#Methyl-Life

[lorib643]

Methylation

Methylation risk variant results MTHFR, CBS, COMT, MTR and MTRR I had a DNA test done through ancestry. I sent the results to Life DNA and got some information. They had an offer on methylation genes so I had that analyzed. Out of 10 genes, 7 had risk variants. The variants are not unusual. Some of them lead to an increase in homocysteine which when increased can be a heart attack risk.  I …

[aheeheemwhimper]

since when can your life expand to be able to encompass all that you wish to be doing with it? how long could so much more have been incorporated into it while instead it was shrinking as you removed every significant aspect from it?

[love-belle]

loved you three summers !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which she's living her dream and he's just her biggest supporter.

or

for when you know it'll be them, forever and always. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // pierre gasly x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - hope u like it!! thank you so much for reading, i love you <3 requests are still open!!

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, lilymhe, yourbestfriend and 357,825 others

pierregasly missing this one and her astonishing but understandable lack of enthusiasm about life

tagged yourusername

5,528 comments

username she's so pretty oh my god

username genuine question can pierre fight

-> yourusername no he cannot

-> pierregasly stfu yes i can

username she's so me

username THIS COUPLE OMG

username in love with their relationship like ❤️❤️❤️❤️

landonorris missing my uno opponent

-> yourusername miss making you cry during uno

-> landonorris IT WAS ONE TIME LET IT GO

username i want her

yourusername missing u and ur annoying gossip too ig

-> pierregasly don't act like u don't text me everyday ASKING for gossip

-> yourusername lies

username they're so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by pierregasly, lilymhe, danielricciardo and 57 others

yourusername duality of student life

26 comments

landonorris can u even handle that much alcohol ?

-> yourusername says the one who passed out after drinking tequila

-> landonorris I WAS TIRED OKAY

danielricciardo i would drink colourful shit in the first picture

-> yourusername my dude that's phenolphthalein and methyl orange

lilymhe missing u so bad rn

-> yourusername too real missing my wife :///

carlossainz55 please call pierre he's crying

-> pierregasly STFU NO IM NOT

-> yourusername HELP OMG

pierregasly TOTALLY not crying because i love you!!!!!!! NOT at all!!!!!!!!!!

-> yourusername ofc!!!!!!!!! i believe u!!!!!!!!

pierregasly i love you ❤️

-> yourusername je t'aime ❤️

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, yourbestfriend and 796,327 others

pierregasly when she's in love with you AND a phd student

tagged yourusername

4,691 comments

username HELP THAT'S SO CUTE

username oh my god i want this?????? so bad?????

username I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE

landonorris proof that y/n is secretly a hopeless romantic

-> yourusername don't spread misinformation x

-> pierregasly she literally sent me 56 messages saying she loves me

-> yourusername and ur blocked.

username THESE BITCHES SO IN LOVE IM SICK

username pls be mindful of the single people on this app 🙏

username im so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ about them

danielricciardo that skeleton in the last slide in so me like i can't explain it

-> pierregasly "that's daniel idk why or how" is what she said when she sent that to me

-> yourusername and i spoke nothing but the truth

yourusername who said im in love with u?????

-> pierregasly "i love u so much ur so pretty and im so lucky to have u like idk im just so in love with u" ok.

-> yourusername ALL MY TEXTS ARE UNDER MY COPYRIGHT BUT OK GO AHEAD

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by pierregasly, carmenmmundt, danielricciardo and 68 others

yourusername i've loved you three summers now honey but i want 'em all

tagged pierregasly

27 comments

charles_leclerc you should know that he's been giggling at this post for 20mins

-> yourusername LMFAOOOO

-> pierregasly STOP

landonorris omg she has feelings!!!!!!!! shocking!!!!!!!

-> yourusername this is why i have you saved as "stupid asshole" in my phone

lilymhe it's hard to see my gf with another man 🫤🫤🫤

-> yourusername he's just a side hoe babe dw abt it

lewishamilton roscoe misses u 🫶🏼

-> yourusername i miss my godson :///

danielricciardo PARENTS

-> yourusername SON????

-> pierregasly we have one but thanks

-> carlossainz55 YOU'RE PREGNANT?????

-> carmenmmundt OH MY GOD

-> alex_albon HELLO THIS IS HUGE

-> charles_leclerc WOAH

-> yourusername PIERRE U STUPID FUCK

-> pierregasly I MEANT SON AS IN OUR CAT WHAT THE FUCK

pierregasly i love you ⁉️

-> yourusername EVERYONE THINKS IM PREGNANT THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT

-> yourusername (i love u so much)

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Brandt's Bat: researchers once documented a case in which a Brandt's bat had survived in the wild for more than 40 years, making this the longest-living bat species in the world

In 1964, a wild Brandt's bat (Myotis brandtii) was captured, banded, and released by researchers in the Biryusa region of Siberia. The very same bat was eventually recaptured by another team of researchers in 2005; it would have been at least 41 years old by then, making it the oldest bat ever recorded.

The previous record-holder was also a Siberian Brandt's bat (with an estimated age of 38 years).

There are twelve other species within the genus Myotis that have been documented living past the age of 20, but the lifespan of the Brandt's bat is exceptionally long, especially compared to other small mammals.

This species (and the longevity of a few other bat species) defies our conventional understanding of the relationship between an animal's size and its lifespan -- smaller animals normally have a much shorter lifespan compared to large animals, partly due to their higher metabolic demands, but these bats represent a rare exception to that rule. In fact, with an average weight of just 4 to 8 grams (which is roughly the combined weight of 2 or 3 pennies), the Brandt's bat has the longest lifespan of any mammal relative to its size.

Research suggests that its increased lifespan may be at least partially linked to a mutation in two of the genes that are related to growth. This article describes the results of one particular study:

Genes for two proteins involved in growth — called growth hormone receptor (GHR) and insulinlike growth factor 1 receptor (IGF1R) — showed changes that also appear among other long-lived bat species. Previous studies in mice and other animals suggest genetic changes in GHR and IGF1R are linked with longevity. For instance, mice with mutations in GHR live twice as long as normal mice, said study researcher Vadim Gladyshev, a geneticist at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston.

These same genetic changes also may be responsible for the bats' small size ...

"We think the bat's life span is, in part, an unintended consequence of its small body size."

There are a few other factors that may also play a role:

Brandt's bats also hibernate and roost in caves — behaviors that may help them avoid predators and extreme weather conditions, and contribute to their longer life span, the researchers said. The Brandt's bat also takes a relatively long time to reach maturity, and it does not produce many offspring — two characteristics seen in larger, longer-living mammals.

Note: nearly all of the articles that I came across refer to the 41-year-old bat as a "Brandt's bat," but at least one other source uses the term "Siberian whiskered myotis," instead. That term simply refers to the Siberian variety of the Brandt's bat (subspecies Myotis brandtii sibiricus) in particular.

Sources & More Info:

The Journals of Gerontology: A New Field Record for Bat Longevity

Bat Conservation International: Myotis brandtii

Nature: Genome Analysis Reveals Insights into Physiology and Longevity of the Brandt's Bat, Myotis brandtii

Nature: DNA Methylation Predicts Age and Provides Insight Into Exceptional Longevity of Bats

New Scientist: Gene Clues May Explain Why Brandt's Bat Lives So Long

[weeesi]

Laugh - May Prompts (13)

He drums his fingers on his thigh as he reads John’s text.

I’m late home tonight. Wait for me?

A mental exercise then, whilst he’s stuck in a cab to the Yard thanks to Gavin and his insufferable obsession with paperwork. He has seven minutes to revise his preferences. 

Life, he knows, and his life, in particular, is unpredictable. He had no control over its beginning and only in its middle did he manage to cobble together something he wanted. It’s unlikely he will have any say on its end. Regardless, he wants to be prepared.

The last thing he wants to wear: his Belstaff of course, and a freshly-pressed suit. Secondly, pyjama bottoms, one of John’s old t-shirts, and his blue silk dressing gown. Pants, optional.

The last thing he wants to eat: the thing with the peas. Also a 99 Flake (nostalgia, dammit).

The last thing he wants to smell: A perfect synthesis of methyl salicylate. Also John, ideally the skin beneath his left ear.

The last he thing he wants to see: the back garden of his childhood. Also John, any bit of him will do.

The last thing he wants to touch: the familiar comfort of his violin. Also John, ditto.

The last thing he wants to hear: John’s laugh. 

Nothing else will do.

He replies.

Yes.

+

Thank you to @calaisreno for the fun prompt series! Tags in the replies. Thanks for reading! <3

[pluralsword]

An Essay: Trans History and Retcons Regarding IDW1 Arcee and Her Spotlight

As we've slowly learned more and deeply immersed into IDW1 Arcee's writing over the years, finding much more than just kinship to her, we felt this urge to dig further, to understand, feeling threads that were there regarding trans history, but not having much knowledge regarding historical transmedicalism, so we dug. We dug because we wanted to show that Arcee's writing from 2012-2018 not only is a beautiful trans story unique in science fiction, but that her personality there and in part in her Spotlight (which absolutely did not intend trans stuff and walked into a minefield in that regard that inadvertently opened up the opportunity for the writing and consulting team in Phase 2 and Phase 3 to figure out beautiful character arcs for her) are direct successors of the original personality frameworks for G1 Arcees, and to show the impact and legacy of both Sunbow/Marvel and IDW Arcees along with more Arcees combined on many versions of her thereafter.

Here's the introductory paragraph:

In much of the last decade, a lot of people familiar with Transformers’ trans stories appreciate Arcee being trans and her arcs in that regard from 2012 onwards. But during those six years from 2012-2018 where her narratives that firmly navigated her agency as a trans gal were being established by a number of writers, with consulting help in 2015 for Ask Vector Prime and 2018 for IDW1, there was and remains uncertainty over how exactly that works for her, specifically for her comic iteration where her transness was first hinted and then plainly stated. The variety of understandings in this regard in part originates from her introduction to the IDW1 run, Spotlight Arcee, in 2008, which was received rather turbulently because of how it portrayed her gender and transformer gals at large. Writing years after would navigate resolving this rather beautifully as showing Arcee having struggled with transmedicalism, isolation, abandonment, loneliness, and alienation, the brutality of a violent (and androcentric) world, as many trans people across gender and parallel spectrums or lacks thereof have in real life. Her story is done in a wlw trans gal context in particular. She is shown getting closure on all this, finding her happiness by the end of that continuity that would along with her story at large as a sweet, ferocious, outspoken old warrior sage help set the tone for her portrayals afterwards. Much of this overlaps with how she was described in her The Transformers Universe bio all the way back in 1986. In these regards, we (the writer of this is plural, we'll have a note about that near the end) think it is pertinent to take another look at how her story played out, what was actually written and shown vs. what was intended, to navigate transmedicalist history that overlaps with her story, and to show that Arcee’s trans iterations are directly part of the legacy of G1 Arcee overall

also a brief fact check edit regarding HRT:

we said HRT only effects hormones but realized we should fact check that, and apparently for some people HRT does effect their genes!! (this is separate from the discussion of gender journeys and epigenetics which we personally know next to nothing about) this a deeply understudied topic you can read about it here:

Gender-affirming hormone therapy induces specific DNA methylation changes in blood

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

My story has a race that is able to shapeshift. How do they recognise or identify each other in different forms? Does their DNA change? How much of a difference how different the shapeshifting is? Like the difference between various humans. Or the difference between a human and something near human i.e elf or mermaid. Maybe if the DNA changes then there's a need for some kind of mental/soul recognition? But then a caterpillar has the same DNA as a butterfly so there is room for same DNA but butterflies have only 2 forms. My race will have thousands more options available to them, maybe they need a large genome. I mean that's possible. Salamanders have 120 billion base pairs although theirs are mostly junk. If my shapeshifting race has that but they are all active stuff that could work as a way to keep all the possible forms in their DNA like a butterfly does?

Tex: So we have answered questions on shapeshifting in some aspects before, which I think might be of interest to you (WordPress). I think a lot of this will depend on what species you’re using as a basis for your research, what your preferences are, and how willing you are to wave your plot-fixing wand to suspend reader disbelief, because there are multiple ways to go about this trope.

There’s a lot we know - and still don’t know - about DNA, regulation of gene expression, epigenetics, and junk DNA. Perhaps you could lean into methylation, phosphorylation, and acetylation as methods by which shapeshifting happens, even if in “real life” this doesn’t occur as the trope suggests.

A large genome does not necessarily equate to “more options”, and in point of fact genome miniaturization is often a reflection of a more efficient maintenance of genes a species actually needs, “junk” DNA notwithstanding (Wikipedia). Ergo, the deletion, duplication, and recombination of genes are a means to constantly determine the fitness of a species on a cellular level (Wikipedia).

[blueiscoool]

Meet Methuselah, The Worlds Oldest Fish in Captivity

The lungfish arrived in San Francisco on a steamship along with 230 other fish. Today, she’s the only living aquatic animal from that vessel.

She’s super-gentle, and doesn’t get overly excited. She enjoys eating earthworms, fruits and vegetables, and slowly moving around her tank. Her favorite food – at least for what is in season now – is a fig.

If Methuselah sounds like a grand old dame, it’s because she is: she is the oldest living fish in captivity, aged somewhere upwards of 92 and potentially as high as 101 years. She arrived on a steamship from Australia along with 230 other fish to the Steinhart aquarium in San Francisco in 1938 as a young, small fish. And Methuselah’s story unfolded in a typical way, for a fish in an aquarium: she grew. Humans came to look at her. She peered back through glass at humans.

But 1938 was a different time: bread cost nine cents a loaf. A racehorse named Seabiscuit was winning races. Germany was persecuting Jews, foretelling a coming conflict in Europe. Then there is Methuselah, who is no ordinary fish. She’s the only fish still living from the steamship. And most important, she’s a lungfish – a species more closely related to humans or cows than to ray-finned fish like salmon or cod – which can breathe air using a single lung when streams become stagnant, or when water quality changes. Lungfish are also believed to be an example of the original creatures that crawled out of water and moved to land in evolutionary history. The species was discovered in 1870 – and the scientist who first described the fish originally thought it was an amphibian.

Lungfish like Methuselah have long-held secrets, but scientists have only recently attempted to understand their evolution and life history. For one thing, the fish’s genome is the largest of any animal, containing 43bn base pairs – roughly 14 times the number in the human genome. The previous record holder, the Mexican axolotl, has a genome made up of 32bn base pairs.

“Genetics is really quite straightforward for normal fish – but for lungfish they’re so unique and so different that all of those techniques didn’t or don’t work,” said David T Roberts, a senior scientist with Seqwater, the statutory authority of the government of Queensland in Australia, where the fish still live in a handful of rivers in the wild. “It’s always pushed the envelope on uncovering some of its secrets to be able to manage and conserve it – and age is a really important one.”

A fish’s age is critical to know because it tells scientists information like growth rates, maturity, longevity and how long they breed – which is vital fundamental knowledge to manage a protected species.

Lungfish – a vulnerable species – have proved especially challenging to date because they grow a lot at the beginning of their lives, but then grow extremely slowly (yet continuously) for the remainder of their lives. Ear bones that are harvested after most fish’s death can be counted like tree rings, but lungfish, always the outlier, don’t have the same composition to their ear bones.

So scientists started to use radiocarbon to date the fish – relying on a technique that basically imprints living things with a carbon signature resulting from the atomic bomb tests back in the 1950s. But that doesn’t work well in animals born before 1950, when the carbon signature changed.

Now, scientists are using DNA tools that look at methylation – the way that DNA is turned on or off – to date the fish. For younger fish, it can offer an exact number, but for older fish it gives a range of dates.

It wasn’t the first time this technique had been used. Last year, scientists estimated a lungfish named Granddad that lived at the Shedd aquarium in Chicago to be 109 years old (give or take six years) at the time of its death, confirming that lungfish can live well over 100 years. The analysis also revealed that Granddad started its life in the Burnett River in Queensland, Australia, the location of the species’ original discovery in 1870.

In the study on Methuselah, aquarium workers took samples the size of a peppercorn from the lungfish in captivity and extracted the DNA from that in order to estimate their age for the first time ever. They found Methuselah to be at least 92 years old. The scientists plan to release their findings of 30 other lungfish later this year, as part of a library of living lungfish across the world.

“Knowing how long they potentially live and understanding more about how long they could reproduce could drive how we’re caring for habitat to help keep that species afloat in the wild,” says Brenda Melton, director of animal care and welfare at the Steinhart aquarium. “It just really opens the doors for a lot of other conversations and questions that might be able to be asked about how we can better care for them in the wild and preserve habitat.”

Roberts is inspired to continue to conserve the fish – after all, lungfish were around before dinosaurs became extinct, and their cousins possibly split off into animals with legs and then crawled on to land and then became humans, he says. “They’re a cousin to all land animals, basically.”

Methuselah’s age is now known, but she still holds other mysteries – even her biological sex. The handlers use she/her pronouns, but they actually don’t know if Methuselah is a male or female. Some fish have gender differences in size or shape – but not lungfish. And behaviorally, they suspect she’s a female, but they will not be able to find out for sure until after she dies.

Another question is if the fish is feeling old – and how do fish change when they’re geriatric? Melton says it varies widely. Most fish live only a few years – so it’s rare to see really old fish in the wild. But there are some hints: some spinal changes, like a curved back, or weight loss, cloudy eyes or looking a little gray in the scales.

Two of the other fish in the new study were estimated to be 50 and 54 years old – and Melton says they look a little more similar in coloration, while Methuselah has gotten a little lighter in color over the years. “We don’t know that that’s actually tied to her age, but it’s the only thing that we have seen physically that looks different for this fish.”

Melton says that just the existence of something that has lived for so long leaves her in awe. She wonders what Methuselah thinks of all her companions and living situations over the many years she’s spent at the aquarium – as the fish has the longest institutional memory of anything in the building.

“It’s incredible to me that after all of these years of having her in our care,” she says, “we’re still learning and we still have the ability to learn from animals in ways that we can’t even conceive yet.”

By Katharine Gammon.

[transgenderer]

The real or perceived proximity to death often results in a non-ordinary state of consciousness characterized by phenomenological features such as the perception of leaving the body boundaries, feelings of peace, bliss and timelessness, life review, the sensation of traveling through a tunnel and an irreversible threshold. Near-death experiences (NDEs) are comparable among individuals of different cultures, suggesting an underlying neurobiological mechanism. Anecdotal accounts of the similarity between NDEs and certain drug-induced altered states of consciousness prompted us to perform a large-scale comparative analysis of these experiences. After assessing the semantic similarity between ≈15,000 reports linked to the use of 165 psychoactive substances and 625 NDE narratives, we determined that the N-methyl-D-aspartate (NMDA) receptor antagonist ketamine consistently resulted in reports most similar to those associated with NDEs. Ketamine was followed by Salvia divinorum (a plant containing a potent and selective κ receptor agonist) and a series of serotonergic psychedelics, including the endogenous serotonin 2A receptor agonist N,N-Dimethyltryptamine (DMT). This similarity was driven by semantic concepts related to consciousness of the self and the environment, but also by those associated with the therapeutic, ceremonial and religious aspects of drug use. Our analysis sheds light on the long-standing link between certain drugs and the experience of "dying", suggests that ketamine could be used as a safe and reversible experimental model for NDE phenomenology, and supports the speculation that endogenous NMDA antagonists with neuroprotective properties may be released in the proximity of death.

[cleolinda]

Honey in perfume, feat. Bee (Zoologist, 2019)

(Picture from the Zoologist website, obviously, and not my magical cottagecore abode)

I am a big fan of (wearing very small amounts of) sweet gourmand fragrances, including sugar and honey notes. “Notes,” of course—nowadays, it’s not the real thing. While I have seen at least one or two indie companies touting actual honey in their honey perfumes, for the most part, it's an aromachemical: phenylacetic acid, derived from beeswax and generally combined with other notes to create an accord. This Fragrantica article tells you everything you could ever want to know about the chemistry of honey perfumes, including:

"Honey absolute" is generally beeswax absolute (technically not even an absolute), which has "a relatively mild scent, reminiscent of hay and tonka beans with waxy and honey undertones."

"Phenylacetic acid itself, in high concentrations, has a sickeningly sweet smell, really reminiscent of honey, with sour, powdery and floral nuances. In its composition, the nuances of tobacco and chocolate are clearly distinguishable – one, without imagination, can also describe them as a strong animalistic urinal smell, vaguely reminiscent of civet."

If you saw barrels with a bee symbol in Breaking Bad: that's the stuff. It is, in fact, used to make meth.

Other notes/aromachemicals used in various honey bases (abridged): vanillin, heliotropin, coumarin (often tonka bean), violet (ionones), hyacinth (phenylacetaldehyde), rose and wax (geranyl acetate), and a note only found in citrus blossom honey: methyl anthranilate.

In the "mellis" base: "benzyl salicylate (balsamic, herbaceous) and eugenol (cloves), [...] patchouli, hydroxycitronellal (lily of the valley), woody notes, spices, and coumarin." This is a foundation used in many of the classic older fragrances like Youth Dew (which my grandmother used to wear), Opium, and L'Air du Temps.

If you're interested in the chemistry, take a look at the article—the parts I'm quoting are only to get across the palette of scent possible in a honey fragrance. Guerlain creative director Sylvaine Delacourte also reels off an exhaustive list of honey notes in perfumery. I'll quote four of them:

Miel de Provence (Firmenich base): "tobacco, aniseed, honey, curry, immortelle, coumarin, hay"

Beeswax Absolute: "quite buttery, very honey-like, broom-like"

Phenyl acetic acid: "honeyed, fruity, dirty, a little blackcurrant"

Tabac Turc Absolut: "honey, animal, leather"

Dance break for further reading:

Fragrantica: Beeswax in Perfumes

Perfume Society: "We love what the nose Christine Nagel has to say about this ingredient: 'Honey has two facets – half devil, half angel. In Ambrée structures, it has a sweet, comforting effect, taking you back to childhood. But a small touch in a feminine structure can be extremely sexy…'"

Bois de Jasmin: Sweet Honey Water: Perfume Recipe from the 17th Century

Also at Fragrantica: Best in Show: Honey Fragrances (2020). Now, if I had a money tree, I would probably go straight for samples of Back to Black (Kilian), Scandal (Jean Paul Gaultier), Poison (Dior), Chergui and Miel de Bois (Serge Lutens), L'Instant de Guerlain, and Honey and the Moon (TokyoMilk). The sample I actually ordered was what I felt must be The Honey Scent of All Time:

Bee (Zoologist, 2019)

I had actually never tried a Zoologist fragrance before this; they're famous for animal-themed scents that range from the imaginative to the, uh, challenging. (And the infamous.) Here's the official description:

Like the frantic hustle of the bee through a maze of multi-faceted scents, Zoologist Bee delivers a surreal experience. The rich aroma of honey captivates, while alluring florals, royal jelly, animalic beeswax and regal incense unite to create a buzz, offering excitement, and the sweet rewards of life.

Perfumer: Cristiano Canali Top Notes: Orange, Ginger Syrup, Royal Jelly Accord Heart Notes: Broom, Heliotrope, Mimosa, Orange Flower Base Notes: Benzoin, Labdanum, Musks [synthetic], Sandalwood, Tonka, Vanilla

Now, glance back up at all the background business we just went through: heliotropin, coumarin (tonka), citrus that could include methyl anthranilate. Sylvaine Delacourte invokes mimosa and broom in her full list of notes—

But then: royal jelly apparently has a cheesy, condensed milk scent; she also mentions that beeswax absolute can read as "buttery." For that matter, her mention of a "butyric" honey aromachemical is a bit alarming: it's the "rancid butter, parmesan cheese, and vomit" note that makes Hershey's chocolate so objectionable to people who didn't grow up with it. Like, it's all here if you google know what you're looking at. It's all fun and games until the bee cheese comes out.

And then, labdanum, as you might remember, is the key ingredient in amber accords, where it's often blended with benzoin and vanilla, so we're going to get a warm, resinous, highly projective effect as well. I love amber, but I have to apply it exceptionally sparingly: it's LOUD.

What I'm getting at is, once you look more closely at the notes and the chemistry: I am not surprised that some wearers report a claustrophobic feeling like their head is stuck in a beehive. If your skin chemistry emphasizes the floral notes, it's said that you'll feel like you're right there soaring with the bees among the wildflowers; if you amp the cheesy, waxy, or A M B E R notes, well. There's nothing I can do to save you now. Remember Tabac Turc Absolut ("honey, animal, leather") up there? Or that phenylacetic resemblance to civet? Zoologist is famous for (surprise!) their intensely animalic fragrances. We don’t know exactly what Cristiano Canali used, but we sure do know what’s possible. You are IN that hive with the bees. Hope you brought some pollen as a hostess gift.

I always apply, like, three entire molecules of perfume when I first try something, so I was fine. On me, Bee has a creamy-yet-powdery "texture"—not dairy, not "old lady" powder; something almost tactile. The honey itself is primarily what I smell, and it’s "high" in my nose; I think I would have preferred a deeper note, like the dark clover honey I use in my tea, but it's nice. I don't specifically smell any ginger or florals—maybe a little citrus. Nothing cheesy or objectionable, barely waxy, just a general sense of hive. But Bee does seem—alive. It seems to move in the air around my wrist.

And it persists for hours, despite how little I wore (three different occasions), especially since my skin does amplify amber notes. If you find yourself in trouble, it is not going to wash off. DO NOT SPRAY BEE ALL OVER YOURSELF. DO NOT. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR CHOICES. I really enjoy honey fragrances and this one in particular, but—you have been warned.

Addendum: It was extra fun to edit this out on the deck under a cherry laurel with about 7-8 bumblebees circling overhead. They were chill.

[science-lover33]

Exploring the Marvels of Biological Macromolecules: The Molecular Machinery of Life (Part 3)

Nucleotide Structure: The Building Blocks

Nucleotides, the monomers of nucleic acids, consist of three fundamental components:

1. Phosphate Group (PO4): Provides a negatively charged backbone for the nucleic acid strand.

2. Pentose Sugar: In DNA, it's deoxyribose; in RNA, it's ribose. The sugar moiety forms the framework of the nucleotide.

3. Nitrogenous Base: Adenine (A), Guanine (G), Cytosine (C), Thymine (T) in DNA, and Uracil (U) in RNA. These bases are responsible for the genetic code.

DNA (Deoxyribonucleic Acid): The Repository of Genes

DNA is a double-stranded helical molecule, with each strand composed of a linear sequence of nucleotides. It encodes the genetic information necessary for an organism's development, growth, and functioning. The Watson-Crick base pairing rules—A with T and C with G

DNA (Deoxyribonucleic Acid): The Repository of Genes

DNA is a double-stranded helical molecule, with each strand composed of a linear sequence of nucleotides. It encodes the genetic information necessary for an organism's development, growth, and functioning. The Watson-Crick base pairing rules—A with T and G with C—ensure DNA's complementary and faithful replication.

RNA (Ribonucleic Acid): From DNA's Blueprint to Protein Synthesis

RNA plays diverse roles in the cell, including serving as a messenger (mRNA) for protein synthesis, a structural component of ribosomes (rRNA), and an adapter molecule (tRNA) that brings amino acids to the ribosome during translation. Unlike DNA, RNA is often single-stranded and contains uracil (U) instead of thymine (T).

Genome Organization and Chromosomes

Genomic DNA is organized into chromosomes within the cell nucleus. These structures enable efficient storage, replication, and transmission of genetic information during cell division and reproduction.

Replication and Transcription

DNA replication ensures the faithful duplication of genetic material during cell division, while transcription converts DNA into RNA, providing a template for protein synthesis.

Translation

The cellular machinery, composed of ribosomes and tRNA, reads the mRNA code and assembles amino acids into polypeptides during translation, ultimately forming functional proteins.

Genetic Code

The genetic code, a triplet code of nucleotide sequences (codons), dictates a protein's sequence of amino acids. It is nearly universal, with only minor variations across species.

Epigenetics

Epigenetic modifications, such as DNA methylation and histone modifications, regulate gene expression without altering the underlying DNA sequence, pivotal in development and cell differentiation.

Macromolecular interactions are the essence of cellular life. Within the complex microcosm of a cell, countless molecules engage in precise and choreographed dances, forming intricate networks that govern every facet of biology. These interactions, governed by the principles of biochemistry, are the foundation upon which life's processes are built.

Amino Acids: The Building Blocks

Proteins are composed of amino acids organic molecules that contain an amino group (-NH2), a carboxyl group (-COOH), a hydrogen atom, and a distinctive side chain (R group). There are 20 different amino acids, each with a unique side chain that confers specific properties to the amino acid.

Primary Structure: Amino Acid Sequence

The primary structure of a protein refers to the linear sequence of amino acids in the polypeptide chain. The genetic information in DNA encodes the precise arrangement of amino acids.

Secondary Structure: Folding Patterns

Proteins don't remain linear; they fold into specific three-dimensional shapes. Secondary structures, such as α-helices and β-sheets, result from hydrogen bonding between nearby amino acids along the polypeptide chain.

Tertiary Structure: Spatial Arrangement

The tertiary structure is the overall three-dimensional shape of a protein, determined by interactions between amino acid side chains. These interactions include hydrogen bonds, disulfide bridges, ionic bonds, and hydrophobic interactions.

Quaternary Structure: Multiple Polypeptide Chains

Some proteins, known as quaternary structures, comprise multiple polypeptide chains. These subunits come together to form a functional protein complex. Hemoglobin, with its four subunits, is an example.

Protein Functions: Diverse and Essential

Proteins are involved in an astounding array of functions:

1. Enzymes: Proteins catalyze chemical reactions, increasing the speed at which reactions occur.

2. Structural Proteins: Proteins like collagen provide structural support to tissues and cells.

3. Transport Proteins: Hemoglobin transports oxygen in red blood cells, and membrane transport proteins move molecules across cell membranes.

4. Hormones: Hormonal proteins, such as insulin, regulate various physiological processes.

5. Immune Function: Antibodies are proteins that play a crucial role in the immune system's defense against pathogens.

6. Signaling: Proteins are critical in cell signaling pathways, transmitting information within cells.

Protein Denaturation and Folding

Protein Diversity: The vast diversity of proteins arises from the combinatorial possibilities of amino acid sequences, secondary structure arrangements, and three-dimensional conformations.

Nucleic acids, the remarkable macromolecules that govern all living organisms' genetic information, are life's quintessential molecules. These complex polymers of nucleotides play an unparalleled role in the storage, replication, and expression of genetic information, shaping the development, characteristics, and functions of every living entity on Earth. Let's embark on an exploration of the intricate world of nucleic acids.

Nucleotide Structure: The Building Blocks

Nucleotides, the monomers of nucleic acids, consist of three fundamental components:

1. Phosphate Group (PO4): Provides a negatively charged backbone for the nucleic acid strand.

2. Pentose Sugar: In DNA, it's deoxyribose; in RNA, it's ribose. The sugar moiety forms the framework of the nucleotide.

3. Nitrogenous Base: Adenine (A), Guanine (G), Cytosine (C), Thymine (T) in DNA, and Uracil (U) in RNA. These bases are responsible for the genetic code.

DNA (Deoxyribonucleic Acid): The Repository of Genes

DNA is a double-stranded helical molecule, with each strand composed of a linear sequence of nucleotides. It encodes the genetic information necessary for an organism's development, growth, and functioning. The Watson-Crick base pairing rules—A with T and G with C—ensure DNA's complementary and faithful replication.

RNA (Ribonucleic Acid): From DNA's Blueprint to Protein Synthesis

RNA plays diverse roles in the cell, including serving as a messenger (mRNA) for protein synthesis, a structural component of ribosomes (rRNA), and an adapter molecule (tRNA) that brings amino acids to the ribosome during translation. Unlike DNA, RNA is often single-stranded and contains uracil (U) instead of thymine (T).

Genome Organization and Chromosomes:

Replication and Transcription: DNA replication ensures the faithful duplication of genetic material during cell division, while transcription converts DNA into RNA, providing a template for protein synthesis.

Translation: The cellular machinery, composed of ribosomes and tRNA, reads the mRNA code and assembles amino acids into polypeptides during translation, ultimately forming functional proteins.

Genetic Code: The genetic code, a triplet code of nucleotide sequences (codons), dictates the sequence of amino acids in a protein. It is nearly universal, with only minor variations across species.

Epigenetics: Epigenetic modifications, such as DNA methylation and histone modifications, regulate gene expression without altering the underlying DNA sequence, pivotal in development and cell differentiation.

Macromolecular interactions are the essence of cellular life. Within the complex microcosm of a cell, countless molecules engage in precise and choreographed dances, forming intricate networks that govern every facet of biology. These interactions, governed by the principles of biochemistry, are the foundation upon which life's processes are built.

[agapi-kalyptei]

pop culture of central europe in 1990s: drugs will make you LAZY and MISERABLE and you will live in filth and will most definitely RUIN YOUR LIFE

my friend after 10µg of 1-(thiophene-2-carbonyl)-N,N-diethyl-6-methyl-9,10-didehydroergoline-8β-carboxamide: wow. life really is worth living. I can conquer depression this winter. Cleaning my apartment is so pleasant when your body doesn't hurt

[im-a-simp898]

eats u

Seriously? You're really serious right now? I cannot tell if I have sensory problems or if I actually just witnessed a statement with such an immense amount of sheer stupidity. You know, I have seen the most bizarre things from some guy in class jerking it to Ronald Reagan tentacle hentai, to people linking Chernobyl to penis-shaped aliens, but your comment is by far the most fucking idiotic thing I have ever had the kind of horrible fucking luck one requires to hear your stupid fucking post. From this point on, when I think of you, I will imagine a diseased turtle taking an enormous dump, with so much unbelievably large amounts of shit that all the protons inside of the methyl sulfide this horrendous crap contains spontaneously fuse into uranium-235 that I can use to shove a nuke up your sub-mental ass. You can write that off as an exaggeration but it is 100% true from the bottom of my already-empty heart. I legitimately think that you lack intelligence. I would say you're mentally unstable but then I couldn't blame the terribly ignorant fucking post on you. I literally cannot comprehend how amazingly dimwitted your dumb ass is. I have trouble understanding the laws of physics, space, and time as if all laws of reality have been devastated and disintegrated due to how dense you are. I could write a damn book on your lack of intelligence that is so long, one could read the entire Series of Unfortunate Events series, watch the entire Godfather trilogy, and invent fucking time travel itself before it could even be published under a first edition. Half-Life 3 would be released centuries before I could finish the first chapter describing your purely pointless state of mind. I honestly cannot tell if you were abused too much or not abused enough, because you clearly did not go to school enough to get a proper fucking education. To quote George Washington, "Associate with men of good quality if you esteem your own reputation; for it is better to be alone than in bad company." In that case, I'm getting as far away from you as possible. Hell, I'm actually unironically considering moving to Macquarie Island just to be isolated from your brain cell-killing words for the rest of my now-miserable life. I would rather go insane from thinking about you to the point where I pull a Cast Away and consider sexual relations with a volleyball than actually spending time anywhere near you. There is honestly no other way of putting it; you're an irritating asshole who contributes absolutely nothing to this already dreadful planet. And that's saying a lot considering the fact that I've heard of carbon dioxide levels reaching 400 parts per million, Donald Trump becoming president, and toxic fucking comment sections that contain your stupid bullshit. And again I go, being confused by whatever quantum physics you are using to defy the laws of physics with your stupidity, to the point where I'm saying you are worse than yourself. I have nothing else that is most definitely as horrible as you to compare to except you yourself. How does that make you feel? Like a turtle taking a nuclear shit? I really don't have a single shit to give anyway, because you are living proof that there is no hope for humanity left. Really went downhill after that whole thing where Rome fell; that made a lot of people pissed off. But not as pissed off as I am after reading your stupid shit. No, buddy, if I should even call you that, I am not pissed off at your comment. I am FURIOUS. I am so furious that I will personally take that radioactive turtle shit myself just so I can rid the world of your baffling levels of unadulterated doltishness. You are more dull than oxygenated magnesium or even a samurai sword that hasn't been sharpened for a thousand years. And you better be glad that the sword is dull, because if it wasn't, it would be shoved up your ass just like the nuclear turtle shit. I am so fucking angry that even watching an Adam Sandler movie will make me happier than I am right now.

[fated-normal-767]

Realizing the likelihood that Ares had to have Aeolus as a nurse because of being trapped in a burning building for extended periods of time . I cannot imagine my life being entrusted to that walking drug psa

dude you don’t even know the half of it. Ares has inhaled methylated spirits, been trapped in burning buildings, and he smokes. She’s got asthma. And all that happens. Wouldn’t be surprised if they’re on a first name basis considering how many lung issues ares would end up with.

[bradshawsbitch]

the maiden who turned linden;

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

chapter summary; a peculiar reminder of rhett's night spent under the starry skies causes the townsfolk to stir in their drowse. and what talk is there of a lingering prescence in the woods?

chapter warnings; spoilers for outer range. mentions of alcohol, mentions of getting disciplined by parent, family woes, whimsy.

word count; 3.5K

Whispers. Always the breathless whisper upon parted lips - those whispers carrying stories through ever nook and cranny of a town.

Whispers from woman’s lips to childs, a man’s to another man, and from a woman to another woman. Such has life always been. Stories. Told, heard and forgotten. Repeated until its meaning has undoubtedly been convoluted, and no truth can be held within its message. Some might call these stories hearsay, or within this time - gossip. 

It is strange how words can hold such different meanings, given to them by the men and women who utter them. The meaning of a word - letting you know whether or not the trait is to be desired or not. Is she a story-teller, or is she a gossip? 

There is a notion that gossiping is a female trait, and that there is something inherently feminine within the way the happenings of man travel like wildfire through towns. Those who share this notion forget that the monks of early England’s more important job was to keep record of the happenings in their parish.

They, and they almost alone, saved the entire English language from the influence of Normandy. French, and Latin feared to overtake the entirety of England. Is that not gossip? A telling of a story? A story you may not know entirely… a story that you’ve only witnessed - but have yet to live?

So, when the rowdy young son of Royal Abbott arrived after a hard day's work on the pastures with his father and brother, and his mother ushered them to bathe, stopping at Rhett’s side to inspect his cheek - it somehow made its way through the entirety of Wabang.

For upon the young man's cheek sat a strange mark. Not quite a scar, nor a smudge or a shadow, faint but still visible - stretching across his cheekbone, like small stars had burst forward on his tan skin.

It was the one time Rhett had found himself doted on by his mother in a long time - her wet finger smudging over his cheek over and over again, trying to get the mark off.

She swore up and down, grabbing rubbing alcohol, even threatening to get the methylated spirit from deep within the barn to get it off. Rhett just smiled softly, pushing her hands away when she’d worked herself into quite a frenzy.

“Ma, stop. S’nothin’. Just a little mark, s’all,” he grumbled as she stood closer to inspect it.

“Well, Rhett, maybe you ought to have doctor Schneider look at it come the morrow if it hasn’t gone down. Maybe wear your hat instead of the cap so it’s not in the sun too much,” Cecelia muttered as she patted her son's cheek before getting on with her cooking. Rhett only licked his lips and smiled a lopsided smile before he moved on.

Folks in town gave the youngest Abbott strange looks as he walked the streets in his Stetson, the mark upon his cheek decidedly darker than the day before. Rhett did not mind so much, he knew he wasn’t much to look at anyways - and what was another scar to a battered bull rider and cowboy anyways?

Glancing at his phone, he noticed he’d gotten his errands in town done sooner than he figured. Perhaps he could sneak a beer at the handsome gambler before going home today. Just the one. 

Upon entering the dingy bar, he noticed the older townsfolk sat by the back. Closing his eyes, he damn near turned on his booted heel and left. But the call for a cool beverage on a hot day had him sitting down by the bar, hearing the loud speculations of some of the oldest folk in Wabang.

“You see that. That Abbott boy’s been marked,” said one of the men who must only be in his seventies. “Yeah, even Marge saw it,” the 87 year old cowboy retorted. Rhett rolled his eyes at their words; Marge, a woman who was older than sliced bread - 98 years of age to be precise, had a bit of a reputation of being Wabang’s most frequent gossip. Not only did she rave about the local lores - she seemed to have grown senile enough to believe most of them. 

One time she had greeted Rhett as an old friend and exclaimed ‘Oh, James, I haven’t seen you in years! Does not Liv miss you awfully? It’s a shame the townsfolk drove her away–’ she had trailed off, looking off into the distance as Rhett blinked down at the frail woman. He had no notion as to who James was, nor did he know anyone in Wabang named Olivia that was nicknamed ‘Liv with that strange pronunciation. 

“I’ll tell ya, Ma got awful up in her woes about it. Staff said she’d been up ‘till dawn ravin’ ‘bout it,” said her son with a sigh. “Don’t take that tone about your ma,” a man scolded him “Well what am I supposed to do, Brian?” the younger man (who was actually in his late fifties) defended himself.

“You listen to your mama, son. There’s always been strange goings on in Wabang, since before you were even thought of. Has your ma never told you ‘bout the wood wife?” a man spoke suddenly, effectively quieting the party of men. Rhett glanced over to see Marge’s son roll his eyes. 

“I’ll tell ya son, the tale’s been told more times than any man can fathom. She’s said to be the oldest creature of earth, that wood wife. Some think she’s immortal, and hides well within the forests, streams and mountains of Wabang - but your ma has told me otherwise. According to Marge, she lives among us for a while, her face never the same. And she does live long, perhaps that’s why the towns folk believe her to have everlasting life,” the old man let out a nasty cough that had Rhett cringing over his beer. 

“But no, the creature is said to live longer than any mortal man for sure - and she comes again after she has died. She can die like any mortal man. My ol’ man actually thinks he might’ve shot her in the woods once back in the day.” Rhett furrowed his brows at the way the man sounded almost proud of that fact. An indignant ember ached dully in his chest. Taking another sip, he wondered fleetingly why he cared about the fate of a fictional being. 

“Marge said she’s seen her in two different iterations - at the very end of a life, and later at the beginning of another. She carries the same soul, and memories, but her vessel is different each time,” Marge’s son was about to cut in, probably to kindly tell the man his mother was old and her memory frail, but the man continued on.

“She is said to have the purpose of guarding the nature and all it holds, but she is lonely. It is said that at the dawns of time, she was granted a love. A love she lost. And she spends her lifetimes searching for him. Sometimes she finds him, and some lives she lives on her lonesome.” silence fell over the elderly men, and Rhett’s face held a skeptical look upon it, eyes rolling as he sipped on his beer, mind finally made up as the tale seemed to end. Sounded like a crock of shit to him.

“So? If my old ma’s stories are god forbid, true, what on God's green earth has that gotta do with the Abbott boy and some new fuckin’ birthmark?” Rhett had to give it to the man, he was trying to be respectful, but Rhett couldn’t resist smirking into his beer.

“I told ya, the wood wife is fickle. She marks what is rightfully hers.” the older man explained as if it was as easy as the fact that the sky was blue. Marge’s son muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘horse shit’, and Rhett could only chuckle softly under his breath before downing the rest of his drink. 

Right before he ambled out of the bar, moving slow as to not let the men know he’d been listening in, he heard the eldest of them continue after a moment of silence;

“A long time ago, some said that men who bore that mark disappeared never to be seen again. We’re talkin’ way before Marge’s time. Would go in the woods, disappear into thin air. Jus’ like that.” Rhett stilled in his motion to pull his arms through his thin, worn jean jacket, brows furrowed a little, the marks upon his face tingling slightly. A flash of red appeared in his mind, and he had to blink rapidly to make the vision float away.

“I’ve heard she curses ‘em, wills ‘em to do her every bidding with that mark,” grumbled a man who had stayed silent through the conversation

“Nah, Miller, that’s a load of bull, my great gran told me that in her time if a man appeared marked he was hailed as the luckiest son of a bitch in Wabang, they used to–” at this, Rhett willed himself to leave, shaking his head as he pushed his hat down harshly on his head. Drawing in a shaky breath, he stepped out into the sun. 

All this talk of mythical creatures and marking had apparently affected him somewhat as he put his arm out to help steady himself against the warm bricks of the building. His chest felt tight, and that restlessness that he always felt to some extent, came back sevenfold.

Licking his lips, his breaths came out in short bursts. His head was swimming slightly as he raised his hand up to his cheek. As his fingertips graced the high point of his cheek, his whole body felt like he’d been zapped. Like that time when Perry forgot to turn the electricity off when he'd been mending the electric fence - and the world around him disappeared. 

“Up you get, boy,” the gruff voice of Royal Abbott rang out clear in the silent bar. Hoisting his son onto his legs as the younger man struggled to stand on shaky legs. “don’t know where the hell you get off drinkin’ like that when you know the day ain’t over by far. Y’were s’posed to help Perry brand the cattle.” Royal shook his head as he took in the form of his younger son. 

“’m not fuckin’ drunk,” Rhett protested groggily and his father scoffed, shaking his head and leading the way out of the pub before his son could finish that sentence. Royal knew better. Did the kid think he was born yesterday?

“I don’t wanna hear about it,” Royal grumbled, steering his son to the passenger side of his truck, slamming the door shut after Rhett had jumped in. The ride home was silent, and Royal was waiting for an apology from his son, feeling he’s earned it for all the trouble his son caused him today. 

“Listen, son, there’s a lot going on right now - I can’t have you stumbling around like a drunken fool passin’ out all over town.” Royal’s drawl was tired, and Rhett felt anger lick at his insides.

“Alright old man, so you’re sayin’ I can’t enjoy one beer but Perry can drink himself into a blackout and–” before he could finish his sentence he’d received a harsh smack to the back of his head. Royal had disciplined him and Perry when they were boys - which was probably why Perry acted out his anger physically sometimes, whilst Rhett made a point not to - but it had been some time since Rhett'd last felt that particular sting. 

“I’m sayin’ you can’t act like a fucking vagabond at times like these, Rhett!” Royal boomed as his truck screeched to a halt in front of their home “Fuckin’ anythin’ that moves and drinkin’ yourself more stupid by the day!”. Rhett didn’t answer, and only hopped out of the truck, slamming the door shut and making his way into the stables. 

“So you finally deemed it proper to show up huh, little brother?” Perry drawled, smirking as he stood leaned against the wall in the shadow, away from the heat of the sun's rays.

“You can fuck right off,” Rhett growled out as he hastily bridled his mare, ignoring her indignant stomps and whinnies at how unusually rushed he was. He needed to get away before his chest exploded with indignant anger, that uneasy and restless feeling still present. Just as he tightened the cinch under Sidda’s saddle, Royal appeared at the other end of the stable door, looking ready to continue his reprimanding. 

Hauling himself up on the animal, Rhett urged Sidda into a raging canter, leaving only dust and the raining pebbles that kicked up from under the horses hooves as he urged his heels further into her sides. He knew where he needed to go, where he needed to be.

As he neared the entrance to the woods, Rhett sat back slightly, easing up the pressure around the animal’s warm sides, and he smiled at how Sidda came down to a trot. Nearing the forest, she came to a walk and Rhett barely had to steer her before she trodded on down the beaten path, as if this was something she did regularly. 

Rhett had never taken Sidda to the lake. In the past he’d only ever taken his truck up to the path, or when he was younger he’d walk, or take his stubborn pony - Chuck. He’d never given much thought to how Chuck, a pony lazy and stubborn to a fault, had meandered into the forest so easily - when Rhett sometimes struggled to even get the damn thing to walk in a straight line for him. But now the thought nagged at a part of his brain that was seemingly held in the shadows.

As the sounds of the forest surrounded his senses, the anger and hurt seemed to slowly seep out of his very pores - and Rhett felt the need to take a deep, shaky breath as he gently rubbed at his sternum.

When had he ever reacted like that to getting smacked around by Royal? He usually gritted his teeth and went on as if nothing had happened at all. After all, it wasn’t so much the smackin’ that hurt, no that sharp sting went away after a few seconds. It was the words that continued to sting for hours after they were uttered. Sometimes days. Sometimes years. 

Sliding down from his seat in the saddle, he relieved Sidda of her gear - letting her roam in the small clearing as she pleased. The animal clipped her ears, her eyes alert but soft as he rubbed at the space between her eyes. After a moment's silence, Sidda leisurely strolled up to the lake, nostrils flared as she hesitantly let her muzzle sink into the lake, drinking some before moving along the side of the lake.

Rhett opted to remove his boots, socks, and jeans - leaving him in only his hat, white t-shirt and black boxer shorts as he took in the surrounding area in the soft daylight. To his delight, a thick branch hung low over the lake, and with a determined glint in his eyes, he climbed out on it, settling with his back against the trunk, letting his feet dangle and get submerged in the water. 

Heaving a sigh, he lowered his hat so it covered his eyes, before crossing his arms over his chest. The restlessness he felt before was all but gone now that he was there, and it felt as if muscles he didn’t even know he possessed were relaxing as he breathed in the scent of the forest around him.

For a fleeting moment he thought he might just move out here. Never go back to the ranch and leave Royal and Perry to run the damn thing by themselves if he was so much trouble. An infantile and petulant thought - but a thought nonetheless. 

The silence engulfed him, save for birds and wildlife. A small smile settled on his lips and he felt utterly relaxed as he finally let himself feel the exhaustion from passing out outside the handsome gambler.

“Who lingers by my lake?” 

Rhett felt his heart damn near jump out of his throat as he started, sitting up so fast his hat flew into the tall grass by the thick trunk of the tree. Trying to keep the balance he had disrupted proved fruitless, and his tall form fell unceremoniously into the dark waters below.

Breaking the surface, he sputtered slightly, his every nerve ending frazzled and alert. Cerulean eyes quickly scanned the clearing, stopping promptly at the vision before him.

Coming towards him, from across her spot at the other side of the lake, was a woman. Or was it a woman? Her movements were slow but deliberate, moving with grace as she walked along the edge of the lake, never letting her eyes leave him. Her gaze was intense. Too intense. And yet, Rhett could not for the life of him force his eyes downwards as he wanted to. 

“Who goes here?” 

Her voice was soft as she came to a stop before him, crouching down so her long red hair almost touched the surface of the water. Rhett was barely aware that his jaw had slackened, lips slightly parted as his eyes took in her appearance up close.

Her long, fiery red hair was the first he had noticed when he first saw her from a distance. Next came that billowy, white dress he had seen in his dreams.

Up close however, his eyes lingered on hers - soulful brown, much like a doe. Freckles dotted her skin, and he blinked as he recognized several constellations he’d spotted in the sky on her skin. Brows furrowing slightly, he finally noticed the slightly pointed ends that softly peeked out from behind thick strands of hair, right where the tips of her ears should be rounded. 

“What the f–” Rhett whispered, barely holding in the crude word he’d been about to utter. To his great surprise, the woman smiled - a demure sort of repressed smile. As if she knew something he did not. 

Blinking rapidly, Rhett tried shaking his head, wet strands flying slightly as he tried to shake the vision of the woman out of his head. His brain was working a mile a minute as he took her in again, for she had yet to disappear into thin hair, as the hallucination he figured she was. He noticed her hair was slightly knotted here and there, not in a rowdy way, but more of a delicate, swirly way. 

As if the woman could somehow anticipate his next move, she gently stood, making room for his tall form to climb out of the water. And he promptly did, muscles rippling under his wet t-shirt as he hauled his body out of the lake.

Standing in front of her now, t-shirt clinging to his upper body, hair dripping small droplets of water down his face, he noticed she was quite tall herself. 

“Who are you?” his voice sounded gruff to his own ears, after hearing her soft, melodious voice. His manners were all but thrown out the damn window, yet another thing he knew Cecelia would grumble about. 

“I have had many names.” the doe-eyed girl blinked slowly at him, tilting her head slightly as she analyzed his movements and reactions to her. And now Rhett felt he finally understood, realization washing over his face, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he scoffed.

“I get it. You’re with that Autumn girl? Didn’t know she had hippie friends,” he smirked “got lost did you? She’s back on the west pasture,” he nodded in the general direction of her camp. 

The girl looked amused, raising an inquisitive brow, letting silence fall between the two for quite some time before she spoke again.

“No. I have not yet encountered Amy out on the pastures.” 

That statement wiped the smirk right off Rhett’s face. This girl was obviously not of sound mind, Rhett thought bitterly to himself. Perhaps that’s the reason her feet were bare, and the sheer, flowy dress that looked out of fashion clad her form.

She had probably managed to sneak out of that behavioral institute over in Casper, Rhett figured. She should’ve been worse to wear than she was though if she’d hitchhiked or walked here. But her complexion was close to pristine, not a speck of dirt found on her form.

Rhett reached up to tuck a wet strand of hair behind his ear, a nervous habit he’d tried to rid himself of.

“Alright… if you’re not with Autumn, mind tellin’ me how you came to be here?” His voice was rough, nigh on accusatory. Technically, she was trespassing. The woman’s smile only widened considerably as he spoke, doe eyes wide, a peculiar emotion flickering in them.

“Oh... there you are…” her voice was no more than a whisper, barely audible. Her smile felt familiar, and the feelings it sparked deep within Rhett’s chest made him slightly uncomfortable. He watched as her eyes fluttered closed, lips still curved into a secretive smile as she hummed softly. Opening her eyes, she looked at him with a longing that nearly knocked the wind out of his lungs.

“Aurea.” she spoke finally “That is what I am to be called this time.” 

“Rhett,” the words spilled from his lips before he could stop himself. Licking his lips, he drew in a shuddering breath, only now noticing the feeling of peace that had completely settled upon him as he’d come out of the depths of the water.

“Rhett.” she repeated, her melodic voice making his name sound as if it was not just the name of a ruddy cowboy, but the name of the highest of deities. 

“I do so hope you will come back,” she smiled before turning on her heel, entering from whence she had come, leaving Rhett to wonder who, or what, on earth he’d just encountered. 

next chapter

ahhh!!! alright, how're we feeling after that??? thoughts?? is this rubbish? should I even continue? idk man! let me know!

tagging some people who might like; @endofdays56 @lt-bradshaw @rhettabbotts @wkndwlff @briseisgone @up-thereinthesky @roleycoleyreccenter @stormsouls @milesmillergf

[kiyubaru]

“Zashikiro” Temporary Edit　”Post-war Japan and a Mother”

The mother was elderly and gave birth to a baby with only one eye. The mother told her son, "One day I will surpass everyone else, and I will be the most beautiful mother in the world for you.” However, the townspeople slandered and spread bad rumors about the mother and child every day. His mother swore, “I will protect my child.” And so, she shed the black blood of her kin on Sakichi, and the two of them fell into hell. (The mother is rubbing her son’s penis. This is also based on a true story from Japan.) Before the war, his mother was born into a fishmonger’s family, and sold fish to “Karyukai” (the world of sake, geisha, and sex). After giving birth to Sakichi, she made a living as “Botefuri” (a job selling goods by carrying them). Having lost her husband in the war, his mother survived after the war by “Yamiya” (a job buying and selling goods on the black market amid the shortage of supplies after the defeat). After Tsukiji Fish Market reopened, he ran a fishmonger’s shop again in Kiryu, and sold fish to the Korean people living nearby.　(Gunma fishmongers purchase fish at Tsukiji early in the morning, transport it by train, and sell it locally.) During the war, Japan massacred and oppressed labor activists and socialists, and then invaded China and Korea. During the war, there were slums in Kiryu where Koreans lived. Sakichi’s mother again made a living by selling fish to the Koreans. (Interview with Director Harada’s mother) “In Japan there is something called ‘Hanaoka-jiken’. I understand why North Korea is still complaining about Japan. In the past, coal was the power source for trains and buses in Japan. Koreans and Chinese were forced to work digging coal. After the war ended, Japan killed them.” (Although not included in the interview, Harada’s mother and grandmother witnessed Koreans from a neighboring town being taken away by truck. They never came back. Someone from the city hall came and told the residents not to tell anyone about this incident.) As a result of Japan’s invasion of the Korean Peninsula, the methyl alcohol scandal occurred in Kiryu, and Sakichi’s mother had to stop selling fish to Koreans.

After that, his mother worked as a cleaning lady at a “Kenban” and “Okiya” (geisha offices) and a “Kamiyui” (barber shop), barely surviving on low wages. Sakichi was constantly called “smelly,” “disgusting,” and “a monster” by the children around him. The mothers of those children also ordered their own children, “Never associate with Sakichi.” The neighbors also spread gossip, saying, “Stay away from Sakichi and his mother and son,” and slandered them as “Katawa(crippled, disabled).” In addition, neighbors spread a false rumor that “Sakichi was born because his mother led a promiscuous life,” insulting the mother and son.

Sakichi’s grandmother told him, “Sakichi, your mother and this grandmother will protect you, but try not to go out too much. We will work hard, and one day we will try not to have people complain about us. There’s a proverb that says, "If a person lives honestly, God will protect him.” And since you are a man, live like a man.“ At the time, Gunma was a low-altitude training airspace for US fighter planes. This is an article from Akahata, the newspaper of the Japanese Communist Party, reporting on this.

(Drawing, photography, music: Hiroshi Harada, Voice：Chiyo Hayakawa, Toshihiko Hino, Ken Kamata, Yuko Yajima, others)