#and with that i conclude my dissertation on:

[queenlua]

When Tibarn calls for the bird tribes to unite as one nation in Serenes, Reyson is skeptical, and Naesala refuses outright. But when rising ocean levels threaten to devour the islands of both Phoenicis and Kilvas, none of them have much of a choice in the matter.

This fic is now finished at ~138k words!

If any of these pithy/snarky summaries sound good to you...

"the bird tribes should've had a Hague, probably"

"Naesala has a bad time & then Reyson has a bad time & then they make each other worse <3"

"Leanne gets a fucking gun knife"

...there's a decent chance you'll enjoy this story; take a peek :)

(Also: peep the latest chapters for some beautiful new @gloamvonhrym art <3333 THANK YOU FOR ALL THE BIRDPEOPLE VISUAL SPLENDOR)

[catsy83]

Ooooof, these tags hit right in the gut.

Me: I don't get it. I thought I was doing a lot better than I was a few years ago. I'm like 10 times more on top of things than I used to be. How does everything feel terrible now?

The Tiny Me in OSHA-approved Hi-Vis Gear Who lives in my brain and pulls all the levers: Boss, it's the fascism. You're completely gunked up with cortisol due to the fact that your entire daily life is now underscored with a haunting awareness of the rapid erosion of your rights, dignity, and any and all social safety nets, and you're also bearing witness to the most vulnerable people immediately being persecuted. This creates a natural stress response that basically means you're going to continue having memory and organizational problems, as well as emotional imbalances.

Me: BUT I HAVE A BULLET JOURNAL AND I MEDITATE NOW.

Tiny OSHA Me: BOSS, THE FASCISM.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Why Sky Wears Baggy Clothes: A Dissertation into Skyloftian Boner Culture and Outfitting Practices

So. Remember the infamous dick post? I have more thoughts, specifically concerning Sky's FAT COCK and how Skyloftian's specifically evolved greater vascular and hemoglobin systems in response to life in high altitudes. Prepare yourselves.

In my last piece, I calculated Skyloft's altitude of roughly 7,544.4 feet and covered how certain systems were affected to adapt to the climate, which eventually turned into a rant about Sky's dick, but now, I present to you: the reason Sky wears baggy clothes is to hide his altitude-induced, iron-man erections.

But first, let's explore the clothes themselves. Due to its high altitude, Skyloft is cold. Google AI has informed me that wind speed typically fluctuates, assuming the altitude is within the range of 6,000 to 8,000 feet, between 12 to 23 mph. On the Beaufort Scale, a chart used to estimate wind speed based on visual appearances, 23 mph is considered a "Fresh Breeze", and hardly a whisper to anyone from the Midwest. With this in mind, the standard temperature (excluding wind chill) of an area with a similar altitude to Skyloft is roughly 34°F or 1°C, which explains the multiple layers typically worn by many in-game Skyward Sword characters. Using both of these values and an internet wind chill calculator, we can conclude that the average temperature of Skyloft (assuming the wind speed is a comfortable 16 mph) is 24°F or -4°C, with a calculated range of 22°F or -5.6°C (23 mph, 34°F) to 25°F or -3.9°C (12 mph, 34°F).

With a wind-chilled air temperature of 24°F, Skyloft's layered, loose-fitting clothing standards make perfect sense, seeing as loose clothes are considered advantageous during cold weather because the small gaps between skin and fabric create pockets of space for body heat to gather, creating a pseudo-barrier against the elements.

Now, onto Sky's particular outfit. Based on this post by Jojo herself, Sky wears approximately four full upper-body layers (white, olive-khaki, chainmail, and mint tunic), one midsection layer (red sash), one lower-body layer (brown-green?? pants), and his embroidered sailcloth; he is prepared-prepared for chilly temperatures. As well as being a wonderfully adjacent nod to modern-day Tibetan culture, these clothes are perfect for conserving heat, and, concurrently, his life. 'But Fyre, we want the iron man dick-canons!' you may wail, but I'm not finished. There's quite a bit of debate in the skydiving community about whether tight or loose-fitting clothes are better, but many users state that loose-fitting clothes have the advantage of drag. But why is this good? In skydiving, and many of the Zelda games as a whole, control is essential; it's what allows us to feel safe, and thus allows for more logical, calm thinking due to adrenaline and cortisol (stress hormones) reduction. By increasing the user's surface area, loose-fitting clothes create drag, which, in physics, leads to better midair control during free-fall. Compared to Skyward Sword, where free-falling is as common a game mechanic as swinging a sword around, specialized aerodynamic control via clothing is a crucial mechanism that the Skylofians would absolutely take advantage of, considering that many of them regular jump from the sky and ride giant pelican-bird-creatures. In addition, due to his evolutionarily enhanced circulatory and vascular system, Sky himself is more than prepared to handle any and all endocrine stressors due to falling, and his specific outfit design only backs the theory that the residents of Skyloft are not only equipped to handle life in the sky on an evolutionary level, but from a cultural and biological level as well.

Okay. That was a lot, so I'm going to reintroduce some scholarly degeneracy at its finest: the concept of Sky's iron-man erections. Keeping with the vein of Skyloftian's specifically designing their clothes to be advantageous in every sense of the word, it isn't too far-fetched that they would make a point to account for any and all bodily changes that may occur during free-fall, or simply life on a floating rock, which absolutely includes altitude-induced erections. Confused? Let me explain.

In the dick-canon post, I largely referenced the concept of "airplane boners" as a defining factor for why Sky is HUNG, because it has been scientifically proven that abrupt changes in pressure affect vascular expansion and contraction, which absolutely extends to the pelvic region, and, thus, shifting erective status of the penis. With this in mind, it can be inferred that a race of people with the same evolutionary traits would have also evolved culturally to deal with this conundrum, which perfectly explains the bagginess of Sky's, and every other resident of Skyloft's, outfit choices. For example, the looseness of his pants is likely to be a cleverly-disguised ploy to hide what is by all definitions a biological predicament shared by all members of the Hylian species. It's in the same vein as modern-day menstrual cycles. Oh no, you got your period? Just slap a pad on it! Except the pad is baggy pants to hide an erection you can't control because flying is your way of life. Apply this to Sky and you've got a good idea of why his outfit is the way it is.

But that's not all! In addition to concealing any potential erections, Skyloftian clothing is also specifically designed to protect against the elements, which, you guessed it, extends to male and female reproduction organs. Whether through the use of thick, temperature-impenetrable cloth, specific (down-low) enchantments, or specialized padding, it is almost undeniable that a society as developed as the Skyloftians would have a fail-safe method to preserve both their lives and modesty through practical outfit stylizations.

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for: iron-man erections and what the fuck that refers to. I'm sure some of you are getting sick of the words 'vascular capacity' and 'erection of the penile region', but I promise you, this is where the magic happens. So. Sky is basically evolutionarily-predetermined to be hung. He has excellent hemoglobin and vascular system capacity, which would absolutely affect not only his body as a whole, but sexual functions as well, specifically in the fact that his erections are indestructible. Due to a combination of evolution, age, and gender, it's incredibly easy for him to become aroused, and, concurrently, incredibly difficult to 'take care' of his arousal in the same manner as the typical, non-evolutionized male would. That flagpole is raised and it is NOT coming down. This begs the question: how does he deal with this conundrum, specifically after some type of altitude-based activity, and what cultural practices are permitted in this context? Are all Skyloftian's serial masturbators or are they simply incredible at restraining themselves, which could act as a nod to Sky's typically unbothered attitude? In concurrence, if masturbation is socially acceptable, how does Sky find all that time to jack off? Does the rest of the chain know, or are they oblivious to his predicaments?!

In short, Skyloftian fashion and societal modesty culture is heavily influenced by the hilariously, yet closely related Skyloftian boner culture, in both outfit practicality and social norms, which is very likely to explain Sky's choice of clothes and, once again, why he is hung as FUCK. Thank you for witnessing my madness and Hylia bless.

Additional queries:

Does Priapism exist in Skyloftian society? Yes and no. The term 'priapism' refers the prolonged erection of the penis (4+ hours), often without any sexual stimulation, which cements it as a fairly common medical condition for humans. However, due to their unique vascular biology, it is unlikely that this condition would be viewed at the severity it is in modern-day humans, which begs the question: is it even an issue at all? Increased circulatory and vascular capabilities indicate a greater blood flow, whereas priapism is the persistent lack of appropriate blood flow, meaning that, due to their biology, priapism may very well be an indicator of old age in the same manner loss of vision or a general slowing down is for humans. On the other hand, if it were to possess the same significance as it does with modern-day humans, what

@skylover69 come feed bestie

[amanufacturedheaven]

Political Woman.

25/05/25

My academic year has officially concluded.

Life Updates

I've started my job in politics

I was asked to apply to run for Mayor

I drink 5 double-shot iced lattes a day now (my left arm hurts)

I'm beginning to outline my proposals for my dissertations (yes, I mean for that to be plural)

[thefinestbrandofeefa]

clocked this one earlier than i did asexuality.. i think what im feeling is.. executive dysfunction… WHO PROMOTED THAT IDIOT AMIRITE???

recently its started to take me 2-3 business days to complete an action that would take 10 minutes and even then, sometimes there is delays in delivery and the package gets shipped elsewhere.. its a mess

[peachyjinx]

LYHOM: Ch 5: A Mistake

Summary: Charlotte confronts Loki about the grade on her paper. Loki deals with his new feelings. W/C 3k

Warnings: 18+! Degrading language, angsty masturbation 😉

Masterlist / Ao3

An “F”. What the actual fuck. 

Professor Laufeyson’s words– something about ancient Asgardian customs– floated past her ears without registering, her mind too occupied with the red F blazing like a brand on the paper she couldn’t stop looking at. She’d never gotten an F before. Never. A swell of emotion began to build in her throat, a threat of tears brewing.  

Charlotte forced her gaze upward. Professor Laufeyson stood at the front of the room engrossed in his own story, explaining rules of the Asgardian court, a reverent smile on his gorgeous face. Charlotte felt the anger building. 

The F was a mistake. It had to be. She’d spent too many hours on that paper, combing through every resource she could find. She’d even managed to cite two obscure dissertations she’d found buried in the library database.

After he had returned their papers, the remainder of the class felt like forever. Charlotte gave up any pretense of taking notes, as an internal war began to build around how to speak to him about this after class. She desperately wanted to rage and scream at him. Conceding to the reality of the situation– that she needed to get this conversation right, and not risk her future– she swallowed the rage and tears. 

Instead, she began mentally rehearsing what she would say to Professor Laufeyson after class. She’d be calm. Professional. She’d appeal to his sense of fairness and academic integrity. Surely he would see reason. 

The lecture concluded and her teacher dismissed the class with a thoughtful smile and sat at his desk, gathering his work. A loose curl fell slightly over his forehead in an effortlessly elegant disarray. Damn him, why did he always have to look so amazing? Couldn’t he have an “off day” so she wouldn’t be distracted while she confronted him?

 “What’s the matter with you?,” Ryan whispered, looking at Charlotte with concern as he pointed to her leg, which she had been bouncing anxiously. 

 “Huh?,” she realized, surprised by her own fidgeting. She forced her leg to still, though her fingers began their own dance, tapping out a silent melody of anxiety upon her desk.

“Oh… um… so I’m going to talk to Professor Laufeyson about this ‘F’ after class,” she murmured, noting the professor’s fleeting glance in their direction.

“Are you nuts?,” he asked, shaking his head as he stuffed his laptop into his expensive leather bag.

“What do you mean?”

“Seriously? He’s an asshole,” Ryan said, his voice gaining volume as more students filtered out of the room. “And do you want ‘F’s for the rest of the semester? It’ll totally bring down your GPA!”

Charlotte winced at his increasing volume, glancing nervously toward the front of the room as she gathered her things. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed.

“I’m just saying,” Ryan continued, only marginally quieter, “the guy has a reputation. Three complaints to the department head last semester alone. He made my friend’s sister cry during an office hours appointment.”

“Well, it was a great paper and I think if I approach this maturely-”

“Oh, and tell him he’s wrong?” Ryan snorted, slinging his bag over his shoulder. The classroom had nearly emptied now.

“No, just…” Charlotte hesitated, a flicker of doubt clouding her judgement  for just a moment. But Charlotte was not one to back down– not when it came to her passion, her future. “...I don’t know, plead my case or something. Prove to him I really care– maybe he won’t be such an asshole?”

Ryan’s laugh was sharp and disbelieving. “Right, because the god of mischief is known for his compassion and understanding.”

“This is important to me, Ryan,” Charlotte insisted, her voice quieter but firm. “I’ve never gotten an F in my entire college career. Not once. And I’m not about to start now, especially not when I know this paper deserved at least a B.”

“Well, that’s a dumb idea, but you do you, I guess,” Ryan shrugged as he stood up from his desk. His expression softened slightly as he looked down at her, his brown eyes warm despite his dismissive words. “Good luck!” he added with a playful salute before walking out of the room.

Charlotte stood, feeling wobbly as she mentally prepared to confront Professor Laufesyson. “An entitled prince,” she reminded herself, trying to strip the man before her of the power he wielded with a stroke of his pen. And former god. An incredibly sexy former god. 

Stop that. 

Charlotte took a deep breath. It was now or never. She needed to be firm yet fair, to present her case with clarity and conviction.

Just be calm, collected– and don’t show that he’s getting to me. 

Loki watched Charlotte approach his desk, noting the tension in her shoulders, the determined set of her jaw. Her normal cheerful demeanour had been replaced by something else, and he felt a small thrill of anticipation.

“Professor Laufeyson,” Charlotte said, her voice firm but obviously nervous. “I need to speak with you about my grade.”

“Miss Baker,” he replied, allowing a small smile to play at the corners of his mouth. “I had a feeling I'd be seeing you today.” He leaned back in his chair, curious to see how this was going to play out. 

 “I don’t deserve to fail, and I think you know that.” She placed the paper down on the desk in front of him, her hand betraying a slight tremor despite the strength in her voice. “This was a good– no, great– paper.”

Loki regarded her with calculated indifference, allowing the silence to stretch between them for a moment. Power, after all, often resided in the spaces between words. “Hmm,” he finally murmured, glancing at the paper without picking it up, “and why do you think this paper does not deserve a failing grade?”

The question hung in the air, deceptively simple yet layered with challenge. He watched the emotions play across her face– indignation, frustration, determination. A charge of energy propelled through his veins, anticipating a battle.

“You know my paper was better than everyone else’s!,” Charlotte asserted, her voice rising slightly. 

Loki raised an eyebrow, his interest genuinely piqued now. “And why do you think that?” he asked, his voice cooling several degrees. “Do you think you’re special? Better than everyone else in the class?,” he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk as he looked up at her. 

“I–no–I just–,” she faltered. “I put everything into that paper.” The admission seemed to cost her something, a vulnerability she hadn’t intended to reveal. 

“Next time, do better,” he replied dismissively. 

“Is this because of what I said in the coffee shop?” The question burst from her lips, her eyes widening slightly as if surprised by her own boldness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” Loki lied smoothly, his face a perfect mask of polite confusion covering the fact that he was really enjoying this.

The lie hit its mark. Charlotte’s expression transformed, indignation flaring into something hotter, more dangerous. “Oh, I bet you do!!” she exclaimed, her voice raised. “And that’s why you’re being such an asshole! You just can’t stand that I talked to you like a normal human!!”

“Professor, I did extra research and you still failed me!” Charlotte continued, her words tumbling out faster now. “This is bullshit– you are wrong, and you KNOW IT!,” she pointed towards his chest aggressively.

Loki felt a wicked smile begin to curl at his lips. She really had an awful temper. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, marking seconds that stretched like minutes. His eyes narrowed as his gaze sharpened, focused entirely on the flushed, defiant woman before him. He rose from his chair, a slow and deliberate movement that emphasized his height, displaying the way he towered over her smaller frame. 

But something unexpected happened as he stood to his full height, looking down at Charlotte with her eyes bright with righteous fury, her chest rising and falling with quickened breath. A surge of arousal, sudden and unwelcome, coursed through his body.

Norns how he wanted to bend her over this desk and fuck her. The conflict within him mounted rapidly, a war between physical desire and professional obligation.

“You are on dangerous ground, Miss Baker,” his voice unwittingly lowered, to his dismay.

“I know this is just a game to you, but this is my career. My livelihood. You can’t do this to people. I studied my ass off, like I’ve done for my entire college career. I work hard, Professor,” her expression changed, sadder now. 

A weight settled in his chest, cooling the heat of his lust. Behind the anger in Charlotte’s eyes, he saw something that struck an unexpected chord within him– the desperate need to be seen, to be acknowledged. Guilt began to creep into his mind, the reality of the situation in front of him revealing that he’d gone too far. 

A regretful sigh escaped, as he slowly walked around the desk towards Charlotte. This was a mistake, he shouldn’t have done this.

“Perhaps I was unjust,” he admitted quietly, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. 

Charlotte’s expression changed, clearly startled by his sudden shift. The fire in her eyes didn’t dim, but confusion joined it, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Sit, Miss Baker,” he gestured to the nearest chair in front of him.

Sitting on the edge of his desk, he folded his arms and stretched his legs out in front of himself, ignoring the growing heat inside of him– he needed to be professional, act like the teacher he was expected to be. He caught Charlotte stealing a glance at his poised figure, her eyes tracing the line from his impeccably polished shoes up to his face.

“There are times that I forget that some of you students care, and that these grades may actually be important. I suggest that the two of us move on from how we initially met. It’s not doing either of us any favors. I will review your paper again with a different perspective,” he said calmly.

Charlotte said nothing, only looked into his eyes with an intensity he tried to ignore.

“In the future, I expect you to temper your rage, and attempt a less combative attitude in my classroom. That means no more calling me an asshole,” he smirked with familiarity.

“Yes, Professor,” Charlotte replied, glancing down at the desk top, obviously embarrassed by her behavior. 

“Truce?,” she asked playfully as she looked back into his eyes, warmth replacing her rage.

“Truce,” Loki replied, suppressing the carnal feelings that were brewing again.

He stood back up, walking back towards his bag as he prepared to leave. “Good afternoon, Miss Baker,” he dismissed her.

“Good afternoon, Professor. Thank you,” she smiled at him sincerely, and made her way out of the classroom. 

Loki swiftly walked through his foyer, and with a practiced flick, his keys spiraled through the air, landing with a clink on the mahogany side table. He had spent his whole drive home thinking about Charlotte. Here she was again, invading his thoughts with her beautiful eyes and that infuriating habit of challenging him when no one else dared. His guilt over their confrontation gnawed at him, but it paled in comparison to the more insistent throbbing in his pants. He was so hard. 

The house was silent around him, and he could almost hear the blood pulsing in his veins, each heartbeat punctuating the thoughts of her that danced provocatively through his thoughts. 

He quickly made his way to his bedroom, unbuckling his pants as he walked into the shadows. The dim light offered a sanctuary, and he relished in the darkness consuming his view. He laid down on his large bed with determination to relieve this pressure, this lewd ache that was inside of him.

She didn’t back down. She stood up to him and called him names in his classroom. She was fiery, and he liked it. While at first she merely irritated him, he now felt his whole body alight with something new, a flame ignited where only embers had smoldered for far too long. The way she had bent over and pointed her finger at him angrily had caused an involuntary shudder through him, and a wave of arousal he hadn’t expected.

“Once,” he whispered into the darkness, a promise or a plea, he wasn’t certain, as he released his pulsing cock from its confines, the cool air of the room kissing his heated skin. His hand appeared pale against his flushed girth, the head engorged and glistening, begging for attention. His thumb moved in slow, deliberate circles over the swollen tip, causing his hips to buck with each touch, and a moan slipped out as he gave in to his own desperation.

Would it be so bad if he slept with her? 

You can’t fuck the students. They explicitly told you that when you were in training. 

Loki chuckled to himself as his length throbbed, the rebellion itself an aphrodisiac. Of course he’d be attracted to a student.This was simultaneously the best and worst thing that could happen. A temptation, a change in this monotonous life. The hunger within him stirred, a restless beast prowling the confines of his soul. It was desire, pure and unadulterated, mingled with the tang of danger. 

Oh this is bad, he thought to himself as he spit in his hand, smothering his cock in it while he rhythmically pumped himself. His eyes closed as he thought about Charlotte.

She wanted him– he could smell it on her during their confrontation. The heady scent of her arousal that lingered was etched in his memory, driving his urge to fuck. 

If they were to get caught, he could be fired. His cock twitched again at the thrill of a secret affair. That could be so fun. 

Loki’s mind flashed with images of how he’d make her suck his cock in his office. She’d beg to choke on him while he pulled her hair and cursed above her. The very idea made his heart pound faster with a feral excitement. The vision crystalized in his mind’s eye– Charlotte on her knees, her pouty pink lips wrapped around him…

His breathing grew more labored as his hand worked faster, the wet sounds of his self-pleasure obscenely loud in the quiet bedroom. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, dampening the roots of his silken hair. His body heat was trapped in his Armani suit, the temperature around him seeming to rise every minute. 

Loki’s eyes screwed tighter, his mental visions of the ways he’d want to fuck Charlotte vibrant in his mind. Gripping his free hand in his expensive sheets, he lost himself to his lurid fantasy, panting like a wild beast. 

He would show his student who’s in charge, and she would comply. She’d beg him to tell her what to do. She could be his secret plaything. No one would know. The power he would have over her aroused Loki in ways that hadn’t been felt in a long time. She was so defiant, and he wanted to fuck that out of her. A challenge. 

The idea of her, so strong-willed and resistant, bending to his command stirred something inside of him. “You’ll learn,” he puffed through gritted teeth, “what it means to yield.”

Loki’s hand moved faster now, his control beginning to slip as his pleasure mounted. The tight coil in his abdomen wound even tighter, while his cock throbbed in his hand, hot and heavy and demanding. 

Loki thought of fucking her on his office desk, her clothes ripped from her body as he pounded into her from above. She’d cry out in ecstasy as he plunged himself fiercely inside of her. Her legs would wrap around him, pulling him deeper in her tight cunt, craving every hot inch of him as he claimed her with each forceful thrust. She would no longer be just a defiant student who challenged him; she’d be his vessel of pleasure, begging for release, begging for him. She’d scream his name like a little whore just for him. 

“You’ll take what I give you…”, he growled to himself in the dark, his thighs tensing. His abs clenched as his hips bucked in time with the pumping of his thick cock, swollen and seeping precum, desperate for release. The pressure began to build as his balls tightened, and he knew he was going to come soon. 

Loki’s breath came in short, sharp pants now, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweat droplets gathered in the hollow of his throat before sliding down his clothed chest. His hand moved faster, the rhythm becoming erratic as his control slipped away. Every muscle in his body seemed to contract at once, poised for the moment of release as his back arched. His cock throbbed painfully in his hand, so engorged and sensitive that each stroke was both pleasure and torment.

And he would come all over her– coat her in his seed. His warm cum would drip all over her naked body as she panted and begged him for more. She’d be marked as his. Only for him to fuck and take his frustrations out on whenever he wanted. 

In the fog of pleasure, he felt every synapse in his body fire at once. Loki’s body went rigid, his hand tightening around his cock in a punishing grip as a sudden eruption of pleasure burst throughout his body. A feral groan ripped through his chest as he felt a powerful orgasm rip through him. 

"FUUCK–," he gasped, surprised at how quickly he came. 

With each new spasm, another surge of cum burst from him, dripping down his tense hand. He rode the crest of his orgasm with wild abandon, milking the pulses for every last drop until the desire faded to a lingering, throbbing ache. 

Loki was left panting, chest heaving as he tried to suck air back into his lungs. For several seconds, he simply laid there– spent, sticky, and gloriously empty, his hand still loosely wrapped around the softening length of his cock. 

As his breathing slowed, he looked down at the cum splattered on his finely tailored clothes. He’d made a mess of himself. 

His eyes closed as he laid there for a few moments, curious to see if his cravings had been satisfied. Even in his afterglow, he still wanted her. Craved to defile her. 

This is definitely not ideal, he thought to himself. 

For the first time in what felt like ages, the former god of mischief felt a flutter of a spark. Excitement. Danger. The thrill of the forbidden sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn’t help but entertain the thought: is this what his restlessness craved? 

-> Chapter 6 - Jul 18

LYHOM Masterlist

LYHOM Spotify Playlists

Buy me a coffee 💚

[the-devils-diaryy]

The Mukamis’ Jazz Cabbage 🌬️

Yuma grows weed. I know he does. I am positive of this. You cannot tell me Yuma Mukami the edgy vampire gardener has been alive for god knows however many hundred long years and has never tried his hand at pot at any point. I simply don’t believe it.

More of my theories about this:

💚 Yuma makes his own strains. He has several perfected blends that are dank af. He has also cultivated weed from the Demon World, which is stronger and also produces a mild hallucinogenic effect when consumed.

💚 Ruki rolls the best joints. Kou rolls the worst.

💚 Perhaps surprisingly, Azusa has the highest tolerance. He’s a heavyweight and can out smoke you all. Consequently he consumes enough THC to kill a small animal. Why do you think he talks like that lmao

💚 Azusa loves when the weed burns his throat.

💚 Ruki strikes me as a wine with weed kind of guy.

💚 Kou paid Reiji an undisclosed amount of money to concoct a THC cleanse that will allow him to pass drug tests for his job.

💚 They ordered takeout one time after getting blasted and Kou accidentally ate his fortune with his cookie.

💚 Another time they got baked and watched Cats (2019). Azusa got so scared he started crying and that made Yuma cry. They were inconsolable and could not finish the movie.

💚 Ruki is pretty level headed when he is high but he has indeed come back from the kitchen with an empty plate and left his sandwich in the cupboard. He was unable to find it again until the next day.

💚 Yuma once instructed them all to check out this anime and then they all stared at a repeating gif for 30 minutes.

💚 Once it stormed during one of their blunt rotations. The thunder was very loud and noisy, which prompted Kou to start banging a spatula on a pot to “help it rain better.”

💚 Yuma once had a heartfelt, life changing conversation with a caterpillar on the sidewalk.

💚 Azusa once saw a fifth person in the room. He was quite taken aback, and puzzled about it for a moment before concluding that it must be an adopted fifth brother that they had never told him about. He immediately confronted the rest of them for keeping such a monumental secret from him for all this time. The rest of them were very confused and could not find this mysterious fifth brother until Azusa pointed at the mirror he was looking at.

💚 They have prank called the Sakamakis multiple times. They once fully convinced Ayato that they were Shuu’s doctors and that he was tragically going to die of “kidney beans.”

💚 Ruki once gave an hour and a half long dissertation about why Godzilla is actually an insurance scammer.

💚 Kou once convinced himself that a cat hanging out in the driveway was a spy for the Yakuza and spent two hours trying to catch it. He set up an upside down box with food in it and a string to catch the little spy. He wanted to tempt it with some salmon, but they didn’t have any so he just grabbed the first thing in the pantry and used a bag of Doritos. Then eventually he got hungry and gave up the mission and ate the Doritos himself before falling asleep on the lawn.

💚 Azusa was high at the store and saw this plushie that he thought was so cute he was almost moved to tears. He knew he needed to bring it home so it would not be lonely anymore. He tried to convince his brothers that they needed to buy it but they weren’t having it, so Azusa just hid it in his sweater and stole it. Its name is Snoop. (Azusa is a big fan.)

💚 They forgot they ordered food and left the small young delivery driver outside the door, yelling obscenities at him from inside because they thought he was Kanato.

💚 Ayato, Shuu, and Subaru definitely buy weed from Yuma. Reiji hates it.

* The Mukamis occasionally buy cocaine from Laito. He is definitely a hookers and blow kind of guy. Kou has absolutely gone on stage coked up like a rockstar.

* Building upon this, the very worst day at the Sakamaki household was undoubtedly the day Kanato mistook Laito’s coke bag for powdered sugar.

* Shuu dabbles in lean and xans for sleepy boi purposes and has shared them with Yuma a few times.

💚 The scariest experience the Mukami brothers have ever had since becoming vampires was the time they got high and then found out Karlheinz was coming over.

💚 Recall my theories about Yuma’s pickup truck that he has for his garden. Recall that I said he outran a cop before. He ran knowing he had a stash on him.

💚 Favorite strains:

* Ruki: Jack Herer

* Kou: Super Boof

* Yuma: Durban Poison

* Azusa: Wedding Cake

💚 I was stoned the entire time I drew this image and wrote this post.

What do y’all think they do when they’re high?

[eretzyisrael]

Every week we are reading about professions that are pushing out Zionist Jews from their fields.

In the field of international law:

...The professor saw a trend among the topics Israeli and Jewish colleagues were pushed to pursue. Those who continued their academic work in international law either wrote about Palestinians as victims or Israel’s violations of humanitarian international law. “Israelis would either write about IP law or business law, or about how Israel is being awful, violating human rights and all of that.”

This stood out because the professor noticed their colleagues from Latin America and China weren’t expected to work on topics that criticize their home countries as a condition for receiving faculty support. Yet when it came to Israelis, it was “clear to us this is what we need to deliver on.”

In the professor’s discussions with the senior faculty, especially the progressive liberal Jewish faculty, it came through clearly that support for Israeli students was conditioned on being the right type of Israeli, “and there were fellowships and scholarships and grants available to students who are willing to do that. In Hebrew we say that a person knows which side of the bread is buttered, right? So it’s pretty clear what pays off is to distance yourself from a mainstream Israeli kind of discourse.”

Understanding who holds the power and influences decisions is important in any profession, the law included. “You need to have the support and the mentors to advance in your career,” the professor explained, “and for that, you look for cues on what should I do, how do I make these people like me. Why would you bother, why would you take the risk of saying something that is controversial or put yourself in the position of protecting Israel or speaking on behalf of Israel when there is only a price to pay for that?”

“For example, there is an institute that gives out scholarships to doctoral students who are writing dissertations about Israel. I was advised not to take their money because then it’s going to be on my CV and people will interpret that as if I don’t have the right kind of politics. So even when there are economic incentives to write different kinds of scholarship,” under the current academic incentives, the professor concludes, scholarships and point-interventions will not work “because it’s more about selection and authority and networks and connections and less about economic incentives.”

Mental health professionals:

The anti-Zionist blacklist is the most extreme example of an anti-Israel wave that has swept the mental health field since the Oct. 7 Hamas terror attacks and the resulting war in Gaza, which has seen the deaths of thousands of Palestinian civilians. More than a dozen Jewish therapists from across the country who spoke to Jewish Insider described a profession ostensibly rooted in compassion, understanding and sensitivity that has too often dropped those values when it comes to Jewish and Israeli providers and clients.

At best, these therapists say their field has been willing to turn a blind eye to the antisemitism that they think is too rampant to avoid. At worst, they worry the mental health profession is becoming inhospitable to Jewish practitioners whose support for Israel puts them outside the prevailing progressive views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Authors:

Over the past several months, a litmus test has emerged across wide swaths of the literary world effectively excluding Jews from full participation unless they denounce Israel. This phenomenon has been unfolding in progressive spaces (academia, politics, cultural organizations) for quite some time. That it has now hit the rarefied, highbrow realm of publishing — where Jewish Americans have made enormous contributions and the vitality of which depends on intellectual pluralism and free expression — is particularly alarming.

It feels like history is repeating itself.

Jews founded the Jews' Hospital in New York in 1855, now known as Mount Sinai Hospital, partially as a response to the need for a place that Jews could be treated without feeling like outsiders, as every other hospital at the time was aligned with various Christian groups. It followed the founding in 1850 of the Jewish Hospital in Cincinnati. When Mount Moriah Hospital Mount Moriah Hospital opened in New York in 1908, the Forward reported that Jews "can open the door and enter as if to your own home without a racing heart and without fear."

Brandeis University was founded in 1948 "at a time when Jews and other ethnic and racial minorities, and women, faced discrimination in higher education."

Jews who were facing discrimination formed professional associations and schools in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, for physicians, scientists, and trades, like the Hebrew Technical Institute in New York and the Kehillah which attempted to be an umbrella of professional and educational associations in New York (and that the antisemite Henry Ford railed against.)

It appears that it is time for Jews in the professions where they are being blacklisted must start to form Jewish professional organizations, educational networks and institutions anew, where Jews can network and publish as they want without having to please the "progressive" crowds.

But the arc of history is going backwards, and this is only a Band-Aid. The problem is with America and the world itself, and Jews cannot solve this problem alone - the dangers of the progressive bigots are a threat to the free world and that needs to be addressed at the macro level.

[gunsandspaceships]

Many degrees of Doctor Stark

It is widely known that 616 Tony has several doctorates. The number varies from 3 to 7, but it doesn't really matter whether he is 300 or 700% Doctor. He is one. And he doesn’t use his title 99.999% of the time.

Ok, but what about the MCU?

It is never mentioned whether Tony has a PhD or even a master's degree. Kinda weird. Both the absence of mentions and lack of degrees, since Tony is so smart and productive.

Let’s check, maybe he actually has some.

Here we have a file from a deleted scene from The Avengers (2012):

As we can see, the work is sloppy – there are inaccuracies in his hair color (it’s not black, it’s brown), and the fact that he speaks French was not included. Can we rely on this paper? Let’s not 100%, but we can still use things that don't contradict the movies.

The fact that he received his BS in Engineering from MIT does not contradict this, so we can mark it as valid. He started in 1984 when he was 14 years old and graduated in 1987 when he was 17.

We see no further education in the file. But we know something that this file doesn’t. We watched the movies.

Remember, in Civil War at 0:13:25, in the scene where Tony sees his parents for the last time, Maria tells Howard, “Be nice, dear, he’s been studying abroad”. Tony is 21 here, this is December 16, 1991. Looks like he is on winter break.

But wait… Didn’t he graduate in 1987 and stop then? Well, Maria tells us he continued.

Between 17 and 21 there are 4 years. What could he have done in these 4 years? A lot, right? He is smart and productive, we know that. A master’s degree usually takes 2 years. Tony could earn it in 1. 1 or 2, we still have 2-3 years that we need to fill with some kind of studying. I doubt he just went back and got another bachelor's or master's. That said, he was working on his PhD.

We don't know where. “Abroad” is a very broad concept. Maybe he went to Europe to study at Oxford? We do not know. Perhaps he stayed at MIT and just went somewhere else for the fall semester. We do not know. But he did go somewhere for (most probably) a PhD.

The question is: did he finish it?

Well, his parents died in Dec 1991, and we know from the first Iron Man (0:04:50) that Stane was the interim president of Stark Industries from that date until 1992. Most likely, Tony became CEO before his birthday, that is, May 29, which corresponds to the stated age of 21. He had a few months between.

We don’t know where he was in his degree at that time. But we know he is smart and productive. He doesn’t need 4 years to write a dissertation.

So, there are 2 options:

1) He did not complete his doctorate and devoted himself entirely to the company;

2) He completed it in the few months he had and then took over the company.

Here’s the evidence for the second option:

“Confusing matters more, a recently deleted LinkedIn profile for Tony Stark indicated he received doctorates in engineering physics and artificial intelligence.”

Source: https://alum.mit.edu/slice/who-iron-man

Given all the information and analysis we have, as well as a little logic, we can conclude that Tony has a Ph.D. Even two. He had time to do them. Why doesn't he use his title? Well, maybe for the same reason 616 Tony doesn’t? He doesn’t usually brag. Check out this post if you have any doubts about my statement.

Here are some additional hints:

He gave lectures at scientific conferences (IM1 and IM3 - Bern 1999).

His scientific expertise was not limited to engineering and his company's affairs (all the movies, but specifically I can point you to IM3– the scene with Maya Hansen and her Extremis-enhanced plants in Bern).

“He must have graduated after 1990, because the '90 Brass rat was the first one with the skyline on the edge.” MIT alumni commentary https://alum.mit.edu/slice/who-iron-man

Conclusion (actual): call him Doctor Stark, guys, he deserves it. Despite his modesty about his scientific achievements, Dr Stark has a couple of master's degrees and at least two PhD degrees in the MCU - in engineering physics and artificial intelligence.

[theposhsworld]

❤️ The value of the educated, smart, and strategic woman…

In a recent post, I commented that no matter what bubble gum femininity coaches say, women who marry into the elite are smart, strategic, and educated.

So let me dive into that.

Bubble gum femininity argues that…

😠 In order to find an active, successful, and strong man, you have to be passive, confused, and certainly not goal-oriented.

😠 Smart, successful women intimidate successful men.

😠 You cannot possibly be good at something, driven, and successful at that thing, whether that’s being a business women running her online company or an expert in a field, unless you want to attract a loser.

To sun up, you have to be a loser to attract a successful (alpha!) man.

Ha!

So that got me thinking. In my former #womentolearnfrom series, we saw how it was the super smart and strategic women that made a difference and married their matches.

Cleopatra and Livia Drusilla, both of whom were renowned for their strategic minds and ability to use soft power to exercise political influence, seduced the three most prominent figures in ancient history, Julius Caesar, Marc Anthony, and Emperor Augustus, through their ability to support them on the way to power and use their wits to consolidate that power.

I’m doing extensive research about the rise of the Medici family for my dissertation. Guess what I found in an old letter?

✍️ The patriarch of the family, Cosimo de’ Medici, praised his son’s wife, Lucrezia Tornabuoni, for “being the only man in the family” when she stepped up at a time when both her husband and father in law were beset with gout. So he valued her not just because she provided their children with the best tutors and best education, but also because she could hold up the front when crises occurred.

(Side note: if you read her letters to the male members of the family, she gives her opinion very, very subtly; then, she always concludes with “I trust you know best” or something along those lines).

Later, Cosimo’s grandson, Lorenzo the Magnificent, who was known for his deep interest in philosophy, literature, politics, and poetry, didn’t even bother seduce his wife; he deemed her intellectually lacking. Even though she had all the resources available, she didn’t try to learn and challenge herself with new models of thought, which made her boring in her husband’s eyes. So he kept a mistress who read philosophy and allowed him to grow as an intellectual.

Well, if at a time when women typically had no rights per pe, but these ladies were valued for their strategic mind and intelligence, how can one say that 21st century women should not be smart, well-read, strategic, etc?

Because if we were to look at women we aspire to be like — Amal Clooney, Melania Trump, Queen Letizia — it won’t take us long to discover they are extremely Street smart and strategic. Most are very well educated, too, even if that means being self-taught.

Meanwhile, stunning models who marry up but don’t invest into inner work and education, have a hard time staying married. Think about Kendra Spears.

So bubble gum girls are worst off. Then, the ones who marry well but don’t know how to develop themselves. And, finally, there are the Cleopatra types.

Now, there are some movies who illustrate that. Of course, there are historical exaggerations and all, but I guarantee they will give you food for thought when it comes to feminine intelligence.

Look for the smart, strategic women who is the actual femme fatale of these films.

🎥 Domina, 2021

🎥 Dangerous Beauty, 1998

🎥 Casino Royale, 2006

🎥 La Riffa, 1991

🎥 Cleopatra, 1963

I hope you enjoy!

P.S. please share your thoughts. Do you think intelligent women are that intimidating or are the the biggest turn-on there is — for partners and friends alike?

[mariacallous]

Seven years ago, Pauline Shanks Kaurin left a good job as a tenured professor at a university, uprooted her family, and moved across the country to teach military ethics at the Naval War College, in Newport, Rhode Island. She did so, she told me, not only to help educate American military officers, but with a promise from the institution that she would have “the academic freedom to do my job.” But now she’s leaving her position and the institution because orders from President Donald Trump and Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, she said, have made staying both morally and practically untenable. Remaining on the faculty, she believes, would mean implicitly lending her approval to policies she cannot support. And she said that the kind of teaching and research the Navy once hired her to do will now be impossible.

The Naval War College is one of many institutions—along with the Army War College, the Air War College, and others—that provide graduate-level instruction in national-security issues and award master’s degrees to the men and women of the U.S. armed forces. The Naval War College is also home to a widely respected civilian academic post, the James B. Stockdale Chair in Professional Military Ethics, named for the famous admiral and American prisoner of war in Vietnam. Pauline has held the Stockdale Chair since 2018. (I taught for many years at the Naval War College, where I knew Pauline as a colleague.) Her last day will be at the end of this month.

In January, Trump issued an executive order, Restoring America’s Fighting Force, that prohibits the Department of Defense and the entire armed forces from “promoting, advancing, or otherwise inculcating the following un-American, divisive, discriminatory, radical, extremist, and irrational theories,” such as “gender ideology,” “race or sex stereotyping,” and, of course, anything to do with DEI. Given the potential breadth of the order, the military quickly engaged in a panicky slash-and-burn approach rather than risk running afoul of the new ideological line. The U.S. Military Academy at West Point, in New York, for example, disbanded several clubs, including the local chapter of the National Society of Black Engineers. Other military installations, apparently anticipating a wider crackdown on anything to do with race or gender, removed important pages of American history about women and minorities from their websites.

All of this was done by bureaucrats and administrators as they tried to comply with Trump’s vague order, banning and erasing anything that the president and Hegseth might construe as even remotely related to DEI or other banned concepts. Some Defense Department workers “deemed to be affiliated with DEI programs or activities” were warned that Trump’s orders “required” their jobs to be eliminated. Many professors at military institutions began to see signs that they might soon be prohibited from researching and publishing in their fields of study.

At first, Pauline was cautious. She knew that her work in the field of military ethics could be controversial—particularly on the issues of oaths and obedience. In the military, where discipline and the chain of command rule daily life, investigating the meaning of oath-taking and obedience is a necessary but touchy exercise. The military is sworn to obey all legal orders, but when that obedience becomes absolute, the results can be ghastly: Pauline wrote her doctoral dissertation at Temple University on oaths, obedience, and the 1969 My Lai massacre in Vietnam, in which a young U.S. officer and his men believed that their orders allowed them to slay hundreds of unarmed civilians. For more than 20 years, she taught these matters in the philosophy department at Pacific Lutheran University, and once at Newport, she wrote a book on the contrasting notions of obedience in military and civilian life.

When the Trump order came down, Pauline told me that Naval War College administrators gave her “vague assurances” that the college would not interfere with ongoing work by her or other faculty, or with academic freedom in general. But one day, shortly after the executive order in January, she was walking through the main lobby, which proudly features display cases with books by the faculty, and she noticed that a volume on LGBTQ issues in the military had vanished. The disappearance of that book led Pauline to seek more clarity from the college’s administration about nonpartisanship, and especially about academic freedom.

Academic freedom is an often-misunderstood term. Many people outside academia encounter the idea only when some professor abuses the concept as a license to be an offensive jerk. (A famous case many years ago involved a Colorado professor who compared the victims of 9/11 to Nazis who deserved what they got.) Like tenure, however, academic freedom serves crucial educational purposes, protecting controversial research and encouraging the free exchange of even the most unpopular ideas without fear of political pressure or interference. It is essential to any serious educational institution, and necessary to a healthy democracy.

Professors who teach for the military, as I did for many years, do have to abide by some restrictions not found in civilian schools. They have a duty, as sworn federal employees, to protect classified information. They may not use academic freedom to disrupt government operations. (Leading a protest that would prevent other government workers from getting to their duty stations might be one example.) And, of course, they must refrain from violating the Hatch Act: They cannot use government time or resources to engage in partisan political activity. But they otherwise have—or are supposed to have—the same freedoms as their colleagues in civilian institutions.

Soon, however, jumpy military bureaucrats started tossing books and backing out of conferences. Pauline became more concerned. Newport’s senior administrators began to send informal signals that included, as she put it, the warning that “academic freedom as many of us understood it was not a thing anymore.” Based on those messages, Pauline came to believe that her and other faculty members’ freedom to comment publicly on national issues and choose research topics without institutional interference was soon to be restricted.

During an all-hands meeting with senior college leaders in February, Pauline said that she and other Naval War College faculty were told that the college would comply with Hegseth’s directives and that, in Pauline’s words, “if we were thinking we had academic freedom in our scholarship and in the classroom, we were mistaken.” (Other faculty present at the meeting confirmed to me that they interpreted the message from the college’s leadership the same way; one of them later told me that the implication was that the Defense Department could now rule any subject out of bounds for classroom discussion or scholarly research at will.) Pauline said there were audible gasps in the room, and such visible anger that it seemed to her that even the administrators hosting the meeting were taken aback. “I’ve been in academia for 31 years,” she told me, and that gathering “was the most horrifying meeting I’ve ever been a part of.”

I contacted the college’s provost, Stephen Mariano, who told me in an email that these issues were “nuanced” but that the college had not changed its policies on academic freedom. (He also denied any changes relating to tenure, a practice predicated on academic freedom.) At the same time, he added, the college is “complying with all directives issued by the President and Department of Defense and following Department of the Navy policy.” This language leaves Pauline and other civilian faculty at America’s military schools facing a paradox: They are told that academic freedom still exists, but that their institutions are following directives from Hegseth that, at least on their face, seem aimed at ending academic freedom.

In March, Pauline again sought clarity from college leaders. They were clearly anxious to appear compliant with the new political line. (“We don’t want to end up on Fox News,” she said one administrator told her.) She was told her work was valued, but she didn’t believe it. “Talk is cheap,” she said. “Actions matter.” She said she asked the provost point-blank: What if a faculty member has a book or an article coming out on some controversial topic? His answer, according to her: Hypothetically, they might consider pulling the work from publication. (Mariano denies saying this and told me that there is no change in college policy on faculty publication.)

Every government employee knows the bureaucratic importance of putting things on paper. Pauline’s current project is about the concept of honor, which necessarily involves questions regarding masculinity and gender—issues that could turn the DOD’s new McCarthyites toward her and her work. So she now proposed that she and the college administration work up a new contract, laying out more clearly—in writing—what the limits on her work and academic freedom would look like.

She might as well have asked for a pony. Administrators, she said, told her that they hoped she wouldn’t resign, but that no one was going to put anything in writing. “The upshot,” according to her, was a message from the administration that boiled down to: We hope you can just suck it up and not need your integrity for your final year as the ethics chair.

After that, she told me, her choices were clear. “As they say in the military: Salute and execute—or resign.” Until then, she had “hoped maybe people would still come to their senses.” The promises of seven years ago were gone; the institution now apparently expected her and other faculty to self-censor in the classroom and preemptively bowdlerize their own research. “I don’t do DEI work,” she said, “but I do moral philosophy, and now I can’t do it. I’d have to take out discussions of race and gender and not do philosophy as I think it should be done.” In April, she submitted a formal letter of resignation.

Initially, she had no interest in saying anything publicly. Pauline is a native Montanan and single mom of two, and by nature not the type of person to engage in public food fights. (She used to joke with me when we were colleagues that I was the college’s resident lightning rod, and she had no interest in taking over that job.) She’s a philosopher who admires quiet stoicism, and she was resolved to employ it in her final months.

But she also thought about what she owed her chair’s namesake. “Stockdale thought philosophy was important for officers. The Stockdale course was created so that officers would wrestle with moral obligations. He was a personal model of integrity.” Even so, she did not try to invoke him as a patron saint when she decided to resign. “I’m not saying he would agree with the choice that I made,” she told me. “But his model of moral integrity is part of the chair.”

She kept her resignation private until early May, when a professor at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, Graham Parsons—another scholar who teaches ethics in a military school, and a friend of Pauline’s—likewise decided to resign in protest and said that he would leave West Point after 13 years. Hegseth’s changes “prevent me from doing my job responsibly,” he wrote in The New York Times. “I am ashamed to be associated with the academy in its current form.” Hegseth responded on X, sounding more like a smug internet troll than a concerned superior: “You will not be missed Professor Parsons.” The episode changed Pauline’s mind. She felt she owed her friends and colleagues whatever public support and solidarity she could offer them.

Nor are she and Parsons alone. Tom McCarthy, a professor at the U.S. Naval Academy, in Annapolis, Maryland, recently resigned as chair of the history department rather than remove a paper from an upcoming symposium. And last month, a senior scholar at the Army War College, in Pennsylvania, Carrie Lee, also handed in her resignation, a decision she announced to her friends and followers on Bluesky.

Lee told me in an email that she’d been thinking of leaving after Trump was elected, because it was apparent to her that the Trump administration was “going to try and politicize the military and use military assets/personnel to suppress democratic rights,” and that academic freedom in military schools was soon to “become untenable.” Like Pauline, Lee felt like she was at a dead end: “To speak from within the institution itself will also do more harm than good. So to dissent, I have little choice but to leave,” she said in a farewell letter to her colleagues in April.

I asked Pauline what she thinks might have happened if she had decided to stay and just tough it out from the inside. She “absolutely” thinks she’d have been fired at some point, and she didn’t want such a firing “to be part of the legacy of the Stockdale Chair.” But then I asked her if by resigning, she was giving people in the Trump administration, such as Office of Management and Budget Director Russell Vought—who once said that his goal was to make federal workers feel “trauma” to the point where they will quit their jobs—exactly what they want: Americans leaving federal service.

She didn’t care. “When you make a moral decision, there are always costs.” She dismissed what people like Vought want or think. “I’m not accountable to him. I’m accountable to the Lord, to my father, to my legacy, to my children, to my profession, to members of the military-ethics community. So I decided that I needed to resign. Not that it would change anyone’s mind, but to say: This is not okay. That is my message.”

At the end of our discussion, I asked an uncomfortable question I’d been avoiding. Pauline, I know, is only in her mid-50s, in mid-career, and too young simply to retire. She has raised two sons who will soon enter young adulthood. I asked her if she was worried about her future.

“Sure,” she said. “But at the end of the day, as we say in Montana, sometimes you just have to saddle up and ride scared.”

[arcturus-night-star]

Neville's essay??? 👀

It's a complementary piece to 'EWE Dark Lords'. It's Neville's dissertation on sentient plants and shaping them to function as mobility aids, since he's losing his ability to walk and eventually move his hands properly due to Multiple Sclerosis.

2.0 Overview of Ordinary Networks

2.1 Mycelium experiments

Muggles, in this case, have done much more research in this area than any wix as far as I've searched for it may be as they perceive nature in a different light than us. Whichever the case, I have replicated one of their experiments originally performed by Professor Houba of applying sensors to several parts of it and stimulating them with an electric shock using muggle contraptrions known as "batteries". The entirety of the experiment was conducted in three parts on three different locations; two muggle laboratories in Brighton and London and the Unspeakable Research Compound.

The London experiment was my usual approach of uncovering parts of the mycelieum and operate entirely as a muggle scientist for the three days I performed the experiment on different samples. My results were similar enough to Prof. Houba's that I felt comfortable to conclude my magical presence and carrying a wand had no effect on the experiment and that I was performing it correctly. For extra measure I attempted to cast a weak electrification curse at one of the samples and it withered under my wand.

To be entirely certain of that, I had elected to go into muggle isolation and relinquished my wand for a month, before repeating the experiments in the Brighton lab. The results were within the acceptable sample variation to confirm that short lived exposure to magical signature is negligible.

The third experiment within the Unspeakable Research Compound (URC) has shown that long term exposure to magic inevitably interferes with any living organism. The samples were much more responsive to stimulation and when I cast the Electrification Curse again, they lit up, seemingly thriving.

I have left one of the samples within the URC to assess further effects of magical exposure.

[atticsandwich]

SPOILERS FOR THE NEWER LESSONS IN NIGHTBRINGER - careful fellow followers of this blog <3

i love the current lessons so much actually because there is honestly so much underlying angst / potential for it! i doubt the devs will go that deeply into that direction and i don’t think it would translate well within the game anyway but just imagine mc getting more and more concerned about their own powers that also shape their relationship with everyone else… sure everyone loves mc but dia/barb and solomon have entire realms to protect and therefore wish to have mc on their side if push comes to shove (which has been a recurring topic in nb)… mc getting increasingly insecure / afraid that they’ll be seen as a tool / weapon first instead of a friend… i mean especially after being used as bait??? solomon showing his shady side again??? AAAH!!! THINK OF ALL THE POSSIBILITIES!!!

Yes yes YESSSS

also i love that we're given the option to be mad that the people mc loves are being used as "bait" to draw out their power. obey me has been very passive about how mc responds to situations sometimes that them being mad is a great thing!!

re: angst, yeah, i get you, they haven't really hit the mark on really leaning into angst yet, and although i doubt they'll hit this one, i still have high hopes about how it's going to conclude or how they'll handle the situation (the fact that they got teleported to babel + michael's texts to simeon makes me think raphael is FINALLY going to burst and let out all the emotions he's been bottling for literal millenia)

SPEAKING OF RAPHAEL. again, i love that tlhe's the side character focus on a season with the underlying fact of simeon's transformation to a demon - his reactions and avoidance of the situation, even though he's already made aware of it by michael, coupled with the fact that he still has hidden guilt over what happened during the celestial war....... MANNNNN IM SOO EXCITED FOR RAPHAEL DEVELOPMENT AND EXPOSITION..... hopefully this means mephisto and thirteen will also have their own time in the spotlight soon regarding glimpses of their backstories and developing realtionship with the cast (and mc in particular)

ON A SIDE NOTE. anyone else catch how barb reacts after solomon and mc chooses to keep the reason for mc's growing power a secret??? yeahhhhh he defo knows. dude raised solomon and is the demon of time, of course he'd know. knowing him, he probably just wants to see how it plays out, considering he's powerful enough to mitigate any real catastrophe from actually happening (hellooo he was literally contingency plan number 1 from the sf final) love the thought of him just going. heh. this'll be fun to watch :>

ANYWAYSSSSSS im gonna stop yapping now thank u for asking anon and for anyone reading my thoughts. granted i know a lot of these are very tip of the iceberg but i would rather not do a full dissertation on tumblr. knock knock tumblr staff can u add voice notes. no relation to me wanting to yap whatsoever................) (<- says the guy who made and posted an essay about celestial realm parallels to irl catholicism and power structure. WHATEVER!!!!!)

[correlatedcontents]

Hi! I played your game 'my father's long, long legs' today and I thought it was great! I'm exploring twine currently for my master's dissertation and i was wondering if you could explain how you got the flashlight effect with the mouse? it was a gorgeous touch and made the whole thing super atmospheric. Thanks :)

thanks so much for playing! i'm glad you liked it. the flashlight effect is javascript: the player's cursor is replaced with a static image of a flashlight beam and the background of the window is set to black, so the overall effect is of a flashlight tracking across a dark space. then the game's text and the concluding images are also black (the legs are outline only, a transparent png), so when the cursor moves over them the flashlight image seems to "illuminate" them (when in fact it is just putting a white background behind them to make them visible). good luck with the dissertation!

[olderthannetfic]

The main problem that I have with Youtubers who attempt to approach media analysis and fandom through theory and academia is that the vast majority aren't academics. Just being in undergrad isn't actually enough, contrary to the thoughts of many. Reading a Wikipedia article and reiterating what one may find in some Google, even Google Scholar, searches. Ideally, these would be topics approached by people involved in academia as a profession, people with doctoral degrees, who can discuss complex topics in a way that is easily understood by the masses. "What is the negotiation between gender and sex in BL?" "How does CMBYN articulate/complicate hierarchal roles within the gay novel?" "Could SnK express an alternative reading of the formerly isolated Japan?" These are complicated questions they attempt to answer in their video essays when they seldom ever understand the theories they employ.

Yes, I understand this can sound elitist, but as a Black afab person who is currently in a doctoral program for literature, there aren't "easy" answers to any of the questions they attempt to pose, and many Youtubers who primarily make long-form video essays lack the life experience and expertise to sufficiently discuss anything. They're usually too set in their thoughts to answer or explore the broader implications of their claims. Defending a dissertation forces you to do this. Forming a committee of experts in various fields and convincing them to aid you in the development of your dissertation forces you to do this. Being in academic and cordial communication with your peers from all over the world in your field forces you to do this. It's not easy to constantly intake new information from various eras and nations (depending on your topic), meld this information into a coherent essay, and continually make edits as you learn new information, thus changing your outlook on things. Also: it's really petty of me, but it's also incredibly annoying to grade poorly researched undergrad essays who, after some prompting in office hours, say they got these ideas on books, movies, and shows from breadtubers like Somerton, SZ, FD Signifier, or hbomberguy. Cue: me going to watch their videos and realizing they have no idea what they're talking about 88% of the time in terms of theory and application of said theory. Even the ones who frame themselves on being educators in real life, like Signifier, lack any nuance, depth, or media literacy to make a compelling argument if you know even the slightest bit of information. On the bright side, I now know why I've encountered several students with ideologies that are basically conservatism with a veneer of progressivism, or "conservatism in a queer hat."

This concludes my long-winded way of saying "Don't turn to Youtubers for media analysis. You're better off just reading articles by people who have to actually know what they're talking about. The majority of Youtubers (especially the breadtubers) don't have the bandwidth to discuss anything more complex than an episode of Blue's Clues."

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I mostly agree, but I'd point to a slightly different problem. I'm hesitant to say that the PhD itself is the deciding factor, but I do think a lot of video essayists are insufficiently prepared.

I'm a big fan of Folding Ideas who does have some formal schooling in film, but I don't think it's that education per se that makes him great. He sets himself apart from other video essayists by actually doing his research and having an in-depth approach to his subjects. He doesn't resort to clickbait, and—here's the key—he often takes months or even a year to work on something.

Honestly, I think that's a big part of it: the hoops most youtubers who want to make a living at it have to jump through involve a lot of clickbait and pandering and a fast production schedule. They don't involve reputable peer review except by the court of shriek-y public opinion on twitter.

They'd like to present themselves as documentary filmmaking (which is essentially what Folding Ideas' longer videos are), but they don't actually live up to any of the usual standards of that either.

I think it can be elitist to say that someone needs to have certain letters after their name, yes, but what really strikes me about your average youtube media analysis type and the fanbase is that they want shortcuts.

Exploring the whole history of the gay novel so that you have enough background to talk about CMBYN means reading quite a few novels. Even if you decide to throw out all past scholarly opinion on the topic (which you shouldn't), if you're going to have a meaningful personal theory, you need to have read a lot of novels first. How can you hope to be the person providing the neat overview of the whole genre if you haven't familiarized yourself widely with said genre, and not just through a summary by someone else? That amount of reading doesn't happen overnight.

The trite, surface-level media analysis online is often from people who want to be hailed as great intellectuals but who aren't willing to put in the years it takes to do all the background reading and to develop their skills in argumentation, writing, etc.

Grad school is a convenient and probably faster way to go about all that, but I think you could do it outside of a formal framework... But you would need to actually do it.

I think it's driven by a bunch of people who were The Smart One in grade school and never learned how to work hard on long-term projects instead of pushing through in a sprint. They're used to relying on being the smartest to cut corners and do things before they get bored, only they probably aren't the smartest anymore anyway, and they mistake being smart at one thing for being smart at all things.

There's a real lack of respect for the entire concept of expertise.

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Marine Academy chapter 8

Note: Chapter 8 on 28. Akainu X OC. OS is called Murphy.

THIS CHAPTER IS NSFW ! It's soft but still NSFW.

Please, do not forget, English is not my mother language and translate this kind of scene is pretty hard for me, sorry !

Marine Academy Part 1 Chapter 8

"Left on a mission, no return date".

Murphy reread for the hundredth time the letter written in hurry by Sakazuki an hour after his second departure. It was not planned at all.

She was supposed to take her physical exam at the end of the third semester and spend the evening with him to tell him how catastrophic her sword handling was.

The blonde had nearly failed her exam, within one point, allowing her to validate her semester, only thanks to the intense training session the previous weekend with Sakazuki.

Murphy still remembered how, the next morning, before she started the exam, a soldier she had once seen around Sakazuki, had discreetly gave her this letter. She had learned later that indeed, about ten second years had been called on a mission with the third years. This choice had been made at the last minute. Sakazuki had no choice but to write this letter in hurry during the night before leaving, to inform her.

It had been five long months since he had left. Once again, no letter or call but she now understood why.

But the moment had been particularly badly chosen given the events of the day before he left, when they had exchanged their kiss after training. And as usual, she had smiled at him and left , leaving him under the stars on the training ground. But when she remembered that he had responded vigorously to her kiss after a few seconds, it reassured her.

She stuffed the letter in her pocket, took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.

The jury was waiting for her, sitting on a bench. Murphy took a seat behind the desk, took out her thesis and began reading it.

Once the physical and theorical exams were over, she had entered the fourth semester where she was beginning scientific research.

Her semester had focused mainly on the theory of the various medical specialties and she had to select a topic from one of the specialties to develop a second-year dissertation. It was obviously only the first steps of real scientific research, but the blonde had invested herself body and soul in this file. She had obviously chosen a problem related to emergencies.

"Emergency care in patients with a Logia-type devil fruit, approach and particularities." Murphy began in front of the particularly attentive jury.

Her presentation lasted half an hour, as requested. Her file was clear, supported by scientific data and her experience during her various internships since entering the Academy.

"Thank you." Concluded one of the jury members whom she recognized as the head doctor of traumatology at the Marineford's Grand Hospital Marineford. She left the room in silence, letting the jury fill out their evaluation form discreetly.

When she closed the doors behind her, Claire, and Emma who had already made her presentation the day before, were waiting for her impatiently.

[...]

"Another bottle!" Emma yelled throughout the tavern.

The waiter arrived immediately, placing a bottle of sake in the center of the table, skillfully picking up the other empty bottles.

The brunette's descent was now known to the entire Academy, she was unbeatable. Claire, however, remained close to her, ready to grab her hair in case of an emergency exit... Murphy, for her part, was content to watch the scene, laughing, her yellow cocktail in her hand.

"Well, ladies." The brunette began in a brief moment of lucidity, as she tried to open the bottle with her bare hand.

"I want to congratulate us all on our exams! And good luck to our brilliant friend Claire, who is going to start her very last semester and cowardly abandon us."

The redhead had also finished her fifth semester exams and was going to start the final semester of the third year before finishing her studies at the Marine Academy.

The dorm would seem particularly empty without Claire's wisdom and calm.

As they were clinking glasses together, enjoying these last moments together, a soldier invited himself to the table of the three students. Emma had already grabbed her new bottle, ready to smash it on the soldier's skull, but was held back by Claire.

"Good evening Murphy. I was asked to warn you of Sakazuki's return. They arrived at the port half an hour ago."

Emma's eyes lit up, a psychopathic smile on her lips. "Murphy, do you hear that? It's time to wrap things up, my dear! Otherwise he'll slip through your fingers as soon as he finds another pretty blonde at the port!" The brunette yelled, drinking her glass of sake in one go.

The blonde, embarrassed by her friend's yelling throughout the tavern, hid her face in her hands. But she couldn't hide the smile that had just appeared on her lips at the announcement of Sakazuki's return.

"Murphy! Murphy! Murphy!" The brunette continued to yell throughout the tavern, quickly followed by complete strangers who were just as drunk as she was. Claire rolled her eyes at the whole mess and made discreet signs to the blonde to invite her to leave through the back before things got completely out of hand.

Murphy didn't need asking twice. She took her bag and slipped discreetly out of the tavern. The cold of the night bit her skin, she had forgotten her jacket in the bar. She jogged down the streets to warm up and stopped in front of the window of a store that was strangely still open at this hour.

She widened her eyes when she recognized the storefront.

"Jackpot!" The blonde said as she slipped inside. Her heart warmed in an instant when she smelled the aroma of cakes. Murphy bought two slices of cake, thanked the vendor and set off again at full speed through the streets. The snow was starting to fall. After a good ten minutes of running, which for her was an achievement despite the intensive training she had received from Sakazuki, she slipped through the back door of the large building.

She knew this parallel and discreet path from sneaking up with Sakazuki. She finally arrived in front of his bedroom door, a few snowflakes still in her hair, her dress slightly soaked with alcohol or snow, she wasn't sure.

Her hand hit the door twice, trying not to drop the box of cakes. She hoped that the man had come back directly from the port and hadn't been delayed, so that she could take refuge near her radiator.

No response. Murphy pressed her ear to the door and heard the shower water running. He probably hadn't heard it. The young woman tried to operate the handle and miraculously, it wasn't locked. The blonde slipped into the room, announcing her arrival anyway.

"Sakazuki! It's Murphy! I'm coming, I'm freezing!" The blonde said, putting the box of cakes on the coffee table. She heard the shower water turn off.

In the meantime, she curled up in front of the radiator, sighing with relief when the gentle heat warmed her frozen hands. "I hope you don't mind me coming in, but it's freezing outside and we're not all made of magma..." She continued, laughing.

She felt the man behind her approaching. Murphy turned to greet him but stopped short. He was half-naked, a simple towel around his hips, soaking wet. One of his legs was covered with a scar that had barely healed. His face was closed, no emotion appeared.

This cold face was no longer familiar to her. As they spent time together his features had softened, he had lowered his guard little by little and she no longer felt like she was facing a robot. But that cold face transported the blonde two years back to their first meeting.

She hesitated for a moment. Maybe she had crossed the line? Like Emma had told her, maybe he had met another pretty blonde on a port and their whole story (which was not that long after all) was already in the past for him after these five long months of absence…

"If I bother you I can come back later". Murphy whispered as she slowly got up. She felt like a hummingbird facing a cat ready to jump on her.

"I brought you a cake for your birthday." She continued, pointing at the snow-covered box on the coffee table. Smoke was coming out of Sakazuki's soaked chest, who still hadn't moved.

"I know your birthday was last month but since you weren't there I thought we could still..." The blonde didn't have time to finish before the soldier jumped on her.

She reflexively stepped back, her back lightly hitting the radiator. She felt the man's torso fall on top of her. The young woman found herself completely lying on her back on the carpet, at the foot of the sofa. She felt soldier's body envelop her, his warmth covering every inch of her skin, his right arm sliding down her back to press their two bodies together, his left hand getting lost in her blonde hair. And finally his lips pressed to hers, ardently asking for the right of entry. The man's burning body warmed her frozen body.

She responded in a few seconds to the man's burning kiss, her hips sticking to those of Sakazuki, her back arching under his caresses.

Her heart exploded at this mixture of emotions. Fear and surprise had given way to a burning pleasure of finding the man again and the desire to stay glued to his skin for hours. His kisses migrated to her neck, allowing her to breathe briefly. His left hand went down to her chest, passing under her dress. She shivered as she felt the man's powerful and warm hand caress her while he devoured her neck. As she felt herself completely weak and giving herself body and soul to the man, she stopped for a second, her forehead pressing against his.

"On the bed." She ordered.

She then felt her body take off from the ground quickly. She found herself almost standing, still in the arms of the man who continued to devour her, going from her lips to her neck. She wrapped her legs around his hips. He put his right arm on the woman's buttocks to better support her. He carried her to her room and did not let go of her for a single second as he laid her down on the bed, their lips remaining sealed. She took advantage of the fact that he was above her to lower her hands to her towel which she untied in a second. The proximity of the blonde's hands made him shiver. He hurried to take off the woman's dress for good, admiring the blonde's immaculate skin for a moment. His face went down to her chest while his hand went down to the woman's intimacy. Another burst of heat invaded the young woman when he caressed her. She buried her hands in his hair, her body burned with pleasure.

"Saka..." She whispered.

The blonde's murmur of pleasure excited the man who could not wait any longer. She was perfect, offered in front of him, and begging him. He could not hold back any longer and entered her slowly, his excitement at its peak as she screamed his name with pleasure with each of his thrusts. He felt all control leave him as she screamed his name, arching under him.

She obsessed him, he had dreamed of this moment since she left, his needs guiding him further and further into his fantasies. Holding out for so long without being able to touch her had been a real battle, he had to manage alone all this time, and this night was going to be the realization of all his fantasies. He gave one last thrust, releasing himself inside her at the same time as her as she screamed his name in a final orgasm. He collapsed on top of her carefully, pulled the covers up over them, taking her in his arms so she wouldn't get cold and let sleep take them.