#also for science (fic)

[astriiformes]

One hill I will die on is that it's always infinitely funnier for mad scientist characters to have an actual area of expertise, and the narrower it is, the funnier it gets. Like, they're mad scientists. They can branch out from it. But it's a very special thing to be able to point to the person who built a death ray/engineered life in their basement/etc and be able to confidently state what they got their PhD in.

"Doc Brown is a mad scientist" Well yeah, obviously.

"Doc Brown is a mad physicist" Now we're getting somewhere!

"Doc Brown is a mad nuclear physicist" Specifically conjures up images of a guy who spent his PhD doing a million repetitive cyclotron tests and eventually said fuck this, I'm building a time machine instead. Comedy gold.

[madscientistenthusiast]

Vivisections are like gay sex to me

[lilybug-02]

Artfight against @ejsuperstar ft. The Mad King and Chip. They're both so evil. I hope they have the most extravagant downfall of any onscreen villain.

This interaction is based on a little fic writing >:)

[zishu-arts]

that’s HER human !!

[spirk-trek]

Contact Fanzine #6 | Merle Decker, 1979 These pieces were drawn for Home is the Hunter by Bev Volker, which can be read here in PDF format (beginning p. 214)

[somewhereincairparavel]

I'm so immersed in my jason grace new rome uni fic that I'm studying ancient roman law terms using this as an excuse. help.

[theshadowrealmitself]

It’s sad but the best version of Peter Parker to me (probably because it’s the most relatable one) is when he’s broke as hell, but at a certain point it doesn’t make sense for him to be such a genius without running a tech company, so here’s the bs reasons he’s still broke in the au’s I imagine:

He can’t partner up with anyone because everyone knows what happened with Dr. Connors, Dr. Octavius, and, depending on the au, Norman Osborn, which no one thinks Norman was working with Peter, but he is another person who knew Peter and became a supervillain

Essentially, everyone thinks he’s cursed™️

And he can’t sell any of his inventions on his own to start funding his own company because S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps getting involved and stopping it, both because whatever he creates works way too well and they don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands, and also because they’re all pretty sure that Peter’s gonna turn into a supervillain and they’re trying to stop him from gaining any power to do so

Also, because of all the above reasons, and because the best Peter Parker in my opinion is one that’s tired, snarky, and has a bit of an anger problem, that along with his genius, accidentally has everyone convinced he’s a supervillain in the making, the very specific dynamic that I picture Reed Richards having with him before he finds out he’s Spiderman is:



Peter Parker reminds him of Dr. Doom, he’s got the smarts, the anger, he’s a loner, and the way he commiserates on everything stopping him from achieving his goals (that famous way he blames his Parker luck on everything), just all reminds him of Victor, back when they attended college together

So he doesn’t get Peter to work with him, although he’d make such a promising mentee, cause he doesn’t need to accidentally get another supervillain to declare war on him, but also because he reminds him of Victor he can’t stay away, wanting some version of him to “see the light”

So occasionally he’ll begrudgingly team up with Peter Parker and the entire time he’ll awkwardly preach the merits of using science for Good™️ and how following villainy will only leave a person feeling empty inside, as his way of having a second chance at reaching Victor before he becomes Dr. Doom

Peter, meanwhile, has no idea this is how Reed sees their interactions, he’s just so happy whenever he gets a chance to work with one of his science heroes (then his identity eventually gets revealed and Reed has no idea how to view Peter)

[hishoukoku]

I am always so unfathomably overwhelmed by the look in Hua Cheng's eyes when he gazes at Xie Lian; always full of love, worship, affection and adoration.

The look only given to the one who saved his life,

the one who shielded him from pain,

the one who healed his wounds and protected him,

the one who believed in him when everyone resented him,

the one he died for and always would,

but also the one who became his entire meaning in life and for whom he continues to live, forever!

[shitouttabuck]

Hi! Hope you don’t mind my dropping in. I just read let the world have its way with you and thank you I had to sniff back tears on the plane it was so lovely 🥺😍. Question, and if you’ve answered this before I’m so sorry but I just have to know: how did Buck react when inevitably he sees the photos taken of him and Eddie at Halloween? Thank you again for this fic and I’m sending you all the good vibes of an unexpected humpback whale breech.

hello!!!! thank you so much for dropping in to say these lovely things!!! to answer your question: yes, a bunch of people have asked this actually, but no, i’ve never had a reply until now ! your message sparked something haha so here you go, have a little bucket list fic timestamp:

a thousand times (which isn’t half enough)

buck/eddie | 2k | t

“Oh, ow, what the fuck,” Buck says, wincing as he snatches back his hand.

Eddie glares at him, no hint of remorse while he crumples the dish towel he just whipped Buck’s fingers with before putting his hands on his hips in that perfectly bitchy way he’s got down to an art. “I’m supposed to be doing the cooking, I’m the one who’s actually made this before,” he tells Buck, stepping forward to stir the curry and jostling Buck out of the way. “You’re sous chef today.”

“And this is in no way an objection to that kitchen hierarchy, or a criticism of your cooking capabilities,” Buck says, hands up pacifyingly, “but Eddie. I’ve eaten this enough times at Ravi’s to know this is, uh, nowhere close to the colour it’s meant to be.”

“What do you mean,” Eddie frowns, stirring and peering down into the large saucepan, dent in the side courtesy of Buck’s clumsiness nearly half a decade ago. “It’s a—process. A culinary journey. I’m sure it’ll be the right colour when we’re done. It just needs some time.”

“Eddie, it’s green.”

“Plenty of curries are green. Thai green curry, it’s even got it in the name.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, trying not to laugh at the disgruntled furrow in Eddie’s brow, “I don’t think Ravi’s traditional beef curry is supposed to be green at any stage.”

Eddie’s face scrunches as he squints down at the curry he’s stirring, thick and aromatic and unexpectedly pea-soup coloured.

“Oh God,” he says, staring at the spoonful he’s ladled out. “You’re right. Fuck. How the fuck did it get to—this? Fuck, Bobby and Athena are gonna be here in—” He glances at the wall clock, “—an hour, oh my God, Buck, that’s not enough time to fix this.”

Buck rolls his eyes, hip-checking Eddie in a way he hopes is comforting but not bothering to try and ease any of Eddie’s—quite frankly ridiculous—anxiety about seeing Bobby socially for the first time since the engagement.

He knows the nervousness stems entirely from the fact that Eddie didn’t ask Bobby for his blessing before proposing to Buck, which he’s teased Eddie for endlessly, declaring it old-fashioned and archaic even if there’s something achingly sweet about the intentions with which Eddie went into it.

It did not end up prefacing their engagement. Apparently Eddie’d been testing the waters, gearing up to propose when he hoped the moment was right. Except, then, one night on the couch, watching telenovela reruns, Buck had made an offhand comment about the bride on-screen taking her husband’s last name despite being of the girlboss variety one might expect not to, and how in context it was a win for cheesy romance but maybe a hiccup for some kind of feminism somewhere.

And Eddie, one arm curled around Buck from behind, scratching at his stomach gently as he spoke, had sleepily and thoroughly unintentionally mumbled, “Would you wanna do that with me?”

Buck had blinked and asked what, and Eddie’d yawned and said, “Take my last name.”

Buck had laughed through the want and said, “Careful, Diaz, you might give a guy the idea that he’s being proposed to.”

And Eddie went stiff behind him for a full five seconds, Buck not daring to breathe either, before wrapping his other arm around Buck too, kiss to his temple and a quiet, “And if that was the idea intended?”

And so they’d gotten engaged and had to get the couch dry-cleaned and Eddie was made to pass on his well-meaning, antiquated desire to profess his intentions to Bobby prior to the actual proposal. Which is fine, obviously, but they’ve been engaged just going on three weeks and Bobby and Athena are coming around for dinner, and that, on top of committing himself to captaining an unfamiliar culinary adventure—something decidedly not in the Eddie Diaz wheelhouse—has Eddie strung the fuck out, mild and amusing as it may be.

“Okay, uh, I’m just gonna look at the original recipe again, not the one Ravi altered for white people,” Eddie says, looking around. “Can you get it? Phone’s charging in the bedroom, I think it should just be in the media roll of my chat with Ravi, he sent me a photo of his grandmother’s recipe book.”

“His grandma’s? What did you do to gain access to his family recipes? I feel like I should be jealous.”

“We exchanged abuela secret recipes,” Eddie shrugs. “You already have a direct open line of communication with my grandmother. I think you text her more than me.”

This is true; Isabel is a formidable opponent in online Scrabble and likes to get Buck’s thoughts on the weekly MasterChef episode. She’s his family as much as Eddie’s, and Buck was just teasing anyway, but he skips to their bedroom with a pleased grin nonetheless.

Eddie’s phone is nearly fully charged, so he just unplugs it, typing Ravi’s name into the message app search bar. A few clicks and then he’s snorting at the last image Ravi sent Eddie: a meme of Steve Buscemi saying how do you do, fellow kids? with a rainbow flag Photoshopped over the skateboard he’s carrying. Ravi’s succinctly captioned it, “you,” and Eddie has thumbs-downed it without deigning to respond.

Buck scrolls through the media roll quickly, scanning the images for something that resembles a recipe book or an old lady’s handwriting. It’s mostly memes, some goofy photos of each other taken on one of their phones during slow shifts, and—that’s a picture of Buck. Two pictures of Buck.

He pauses, frowning at the adjacent squares in the media roll. It’s not that it’s unexpected that Eddie and Ravi would have photos of Buck, it’s just—Buck’s usually seen them, too. He has most definitely not seen these pictures.

He clicks on the first one, feeling almost nervous. And, oh. It’s from Halloween the year before last, when everyone else was sick and he and Eddie went to that big gay party. He’s in his Sandy get-up, looking—pretty slutty, actually. He hums appreciatively, re-experiencing the leather pants and crop top and heels. In the photo, his eyes are shut, head tilted back to the music, cheeks pink and red-painted lips ajar. And then he takes in the other side of the photo.

Eddie, watching Buck through the crowd not unlike a lion zeroing in on a gazelle. His mouth is parted too, but—his eyes. It’s like he’s undressing Buck right there in public with just his gaze. Jesus, it’s like he’s doing so much more than undressing him—Buck half-expects the picture to swirl into motion, see Eddie stride across the dance floor and bend Buck over in front of everyone present.

It's not a wholly unfamiliar expression now, to Buck who’s had Eddie like this for over a year, but this was from before they were together. This was before Buck knew Eddie wanted him in any way but platonic. And even then, the kind of raw, unmasked desire plastered across Eddie’s face? Like he wants to swallow Buck whole and keep him there, inside Eddie, close as possible, for the rest of time? That’s the kind of intensity Eddie only reveals on occasion, a vulnerability that’s a certain effort to access.

That doesn’t mean Eddie holds back or censors himself in their sex lives, not anymore, not for a long time now. It’s just—this is the kind of want that comes from a place without adequate words to communicate it, a near animal desperation that’s taxing for the everyday.

And here it is, unmistakeable, before Buck even knew. Eddie, so good at the suppression and the repression in that era, unable to escape the honesty of his hunger with just one look.

Buck swallows and adjusts himself in his pants.

The second picture is—oh. It’s of him and Eddie dancing during the Grease song, when Eddie had held him close and dipped Buck like he’d been doing it all his life. It’s—oh. He can’t believe Eddie’s not shown him this one before, because—there’s so much love contained inside this photograph, he can feel it seeping out of the phone and into his hands, liquid sunshine.

Buck’s head is thrown back, face scrunched in delighted laughter, and Eddie’s so close, beaming at him with nothing short of adoration. It’s pouring out of him, clear as day, the happiness in this single photo a tangible thing even over a year later.

Buck kind of wants to urge the him in the picture to open his eyes, see the way Eddie’s looking at him. But then again, the way Eddie looked at him didn’t really change, before and after. So maybe he wouldn’t have clocked it as anything other than Eddie’s everyday love, so far from the romance column in his own tangled-up brain at the time it wouldn’t have mattered.

He wanders back to the kitchen, swiping back to the first photo. Heat licks its way up his spine, uncaring of the fact that they have dinner guests and no time for this. He slouches in the kitchen doorway, watching Eddie chop cilantro carefully.

“What?” Eddie frowns. “I’m in a crisis, Buck, don’t look at me like that, it’s not helpful.”

Buck clears his throat. “Like what?”

“Like you’re eyefucking me so hard I might undergo immaculate conception.”

Buck can’t focus on the nearly painfully arousing implications of that, but never let it be said his horniness surpasses—rightful—indignation. “Me?” he asks incredulously. “Eyefucking you? That’s fucking rich, considering the contents of these.” He waves Eddie’s phone at him for emphasis.

“What’s that,” Eddie asks impatiently. “Where’s my recipe?”

“Oh,” Buck says. “I didn’t actually get that far.”

Eddie makes a noise of irritation, washing his hands and reaching out for his phone. “What the hell have you been—oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Buck says. “How come you’ve never shown me these before?”

Eddie flushes, even more than the heat of the kitchen can take credit for. “I dunno. I guess I just look so… I dunno.”

“So in love with me?” Buck asks, mouth quirking up on one side. He steps forward, wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist.

Eddie sighs, listing forward in Buck’s grasp. “I mean—yeah. I guess I was just thrown by how obvious the, I don’t know, enormity of my—the way I felt about you was. And by the time I was okay with it—the enormity and the obviousness—I kinda forgot about these.”

Buck turns his head, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s hairline. Eddie lifts his face, searching for Buck’s mouth with his own, and Buck happily obliges, kissing him gently.

“Well, I’m sending these to myself,” Buck informs him, “and then we’re getting the second one framed and hung up in our room.”

“Is that the less horny one?” Eddie asks.

“They’re both plenty horny,” Buck says, “but yeah. Marginally less.”

“Fine,” Eddie allows. “But it will be subject to temporary removal if and when my parents come stay.”

“Deal,” Buck agrees, and then leans back in to kiss Eddie again.

He uses his grip on Eddie’s waist to steer them back, caging Eddie against the counter and lining his body flush along the length of Eddie’s, thigh to hip to chest. Eddie sighs contentedly, hand sneaking under the back of Buck’s shirt to splay across his bare skin. His jeans have a delicious heavy-weight friction to them, and Buck tries to angle himself so he can rock against Eddie lazily. He opens his own mouth under Eddie’s, trying valiantly to deepen the kiss, have Eddie lick into him hot and sweet, but Eddie pulls back.

“The curry,” he says mournfully. “Bobby and Athena.”

Buck groans, taking the edge off it by leaning in to kiss the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “You are so overthinking this Bobby thing. I’m not a woman in the early 1900s. Bobby’s technically not even my—”

“He is, though,” Eddie interrupts. “As far as it matters.”

“Okay,” Buck agrees, because that’s true. “But why are you so hung up on being old-school traditional here?”

Eddie huffs. “Sometimes tradition is good. It’s not like I’d have been asking permission to marry you, just. Wanting to have his—I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, I’m not some blushing bride.” Buck kisses the other corner of Eddie’s mouth, making it quirk up into a smile.

“Debatable,” he murmurs, and Buck pinches him at his waist. He squirms, grinning.

“We’re getting married,” Buck tells him, and Eddie lights up so incandescently Buck thinks even the Halloween photograph doesn’t know such happiness. “Bobby’s really happy for us. A curry’s not gonna change any of that.”

“I know,” Eddie says, sighs. “This is just the first time since—I just really wanted to show him I can be good for you, too.”

Buck gapes at him. “Are you—Eddie. Are you serious?”

Eddie shrugs one shoulder, looking embarrassed. Buck takes a step back so he can grab both Eddie’s hands in his own.

“I’m not even gonna—mention the bucket list,” he says, “but Eddie. Eddie. Why do you think Bobby made us partners in the first place?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, but it’s a real one. “I know, okay, but this just—we’re getting married, Buck.”

“And watch him take credit for it in his wedding speech,” Buck says.

Eddie smiles at him, but the underlying current of nerves is still thrumming, visible to Buck a step away.

“Okay,” he says, one final kiss to the centre of Eddie’s mouth. Eddie chases it when he pulls away, but he stands firm. “Let’s save this curry and the sanctity of our marriage to-be. Tomorrow, though, tomorrow, you’re putting on the greaser jeans and fucking me into the mattress.”

Eddie snorts, cheeks pink again. “Sounds like a plan.” He opens his phone, searching for the original recipe.

The ingredients are read aloud, and when Buck swings shut the fridge door as he confirms them, the faded yellow list pinned with a star-shaped magnet looks back at him, ready to have scribbled-out number 5 ticked off completely, wholly, permanently. Buck’s already there with start a family, but get married? He doesn’t think he could’ve imagined it being as good as this.

And if this piece of paper accompanies them to the courthouse, actual marriage certificate second in importance, that’s for him and Eddie to know, because the list doesn’t end, but God, does it feel good to live through it.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

Okay I saw more of your art and had to come back (if it’s okay)

Maybe this time….King Marty? Like in a kings outfit with the septor

and crown and stuff? Idk

no problem at all! i'm just happy you enjoy :D

anyone with any remote knowledge of historical dress from any vague period or region please avert your eyes.

[aarontaylorjohnsonsdivorcelawyer]

library card ➵ valgrace university au

valgrace university au - PART 5 [masterlist]

[magenta-somethings]

thinking of kon & mary shelley’s frankenstein. specifically thinking of this paragraph of frankenstein:

"His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they were set" --  Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus (1818)

& the reign of supermen movie, which gave kon very pale — almost inhumanly pale — eyes. thinking of how in the movie it’s bc it was lex’s eye colour & his eyes are just like that, apparently, but how it could have easily also been a quirk of the cloning process. thinking of how in his first origin, he wasn’t even a true clone of superman, but instead human genetic material twisted & reshaped to imitate superman — to (re)create the perfect man. thinking of a superboy made to be beautiful — well, made to be superman but, i mean, have you seen the guy? so same thing — and he is beautiful but there’s also something… off. something about all the different parts that don’t quite come together. thinking of a superboy with inhumanly pale eyes, who learns not to take his sunglasses off because if he does suddenly everyone starts acting weird. thinking of a superboy who eventually gets his hands on some contact lenses and finally has superman's sky blue eyes. thinking of a superboy with something that marks him as not human — worse, not real — and who doesn't understand what it is or why for ages, and when he does learn does anything to hide it. thinking of a superboy with a horrid contrast.

[lokimobius]

🧡 Lokius (obviously lol)

Todays offering includes: soft, domestic Lokius living on the timeline together, kissing, and a little bit of teasing.

Also uploaded to AO3 if anyone prefers reading that way!

🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling

“Did you remember to lock the back door?” Mobius asked.

Loki pops his head around the door of their en suite with his toothbrush in his mouth. “Of course I did,” he said through the foam of toothpaste. He flashed a smile at Mobius and returned to the sink.

Mobius waited. Any second now...

The sound of Loki brushing his teeth slowed, then stopped altogether. Mobius laughed quietly to himself as he heard Loki turn off the water. He knew it wouldn’t take long for him to second-guess himself.

Ever since Loki forgot to lock the door last summer, they went through this at least once a month. Mobius would always ask, and Loki would always assure him that he did, in fact, lock the back door, and then he’d have to go check himself, not believing anything he just said. It was like clockwork.

After rinsing his mouth, Loki reappeared at the doorway and gave Mobius a sheepish look. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to double-check,” he said, ducking out into the hallway and down the stairs before Mobius had a chance to say anything.

Mobius smiled fondly at the space where Loki had stood, took his glasses off, and shut the book he was reading. He folded them neatly into his glasses case and placed them both on his bedside table.

The sound of Loki testing the door handle could be heard clearly in the quiet of the night as Mobius adjusted the pillow behind his head and snuggled further into the bed.

“It’s locked!” Loki called as he made his way back up the stairs, “You should have more faith in me, Mobius.” He leant against the doorframe and smirked.

“I have plenty of faith in you, honey.” He said, pulling back the covers and patting the mattress next to him. “Now are you coming to bed, or what?”

Loki kicked off his slippers and climbed into the bed, pulling the covers tight over both of them as he fell into Mobius’ arms.

Mobius pulled Loki close so that he was lying snugly on top of his body. Loki’s weight on him was comforting; it reminded him that he was real. Before Yggdrasil became self-sustaining, Loki had spent a lot of time going back and forth between the TVA and the End of Time. Most of which he spent casting an illusion of himself to Mobius so that he wouldn’t have to be alone again.

That period of their relationship was hard on them both. They had come to seek comfort in each other’s touch long before they deepened their relationship. Loki’s hand would ghost across Mobius', unable to touch him from where he sat alone, and Mobius’ hand would fall through Loki’s shoulder or waist when he forgot that Loki wasn’t really there.

But now they could touch whenever they wanted. Loki was real, and he had been for quite a while.

Loki looked down at Mobius from his position on top of him. His hair was longer now, and a few strands fell gracefully across his face, blocking Mobius’ view of his beautiful eyes. He reached out to touch the soft hair, stroking it off his face and tucking it behind his ear. He kept his hand gently against Loki’s cheek, revelling in the warmth of his face against his palm.

“Hey there, beautiful.” He whispered, bumping his nose against Loki’s playfully.

Loki smiled softly and nuzzled his face into Mobius’, placing a feather-light kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Hey, yourself.”

“Good job with those weeds today,” he said, moving his hand to stroke through the hair at Loki’s ear. “I can't handle all that kneeling anymore.”

Loki smirked. “It didn’t seem that way when you–”

“Don’t start.”

“But you–”

“Shut up and come here,” Mobius said, pulling Loki’s face to his and sealing his lips with a slow kiss.

Loki hummed and shifted to try and straddle Mobius, but Mobius gripped his waist tighter, keeping their bodies close together.

Mobius broke their kiss as Loki whined in protest. “Slow down, sweetheart,” he soothed. “I’m tired and just want you close for now.”

Loki nodded and cupped Mobius’ face in his hands. He stared into Loki’s eyes; they were still bright despite the low light in their bedroom. Loki’s lips curled in a delicate smile, and his eyes crinkled at the edges, glistening and full to the brim with adoration, and he knew the same loving look was reflected on his own face. After all this time, he still couldn’t get over the way Loki looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky.

They both moved at the same time, closing the gap between them with a deep kiss.

They're experts at this now. They knew how to fit together perfectly and how to tease just enough to keep the kiss deep but not heated. Even in Mobius’ sleepy state, he was still alert to every move and breath that Loki took.

Mobius trailed his hands down Loki’s back as he kissed him, his fingertips dancing over all the places that made Loki shiver. Loki was an impulsive and thoughtful lover, one who always wanted to put Mobius first, always trying to push him to the edge in new and exciting ways. While Mobius was slow and steady, taking the time to understand what it was exactly that Loki needed and supporting him through the highs.

Loki opened his mouth slightly to let out a soft sigh, and his body relaxed further into Mobius’. It was the perfect opportunity for Mobius to deepen the kiss, so he licked into Loki’s mouth tenderly, drawing heavier sighs from Loki. He knew he shouldn’t tease him too much, but it was easy to wind him up, and it thrilled him to know that he was so sensitive to his touch.

When Loki’s chest began to heave against his, Mobius knew he had to calm him down before it became too much for him to handle.

“Loki,” he said between kisses.

“Yes, darling?” Loki replied after pulling himself away. He stared at Mobius’ lips, only half paying attention.

“Time to sleep, Loki.” He gave Loki a small nudge, and he begrudgingly moved himself off Mobius' body and flopped on the pillow beside him.

“You tease,” Loki huffed, his dark curls sprawled against the white pillowcase. “I’m never kissing you again.” He crossed his arms over his chest and turned his head away from Mobius.

“So, you don’t want a goodnight kiss then?” Mobius smirked.

He waited. Any second now... and...

Loki turned over to face Mobius abruptly, a scowl plastered to his face.

“You’re insufferable you know that, right?” Loki said, giving him a short yet aggressive kiss.

“I learnt from the best, sweetheart.”

Mobius winked and pulled him into his arms again.

[nalyra-dreaming]

"Did that happen?"

"Not everything Louis says is a lie!"

I had forgotten about this part.

Unfortunately I could only find this quality of the video, but it's a very interesting one indeed. It is also one of the first interviews they did, and even there they made it clear that not all would be ... the truth.

Or the whole truth, at least.

[spirk-trek]

Contact Fanzine #6 | Merle Decker, 1979 This was also the cover art for Home is the Hunter by Bev Volker, which can be read here in PDF format (beginning p. 214)

[child-of-peace]

I’m rewatching Headless and I just realised there’s an extra layer of cruelty in Kat’s plan to sacrifice Ichabod: the fact that he’s the only one stopping the poor students of Sleepy Hollow Middle School from being taught science by Brom.