#and that's led me to a hypothesis of

[decepti-geek]

OH MY GOD, your tags on the childhood fave vs. current fave post. :D I can't stop thinking about Aziraphale being unwilling to unleash his celestial powers on this poor creature - and then Piglet just hitting a level of panic where he goes AAAAAAAA and hits poor Aziraphale with the nearest chair and discorporates him.

Oh man, this is even better than I was visualising when I wrote the tags.

(The tags in question:)

I think the thing I keep dwelling on is like - does Piglet know that he's in combat with an ethereal otherworldly being? Or is Aziraphale as far as he's concerned Just Some Guy? Like, I'm fascinated pondering whether Piglet's anxiety is capable of giving him a shot of adrenaline with enough juice in it to convince him that there's anything to be gained in taking a swing at an angel.

[mysteriouslysteadyperfection]

don't know how to maintain and have your diapers on always? mommy is here to guide you through

[amatres]

you know i kinda realize that by how my timeline is set up, it could 100% be possible that Jowan was the grey warden commander for awakening and even witch hunt. lol. lmao even

[cyber-punk-rock]

last night was a BTS night, this morning it's Harry Styles

[headspace-hotel]

There was this post a while ago where somebody was saying that Cheetahs aren't well suited to Africa and would do well in Midwestern North America, and it reminded me of Paul S. Martin, the guy I'm always pissed off about.

He had some good ideas, but he is most importantly responsible for the overkill hypothesis (idea that humans caused the end-Pleistocene extinctions and that climate was minimally a factor) which led to the idea of Pleistocene rewilding.

...Basically this guy thought we should introduce lions, cheetahs, camels, and other animals to North America to "rewild" the landscape to what it was like pre-human habitation, and was a major advocate for re-creating mammoths.

Why am I pissed off about him? Well he denied that there were humans in North America prior to the Clovis culture, which it's pretty well established now that there were pre-Clovis inhabitants, and in general promoted the idea that the earliest inhabitants of North America exterminated the ecosystem through destructive and greedy practices...

...which has become "common knowledge" and used as evidence for anyone who wants to argue that Native Americans are "Not So Innocent, Actually" and the mass slaughter and ecosystem devastation caused by colonialism was just what humans naturally do when encountering a new environment, instead of a genocidal campaign to destroy pre-existing ways of life and brutally exploit the resources of the land.

It basically gives the impression that the exploitative and destructive relationship to land is "human nature" and normal, which erases every culture that defies this characterization, and also erases the way indigenous people are important to ecosystems, and promotes the idea of "empty" human-less ecosystems as the natural "wild" state.

And also Martin viewed the Americas' fauna as essentially impoverished, broken and incomplete, compared with Africa which has much more species of large mammals, which is glossing over the uniqueness of North American ecosystems and the uniqueness of each species, such as how important keystone species like bison and wolves are.

It's also ignoring the taxa and biomes that ARE extraordinarily diverse in North America, for example the Appalachian Mountains are one of the most biodiverse temperate forests on Earth, the Southeastern United States has the Earth's most biodiverse freshwater ecosystems, and both of these areas are also a major global hotspot for amphibian biodiversity and lichen biodiversity. Large mammals aren't automatically the most important. With South America, well...the Amazon Rainforest, the Brazilian Cerrado and the Pantanal wetlands are basically THE biodiversity hotspot of EVERYTHING excepting large mammals.

It's not HIM I have a problem with per se. It's the way his ideas have become so widely distributed in pop culture and given people a muddled and warped idea of ecology.

If people think North America was essentially a broken ecosystem missing tons of key animals 500 years ago, they won't recognize how harmful colonization was to the ecosystem or the importance of fixing the harm. Who cares if bison are a keystone species, North America won't be "fixed" until we bring back camels and cheetahs...right?

And by the way, there never were "cheetahs" in North America, Miracinonyx was a different genus and was more similar to cougars than cheetahs, and didn't have the hunting strategy of cheetahs, so putting African cheetahs in North America wouldn't "rewild" anything.

Also people think its a good idea to bring back mammoths, which is...no. First of all, it wouldn't be "bringing back mammoths," it would be genetically engineering extant elephants to express some mammoth genes that code for key traits, and second of all, the ecosystem that contained them doesn't exist anymore, and ultimately it would be really cruel to do this with an intelligent, social animal. The technology that would be used for this is much better used to "bring back" genetic diversity that has been lost from extant critically endangered species.

I think mustangs should get to stay in North America, they're already here and they are very culturally important to indigenous groups. And I think it's pretty rad that Scimitar-horned Oryx were brought back in their native habitat only because there was a population of them in Texas. But we desperately, DESPERATELY need to re-wild bison, wolves, elk, and cougars across most of their former range before we can think about introducing camels.

[avelera]

thesis about the sea peoples you say? may i request an infodump about the sea peoples?

Heya!

So, basically in college (undergraduate) I got really obsessed with the questions around the Collapse of the Aegean Bronze Age, mostly because I wanted to set my big Magnum Opus historical fiction novel in that time, and the deeper I dug into the rabbit hole the more it appeared that no one, absolutely no one, actually knows why the civilizations around the Mediterranean all fell from a state of pretty sophisticated internationally-trading civilizations to literal Dark Ages (all except for Egypt which was substantially weakened and never really recovered), all at once around 1200-1100 BCE.

The Sea Peoples are the names of the only contemporary (Egyptian) account we have that names who might have been responsible if this collapse was due to an invasion. It's a popular theory because a viking-style invasion is a much sexier reason for a civilization to collapse so we all gather around it like moths to flame. But the thing is, there's a lot of contradictory evidence for and against and shading that hypothesis.

Suffice to say, literally no actually knows what happened and almost every answer comes up, "Some combination of these things, probably?"

But what makes the Collapse even more interesting from a modern perspective is that if there was a historical Trojan War (and I think there was) as fictionalized in the Iliad and the Odyssey (and Song of Achilles, for the Tumbrlistas), then it would have taken place within a generation of the entire civilization that launched the Trojan War crumbling to dust.

So like, if you're Telemachus, your dad Odysseus fights in the Trojan War, some even manage to get home, and then like... everything goes to shit. Catastrophically. And doesn't recover for 400 years.

Seriously, they lost the written word, like how to actually write things down and read them and it took 400 years to get it back. That's how fucked shit got during the Collapse of the Bronze Age.

So my thesis was asking: what if these two things were related? What if the Trojan War either led to the Collapse or it was part of the Collapse or it was a result of the Collapse? Because the timeline is so unknown and muddled that it really could be any of those and again, that's if the Trojan War isn't entirely fictional (which I don't think it is, but many academics disagree, it used to be a whole thing up until Schliemann dug it up, and many doubted it was ever a historical event even after that.)

Ok, so at the risk of writing 75 pages on this again, let me just say:

My conclusion (more of a hypothesis proposal ultimately since there are so many gaps in our knowledge) was that the Trojan War took place before the Collapse of the Bronze Age. But, it might have been launched in response to a wider breakdown in trades routes and resources, causing the Greeks to launch the campaign basically as a bid to replenish their own coffers because they were getting squeezed by what they didn't know was the first rumblings of a global domino effect.

Therefore, since taking out Troy didn't solve those larger trends and forces, they all went home and then got slammed by the REAL problem, which was all the people who had been displaced from further away by this rolling drought or invasion or whatever that was disrupting these delicate international trade routes.

But the Greeks might have been part of the Sea Peoples too! Our only record of the Sea Peoples is from the Egyptians in a highly propagandistic text which makes them sound like this big fearsome foe but that might have been because saying, "We slaughtered a bunch of desperate refugees at our border who were looking for shelter," didn't sound as cool. If the Greeks (or Achaeans or Ahhiyawa) got swept up in this slow-rolling collapse/displacement of people, then they absolutely could have been among those refugees who crashed against the shores of Egypt.

A lot of my evidence was based on looking at how Troy was sacked (it was stripped literally down the nails and there was a lot of evidence of a long-term siege, like what we read about in the Iliad) vs. how Mycenae (Agamemnon's city) or Pylos (King Nestor's city) was sacked, where they were burned and stuff was stolen but they weren't stripped, it looks more like a standard looting hit-and-run type thing. Which led me to believe that it was different turmoil that rocked Mycenae and Pylos than what led to the sacking of Troy, despite the fact these things happened within about 20 years of each other. (Helen being a made-up reason for a resource-driven war would only be the oldest trick in the book, as far as propaganda goes, after all.)

But really, the craziest detail I'll leave you with is: we just don't know! And then it gets weirder. Because the Hittites fell at the same time so the Hittites scholars say, "Nah, the Sea Peoples weren't Hittites, they were probably Greeks." And the GREEK scholars say, "It wasn't us, it was probably the Hittites or someone else. " and the EGYPTIAN scholars say, "Yeah it was someone north of Egypt, maybe the Hittites or the Greeks." and the LEVANT scholars say, "It wasn't from the Levant, we know what was going on there, it has to be from somewhere else."

Literally every single possible source of the Sea Peoples has the scholars who specialize in that location saying it's not them and it must be the guy next door.

It's maddening!

And then there's a big ol' gap around Bulgaria and the Black Sea because, oh yeah, the Soviet Union forbade archaeology in those areas to quash any local pride so those places that were behind the Iron Curtain are decades behind on scholarship that would allow them to say, "Oh hey, it was actually us! Yeah, the invaders came from Bulgaria and got pushed down by a famine." or something to that effect.

We also have some histories from the time saying that the Sons of Heracles returned not long after the Trojan War to lay Greece to waste! And it's really evocative and sounds like it fits what we've got of all these burned cities that happened right after Troy fell! Except that's in doubt now too!

The latest theory is that it was climate change that led to a massive drought. You can read about it in the latest and most popular book on the subject, 1177 BCE which I highly recommend because if it had existed when I wrote my thesis, I wouldn't have had to write it.

But I disagree with the conclusion! Or rather, I'm skeptical. Because very decade, the problems of the day have been hypothesized as being the cause of the Collapse. Like, in the 60s, there was a theory that maybe it was internal strife around a labor strike, like the French Revolution. And y'know when there's a world war, they think it's an invasion. And there was a theory that it was 'cuz of an earthquake (I think that one is nonsense, Mediterranean civilizations famously bounce back quickly from earthquakes.) And now that climate change is on our mind, I'm a little weary to see that it's the new theory because it feels way too much like we're just projecting our problems onto this giant question mark.

Was climate an aspect! I think so! I think it might have contributed to the break down in trade routes that made everyone in the Mediterranean really stressed out and hostile and warlike and led to a lot of displacement. I'm not sure if it's the only reason though and I think the book just kinda reiterates everyone else saying, "I think it was this but in the end, we just don't know, and it was probably a lot of things." which we've known for ages so it's just repeating all the same conclusions. *sigh*

... Like I said, I wrote my thesis on this so yeah, I could go on for a while lol.

[alexanderwales]

I look at Steam's "New and Trending" tab pretty much once a day, just to see whether something is there that catches my interest, and every now and then there's a horny game of some kind, usually something cooked up in RPGMaker with a collection of 18+ unlockable pictures if you do things right. I haven't ever actually played any of these, but I see them, and assume they have a following, and their own tropes and subgenres and whatever. It's probably lucrative.

What I don't understand is why the women in these screenshots always have such big tits.

It reminds me of those fucked up dog breeds with the weird snout and awkward body, like someone lost the plot at some point, like Goodhart's Law but for boobs. I am forced to the conclusion that a sizeable number of consumers like this style, where a petite woman has watermelon-sized tits sticking out of her chest, but I don't at all understand it. Other people have different preferences, sure, that's not news to me, but how does this disconnect happen where the golden ratio is getting thrown out the window? How do people look at these anime women who are 20% boob by volume and not think that something has gotten lost somewhere?

I think it would befuddle me less if it was less common, a niche fetish, but it's so omnipresent that I feel like my own preferences (for anatomically possible/likely tits) are somehow the anomaly.

(Since I don't play these games, it's also possible that this is at least partly a marketing/signaling thing, letting you know from the character designs alone that people are going to be having sex in this game. But it also seems to me like character designs are one of the things that sells the game, so then I'm led to believe that this is actually what the market wants, if the efficient market hypothesis is correct.)

[katerinaaqu]

Why did Helen choose to torment the Greek Warriors inside the Trojan Horse? (An Odyssey Analysis)

Okay so here is a conundrum that seems to be quite interesting in homeric poems. One of them seems to be Helen's behavior before the sacking of Troy. Menelaus informs us and Telemachus on the events of the night before taking Troy and speaks on the moment where Helen knocks on the Trojan Horse and calls upon the Greek warriors inside imitating the voices of their wives.

Three times you circled the hollow ambush and out of the best of the Danaans you called the names and all the Argives heard the voices of their spouses. Nevertheless I and the son of Tydeus and the godly Odysseus heard you as you called out and while we two were eager to rush out and act to our sudden urge, Odysseus though held us back and restrained us despite our eagerness. Then all the other sons of Achaeans endured apart from Anticlus wanted to respond to your call but Odysseus placed his hand upon his mouth non-stop and strongly and thus saving all the Achaeans until Athena Pallas led you away

(Translation by me)

So basically here we see a very cruel act right? Helen knows the Argives were away from home and their wives way too long, over a decade so why would she play such a cruel game to them and call upon them by using the voices of their wives? It seems unnecessarily cruel at some point especially since she did express the need to go back to her husband already a year prior during the events of Iliad.

So here are a couple of explanations for it.

So for many I would epxect this would be something one might consider inconsistency at writing which leads many people to turn to the "different writer" trope. Quite honestly I can see why and as a hypothesis is really valid or maybe if one takes the hypothesis that Odyssey was witten way after the Iliad that the author himself changed his mind on some stuff or reconsidered his sources etc.

However let's hypothesize for one second that this is a logical continuation of the story and character development (yeah I am not convinced on the different writer theory, fight me! XD) and let's just think for a second the context of the scene based on what we know from the Iliad and the Epic Cycle in general.

We know that Helen lived in Troy a decade (yes for the "20 years theory" I have answered an ask here). She knew these people for a long time. We also know from the Iliad as she stood next to Priam, giving him information about the Greek leaders and kings and we know that she was not judged by him or any other of the Trojans. If anything she was blaming herself quite a lot for it. Even in the funeral of Hector she expresses her love for him (not romantic love guys) and her respect for him. She had no real hate for the Trojans even if she already had a change of heart or Aphrodite's spell on her had weakened. For the reasons why she stayed I also answered another ask right here but apart from that reason we know she wanted to go home so why did she do that to the Greeks? Well in the same scene Menelaus seems to be excusing his wife and he presents this very interesting explanation as to why she did it:

And then you came there: called by some god, no doubt, who wished to extend the glory of the Trojans

(Translation by me)

Menelaus seems to be excusing his wife once more and presents the hypothesis that Helen was inspired by some god or goddess (δαίμων) to go and disturb the Greeks inside the horse. Helen doesn't deny it but doesn;t confirm it either. In fact Telemachus speaks soon after and Helen orders the slaves to prepare stuff. The conversation on this subject seems to end there. So the one explanation could be that indeed Menelaus is correct and that Helen was once more either coersed or blackmailed by a god, potentially Aphrodite again, even if not mentioned, and went to the Greeks and tried to lure them out for the sakes of that god that wished better for Troy. It stands as an explanation as well.

However let's make things more spicy and let's assume that Helen was not influenced by divine intervention by the gods and instead it was her own free will to do what she did. If yes then why? So here's a hypothesis. Before in her narration Helen talks about how she met Odysseus and recognized him in his disguise. She also mentions how Odysseus informs her on the plan to take Troy:

And then he entrusted me everything he had in mind for the Achaeans

(translation by me)

How much he told her is not clear. Did he already have in mind to make the horse so he tells her that? Maybe he warns her on the one day that the Achaeans shall enter the city without speaking on precice details? Either way Helen would know Odysseus was up for some ploy and she knew she had to act fast. Menelaus also mentions how Deiphobos was with her at that time (how Menelaus knew? Well probably Helen told him). So immediately if Helen had a reason to do what she did, we have two reasons;

She wanted to persuade Deiphobos on her loyalty to Troy. Arguably when Odysseus escaped, as Helen said, he killed many Trojans on his way out. Most likely her loyalty must have been questioned at that tensed time thus being accompanied by her new husband all the time. By doing this, ellegedly tormenting the Greeks, was showing to Deiphobos her loyalty to Troy (manipulating him into believing that she was on their side) plus showing him like "See? Nothing here. No danger whatsoever". She probably knew already Odysseus would be inside and he wouldn't fall for her trick and she trusted him and her husband to hold the rest of the Achaeans inside the horse so they wouldn't cry out. So not only did she show to Deiphobos that she was on Trojan side but also manipulated him into believing indeed there was no danger.

Two, this part is the best, in my opinion, she was signaling to the GREEKS inside the horse. She called them all by name by immitating their wives. More or less tells to them that she KNOWS and that she knows EXACTLY who they are and who their families are, and that she could have betrayed them at any moment if she wanted to but she chose not to because she was on their side. Like that she would have more hopes not to be killed by vengeful Greeks during the siege of Troy or her daughter by Paris, Helen, and ensure her and her daughter's safety. Also signaling her change of heart in person to them.

Conclusions:

Like I said before I do not believe Odyssey was written by a different author altogether and Odyssey itself gives us some very good explanations on Helen's behavior. I am actually willing to side with my second hypothesis. Perhaps Menelaus was talking literally when mentioning a god but I tend to believe he was more like metaphorical. In an essence "what's gotten into you?" manner. However I tend to believe that regardless of whether there was or wasn't a godly intervention in Helen's behavior, Helen is extremely intelligent and she knows that after the fuss Odysseus caused (literally a Greek spy in Troy, possibly two if we count Diomedes too) that got in, stole the Palladium of Athena and killed people on their way out might as well throw suspicion on her and she needed to make sure she would continue have the love of Priam, which was literally her shield of protection at that moment. Two she knew that her husband was coming for her and that he was potentially furious and if it wasn't him, some other of the Greeks would be or they would get battle-drunk with their success. She wasn't going to rely only on Odysseus's silver tongue that he persuaded the Greeks on her change of heart but she wanted to make sure that they knew on her talents and power and the way that she could literally give them away at any moment and that she chooses not to because she is Greek like them and because she had a change of heart!

I hope you find this analysis interesting! Let me know in the comments below! I'd love to hear your thoughts! ^_^

[fanaticsnail]

Bachata (Dance Series)

Masterlist here.

Word Count: 3,105

Warnings: Fluff. Pure fluff, dancing, sensual dance descriptors, mention of alcohol (if you squint).

It was beta-read by the ever wonderful @sordidmusings (thank you bby grl, you are a blessing)

Song Suggestion: Stand By Me, Wake Me Up, la Isla Bonita

Your lips remained parted, eyes glossy and hyper-fixated on the movement of swaying hips, bent knees, and the biceps and forearms of your captain who effortlessly led one of the locals in a sultry dance. All his movements were in time to the beat of the drum, the fingerpicking of nylon guitar strings and the push and pull of airy piano accordion accompanying the lilt of vocals.

The atmosphere surrounding the beach-front festival on the coastal shore was loud, the crash of waves in the distance resonated within the chasms of the wooden dock where the Going Merry was harbored. Several vendors had set up temporary huts with canvas roofs atop wooden poles, selling their wares, local cuisine and fountains of exotic drinks of flavors you had never heard of before.

Although the musicians sang out their romantic souls into the air, prompting many a traveler to engage with them in dance and singing along to the tune: your eyes remained fixed on the way Luffy effortlessly spun the local girl within his arms, steadying her hips with his hands. His nose was scrunched with laughter, his grin drawn wide against his cheeks to bare his teeth in unbridled joy.

“Quartermaster?” the green-haired swordsman addressed you, “your thoughts?”

“Hmm?” you hummed in question, snapped from your entranced gaze held against your captain’s swaying body.

“You’ve been staring at him long enough,” Nami giggled at you, leaning back to recline against the wooden log behind her, “surely you have a bit of a hypothesis.”

You furrowed your brow, looking between the remaining companions you’d found yourself serving with on the Going Merry. Nami had a playful shimmer falling in her eyes, Zoro quenched his thirst by draining the remainder of his brown-stained beer bottle, while Sanji was making his way back from collecting the evening meal for the crew by bartering with the vendors.

Usopp and Luffy opted to join in the festival celebrations by swaying with the locals to the beat of the drum. Both men began surprising the crew with how effortlessly they danced to the tunes produced by the band, but Luffy was exceptionally surprising everyone by the way he almost had an air of sultry seduction in his movements. As soon as you witnessed the first effortless and tasteful gyration of his hips, your breath caught in your throat and a warm flush weaseled its way from your chest to tint your cheeks with its presence.

“On the dancing?” you asked again, Zoro chuckling at your thoughts.

“Alright, let’s backtrack then,” the swordsman rolled his eyes with a chuckled scoff, “look at him.”

“Oh she’s been looking at him enough, Zoro,” Nami scrunched up her nose, her tone light and teasing. You scrunched up your own nose in light mockery at her jest, prompting her to release a laugh into the night air.

“Looking at who?” the blonde chef asked as he placed the food down on the stretched canvas mat on the sandy floor in front of you all.

“Alright Sanji, non-biased opinion,” Nami said, leaning forward to sit herself closer to the food in front of her, “our captain. Where do you think he learnt how to dance like that? Look – no, really Sanji – look.”

The chef rolled his eyes and lulled his head over to look at the captain of the Going Merry. Luffy spun his dance partner to face her torso away from him, her back pressed flush against his bare chest as he ghosted his fingertips over her vertical forearms held upwards. His lips traced the back of her neck, his eyes fluttered closed as he swayed his hips against the beat, with his brows furrowed in passionate concentration.

“O-oh,” Sanji stuttered, his eyes widening with a downturned smile rising within his fluster.

“I know, right?” Nami loudly whispered in her hushed enthusiasm.

“I can honestly say: I have no idea,” the blonde nodded his head in confirming his words more-so to himself than to the group, “he doesn’t give off that kind of energy at all.”

The music concluded, the captain breaking away from his dance partner, and giving her a clap on the shoulder as a gesture of encouragement and joy at the time they spent together.

“Oi, Luffy, Usopp!” Zoro called to the two crewmen, “grub’s up, come and get it!”

Your captain’s face snapped over towards the crew; his eyes first meeting with yours. A large grin drew itself against his cheeks once more as he found Usopp and they stampeded together towards the canvas mat.

“You guys, the sand- the sand,” Nami aggressively shooed the two rapidly approaching men, their feet kicking up the coarse grains of sand dangerously close to the food placed on the floor. You giggled at them, looking to your captain and patting the unoccupied space beside you in a gesture for him to sit down.

Usopp claimed the vacant space next to Nami, taking a portion of the local cuisine for himself as he did so. Luffy, smiling at your gesture, immediately plopped himself down ungracefully. He playfully nudged your shoulder with the top of his head, giving you a small smile, his curls feeling soft against your exposed skin as his hat remained fastened to his back via the drawstring. You laughed, reaching your palm and fingertips to brush some of the strands away from his forehead to reveal his hazelnut-coloured eyes to you. You shook your head, scrunching your nose and playfully nudged him away from you.

Your role aboard the Going Merry was the Quartermaster: an aid in the navigation and smooth sailing amongst the waves, while being the secondary loyal soldier behind the first-mate. Luffy, upon finding you in a tavern off the shore of Shells-Town, immediately was taken with your skills and ease in breaking up a tavern brawl. Two rival pirate crews had stumbled into the family-run tavern and began immediately meddling in the affairs of one another’s business. The boiling point flashing like water to scorching oil within the halls of your favorite tavern: foreheads touching, guns withdrawn, fists flying and the breaking of brown, glass bottles. You threw yourself into the crowd, opting to disarm and do no harm, dancing effortlessly within the heat of the battle and incapacitating those who opted to remain fighting. It took little to no time to stop the fight, your skills drilled into you at the hands of many a brawling instructor and mentor throughout your childhood.

After the fight had finished, a brown-haired captain adorning a straw hat with a red ribbon approached you, telling you straight out, “Pack your bags, I need you on my ship,” to which you shrugged with a simple “aye, Sir”.

In your travels with the young captain, you were immediately taken with his innocence and fearlessness to be anything other than what he is: a simple man with the charm and charisma he needs to lead a crew, but also with the mischievousness and playfulness that comes with his inexperience. His heart is intensely displayed on his wrists, his desire to serve and protect those in need was admirable. You would follow him to the ends of the earth, with nothing to add than a simple: “aye, Sir.”

Friendship, proximity, and sleepless nights by each other’s side had a small whisper of emotion beginning to form within the very central point of your heart. The longer you remained with him, the more this feeling began to burn within you. You put it all down to the need to serve your captain well or perhaps a small crush if anything else. Choosing not to engage with such childish emotions, you smothered the feelings as soon as they began.

But there was something about the way his hips were swaying tonight. Something about the way his eyes sparkled, his nose scrunched and his lips drew out to reveal his playful grin under the glittering stars around the festivities that held you hostage to your unquenchable emotions.

“Nice meat!” Luffy’s voice cut through your inner monologue, prompting you to shake your head and blink slowly away your enchantment, “you had any yet-? -You haven’t had any yet! Here, have some!”

Your captain thrust an empty paper plate into your hands before piling a mountain of food atop the plate; it bending beneath the weight of the variety of items.

“Captain, slow down!” you giggled, shooing his hand holding tongs with the dangle of cooked meat waving from the end, “I’m not going to be able to get through all this, but thank you for thinking of me.”

“Anything for my Quartermaster,” he shot you a small wink, “gotta make sure you’re taken care of, you know?”

Your eyes fluttered rapidly in a flustered blink. You shook your head once more and furrowed your brows at his comments. He looked down at your plate, gesturing with his hands for you to begin eating.

“Whatever you don’t eat, I will,” he shrugged, leaning back in his place beside you and looking up at you with eyes full of adoration and appreciation.

“Thanks Luffy, I trust that you will,” you giggled, placing the plate down on the ground and tucking your hair behind your ears and away from your mouth. He smiled up with his broadening grin as the rest of the crew continued to eat the delicacies this area graced you with.

You felt his gaze continue to hold to you as you continued to dine with the other straw-hats, then pouring drinks from the large jug for one another and laughing to a tale Usopp was recollecting. He sat up briefly, noticing some strands of your hair began to fall back in front of your face and immediately reached up to tuck the locks behind your ear with his thumb and index finger. A warmth drew itself upwards to your cheeks at this unrestrained gesture, but you did not shy away from his affection.  

Sitting in silence, Zoro continued to hold his intense gaze in unwavering focus against your interaction and dynamic with the captain. His left brow arched at the subtle touches, lingering on your flushed face before looking to the mischievous expression your captain currently was adorning.

“Hey Cap’n,” Zoro smirked up, collecting a beer bottle from beside him, “why don’t you and the Quartermaster have a little dance after dinner? She hasn’t had one all night.”

Your eyes widened at Zoro, a scowl falling to your lips in wordless reprimand. Zoro’s smirk broadened with his left brow arching upwards to taunt you further. Before you managed to get a word out to chastise him further, Luffy spoke up to interrupt your thoughts.

“Sounds good to me!” he exclaimed with joy, “how about it, Quartermaster? Dance with your captain?”

Words fell halted in your throat, the breath you were going to use to speak them caught behind your parted lips. You snapped your gaze back to your captain, snickers from your crew began to whisper in hisses behind their clenched teeth.

“I-I don’t think I could-,” you began, watching your captain as he eagerly rose to his feet and extended his hand out towards you.

“-You’ll be fine,” he smiled, collecting your hand from beside you, “let’s go, music’s starting again.”

“Aye, Sir,” you nodded, allowing him to pull you to rise to your own feet.

You turned your head back to your crew as Luffy began leading you towards the open fire, closer to the vicinity of the music. Zoro’s smirk-like grin was plastered openly on his lips, shooting a small wink towards you at your unsettlement. Nami gave you a small wave, wordlessly uttering to you: “learn why he dances like that.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose with eyes scolding your crew before being twirled within the arms of your captain to meet his hazelnut orbs.

“Just relax, okay?” he scrunched his nose up while pressing his forehead against yours, eyes twinkling with mischief, “I know what I’m doing, let me lead you.”

A small squeak found its way to your throat, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He chuckled, taking both of your hands within his and began to effortlessly sway with you.

Crossing your arms upwards, he spun you to face away from him; rocking you within his arms briefly before experimentally intertwining his limbs with your own. He twirled you once again to face him, collecting your right hand within his left and placing his right hand wrapped completely around your shoulders beneath your left arm. He held you close in a tight and flush embrace, exaggerating his hips outwards and leading your feet to the beat and rhythm of the music.

Your eyes were wide and frantically looking everywhere else, breath hitching as he led you in the movements with such poise and ease. Meeting your eyes with the taunting and teasing gaze of the green-haired swordsman, you began to fall out of time to Luffy’s movements and stumble a little. You watched the swordsman’s chest tremble as a laugh fell from his lips at your stumble.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Luffy’s voice called to you, drawing your face up with his left hand weaving itself away from your right, “what’s the matter, are you okay?”

Your breath caught in your throat as he reached his hand up to touch your cheek tenderly. He continued swaying the both of you to the music while his eyes searched yours for the source of your unease.

“I-I just,” you began, your own eyes fluttering its concentration between his, “I’m a bit self-conscious dancing like this. It’s a bit-, uh-…”

He nodded with his brows furrowed, leading you with his verbal tone; “-a bit…?”

You clenched your teeth with a small grimace, “-a bit out of the ordinary? A bit unusual to be dancing like this?”

“Oh!” he nodded, returning his broad smile to his lips. He released your cheek from his left hand and again sought out your right to claim, “you don’t have to be self-conscious. As I said, I know what I’m doing. And if the attention bothers you so much, keep your eyes on me!”

The flush returned to your cheeks, the warmth threatening to tint its way to cover the entirety of your face as he confidently wove your right knee between his legs and swung his hips to the beat. You released a shaken breath from your lips, closing your eyes to bring your focus away from the Straw-Hat crew and their teasing gaze. Reopening your eyes, you met with the warm smile of your captain.

“There you go!” he complimented you while tracing small and indistinct lines on your spine, “‘atta girl!”

Internally, you were screaming. Your captain’s praise was nothing foreign to you, especially when in the heat of combat. Within the proximity he currently held with you, dancing you provocatively within the romantic atmosphere, this praise felt especially outlandish. Shaking your head to rid your mind of the fog his verbal praise rose within you, you kept your eyes fixed on him. His eyes softened as he began to hum along to the melody, twirling you away from him. Although his twirls moved your body far from his, he would always bring you back to hold you securely within his arms with his hips almost flush against your own.

As the dance continued on, you began to get more confident in your movements and trust for him to always support and lead you through it. He would sweep you into long-arched dips, circling around his body before having you snap back up to fall within his grip. All laughs and smiles drew upwards against your cheeks, a laugh or two flinging from your chests in glee to the music.

“How do you know how to dance like this?” you breathily asked him while he again twirled you to face away from him.

He released your hands from his grasp as he slowly ghosted them over your ribs, dragging them to rest on your hips. With closed eyes, he brought his lips up to your exposed neck and whispered against your skin: “Shanks taught me.”

Your glazed eyes opened widely, a small “oh” parting from you in surprise. You had heard many tales about Red-Haired Shanks and his crew of seasoned pirates from your captain. It should come as no surprise to you that he had shared more knowledge than the influence of a life of piracy onto your captain, but apparently the charm that comes with sensual dancing.

“When you were a child?” you asked him, lulling your head over as he continued to hold his lips a hair’s length away from your skin. He hummed in confirmation, the vibration prompting your pores to spring upwards over your neck and forearms.

“And the knowledge wasn’t lost to you over the years?” you quizzed him. His hands shifted you within his arms, turning you to face him again.

“I practiced with my brothers,” he chuckled, placing his forehead against your own, “my biggest brother would play guitar sometimes. I’d make my other one dance with me to the music.”

Before you could ask Luffy any further questions on the matter, the music concluded and your captain released you from his arms and cheered loudly to praise the musicians for their song. You trailed your gaze from the raven curls atop your captain’s head down over his sun-kissed skin to hold your lashes half-lidded as they sought out his eyes once more. He was so handsome, you knew that much was certain. All the time you spent together aboard the Merry had you drawing yourself closer to him, but now; you were completely smitten.

His joyful and lilted praise drew itself to a close, him turning to meet your eyes once more with his warm eyes. He reached his left hand down to collect yours within his comforting grip.

“Did you want another dance?” he asked hopefully, before he tore away his gaze to seek out a vendor’s stand behind him, “or we could get a drink? I could go for another one of those juice-things, I think.”

You giggled, reaching up your left hand to caress his smooth cheek. His skin ignited beneath your touch, glowing alongside the smoldering embers of the beach-front fire.

“As long as I'm with you, I’ll follow you anywhere,” you answered whimsically, prompting him to reach his forehead down to touch against your own. His nose scrunched up once more, his lips drawing out to a large smile as he answered you.

“Okay, great! Juice first,” he confirmed, nodding against your head, “then more dancing.”

“Aye, Sir.”

[yorickish]

my experiences with sauce thus far have led me to believe that there is no limit on the amount of aromatic vegetables that can be added to improve the sauce's flavor. my goal with tonight's sauce is to test this hypothesis by pushing far beyond my previous work, to vegetable counts I wouldn't even have considered possible just a few months ago

[the-necromancer-wife]

I've read a lot of theories pointing out that Skully might have grown in an isolated, religious-like community. But I don't think that's the case. Allow me to elaborate:

TW: Spoilers/ long post/ just me analyzing Skully

It's sort of a cliché for Tim Burton films that the main character is a hermit of some sorts. Someone who is not adapted to the society or social conventions and usually lived by themselves or basically under a rock.

A few examples could be: Barnabas Collins in Dark Shadows, Willy Wonka in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (and Charlie himself), Edward Scissorhands, Jack Skellington and of course Vincent Malloy.

So my hypothesis so far:

>Skully is not only based on Jack Skellington's appearance, but also in Tim Burton's characters archetype:

Skully had a hard time adapting to the enviroment he presumably lived in and presented difficulties with bonding and forming relationships with others his age. At first i was inclined to believe he could be on the spectrum (autism or asperger) and I don't really discard that possibility yet, but I don't think his social difficulties are entirely caused by autism. I think he is visibly different from others in opinions and behaviors and that's why he's labeled as "the weird kid". And "the weird kid" is not always autistic.

He is similar to characters like Edward Scissorhands who grew up isolated and was visibly different. As a result of his enviroment, he didn't know how modern society worked and he was misunderstood and rejected.

This is one of the main elements on every Tim Burton movie: a certain someone that had a different childhood or whose life experiences led them to have a different (sometimes excentric) approach that wasn't socially accepted, although they weren't really hurting others.

The psychologist Lev Vygotsky wrote about how important the enviroment and social interactions were for a child. The difficulties Skully presents are common in those who didn't really get to experience those.

If he had grown in a conservative community, he wouldn't have access to any material related to Halloween. Why would they keep those books around? And if the community was in fact centered around Halloween as a celebration, why would they be labeled as conservative? Either he was raised in a conservative household or he harvested those ideas himself by isolating and reading old books. Which makes sense and leads me to my second hypothesis:

>He's partially twisted from the character Vincent Malloy.

I already explained who Vincent Malloy was in another post but basically he was obsessed with Vincent Price (the horror actor), and had a dark and twisted view of the world as a result of this, plus the isolation and the books he read.

Skully could be somehow twisted from Vincent given his obsession with Jack Skellington and his behavior indicates, as I said before, that he wasn't part of the community he grew in, just like Vincent.

Jack Skellington, the pumpking king, is depicted everywhere as the harbinger of horror and fear, even if Jack himself is rather a sensitive individual that wants to do things differently. The whole Nightmare before Christmas plot revolves around that: People having a wrong view about Jack as a result of him being the Halloween representative and Jack carrying a crown that's too heavy for him.

Vincent Malloy also enjoyed the dark and twisted world of horror and fear. But I'll elaborate more im my next point:

>Skully's mannerisms and obvious gaps in common knowledge come as a result of his isolation as well as him (possibly) reading horror books that also helped to form in him a more gloomy representation of Halloween.

Skully's arcaic mannerisms and language could be from books he read. Just like Vincent Malloy enjoyed to read the books of Edgard Allan Poe and ended up introjecting some of the elements depicted in those novels as well as those represented by Vincent Price (for Skully, Jack Skellington)

Also, little Vincent decided to isolate himself because of how much he enjoyed to play with his imagination, leading him ultimately to the development of a maladaptative daydreaming that consumed him. And of course, the disinterest in playing with other kids since they didn't really share his obsession.

If this is the case and Skully was a kid that grew without contact with his immediate community (his choice or not), that would explain all of his troubles socializing at school.

And also his outdated knowledge on many things. Is not that he was born long ago before magic stones were a thing, but more likely HE didn't know magic stones existed. At some point he abandoned his solitude, of course. Maybe when he started school.

>His parents and/or relatives are not really involved that much in his life.

It's kinda obvious by now, but Skully could come from a family that neglected him emotionally or materially. If that's the case, it would explain a lot.

>It would explain his poor dental hygiene, as nobody teach him how to take care of his teeth and lips properly. As the clothes are provided by the book we can't really tell if he was wearing modest or elegant clothing before he entered that place. But why would the book would alter his mouth's appearance? The only obvious answer is that it didn't and Skully doesn't know how to brush his teeth, one of the first things a parent should teach their child to do.

>It would explain why he was isolated for so long. Either he isolated himself or was recluded by his parents. Either way, his parents should have known better than to leave him locked up from the outside world or should have intervened to help him interact with others.

>In the case he had a turbulent relationship with his parents or they were emotionally unavailable, that would explain why he developed his hyperfixation. Looking forward to a historical figure like Jack could be a result of him not feeling identified with neither a mother figure or a father figure. Of course this is a very very flexible statement as this is not always the case.

Anyway, everything I said here could be accurate or not. This are just my considerations given the information i have so far.

[i-draws-dinosaurs]

i was rewatching the rite of spring segment from fantasia and i've got to wonder. Why Did We Draw Archaeopteryx Like That. i remember toys having that same, boomerang arm shaped pose too. it's like a monkey lizard more than a bird.

Ooh okay this is a fun one cause while it technically is an Archaeopteryx and is listed as such in the production draft, I don't think the design is based on Archaeopteryx at all!

To me, this "Archaeopteryx" almost exactly resembles something else, the fascinating historical phenomenon called Proavis.

Proavis, or Tetrapteryx as some four-winged interpretations were called, was a hypothetical prehistoric creature that was proposed in the early 20th century as a best guess at what the unknown ancestor of birds could have looked like. The illustration above was drawn in 1926 by Gerhard Heilmann, a Danish artist and amateur scientist who argued that birds evolved from non-dinosaurian archosaurs like Euparkeria. In his 1916 book Vor Nuvaerende Viden om Fuglenes Afstamning and the 1926 English translation The Origin of Birds, he presented Proavis as the imagined midpoint between a scaly ground-running archosaur and Archaeopteryx, which at the time held the title of The First Bird.

Other versions of the same hypothesis, like William Beebe's Tetrapteryx above, were published and discussed around the same time, but it was Heilmann's Proavis that gained immense popularity to the point that bird evolution was considered essentially "solved" for decades. It was also painted by Zdeněk Burian, one of the Old Greats of palaeoart, which kept the concept alive in dinosaur books for decades as well.

Of course further study has shown this hypothesis to be incorrect and that birds are instead members of Dinosauria (and honestly Heilmann either missed or ignored a lot of evidence for a dinosaurian origin of birds even in the 1910s), but the Proavis to me remains a beautiful and fascinating concept that represents scientists and artists striving to understand the prehistoric world and the passage of evolution, much like we still do today!

And of course, its popularity in the early 20th century put it at the perfect time for Fantasia's artists to take... let's say heavy inspiration from Heilmann's imaginary Proavis when depicting a creature that was intended to be Archaeopteryx the whole time! The pattern of feathers matches up almost exactly, although the larger leg wings might have been inspired by Beebe's Tetrapteryx as well:

So to get back to your original question that led to this whole deep dive, artists didn't actually Draw Archaeopteryx Like That except when they were mistakenly drawing something that wasn't Archaeopteryx at all! If you want to read more about the Proavis and Tetrapteryx I recommend this Tetrapod Zoology blog post by Darren Naish, he does into more depth about the history of the concept and some of the unusual evolutionary ideas that Heilmann used to arrive at this weird and cool imaginary creature!

[inmyloveworld]

i'll look after you (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~1.3k

synposis: "don't think, just do," was a challenging mentality to live by. but bradley quickly finds there is a balance to be had between thinking and doing.

warnings: allusions to anxiety, work abuse, overthinking

a/n: another hurt/comfort, who's surprised? this has been sitting in my drafts with an unfinished smut ending for a month but i’m electing to post without it as i’m not confident in my ~other~ writing abilities yet.. enjoy!

It was rare that the Navy ever let its aviators off early for the day; even more so for the elite members of Top Gun. Yet, with the clock barely stroking past a sunny four, Bradley was reclined on the sofa with a beer in hand. The house was spotless thanks to a shared cleaning spree the day prior. Nothing could have made for a more perfect turn of events.

But Bradley was pondering on the few texts he'd received that day. They were void of any of the color and character he was used to. None of the words exaggerated their spelling, and periods punctuated every short sentence. Everyone had once remarked him as a chronic overthinker both in the air and on the ground. It was easy to dismiss the gnawing he felt in his gut as the remnants of that mentality.

So, he cracked a Heineken and let himself indulge in uncommon solitude. The flat screen played his favorite drama to placate his mind. A subtle hunger led to perusing online menus for takeout ideas. Every little bit of stimulation was a welcome distraction from his pompous presumptions.

And then he heard it: the abrupt slam of a car door. Fumbling footsteps made their way to the front stoop followed by a clamoring of keys against the painted wood. Bradley grinned as he awaited the arrival, even through the slight tug of worry in his chest.

He watched as you stumbled inside without care. Shaking hands hung up tightly gripped keys and those same fumbling feet kicked off their shoes in frustration. Your shoulders rose and fell sharply with every short breath.

Was I overthinking?

Bradley had yet to see your face, had yet to meet those eyes always bright with excitement. Your face remained tucked toward the wall with each passing second. Swallowing his hesitation, Bradley spoke over the TV. "Baby?"

Your body reacted in shock, jolting up as your head whipped around.

I wasn't.

Hot tears were rolling down your cheeks. Said cheeks were splotchy, proof that these tears were far from the first you'd shed that day. The bright eyes he adored were puffy and red. Their brightness now was not out of joy but sorrowful watering.

Bradley's heart clenched tightly. "Oh, angel," he cooed, hurrying to displace his Heineken to a coaster and mute the TV. You had little time and no energy left to fight his comfort. As your boyfriend stood before you with open arms, you crashed into them.

He wasted no time in embracing you. Sobs broke past your wobbling lips and muffled against his shoulder. "I've got you, babe," Bradley soothed. "I've got you, it's okay. Just let it out."

All you had ever wanted was for someone to support you whenever life put you through the wringer. Bradley felt it a great privilege to be that support, knowing you'd do nothing short of the same for him. He almost cursed himself for letting his insecurities derail his intuition for you, but dismissed the old habit of self-deprecation. Nothing mattered more in this moment than helping you get back on your feet.

"I- I didn't know, you'd be ho-home," you blubbered. The comment irked something in him. How long had you been coming home in a similar state, putting yourself together just in time for him to get home? Were there more despondent texts or other warning signals he hadn't picked up on?

Each hypothesis built a greater desire to look after you, and to follow up on any twinge of doubt he felt. He needed not only to think but to take action on what he thought. "Shh, none of that, baby. None of that. You can always let go around me, okay? 'Can always tell me what's bugging you."

The words lifted heaviness off of you little by little. You cried more at the safety you felt in his words. Bradley guided you, leaden-legged, to the couch. He sat first before gently tugging you atop his lap.

Warm palms rubbed against your cheeks to dry them. Warmer brown eyes sunk into yours, unconditional love seeping through every glint of gold. "Do you wanna talk about it now, or later?" Though not wanting to let your feelings fester, Bradley didn't desire to press you for answers.

He watched as you took in a steady breath and nodded slowly. "Work's just.. just been really frustrating." You sniffled before continuing with anecdotes of being overworked and underappreciated.

Bradley continued to rub softly at your skin as you spoke. His lips pressed assuring kisses to your temples at times you got too worked up to continue. He gave every ounce of care and attention he could to your stories as you vented them out.

You slumped forward in his hold as you finished with a heaving sigh. Another soft kiss was pressed to the crown of your head. "Thank you for telling me, baby." His hands took up rubbing up and down your arms to help ease any remaining tension.

Bradley wasn't sure what he could say or do to make any of this better for you, to help resolve your problems in one fell swoop so that you never had to feel this way again. At the same time, he wasn't sure that a fix-it attitude was what you wanted or needed.

Don't think, just do.

"I want you to know that you're amazing. You work your ass off in everything you do without any promise of reward, and that's really admirable." You lifted your head slightly to see him, to see the sincerity dripping from his praises. "But you deserve recognition for it. It's not fair that you're continually overlooked for fuckheads who don't do a fraction of the shit you do. And it's not fair that you're made to feel so much less than you're worth. I'd kick all their asses if I could." His empty threat broke a small giggle from your lips as grateful tears replaced those of frustration.

Bradley returned your smile with one of his own before resuming a serious tone. "You don't ever have to put on a show for me, okay? I want you to know you're safe to come to me with anything, even the littlest complaints that you write off as whining. Do you ever think I'm whining about Jake getting on my nerves? Or Maverick getting too tough with me in the air?"

"Sometimes."

"Okay, that wasn't the best example." You laughed again, louder this time, and Bradley felt his chest swell with pride. He leaned forward to catch your lips against his, softly, allowing you to take the reins. The kiss stayed soft and sweet as you melted against him. Soft breaths filled the space between you as you parted, resting foreheads against one another. "I'll always look after you, angel. Don't forget that." You nodded in agreement before kissing him once more.

"Thank you."

🏷️: @avengersfan25

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 3 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you like it! Don't hesitate to let me know if you prefer the OC to become y/n and/or gender neutral.

Also, I apologize for any mistakes you might find, I'm just a French girl doing her best with Google Translate and her average score of 5 in English classe.

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Happy reading!

Chapter 3

The servants had been kicked out of the house within hours. Nesta and Elain waited by the window in the large dining room, while Feyre went to open the door to the Faes. She led them through the house.

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel were burning with barely concealed excitement at the prospect of seeing their mate again, whom they had only caught a glimpse of earlier. But they still had many questions and doubts. Was she really their soulmate? Did she have character? Was her hair silky? Was her skin soft? Would she like them?

So, when they arrived in the dining room accompanied - unfortunately for them - by Tamlin and Lucien, they were more than disappointed not to see the young woman. 

Feyre had the reflex to say to herself that she had done well to choose the dining room with the high ceiling when she saw the imposing stature of the five faes in front of her sisters. They looked extremely intimidating, and the fear on Elain and Nesta's faces only confirmed her hypothesis. Feyre quickly introduced her sisters to the faes.

Nesta stood in front of Elain in a protective gesture, while Elain kept herself from fainting.

“And where's your other sister? Luxiana,” asked Rhysand, trying to sound as detached as possible. 

Feyre squinted for a moment. Rhysand was looking at every corner of the room and had used a peculiar tone as if he were asking the question out of curiosity, but she had clearly seen how Cassian and Azriel had frozen and strained their ears waiting for the answer.

Her best friend was beautiful and she knew it. In other circumstances, knowing she'd made a great impression on these three faes might have made her smile if it weren't for those three evil faes over there.

“She's not my sister, she's my best friend,” replied Feyre. “And she makes sure the last member of house staff has left. She shouldn't be… long.”

Feyre had barely finished her sentence when the pretty blonde entered the room. She froze at the sight of the faes, but there was no reaction on her face. It was as if she'd expected or was used to seeing such handsome and imposing creatures.

Luxiana's expression was cold and serious, that said, and though she tried to hide it, she was tired from the tears she'd shed all afternoon and which were still glistening on her cheeks. 

This realization could have torn the hearts of the three Illyrians apart, but they were just far too caught up by the beauty of their soul mate and the dozens of strange sensations stirring in their chests to pay any more attention to anything else. Perhaps it was simply due to their mating bond, but they could have sworn that the room and the atmosphere around them had become brighter and more colorful when she entered.

Luxiana was in no way intimidated when she first laid her eyes on Azriel, slowly detailing him from head to toe. A shiver ran down her spine. He seemed cold and intimidating. It occurred to her that he was the most dangerous in the room.

Azriel had squinted in surprise and his heart had started pounding like mad in his chest when the blonde's electric blue eyes landed on him. She'd seen him first. Nobody usually saw him first, especially not when he was trying, as he was now, to blend into the shadows to be less intimidating. No, people, even the most experienced faes, usually only saw him when he decided to be seen, or just by chance out of the corner of their eye. But she had set her eyes directly on him. Without knowing why, though, the shadows that always surrounded him had gone to hide behind his back, as if it was intimidated by the young woman and her light. That said, Azriel could hear them whispering from here. ‘Our mate’, ‘Our’, ‘Mine’, they kept repeating, or perhaps it was Azriel's inner voice. 

Luxiana then slid her gaze to Rhysand and detailed him in the same way. He seemed arrogant and pretentious. He tilted his head with a smirk. He seemed confident, but a flash of playfulness shone in his eyes and Luxiana loved to play. She could only return his expression, but squinted in an attempt to see through him.

Rhysand was trying to make a good impression. He almost prayed to the cauldron that the blonde's eyes would land on him too, and when they had, he was intrigued by her reaction to him. He almost collapsed. Fortunately, he recovered so quickly that no one sawn it, but he almost fell to the ground because of the blonde that was so fucking breathtaking. In fact, that's what happened to him, he was breathless by the mere fact that this girl noticed him, and he was thanking the cauldron he was a good actor when all he wanted to do was throw himself on his knees in front of her and beg her to touch him.

Then Luxiana set her eyes on Cassian without leaving the smirk she stole from Rhysand. The last Illyrian was the most imposing of them all, the most muscular and should look the most dangerous, yet Luxiana just had the impression that he was the least intimidating. Her smile widened to the point of sympathetic mockery. She just wanted to pinch his cheeks.

When the blonde laid eyes on him, Cassian was dead. He died at least three or four times, his heart having stopped beating, then bursting violently against his chest before stopping again. He stared at the woman in front of him and could do nothing but admire her beauty. He was doing his best not to think about the obscene things he wanted to do to her lips or that irresistible urge to plunge his tongue into her dimple that had formed on his cheek at her smirk. A smile Cassian was more than eager to make her lose by kissing her until she forgot to breathe.

Although the scene and Luxiana's analysis were unfolding rapidly, time seemed to stand still and the world to stop to contemplate the encounter between the three faes and the blonde.

When their mate's eyes fell on Lucien at their side, a feeling of anger and jealousy gripped the guts of the three Illyrians. They didn't like the idea of their betrothed setting her eyes on anyone other than the three of them. It was an intense jealousy that none of them had ever felt, and it burned through their entire bodies, forcing them to clench their fists. They tried to reassure themselves that they certainly wouldn't overreact to a simple glance, but the only thing they wanted was to rip Lucien's skin off.  

Then Luxiana's gaze fell on Tamlin and she lost her smile. Her expression regained the gravity with which she had entered the room. Her eyebrows furrowed and her teeth clenched. She was annoyed. She recognized him. He was in the spring court high lord's palace when she infiltrated to find Feyre, because he was the spring court high lord. It was because of him that her best friend had ended under the mountain and had to go through all those atrocities. He did nothing to save her, and perhaps he could have done nothing other than what he'd already done to protect her, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn't enough for Luxiana. 

Explosive anger bubbled in the blonde's chest. She clenched her fists as she took long strides towards Tamlin.

“You,” she spat, pointing at him.

Tamlin winced, raising both hands in the air and rolling his eyes. This human was driving him out of his mind uncontrollably and he would love to shut her up, but she was the person Feyre cared about the most so he had to try and calm things down. 

“Listen,” he began, only to be interrupted by a monstrous slap from Luxiana.

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel were initially surprised by the anger that emerged on the pretty blonde's face. Firstly, because they found her even sexier that way, but also because she seemed far too sweet, affectionate and innocent to feel that kind of negative emotions. So when she fearlessly slapped the high lord of the spring court, they could only admire the bravery of this human girl who just provoked a powerful fae almost twice her size in length and breadth. 

Tamlin, who looked as if his ego was bruised by being slapped by a human, was wide-eyed at first, before turning his murderous gaze on Luxiana. Without waiting, she wanted to slap him again, but Tamlin fiercely grabbed her wrist before she could reach his cheek.

Tamlin let out a menacing growl which snapped the three brothers out of their contemplation. How dare he touch her ? If he just thought a second of hurting her, the three Illyrians knew that anything would stop them for tearing him to pieces, no matter what that meant for the Spring Court or the Night Court. The three of them were about to throw themselves between him and her to protect their mate from the bastard, but before they could even move, she gave him an impressively forceful calf kick to his genitals.

Tamlin fell to his knees as he released her, hands between his thighs as he groaned in pain with such power it sounded like he could cry. 

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel froze, then exploded with laughter. Admiring to see so much anger and courage in such a small body as Luxiana's. 

Rhysand laughed. He was laughing, and he hadn't laughed in fifty years.

The blonde didn't even give them any attention, far too focused on killing Tamlin with her eyes.

“It's all your fault!” she shouted at the kneeling blond. “Feyre has suffered because of you!”

“Luxiana,” Feyre called out, grabbing her by the arm and trying to pull her back. 

Feyre knew that Luxiana was angry and that she thought Tamlin was responsible for everything that had happened to her, and although a part of her had relished the beating her best friend had given to her lover, she knew she was entirely to blame. She had decided to go into the mountains to save him, even though he had kept her away to protect her. She still had nightmares about it, but it was in no way Tamlin's fault. 

Luxiana knew all that, she understood it. But she needed to throw her hatred and guilt on someone other than herself. She was the only one who failed to protect Feyre. She would have died under that mountain if Rhysand hadn't been there.

So Luxiana gently extricated herself from Feyre's grip and moved closer to Tamlin. The latter stood up abruptly, growling, anger distorting his face. He towered over Luxiana.

“Tam, stop,” Lucien advised worriedly.

“I am a high lord,” Tamlin hissed through clenched teeth, ignoring his friend, ”I forbid you to disrespect me like that.”

The scene had the merit of calming Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel, who regained their seriousness. Their fists clenched until their knuckles turned white. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” scoffed Luxiana.

“I could snap your neck like a twig,” threatened Tamlin with a glare as she took a step towards her.

Azriel growled an animal sound far more violent than the one Tamlin had uttered, Cassian took a step forward to grab Luxiana by the elbow and place her behind him and Rhysand took a step forward. 

“I'd advise you to be extremely careful about what you say and who you threaten if you don't want me to rip out your tongue and give it to that girl as an apology trophy,” Rhysand growled in a deep voice with a threatening cold face.

Luxiana opened her mouth wide as she detailed the three imposing Illyrians who had stood in front of her to protect her from the high lord of the spring court. She had no need of protection, but she loved the fact that they protected her without even knowing her, and she loved even more the hatred that burned in their eyes as they looked at Tamlin. These faes seemed to hate Tamlin as much as she did, which made them Luxiana's best allies. 

Tamlin petrified, but an angry grimace twitched his nostrils and distorted his expression. Luxiana noticed that he had tensed up and was clenching his fists. He seemed to be afraid of the violet-eyed high lord who had just come to her defense, which meant that this fae was more powerful than Tamlin. Everything lit up in Luxiana's mind.

The blonde was well aware of the animosity that reigned between the lords of the courts, but she sensed that the three brown haired males were just waiting for a good reason to attack Tamlin. They had now irrevocably become her best allies and were, above all, faes capable of hurting Tamlin more than she was, especially as she didn't want to cause her best friend's husband too much pain, even though she was dying to do it. 

Luxiana shifted slightly from Cassian's body to put her head between the Illyrian's imposing wings and the violet-eyed fae's body.

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel heard her move and turned to look at her. 

“Yeah, watch your mouth or they'll beat the shit out of you,” said Luxiana haughtily.  

The blonde's words made the three Illyrians smile uncontrollably, their chests lifting with pride as they raised their heads. There was no doubt that they loved what their soulmate was implying: that she felt safe with them and that they looked stronger and more intimidating than Tamlin. 

The high lord of the spring court glared menacingly at Luxiana and growled a warning. 

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel's blood ran cold. How dare he look at her again? Rhysand unleashed his power without warning. Tamlin collapsed.

“Tamlin,” cried Feyre, throwing herself on top of her husband.

“He's not dead,” said Rhysand disinterestedly, without even looking at Feyre. “He's just asleep. And it'll be better for everyone that he remains until tomorrow.”

She glared at Rhysand, who didn't even calculate her, then at Luxiana. 

“What? You heard him, he'll get over it,” the blonde huffed, rolling her eyes. 

Feyre wasn't really surprised by her best friend's behavior. She'd always had guts and a fiery attitude. She was impulsive and always regretted her actions afterwards, that said, she didn't like seeing the man she loved down, unconscious because of her best friend.

Feyre huffed. Her face was contorted with worry as she tenderly stroked Tamlin's hair.

The three Illyrians turned to Luxiana, who was staring at Tamlin's body with pursed lips and a mocking expression. When she realized they were looking at her, she detailed them in turn for a moment, crossing her hands behind her back and smiling innocently with all her teeth. They were beautiful, and Luxiana only noticed it now as she detailed the three of them again quickly. They were the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen. Ever. 

The blonde returned her gaze to the pointy-eared fae, and the instant her blue pupils plunged into his violet eyes, Rhysand was electrified from head to toe. 

“You're the high lord of the night court, aren't you?” asked Luxiana, squinting her eyes to detail him further. 

She was asking, but she had no doubt. In any case, there was only one high lord who terrified all the others, and that was him. 

Rhysand nodded with a smirk and an air of pride. He loved the idea of this woman knowing him.

“You're the one who helped Feyre under the mountain,” she added. 

Rhysand lost his smile at the memory and the surprise. He hadn't expected her to bring up the subject. He nodded, not sure what else to do. 

“Helping is a big word,” Feyre grumbled, laying her lover's head on her lap.

Luxiana smiled without taking her eyes off Rhysand. 

“Don't pay any attention to what she says,” she rolled her eyes and smiled. “I understand that without you, Feyre would be dead.” 

She held out her hand with a gentle, sympathetic smile that made Rhysand swallow loudly.

“My name is Luxiana and thank you,” she added. “Thank you for saving my best friend.” 

Rhysand had no reason to take this woman's hand, no merit in doing so, yet he couldn't resist touching her. He reached out to squeeze the blonde's palm and was far too disturbed by the simple contact, which electrified him entirely. 

He leaned towards her to bring his face closer to the blonde's, trying to ignore the pleasant sensation of her slender hand in his.

“I didn't do it for her,” he whispered.

Luxiana chuckled, lowering her head. “It doesn't matter who you did it for, you did it, and that's what counts. It may not mean much to you, but you saved the life of the person I love most. I owe you a lot for that. I sincerely do. Thank you.”

Rhysand straightened in surprise. He had unknowingly saved the person his soulmate loved the most? She seemed sincere, and he wasn't sure why, but her thanks lifted a heavy weight from his shoulders and allowed him to take a deep, invigorating breath. Suddenly, everything that had happened under the mountain didn't matter that much if it meant he could receive the thanks of his mate. If it prevents his soul mate from suffering. If it allows him to meet his soul mate. 

“A human may not be able to give you much, but if one day you do need something,” she continued, leaning towards him with a smile, “oh great and powerful high lord of the night court Rhysand, and I will do my best to help you.” 

Rhysand laughed. He knew exactly what he'd like to ask her, but had no idea how to do it without sounding indecent or forcing her to do something. 

“Only my enemies call me Rhysand, call me Rhys,” demanded the high lord, keeping Luxiana's hand in his, impossible to tear himself away from her touch.

Luxiana smiled with all her teeth, bringing out two dimples that drove Rhysand mad and incoherent. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on the blonde's hand to try to regain composure and not pounce on her, doing things to that mouth that would even make Azriel blush. 

Realizing that her hand was still into the lord's one, the blonde extricated herself from his grip. Rhysand had to fight the unpleasant feeling that a piece of himself was being torn away when she retrieved his hand, and had to grit his teeth to keep from taking it back. 

“Very well, oh high lord of the night court Rhys,” she teased him. “Don't hesitate.”

Cassian laughed and Azriel and Rhysand smiled.

“Mocking a fae lord,” remarked Cassian, ”you've really got guts. Do you know who we really are and how powerful we are?”

Unconcealed pride swelled the Illyrian's chest as Luxiana laughed and looked back at him. He loved it when she looked at him. 

“I've got an idea,” declared Luxiana. “You're Cassian, the commander of the armies.”

She returned her gaze to Azriel, who froze from head to toe, trying not to appear tense.

“And you're Azriel, the spy master.” 

She returned her gaze to the Illyrian with the red siphon.

“I've heard about you,” she continued.

And it was true. She had heard of them. The strongest Illyrians and the lord of the night court. All the rumors about them weren't very nice to hear. 

“Rumors say you're terrifying, that your people are unhappy and that you even torture children.”

A muscle twitches in Rhysand's jaw. Normally, these rumors about him making his people miserable didn't bother him and that's why he didn't waste his time contradicting them - it served his interests too well against his enemies - but today, he hated the idea of this woman thinking of him in this way.

“And you believe them?” asked Rhysand with a sudden cold voice. 

Luxiana smirked.

“I don't know yet, but to tell you the truth,” she replied, “you're not as intimidating as the rumors say. In fact, you're not at all.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow in astonishment. This little piece of woman didn't find them intimidating, even though she was probably as small as Amren and a fragile human with no powers. Did she have guts or simply no instinct for self-preservation?

“Well, except him,” she continued, pointing at Azriel, “he's intimidating. Well, a little bit.”  

Azriel squinted. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He certainly liked the fact that he appeared more intimidating than his brothers and would be harping on them for a long time, but he certainly didn't like the fact that he was scaring the one who was undoubtedly his soul mate. He almost cursed himself that this was the case, but it wasn't fear that trailed in the blonde's blue eyes when she set them on him, but intrigue. If Azriel intimidated her, she loved it, and this realization could only make him smile. He loved having that effect, especially on this woman.

“What's he got that we don't?” vexed Cassian, directly wounded in the ego. 

Not that he'd like the idea of intimidating his mate, but that normally shouldn't be the case for all three of them. 

Luxiana smiled, hilarious in anticipation of what she was about to say and knowing full well what it meant to Illyrians.

“He got bigger wings.”

Cassian and Rhysand made big eyes at Azriel, who burst out laughing. 

“What?” gasped Cassian. “No, he did not.” 

Luxiana pursed her lips to keep from laughing and had to lower her head so they wouldn't notice. 

“That's enough,” raged Nesta, “enough wasted time. The cook has left us a meal. Let's eat so it'll be over quicker.” 

[probablyasocialecologist]

In 2023, three scientists, led by Justine Karst at the University of Alberta, published a paper in the journal Nature Ecology & Evolution arguing that the wood wide web theory had gone too far. Their language was measured: it was not that these mycorrhizal networks didn’t exist, they said, but rather that the claims about what they did outstripped the evidence. More research was needed. Simard did not take the criticism well. Their paper, she responded, was “an injustice to the whole world”. In an article published in Nature last month, she accused Karst of a conflict of interest because she had taken funding from Canada’s Oil Sands Innovation Alliance – the implication being that her comments were financially rather than scientifically motivated. Karst then hit back at these claims, both in the article and later on X. “This was an attack made in bad faith to demean my character and question my objectivity,” she wrote. “Behind the scenes of the ‘debate’ has been ugly. It might get worse and I could spend more time defending my character than debating the evidence. I hope you understand that I can only lose in this situation. So, I’m out. Debate without me.” We think of science as neutral: experiments unfolding neatly, numbers noted on spreadsheets, society advancing in increments towards an absolute truth. Scientists are the automatons behind this process – temporarily able to transcend the biases, beliefs and subjectivity that make everyday life so complicated for the rest of us. But that could not be further from the truth. Scientists are not superhuman – they, too, form attachments. Indeed, in their original article, Karst et al did not blame Simard alone for the runaway success of the wood wide web. Other scientists had also exaggerated the evidence, they wrote, citing papers in support of the hypothesis, even when the actual papers were lukewarm on the idea. No wonder so many journalists had seized on the metaphor: not only was it emotionally appealing, it also seemed incontrovertibly true. As a result, the speed at which the idea had spread through the public realm had outpaced the science underpinning the idea itself.

9 July 2024

[sotethemighty]

"It's been thirty years since we last saw each other, right, Yukong?"

Aujourd'hui, j'arrive pour offrir un croquis saphique! Whilst working on the previous fan art, I encountered a massive art block where I struggled to produce anything substantial. Obviously, I did finish it in the end, but it was not through much trial and tribulation. The art block caused most of anything I drew to fall far below what I expected of myself, and I believe that this failure to reach my goals led to me taking over a month to finish the piece. This one serves as an application of a hypothesis I developed: "If I put aside all previous notions of harmony and what I think makes art interesting to look at, would this free me focus on what I want to create?" A sample size of one is wholly insufficient to prove nor disprove my ruminations, but I still think it is important to record my initial impressions. If anything, it helps put my thoughts in legible order.

As is visibly obvious, Yoji Shinkawa's work was a great inspiration for this piece. Specifically, his concept art for the FOXHOUND unit in Metal Gear Solid helped give direction here. The broken linework serves two primary purposes: To put emphasis on certain areas, and to act as shading. It also helps out with the art block; I no longer need to think about the actual silhouette or outline of each subject, a couple lines and curves can suggest a great amount of detail. Combined with a pastel colour palette that suggests light hues, I no longer need to worry about drawing in shadows or anything of that sort. Freeing myself from these shackles, I am now able to focus on aspects that I want to create, like the intimate poses, varied expression, and faces at different angles. I conclude that even though no definitive answer to my hypothesis can be reached, I think that this approach shows promise for relieving the mental stress I have around art.

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