known for their ability to withstand brackish and slightly salty freshwaters, with an ability to be acclimated to saltwater (similar to their close relatives, mollies). Although, saltwater guppies have far fewer offspring. These fish are benthic, living on the river bed, but require water temperatures around 23-24 °C to survive. They can live in any elevation, with some restriction on increased pressure, and due to their highly adaptable way, are incredibly common in the aquarium trade!

The reason for the widespread populations across the globe is due to their habit of eating mosquito larvae, meaning they were often intentionally imported in an effort to control malaria. Although current studies show this was ineffective at best as a control method. However, these populations have caused issues worldwide. Since they are highly adaptable, guppies tend to kill out local species, bringing both competition for food, and disease. In particular, guppies are known for carrying: a parasitic flatworm species known as Gyrodactylus turnbulli which causes the host to swim erratically before dying, waiting for other fish to feed on the corpse so it can infect another host. Along with fin rot, ich, swim bladder disease, and columnaris bacteria, all of which is infectious to other fishes. In the United States, guppies are known particularly for being a problem along the Southwest, and Southeast, driving out cyprinids and killifishes, and damaging damselfly populations.

As discussed earlier, the diet of the guppy is made up of algae, zooplankton, insects/larvae, and surrounding detritus. Foraging for sustenance is common, and they travel in shaling groups as large as 30 individuals. These foraging groups help keep the fish calm, and spending less energy on anti predatory behaviours, leading to guppies that are less aggressive and less competitive, the same reason they need to be kept with multiple of their species in hobby tanks and captivity. In both wild and captivity, this fish is often predated on, especially considering they only grow to an adult size of 4-7cm in length.

However, guppies have several tactics for avoiding predation. Considering the bright colors of male guppies, the schools help populations of guppies under high predations, as sholes band together to make antipredator decisions. In these groups, some guppies act as inspectors, approaching predators to assess the danger, and are thought to report back to the larger group, although research is still being conducted. Other tactics, such as the ability to darken the iris of the eyes from silver to black, draws predator attention toward the head of the animal, giving the fish an easier time pivoting out of the way of a strike than if the predator aims for the center of mass. All these abilities to avoid predators only aid the guppies ability to adapt to new areas, making them such an issue as an invasive species.

The lifecycle of the guppy is like that of many other small fish. There are two generations per year, as male fish mature at the ripe age of 2 months and females mature at 3 months, with maturity causing males to exhibit sexul dimorphism dependent on the amount of a certain thyroid hormone that influences color patterns, as female guppies are attracted to brighter colors. Many of these bright colored males are bred specifically for different bright and flashy colors in the freshwater trade, leading to the many different variants of them in the hobby aquarium market. Their total lifespan is only around 2 years, and most fish will survive to see 3 breeding seasons total throughout their lifespan.

Female guppies give birth to live young, who can swim immediately and are often eaten by the parents soon after birth. In mating itself, females will take on multiple male mates a season, despite being incredibly picky about which they choose. This is thought to be in an effort to avoid inbreeding. Most of the choices that female fish make are based on the number and prevalence of orange spots on the flank and caudal tail of the fish. The orange spots are made up of a pigment that the guppies can not synthesize, and must be obtained in the diet. These spots show how healthy the male is, and is a good show for the presence of parasites. After a show of courtship behaviour and an acceptance, the female fish will gestate for 21-30 days, before giving birth to anywhere from 30-200 fry over the course of several hours. Although common, female guppies do not always eat their fry, and this can be prevented entirely by keeping the adult guppies happy and full of live prey, such as brine shrimp, well raising fry.

That's the guppy, everybody! Hope everyone has a wonderful day!

[mariacallous]

Venezuela has been polarized almost since the election of Hugo Chávez in 1998, but last Sunday’s stolen presidential vote shows the rift has changed. Previously, it was between middle- and upper-class citizens who opposed Presidents Chávez and Nicolás Maduro and those leaders’ base, the poor. Now the rift is between a majority of citizens and Maduro’s discredited, autocratic government. Residents from the poor neighborhoods that ring Caracas are pouring into the capital to protest alongside the city’s better-off residents. To suppress them, Maduro and his government are unleashing their security apparatus, and as of Wednesday, government security and militia forces had arrested hundreds of protesters and killed more than a dozen people.

This is not a “civil war,” as Venezuelan Attorney General Tarek William Saab recently attempted to portray it—at least not in the traditional sense of citizens against fellow citizens. Instead, we are seeing the rising up of citizens against a government that, according to credible exit polls and opposition tallies of more than 80 percent of the ballots, stole an election from a popular presidential candidate, Edmundo González. There is no hard evidence to support the claim of the National Electoral Council (CNE)—packed with Maduro loyalists—that Maduro was reelected with 51 percent of the vote, to González’s 44 percent. And what’s certain is the division and turmoil revealed this week after the election are inimical to the social capital, stability, and predictability needed to rebuild the country’s battered economy.

Venezuelan citizens lined up for hours to cast their vote in Sunday’s presidential election. This demonstration of renewed faith in democracy followed decades of declining participation in voting, owing, in part, to the opposition’s abstentions. In preelection public opinion polls, more than 80 percent of registered voters said they wanted political change, and an almost equal number expressed an intent to vote. But Maduro never had any intention of allowing himself to be voted out of power.

Before and after, his government has displayed a refusal to adhere to standards of electoral transparency. Several months before the balloting, the CNE disinvited an election observation mission from the European Union. Days before the vote, Venezuelan authorities refused to allow ex-presidents from Argentina, Bolivia, Mexico, and Panama to fly to the country observe the elections. And after governments from Argentina, Chile, Costa Rica, the Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Panama, Peru, and Uruguay questioned the results, the Maduro government announced that it would shutter those countries’ embassies in Caracas. The willingness to break diplomatic practice has shocked the foreign-policy community, especially in Venezuela’s own neighborhood; solidarity and dialogue are firmly ingrained in the region’s diplomatic DNA.

Of course, fellow autocratic governments in China, Cuba, Iran, Nicaragua, and Russia immediately recognized Maduro’s win. For some of them, like China, the reasons are in part financial—Beijing wants to keep its access to Venezuela’s oil. For others, it is more out of solidarity in defying international scrutiny of human rights and elections. Meanwhile, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, the EU, and the United States among others are calling on the government to release the paper ballots. But if the CNE never turns over the paper trail or if the evidence is demonstrated to be falsified, what those governments will or even can do is unclear. (A majority of governments denounced Maduro’s last election in 2018 as fraudulent with little effect, but since the opposition had boycotted the contest, the claims carried less import.)

Protests are likely to grow in the coming weeks, and the likelihood of broad international isolation—what one pro-government investor said at a recent conference in London would be just “some turbulence”—now looks more like a crash. Investors who bought distressed bonds after Venezuela defaulted on its debt are watching bond prices drop after rising in the weeks before the election. Energy companies in the United States and Europe that benefited from the U.S. liberalization of sanctions are now facing a possible return of those sanctions, and as Britain, the EU, and the United States discuss how to best punish the government and individuals within it for failing to meet Venezuela’s commitments under the 2023 Barbados Agreement to hold free and fair elections, there will likely be more targeted personal sanctions, too.

None of this bodes well for Maduro’s ability to maintain even his limited base of popular support, which includes corrupt businesses, politicians, and security officers. Further repression will likely follow. While China and Russia have pledged their support for the Maduro government, neither has the capacity to keep Venezuela’s battered economy afloat.

Whatever happens to Maduro’s government, the chaos and the economic pain it will inflict likely spell the end of the United Socialist Party of Venezuela (PSUV) and the Bolivarian project that Chavez founded in 1998. There was a slim, perhaps unrealistic, hope among international diplomats and observers that more forward-thinking members of the government and party would consider their political future in a democratic Venezuela should a popular uproar follow a stolen election. That hope has vanished. For the majority of Venezuelans who supported González and had their hopes dashed, the PSUV will be associated with theft and cruelty, even more so than in the past. The legacy of Chavismo will be remembered for this.

The situation in Venezuela cries out for international mediation to restore order and defend the rights of Venezuelan citizens. The center-left governments of Colombia and Brazil could be well positioned to convene such a process.

But next steps are deeply unclear. Nor is it obvious after the Maduro government cut ties to neighboring governments that dared to question the results whether Brazil and Colombia would be able to maintain ties to the strategically thin-skinned PSUV regime should they criticize it.

The violence in recent days committed by state security forces and pro-government private militias—the colectivos—should preclude the government from staying in office, even if the opposition is declared victorious and is constitutionally sworn in on Jan. 10, 2025. Oddly, the Maduro government has called for a national dialogue. But an immediate change of government is necessary, if even a transitional government. That will first require understanding that instead of simple political polarization or even a civil war, a government has instead waged war on its own citizens and their popular will.

[venomous-ragno]

Writing advice...

... About military things from a soldier

Pt. 2 / ?: Women and relationships in the military

You wanna write a story with a militaristic setting, like CoD or R6S? You wanna create a female OC, self insert or character, but you don't know where to start, if women are even allowed in the military?

Well, lucky for you or not I know what that feels like and I've also got the combat / real life experience to help ya out!

Feel free to hop in my askbox or dm's and ask questions. I'll gladly elaborate and do my best to answer in full and plenty.

Disclaimer: My experiences and knowledge are mostly based on the German military, the Bundeswehr. They may differ from those of other countries.

Happy writing y'all! :)

Are women allowed in the military?

The answer seems obvious: Yes. Most militaries around the world do allow women to enlist. Some, however, do not allow women to join the special forces, such as the SAS, for example.

Certain branches report a higher number of female soldiers than others. The US army air force and sanitation in the German military are two examples I can think of.

Some countries do allow women to enlist but forbid them from partaking in "action", such as North Korea, Sweden, Norway, Bolivia and some more.

What about misogyny by male soldiers?

In my six years of active duty I've learnt that sexism rarely occurs, but when it does, it's straight forward and nasty. Most men don't care about your gender. They treat you like you're one of them, and oftentimes even forget about the fact that you're a woman. The few times I was talked down to for my gender was blatant and hateful though; but even then, some of these opinions didn't come from within the military, but from civilians. (Cue the old granpa who saw me travelling back home in uniform and just had to tell me that women belong in the kitchen, how in the good old days women were still women yadda yadda. Yeah, I had the same look about on my face like you now.)

Appearance is important!

As is in any military. I can't speak for them though, but in my experience, light and natural make up is allowed. Nail polish and lipstick are a hard no though, albeit the latter may be allowed for special occassions. If there's one thing my comrades have taught me it's that most men in the military got no clue about make up, so you'll probs get away with more than you'd think.

The exact rules however depend on your unit and what you do. Back when I was in sanitation I'd be working a pretty standard 9 to 5. Worked in the medbay and treated patients, kept the medical archive in order, pretty normal stuff. My superior allowed us to wear small ear studs. When I got deployed to another base I was almost lynched for wearing them. Really depends on the ones in charge.

As for hairstyles: Most units are fine with anything as long as your hair is up and out of your face. Now, we didn't have to use gel to keep stray hairs at bay. It wasn't that strict. Just don't use any flashy hair accessories and hair ties that match your hair colour. Oh, and your hair must be a) one colour and b) a naturally occuring one. The length doesn't matter as long as you're not Rapunzel. If your hairstyle is anything other than a pixie cut, you will have to wear a hair net under your combat helmet.

Do men and women stay in seperate dorms?

Seperate rooms? Yeah. Seperate dorms? Nope.

Sometimes you'd have couples who shared a dorm room. It's a whole process that your superior has to give his ok to, but I honestly wouldn't recommend it. Dorm rooms aren't exactly big. You need privacy? Well, that's too bad.

If you're lucky enough you get to have a room for yourself. Depending on what branch / base you're in, the rooms will be more or less furnished. Back when I worked at the ministry of foreign affairs, my room was pretty luxurious for milutary standards: TV, fridge, sofa, bed, desk w chair, a closet and a bathroom next door. That's definitely not the standard though. We usually had to buy and bring our own stuff, like blankets, fridge, decorations, whatever you'd need to make that cold room somewhat comfy. (Wifi is also not a given. Gotta get your own connection running.)

Flings, relationships, cheating spouses... How common is it really?

They do happen, though not as often as you'd think.

It's more common to hear rumors about who has smth going with who and these rumors can get BAD. As in reputation and career ruining bad. At that point there's gonna be an order from higher up to stop talking about these rumors and punishment can be quite strict. (Speaking of rumors...Hate to say it, but the more women a unit had, the worse talking behind others backs was.)

One thing that I always found particularly disgusting were relationships between higher ups and recruits. Yes, they happen. No, they're not allowed. These things are like open secrets. If found out and proven to exist, the superiors will be held accountable by military law. Outside of basic training it may be frowned upon if a superior were to enter any kind of relation with someone of lower rank, thought not outright punishable.

As for cheating... Well, I haven't enountered any cheating myself, nor heard of it (yet). Not saying that it doesn't happen, but at least over here in Germany it's rare. It's highly frowned upon and will open you up to rumors and... Not so nice treatment by comrades. Cheating on a spouse is punishable by military law. A soldier found guilty may be demoted in rank, suffer financial losses or even get dishonourably discharged.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Burn Bright White - A Niklas Kvarforth/OC Story.

It has begun, besties! Please remember, if you like it, reblog it. You've no idea how important that part is to me, and yes, a little comment wouldn't go amiss either. I love to hear that my readers have enjoyed it!

Tag list - In the comments. DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,464

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI! Also, while I have tried to remain as true to how Niklas is in reality as I can, I have to have a little creative freedom of my own with him in this. If you don't like it, simply scroll on by. Bitching isn't tolerated here. At all. Remember, it's fiction, not a documentary ;) It's also worth mentioning that while Taissa has qualities of being quite charming at times, she is not, by any means, a good person.

He felt his hand begin to itch, a figurative followed by physical manifestation, holding his phone in a loose grasp while unlocking the screen. Two seconds passed and he locked it again. Unlock. Lock. Unlock. Lock. Old habits die hard.  

Learning how to be anything different to who he always had wouldn’t come easily to him, and Niklas knew this intrinsically. The two sides within him at constant war with each other would continue that violent clash unless he fought harder, though.  

“I’m trying to be a better person.”  

His therapist had told him the more he spoke it aloud, the more the notion might sink in. He still scoffed at it, at himself. He heard exactly how it sounded, and it nauseated him without fail every time. How was somebody with as many demons dancing around his brain supposed to truly better themselves? Did he even really want to?  

“Yes. Yes, you do.” He wasn’t about to become something he wasn’t, a faded photocopy of the Niklas Kvarforth he’d been for so many years, whether that be by his own desire, mental illness, or what he’d armoured himself with in order to survive.  

He could, however, become someone a little more mentally sound and fundamentally still remain who he was. Not blacking out or having schizophrenic hallucinations was his primary goal, gladly now achieved thanks to the correct treatment. 

Indeed, he was certainly feeling clearer for his recent self-imposed stay within a mental facility, a carefully balanced cocktail of drugs alleviating his cerebral distress. It was the ones which couldn’t be sought from across the counter of a pharmacy that he knew he’d struggle most with, though. Hence the itchy hand.  

The rush of thousands of neurons racing at a billion miles an hour, pleasure receptors tickled by Bolivia’s finest marching powder was what he craved, now he was free to simply dial a number and have it delivered to his door within the hour. Unlock. Lock. Unlock. Lock... Unlock.  

“Ahh, so you’re alive, then?”  

He half smiled at Miika’s assertion. “Apparently.” He certainly didn’t feel it. A half existence, no drugs, no fun, no hedonism in the excess he revelled in. But at least his brain didn’t feel like it was trying to drown him in morosity. Or worse. Woo fucking hoo.  

“Usual?” An eighth of blow, always. He never deviated. Miika was only surprised his septum hadn’t by now, such was the depth of his habit.  

“Yeah.”  

“Within the hour.” The call ended, Niklas throwing his phone down at his side, lacing his fingers behind his freshly shaven head as he leaned back on the sofa, frowning at himself. Weakness. He couldn’t even be free of hospital for seventy-two hours without needing to call his dealer. Cocaine would very likely fuck up the tentative balance he’d actually put effort into achieving, but the side of him that courted chaos didn’t much care for that.  

Blow was an alluring mistress in that respect, and she always would be. At least weakness would lead to something that felt better than the monotony of an even keel, mentally speaking.  

“You must seek a path to finding your pleasure elsewhere, outside of the endless stream of narcotics and excess, Niklas.”  

Those trite words spoken by his therapist echoed around his head, his brow creasing slightly. Everything else mostly bored him to death. Naturally, his thoughts went straight to another pastime.  

He could simply distract himself with a woman, he certainly knew where to go to have one throw themself at him within minutes, with him having to do nothing more in way of effort other than show up. An easy lay. Oh, how boring they’d become to him, though. Securing a willing woman to bounce on his cock for the evening held no thrill beyond the act itself. They were all so banal. Square one loomed large.  

After zoning out for about half an hour, his long form hauled itself from the sofa with a grunt. A nearby Katze paused in her paw grooming to study her person, Niklas receiving her head thudding against his palm as he reached for her. Moving to the kitchen, he put on some music along the way, then poured a very large drink.  

Incredibly, he was fine to do so on his current medication, but had been strictly instructed that it didn’t give him a free pass to teeter into excess. So far, he’d actually been quite reserved. One the day before, two the day before that, a pleasant buzz tingling through his blood now that a few months of sobriety had vastly lowered his tolerance.  

Mind you, a Niklas-sized measure of alcohol was much, much larger than that of any average person. Unless the tumbler was half full, what the fuck was the point?  

A curt, yet sharp knock sounded the front door on his way back to the lounge, Niklas veering off course to go and let Miika in. Upon opening the door, though, it was not the burly strawberry blonde drug dealer he found upon the other side.  

It took him a few seconds to form words, so startled he was by the sight before him. Sexy just did not fucking cut it at all. “And you are?”  

Of course, he was expecting her brother. Miika had warned his younger sister that Niklas could sometimes be difficult. He’d also asserted that he’d likely come onto her, but then again, most people did. Besides, it was nothing Taissa couldn’t handle, and her brother knew this well. Hence why he’d asked her to cover the drop. 

“Waiting to be let in.” He still didn’t move, the tall man merely standing there with his eyes roving her unabashedly. She was used to it, Taissa sighing. It took little for her patience to wear thin. “Miika sent me.”  

At that, he swung the door open far enough for her to walk through it, the tall, lithe blonde striding through, Niklas feeling his pulse begin to quicken at the swing of her hips. His dark lord below... that was one hell of an attractive woman.  

She looked like a porcelain doll, with her hair gleaming, pale blue eyes, tits that were definitely too big to be hers by nature, and lord, that ass. Those legs. Those legs in those stiletto heeled, knee high boots, too, once of which she unceremoniously lifted to rest on the hallway table, unzipping the boot and pulling out a bag before fastening it back up again with a swift tug.  

All he could imagine was how those heels would feel digging into his ass while he piledrived her against a wall. Yes. He could definitely go in for some of that.  

“Stay for a drink and a line?” he offered, his eyes once again touring her appreciatively. 

“No,” she spoke firmly, holding up the baggie between her index and middle finger, her glossed pout gleaming in the bright light of his hallway. “Money.”  

He lowered his head, staring from under furrowed brows. “You’re rude.” His assertion seemed less offended and more amused, though. Offense wasn’t triggered easily within him. 

“I’m busy,” she huffed, looking agitated. “Stop fucking me with your eyes and pay up.”  

He almost laughed at that. She was acerbic, she had bite. He liked it. “What if I fucked you with my tongue instead?”  

Taissa would be lying if she’d stated her insides hadn’t pinched pleasantly at hearing a man that attractive offer such, but her facade didn’t falter. “As I stated, I’m busy. I want my fucking money. Now.”  

Oh, she was something else, Niklas smiling despite himself as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the required cash, offering it forth. She sauntered to him slowly, all feline glide, except hers was less housecat and more panther, taking the assortment of notes and handing him the bag.  

Giving herself a moment, she let her eyes wander. He was thick without being massively out of shape or overly muscular, very tall, liberally smattered in tattoos, and god, he smelled good.  

“For someone who’s busy, you like to linger,” he noted, the air around them seeming to crackle as they became drunk in the pull of one another’s intense, unflinching stare.  

“Can’t be helped,” she spoke, her eyes flitting to his mouth, her fingernail trailing down over the side of his neck, setting his skin to quiver. “Your beard is just the right length to really enjoy riding your face.”  

Hooking her finger beneath the thick, silver curb chain around his neck, she yanked him close, her mint-scented breath fluttering against his lips, turning her head to place a bite upon his jaw. “Maybe next time, big guy. If you work for it hard enough.”  

She breezed out of the apartment just as rapidly as she’d entered it, leaving Niklas standing there with his cock pressing painfully against the front of his jeans. He’d never ran after a woman in his entire life, but fuck, the urge to at least power walk after the enchanting blonde was a tough one to fight.  

The only enchantress he was to have a dalliance with that night was the cocaine in his hand, though, of which he truly couldn’t get up his nose fast enough. This then left him with somewhat of a quandary; he was high as hell, and only had Katze for company. No. That wouldn’t do.  

Picking up his phone, he called the only other constant in his life, his friend Bjorn, a fellow native of Sweden he’d met a few years ago after he’d done some digital artwork for Shining. He was a good time, unpretentious, and could keep up with Nikas’s heady excess. The perfect partner in crime.  

Except, that was, when he actually answered his phone. 

“Pick up, you fucking cunt,” he spoke tersely, aggravated. “Pick up!” He wasn’t about to be defeated quite so easily, though. Just because he didn’t answer the first time... 

Four more attempts over the space of ten minutes where what finally pissed Bjorn Nilsson off enough to grab his phone from the table. 

“What, Kvarforth?” he demanded, sounding somewhat irate. 

“Nice to hear your voice too, darling,” Niklas teased, lighting a cigarette. “I have an eighth of blow and the urge to go drinking. You coming?” 

He fucking would have been, had his friend quit in persisting to repeatedly call. “Nah, man. I’ve got company. Company who has my dick in her mouth right now.” 

Niklas rumbled a chuckle. “Answering while you’re getting blown? Either she can’t be that good, or you just wanna hear my voice so you can come faster.” 

Bjorn couldn’t keep his laughter in. “Don’t play with me, daddy.”  

“So, are you coming out, or what?” He didn’t immediately reply, making a noise that sounded halfway between a groan and a thoughtful hum. “Out of ten, what is she?” 

“Six?” 

His eyes widened a fraction. “A six? You’re contemplating over a six?” How fucking rude of him. “C’mon, you can come out with me and score a ten. Lose the chick and meet me here in a half hour.”  

He made a point, Bjron supposed. “Alright, see you then.” Needless to say, the girl he was with didn’t hang around for long enough for him to come, insulted at his casual rebuff of her efforts. True to his word, though, just under half an hour later the front door was hammered upon by the pounding of two hands.  

“There’d better be a fat line in there with my name on it, you fucking sexy, bald bastard.” 

Fuck, he’d missed him, Niklas grabbing his face and kissing his forehead. “Of course. Get the fuck in, brother.” 

True to form, Bjorn had snorted one of the two prepared lines before Niklas had even arrived back in the lounge, wiping his nose as he sniffed heavily. Ahhh, quality blow. His friend never scored anything less. “So, rehab worked out well for you, eh?” 

As always, Bjorn was a sarcastic fuck. “It wasn’t rehab, and you know it.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Rehab, mental hospital. Same difference. No fun,” he chimed, waving his hand dismissively. “You feeling better though? No more blacking out and seeing shit that isn’t there?” 

“None of that,” he confirmed, sinking his bourbon and pouring another, a measure for Bjorn too before grabbing the rolled-up note and snorting the remaining line of coke upon the coffee table. “Which is exactly what I wanted, to get that fucking bullshit under control.” 

“And the being a better person pledge?” 

Niklas side eyed him, lighting a cigarette. “I can be better and still enjoy myself, brother. Despite what my fucking therapist states. ‘Find your pleasure outside of narcotics and excess’, she said. Blah, blah, blah.” 

Bjorn raised an eyebrow, Niklas continuing. “I’m fucking great now the psychosis is under control. Plus, I’m only really a massive fucking asshole when I get completely wasted, so I won’t. See? Better person.” 

“Remains to be seen,” he grinned, earning a glare he cracked up at. “Oh, fuck off. I love you either way, man.” 

“You’re probably the only person who does. Drink up.”  

Bjorn looked mildly incredulous. “Hey, can you let me have my high hit me properly first?” 

“No. I want tequila and pussy. Stop being a bitch and hurry up, and trust me, if I can’t find anything decent regarding the latter, I’m banging you.” 

“Tease,” he snickered, picking up his drink and sinking it in one. “Alright, let’s go. I’m choosing the location, though.” 

“Fuck, no,” Niklas snorted, “you’ll have me in some fucking metal club. Nah. Not happening.” If he went anywhere beyond a late close bar, it was usually an underground hip hop club, or the Bandidos clubhouse. It was too much like taking his work home with him, frequenting a place where he’d be instantly recognised. Then again, the women there... the fucking women. Little effort, instant reward.  

It would be fair to say his hallway dalliance with the pneumatic, drug dealing blonde earlier had left him feeling somewhat restless there.  

“Where?” 

“Could you roll your eyes any higher, Kvarforth?” 

“Yes. Now, where?” 

“Roadhouse?” It was perhaps the biggest metal club in Tampere, the most obnoxiously loud and the least favourite of Niklas’s. Bjorn, however, loved it. Mainly because it was a meat market and the drinks were cheap.  

Well, if there was any other reason to go beyond scantily clad women and reasonably priced booze, he was yet to discover it. He would, though, for he had no idea that as he and Bjorn left his apartment, they were followed for the duration of the fifteen-minute Uber ride across the city.  

Yes. When Taissa Aho set her sights upon something she wanted, she went to great lengths to ensnare it.  

[fatehbaz]

The Chacoan peccary is so elusive that scientists believed it was extinct until its “discovery” in 1975. Today, only 3,000 remain in the [...] forests and lagoons of the Gran Chaco region, which stretches across northern Argentina, Paraguay and southern Bolivia, and comprises more than 50 different ecosystems.

Micaela Camino, who works with the Indigenous Wichí and Criollo communities to protect the animals and their land rights in Argentina, knows how difficult to find they can be. She has only seen one Chacoan peccary, or quimilero, in 13 years [...], but has fallen in love with the critically endangered mammal [...]. “I was told that the Chacoan peccary was extinct outside protected areas when I first started,” says Camino. “So when we found it, I thought it was great. We set up monitoring to find more in one of the most isolated parts of the dry Chaco. But then the loggers started to come.”

---

The Gran Chaco, South America’s second-largest forest after the Amazon, is one of the most deforested places on Earth.

Every month, more than 133 square miles is lost, cleared for vast soya farms and cattle ranches that export to markets in the US, China and Europe – including UK supermarkets, according to a joint Guardian investigation in 2019. However, the loss is largely ignored on the international stage, receiving little conservation money or celebrity attention in comparison with the Amazon.

---

The area is home to charismatic species such as the maned wolf, the giant armadillo and the jabiru, many of which are not found anywhere else on Earth.

At current rates of deforestation, the mosaic of life in the Gran Chaco could collapse entirely. The loss of the Chacoan peccary would be guaranteed this time. Unlike the Amazon, there are few academic studies on tipping points and the forest’s waning ability to support itself as the climate changes and land is cleared, but people who live here are seeing the changes. [...]

---

In Paraguay, the success [of farming and ranching] [...] has transformed the country into one of the most important beef producers in the world, largely at the expense of the forest, dubbed “the green hell” by early settlers from Canada.

“The Gran Chaco has been at a crossroads for a long time,” says Gastón Gordillo, a professor of anthropology at the University of British Columbia. “The 2007 forest law in Argentina did manage to slow some deforestation, but it also created the paradox by establishing legitimate ways of destroying the forest.” [...] However, a new motorway in Paraguay appears likely to open up more of the region to ranching. “The agribusiness sector in Argentina is very powerful,” says Gordillo [...]

For the Chacoan peccary, research indicates there are only 30 years left to save the species, with current deforestation rates meaning all of its habitat outside protected areas will have gone by 2051.

---

Headline, images, captions, and text by: Patrick Greenfield. “Deforestation piles pressure on South America’s elusive Chacoan peccary.” The Guardian. 31 January 2023. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks added by me.]

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Martín Miguel de Güemes:

a. He was a gaucho (very important), not your classic white argentinian procer! and for that he was kind of deleted from history for many time 😥. He had a cool beard. Also had an iconic sister✨. Plus his relationship with Belgrano it's so interesting and the letters they sent each other are kinda fruity. Something I took from wikipedia to resume his contributions: "Estratégicamente, la actuación de Güemes en la guerra de la Independencia argentina fue crucial: sin su desesperada resistencia no hubiera sido posible defender la frontera norte del actual país, ni hubieran sido posibles las campañas del general San Martín que permitieron obtener tanto la Independencia de Chile como la posterior Independencia del Perú. Bajo su mando, las ciudades de Salta y Jujuy y su campaña defendieron al resto de las provincias de abajo, sin ayuda exterior. Sin embargo, en Buenos Aires Güemes no era visto así: la noticia de su muerte fue publicada bajo el título "Ya tenemos un cacique menos"; el artículo que lo anunciaba demostraba más alivio por la muerte de un enemigo ideológico que pesar por la pérdida de la ciudad de Salta en manos realistas. Durante la mayor parte del siglo xix, tanto en Salta como en el resto de la Argentina, la figura de Güemes fue interpretada solamente como la de un caudillo que había soliviantado a las masas campesinas contra las clases altas de la sociedad, situación que el patriotismo demostrado a lo largo de su carrera militar no alcanzaba a compensar."/ "Strategically, Güemes's performance in the Argentine War of Independence was crucial: without his desperate resistance it would not have been possible to defend the northern border of the current country, nor would the campaigns of General San Martín have been possible that allowed Chile to obtain both its Independence and the subsequent Independence of Peru. Under his command, the cities of Salta and Jujuy and his campaign defended the rest of the provinces below, without outside help. However, in Buenos Aires Güemes was not seen that way: the news of his death was published under the title "We already have one less cacique"; The article that announced it demonstrated more relief for the death of an ideological enemy than regret for the loss of the city of Salta in royalist hands. During most of the 19th century, both in Salta and in the rest of Argentina, the figure of Güemes was interpreted only as that of a leader who had stirred up the peasant masses against the upper classes of society, a situation that patriotism demonstrated throughout his military career was not enough to compensate."

Juana Azurduy:

a. “Fue una patriota del Alto Perú (actual Bolivia) que luchó en las guerras de independencia hispanoamericanas por la emancipación del Virreinato del Río de la Plata contra la Monarquía española y asumió la comandancia de las guerras que conformaron la denominada Republiqueta de La Laguna, por lo que su memoria es honrada en Argentina y en Bolivia”

b. “a total girlboss”