#based on the human forms they had taken at the time and the society in which they lived

[autisticaradiamegido]

what do your parents look like?

day 95

wellll my moms a demon and my dads an angel so liek their true forms are incomprehensible 2 mere mortalz??

but obvs if they stayed in heaven & hell all the time they nevar wouldve met and had ME so liek they have human forms that they use when theyre in the Mortal Realm

theyre p cool i guess idk theyre just my parents lololol

[thebrightestwitchofherage]

The UN's Official Mission report on Hamas' Sexual Violence in Israel was published

Please take your time to read this. Israeli \ Jewish victims deserve the same protection as any other women.

The brief version can be read here.

----

***I am not going to include any graphic detailing.

The pattern of Sexual Violence used by Hamas is very clear:

It was one of their key goals and tactics on October 7th.

You cannot say "Female Hostages are treated well. you're lying by saying they're raped" anymore!

Notice how they also said **Children**

Civilians were in fact burned inside their homes

This is also clearly a pattern used by Hamas, as this is just one of many examples they detail. -Hamas has also burned soldiers alive in their dorms and offices. That is also further detailed in the report.

This is not fake or propaganda

I can't believe I have to write this but this report is an official report (finally) made by the UN's Sexual Violence Office, as part of their yearly report.

They had a 2-week delegation that toured the actual Kibbutzim (turned crime scenes), interviewed eyewitnesses, spoke to families of victims, etc...

___

I do have to say I was mistaken in my earlier post, besides their conclusion, they have also written their recommendations:

...." V. Conclusions

Overall, based on the totality of information gathered from multiple and independent sources at the different locations, there are reasonable grounds to believe that conflict-related sexual violence occurred at several locations across the Gaza periphery, including in the form of rape and gang rape, during the 7 October 2023 attacks. Credible circumstantial information, which may be indicative of some forms of sexual violence, including genital mutilation, sexualized torture, or cruel, inhuman and degrading treatment, was also gathered. 22

With regards to the hostages, the mission team found clear and convincing information that some hostages taken to Gaza have been subjected to various forms of conflict-related sexual violence and has reasonable grounds to believe that such violence may be ongoing.

The mission team was unable to establish the prevalence of sexual violence and concludes that the overall magnitude, scope, and specific attribution of these violations would require a fully-fledged investigation. A comprehensive investigation would enable the information base to be expanded in locations which the mission team was not able to visit and to build the required trust with survivors/victims of conflict-related sexual violence who may be reluctant to come forward at this point.

Regarding the occupied Palestinian Territory, while its scope did not extend to verification, the mission team received information from institutional and civil society sources as well as through direct interviews, about some forms of sexual violence against Palestinian men and women in detention settings, during house raids and at checkpoints. Though the mission team did not visit Gaza, the Office of the SRSG-SVC will continue to monitor the situation for any relevant allegations of CRSV in the context of the ongoing hostilities. The relevant UN entities present in the occupied Palestinian Territory will provide UN-verified information for reporting to the Security Council on allegations of CRSV, which will be complemented by the information obtained by the mission team.

VI. Recommendations

The mission team makes the following recommendations: a) Continue to encourage the Government of Israeli to grant, without further delay, access to the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights and the Independent International Commission of Inquiry on the occupied Palestinian Territory, including East Jerusalem and Israel, to carry-out fully-fledged investigations into all alleged violations that would deepen the preliminary findings contained in the present report. b) Urge Hamas and other armed groups to immediately and unconditionally release all individuals held in captivity and to ensure their protection including from sexual violence, in line with international law. c) Call on all relevant and competent bodies, national and international, to bring all perpetrators, regardless of rank or affiliation, to justice based on individual, superior and command responsibility, in accordance with due process of law and fair trial standards. d) Encourage the Government of Israel to consider signing a Framework of Cooperation with the Office of the SRSG-SVC to strengthen capacity on justice and accountability for CRSV crimes as well as security sector engagement, training, and oversight to prevent and address CRSV. 23 e) Strengthen the capacity of the United Nations to monitor and report on incidents, patterns and trends of CRSV in both Israel and the occupied Palestinian Territory through the establishment of the Monitoring, Analysis and Reporting Arrangements on CRSV (MARA), convened by dedicated technical specialists, namely Women’s Protection Advisors (WPAs), deployed to the region to ensure prevention, protection and coordinated multi-sectoral assistance to survivors/victims. f) Encourage relevant actors to uphold information integrity and ethical, trauma-informed representations of conflict-related sexual violence, including by respecting and safeguarding the dignity and identity of survivors/victims and witnesses of sexual violence, as sensationalizing headlines, media pressure and scrutiny, exposure of identity, political instrumentalization and pressure, and/or fear of reprisal can result in the suppression, silencing and discrediting of survivors/victims and witnesses, further compound trauma and increase the risk of social stigmatization. g) Urge all parties to the conflict to adopt a humanitarian ceasefire, and to ensure that expertise on addressing conflict-related sexual violence informs the design and implementation of all ceasefire and political agreements and that the voices of women and affected communities are heard in all conflict resolution and peacebuilding processes....."

Israelis have been repeatedly saying all of this for months now, while you deny it. I've personally had people tell me it's all "fake propaganda". You should all be ashamed.

I am infuriated at the fact that for 5 months, our evidence and word isn't enough for Anti-Zionists. Here is some undeniable proof for you.

Believe Jewish Women.

[arachine]

— what's going on down there?: a dick analysis

ᥫ᭡ featuring :: jake sully, miles quaritch & norm spellman

ᥫ᭡ includes :: their human forms + avatar forms

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: talking about dicks obviously, explicit sexual content (?), humor lol

ᥫ᭡ note :: if you know anything about arachine, you know i love a good dick analysis. these posts are intended for comedic purposes only, which means they’re not to be taken seriously.

— jake “ima slut you out” sully

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: as we all know, jake’s life on earth was very unfulfilling. he was a man who sacrificed his legs for the fate of the country, only to be disposed of into the unforgiving hands of society, with no way to reap the benefits (or lack thereof) that veterans were promised to receive. and after losing the privilege of mobility, his body changed drastically. he got smaller, his body got weaker, and yet, one thing remained—that dick! jake is a survivor, through and through—his personal motto is: if it ain’t broken, then it’s still working—and boy, he does not disappoint when it comes to the downstairs department. standing tall at 7 inches, is little jake (maybe not so little). when flaccid, his length measures at a solid 5.7 inches. definitely a grower. 

⟳ width: a little bit on the skinnier side, but he knows how to use it and that’s all that matters!

⟳ color: i think for the most part, his shaft definitely matches the rest of his body; though, i can see it maybe being slightly a little more darker at the base, like a very light beige. when he’s flaccid, his tip is a pretty pink, almost like a ballet slipper (aka the best pink). turns into an angry red when fully erect!

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: jake pegs me as the kinda guy who doesn’t really care? i mean, trimming isn’t foreign to him, because he has trimmed it before, and does so when he notices it’s gotten to be too long…but, i don’t think it’s something that he does often. to him, it’s just hair. he’s on his grown man shit, you know? 

02. curved?: uhm, yes! you know that one beyoncé lyric? yeah. 

03. any veins?: absolutely covered in ‘em

04. how he fucks with it: i’d like to think before his accident, he was a doggy style connoisseur—come on, it’s jake we’re talking about here. can’t nobody tell me otherwise! i just know he had bitches bent over, weaves sweated out, makeup all over the pillows…mans was f-u-c-k-i-n-g okay? fuckingggg. 

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: the masses may attack me, but it’s time i spoke up. the man has a monster schlong. a cooter cat killer, if you will. if you thought his human form was big, shit, you ain’t seen nothing yet! completely flaccid, his cock measures to about 10 inches. when fully hard, he grows an additional three! talk about impressive…

⟳ width: so thick that it basically slaps his thighs when he walks. the man could create a beat with it, get em into the soundcloud business now!

⟳ color: self explanatory tbh, it’s fucking blue. as blue as papa smurf’s ass. 

⟳ extra: 

01. groomed?: i’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that because he’s an avatar, he grows hair there. even if i’m wrong, i’m right. i don’t give a damn what james cameron says. he’s basically my character at this point, and i will him to have hair damnit! just…the idea of him having a full bush down there, in the wild, all primitive and shit…does something to me. idk. don’t ask me why i’m so nasty, blame my deadbeat father. 

02. curved?: is a banana yellow? there’s your answer. 

03. any veins?: i might have a brain aneurysm just thinking about it, but yes! god, yes. so many…so, so, so many. ribbed for her pleasure or whatever trojan said. 

04. how he fucks with it: is he still the doggy style connoisseur? yes. but now that’s got the strength of 20 men, backshots sound a whole lot like gunshots now. they say every time the mighty toruk makto thrusts into a cunt, a tree falls down or something. so, yes. fucks hard, fucks rough, fucks like he’s on a mission. what’s that one tik tok audio? “rest in peace to all the soldiers that died in the service, i dive in her cervix.” yeah, he lives by that. 

— miles “on your knees, cadet!” quaritch

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: just gonna cut right to the chase. he’s huge. like pussy splitting huge. i don’t care what anyone says, you can argue with ya friend, you can argue with ya mother, but you cannot argue with me! coming in at a solid 6 when flaccid, quaritch takes the cake for the biggest cock on this list (at least, human form wise). at full length, he measures to about 7.8 inches! 

‘booooo’ you say, well, guess what? it’s the truth, and i’m just the messenger. whether you hate him or love him, he’s just that guy. 

⟳ width: surprisingly average. but it’s okay, sometimes you can’t have the best of both worlds. 

⟳ color: if my memory serves me right, he was pretty tan in the first movie. so, i’m gonna stick with that and say that it’s a pretty tan that transitions into a pale pink. i don’t know if some of you have seen old dick, but their tips get less saturated with age. it’s a phenomenon (not really, the blood flow to the groin is just a lot slower, which can make it appear kind of gre—anyway, i digress!)

⟳ extra: 

01. groomed?: this man is a colonel, so he’s all about discipline and keeping things nice and tidy. so, obviously, his hygiene reflects that. i don’t think he goes completely bald, but he does give it a good trim. kind of like a fade…just imagine a patch of grey, prickly hair. yeah. 

02. curved?: yes, and since he’s older, it’s probably curved a lot. you could probably hang something on it. maybe a towel, or a lanyard. it’s definitely useful for something!

03. any veins?: god, i don’t know why, but i have it in my head that he’s on steroids. he’s just so buff and strong, and i mean, yeah, he could just be really fit…but he could also be a self-image obsessed freak who takes drugs to be the perfect soldier. the correlation, you ask? well, i just feel like people who take steroids are really veiny, and i feel like his dick would be really, really veiny. so, thus the rant about steroids. steroid dick. 

04. how he fucks with it: don’t let his age fool you. he may very well be pushing his late fifties, but he’s still a young man at heart—and he’s definitely got the sex drive to prove it! i can see his favorite position being something like missionary. not so much because he enjoys the intimacy of it (like being face to face), but more so because he’s got a size kink—and definitely a dacryphilia kink. he enjoys seeing his partners cry, whether in pain, or in pleasure, or both! so, when you’re fucking him, don’t expect anything romantic. he just wants to see your pretty little face all teary eyed and pathetic. 

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: so big you can see it from space; that’s how the RDA mfs know they’re close, because they can see the tip protruding from pandora. no, but seriously, it’s still really huge. like maybe 12-14 inches—maximum. 

⟳ width: probably twice as thick as a human’s forearm. and god, it’s sooooo heavy. big breeding balls to match. 

⟳ color: blue blue blue…like wet fun dip. with just as many stripes as the american flag or whatever. 

⟳ extra: 

01. groomed?: yes, but the hair is black instead of grey and it’s probably really straight because na’vi hair is straight as fuck. 

02. curved?: sir, yes sir. 

03. any veins?: what’d i say? steroid dick. but even worse (better) now bc he’s so damn tall, he needs all the blood he can get down there.

04. how he fucks with it: has you in all types of positions. his favorites are anything that shows off his new found strength, so i’m betting on full nelsons and mating presses. just fast, powerful strokes. lives by the motto: can’t stop, won’t stop.

— norm “what’s the sq root of 69?” spellman

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: i’m sorry to disappoint the norm fuckers (if there are any), but he’s not that big. when he’s soft, his cock measures to about 4.8 inches, and at most, 6.2 inches when hard. 

⟳ width: skinny dick. 

⟳ color: dawg he’s so white, it’s like hella pale and the tip is so pink that when he’s aroused, it looks like there’s something wrong.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: like jake, i don’t think he really cares.

02. curved?: straight like a pencil

03. any veins?: like two, and they’re really prominent because he’s so fucking pale.

04. how he fucks with it: i don’t think human norm is getting puss, let’s be real. 

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: i am a firm believer in N.W.B.C—nerds with big cocks. it’s just the universe’s way of saying thank you, they just…they just do so much for us, you know? norm may not have been packing down there in his human form, but this was his second chance at redemption. he’s now a proud member of N.W.B.C, sporting an impressive 15 inches. you know that one scene in the first spider-man when pete’s looking at himself in the mirror and he looks inside his briefs? yeah, that was norm when he found out. the man got so excited, he accidentally catapulted a scientist out of pandora’s atmosphere with the weight of his cock. joking. 

⟳ width: on the skinnier side but still toe curling, nonetheless.

⟳ color: laffy taffy blue, with little (big) blueberry balls.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: no, he’s too busy in the lab and getting na’vi puss.

02. curved?: unfortunately no

03. any veins?: more than before, which he was pleasantly surprised to see.

04. how he fucks with it: norm’s got a big dick, but he acts so shy, like he’s scared of it or something. like stop playing boy and drop them drawls, the fuck? anyway, i think norm’s a sub. he pegs me as the type of guy who likes strong women, women who’ll tell him to shut the fuck up (because he talks so much) and eat their pussies. i guess this makes him a munch. yeah, he’s a munch. ice spice actually wrote that song with him in mind!

© arachine 2023

[saythenametotheworld]

Timeless | jww

Pairing: SEVENTEEN Wonwoo x Reader

Notes: 2.5k words. Based on a writing prompt I saw today. here's some story written on a whim! Enjoy!

~

The sun shone brightly up the sky, bringing a comfortable warmth to the late Saturday morning at a park by the Han River. Wonwoo sat there, a timeless observer in a constantly changing world. He leaned back on the wooden bench, closing his eyes to the gentle hum of life around him. The soft breeze, the distant laughter of children, and the conversation of people around him that were reduced to soft murmurs in his ears all melded into a soothing symphony. But his thoughts were elsewhere, drifting back through the centuries to a love long past.

Wonwoo had stopped aging a long time ago, a quirk of fate that he had no idea how he came to possess but had left him a witness to the continuous march of time. He had seen the rise and fall of civilizations and empires, cities that crumbled and rebuilt, and the countless faces of people passing in and out of his life. He remembered the grandeur and the bustling markets of ancient Rome, the silent strength of the Great Wall as it snaked through the mountains between China and Mongolia, the rise of the Goryeo Dynasty, and its eventual transition to the Joseon Period.

Exactly how old is he now? He had lost count. Over time, it just didn’t matter anymore. One of his earliest memories was standing on the shores of a vast, uncharted ocean, the salty breeze whipping through his hair. He had been living his early life on an island with his kin and had no idea there was an entire world beyond the high seas. He had watched as explorers docked on the shores of his home and heard said explorers declare that a whole wide world was out there. Civilizations, society, and people. All of these were foreign to him. Surely, he must set out to see this massive world they spoke of, and he did exactly that.

Wonwoo had set sail into the unknown, his eyes alight with dreams of discovery. That was when he realized that he was no ordinary man. He was someone who had been gifted by the heavens with time—a limitless, continuous, endless amount of time.

In the years that followed, Wonwoo lived among these men, never given the chance to find his home again. He watched as men took to the seas, charting routes that allowed Wonwoo to explore the vastness of the Earth. He had walked through the newly founded streets of New Amsterdam, marveled at the opulence of Versailles, and witnessed the fiery birth of the industrial age. 

Wonwoo did everything and anything a man with unlimited time could do. He explored the world, unearthing and discovering its beauty and magnificence. He studied sciences, medicine, engineering, and even advancements in architecture and infrastructure. He dabbled with arts in its many forms. He made friends with some people who eventually passed but would be remembered as important figures in history. Sometimes he liked to think he had contributed to the progress of humanity, however little it may be.

And romance, well, despite not knowing exactly how to engage in genuine romantic pursuits, that didn’t stop him from indulging himself with people he found alluring—whoever they were, wherever they were from as long as he has taken a liking to them.

But among these myriad of memories, one stood out with aching clarity. You. 

You had been his heart's desire for heaven knows how long. Wonwoo had met you in a bustling marketplace, your eyes catching his from across the crowd. There had been an instant connection, a pull that neither of you could deny. You had spent days exploring the city together, hours lost in whispered conversations and shared dreams, and nights spent with passion and warmth.

He remembered the way your hair flowed freely with the breeze, your eyes that shone in the moonlight, the warmth of your hand in his, and the way your laughter had chased away the shadows of his loneliness. But time was a thief, and it had taken you from him, leaving only memories in its wake. Such was the life of an immortal. People will come and go, friends eventually pass, and the bond between lovers withers away like flowers in October. Although he had never experienced love the way he did with you, he tried to move on with his life knowing no power on Earth will ever bring you back. Or so he had thought.

Years later, he had been wandering through the streets of Paris when he saw you again, your face unchanged, your eyes just as bright. You did not know him—not at first—but the connection was still there, and it was as undeniable as ever.

“I know you,” Wonwoo had told you at the time.

You were surprised at first, frowning at the man with whom you unknowingly held hands when he offered to help you board your carriage. You had thought it was your coachman, but it was a stranger—an oddly familiar stranger, but still a stranger.

“You do?” you had told him, maintaining a dignified composure despite being intrigued by him. What was that slight ache tugging at your heartstrings at the sight of his smiling face? “Well, I do not know you so it would be best if you refrain from approaching me without warning, sir.”

“I see. I beg your pardon,” he replied, still smiling as if he was overjoyed to be in your presence. “I am Jeon Wonwoo. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

In that life, you fell in love once more. And like the first, your time together was fleeting, and you were gone once more. This time, Wonwoo was hopeful that you would find each other again.

This became your pattern. Several years after your death, you would reincarnate, always with the same face, the same smile, the same laughter. Fate would bring you back to Wonwoo every time, even when he wasn't looking for you. In the high society of England year 1750, you had been a debutante in search of a husband and found Wonwoo. In the streets of Tokyo, in 1821, you were a painter, your art capturing the essence of the love you shared.  In the serene hills of Tuscany,  you had been a writer, your words weaving your shared story into the fabric of time. In the roaring twenties of New York, you had been a singer, your voice a siren call that drew him to you.

Each time you were reborn, you and Wonwoo would meet as strangers, fall in love all over again, and then, inevitably, you would leave him.

“I’ll come find you,” he told you on your deathbed, sickness has caused your young body to wither away. It had always been this way. You meet Wonwoo, share a couple years with him, maybe a whole decade if you are lucky, and then some illness or accident takes you away.

“I love you, Wonu.”

“I know. I love you more than anything in this world.”

It was a cycle of joy and heartbreak, of fleeting moments to Wonwoo that felt like lifetimes for you. But he was content. He was happy and he finally had something he wanted to keep living for.

But then, suddenly, you stopped coming back. You just… didn’t. Wonwoo waited, searched, and hoped, but you did not return. The decades stretched into a century and even as the 2000s came, still, you were nowhere to be found. He scoured the corners of the earth, looking for any sign of you, but it was as if you had vanished from the cycle of reincarnation. Wonwoo had been complacent. He was too relaxed and got so comfortable that he forgot something like this could happen.

Desperation and longing became his constant companions. His endless life was lonely and devoid of meaning until he found love in you, and now, without you, it felt empty once more.

Still, Wonwoo did not dare give up. In his search for you, he discovered a new passion: music. He found solace in melodies and rhythms, and his talent quickly blossomed. He began composing and singing, pouring his soul into every note. His music resonated with people, and he became a renowned singer, his voice known across the world. While he enjoyed his craft, his fame also served another purpose. He hoped that by becoming a public figure, his face appearing on screens and stages everywhere, you would find your way back to him.

But as the years passed, his hopes began to wane. No one who came to him even remotely resembled you, not your face, not your smile, nothing. His frustration grew with each passing day, the relentless search taking its toll on his spirit. The world lauded his music, yet he remained haunted by an unfulfilled longing, his heart aching for the one person who made his endless life worth living. The world around him has changed so much, technology advancing, cultures shifting, but his heart remained trapped in the past—the time so long ago when you first saw each other. His heart stayed broken, yearning and mourning you that he had lost.

And today, Wonwoo opened his eyes only to realize that hours had passed since he sat in front of the Han River. This was your favorite spot in your last life. You made the best memories here together, and as such, this place has become the one place Wonwoo can go to if he misses you. As the sun began to dip low in the sky, casting long shadows across the park, Wonwoo closed his eyes again, the weight of his sadness sat heavy on his heart. He did not notice the figure that had taken a seat beside him, nor the way they watched him with a gaze full of curiosity and recognition. It wasn't until the voice broke through his reverie that he was jolted back to the present.

“You're still thinking about me after all this time?”

Wonwoo's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his chest. He turned to look at the speaker, his breath catching in his throat. There was no mistaking that voice. Even if it was over a hundred years ago, or two hundred, or four hundred years ago when he first heard you speak, Wonwoo would never forget that voice. And sure enough, it was you, unchanged by the years, as if you had stepped out of his memories and into the present.

“My love…” he whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief and hope. “My love. Is that you?”

You smiled the same radiant smile that had haunted his dreams. “These days, I think it’s cooler to call your lover Babe, or Bub or something short but sweet like that.”

He reached out, hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty, his fingers brushing against your cheek. You were real, warm, and alive, and the floodgates of his emotions burst open.

You reached back to caress his face. “It’s been a while, Wonu.”

Slowly, unbeknownst to himself, Wonwoo’s tears rolled down his cheeks. With both hands, he held your cheeks, pulling you to sit next to him on the grass. “Where were you? I couldn’t find you!” he said, his voice breaking. 

You rolled your eyes, trying to appear aloof even as your own tears threatened to fall. “Silly. You knew you could never find me even if you tried. It is me who must go to you. Always. It doesn’t matter if I don’t recognize you, I will always be the one to find you.”

“But it has been too long. Too much time has passed without you.”

“Why? Did you get tired of waiting?” you asked, leaning affectionately in his hands. You feigned a sulky face. “Has your love faltered after waiting too long?”

“No,” he denied, a relieved smile finally showing on his lips. “I never stopped looking for you.”

“And I never stopped waiting for a chance to come and find you again,” you replied softly. “I've seen you, through the ages. Always so close, yet just out of reach.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your shared history pressing down on you. Wonwoo’s eyes never left your face, not even for a second. If he could, he wouldn’t even blink in case you suddenly disappeared and he realized this was all just a dream. You let him stare at you as much as he wanted, enjoying his attention and feeling happy about being able to hold him again. The world around you has faded away, leaving only the two of you, bound by time and love.

Wonwoo thought back to the countless lives he had lived, the friends he had made and lost, the wars he had fought, and the empires he had seen rise and fall. Despite having everything, you had been the only one he wanted and loved, a beacon of hope and love that had kept him going. In his long life, he rarely prayed to the heavens who bestowed him the curse of immortality, but he prayed for you. He prayed they bring you back to him. If they really were up there, it seemed to Wonwoo that they had heard his earnest pleas. Or maybe not, but he still wanted to thank someone, whether it was god, fate, or the universe. Whichever it was, they had allowed him to reunite with his beloved once more.

He remembered a conversation with a philosopher in ancient Greece, who had spoken of the eternal nature of the soul. “Love transcends time,” the philosopher had said. “It is the one thing that endures, no matter the changes that come.”

Wonwoo had seen the truth of those words in the faces of lovers across the ages. He had seen it in the way a soldier clung to a locket, a token of his beloved back home. He had seen it in the eyes of a mother, cradling her newborn child. And now, he saw it in your eyes, as bright and full of love as they had been all those centuries ago.

“How is this possible?” he asked, still grappling with the reality of your presence.

“Honestly? I don't know,” you admitted. “But does it matter? We're here now, together.”

He nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Please don’t let this be a wicked dream that I would wake up from eventually.”

You chuckled heartily, leaning closer to kiss his forehead. “It’s not, Won. It’s me.”

“It really is. It is you, my love,” he chimed, lifting your chin to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

For the first time in centuries, he felt a sense of peace, a feeling of coming home. There was a certain sense of finality in this reunion. Wonwoo could not quite grasp what this meant, but it didn't matter—not now that you're finally sitting there with him after so long.

As the stars began to twinkle overhead, Wonwoo held your hand in his and brought you home. Finally, he had found what he had been searching for all these years. Wonwoo and you found your own timeless moment, a reunion that transcended the ages. And in that moment, you both knew that love, true love, was indeed eternal.

[fin]

[whencyclopedia]

A Brief History of Egyptian Art

Art is an essential aspect of any civilization. Once the basic human needs have been taken care of such as food, shelter, some form of community law, and a religious belief, cultures begin producing artwork, and often all of these developments occur more or less simultaneously. This process began in the Predynastic Period in Egypt (c. 6000 - c. 3150 BCE) through images of animals, human beings, and supernatural figures inscribed on rock walls. These early images were crude in comparison to later developments but still express an important value of Egyptian cultural consciousness: balance.

Egyptian society was based on the concept of harmony known as ma'at which had come into being at the dawn of creation and sustained the universe. All Egyptian art is based on perfect balance because it reflects the ideal world of the gods. The same way these gods provided all good gifts for humanity, so the artwork was imagined and created to provide a use. Egyptian art was always first and foremost functional. No matter how beautifully a statue may have been crafted, its purpose was to serve as a home for a spirit or a god. An amulet would have been designed to be attractive but aesthetic beauty was not the driving force in its creation, protection was. Tomb paintings, temple tableaus, home and palace gardens all were created so that their form suited an important function and, in many cases, this function was a reminder of the eternal nature of life and the value of personal and communal stability.

Early Dynastic Period Art

The value of balance, expressed as symmetry, infused Egyptian art from the earliest times. The rock art from the Predynastic Period establishes this value which is fully developed and realized in the Early Dynastic Period of Egypt (c. 3150 - c. 2613 BCE). Art from this period reaches its height in the work known as The Narmer Palette (c. 3200-3000 BCE) which was created to celebrate the unity of Upper and Lower Egypt under King Narmer (c. 3150 BCE). Through a series of engravings on a siltstone slab, shaped as a chevron shield, the story is told of the great king's victory over his enemies and how the gods encouraged and approved his actions. Although some of the images of the palette are difficult to interpret, the story of unification and the celebration of the king is quite clear.

On the front, Narmer is associated with the divine strength of the bull (possibly the Apis Bull) and is seen wearing the crown of Upper and Lower Egypt in a triumphal procession. Below him, two men wrestle with entwined beasts which are often interpreted as representing Upper and Lower Egypt (though this view is contested and there seems no justification for it). The reverse side shows the king's victory over his enemies while the gods look on approvingly. All these scenes are carved in low-raised relief with incredible skill.

This technique would be used quite effectively toward the end of the Early Dynastic Period by the architect Imhotep (c. 2667-2600 BCE) in designing the pyramid complex of King Djoser (c. 2670 BCE). Images of lotus flowers, papyrus plants, and the djed symbol are intricately worked into the architecture of the buildings in both high and low relief. By this time the sculptors had also mastered the art of working in stone to created three-dimensional life-sized statues. The statue of Djoser is among the greatest works of art from this period.

Continue reading...

[flawlessflesh]

at arm's length

CW: Discussion of CSA and trafficking

I originally wrote this meta in response to a retrospring anon - These are my thoughts on the impact of child abuse on Thistle's ability to form relationships or feel attraction.

Keep in mind as you read that this is based on my personal interpretation of Thistle as a present-day teen who was trafficked for several years before being taken to the golden kingdom. This meta is canon-adjacent, not canon, and can be considered supplementary info for my fics.

-

Thistle has a heaping pile of trauma centered on interpersonal relationships and intimacy. This, along with his lifespan, inhibits him from forming equal relationships with others, and outside of his very small family group he doesn’t feel safe or capable of reaching out to people or letting people in.

He can feel attraction towards others but he shuts it down and doesn’t act on it because it feels like something bad will happen if he does. I consider him to be more comfortable around men than he is with women because he thinks he knows what he can expect from men (men were the main perpetrators of his abuse, but men like Freinag and Delgal are also the most important relationships in his life), but he has no idea what to expect from women. Best to avoid them. Most of his attraction is towards men as well and that complicates things due to the likelihood that these historical fantasy tall-man societies are homophobic - and Thistle isn’t treated like a man but he also isn’t a woman, so is it allowed? Is there something wrong with him for feeling this way? He doesn’t know. It isn't safe. So he keeps it all to himself.

In my timeline, Thistle doesn’t start puberty until a few years before the kingdom is turned into a dungeon. He never has the typical experience of crushes and childhood romance because he has no peers to engage in them with - his slower aging and his race isolate him. Everyone sees the silly little elf jester first and not the person. All he has is the royal family. Delgal goes through puberty, fools around, gets married, and through it all Thistle only understands that behavior like it’s something he’s read about in a book. He's disturbed by it too, having only had negative experiences with human sexuality, as little as he remembers of it. As an aside, I think when Thistle was brought to the castle he briefly had a crush on the king, but it was a child’s harmless emotion directed towards someone safe who he perceived as having saved him. If you’ve ever had a strong attachment towards a teacher or mentor growing up it was like that, and Freinag wasn’t aware of it and did not encourage it.

This is going deep into headcanon territory now. Thistle was trafficked by the troupe master of the traveling performers who had him before he was given to King Freinag. Thistle has suppressed the entire thing and can’t clearly recall the last twenty years of his life before Freinag. The information he has about that time is what people later told him (“your parents abandoned you”, “you were part of a traveling troupe”, “you already knew how to play the flute and follow instructions well”, etc). Freinag unintentionally replicates the emotional abuse that Thistle suffered — he calls Thistle his child but treats him more like a pet who has to perform for approval, and he is overly physically affectionate while neglecting the very real parental needs Thistle has as a young child. Thistle's hurt is like a barely scabbed over wound that keeps being picked at until it bleeds again.

Thistle grows up with an incorrect idea of how adults are allowed to treat him which leads to wariness towards everyone who is not the immediate royal family. They’re safe, they don’t do anything bad, but he can’t trust anyone else. Plus - he doesn’t like when strangers single him out for being an elf. He wants to fit in so badly and instead they invade his space and point out how he’s different and are always reaching for his ears. The few times he feels attraction he suppresses it on instinct without trying to understanding what it is or what prompted it. He doesn’t want to feel drawn to anyone he isn’t already close to. It’s a self-preservation mechanism and a reaction to the abuse he suffered, and after a while the curiosity is blocked off altogether.

In a post-canon future where he’s found a will to live and is healed to the point where he is interested in meeting new people, I still think he wouldn’t want to have an intimate relationship. It’s like a chasm, a frightening abyss of possibility for new experiences but also for getting hurt, and he has been hurt too many times already. Friendship would be daunting enough - I genuinely think he’d struggle with it - but anything more is equivalent with ruinous loss of control in his mind. Things can get better with time, conscious work, and understanding, but this mindset is where I see him staying for a long while. Thistle doesn’t do well with change or admitting truths to himself that he’s worked very, very hard to suppress.

[poppitron360]

I’d like to dive deeper into my thoughts on Caleo, bc they have been taking up most of my brainpower rn:

I get where Rick was going with it. I really do. They started off hating each other, Calypso thinking Leo was really annoying and just generally being like “why is this tiny human talking to me?”, but then they grew closer, realised they misunderstood each other, and bonded over common ground. It’s sweet. But the thing is, Rick? You’ve already got a character that did all that with Leo in the previous book!

And his name is Frank.

1. You’ve already set up that dynamic! Why not spend more time focusing on fleshing out that existing arc instead of creating a new one?

2. There’s SO MUCH more potential with angst- Frank being afraid of Leo bc of his fire, Leo being afraid of Frank because he’s twice his size and could easily crush his tiny body under his foot. Leo’s had to learn to survive on his brains and quick-wits in order to protect himself from bullies, and instantly gets defensive when he sees Frank. Frank is very insecure and sensitive, so immediately falls victim to Leo’s jokes. It takes a while for both of them to take those walls down, put aside their differences, and learn to trust each other.

3. It’s just hilarious how got-off-on-the-wrong-foot they were. A reminder that when Frank first met Leo, Leo had just destroyed half of New Rome. They both immediately judged each other completely based on looks- like it’s seriously funny how much you could compare these two to “Pride and Prejudice”. Also, the awkward misunderstanding that was the whole Sammy thing-

4. But they also have a lot more in common that Leo and Calypso ever did- similar trauma with losing their moms, and actually Leo is just as afraid of fire as Frank is. Both are incredibly insecure, and they both feel like they don’t belong among the other Seven.

5. You’ve also got that fun opposites-attract thing- Frank is big and muscular, Leo is built like a twig. Frank is big soft pookie bear, Leo is an absolute menace to society. Frank can turn into animals, Leo is a machines guy. Frank is Roman, Leo is Greek. You get the idea. They were written to juxtapose each other beautifully. They are the Yin to each other’s Yang.

6. They get so much more time together to establish a meaningful relationship. Their arc carries over three books, and we get to form connections as a reader to BOTH Leo AND Frank separately beforehand, so the payoff is a lot more satisfying. It takes time for them to open up to each other, and when they do it feels like they earned it. Calypso and Leo got a couple of chapters, that’s it.

It doesn’t have to be romantic! Leo can heal his trauma with friends and found family, learning to love and accept himself, learning that he doesn’t actually need the attention of a hot girl to be valid. He can find his place among his brethren with the help of all his friends, even Frank- the most unlikely of friends.

I wish Rick had put more effort into fleshing out the platonic relationships instead of just conforming to romance-centric ideals of “love fixes everything!” It’s lazy, and boring, and has been done to death. Platonic friendships make up 95% of our relationships, yet they are SERIOUSLY underrepresented in media. I’m calling for more interesting platonic dynamics. Leo and Frank could’ve been so much more, if Rick had actually taken the time to build on their relationship, and focused less on “Leo Needs a Girlfriend”!

So, when I say “Everything Caleo did, Valzhang could do better”- THAT is what I meant.

Also, Jason is so much better for Leo than Calypso, but that’s a whole other post.

[Edit: And I have made that post! You can find it here]

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Mayuri Kurotsuchi (Bleach) -Oneshot

You weren't certain how you got so unlucky. Ichigo always told you that this captain was a psycho. You should have taken it more seriously. Because when you discovered your abilities, the Head captain assured you that they would be able to help to avoid another breakdown like you had in the world of the living.

Splitting a building in half.

You were scared. Terrified that you would hurt someone. You'd gotten lucky that the structure was abandoned, but the next time you wouldn't be as fortunate. So here you were, in the soul society, hiding.

"I just need to make it to Rukia, then she can open that freaking portal and get me out of here."

You had one meeting with Mayuri Kurotsuchi and that was enough. He went on a tangent about all the experiments he wanted to conduct and it became clear that he had no interest in helping you hone your skills.

"There she is Nemu."

You flinched from your spot behind the wall. You weren't even offered a chance to run.

"W-Wait!!"

"Knock her out."

With a swift tap to the back of your head, your vision faded.

~~

"Such bothersome creatures, humans."

You were laying on the table and Mayuri moved closer, holding the needle.

"Master, if you'd explained to her that we were actually trying to help she might have been more willing."

Mayuri just grinned.

"Everything I do has a purpose. Powers such as hers are typically more prominent when she's in fear. I was merely checking to see if I could urge a fraction of that energy. I was right. You saw it didn't you?"

Nemu nods.

"Yes master, her reiatsu is quite raw. Humans in the world of the living are quite unique."

"Indeed they are. I will enjoy this."

He pressed the needle into your skin, watching the liquid slide beneath your skin as he stepped away.

"Now we wait until she wakes up. You're dismissed."

"Yes master." Nemu bowed, walking away.

Mayuri's gaze moved back to your form. You shifted against the table, and his eyes narrowed.

"Is she waking already?"

You should have been asleep for at least another hour, especially with what he'd just administered into your bloodstream. He placed the needle down, moving closer. Your eyes opened lazily, and Mayuri just folded his arms.

"How unusual, you're already awake."

It took a moment for you to gather your bearings, but when you did, your eyes shot open. You jolted upright.

"What the hell did you-"

Your statement dropped at the end, and your body disappeared. Mayuri grinned, and you staggered when you reappeared a distance away, eyes shaking in shock. You straightened, and Mayuri just watched you proudly. Your eyes drifted to your hands.

"W-What just happened..."

"I believe I fixed your problem."

You just stared at him. Because although he'd literally kidnapped you and possibly slipped some crazy evil genius serum in your veins, you couldn't deny that something felt different. It all felt lighter, like you'd dropped some heavy weight.

"Would you like to learn more?"

His grin was wide, because you knew he could see your eagerness to understand what happened. He would no doubt put you through some crazy trails, but your curiosity was brimming. You needed to know.

"I do."

Exactly what he wanted to hear.

~Four Months Later~

"WHAT THE HELL MAYURI!!"

You were being chased by a hollow and Mayuri just watched.

"I told you that your reiatsu was growing. You should never let your guard down."

"NO SHIT!!"

You spun around, clenching your fist. When it jumped at you, your legs grounded and you fired a punch. The base of your hand connected with its mask and the shockwave of energy caved the hollow's mask in, sending a rush of wind that batted against the trees present. The hollow disintegrated almost instantly as the wind began to level out.

You huffed.

"Impressive, your spiritual pressure has grown quite a lot. Your abilities are still very sloppy, but there is always room for improvement."

A vein popped on your head at the statement.

"I'LL SHOW YOU SLOPPY!!"

This was nothing new.

Mayuri made you his little lap dog. Always testing out his crazy theories on you. The first time you mastered flash step, he'd failed to tell you that you were close to the Kuchiki clan's residence. So when you landed in Byakuya's koi pond and killed some of his precious fish, it's safe to say that you'd spent that night in the fourth squad barracks getting healed by Hanataro.

He was a menace to society. An effortless genius, but a bastard. After your outburst, you'd left and headed to hang out with Nemu and her little association. She was having tea with some of the other female reapers.

"Then he says that I'm sloppy, do you believe that!!"

Okay, so maybe you just came to vent.

Rangiku laughs.

"That does sound like him."

You sighed heavily.

"I just wish he'd help me without it always turning into me ending up with a dozen bruises. Is that too much to ask?"

" I understand you might be skeptical, but Master must have faith in your abilities."

You snort.

"Like if, he just enjoys having me around to mess with." You grumbled.

Nemu wore a smile.

"Master has never taken interest in anyone who wasn't on some level important. Especially humans. In his eyes, there is worth. It may not seem like it, and he will never say it, but to him, you matter."

The statement was not what you were expecting.

You didn't want to talk about it further, so you grabbed a cup of tea and downed it like alcohol as Yachiru cheered in the background.

As you were making your way back after hours of venting, her words still wouldn't leave you.

That's why when you headed to his barracks, it was just a distraction. Your trips to the soul society were usually you hanging out with Mayuri and ending up in some kind of crazy situation.

Although that was the truth, you could have walked away at any time. You didn't have to keep coming back.

"So why do I.."

You couldn't answer the question.

"He will never say it, but to him, you matter."

You blushed as the words played back.

"I-IT'S NOT LIKE I LIKE HIM OR ANYTHING!!"

"Quit your yelling."

The nonchalant voice was expected. You hadn't even realized that you walked into his personal lab.

The blue haired male standing before you was not who you expected to see.

"W-WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!!!"

"Would you seize the yelling."

His voice sounds agitated and you just pointed dumbly, because you knew that voice.

"M-M-Mayuri!!"

He ran a hand through his hair, disinterested.

"Who else would it be? Do you think I would let some stranger into my personal space to exploit my discoveries? I'd quicker dissect them."

A creepy smile grew on his face and you sweatdropped.

"Yep, that's definitely him."

It took you a moment to realize his hair was dripping, as if he just came out of the shower. He was moving around the room casually, yet you still kept your distance.

This was weird.

Your silence must have finally drawn his attention, because he turned to you, and your face heated up.

"Why are you suddenly so quiet?"

"N-No reason!!"

You waved frantically.

He didn't seem to buy that. With one step, he was standing right in front of you.

Mayuri leaned slightly to match your height, wearing that know it all grin.

"Did you fall in love with this face?"

"T-THAT'S RIDICULOUS!!"

His stupid smirk didn't leave, and all you wanted to do at that moment was punch him if nothing but to stop your embarrassment. His hand slid behind your neck, and you meant to question it, but his lips were suddenly pressed to your own, and all you could do was gape like a fish. His sapphire tresses tickled your forehead, and you couldn't help but take in the scent of his wash. It was almost intoxicating.

His tongue drifted over your lips teasingly and you couldn't stop the sound that escaped. Mayuri pulled back, tauntingly. Enjoying the dazed look in your eyes.

"You're transparent, (Y/N)."

You swallowed. Because during the entirety of your partnership, he'd never called you by your name. Nor has he ever looked at you like that.

"Nemu was right.."

It seems you've gained the attention of this crazy genius. You weren't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

[inamindfarfaraway]

I don’t often share personal stories on here, but listen. I’m in my university’s Hedgehog Society and today they held a casual, friendly hedgehog cake decorating competition. They provided store-bought, iced cakes, confectionery materials and tools. We turned those cakes into hedgehogs. Red velvet cake was among the bases offered.

I knew what I had to do.

I created Shadow the Hedgecake.

Now, three points of context:

I am extremely perfectionistic and self-conscious about what I create, as a rule. This is worse in social situations and I’m especially uncomfortable with visual and physical mediums. I hate drawing. The permanence of marring a blank canvas terrifies me. I can delete words in a document, but if I stain a page with my human imperfection by one wrong line, that page is ruined. The same principle applies to sculpture and so on. I used to cry in art class. A lot. The only reason I don’t anymore is that I no longer do art class.

In a similar vein of irrational anxiety and shame, I’m very secretive about many of my fandom interests in my personal life, particularly those that are likely to be mocked or not taken seriously. Like Sonic the Hedgehog. I know that my stress is disproportionate and I’ve never actually been bullied or anything. But unless I know or suspect that someone either likes the media too or is happy to learn about it, I just don’t broach the subject. My followers have seen sides of me that I’ve never shown my family.

Nobody in the Hedgehog Society had indicated before this meeting that they liked Sonic the Hedgehog. Nobody else did a character cake like me. I committed to this alone and unsupported in public.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I have an anxiety disorder, but I am autistic. So my social thinking and confidence aren’t exactly normal.

But I’ve recently started university. I’m pushing my limits and putting myself out there and starting to connect with new people. This is a time for growth. This is 2024: the Year of Shadow. The Fearless Year of Shadow. So I decided to do something I’d always struggled to. I would relax, not take this too seriously and follow my vision.

BEHOLD. THE ULTIMATE LIFEFORM.

Don’t tell me you don’t see the resemblance. He’s partly red! He’s in his super form! He’s got a light fluffy patch on his chest! He’s got two pairs of gold rings/circles/whatever! He’s a messy, angular weirdo!

He’s angry and crying because he watched his best friend get murdered by the government!

Did I win the contest? No. Did I place? No. But I had fun, and I was original and true to myself. Thanks, Shadow.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

April 12, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

APR 13, 2024

At 4:30 a.m. on April 12, 1861, Confederate forces fired on Fort Sumter, a federal fort built on an artificial island in Charleston Harbor. 

Attacking the fort seemed a logical outcome of events that had been in play for at least four months. On December 20, 1860, as soon as it was clear Abraham Lincoln had won the 1860 presidential election, South Carolina lawmakers had taken their state out of the Union. “The whole town [of Charleston] was in an uproar,” Elizabeth Allston recalled. “Parades, shouting, firecrackers, bells ringing, cannon on the forts booming, flags waving, and excited people thronging the streets.” 

Mississippi had followed suit on January 9, 1861; Florida on January 10; Alabama on January 11; Georgia on January 19; Louisiana on January 26; and Texas on February 1. By the time Lincoln took the oath of office on March 4, 1861, seven southern states had left the Union and formed their own provisional government that protected human enslavement. 

Their move had come because the elite enslavers who controlled those southern states believed that Lincoln’s election to the presidency in 1860 itself marked the end of their way of life. Badly outnumbered by the northerners who insisted that the West must be reserved for free men, southern elites were afraid that northerners would bottle up enslavement in the South and gradually whittle away at it. Those boundaries would mean that white southerners would soon be outnumbered by the Black Americans they enslaved, putting not only their economy but also their very lives at risk.

To defend their system, elite southern enslavers rewrote American democracy. They insisted that the government of the United States of America envisioned by the Founders who wrote the Declaration of Independence had a fatal flaw: it declared that all men were created equal. In contrast, the southern enslavers were openly embracing the reality that some people were better than others and had the right to rule. 

They looked around at their great wealth—the European masters hanging in their parlors, the fine dresses in which they clothed their wives and daughters, and the imported olive oil on their tables—and concluded they were the ones who had figured out the true plan for human society. As South Carolina senator James Henry Hammond explained to his colleagues in March 1858, the “harmonious…and prosperous” system of the South worked precisely because a few wealthy men ruled over a larger class with “a low order of intellect and but little skill.” Hammond dismissed “as ridiculously absurd” the idea that “all men are born equal.” 

On March 21, 1861, Georgia’s Alexander Stephens, the newly-elected vice president of the Confederacy, explained to a crowd that the Confederate government rested on the “great truth” that the Black man “is not equal to the white man; that…subordination to the superior race is his natural and normal condition.” Stephens told listeners that the Confederate government “is the first, in the history of the world, based upon this great physical, philosophical, and moral truth.”

Not every white southerner thought secession from the United States was a good idea. Especially as the winter wore into spring and Lincoln made no effort to attack the South, conservative leaders urged their hot-headed neighbors to slow down. But for decades, southerners had marinated in rhetoric about their strength and independence from the federal government, and as Senator Judah P. Benjamin of Louisiana later wrote, “[t]he prudent and conservative men South,” were not “able to stem the wild torrent of passion which is carrying everything before it…. It is a revolution...of the most intense character…and it can no more be checked by human effort, for the time, than a prairie fire by a gardener’s watering pot.”

Southern white elites celebrated the idea of a new nation, one they dominated, convinced that the despised Yankees would never fight. “So far as civil war is concerned,” one Atlanta newspaper wrote in January 1861, “we have no fears of that in Atlanta.” White southerners boasted that “a lady’s thimble will hold all the blood that will be shed” in establishing a new nation. Senator James Chesnut of South Carolina went so far as to vow that he would drink all the blood shed as a consequence of southern secession. 

Chesnut’s promise misread the situation. Northerners recognized that if Americans accepted the principle that some men were better than others, and permitted southern Democrats to spread that principle by destroying the United States, they had lost democracy. "I should like to know, if taking this old Declaration of Independence, which declares that all men are equal upon principle, and making exceptions to it, where will it stop?” Lincoln had asked in 1858.

Northerners rejected the white southerners’ radical attempt to destroy the principles of the Declaration of Independence. They understood that it was not just Black rights at stake. Arguments like that of Stephens, that some men were better than others, “are the arguments that kings have made for enslaving the people in all ages of the world,” Lincoln said. “You will find that all the arguments in favor of king-craft were of this class; they always bestrode the necks of the people, not that they wanted to do it, but because the people were better off for being ridden…. Turn in whatever way you will—whether it come from the mouth of a King, an excuse for enslaving the people of his country, or from the mouth of men of one race as a reason for enslaving the men of another race, it is all the same old serpent….”

Northerners rejected the slaveholders’ unequal view of the world, seeing it as a radical reworking of the nation’s founding principles. After the Confederates fired on Fort Sumter, Lincoln called for 75,000 to put down the rebellion against the government. He called for “loyal citizens to favor, facilitate, and aid this effort to maintain the honor, the integrity, and the existence of our National Union, and the perpetuity of popular government; and to redress wrongs already long enough endured.”

Like their southern counterparts, northerners also dismissed the idea that a civil war would be bloody. They were so convinced that a single battle would bring southerners to their senses that inhabitants of Washington, D.C., as well as congressmen and their wives packed picnics and took carriages out to Manassas, Virginia, to watch the Battle of Bull Run in July 1861. They decamped in panic as the battle turned against the United States army and soldiers bolted past them, flinging haversacks and rifles as they fled.

For their part, southerners were as shocked by the battle as the people of the North were. “Never have I conceived,” one South Carolina soldier wrote, “of such a continuous, rushing hailstorm of shot, shell, and musketry as fell around and among us for hours together. We who escaped are constantly wondering how we could possibly have come out of the action alive.” 

Over the next four years, the Civil War would take more than 620,000 lives and cost the United States more than $5 billion. By 1865, two-thirds of the assessed value of southern wealth had evaporated; two-fifths of the livestock— horses and draft animals for tilling fields as well as pigs and sheep for food— were dead. Over half the region's farm machinery had been destroyed, most factories were burned, and railroads were gone, either destroyed or worn out. But by the end of the conflagration, the institution of human enslavement as the central labor system for the American South was destroyed. 

On March 4, 1865, when a weary Lincoln took the oath of office for a second time, he reviewed the war’s history. “To strengthen, perpetuate and extend [slavery] was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union even by war while the government claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorial enlargement of it,” he said. “Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with or even before the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph and a result less fundamental and astounding. 

“Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces but let us judge not that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered—that of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes.”

“Both parties deprecated war but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive, and the other would accept war rather than let it perish,” he said. 

“And the war came.” 

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[theyanderespecialist]

Base Yandere Yoruichi Headcanons: She Was Your Pet, You Are Hers (+Scenario)

#Yandere #YandereYoruichi #YandereBleach #YandereHeadcanons #YandereScenarios #Scenarios #Headcanons #Bleach #BleachYoruichi #Yoruichi #Yoruichixreader #GenderNeutralReader #Reader 

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back with another chapter, Bleach theme! I hope that you all enjoy this chapter here muffins!]

(Disclaimer: Yoruichi is not yandere in canon, this is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all. Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine, just do not be illegal or gross about it. Also, remember to separate headcanons from canon and fiction from reality! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life.)

-Base Yandere Headcanons with Yandere Yoruichi X Gender Neutral Reader-

.She is playful and laid back most of the time.

.She had been born a noble and was captain of squad 2.

.Though she does not act like the other nobles in the soul society.

.She also can be very flirty.

.When she met you, she was stunned.

.She watched you in her cat form, taking advantage of you not knowing she is a cat.

.Being able to give biscuits to your boobs and to lay on your chest and lap.

.When she does reveal herself to you, she loves to make you fluster always showing you her naked form and making you freak out in embarrassment.

.She also does not like to wear clothes and will longue in your home in little to none or completely naked.

.She can be serious when it is needed.

.She is also protective of you.

.Keeping you safe and sound is her goal.

.Though she as a yandere is very playful and teases you happily.

.She is also the dom in the relationship most of the time.

.She does not mind courting you and being the one to take the lead.

.She can be firm and seductive with you.

.She also will do what it takes to keep you safe.

.If that means locking you away to keep you safe she will.

.Your safety is very important to her.

.She adores you and knows she has to be hard on you when it is needed.

.She is the yandere that can go from playful and sweet to firm and in control.

.It is a harsh contrast sometimes.

.She would deal with rivals firmly, taking care of them very seriously.

.She would confess to you, in a very serious way.

.Shocking you, but you know she means it.

.If you say yes, life will be very good, you will be a sweet couple and she will keep you forever.

.If you say no she is going to still watch you in your cat form keeping you safe and seducing you until you love her.

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS now onto the Scenario, I am going to do it with Yoruichi revealing herself to you!]

(No One's POV)

You get back from a long day at work. You just wanted to take a hot bath, and pet your cat while you ate dinner, and watch TV. You walk in and look at him. He is looking at you with that same serious look.

"Hey sweetie, I know I am late, and let me get you some milk, then I will make us a bath." You tell him, and he watches you as you get the milk.

You pet him as he laps up the milk. Then go to the bath running the water. Not letting it get too hot so it does not burn him. You never checked if he was a boy or girl, but you swear you heard him meow in an almost human male voice. You hear him come in and start to remove your clothes. Suddenly there is smoke, and you feel someone wrap their arms around you! You scream and then hear a woman.

"Oh, come now, I thought you be used to me by now." You hear her say and turn around.

Your cat is gone, but there stands a beautiful woman. Wearing the collar you got for your cat. "Who are you?" You ask, blushing and realizing she is naked.

"I am Yoruichi, your "pet" Cat." She says, leaning down.

"But my cat is a boy!" You exclaim! "And how can a cat be a person!?"

"Your cat was always female, and you never checked."

She blushes more at that. "O-Oh..."

Your face goes even more red, and she smirks. "Also, there is a lot you are going to learn about me. Just Know I am yours, and I am going to make you mine (Name)~ You belong to me~" She tells you and pulls you into a kiss.

You squeak in the kiss, and she smirks, hands on your hips. You were now hers, and she was never letting you go~

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS Another chapter is done! I hope you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!]

[dailyanarchistposts]

A.3.7 Are there religious anarchists?

Yes, there are. While most anarchists have opposed religion and the idea of God as deeply anti-human and a justification for earthly authority and slavery, a few believers in religion have taken their ideas to anarchist conclusions. Like all anarchists, these religious anarchists have combined an opposition to the state with a critical position with regards to private property and inequality. In other words, anarchism is not necessarily atheistic. Indeed, according to Jacques Ellul, “biblical thought leads directly to anarchism, and that this is the only ‘political anti-political’ position in accord with Christian thinkers.” [quoted by Peter Marshall, Demanding the Impossible, p. 75]

There are many different types of anarchism inspired by religious ideas. As Peter Marshall notes, the “first clear expression of an anarchist sensibility may be traced back to the Taoists in ancient China from about the sixth century BC” and “Buddhism, particularly in its Zen form, … has … a strong libertarian spirit.” [Op. Cit., p. 53 and p. 65] Some, like the anti-globalisation activist Starhawk, combine their anarchist ideas with Pagan and Spiritualist influences. However, religious anarchism usually takes the form of Christian Anarchism, which we will concentrate on here.

Christian Anarchists take seriously Jesus’ words to his followers that “kings and governors have domination over men; let there be none like that among you.” Similarly, Paul’s dictum that there “is no authority except God” is taken to its obvious conclusion with the denial of state authority within society. Thus, for a true Christian, the state is usurping God’s authority and it is up to each individual to govern themselves and discover that (to use the title of Tolstoy’s famous book) The Kingdom of God is within you.

Similarly, the voluntary poverty of Jesus, his comments on the corrupting effects of wealth and the Biblical claim that the world was created for humanity to be enjoyed in common have all been taken as the basis of a socialistic critique of private property and capitalism. Indeed, the early Christian church (which could be considered as a liberation movement of slaves, although one that was later co-opted into a state religion) was based upon communistic sharing of material goods, a theme which has continually appeared within radical Christian movements inspired, no doubt, by such comments as “all that believed were together, and had all things in common, and they sold their possessions and goods, and parted them all, according as every man has need” and “the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and of one soul, not one of them said that all of the things which he possessed was his own; but they had all things in common.” (Acts, 2:44,45; 4:32)

Unsurprisingly, the Bible would have been used to express radical libertarian aspirations of the oppressed, which, in later times, would have taken the form of anarchist or Marxist terminology). As Bookchin notes in his discussion of Christianity’s contributions to “the legacy of freedom,” ”[b]y spawning nonconformity, heretical conventicles, and issues of authority over person and belief, Christianity created not merely a centralised authoritarian Papacy, but also its very antithesis: a quasi-religious anarchism.” Thus “Christianity’s mixed message can be grouped into two broad and highly conflicting systems of belief. On one side there was a radical, activistic, communistic, and libertarian vision of the Christian life” and “on the other side there was a conservative, quietistic, materially unwordly, and hierarchical vision.” [The Ecology of Freedom, p. 266 and pp. 274–5]

Thus clergyman’s John Ball’s egalitarian comments (as quoted by Peter Marshall [Op. Cit., p. 89]) during the Peasant Revolt in 1381 in England:

“When Adam delved and Eve span, Who was then a gentleman?” The history of Christian anarchism includes the Heresy of the Free Spirit in the Middle Ages, numerous Peasant revolts and the Anabaptists in the 16th century. The libertarian tradition within Christianity surfaced again in the 18th century in the writings of William Blake and the American Adam Ballou reached anarchist conclusions in his Practical Christian Socialism in 1854. However, Christian anarchism became a clearly defined thread of the anarchist movement with the work of the famous Russian author Leo Tolstoy.

Tolstoy took the message of the Bible seriously and came to consider that a true Christian must oppose the state. From his reading of the Bible, Tolstoy drew anarchist conclusions:

“ruling means using force, and using force means doing to him whom force is used, what he does not like and what he who uses force would certainly not like done to himself. Consequently ruling means doing to others what we would not they should do unto us, that is, doing wrong.” [The Kingdom of God is Within You, p. 242]

Thus a true Christian must refrain from governing others. From this anti-statist position he naturally argued in favour of a society self-organised from below:

“Why think that non-official people could not arrange their life for themselves, as well as Government people can arrange it nor for themselves but for others?” [The Slavery of Our Times, p. 46]

This meant that “people can only be freed from slavery by the abolition of Governments.” [Op. Cit., p. 49] Tolstoy urged non-violent action against oppression, seeing a spiritual transformation of individuals as the key to creating an anarchist society. As Max Nettlau argues, the “great truth stressed by Tolstoy is that the recognition of the power of the good, of goodness, of solidarity — and of all that is called love — lies within ourselves, and that it can and must be awakened, developed and exercised in our own behaviour.” [A Short History of Anarchism, pp. 251–2] Unsurprisngly, Tolstoy thought the “anarchists are right in everything … They are mistaken only in thinking that anarchy can be instituted by a revolution.” [quoted by Peter Marshall, Op. Cit., p. 375]

Like all anarchists, Tolstoy was critical of private property and capitalism. He greatly admired and was heavily influenced by Proudhon, considering the latter’s “property is theft” as “an absolute truth” which would “survive as long as humanity.” [quoted by Jack Hayward, After the French Revolution, p. 213] Like Henry George (whose ideas, like those of Proudhon, had a strong impact on him) he opposed private property in land, arguing that “were it not for the defence of landed property, and its consequent rise in price, people would not be crowded into such narrow spaces, but would scatter over the free land of which there is still so much in the world.” Moreover, “in this struggle [for landed property] it is not those who work in the land, but always those who take part in government violence, who have the advantage.” Thus Tolstoy recognised that property rights in anything beyond use require state violence to protect them as possession is “always protected by custom, public opinion, by feelings of justice and reciprocity, and they do not need to be protected by violence.” [The Slavery of Our Times, p. 47] Indeed, he argues that:

“Tens of thousands of acres of forest lands belonging to one proprietor — while thousands of people close by have no fuel — need protection by violence. So, too, do factories and works where several generations of workmen have been defrauded and are still being defrauded. Yet more do the hundreds of thousands of bushels of grain, belonging to one owner, who has held them back to sell at triple price in time of famine.” [Op. Cit., pp. 47–8]

As with other anarchists, Tolstoy recognised that under capitalism, economic conditions “compel [the worker] to go into temporary or perpetual slavery to a capitalist” and so is “obliged to sell his liberty.” This applied to both rural and urban workers, for the “slaves of our times are not only all those factory and workshop hands, who must sell themselves completely into the power of the factory and foundry owners in order to exist; but nearly all the agricultural labourers are slaves, working as they do unceasingly to grow another’s corn on another’s field.” Such a system could only be maintained by violence, for “first, the fruit of their toil is unjustly and violently taken form the workers, and then the law steps in, and these very articles which have been taken from the workmen — unjustly and by violence — are declared to be the absolute property of those who have stolen them.” [Op. Cit., p. 34, p. 31 and p. 38]

Tolstoy argued that capitalism morally and physically ruined individuals and that capitalists were “slave-drivers.” He considered it impossible for a true Christian to be a capitalist, for a “manufacturer is a man whose income consists of value squeezed out of the workers, and whose whole occupation is based on forced, unnatural labour” and therefore, “he must first give up ruining human lives for his own profit.” [The Kingdom Of God is Within You, p. 338 and p. 339] Unsurprisingly, Tolstoy argued that co-operatives were the “only social activity which a moral, self-respecting person who doesn’t want to be a party of violence can take part in.” [quoted by Peter Marshall, Op. Cit., p. 378]

So, for Tolstoy, “taxes, or land-owning or property in articles of use or in the means of production” produces “the slavery of our times.” However, he rejected the state socialist solution to the social problem as political power would create a new form of slavery on the ruins of the old. This was because “the fundamental cause of slavery is legislation: the fact that there are people who have the power to make laws.” This requires “organised violence used by people who have power, in order to compel others to obey the laws they (the powerful) have made — in other words, to do their will.” Handing over economic life to the state would simply mean “there will be people to whom power will be given to regulate all these matters. Some people will decide these questions, and others will obey them.” [Tolstoy, Op. Cit., p. 40, p. 41, p. 43 and p. 25] He correctly prophetised that “the only thing that will happen” with the victory of Marxism would be “that despotism will be passed on. Now the capitalists are ruling, but then the directors of the working class will rule.” [quoted by Marshall, Op. Cit., p. 379]

From his opposition to violence, Tolstoy rejects both state and private property and urged pacifist tactics to end violence within society and create a just society. For Tolstoy, government could only be destroyed by a mass refusal to obey, by non-participation in govermmental violence and by exposing fraud of statism to the world. He rejected the idea that force should be used to resist or end the force of the state. In Nettlau’s words, he “asserted … resistance to evil; and to one of the ways of resistance — by active force — he added another way: resistance through disobedience, the passive force.” [Op. Cit., p. 251] In his ideas of a free society, Tolstoy was clearly influenced by rural Russian life and aimed for a society based on peasant farming of communal land, artisans and small-scale co-operatives. He rejected industrialisation as the product of state violence, arguing that “such division of labour as now exists will … be impossible in a free society.” [Tolstoy, Op. Cit., p. 26]

Tolstoy’s ideas had a strong influence on Gandhi, who inspired his fellow country people to use non-violent resistance to kick Britain out of India. Moreover, Gandhi’s vision of a free India as a federation of peasant communes is similar to Tolstoy’s anarchist vision of a free society (although we must stress that Gandhi was not an anarchist). The Catholic Worker Group in the United States was also heavily influenced by Tolstoy (and Proudhon), as was Dorothy Day a staunch Christian pacifist and anarchist who founded it in 1933. The influence of Tolstoy and religious anarchism in general can also be found in Liberation Theology movements in Latin and South America who combine Christian ideas with social activism amongst the working class and peasantry (although we should note that Liberation Theology is more generally inspired by state socialist ideas rather than anarchist ones).

So there is a minority tradition within anarchism which draws anarchist conclusions from religion. However, as we noted in section A.2.20, most anarchists disagree, arguing that anarchism implies atheism and it is no coincidence that the biblical thought has, historically, been associated with hierarchy and defence of earthly rulers. Thus the vast majority of anarchists have been and are atheists, for “to worship or revere any being, natural or supernatural, will always be a form of self-subjugation and servitude that will give rise to social domination. As [Bookchin] writes: ‘The moment that human beings fall on their knees before anything that is ‘higher’ than themselves, hierarchy will have made its first triumph over freedom.’” [Brian Morris, Ecology and Anarchism, p. 137] This means that most anarchists agree with Bakunin that if God existed it would be necessary, for human freedom and dignity, to abolish it. Given what the Bible says, few anarchists think it can be used to justify libertarian ideas rather than support authoritarian ones and are not surprised that the hierarchical side of Christianity has predominated in its long (and generally oppressive) history.

Atheist anarchists point to the fact that the Bible is notorious for advocating all kinds of abuses. How does the Christian anarchist reconcile this? Are they a Christian first, or an anarchist? Equality, or adherence to the Scripture? For a believer, it seems no choice at all. If the Bible is the word of God, how can an anarchist support the more extreme positions it takes while claiming to believe in God, his authority and his laws?

For example, no capitalist nation would implement the no working on the Sabbath law which the Bible expounds. Most Christian bosses have been happy to force their fellow believers to work on the seventh day in spite of the Biblical penalty of being stoned to death (“Six days shall work be done, but on the seventh day there shall be to you an holy day, a sabbath of rest to the Lord: whosoever doeth work therein shall be put to death.” Exodus 35:2). Would a Christian anarchist advocate such a punishment for breaking God’s law? Equally, a nation which allowed a woman to be stoned to death for not being a virgin on her wedding night would, rightly, be considered utterly evil. Yet this is the fate specified in the “good book” (Deuteronomy 22:13–21). Would premarital sex by women be considered a capital crime by a Christian anarchist? Or, for that matter, should “a stubborn and rebellious son, which will not obey the voice of his father, or the voice of his mother” also suffer the fate of having “all the men of his city … stone him with stones, that he die”? (Deuteronomy 21:18–21) Or what of the Bible’s treatment of women: “Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands.” (Colossians 3:18) They are also ordered to “keep silence in the churches.” (I Corinthians 14:34–35). Male rule is explicitly stated: “I would have you know that the head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man; and the head of Christ is God.” (I Corinthians 11:3)

Clearly, a Christian anarchist would have to be as highly selective as non-anarchist believers when it comes to applying the teachings of the Bible. The rich rarely proclaim the need for poverty (at least for themselves) and seem happy to forgot (like the churches) the difficulty a rich man apparently has entering heaven, for example. They seem happy to ignore Jesus’ admonition that “If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me.” (Matthew 19:21). The followers of the Christian right do not apply this to their political leaders, or, for that matter, their spiritual ones. Few apply the maxim to “Give to every man that asketh of thee; and of him that taketh away thy goods ask them not again.” (Luke 6:30, repeated in Matthew 5:42) Nor do they hold “all things common” as practised by the first Christian believers. (Acts 4:32) So if non-anarchist believers are to be considered as ignoring the teachings of the Bible by anarchist ones, the same can be said of them by those they attack.

Moreover idea that Christianity is basically anarchism is hard to reconcile with its history. The Bible has been used to defend injustice far more than it has been to combat it. In countries where Churches hold de facto political power, such as in Ireland, in parts of South America, in nineteenth and early twentieth century Spain and so forth, typically anarchists are strongly anti-religious because the Church has the power to suppress dissent and class struggle. Thus the actual role of the Church belies the claim that the Bible is an anarchist text.

In addition, most social anarchists consider Tolstoyian pacifism as dogmatic and extreme, seeing the need (sometimes) for violence to resist greater evils. However, most anarchists would agree with Tolstoyians on the need for individual transformation of values as a key aspect of creating an anarchist society and on the importance of non-violence as a general tactic (although, we must stress, that few anarchists totally reject the use of violence in self-defence, when no other option is available).

[cryptidsncurios]

AU: Crimson Mist

( Supervillain AU )

(Biographical information in the au: night surgeon is the same for this au. However, this is set in a DC/Marvel/superhero kinda stuff universe, therefore containing all kinds of supernatural elements with infinite possibilities.)

Having struggled until the age of 18 to make his mark, Kimbley began to delve into the underbelly of society, getting involved in various illegal dealings and becoming quite wealthy in the process. Eventually, he captured the attention of a secret society known to very few outsiders as “The Alchemists.”* These are not your average criminals, however; they revealed to Kimbley another side of the world little known to humanity—a world rich in the supernatural.

Thus far, very few humans are aware of the truth of the Alchemists' existence—but they considered that Kimbley could be one of those exceptions, based on his already impressive prowess.

However, the Alchemists had to test him first, through the use of "The Gate": a portal into another realm from whence horrific, eldritch wonders originate, and the Alchemists draw their power. Providing him with a Red Stone---a fragment from The Gate itself that would allow him to traverse into that realm---they sent Kimbley to discover his true power. If Kimbley could survive, he would be taken into their ranks---but if not, he would be swallowed by the Infinite Horrors.

Obviously he survived.

In fact, he managed to drag an entire piece of skin from an eldritch creature out of those depths.

Needless to say, he was in.

After gaining the Alchemists' approval, Kimbley was able to create his own secret base of operations on this strange side of the world, all while maintaining a strong status in the normal criminal underground—and, on top of that, keeping up an innocent persona in the “real” world.

The Alchemists dubbed him “Crimson Mist.”

Of course, Kimbley holds no personal allegiance towards The Alchemists. Self-serving first and foremost, his motives driven purely by his psychopathic desires, he will remain compliant so long as they provide him with the means to continue his “hobbies.”

Bonus facts:

His visitation into The Gate was all that Lovecraft bs (indescribable tessellations of inconceivable shapes and blobs, etc), but his mind was fit to delve into these horrors, and allowed him to extract a visceral piece of one of those creatures' manifestations. Which just kinda looks like a scab in the physical world. Don't worry, he gussied it up and made it look presentable in its corporeal form.

"Crimson Mist" is a title wrought with numerous homages: the red hue of the piece of flesh from the creature he encountered, his fondness of blood and violence, the fine splatters of blood appearing as a "mist" on the air---it's all connected and quite purposeful. The Alchemists don't mess around with their naming strategies.

The Red Stone is now embedded into his chest, and where he had touched the creature, his palms are forever etched with the symbols that would provide his alchemical abilities: the marks of the Sun and the Moon.

The eldritch flesh he stole from within The Gate isn't necessarily sentient, but it is in-tune with Kimbley, as it sort of "imprinted" on him upon manifesting in the real world. It's almost like an extension of Kimbley that is on his body at all times, and is bound to Kimbley like some kind of... weird membrane. When it appears, it fashions itself into a "cape," which unfurls into a crimson swath. It's lined with all kinds of creepy-nastiness (to be explored later), and he can store an infinite amount of items within it.

* atm i don't have anything fleshed out for the Alchemists but it'll all somehow be connected to Dante or Father and the Homunculi or whatever, just let your imagination run WILD

(Information subject to change or updates during the development of this AU)

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Did dwarf planet Ceres originate in the asteroid belt?

by Max Planck Society

The dwarf planet Ceres has a diameter of almost 1,000 kilometers and is located in the asteroid belt. In the television series "The Expanse," Ceres gained new fame as the main base of the so-called 'belters': in this series, which is based on real physics, humans colonize the asteroid belt for mining.

Ceres is no less prominent in the real world either. For a long time, however, it was not entirely clear whether the dwarf planet had formed in the asteroid belt or whether it had migrated inwards from the edge of the solar system. A research team led by the Max Planck Institute for solar system Research in Göttingen has found ammonium-rich deposits in the Consus crater in data from NASA's Dawn space probe, which reveal a lot about Ceres' origin.

Dwarf planet Ceres is an unusual "inhabitant" of the asteroid belt. With a diameter of around 960 kilometers, it is not only the largest body between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter; unlike its rather simple "fellow inhabitants," it is also characterized by an extremely complex and varied geology. Years ago, NASA's Dawn space probe discovered widespread ammonium deposits on the surface of Ceres.

Some researchers assume that frozen ammonium played a role in the formation of the dwarf planet. However, ammonium is only stable in the outer solar system, which indicates an origin far from the asteroid belt. However, new findings from the Consus crater speak against this.

Freezing vulcanism

Ceres appeared to have been the scene of unique cryovolcanism until recently—and probably still is. The underlying data was obtained by NASA's Dawn space probe when it studied Ceres up close from 2015 to 2018. The data point to an eventful past in which Ceres changed and evolved over many billions of years.

Light-colored, whitish salt deposits can be found in several impact craters. Deposits in the Consus crater could indicate ammonium-rich material that has reached the surface from the depths of the dwarf planet due to Ceres' volcanism. More precisely, researchers believe the deposits are remnants of a brine that has seeped to the surface from a liquid layer between the mantle and crust over many billions of years.

Images and measurement data from the Consus crater, which the team has now analyzed in greater detail than ever before, now show such material that is yellowish in color. The presence of ammonium, therefore, does not necessarily indicate an origin in the outer solar system—Ceres could have formed where it is orbiting today.

A crater within a crater

Conus Crater is located on Ceres' southern hemisphere. With a diameter of around 64 kilometers, it is not one of the dwarf planet's particularly large impact craters. Images taken by Dawn's scientific camera system, which was developed and built under the lead of the MPS, show a circumferential crater wall that rises about 4.5 kilometers above the crater floor and has partially eroded inwards.

It encloses a smaller crater covering an area of about 15 kilometers by eleven kilometers that dominates the eastern half of Consus' crater floor. The yellowish, bright material is found in isolated speckles exclusively on the edge of the smaller crater and in an area slightly to the east of it.

As the new analysis of data from the camera system and the VIR spectrometer suggests, the yellowish bright material in Consus Crater is rich in ammonium. In traces, the compound, which differs from ammonia by an additional hydrogen ion, is almost omnipresent on the surface of Ceres in the form of ammonium-rich minerals. The research is published in the Journal of Geophysical Research: Planets.

In the past, scientists believed that these minerals could only have formed through contact with ammonium ice in the cold at the outer edge of the solar system, where frozen ammonium is stable over long periods of time. In closer proximity to the sun, it evaporates quickly. Ceres must therefore have formed at the edge of the solar system and only later "relocated" to the asteroid belt, they inferred.

The current study now shows for the first time a connection between ammonium and the salty brine from Ceres' interior. The team argues that, therefore, the dwarf planet's origin does not necessarily have to be in the outer solar system. Ceres could also be truly native to the asteroid belt.

Ammonium from the depths

The researchers assume that the components of ammonium were already contained in Ceres' original building blocks. As ammonium does not combine with the typical minerals in Ceres' mantle, it gradually accumulated in a thick layer of brine that extended globally between the dwarf planet's mantle and crust.

Cryovolcanic activity caused the ammonium-rich brine to rise repeatedly over the course of billions of years, and the ammonium it contained gradually seeped into the large-scale phyllosilicates of Ceres' crust. Phyllosilicates, which are characterized by a layer-like crystal structure, are also widespread on Earth, for example in clayey soils.

"The minerals in Ceres' crust possibly absorbed the ammonium over many billions of years like a kind of sponge," explains MPS scientist Dr. Andreas Nathues, first author of the current study and former Lead Investigator of Dawn's camera team.

There is much to suggest that the concentration of ammonium is greater in deeper layers of the crust than near the surface. The few places on the surface of Ceres where conspicuous patches of the yellowish-bright material can be found outside Consus Crater are also located within deep craters.

As the current study shows in detail, the impact that created the small eastern crater only 280 million years ago is likely to have exposed material from the deep, particularly ammonium-rich layers in Consus Crater. The yellowish-bright speckles to the east of the smaller crater are material that was ejected as a result of the impact.

"At 450 million years, Consus Crater is not particularly old by geological standards, but it is one of the oldest surviving structures on Ceres. Due to its deep excavation, it gives us access to processes that took place in the interior of Ceres over many billions of years—and is thus a kind of window into the dwarf planet's past," says MPS researcher Dr. Ranjan Sarkar, a co-author of the study.

TOP IMAGE: Arriving at its destination: This illustration shows how the Dawn space probe reaches the dwarf planet Ceres. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech

CENTRE IMAGE: Consus Crater is located in the southern hemisphere of dwarf planet Ceres. The most striking structure in its interior is a smaller crater (“floor crater”) in its eastern half. A flat central mountain rises up in the center of Consus Crater. Credit: Max Planck Society

LOWER IMAGE: The yellowish bright material, marked here as “yBM”, is found exclusively on the edge of the smaller crater and in its immediate eastern vicinity. Credit: Max Planck Society

[dickinfectionbez]

also on ao3

It was a common misconception that immortality was permanent.

If you looked at it closely, all that immortality was, it was a flash freeze. Healthy cells frozen in time, forming the base on which others modelled themselves. Every immortal had an expiration date. They just had to figure out when.

Valentino had discovered his immortality after falling off his horse mid battle, trampled and stabbed; he lay on the battlefield all but dead. He was nothing more than the bastard son of a nobleman. He had hidden himself in a cave, unable to die of starvation but unsure of what to do next. He couldn't show his face to his father, the man not even acknowledging him in front of aristocracy. Luca was the legitimate son, and so had been showered with everything Vale craved. So there he remained, curled into a ball, waiting to be disturbed. Luca would come for him soon, in search of his older brother. But he didn't. Nobody had come, leaving Valentino with nothing but the darkness that surrounded him.

Max Biaggi was the one who found him. Vale believed it was pure luck, Max believed it was fate that the two immortals found each other. Seeking shelter during a particularly vicious storm, a habit that had stuck with him from the time caves were the only shelter humanity had. Max was taken aback at Valentino. His mouth wide open when he realised how long he had isolated himself. Valentino had not spent a few weeks in the cave as he thought, but instead had spent nearly a century hidden away. Biaggi had clocked Valentino from his clothes and how he spoke. The dialect had died out decades ago, the clothes now worn by children during dress up.

Max took pity on Vale, he looked at his angelic curls and was reminded of his own child. One who had passed aeons ago, Max's family, now nothing but cave paintings and bones. He took him under his wing, enveloping Vale into the small close-knit society of other immortals. Well, those who hadn't died out. Those who followed the rules.

Immortality was uncharted territory with one singular rule.

One single chain looped around their wrists; don’t eat meat. Nobody knew why. It was their only rule. A sacred rule that lay in the back of all their minds. Immortality paid for with a lifetime’s worth of meat. Vale knew that. Max Biaggi knew that. They all knew. It was the last thought in Max’s mind, face down in the bowl of stew Valentino had made him. Salty broth filled his nose, Vale watching him drown in the bowl. It was pork snout that brought the mighty Max down, not venison fit for a scholar he wanted to be, but discarded pork. A death Valentino saw fit for the caveman Max was.

With their one rule, came their one warning.

When you get the vision, don't fight it. Another phenomena was the vision. A generic name for what basically was the end of the road. The end credits to their lives. It was rare, so very rare that Valentino didn't believe in it. The vision was just a weakness that could be exploited. Max showed him his soft belly and Valentino ever the actor played the part. All he did was prove himself right, no weaknesses should be shared.

But Max Biaggi had a vision. He would die, Valentino sitting in front of him, finger circling his glass with a grin. Max knew he would die at Vale's hand, but not how. He couldn't fight it. Sete had, ignoring everything that he had forseen, only for every decision of his leading to his demise. It was just him and Vale, the blade of death oscillating between them before landing Max. So he lay in the river of his future, following his vision until he sat at the table, a bowl of stew in front of him.

Valentino, the last known immortal, isolated himself once more. Becoming a hermit on a ranch instead of in a cave. Max and Sete recorded their lives and knowledge in books. So Vale did the same, but unlike the pair he did this out of spite not for the betterment of those who lived normal lives. He wrote everything down because history was made by the victors and he had won.

But then came the stragglers. The few who had wormed their way into his heart. His own mortals who saw him as Valentino the ranch owner. Not Valentino the bastard, Valentino the undying or Valentino the murder. He was now Vale the racer. There was young Cele, whom he had found in his barn trying to keep warm. Pecco and Franky who had dragged each other to his door, blaming the other for a theft that had occurred. Two wayward babes who only had each other. The theft had been committed by a young Mig, who unwillingly came clean. Bez had come to him as an apprentice, replacing his previous one. They were his boys, his family and the ones he vowed to protect from the viciousness of life as much as he could. He could not protect Luca but at least he could protect them.

Life had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. The boys helping Vale tend to the fields during the day and racing each other on the dirt track at night. Nothing changed until two men, completely unknown to anyone else, had taken residence in a nearby plot of land. Joan Mir was nothing special, disappearing from sight after a week. Marc Marquez had captured Valentino’s eyes. Lean with muscle in all the right places, Marc was a constant tease.

It was strange. Vale had flings of course, the last of which was back in the 1980’s with Colin Edwards. Colin was an exchange student, backpacking through the area and into Valentino's bed. Marc drew him in, smoke fogging up his mind whenever Marc was near. This wasn't lust, Valentino not sure if this was love but he knew it was magnetic. They played a game of cat and mouse. Vale pulled Marc in with quick make out sessions with Marc pushing away leaving him hard in his jeans. 

Late at night Vale would see Marc behind his eyes. The younger man on his knees, angelic as the light made him glow silver. A sharp contrast to the red in his hands. Every night Valentino would see the same scene, twisting and contouring until he reached down. In his dreams Valentino would reach down, letting Marc hold the red flesh up to his mouth as he took a bite. A small voice, so familiar to Valentino, almost Max-like, would whisper to him. ‘Times up Valentino. This is your vision.’ 

But this wasn't his vision. This was Vale thinking with his dick. Nothing else. So he would lay in bed, hand wrapped around his cock, pumping up and down with an arm thrown over his eyes, the dark helping him see Marc better in his mind.

Life on the ranch had slowed down. Winter meant no racing or crops to tend too. Franky had left, gone on a road trip. It was strange, he had left without saying goodbye. Marc was the one who had informed Valentino that Franky had left. Cele and Bez had fallen off the face of the planet as well, but Valentino knew how fickle young love was and left them to their own devices. Mig was wrapped up in business, his return unknown.

The ranch was empty, Vale unfamiliar to the silence that reminded him of the cave.

Valentino had tried to invite himself over to Marc's property multiple times, wanting to escape the silence. But every time Marc would rebuff his advances. Instead bringing food to Vale's and setting it on the dinner table to be ignored while they lay on the sofa, toying with each other. Both waiting to see who would break first.

Marc enjoyed their little game, but he was done playing with his food. His mouth was on his prey’s throat and all he had to do was bite. Marc’s rations were running out, Cele now bones buried in his land and Bez a carcass in his front room. Franky was ready to be carved but there was something about Valentino. A voice in Marc’s mind whispered to him, urging him to taste Vale. To ride his dick and press his face into his chest, to pull Vale’s hair as they came, to spit in his open mouth, to bite whatever piece of flesh he could clean off.

When Valentino came over, a playful glint  in his eyes as he asked to come over, Marc saw this as the perfect opportunity. They did their usual dance, Marc slipping out his house, a hand holding Valentino’s as they both made their way to the ranch. 

Inside, Vale made his way to the sofa, penis standing to attention as Marc stripped, walking into his bedroom instead. Valentino pushed Marc onto the bed, one hand holding both his wrists, the other resting on his throat, just pushing his thumb down ever so slightly. Marc rolled his hips, pulling a groan from the man hovering above him. It didn't take long for Valentino to strip his shirt and jorts off, haphazardly throwing them over his shoulder. Marc laughed at that, filling the air like bell charms. But his laugh was cut off into a sharp whine. Vale dove into the mattress, quickly adjusting himself so Marc’s legs were over his shoulders and his balls pressed firmly against his nose. Vale sucked at Marc’s hole, slender fingers ghosting his tip. Marc dug his heels into Vale’s back, hands flying to grip his hair. Valentino licked his thumb, pressing it against Marc’s entrance, watching it expand and contract, begging for him. He laughed at Marc’s attempts to rut against his hand, instead resting his tongue on his weeping head. He reached up, holding his pointer finger above Marc’s mouth. The younger man immediately latched onto it, tongue swirling around it, tasting his own bitter pre-cum. Valentino pulled his finger out Marc’s mouth, immediately putting it in his own before pulling it out with a pop. Marc threw his head back in exasperation before sharply pulling his back off the mattress, completely unprepared for Valentino to fully push his pointer inside. He slowly picked up pace, fucking Marc with rhythm while listening to the pretty sounds coming out his mouth. Valentino took Marc’s dick in his mouth, lapping his tongue around his length.

Marc looked down at Valentino, “Vale please-” he started as Valentino stood up, face right above his, waiting for Marc to finish his sentence. He pushed another finger inside Marc, thrusting faster. Vale watched Marc’s face contort in pleasure before pulling his fingers out. “Vale!” Marc exclaimed, “Papi please,” he begged, pulsing his hole against the pad of Valentino’s thumb. “Please what?” Vale asked, rolling a condom onto his dick, pouring some lube onto his hand and then pumping his dick. “Papi please fuck me.” Marc said, finally able to get the sentence out. Vale pressed his face into Marc’s pecs, “I thought you didn't want me to fuck you Marc.” Vale lifted his head and watched a tear escape Marc’s eye as he pushed two lubed fingers back into him. Marc shook his head, another tear escaping as Valentino began thrusting his fingers again. “I need you Vale please.”

Valentino licked the salty tear off Marc’s face before kissing him softly. He then flipped Marc so he was now on top of him, cock pressed to his hole. “If you really need me then you’ll fuck yourself on me first.” Marc pushed himself down, mouth falling open as he got used to Vale’s dick inside him. The pace was slow, Marc relishing the contact. He looked down at Vale, the voice inside his head chanting at him to bite, to lick, to suck, to mark him. Vale close to cumming grabbed hold of Marc’s hips, slamming up into him. The only sounds in the room now being Marc’s groans and Vale’s moans mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the bed creaking. Marc came first, cum shooting out of his cock and onto Vale’s abs as the older man came right after, his mouth wide open. Marc gripped his chin leaning forwards and spitting into his mouth. Valentino could feel himself getting hard again from just that. He swallowed the spit, sticking his tongue out to prove it. Marc laughed, kissing his nose.

Vale  lay eyes closed, chest heaving with his back pressed to the bed as Marc climbed off him. Vale closed his eyes, groaning as he felt the plush velvet of Marc's mouth around his dick. He bit his lip, suppressing a moan that quickly turned into a shout of pain. Vale looked down, head spinning as he saw half his cock in Marc's mouth, blood spurting out the stub still attached to him.

His head spun, out of shock and blood loss Valentino quickly watched his vision fade to black. 

He woke up, on the bed, Marc curled up to him, fast asleep. If not for the blood splattered sheets and dull throb in his penis, Valentino would have assumed he passed out due to an intense orgasm. Valentino should have run, he should have abandoned the ranch while Marc was sleeping. He could find the boys later. But he couldn't risk anyone figuring out his immortality. But instead he pulled the covers above himself and Marc, shielding their naked bodies from the cold. Marc stirred in his sleep, Vale watching Marc spin as he felt himself slide into the darkness of slumber.

They continued this routine the next day and the day after. They would have sex, Marc would bite his cock, pulling it apart from his body and then they would lay together post-orgasm, watching the muscle sew itself back together. Marc didn't ask any questions, instead just following Valentino’s lead. 

This was nothing but a bad idea but Valentino couldn't pull away. There was something about this stranger that had captivated him. So he let himself be lured away from the safety of the ranch and back into Marc's waiting arms. Marc had to know he was immortal, he had to know. Finally Valentino might have someone who understood him, someone who knew his darkest secret. 

The idea filled him with both dread and excitement. It was exhilarating. Valentino paced on the doorstep, fist outstretched to knock on the door. But the door was unlocked, carefully Vale walked in, freezing in the door frame.

Marc sat on the balls of his feet, in a pile of his own blood. Vale stared at him, head spinning as the smell of iron overloaded in senses. Marc looked up at him, doll eyes reflecting the light as he chewed on a hunk of raw meat.

"I was so hungry." Marc said, blood dribbling down the side of his neck. Valentino turned his head to see the carcass of what looked like a man. Whoever the poor soul was now lay as a pile of discarded pieces, muscle pulled from bone. Vale looked at Marc and then back at the body. "Bez didn't mind. He knew I was hungry." Marc said, innocence lacing his voice. Valentino's arms felt heavy, as if they were made of lead as he recognised the stupid shirt Bez never took off. "I had to work hard. All those tattoos on his body, bitter meat. Joan was better, less tattoos. But they were easy to get rid of. He tasted sweet, so sweet."

Vale shook, he closed his fists, forcing the words out. "Cele? Where's my boy? Where's Franky? Where’s Bez? Marc. Where are my boys?" He screamed the last sentence out. Marc just looked up at him. Unmoving, hands firmly wrapped around a chunk of meat. Valentino felt the need to puke, he spun around, gagging and spitting out chunks of his lunch on the floor near what was left of Bez. He ran out, the rain soaking him as he yanked on his curls. His boys. His family. Gone.

He had failed his one goal. Vale screamed into the sky, how had he failed at keeping his boys safe. He rushed back inside, ready to demand an answer. To avenge his sons. But instead a harsh reality hit Vale. He had lived this before. This was not something he was experiencing for the first time. Vale fell to his knees, Marc crawling to him.

Marc held the raw flesh to Valentino's mouth, the smell making his mouth drool. Valentino's vision. The one thing he ignored for so long was now coming true in front of his eyes.

Vale took a bite, not breaking eye contact. It made his head spin, this was wrong. So wrong. This was the one rule he couldn't break. This wasn't a battle of morals anymore. It was life and death. But god, Marc was there, on his knees offering him what could be a bite of pleasure. How could he reject Marc?

Vale broke eye contact, looking down seeing the haphazardly tied bandages around Marc's thigh. Then he noticed the blood. They both sat in a pool of Marc's blood, his once pink cheeks now a pale white. Bile rose in his mouth, panic flooding his veins as Marc's eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Valentino held Marc's limp body, rocking back and forth. His throat was raw from screaming, eyes puffy. He cupped Marc's face kissing him sweetly as a familiar voice whispered in his ear. Vale crawled back, dropping Marc as he held his ears. The voice grew louder, urging him to listen. Vale tucked his head into his knees, hands dropping down to his side as he accepted his fate.

He dragged himself to Marc's body, kissing his shoulder before biting down on his neck, pulling muscle away. This was his death, his vision, his end.

Franky woke up, an arm chained to the wall. He shook his head, trying to shake the feeling of dread as he tried to recount his actions. In his memories, he saw Marc, standing above him with his knife, carving away at his thighs and his chest. Franky glanced down, head pounding as he saw his thighs looking normal.

What? How?

He should be dead.

[translationandbetrayals]

Post War Anime and the effects on Japanese culture.

It’s well known that Japanese animation starts way back in the 1900s but it’s after World War II that we see a drastic change in the ways of their storytelling.

Japan had witnessed firsthand the horrifying power of the American nuclear weapons, and the atomic blast left scars physically and mentally on Japanese society.

Following the war, American censorship practically forbade the Japanese from reporting or featuring it in fiction and nonfiction, but when the occupation period was over and inspired directly by the release of the American film King Kong (1933), Japan produced their very own monster movie, Godzilla (1954), being the first films that talked about what happened at the end of WWII. Producer Tomoyuki Tanaka said, "The theme of the film, from the beginning, was the terror of the bomb. Mankind had created the bomb, and now nature was going to take revenge on mankind."

Anime on the other hand was a little slower in addressing those themes.

Post war period soared Japan in ruins and as a facto colony of the United States left, Japan after 18 years was rebuilt regained their independence and their economy was stronger than ever, making Japanese society totally changed with their culture and technology unifying the nation, witnessing the creation of one of the most important animation at the time, Astro Boy (1962) making the show a surprise hit, starting an anime boom and a period of intense competition for TV audiences. The success marked the beginning of a new kind of anime industry.

Some very well-known animes that depicts these themes are:

Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind (1984), directed by Hayao Miyazaki. Set one thousand years from now, the Earth is ravaged by pollution and war. In the Valley of the Wind lives Nausicaä, Princess of her people. Their land borders on a toxic jungle, filled with dangerous over-sized insects. Meanwhile, two nearby nations are bitterly engaged in a war and the Valley of the Wind is stuck in the middle. It’s important to mention for this film the animator once again created a scene featuring a mushroom cloud, when the giant monster fires its energy beam.

Akira (1988), based on the manga of the same name. The film opens with an explosion of indeterminate origin that wipes Tokyo from the face of the Earth and triggers World War III. In a 2019 Tokyo (now 'Neo-Tokyo') has been rebuilt and is a thriving metropolis. Shotaro Kaneda is the leader of a biker gang, his friend Tetsuo is injured in an accident and taken to a top-secret government facility. He develops telekinetic powers but decides to use them for evil rather than good. He has the same powers as Akira, the force that destroyed Tokyo in 1988, and now it appears that history will repeat itself.

At first glance, Ghost in the Shell (1995) seems to center on the activities of cyborg special agents (some of whom have participated in various military conflicts). In the year 2029 the world has become intensively information oriented, and humans are well-connected to the network. Crime has developed into a sophisticated stage by hacking into the interactive network. To prevent this, Section 9 is formed. These are cyborgs with incredible strengths and abilities that can access any network on Earth.

And Evangelion (1995) In the year 2015, fifteen years after the first and disastrous contact with mysterious beings known as Angels, which resulted in a worldwide cataclysm called Second Impact, which brought the planet to the brink of doom and the entire population was reduced in half. To prevent future angel attacks, the NERV organization in Tokyo-3, developed a series of biomechanical giants called Evangelion. Then it comes to light that the impact was caused due to behind-the-scenes schemes and plots intertwined by the powerful of the world.

Therefore, we can say that these animations, thanks to their storytelling, tell us part of the history of Japan and how Japanese society was able to overcome their traumas through Anime, becoming a form of expression and liberation for the latest Japanese generations.

- Catalina Y. B ✮