#because YES we are a part of ecosystems and YES safety of people does need to come first

[pomodoriyum]

jesus christ. good fire mitigation does NOT mean eliminating every green thing near your home, especially if you live in a grassland or semi-arid area, holy fucking shit. like yes. you are reducing the fire load if there's a really hot fire passing thru your area. but you're also drastically increasing the likelihood of fire in the first place by drying out the soil and increasing the ground temperature in the first place. AND you're increasing your energy expenditure on cooling while ALSO REMOVING ORGANISMS THAT REDUCE CO2 CONTENT IN THE ATMOSPHERE AND COOL AIR TEMPS (also a fire reducing tactic. by y'know. cooling things off AND KEEPING THE SOIL MOIST).

like, there are possibly places where removing vegetation near homes is a good idea. parts of california and desert border areas may be good examples of this. but please for the love of fuck if you don't live in a desert don't remove living vegetation that's near your house, unless it's part of a carefully considered brush-clearing operation in like. an urban and urban-interface space. please for the love of fuck have nuance about these things. I KNOW people are running scared because of the horrific fires that have been raging due to hundreds of years of land mismanagement (due to colonialist genocide and exploitative capitalism). but there is a lot of information being spread around like a one-shoe-fits-all-ecosystems, and that's just not fucking true.

[washington-offical-2]

You guys haven't worked with mint before and it shows

Mint does need to be regulated

You have to consyanltt dog that shit up

It sent root shoots *out of the holes of the pot were the water is meant to escape and spreads like crazy"

And yes while a *good* Gardner can keep mint contained

You forget the flact

Humans

Are idiots

And lazy

And if their given a blanket law that says they can plant whatever

They will

And they won't maintain it well

And it will spread

And it will force other people to move out for safety concerns

Gardeners intruding invasive plants that have destroyed local plant life near our river and the river enjoyment is a huge problem right now in my town and the city is trying to raise money to do an entire ecological reversal but no one will vote for it

Stuff does need regulation

Yes it's a good idea put really

Don't rage against people like

"yes but put some caveats"

Mint is a terroriser as Somone who does Gardner and grows almost all my herbs that I use

I can tell you how nasty some of those plants can be

To were you have to consyanltt be trimming and digging stuff up and trying evryhting to keep it contained

Even *if* your pot it

Especially mint.

And you can't jsut let the roots you tig up or trim.up be tossed to the side

You need to fully seal it in a container and then throw it away

Cause it will grow *anywear*

And the roots themselves can grow hole nee plants

Yes gardening is nice but being aware of the stuff your gardening and it's ecological risk is highly imprortant

And I'm sorry but I do not trust the public to properly care and prevent issues

Just look at how the public handles their pets and their feral pet problems that have came as a result

You need regulation

You always have to write thing with the lowest common denominator in mind

They will always be a dumbass ignorant or even malicious in some cases

Porblems with lint aren't jsut "going into the other person's garden"

Mint doesn't behave like that

It spreads

It spreads quickly and it takes over as Somone who has watched over my lifetime every bit of nature around my city be taken over by blackberries anxious weed and mint

And the fact some people can't even take part our fee but of nature trials that haven't been demolished for more city that we have left because it's not safe for them

Yeah we would need regulation badly on this

You seem to be getting upset at people asking for jsut some extra idk *thought* to be put in based on local areas of caveats to this law

Which like of course that should happen????

No one's saying ban literally everything everywhere

Just have some regulation

And if you let a potentially dangerous plant go unmainted and into other people's protect get hit with a heavy fine

This doesn't mean it a bad idea entirely just hey

We should put some more thought into how this would best be implicated so we don't start something thats potentially really bad

We already don't have enough regulations on what people are doing with home gardens and the issues it's causing or what company's are using as "decorative" plants

So while yes this concept it's nice it doesn't need caveats

It needs careful thought

Just like *everything* does

And testing people like their idiots for saying hey we should do this but *caveats* is kinda weird

You talk about bamboo but that shit proves my point

Bamboo that isn't supposed to be their can outcompeat your native bamboo you have (I don't know the specific of bamboo that is not my expertise would love to learn more of somehow all bamboo loves in harmony this is jsut my general experience around plant conservation with protecting our temperate conifer rainforest ecosystems being really important here as outside of Scotland we basically have the only ones left in the world)

And finding ways to encourage people to use more native plants species would honestly be a really good idea

in my opinion it is essential to make a "right to garden" law that means no one can stop you from growing whatever you want in your yard.

I think it should even apply to renters so a landlord is required to allow you to have a garden

And I think this can become a reality

[whiterosebrian]

Letter To Democrats

I felt the need to do something besides raising awareness of environmental, indigenous, and socio-economic issues. I’ve decided to compose and then mail multiple printed copies of a letter to multiple politicians across the USA. I did wonder if I should copy-and-paste the letter to social media profiles like I did for the one that I wrote to President Biden. Ultimately, I decided that posting the letter would serve two purposes. First, I wanted to let indigenous activists know that they have another willing accomplice. Second, this could provide a decent template for anyone who also feels a need to write to political leaders and put pressure on them to take much-needed action. Without any further ado…

Greetings,

I am writing a generic letter to send to assorted politicians across the United States. For reasons that I will articulate over the course of this letter, I felt a serious need to address as many members of the American political leadership as possible. I do not intend to call you out personally. If you do take it as a personal callout, please consider why you feel that way.

The reports of wildfires, heat waves, and floods have filled many, many observers with existential terror. Some have even expressed utter despair over whether the world will be inhabitable by any form of life. At times I have been tempted to join the despair, to give up hope of ever leaving a beautiful legacy for future generations. For the sake of all the people of the world, I must fight that temptation. I need to do my part to fight for the future.

There are a large number of activists trying to protect the environment. However, they need help from people who have the power to make really concrete changes. That is why I am writing to you and other Democratic politicians. That does sound very partisan, but the sad fact is that the Republican party is almost a lost cause at this point. I wish to be proven wrong about that. The fact is that it already engaged in brutal obstruction during the Obama administration. A sinister side to the base already started emerging during that time as well. With the rise of Donald Trump, the much of its leadership and nearly all of its electoral base have become increasingly unwilling to offer the kind of compromise needed for a functional democracy.

The Democratic party as a whole has been criticized as very weak in opposing the radicalizing Republican Party. The current President has spoken of a desire for restoring national unity. That desire is certainly laudable in itself when Trump blatantly stoked resentment and division. Again, however, the Republican party and its core supporters have shown a complete unwillingness to work with any opponents in any way. They view their opponents as subversive enemies that need to be crushed underfoot. The Republican party has inched towards neo-fascism at a time when neo-fascism is mainstreaming around the world. The Republican party has also already been beholden to the selfish interests of major corporations for decades. It even seeks to magnify the already dire influence of corporations chiefly responsible for pollution. Its propaganda outlets outright deny pollution and mislead millions of people.

Some Democratic politicians have also been criticized as going along with corporate interests and watering down legislation meant to oppose corporate influence. By now it has become clear that corporate elites do not have the safety of the world and its human and nonhuman denizens in mind. By now it has become clear that they must be reined in for the greater good. The only language that major corporations even comprehend is money. Here I arrive at the first main point of this letter: I urge you to work with other Democratic leaders to divest from major corporations and their executives, especially those most directly responsible for polluting the Earth. I’ve also seen proposals that corporations be forced to contribute to removing as much pollution as possible. Quickening the transition away from fossil fuels is crucial.

However, alternate energy sources are not enough. Switching from gas-powered cars to electric cars is not enough. Building solar or wind farms in place of coal-burning power plants is not enough. Extraction and consumption cause their own serious problems. The problem of environmental degradation has roots that are far too deep and complicated to address here, though I will touch upon one later. Going hand-in-hand with corporate influence are the bad social and urban infrastructures that do not encourage sustainable lifestyles. I barely even know where to begin in this regard. Cities are too often built for cars and not people. Most people have to drive carbon-spewing cars to work at jobs that are not well-suited to their needs in order to pay their bills and feed their families. Too many people are left in poverty or near-poverty, some people are more-or-less isolated in suburbs, and a tiny handful are virtually untouchable in their wealth and privilege. Healthy food is not always accessible, and even when it is, it often has to be shipped very far from the source.

My second main point is this: in addition to transitioning to cleaner energy, the very infrastructure of our society needs to reformed. Local communities need to be lifted up so that they can better care for themselves without the need for distant figures constantly having to provide for them through convoluted supply chains. It’s true that right-wingers speak of “small government” with the unspoken agenda of leaving corporate oligarchs and ultra-conservative clergy to rule over ordinary human beings. Nonetheless, I believe that, at this point, government needs to assist in rebuilding communities so that they can eventually leave denizens to stand on their feet and care for each other. The pandemic, along with the poor responses of many local officials, has shown the need for communities to engage in mutual care.

I will confess that this exhortation is the vaguest one in this letter. I lack in-depth education on such matters. I bring it up in order to further nudge you in a direction that would be far better for the Earth and its people. I can offer one example of what must be done that is slightly clearer: helping communities establish gardens and small-scale farms to better feed themselves.

On a very important side note, this nation needs to divest from the military as well. The largest and most powerful military in history is known to be among the largest polluters on earth. Too many politicians seem to ignore how massive the military already is an insist on subsidizing it at the cost of actually building a peaceful and prosperous society.

I further wish to discuss the need to center indigenous peoples in renewing our society. No, I am no indigenous myself. I simply wish to point to their wisdom. Yes, the sagely magical Indian who is one with Mother Earth is a crude stereotype, and I have no intention of reinforcing it. With that said, I follow a number of indigenous writers, activists, spiritualists, and influencers on social media. I learned about how many indigenous people are attempting to reconnect to previously outlawed and hidden heritages. The stereotype could be rooted in reality.

In most cases, those heritages include animistic spiritualities, in which aspects of the natural world, from plants to animals to waters to stones, are seen as having spirits. Furthermore, these aspects of the natural world are seen as relatives to humans. I should note how some well-meaning white people, wishing to bond with the earth instead of submitting to organized religion, appropriate these indigenous spiritualties and associated practices. Indigenous writers will encourage such people to instead delve into their own pre-Christian heritages, which have similar animistic philosophies, however obscured by time they may be. I have actually been doing just that—though I won’t elaborate because I don’t want to center myself.

You may be asking, what is the relevance said common thread of the spiritualities of indigenous peoples? That animism seems to go hand-in-hand with methods of land care that developed over generations of trial and error, along with the principles behind those methods. With the subjugation and expulsion (and worse) of the land’s original caretakers, though, these practices fell into obscurity. The most dramatic example, perhaps, is the suppression of controlled burnings on the western coastline leading to the wildfires that we have seen in recent years. Indeed, the different lands of different indigenous nations need their own subtly distinct approaches, based on ecosystems, geographies, local histories, and general senses of place. Indigenous activists and figureheads are calling upon governments to heed their words on not only conservation but also regeneration.

One of the main demands that indigenous activists make is for the return of their lands, full sovereignty over them, and the facilitation of cultural revival. Yes, that is a very simple manner of justice and righting a historic wrong. It has become evident that their wisdom is a crucial piece of the puzzle of solving environmental problems as well. Simple “colorblind�� or “globalized” liberalism won’t suffice when working for social or environmental justice. Indigenous activists argue that colonialism is at the root of so many of our world’s problems. Many of them even outright state that the “colonial state” in itself is a problem. I can see how colonialism has promoted the rise of an all-devouring capitalism and perpetuated it. The grim historical fact of how the enslavement of Black people and the elimination of indigenous peoples contributed to building this nation remains a grim historical fact.

I myself am figuring out the world and learning many truths, but I am sympathetic to people who have borne the brunt of colonialism. I welcome the humanistic achievements of modernity and utterly oppose fundamentalism and fascism, I assure you, but I’ve come to accept that the modern world is broken. Simple progress won’t heal the world. “Big government” certainly has a role to play in mobilizing the needed social changes, such as what I’ve alluded to above, but the “colonial state” needs to ultimately divest its own power.

I’ll try to summarize my points now. Major corporations and economic elites need to be drastically reined in and disempowered (along with the military). The transition to renewable energies needs to be quickened—but also needs to be accompanied by drastic changes to infrastructures and supply chains so as to result in less extraction and consumption. Localized communities need to be empowered so they can better care for themselves without much out faraway aid. Indigenous peoples need to be given their lands back, be elevated to leadership roles in caring for and regenerating said lands, and be empowered so they can rebuild their cultures. Settlers should learn from them as well. In the end, the state and the socio-economic system that it has upheld need to recede—not for billionaires or grand inquisitors or dictators, but for ordinary people and the earth. In truth, humans are meant to be a part of nature, and the generational challenge is for humanity to reconcile with the rest of nature.

This all may sound idealistic or radical. This past summer has shown us that we shouldn’t settle for anything less than radical social change. This nation, which has been a major world power for over a century, needs to be radically reimagined. This all may sound vague as well. I have little education in politics and governance apart from what I’ve tried to learn for myself across the internet. That is all the more reason for people like you—people with more real-world power than I—to push along radical social change. This letter is meant to raise awareness of your duty as a leader. A leader is meant to be a guide, not a dominator. There’s a chance that you could be recorded in history as a leader who did what was necessary to make the world’s healing and renewal possible.

Thank you.

You may call me Brian Solomon Whiterose.

[skeletorific]

How do you think the Beforus Ancestors(Aradia, Tavros, Sollux, Karkat, Nepeta, Kanaya, Terezi, Vriska, Equius, Gamzee, Eridan and Feferi)were like? I love your Alternian Ancestors stuff so far and was curious what you Interpretation of the Beforus ancestors were.

oh HELL yes I am about this.

Aradia Megido, the Tombkeep: I see Aradia as being born a bit later than the others, while the coddling laws are at their strongest. Rather than put up with that, as quickly as she can she removes herself from Beforan society to the very outskirts. Like their Alternian counterparts, Beforan’s are often avoidant of the notion of death. However, in their case, it is not because death is a failure of the dying, but a failure of those around them. It is not seen as a natural cycle but something to be abhorred and feared at all costs. As such, tombs are kept, but they are far away from the rest of civilization and usually talked about in hushed tones. Aradia grows up among these tombs, befriending the local ghosts and considers them her own coddling charge. She guards the tombs from any who get too curious, or more often, from well-meaning government officials looking to tear down monuments to such “nastiness”. What they find instead is an angry little girl with powerful psiionics. She becomes something of a bedtime story for young grubs, even long after her passing. They say she still haunts the halls.

Tavros Nitram, the Menager: In parallel to his obsession with Fiduspawn, I see Beforan Tavros as being some variety of animal handler, using his fully fledged wings (and his bronzeblood bankroll) to travel the world and collect rare and exotic creatures to his own plot of land, to tend to and train. Some know him as a kindly soul, treating all beasts with the utmost love and dedication. He seems like some kind of fairy tale figure, surrounded on all sides by animal companions who he communes with. To others, this is reckless ecosystem mixing, but then, what do scientists know anyways. He prefers the hero title a bit more, as it aligns more with his intentions anyways. Eventually one of his expeditions ends poorly, with him being confined to a wheelchair for the remainder of his life. Outwardly he dies content to let his coddler and his animal friends care for him for the rest of his life, but there’s a restless spirit that he passes down to his descendant.

Sollux Captor, The Dronebee: Completely and utterly unremarkable in every way. Sollux contented himself with working his function as a goldblood. His technical ability was fostered at every turn by a Beforan education system eager to see a lowblood embrace their “natural talents”, but while he made minor waves in the programming circles in which he moved with his often unique approach to coding, to most he was just one worker among thousands, very valuable of course! Every worker is valuable :) But ultimately.....not worthy of notice. Which is fine: that’s how Sollux likes it, and more than that if left him time to pursue more personal projects, such as a little game later known as sgrub. Just because he’s not vocally complaining doesn’t mean he’s not compiling a list. From his perspective, Beforan civilization is a ticking timebomb anyways. Why shouldn’t he be the one to start the countdown?

Karkat Vantas, the Advocate: Look, I know we all love revolutionary Karkat, but I think something we forget is that Karkat was pretty pro-system even as late in the game as Act 6. So, for the Beforan model.....well, every system needs its bootlickers. Karkat Vantas becomes a mouthpiece for some lowblood lobbying groups, acting in vocal support of the Empress’s coddling plan. Its not all love of power: legitimately there is a part of Karkat that tries to see how this is good. Healthy. The needs of his friends are being met, they’re safe, and attended to. Surely all of that is worth a little......infantilization, right? He deals with a lot of criticism from other lowbloods for being a sellout, and though he does his best to cultivate a calm unflappable demeanor so craved by Beforans, I guarantee Beforus has more than a few Grubtube compiliations of Vantas meltdowns that Kankri watches when he needs a good cringe. As he got older he slowly began to question the system he’d spent his whole life building, but ultimately lowbloods don’t live long enough for those kinds of regrets.

Nepeta Leijon, the Believer: What, you think clowns have the monopoly on weird religious communes? Nah. To be fair to Nepeta, her commune’s status as a “cult” is probably more indicative of Beforan prudery than anything else. Her sect, the Righteous Assembly of Withdrawn Renegades (or RAWR for short), is dedicated to the principles of free love and a return to the natural. Within the massive tunnel and cave system in which they live, trolls are free to strip themselves of signifiers like caste and clan and live as the gods intended: covered in dirt, chasing something furry, and flirting furrociously :33. While Nepeta in life insisted there was no leader it was her effect on people that kept them coming back for more, and while the commune purrsisted after her eventual death, ultimately its membership dwindled. Meulin was brought up among some of the last vestiges of it, and some of their old hideouts have been inherited by the Lost Weeaboos.

Kanaya Maryam, The Prioress: Literally, the prior. One of the earliest trolls, widely considered the Matriarch of Trolls in some sense. In her time she revolutionized many of the practices of auxiliatrices, ensuring greater safety for the grubs and greater care for the mother grubs. Many of the norms now in place for jadebloods are in large part due to her own influence. Despite her farreaching influence (and the fact that she left behind a journal of her practices), not much is known about her personal temperament. Quick readers may catch a certain dry sarcasm behind her words, and the especially studious scholar may note slight reference to a few great lovers (and a few great disappearances, *cough* rainbowdrinker *cough*. Her greatest secret is her brief and tumultuous kismesis with Vriska Serket, notorious Mafiosa, but only a very few historians have ever uncovered it. In part, her long shadow may have contributed to her descendant’s eventual anxiety regarding her prescribed role,

Terezi Pyrope, the Gumshoe: Beforan justice is tricky. As opposed to Alternia, there are in fact actual laws in place that aren’t just “don’t fuck with highbloods”, but in many ways its almost more corrupt. More often than not the courts are more concerned with petty infractions than it is with actual injustice, and furthermore, inter-caste tension remains a huge concern that bubbles up in violence. After a few years badgering olives for traffic tickets while watching actual fully fledged crime families get off scott free, well....Terezi had had enough. She took her pursuit of justice into the real world, working as a private detective for hire. She’s notorious for her, erm....quirks, but she’s a fastidious hunter and a careful investigator when she wants to be. She brings em back alive. USU4LLY >:).

Vriska Serket, the Mafiosa/Mapm8ker: Let’s be clear, a lot of Vriska’s society was laid on top of her and it was abuse from which she struggled to free herself. However, what does one do when freed from society, but seek to shake things up a bit. She’s still a thief of Light, make mistake, and she slowly works up the ranks from card shark working the tables to in charge of a small army of foot soldiers, smuggling mindhoney to goldbloods (who have been restricted “for their own good”) and sopor slime to clowns. She’s the flamboyant head of her own criminal empire, with the code of only stealing from those she deems worthy and a reckless approach to life

However, most of that isn’t generally known. And to the outside world, she’s just a simple cartographer, travelling the world to assemble some nice, safe, boring maps. Indeed, when her journal was finally unearthed by her descendant, she couldn’t help but wonder if these exploits were true, or simply a story her ancestor liked to imagine herself into on her off days. Tough to say.

Equius Zahhak, the Showpony: Alright, y’all knew I couldn’t stay away from that one. Equius was something of a puzzle to his descendent when Horuss actually went back through his (meticulously kept) caste records. By all accounts, he was an intelligent, capable, hardworking man. A tinkerer in his off hours, he was a pioneer in the field of robotics, and by all accounts not romantically unsuccessful. And yet, the man never seemed concerned with making a name for himself. Instead, over the course of his long life, you could perpetually find him at the shoulder of someone more powerful and important than he was. Was he....a bodyguard? Trophy husband? Butler? Hard to say, but there he was. Trotted out like the loyal steed he was.

Gamzee Makara, the Borrower: A peculiar legend of clownery regards a strange “hobo looking motherfucker what will wander into your hive and be all and snatching up your most secretous things for the messiah’s wider purposes”. So far as is known, he is not malignant, although its not unknown for a troll to occasionally disappear while running after him to retrieve their stolen items. Even without that possible threat, its usually not worth it to chase after him: the things he takes have a way of ending up back in your hands, one miraculous way or another. Gamzee is an itinerant monk, wandering the countrysides. Some passerby he’ll occasionally offer aid to, or proverbs. Which might be helpful if anyone could decipher what they mean. Ultimately he’s a happy man, if prone to fits of temper and bouts of melancholy. Still, as he notes, he’s got motherfucking friends all over these globes :o) what’s a motherfucker gotta be lonely for?

Eridan Ampora, the Magician: Well.....the Empress doesn’t exactly need Orphaners. As such, the violets are largely left to their own devices. Given they’re often prone to creative endeavours, Eridan found his own outlet. He became renowned as an illusionist, and at one point his shows were capable of drawing large and massive crowds, who would gasp in awe at his tricks and wonder if the violet really did have a trace of magic in his blood. He seemed to like the idea, eventually penning a popular grubling children’s series about a boy with those very abilities (which eventually found its way into the young hands of his descendent). However, celebrity wasn’t necessarily the best mix with Eridan’s temperament. He was prone to some truly disastrous quadrant outings, as well as developing several more addictive habits to drown out the oddly oppressive loneliness that permeated him. These bad habits were only worsened by the worst thing to ever happen to Eridan Ampora: the internet. With access to videos of his performance, most were pretty easily able to spot the trick of it, and hell hath no fury like a cyberbullying teen going after a b list internet celebrity. He took it as a sign to swear off the craft forever and lived the rest of his life on book residuals, alone, drunk, and miserable

Feferi Peixes, Her Highness: Not as much to say about this one, as Feferi is the one we have the most information about. Like it says on the tine, she instituted the coddling system on Beforus. This was widely considered a Bad Idea by those victimized by it, but you couldn’t pay anyone in Feferi’s court to tell her that. The Empress is sweet tempered and excitable, it’d be like telling a child 12 perigree night is cancelled. Perhaps the great irony is that as Feferi gets older, the thing that frustrates her most is that it feels like no one takes her seriously as a person. Merely as a figurehead. Still, she lives her life on Beforus ultimately convinced this is what’s best for the greater good. 

[teenyfish]

Marine Biology Story of the Day #7

Whew, it’s been a little while.  I’ve been out in the field for the last week collecting samples for my current research project--I’m exhausted when we get home, so I haven’t been motivated to write a post. 

Today, we are going to talk about what it’s like to live on a working sailing vessel (Part 1).

So I’ve mentioned before that I was on a research trip that traveled from Hawaii to California doing research on open ocean ecosystems and marine plastics.  It was an undergrad program called Sea Semester.  If you want to learn more about the research we were doing on this trip, you can check out these posts here: https://teenyfish.tumblr.com/post/622213314459615232/marine-biology-story-of-the-day-4 and https://teenyfish.tumblr.com/post/622033107021873152/marine-biology-story-of-the-day

So the really interesting thing about this program is that they do all of their research from tall ships.  Like super modernized pirate tall ships. 

And on top of doing all of the science, we had to sail this damn thing across thousands of miles of ocean.  Yes, we had first mates and a captain that knew what they were doing, but we were the crew. 

And we had our work cut out for us. 

We did a lot of prep “on shore” while we were taking some marine biology courses.  We also took a celestial navigation course, in which we learned to use landmarks and celestial bodies to navigate outside of using a GPS, which is what most modern ships use. 

Above: me learning how to use a sextant on the moon. 

we also had to learn a lot of safety drills, including how to put a “gumby suit” on in only a minute in order to abandon ship--these are designed to retain body heat when submerged, similar to how a wet suit does. Another common drill we did onboard the ship was the man-overboard drill, where we would throw a soccer ball with a flag on it overboard and all 31 crew members on board would have to be pointing at the soccer ball so we would not loose sight of our man.  In anything less than idea conditions, we could loose sight of that soccer ball in like, 5 minutes.  It was important to be quick and efficient with these drills. 

above: me goofing off in a gumby suit.  I’ts harder to get on than you think. 

Life on board the ship was structured with watches, similar to my NOAA shark trip, except there were 5 watches that you rotated through.  We had day watch from 7 am to noon, afternoon watch from noon till 7 pm, evening watch from 7 pm till 11 pm, mid watch from 11 pm to 3 am, and morning watch from 3 am to 7 am.  So my sleep schedule was SCREWED UP because we did not have set schedules AT ALL. 

We were a crew of 8, with one chief scientist, and one mate, and then the 6 of us young dumb kids. 

For each watch, we either served under the mate as crew, or under the chief scientist as assistant scientists.  It would rotate every watch, so we could learn how to do it all.  As a crew member, we were expected to set sails, be at the helm, be at the bow to watch out for floating objects at night so we wouldn’t hit them, and clean the ship (aka swab the decks).  We used 100% nautical language.

Sails are usually set by two people, one hauling up on the halyard and the other letting out the slack.  But occasionally, we would have to set the mains’l (main sail) which is the largest sail on the ship, and it would take like everybody on board. 

Here’s me with the mains’l, so you can get an idea of how big it is. 

So the cool thing about our ship is that we could set all the sails from the deck, so we didn’t have to climb into the crows nest/upper masts to set a sail.  That didn’t stop people from doing it--in fact, even I did it, and I’m pretty afraid of heights.  In order to do so, we had this harnesses that we are all wearing in the pictures--and you clip into the ladder as you go.  Considering sailors in the 1800 did nothing of the sort, I think that was a major upgrade. 

above: crew member out on the edge--i was too chicken for this.

below: a great shot my friend got of the ship from above. 

So actually being at the helm of a 134 ft vessel is not actually as scary as you think it is when you are out in the middle of the ocean with nothing to hit.  It was just a matter of keeping an eye on your heading on the compass, and making sure the ship stays within 5 degrees of your heading.  Your heading will be a degree on a circle, for example, 0 is North, 90 is East, 180 is South, and 270 is West.  The wheel (the helm) itself is sort of heavy, and it connects to a rudder below the boat, which on this one was HUGE, so you do need to put in some muscle when adjusting.  Turning this thing completely around was a challenge, because it involved setting sails, adjusting sails, and involved the entire crew to accomplish--I would get into that a little bit more but that’s a whole ‘nother paragraph so if you want to know the deets, let me know in the comments. 

Above: a cutie on the helm.  

Below: the compass with it’s red glow at night. 

It was a ton of work, and we were exhausted everyday.  But, my favorite watch, and maybe my favorite thing about being on this ship, was mid-watch (11 pm - 3 am).  Was it in the middle of the night? Sure.  Do I have a chronic illness that makes this difficult?  Yes.  But it was the one time of day where everything was quiet, and you could just be on deck and enjoy the stars--and the stars were amazing, like you couldn’t even believe.  You could very clearly see the milky way like you do in professional space photos, and sometimes the water would light up too with bioluminescence, so you’d have stars above, and stars below. 

And, sometimes, if you got morning watch, you’d get a chance to see a sunrise and hang out with a pod of 300+ common dolphins.  

as usual, I have so much more to tell you, but I’ll save it for part 2 next week when we talk about what it was like to be on the science crew! As always, PLEASE feel free to ask me any questions about our trip or our research or any of my other posts.  

[gay-jesus-probably]

Non-Ridiculous Cold Weather PSA

Because I’ve been seeing a lot of hysterical PSA posts about surviving the cold weather, and while watching americans be terrified about negative temperatures is deeply amusing to me, the polar vortex is still dangerous and some of the ‘advice’ going around has been useless, stupid, or just straight up wrong.

So. Some calm advice from your local canadian that’s actually helpful, because let’s be real here there’s a reason that all this panic has been aimed at American’s, and that’s because we’re already used to this shit so we’re not freaking out.

First, debunking the stupider advice I’ve seen:

You don’t have to sleep naked. That’s weird and unnecessary, but I’ve actually seen people advising that. You’re not going to freeze to death in your sleep because you sweat. Wear your damn pajamas. Wear socks and a hoodie to bed if you want. Pile on the blankets. You don’t need to take survival precautions overnight in a heated building, and even if you did, nudity wouldn’t do anything.

Don’t build an igloo. Why the fuck have I even been seeing that as a suggestion? If your home loses power for heating, first step is to pick a single room, and have everyone in the house cuddle up together under a mountain of blankets. Body heat, yo. And if you still feel there is a legitimate risk of freezing to death, leave the building AND GO SOMEWHERE WITH HEATING. If you try to build a fucking igloo to survive, you’ll waste your time and energy getting cold and wet fucking around in the snow, and if you manage to actually create a structure (which is unlikely), it’s probably going to fucking collapse on you when you try to use it, and then you’re freezing cold and soaking wet. And that’s if you don’t suffocate under the snow. Don’t build a fucking igloo. I don’t remember who was suggesting that, but I’m going to kick your ass.

Your dogs can still go outside. Obviously, not for long, and under supervision, but you don’t need to get a fucking kiddie pool full of grass for them to go in. Seriously? It’s not a hurricane. You're not in mortal peril the second you step outside. Your dog is covered in fur, it can handle going outside for a few minutes, doing its business, and then coming back in immediately. If you’re that worried, get a dog coat and put it on them, or cuddle your dog to warm it back up once you’re back in. If you have to go out along with your dog... well sucks to suck, but you can also put on a coat and handle a few minutes of cold.

And now the actual advice that you need, that I haven’t seen anyone getting.

Wear a hat. Cannot emphasis how important a warm hat is. Canadian’s aren’t wearing toques as a fashion statement (tho we do look good), it’s cause your head is a major heat loss, so you stay a lot warmer if you cover it up.

Anything wet will drain heat. If you have the choice between wet clothes and nothing, take nothing. Do not leave a heated building with wet/damp clothing. Do not leave a heated building with wet/damp hair. On that note, if you DO leave the house with wet hair, it will freeze, and it can break. That’s not a safety thing thats just a tip, don’t touch your hair if it freezes, just wait for it to thaw on its own unless you want an impromptu haircut.

Wool/fleece/any fuzzy thing isn’t always the best idea. If it’s dry? Perfect, excellent insulator, good warm winter gear. But it gets wet, which it easily does, you’re fucked. Mitts/gloves, coat, boots, and snowpants should all be waterproof. Everything else, there’s not really any point lmao. Non-waterproof gear is better than nothing, but be careful about getting snow on it.

There is no style to winter gear. There is no shame in wearing weird shit to stay warm. There is no such thing as too bundled up. Seriously, when it’s this cold, ideally you’re not exposing any part of your body to the outdoors. I live in the prairies, and regularly see people wearing ski goggles out and about during cold snaps. Myself included. Seriously, you don’t need to look good, you just need to be warm. I promise anybody looking at you is just wishing they’d thought of that. ...Just remember to remove all facial coverings the moment you enter a bank, or any kind of business establishment, because otherwise you will be giving the wrong impression about your reasons for being there.

Do not sleep in shoes/boots. Never do that. I don’t care how cold your feet are, put some socks on and suck it up. Sleeping in boots messes with your circulation, and makes it worse. Take em off.

Do not use alcohol to warm up. It will seemingly induce warmth, but it actually leaves you colder. ...That’s not a metaphor, that’s just a fact, it will feel like it’s warming you up, but it doesn’t actually help. Go for an actual warm drink or something.

Bring your cats inside. You shouldn’t have outdoor cats at all! Do you know how much shit can kill them out there? More than that, they’re an invasive species, they’re devastating the ecosystem. But they’ll freeze to death in the cold, so bring them in and (ideally) never let them out again, you’re an irresponsible pet owner.

On that note, stray cats often use cars for shelter in the cold. Before starting up your car, check the wheels, and then bang on the hood. I’ve seen warnings about checking the wheels already, but cats can also get under the hood, and will curl up there for warmth. If the car is turned on while a cat’s on the engine block... well, I think you can guess it’s not pretty. Smack the hood of your car before you get in; anything in there will wake up and bolt, or at least announce its presence. Either way, you don’t accidentally shred a cat. Apologies for that mental image.

If you’re homeless: I can’t give you any specific locations cause idk, check other posts for that, but seriously you do not want to be on the streets right now. Libraries are good, as are coffee shops/restaurants that are open 24/7. Libraries you can’t get kicked out of, but businesses... worth a shot, honestly. You might need to try and buy something, and honestly I would advise just straight up asking the employees if you can camp out there all night despite only buying one thing at the start, but strong odds says they’ll let you stay. Be honest and polite, apologize for the imposition, and you’re more likely to be left alone all night. The employees had to go through the cold to get to work, they know it’s miserable out. Or go to a shelter or warming station or something. Seriously. DO NOT SPEND THE NIGHT OUTSIDE.

If you have exhausted every single option and are stuck outside overnight. Do not sleep. Do not stop. It is going to be the most miserable night of your life, and you will be lucky to survive, but it’s not impossible. Keep walking. Doesn’t matter where you go, just that you are on your feet and moving. Movement creates body heat, and that is desperately needed. If you fall asleep, you will never wake up again. You’re probably going to be tempted to do it anyways, you will definitely cry, and it will literally feel like torture, but keep going. Survive. Nobody should ever have to endure an ordeal like this, but if there’s no other options, staying on your feet is the only way to survive. If you pull through the night, find a local library, and go in the second it opens; you’ll need to warm up and get some sleep, and a library can’t kick you out.

I know that last one sets something of a grim tone, but seriously, stay calm. You’re going to be fine. That’s the worst case scenario advice, and I hope to god nobody needs to use it. If you’re homeless, yes you should definitely be worried about this, and take every possible precaution to avoid being out on the streets overnight. If you’re not homeless... Seriously calm the fuck down, you’re okay. I know, for most of us it would literally be warmer in Antarctica, or on fucking Mars. But what else is new? Up north we’re surviving this shit every year. The only time frostbite isn’t on the table is May to August, and I mean really even then.

Anyways, stay calm, stay safe, and stay warm. Worst case scenario, you can always try singing the Canadian national anthem, it gives you an automatic resistance to cold. If nothing else, you’ll definitely come out of this understanding why Tim Hortons is such a Thing here. My condolences to all of you for having to endure this cold without any timmies. We’ll pour one out in your honour.

Oh yeah and if you start hearing things like gunshots, despite it being America it may not actually be gunshots this time; when it’s really cold sometimes trees explode. Liquid expands when it freezes, so if enough of a tree freezes... boom. Don’t approach until the trees stop exploding, tree shrapnel can fuck you up. Have fun!

[espanadiarywriter]

So. Much. Rage.

I have so much to say and so little time to say it.. For weeks I was honestly too despondent to write a blog post. I thought about it, but just couldn’t muster the energy. (Part of it is that I am still getting non-effective treatment for my back and hip pain that seems to make things worse. But that’s really another story.) Good news though: I’m angry enough to write again.

So what’s happening? In the last week, I’ve flown from a city where people are wearing masks and doing a wide swoop whenever they accidentally come close to a stranger, to a place where apparently COVID doesn’t exist. (Yes, Florida—the land of meth gators and Covid.) Because the governor said it was fine, people congregate inside restaurants as if nothing is wrong. People actively carry masks (but don’t wear them) waiting to be the next “Karen” that someone picks a fight with asking them to be a responsible adult.

Again, I ask, why was this politically beneficial? Why did one political party choose to shun public safety measures that are cheap and easy to implement—they just require people buying into the science of contagion. This willful ignorance just prolongs the economic pain as things get shut down repeatedly. It swamps the already over-burdened, poorly organized health care system in the country. And those of us who are being responsible are like the kids in the class who miss recess because the rest of the kids keep talking. (I get that it was a calculated risk to fly, but we did so following all the precautions we could take. In fact, the doctors we spoke to said we were going above the recommendations to be safe.)

It makes me so mad. Really, this is all because GOP Governors and Congress have to support a narcissistic President who doesn’t want to be told he did a horrific job? I want to move to 7 states simultaneously and vote against their Senators. Could the Democrats do a better job explaining what people should do? When Kamala Harris was asked what is their coronavirus plan, she barely mentioned expanding testing, contact tracing, and getting PPE to health care workers. How about a massive, overwhelming public health education campaign, including messaging from Community Health Workers and other TRUSTED voices in the community that masks are necessary? If no one understands why masks would help, or why and how to social distance, you cannot expect people to change. It took us years to reduce smoking rates, or wear seatbelts, or stop drunk driving. It took a combination of laws and consistent messaging. We need to save people’s lives! (I’m so angry I used an exclamation point. Look what you made me do.)

Which brings me to my next point of rage: the futility of political polarization. Even things that make sense for both parties have been turned partisan (like vote by mail). In Oregon, we have had vote-by-mail for about 20 years and BOTH parties support it. How is this even a thing, the 10-hour long lines to vote? And the gerrymandering, and the “poll watchers” to intimidate voters. We are like a banana republic led by an orange. I made the mistake of watching a little of the banana republic justice confirmation hearings. Senators are just talking, because they know the outcome before the hearing started. (The people thinking there is a chance the outcome will change are cute. Power does everything in its ability to retain power.) Our only hope was that five of the Covid-loving Senators got sick and the hearings were called off. But that didn’t happen.

I need to step back from reading about election coverage, but it’s just so tempting. At the risk of getting ahead of myself, the Democrats are going to have a long road ahead to repair the damage of the past 4 years. And if they don’t win the Senate, Mitch is going to allow exactly nothing to happen. There is so much beyond the two issues of taxes and abortion on the ballot this year. I’m not even talking about specific legislation, but the excessive tribalism. Let’s say you do accomplish all the fantasy items on the progressive wish-list (Puerto Rico statehood, add court seats, abolish the electoral college). Then what? How do you get people fundamentally opposed to changing their way of life, willing to change?

You can’t. You need to stop the ecosystem of fear—the Fox news media cycle feeding frenzy. Our government needs to stop being a night time soap-opera. It occurred to me the other day that I have been overthinking this. Conservatives simply do not want change, of any kind. That’s it. They picture themselves back on the homestead, killing anyone in their way and pulling themselves up by their bootstraps. It’s a myth of course. (I don’t want to digress, but how perfect is it that rally goers were left out in the Omaha cold and had to walk back to their cars. Freedom and independence! You don’t need those socialist busses.) But the myth of American individual freedom is so strong that people won’t wear a tiny piece of cloth on their face. So I think the new Democratic platform should just be, “Hey, you do you, and we will be over here moving the country forward without affecting your way of life. Enjoy the backwater.”

We are now home from the land of humidity and Covid (and family, of course—that’s why we went). Hopefully we did not expose ourselves or others to the virus on our trip. And there’s less than a week left until the big day. I’ve written postcards, donated money, and voted already. Now we wait. Good luck everyone!

[haberdashing]

What A Tangled Web We Weave (1/?)

TMA AU diverging from canon at the end of episode 92. Jon is forced into an arranged marriage by Elias; Martin does what he can to help.

on AO3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

As Jon stayed behind in Elias’ office, the rest of the archives staff slowly headed back to their usual work stations, a gloomy silence filling the air as nobody was entirely willing to discuss what had just happened. Basira, lacking a work station of her own at the moment, simply flopped down on the ground, alternating between flipping through a book she had picked up somewhere between Elias’ office and the archives and engaging Daisy in whispered, furtive conversation.

Martin wondered if he was the only one whose eyes kept drifting towards the door, hoping that Jon was back at the Institute for good, that he’d be joining them in the Archives any minute now. At the very least, he certainly wasn’t the only one who was more than a bit distracted from actually getting any work done; Melanie kept looking at her phone, while Tim was at least focused on his work computer, but appeared to be playing some sort of violent video game on it, one that Martin couldn’t recognize at a glance.

The door did, in fact, open after several minutes, but Martin had to suppress a shiver as he saw that Jon was accompanied by Elias, who looked as smug as ever despite having had a gun pointed at his head only a few short minutes beforehand.

“Apparently I’ll be back here in the Archives for a bit.” Jon said abruptly. No greeting, no explanation, no pretense of being enthused about his return to the Institute. Not that Martin blamed him for that last one, really. It wasn’t exactly an ideal work environment these days, and the events of the past hour or so had made that clearer than ever.

“Oh goodie.” Melanie replied, the sarcasm in her reply as sharp as a knife.

“Glad to have you back?” Martin offered up, uncertainty creeping into his voice as he kept looking between Jon and Elias. If all that was going on was Jon returning to work at the Institute rather than... wherever it was he’d been staying all this time, then Jon could have broken that news himself. Elias’ presence suggested that there was more to this announcement than a simple return to work.

Tim paused his video game, but didn’t actually say anything in response to Jon’s statement, though the glare he directed at both Jon and Elias spoke volumes in and of itself.

“I haven’t told you why I want you back in the building, though, have I?” Elias asked.

It was Elias’ idea. Of course it was Elias’ idea. It made sense, really, given that Elias was Jon’s boss (and boss to the rest of them, Martin supposed, at least by proxy--except Daisy, but then, where exactly she stood after all of this wasn’t entirely clear), but Martin still had to suppress a sigh upon finding that out.

The question had seemed like a rhetorical one, but Jon still responded with a soft “No, you haven’t.”

Tim finally spoke up at that. “Go on, then, boss. Enlighten us.”

(Martin wasn’t sure which had thrown more sarcasm into their voice, Tim or Melanie. Either of them could certainly give the other a run for their money.)

Though the “boss” reference left it open to either Jon or Elias, it was the latter who responded.

“Jon here will be getting married in a month.”

The look of shock on Jon’s face made it clear that this was news to him as much as to the rest of the archives staff.

The room erupted into a series of shouts bleeding into one another until they seemed to form a single cacophonous mess.

“Wait, what?”

“No, that can’t be right-”

“Why isn’t Jon the one telling us this?”

“Jon? Married? Seriously?”

“Who says?”

“And how does this affect the rest of us, exactly?”

Elias cleared his throat, like a schoolteacher commanding a classroom full of unruly pupils, and the room quickly settled back into silence as he spoke up again.

“We’re quickly reaching a crucial junction when it comes to keeping the state of the world as we know it intact, and we’ll need some support in order to maintain both the Institute and Jon’s position within it in the months to come. As a symbol of that support, Jon and somebody connected to one of our allies will marry one another in order to strengthen the link between us.”

A few seconds passed before anyone responded; to Martin’s surprise, it was Basira, eyes now focused on Elias rather than on the still-open book in her lap.

“What does that actually mean?”

Elias sighed, but before he could respond, Jon spoke up, irritation and a strange sort of resignation both evident in his voice.

“If I’m understanding this right, it means Elias is having me married off to somebody I don’t know, who probably has some sort of powers that could kill me, as part of some supernatural alliance deal to stop the end of the world.”

“Yep, that tracks.” Tim added.

“More or less.” Elias responded. “Though there’s no need to worry about your personal safety, Jon. The whole point is that they’ll be here to help.”

“Forgive me if I’m less than overjoyed by the idea of receiving ‘help’ from some mystery person, especially given the track record I’ve got with people claiming they’re trying to help me.” Martin was pretty sure Jon’s glaring at Elias was especially pointed as that sentence wrapped up.

“Overjoyed or not, I’m afraid you’ve got no say in the matter. You will be married in a month’s time. The arrangements have already been made.”

“Hang on, you can’t just do that!”

Even Martin was a little surprised by how loud and passionate his voice became when he spoke up, and a few quick glances around the room revealed that he wasn’t the only surprised one.

“Just because Jon works for you doesn’t mean you can, can decide who he marries, or if he marries, or, or anything to do with his personal life, for that matter! Jon’s still his own person, not just some pawn of yours!”

“Interesting phrasing there; Jon and I actually just finished a conversation about his very... personhood. Or lack thereof.”

God, Martin wanted to punch Elias in the face. Apparently killing him was off the table for the time being, but punching him couldn’t hurt, right?

...oh, who was he kidding? Martin wasn’t generally the one to start a fight, at least not a literal, physical one, and past experience showed that he was much less likely to be the puncher than the one being punched.

It was a nice thought, though, at least.

Elias went on. “I suppose Jon could try to object, if he so chooses, but I suspect that any such effort would end rather... messily. Besides, the Web does have its way of getting what it wants, no matter who protests about it.”

“...the Web? My... my future spouse will be connected to the Web?”

Jon looked unhealthily pale, and Martin was reminded of the arguments the two of them had had before over spiders, how Jon always vehemently defended the point of view that they were nasty little critters that deserved to be killed on sight, no matter how hard Martin tried to explain their place in the ecosystem or his personal liking of them. Martin knew most people weren’t fond of spiders in the least, but Jon... Jon seemed to have an honest-to-God phobia about them.

“Yes. They’re a powerful ally, and they’d be a powerful enemy, too; I think it’s much better to ensure they’re on our side for this operation than risk the opposite. I’m still working out the details with Annabelle Cane, though, so I’m not yet sure whether your betrothed will be Ms. Cane herself or one of her associates.”

Annabelle Cane... that name had come up in one of the statements, hadn’t it? Some arachnophobia experiment gone wrong, a uni student left with too many limbs...

One look at Jon made it clear that he’d made the same connection Martin had. He looked like he was about ready to keel over.

“Are you going to have the rest of us married off too, then?” Melanie asked; a second later, when Elias hadn’t responded, she let out a bitter laugh and added, “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering it.”

“No, I don’t think so. Jon’s a bit of a special case in that regard. But if anything about the situation changes, I’ll be sure to keep you all posted.”

“You’re an asshole!” Tim said, though Martin honestly wasn’t sure whether it was related to the news about Jon’s involuntary marriage or just about... well, about everything Elias did, really.

“Duly noted. Now, unless there’s anything else...”

Elias turned away, but Jon grabbed his shoulder as he reached for the door.

“There’s nothing I can do about any of this?”

“I wouldn’t say that. You can buy yourself a tuxedo, for one thing.”

And with those parting words of wisdom, Elias Bouchard left the Archives, closing the door softly but firmly behind him.

“I... I need to sit down. Process all of this.” Sitting down was probably a good idea, given that Martin still wasn’t convinced Jon wasn’t on the verge of passing out; Jon looked positively ill, worse by far than he’d appeared during their earlier showdown with Elias, and he hadn’t been at his best then either. “I’ll be in my office, but don’t bother me unless it’s urgent, alright? I do not want to talk about this.”

Jon practically stomped off to his office, slamming the door behind him and leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

[bluepenguinstories]

Intention Headaches Chapter Eight

Silver, copper alloy, platinum, titanium. Sleek, metallic. Smooth.

Walls, reinforced with microscopic creatures of machination. Ecosystems of patrons who shivered whenever their elbows interacted with icy table surfaces. Everyone took turns at the idea of adjustment and in their heads, it was the same, wooden, familiar air. Outside the head, the air held a clean, sterile flavor. In the middle of it all, a bartender, joined by two leaders.

“It’s not right,” one, a silver, sly, never shy lady spoke. “The bar isn’t supposed to reflect the rest of the city. We expect certain things. This isn’t one of them.”

“I know,” the bartender gave a tender, never terse, reply. “I don’t like it either, but it’s only temporary until the repairs are finished. Then the image of what people think of when they think of a bar will return.”

She slammed her fist onto the table only to take note of it not feeling like a tree being punched, but rather one’s whole being being tested by unbreakable glass.

“No one comes to the bar for the socialization! Nor for the drinking! It’s not for pleasure, not for entertainment, and under no circumstances does anyone show up for the ‘atmosphere’! No, we all come for the image!” Her rousing speech moved the bartender, but not because of the words, but because someone had requested a drink.

“I agree. Just try to make do.”

“Oh, I am making do! Why do you think I’m here if I’m not? It’s been days, maybe months. Maybe a few hours between a few days and a few months. My sense of time is not dictated by the passage of it, but by the changes made by such passage. Now, pour me a chardonnay.”

“Our ideals intersect,” an earnest elder, pint-size and several pints within his system, took note of the path the silvery lady’s words made. Her face bore irritation at the notion. Her lips were curled in the exact manner one would make to drink a chardonnay.

Two Woolf members spoke over arid spirits, ignoring the airs.

“You wanna hear what happened the other day?”

“Yeah?”

“So I was just outside, it was after the bar closed down and everyone was going home. Streets were empty, I was having a good time, just whistlin’ a tune or two. You know?”

“Yeah.”

“So, like, get this: I see a bucket and for some reason my first instinct was to kick it. I don’t even know why, it was just a bucket, but I just had such a strong urge to kick the bucket.”

“Did you?”

“No. I reasoned with myself. I said, ‘I don’t know what a bucket’s doing out here, but I’m sure I can take it back home and we can find a use for it.”

“Where was I when you brought it home?”

“I don’t know. Probably in your own room. Doesn’t really matter. Anyway, I bring this bucket to our base and Adeline sees it and you know what she says?”

“No?”

“She goes ‘what use do we have for a bucket? We can get water dispensed for us anytime we want!’ And then you know what she did?”

“What did she do?”

“She opened the front door, took the bucket, and kicked it.”

“What? She kicked the bucket?”

“Adeline kicked the bucket! I couldn’t believe it! I’m sure we could have found a use for it!”

Elsewhere, same vicinity, within the same area, an Annie’s green gabled cheeks turned rosie. She stormed through, her legs thunder bolted across the trimmed, impotent floors. She could have slipped, but didn’t. In her mind, she noticed similar material that made up her arms and legs were also part of the tables and floors. Her voice made no such note.

“Why did Dave do it?” She demanded to a group of drunkard chit-chatters. Most of the chats chittered, but in garbled mumbles.

“He probably felt it was the right thing to do,” those few gave their estimation of an explanation.

“Why didn’t you go with him?”

Shoulders, upward, downward.

“Who would we be if all of us were gone?”

She shook her head. “It just makes no sense…”

Hands on her shoulders. She knew who because she didn’t like those hands.

“Such is the ways of men, my darling daughter.” Mother Gothel, as Annie let her thoughts show, stood and smiled in a way that told all about her; protective and distant. Cruel and tender. “Always risking their lives in the name of some non-existent ‘glory’. Now, be grateful you aren’t like that.”

Annie unplaced those hands in order to decrease the tension of her shoulders. She began to walk away, only managing twelve steps before the mother of the Sextons raised a sharp question.

“Do you have nothing to say to me? Dear daughter, do not tell me you cared for this Dave, failed leader that he was.”

However tense, Annie answered. “Of course not; it’s that he gave me many dalmations, dogs that I love very much, and I do not know how I will manage to take care of them.”

Remnants of Wallace chimed, “how many dalmations?”

“About ninety-nine and two, I think. Or maybe ninety-eight and three. I have lost count.”

Mother who leads the Sexton made haste toward the door leading outside the safety of the bar. Her parting words, “I must make haste, I have many machinations to cultivate.”

Annie sat with the remnants, who reminisced.

“Gee, sure will miss boss, I suppose.”

“Yeah, he was always one to hate irony unironically.”

Annie thought of how the table she sat at could have once been a part of her.

Overhead, out of sight, a few tables down, an old man overheard.

“The ways of man, eh...I would have loved to have heard more...mhm…” He stroked the wrinkles of his chin. “I remember being young and well versed in such ways.”

“Aye, as do I,” a comrade of the old man concurred.

“I’ll be turning 27 this year,” old and young divided between face and age.

“Join the club!” Yelled someone, a gang member. Not one in particular.

“Huh?”

“I’ll be turning 27, too!”

Everyone within the diameter of the conversation erupted in laughter.

Ernie, however, scoffed.

“Harold and I are too opposite.”

“How so?” Sylvie, still on a sip, yet paused to simmer in the heat of this elder child. “Don’t the both of your gangs love men?”

“Another whiskey!” Demands from the child. Bar softener went into compliance. Ernie, turned toward Sylvie. “The Crane gang is filled with men loving men, I, however, believe, yes, in, the, ideals, of masculinity.”

“I see...still too old for your skin.”

“I am of the belief that we should devote ourselves only to a woman and a woman only! To fight with nothing but our fists, and deliver to our wives an animal that we have wrestled to death as a trophy!”

Adeline, not too far, added a line.

“As a lesbian, I can get behind this,” she missed the part of the conversation about men and masculinity as she was too busy having her arms around a Sexton gang lady. Sexton lady, name of Ann (not to be confused with Annie) was wrapped around Adeline’s arms and voracious appetite.

“They’re lesbians,” Harold observed. 

Porcupine and a nondescript turtle, stood aside a wall also not too far from Adeline.

“Speaking of which, I started thinking, my good friend, that since I love and respect women, the best way to show my respect is to be a woman. So my name is now Elaine. Same number of letters as Sydney, which you already know not to call me.”

“Correct.” Nondescript.

“I almost went with Esther, but I’ve never been a religious person.”

Riley made a grunt and looked at his surroundings.

“What’s wrong? Do you think we are broken people? No, it’s the system that’s broken. But we must never go against it, because if we do, we’ll all be gone,” Elaine addressed the gesture.

“I’m just here to get drunk…” a nondescript named Riley declared in moaning motions.

Such motions led Riley to the bartender. “Just give me something.” Riley asked of the bartender.

“How poetic,” mused the short earnest.

“Do not talk to me of poetry,” scolded Syl.

“Why so critical tonight?”

“Woolf leader isn’t here, so I must take her place as the scathing one.” Noble, virginal wolf would be pleased.

“Where is she?”

“Had another case of the ailment, aye.”

“What you got against poetry?” Shambled a drunken Harold.

Syl in heat. Heat of passion. Passion is angry. Heat of anger. The height of anger, subdued. Mellow and ready for a silent strike.

“Poets are nothing but liars and thieves. We in gangs have honor, have our convictions. There is no honor among thieves. Poets are not to be trusted.”

Harry broke a bottle against the sterile surface of a table’s edge. “Them’s fighting words! You take what you said and undo your damages!”

“Aye, but it’s true. They pick and choose their emotions, omit certain things to give you an image. It’s what they decide sounds good versus the reality of the situation. Sometimes things aren’t beautiful, but you wouldn’t tell just by reading about it, now would you? I ask, what do we need of poets in these times?”

“Poetry isn’t always beauty, sometimes what’s written is the ugly!”

“Aye. But then it’s just the bad that they want you to see. In hopes that you find the less savory just as much a thing of beauty.”

“But we can use words to inspire hope! To lead!”

“Can you not do that with your actions?”

You can perform a great many things, but cannot do so after your lifetime. Words may last well after all your bones have become dust!”

Syl sipped, simmered in her laughter, soft. Then, “is that all you have? Your words? If your words aren’t preserved, no one will even know they existed. Me, I’m here for a good time, not a long one.”

Ragged, dirty, Harry broke another bottle.

“You wanna go? I’ll gut ya! No one disses poetry ‘round me!”

“Very well,” her lips spread at the prospect, a hidden pistol in her pocket. “But be warned that I do not fear walking at night. Many a time I have conversed with sailors, heard their stories, and went on about my way. I have traveled to the darkest reaches of alleys and had many a gun pointed at me only to walk closer and demand that they pull the trigger, then fire from a weapon of my own before they have time to react. I have felt the grazes of bullets and walked through the smoke of many explosives only to sit here today, taking sip after sip of my drinks.”

Hearth man sank, recoiled, and slinked away to the comforts of the Crane.

“I’m too sober for sophistry,” sighed Syl, then pieced her body out from her stool seat until she stood and stretched. “I’m leaving. My base of operations needs me.”

Bartender swayed open hand as a sign of farewell.

“Before I leave, I’ll say this,” she said, before she left. “There is a reason us gang leaders save for Hemingway’s seldom show up; some of us are made to forget. Drinking brings the truth out.”

Sylvie exited the safety of the bar and entered the safety of the night, just as there always was a night.

“She will return,” Hemingway’s leader stated.

“I know,” said the one tending to the bar.

Less tender was the table Annie sat at, discussing the matter of a mission involving two gang leaders.

“It’s come out that the one responsible for the trafficking of those drugs was an unofficial gang leader of the Cowen gang - a gang made up of three subgangs: the Burroughs, Kerouacs, and Ginsbergs.”

“Yeah, but that’s just a rumor. Everyone knows those gangs are just stories we tell each other at the bar!”

“It came from a report by the Homeowner’s Association. Pretty sure not a rumor.”

“Okay, so what did the leader of the Cowen gang want?”

“Who knows? My guess is what all of us want: just a little bit of romance right before we die.”

“I wish we could have seen what happened…” Annie added to the conversation.

“What good would it have done?”

“Well, what good did it do for Dave to join with the leader of the Kanes?” She looked around. Card sharks still swam in the shallow end.

“He wanted to match her energy, which was funny, since she was always trying to match ours,” Kane fragment figured. Few Kane members sat with Wallaces in solidarity for their fallen.

Annie and the rest of the remnants and shards laughed a keg full of laughter. Bartender had an announcement:

“Since our bar is still being repaired, karaoke night is suspended. Instead, enjoy this simulation.”

 Siri walked up to the counter where the bartender was cleaning glasses. She slumped over, still in an overcoat, her face obscured by a margin.

“One coffee, please…” her voice a low, groggy groaned murmur. Bar served grog, she knew this.

“We serve alcohol,” the bartender told.

“I know this. I want coffee. I’m tired and I’ve been up all night because my gang makes too much noise. They won’t let me move on to the next mission because they’re poking at the last one. It’s insufferable!”

Of course, everyone could see through her.

The bartender served her coffee and she chugged it down. Then, her image faded.

“Thank you for attending the simulation tonight,” the bartender announced on a screen at every table. No one noticed the announcement nor the simulation.

Many were instead focused on the table where Elaine sat and captivated a fair deal of attention.

“Hey boss, tell us the one about the bun in the oven!”

It was a good joke, solid history. One anyone could laugh to. Or snore. Never a dull moment.

“Okay, so it begins with the mixing the ingredients...then you got the dough...then you stick ‘em in and watch as the yeast rises…”

Bartender let everyone know that it was closing time some few minutes after the joke started being told. Long after the bar closed, out on the neon sidewalk, Elaine kept the joke going.

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Sometimes your life gets ruined over a ham sandwich and that’s just how the fuck it goes. Outtake from our home game because this part made us all lose our shit. 

So a triton and a tiefling walk into a bar.

It’s cramped, kind of dark, and there are three reanimated skeletons sitting around one of the tables. They look super dead and super sad about being dead, just peering mournfully into empty drink glasses. There is also a bugbear drinking ale. (Alarming.) And a straight up fiend of some variety peering eagerly at them from behind the bar. (Also alarming.) The triton – who is generally ignorant about the interplanar ecosystems of the surface world – still kens that animated skeletons must be unusual and tightens her dainty and lady-like vice-grip on the tiefling’s arm.

“Ahh! New customers,” says the fiend in a voice that slopes strangely from word to word. “Welcome to the Salted Lich. I am the proprietor of this place—Dornias Voth. Please. Make yourselves at home and purchase a beverage.”

He puts a little flourish on the word ‘beverage’ for no apparent reason.

Blue smiles. Blue has a politician’s smile. She smiles like she smiled at the city guards she hoodwinked with her husband two days earlier. She smiles like it’s pageantry and carefully pulls her taller tiefling compatriot to the privacy of a far table where they sit and she – still smiling and talking somewhat strained through her teeth – says:

“I’ve been on the surface long enough that even I know that’s not normal.”

Rime could tell her, just straight up, that the thing standing behind the bar is probably the most dangerously malevolent thing he’s encountered in his whole life – a life that includes, in no particular order, mind flayers, murderers, and hobgoblin berserkers – but feels like she might wrench his arm off if he does.

So he just flags the proprietor down, casual as anything.

The fiend, upon closer inspection, is wearing a tiny pair of spectacles, perched on the end of a very long, dark, jackal-like snout. Rime nearly misses the nightly price for a room (three gold) because he’s staring at them. The fiend has very fine red robes, stands bi-pedal somewhere over six and half feet and whenever he – Dorias – speaks, the mouth certainly opens and Common tongue comes out, but jackal jaws shouldn’t be able to form consonants properly and he’s puzzled what magic it is that’s doing the work there.

Rime nods… then glances somewhat meaningfully at the pack of skeletons.

Dornias flaps a lazy hand.

“Friends of the previous owner. Sadly he cannot command them anymore, so I just let them hang around. They did not cause any harm. They simply sit there and remember when they were alive.” He straightens the tiny spectacles. “Sad. But… it is their fate.”

Rime hands over the three gold, casts Thaumaturgy, and a fabrication of his regular speaking voice originates from a point somewhere near his head.

“Do you have anything strong and… fun to drink?”

Dornias remains unflapped by the spell usage. “Of course! Of course! I can offer you the Glabrezu Brew. Made from the blood of fallen soldiers in the Blood War?”

A pause.

Blue’s head tilts exactly one inch to the right.

“That… sounds violent,” says Rime, like you turn down a garnish on a side-salad.

“Ah. Then I can also offer Devas’ Tears.” Dornias beams with pride. “Made from the sorrows of one-thousand celestials.”

Another pause.

“Can I have a shot of rum?” says Blue.

“Maybe just a shot of whiskey,” says Rime.

“Do you have anything to eat?” Blue adds when the drinks arrive.

“I have been told that my sandwiches are worth killing someone over,” says Dornias happily, fingers steepled, ears pricked forward. “Not that you would need to. It is merely two silver…”

They order food. (Though Blue confirms no one did, in fact, die for a ham sandwich.)

Dornias stalks smoothly away on long digitigrade legs and goes behind the bar where he very rapidly puts together the ingredients for the sandwiches; he slices fresh bread from a fragrant loaf, lays thick slabs of ham, cheese, and lettuce, lovingly assembling and securing the layers with an olive-garnished toothpick each. Rime props his chin in two hands and absorbs Devil sandwich design with rapt detail.

Dornias reaches for a large glass jar on a shelf behind him. It glows somewhat ominously as he unscrews the lid… and from the briny depths of the jar a screeching voice issues forth, howling, “A THOUSAND CURSES UPON YOUR BLOODLINE. MAY THE DAMNED TEAR AT YOUR SOUL FOR ALL ETERNITY! I SHALL DROWN YOU IN THE RIVER –!”

Dornias pulls out two pickles from the jar, puts the lid back on, and sets both on the sandwich plates.

Blue, upon receiving her plate, kind of unsubtly bats the pickle away from the rest of her sandwich.

Rime casts Thaumaturgy and through it says, “Can I ask what the screaming pickle jar is all about?”

“Oh, is the previous owner.” Dornias fetches the jar and sets it down on the table where Rime and Blue can observe a human skull with jeweled eyes tumbling angrily around inside the jar.

In Infernal Rime says, “What the fuck?”

Dornias, also in Infernal, eagerly explains. “The previous owner bound me to this place as part of a convoluted plot to take over the city, kill the Masked Lords, murder the Open Lord in front of his children, then rule from here as part of his own dark fiefdom.” He says all this while drumming idle claws against the lid of the pickle jar and in the tone of someone recounting a fond anecdote. “Naturally, like someone who thinks of such a complicated scheme he forgot to assure the bindings that held me in place were secure. So, I tore the head from his body and put it in this enchanted jar.”

He pats the jar and the raging skull inside spins furiously and silently.

“But I have found I like customer service!” Dornias beams.“I like seeing the smiles on a patron’s face! So here I stay.”A beat. “Also the binding was good enough that I cannot leave.”

Rime glances at Blue who is smiling and nodding like people smile and nod when they don’t speak a lick of Infernal. Which, given the information just volunteered, is probably for the best. Rime goes on, brows arching upwardly.

“You stay because it’s fun?”

“Oh, well, I suppose with time, a bit of blood, some tears, a lot of sweat, I could probably get myself free but…” He sighs a happy sigh, gesturing widely to the bar around him. “Is easy life. You wipe the counter. You serve the drinks. A horde of pit fiends never bursts through and slaughters the people you are doing the accounting for.” Another sigh. “Is the good life.”

Blue, not understanding any of that, says, “Excuse me? One more shot.”

Rime kind of laughs, falling out of Thaumaturgy into spoken Common.

“So you don’t get a lot of customers, I assume?”

Beneath his question, the passive vocal aberration in his speaking voice puts a hissing reverb in each word. Like a second, softer voice whispering and rasping beneath Rime’s regular speaking voice. Rime’s grinning a little, visibly happy for an opportunity to speak aloud in strange but (weirdly) safe company. Dornias doesn’t bat an eye at the Infernal reverb, just nods thoughtfully.

“Ah, we do not get many clientele, but we are up and coming business. I am certain the chamber of commerce will welcome me soon.” Dornias nods. “It has only been fifty years.”

Rime grins wider, feeling a little of the tension winding out of his shoulders for the first time in a few days actually because, again rather unexpectedly, being a visible weirdo is creating an unprecedented bubble of safety. Who, even the Xanathar gang on their most irritated, is going to start trouble in a bar owned by a barely bound demonic entity with the skull of his summoner in a pickle jar?

The city watch was right -- this is the perfect place to lie low.

“Sounds like you’re winning an uphill battle,” Rime enthuses.

“Yes. As for your other question,” continues Dornias, “Yes, but not in seven centuries.”

Blue glances at Rime and Rime blinks, puzzled, “My other question?”

Your other question,” Dornias insists brightly.

An awkward beat followes. Long enough for Rime to suddenly question their own recollection of a conversation less than five seconds past and say, “Wait, what other question?”

“The one you asked in your other voice.”

Dead silence then.

Rime hears absolutely nothing except the sudden thunderous crush of his own heartbeat roaring through his ears. He stares up at the jackal-headed fiend standing over him. He can feel Blue looking back and forth between them, enough context clues suddenly tossed out in a shared language to imply things. Then, after a long, confused, then horrifying stretch of silence, Rime whispers:

“What?”

“You asked how long it had been since I saw the fires of Ivernas,” says Dornias. “Seven centuries.”

Rime switches back to Infernal. “You can understand my subvocals?”

“Yes?”

“What? I – I don’t— I’ve never met anyone who could –”Rime sputters for a moment then, doubles down. “I didn’t know it was SAYING anything.”

Dornias nods as though this is not surprising. “Difficult to understand if you weren’t part of a few small platoons of Glabrezu soldiers who crossed the River Styx to make their way into Ivernas, storm the Nine Hells, and destroy the multi verse.” He shrugs a little. “Uncommon tongue.”

Blue, becoming bored of Infernal conversations she’s not part of, pokes Rime in the arm. “Rime. RIME.”

“Hmm? Hmm?!”

She pouts. “What are you saying?”

“Uhh,” Rime says, glancing Dornias. “It’s an Infernal thing?”

“Are you okay? Blink twice if you need me.”

Rime’s tone softens a little. “I am okay.”

“Are the shots going to kill me?” Blue demands, face serious and inebriated. “Is he poisoning me?”

“Absolutely not.”

Blue immediately holds up one finger in Dorias’ direction. “Third shot sir! Thank you, Mister Friend.” Then she whispers to Rime. “Is he a whowolf too?”

Rime supposes she means ‘werewolf’ but just says, “No.”

And at that moment the main door to the bar opens and both William and Bian – returned from their second meeting today with shady and unscrupulous criminals for profit – enter the bar. They immediately and understandably freeze upon seeing the clientele. Bian’s large tabaxi eyes dart around the room, one fluffy triangular ear twitching a little bit, her tail flipping back and forth as she squints particularly at Dornis and the bugbear and the rage skull pickle jar. Then she’s looking at Rime the way you look to any bellweather for direction, and takes his relative calm as cue to be regular in here.

Will, meanwhile, goes for his sword.

“Ah,” says Dornias, holding up a hand. “Please no violence on the premise. I would hate to eject you.”

Blue begins to wave down her alarmed life partner, flapping a blue web-finned hand at him. “HUBBY. HUBBYYYY.” She might be drunker than Rime first picked up on. “Come sit down and talk to our friend.”

Will nervously drops his hand from his rapier, holding his palms open as he moves toward the table. He eyes Dornias the entire way there. “Uh, yeah. I’m sorry I… sorry?” Then in a lower voice to Blue,“What have we missed?”

Bian strides (unflapped by skeletons, bugbears, or demons) across the room. She yanks a chair over to the table beside Rime, then takes a seat backwards straddling it. Properly settled, she then promptly steals and eats the pickle off Rime’s plate. Rime stares. The pickle crunches satisfactorily between sharp feline jaws and she smacks, small pink nose wrinkling slightly but otherwise shows no ill affect from eating the pickle from the cursed skull jar. Rime, somewhat warily, slides her his whiskey shot as a chaser and turns back to Dornias.

Still in Infernal, he presses, “It’s a Glabrezu dialect—?”

Blue, whispering loudly to Will, demands, “Did you know he speaks Angry Tongue?”

Will glances at Rime, then back to Blue. “No. Did you?”

“No. But I didn’t ask.”

Bian keeps gnawing on the pickle, one ear rotating toward the voices, but otherwise appears to ignore everyone. Will and Blue continue to discuss Rime just loudly enough it kind of involves Rime, despite his being in another conversation entirely. Dornias is pondering his question, however, so in the meanwhile he hears:

“I didn’t know you spoke Fishy-Fish.”

Will sounds resentful.

Blue looks offended. “I am a fish. You speak in Ely-Elf don’t you?”

Rime, loudly, butts in at this point. “It’s Infernal, by the way. All tieflings speak Infernal.”

Blue lunges up dramatically in her seat, pointing at Rime. “YOU TEACH ME INFERNAL. I’LL TEACH YOU AQUAN.”

Rime, rather taken off guard by her volume goes, “Okay. Fair?”

“Anyway,”Dornias breaks in finally, still speaking Infernal. “Most Glabrezu speak Abyssal but a few were trained in other tongues. A bastarization of Infernal, Abyssal, lil bit of Celestial, some of the language of the Modrin but not much. Aaand I had to do their accounting for a few centuries.”

Rime likewise speaking Infernal, says, “Accounting? What? You said they stormed the Nine Hells?”

Dornias switches to Common then, sounding confused. “Yes! Have you—? Oh! I forget! Material Plane. I am sorry. I am so used to the Lower Planes where everyone knows!”

Blue raises her hand like she’s in class. “I’m not from this plane either!”

Dornias looks at her, eagerly, leaning across the table a little to grin at her. It’s toothy and worrisome. “I know! I have bought and sold some of your kind!”

Then he switches to Aquan and with a voice like a man drowning, launches into some kind of extended conversation with Blue in her native “fishy-fish” tongue. To her credit, her face remains a perfect, hospitable mask of rapt glee the entire time. Will, meanwhile, steals Blue’s ham sandwich from her plate and starts eating it. He gets about halfway through one bite before a kind of involuntary rapturous look of bliss crosses his handsome half-elf features and he kind of zones out. Both Rime and Bian stare.

“You okay over there, bud?” says Bian, shooting Rime’s whiskey.

“It’s a really good sandwich,” Will whispers.

Dornias suddenly swaps back to Common. “I’m sorry. I forget people of the Central Planes are not used to conversing about the Blood War. It’s struggles and strategies.” He looks around the table. “How much do you know about the Creation of the Universe?”

There’s a pause. Before Rime or Blue can volunteer something vague, Will – a man who only a few days ago called Bian a ‘cat-person’ and Rime ‘basically a demon’ and then failed to correctly identify his wife’s native tongue – immediately lifts his head and says (mouth full of sandwich), “Well, one time, in a bar…”

And proceeds to recount in detail the broad strokes of how the universe was created. At least, as told to him once by a raging drunk wizard in a tavern somewhere. While this is happening, Bian elbows Rime slightly, leveling a weighted sidelong glance at him that Rime interprets as a generalized, ‘Are we okay? Or should I be worried?’

Because she must notice, if nothing else, the anxious tail-lashing that Rime’s got going on around his boots beneath the table. A tell that other species with tails generally ken to more quickly than other races. Rime glances at her, allowing a slight nervous uncertainty knit his brow, then wobbles one hand back and forth.

Blue, staring at Will, says loudly, “I’m so into you right now. Wow. You know so much for a surface walker.”

And while Will looks pleased with himself, Dornias addresses the table again saying, “Anyway, in war there is always the middle Neutral ground yes? The No Mans’ Land as it were? Where all must cross and blood and mud and stabbing each other and bone sticking out of the dirt? There is where I live. On the River Styx. Or at least that’s where I used to.” Proudly he adds, “Now I live in Waterdeep. I am Waterdaviancitizen.” He beams. “I won the court case.”

The whole party stares a little.

“Anyway,” Dornias says, speaking to Rime suddenly, “your weird vocal tic sounds like Glabrezu shouting orders from other room, basically.” If he notices Rime’s horror that he’s saying this to the whole table, he doesn’t act on it, but goes on knowingly. “Facility with all languages means, uh, well, I speak all languages.”

Blue looks at Rime. “So… are you like… possessed? Is it like a possession thing? Do your weird voice whispers tell you to kill people?”

Rime, horrified, completely forgets Thaumaturgy and sputters, “No! I don’t even understand it.”

Blue nods sagely. “Good to know.”

Dornias adds, “Sounds like you have direct connection to Abyss.”

Rime chokes. “What?!”

Blue slams her palms excitedly on the table. “THAT’S SO COOL, RIME!”

“Wait. I’m sorry. Sorry,” says Dornias while Rime’s body goes cold all over. “I mean Nine Hells. Occasionally you get Glabrezu across both sides. Big mess. So yes, you have direct connection to Nine Hells in your vocal cords.

Blue is now drunkenly yelling, “THAT’S AWESOOOOME.”

Rime’s frozen, gripping the table edge. “I don’t know if that’s awesome.”

Blue giggles. “What’s up with the demon possession?”

“I am not possessed!”

“Oh… so it just kind of piggybacking on you?” Blue props her chin in her hand, frowning, puzzled at him. “Like it sits on your shoulder and says shitty things?”

Rime’s cantrip keeps half falling apart in his head so he just keeps, unable to stop himself, speaking aloud out of pure instinctive panic. “I don’t— I don’t know what – Dornias, as I’m talking is it speaking to YOU? And like… as I talk can it hear you and the conversations I’m having?”

Dornias says, “Uhhhhhh.”

And then there is a very, very, very long pause. Rime can visibly see the ancient fiendish hesitate as if uncertain what to do. He’s trying to decide what to say. By the time Dornias finally moves again, Rime’s fingers are aching where he’s gripping the table. Dornias surreptitiously produces a piece of paper. Then he picks up a pen and writes something on the paper. That done, he flips the paper around for them to read:

IT SAID NOT TO TELL YOU.

Dead silence follows.

Bian breaks it by asking, deadpan, “So is it gonna kill us in our sleep?”

For a moment, Rime kind of fades out in a long buzzing silence where Rime is vaguely aware of Blue saying things and Dornias saying things and, weirdly, the thing he is most aware of is his own fingernails, blunt and digging into the wood beneath his palms. He can feel Bian kind of side-eyeing him, but can’t bring himself to look at her. The buzzing in his ears fades in time to hear Dornias promising to teach Blue a demonic dialect, but only after they kill a lantern archon and climb Mount Celestial on another plane of existence.

Rime plants a hand on Blue’s shoulder and says, “Blue. No.”

Blue doesn’t hear though, and is eagerly wooting, “Alright. Let’s go!” Just in time for Will to also grab her other shoulder and pull her back into her seat.

Rime brings up his hands and in deliberate Sign, he says, Do you understand me?

Dornias also brings his hands up and signs, Yes. I understand you.

Rime holds his gaze.

Have you ever encountered anyone else who has this affliction?

Yes. But specifically only those with powerful connections to the lower planes.

Can you elaborate?

Typically direct descendants of archfiends or demon princes.

So what would your theory be about me?

Dornias glances sidelong and Rime realizes Blue is pouting dramatically, glaring at their fast-moving hand-signs with the resentment of someone being left out of a conversation.

“Hmm, well let’s see,” he says aloud, moving suddenly toward Rime. “Red skin, horns…” He reaches up and taps one of Rime’s horns with a claw. “You have strong connection to Minaros. You might be distant child of Mamon. The Arch Devil of Greed. He through whose hands pass all coin and who sits unchallenged upon a throne of stolen wealth from all the multi-verse.”

Again. Dead silence for a moment.

Then Will, beaming over his sandwich plate says, “Hey! My kinda guy! I don’t have a faith, but I can get behind that.”

Then from the far end of the bar, the bugbear drinking from a bucket-like tankard wobbles around in his seat and burps, “Uh. Respect.” Then slurps his beer.

Rime jerks physically. “No!”

Blue is already shouting. “Shots for the four of us! And the bugbeaaaaaar!”

Cheering ensues.

Rime fumbling his Sign, tries to say something to Dornias who is eagerly pouring out more shots all around.

Dornias. Do you –?

Blue lays a hand on his wrist to get his attention, suddenly concerned and mildly wounded. “Are you not doing your shot?”

Rime stares wildly at her, then the shot glass, then her again.

He slams the shot mostly of pure Lliiran instinct and the sudden realization he’s not drunk enough for this and has not been for some time.

Blue somewhat fuzzily to Dornias, says, “Can I have another sandwich? My dog ate mine.”

Will shoots her a look, but she ignores him.

Dornias whizzes away to prepare another screaming pickle and sandwich while Bian and Will shoot their respective drinks and Bian steals Rime’s untouched sandwich. Rime sits, hands braced against the sides of his head, staring vacantly into the middle of the table until the new sandwich lands on their table and Dornias loiters again benignly by their table, delighted apparently by their general patronage.

Rime takes the opportunity to Sign to him.

So… the vocal tick is basically that someone has a two-way connection between me and this realm of hell and someone is speaking through it whenever I speak?

Dornias studies his hands, then says aloud, “Effectively, yes.”

“Fuck!” Rime cries, pressing one palm against his forehead.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Donias waves a hand. “Is slightly incorrect phrasing. Someones.” A beat. “At this point I have detected six distinct voices.”

Bian levels a cool look in Rime’s direction. “You got major problems.”

Rime snaps his fingers, his cantrip rebutting, “I’m fine!”

Blue folds her hands on the table, leaning forward with a knowing inebriation. “You know… Tritons respectour ancestors. Just saying…”

“I don’t know that’s what this is!”

Blue just eats her new cursed pickle while Will somewhat desperately flicks sandwich crust at her in an effort to stop her declarations about Rime’s suddenly deeply strange vocal affliction.

Rime turns to Dornias and through the spell, asks, “Is there anyway to stop it?”

“Hmm, is difficult process. But yes. I could probably stop connection.” Then, before anyone can get excited about his, he adds, “But you would have to die.”

Blue, still very drunk, flaps a hand at the fiend while Rime stares, speechless in every sense of the word.

“Do you just mean killhim?” She makes a kind of psssh/gargling noise of unimpressed-ness and jerks a thumb at Rime. “Because I can do that too.” She seems to realize how that sounds once said aloud, then mumbles, “I wouldn’tdo that… but I could.”

Dornias, trying very hard to be helpful, explains, “Process would specifically involving killing, removing heart, filling with lead, removing vocal cords, stretching them around an axe, and using it to chop up rest of body before burning in a fire from the Nine Hells.”

Blue is getting paper out of her bag. “Should we be taking notes?

Rime, very softly says, “No.”

Dornias is still explaining things. “Even after you die, connection will probably persist and eventually tear where devil soldiers will pour through into this plane of existence.”

Blue is scribbling on her piece of paper. “So definitely take notes. Can you go through that process one more time?”

Rime tries again, just once more, with shaking hands to Sign: Are you saying that I could be a portal? You said monsters could come through? What?

Dornias nods absently. “Yes, but will probably take long time. Unless you suddenly experience an enormous amount of negative energy passing through your body or alternatively someone held you down and ritually sacrificed you make it happen.” A little shrug then and a wave of the hand. “Buuut rare occurrence.”

Blue looks sincerely at Rime. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” she promises with liquor-muzzy fondness. She pats him on the arm. “But if you ever die, don’t worry, Imma un-portal you.”

Rime gets up. Rime can’t hear anything but a low roar. It might be his speech cantrip going out of wack. It might be his pulse in his brain. It might be the panic overriding every other process for receiving sensory data to his higher order thoughts.

Either way, he can’t hear a damn thing. He just kind of… stands up at the table, looks around… then runs. Bolts straight out the front doors, slamming his palms against the wood and knocking them wide open  into the street outside. He hooks around the door on the right so he can fetch up hard against the tavern wall and, for just a moment, fall apart. He stacks both hands over his mouth and just… smothers the noise that tries to rush out of him. He strangles that like a kitten in a bucket and leans, breathing hard, against the wall.

Around him, people are passing idly by. Overhead, the sky is cold, autumnal, and clear. He closes his eyes and for the first time since leaving home, he regrets not leaving the other half of his sending stones in Secomber because more than anything, anything, anything right now… he’d bleed just to hear something familiar. He mouths over and over silently against his fingers, “It’s okay. It’s fine. It’s okay,” until the shape of the lie is like braille against his palms.

Rime opens his eyes. He won’t speak aloud again for a while.

[taexual]

Seeing White / Jinyoung x Reader (SMUT)

Read PART ONE of this reaction HERE

Burning touches all throughout the business meeting – because you needed to prove (to each other?) that you were married – escalate as soon as you and Jinyoung leave the restaurant.

Pairing: mafia au!Jinyoung x Reader

Warnings: strong language, rude jinyoung & smut (unprotected car sex y’all, stay safe)

Words: 6.1k

there were so many things that made me post this so late and I am so SO sorry for taking so long to write this. i hope you enjoy!

Request by anon: could you possibly do a part 2 on mafia Jinyoung? oh and i forgot, yes I would like mafia jinyoung pt 2 smutty but romantic haha x

By @kpopgrrl09: Hey girl! I'm requesting a continuation of chapters for the hyung line of GOT7 MAFIA AU collection its just all too good and i need more to read!

Request by @shineetrash247: But can you maybe right a smuttish second part for Jinyoung's mafia au.Like a small one.Please.Pretty please

You were nervous about the meeting with the foreign businessman because it was the first job assigned to you and Jinyoung since your arranged marriage a month ago. Usually – since your family had relations with the Mafia as well – you attended similar meetings with your father or your uncle. Now, however, you were going to attend one with your husband.

You didn’t even know Jinyoung that well and you were already nervous about this as it was, but then he came into your room and called you beautiful, and made your entire world flip upside down. If previously Jinyoung was nothing but a man you were stuck living with, now he was the handsome guy that you were married to. And on top of that, you’ve had some feelings for him – that’s what you’ve decided last night after he left your room.

It took you one whole sleepless night to realize that normally, it’d take a lot more than just a compliment to get you all flustered. So, it wasn’t even the compliment that made you feel this way. It was obviously the person, giving it.

While you tried to calm yourself down before grabbing your purse and heading downstairs, you heard a knock on your door.

“Y/n,” Jinyoung’s voice – ah, speak of the handsome devil – was heard on the other side of the door. “Are you almost done?”

“Yes!” you replied, your hand instinctively reaching to touch the necklace Jinyoung had helped you put on last night. You still felt aftershocks of electricity in the places where he had touched you. “I’ll come out in a second.”

“Alright, I’ll be at the front door. Take your time!” Jinyoung replied and you heard his footsteps as he walked towards the stairs.

You watched your reflection in the mirror for a few more minutes, trying to understand why your heart was beating so fast. Could it be just because you were afraid you were going to have to lead the negotiation with the businessman? Or was it because you were going to spend the whole night at the restaurant, sitting next to Jinyoung?

Just at the thought of being able to lose yourself in his cologne – honestly, he may have used a cologne that every single man on Earth used and he would have still smelled differently – throughout the whole dinner, you had to sit down on your bed for a moment.

Yeah, you may have been nervous about the meeting itself, but the reason why your stomach was doing somersaults was Jinyoung.

After you slowly exited your room and started to descend the stairs, you could see Jinyoung turn around and face you in slow motion. He had helped you choose a dress last night but he had not yet seen you wear it. And now that he did, you could see every muscle in his body stiffen, despite him wearing a white suit (he did not just match his tie to your white dress, he matched his whole outfit) that made it harder for you to see the outline of his figure.

Meanwhile, Jinyoung had no trouble seeing your figure – because the dress that adorned your body accentuated all the right features, and, frankly, made you feel a little self-aware, especially under Jinyoung’s relentless gaze – as you climbed down the stairs towards him. But then his lungs, once his eyes caught you, started to approach dangerously low levels of oxygen intake, so he was forced to look away from you so he could actually breathe.

“Hey,” he said to you when you stopped in front of him. “You look… breath-taking.”

Literally.

A shade of red crept up to your cheeks but you tried to play it off. “Thank you. You look really good, too. Looks like we’re matching tonight, huh?”

Jinyoung had completely forgotten what kind of outfit he was wearing but to think he’d waste his precious time that he could have spent looking at you by checking what kind of clothes he had on, would have been plain stupid. So, he just nodded and extended a hand to you.

“Looks like we are,” he confirmed as you automatically put your hand in his, feeling the softness of his skin and almost melting right away.

This was going to be a long night.

Your thoughts were confirmed when you walked out of your house, hand-in-hand with Jinyoung, and saw his old – white – Chevrolet parked out front. It was an old model – one of the few you’ve seen in Jinyoung’s garage – so you didn’t have very high expectations about how fast it’d go from zero to one-hundred.

And yet, as Jinyoung opened the door for you and patiently waited for you to climb inside before closing the door and jogging around the car to the driver��s side, you realized you wouldn’t have minded going at twenty kilometers per hour if it meant that Jinyoung would sit next to you. Not too close to damage your entire ecosystem, but not too far so you wouldn’t see him.

Riding in a car with Jinyoung seemed to give you the perfect amount of time to get used to his close presence and prepare you for the night ahead. Oh, and also it gave you some time to look him over while he drove.

Or so you thought.

“I have to say,” Jinyoung suddenly said, just as your eyes had moved down to his hands and the way they were tightly gripping the wheel. “The way you’re looking at me right now – oh, and you’re biting your lip, too? –  God, it does things to me.”

You had not expected him to catch you staring. Maybe it was somewhat naïve on your part. But more than that, you had not expected him to say something as obviously provocative as this.

You flushed and looked away immediately, unsure what to do with yourself anymore. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize,” Jinyoung said. “If I wasn’t driving, I would have really enjoyed it. Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You have,” you answered awkwardly.

“Good. I’ll probably say it again more than once,” he warned. “Are you nervous?”

You had no idea how he managed to go from commenting about the way you were staring at him to casually asking you if you were nervous that fast, but you were noticeably slower and still had a hard time turning your head to look at him due to the redness on your cheeks.

“About the meeting?” you asked, still watching the dashboard of his car instead of him.

“Well, that and… in general,” Jinyoung said, the small smirk on his lips telling you that he could tell how intimidated by him you were.

You weren’t like that before. Before he came into your room last night, you’ve barely even seen him. You were only married technically, but in reality, you could hardly recall what he looked like. And now suddenly, Jinyoung’s face was all you could see.

Of course, you were nervous.

“I’m okay,” you replied to his question. “It’s a little warm in the car, but other than that, I’m fine.”

Jinyoung’s eyes automatically glanced at the heater of the car, noticing that it was placed on maximum heat. Then, his eyes moved to your white dress, which stopped mid-thigh. His eyes lingered there for a moment before he got himself together and looked back at the road.

“You’re not wearing a lot,” he said. “I didn’t want you to get cold.”

Cold was the last thing you were feeling when you felt his eyes on you. You were sure that even if Jinyoung did turn the heater off, you’d still feel on fire with him next to you.

“I debated wearing pants,” you admitted, finally raising your eyes to look at him, but then looking away immediately after he glanced back to look at you, causing your gazes to meet. “But, uh, I thought this occasion called for a dress.”

“I’m glad it did,” Jinyoung said. “You look really good in dresses. In pants, too, of course, but… dresses are great. I like you in dresses a lot.”

Trying desperately not to blush again because, for God’s sake, you were an adult, you nodded. “Thank you.”

“Y/n,” Jinyoung said then. “Do you think it’s important for us to act – you know – married in front of these people?”

For some reason, your stomach dropped. “I don’t know. We were told to. But I guess we don’t have t—”

“We were told to,” Jinyoung interrupted you, repeating your words. “So, we should then, shouldn’t we?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay. I think we got this.”

Obviously, arranged marriages were just a play that two people put up for everyone else. And, obviously, everyone else knew it was a play, too. Yet, they still played along, turning your personal lives into a huge drama with virtually no real details.

Jinyoung helped you get out of the car, – that was parked in an empty lot of an old construction site further away from the restaurant, for safety purposes, or so Jinyoung said – kissing your hand in the process, and thus, letting you know that he had already started to act, so you need to do the same.

The two of you entered the restaurant hand-in-hand and headed towards the table at the far end of the room, where the businessman you were supposed to meet, was already waiting.

“Good evening,” Jinyoung said as a way to announce himself. “I’m very sorry if we’re late. We ran into some traffic on the way.”

The man at the table immediately jumped to his feet, shaking Jinyoung’s hand and kissing yours. This polite gesture did not cause your stomach to flip or even tremble in the slightest, unlike Jinyoung’s touch did.

“I didn’t know this was Le Dîner en Blanc,” the businessman laughed, noticing your white outfits, as Jinyoung and you – not having the slightest clue what he was talking about – chuckled awkwardly. “Well, sit, sit. I’ve only gotten here a few minutes ago myself, you have nothing to worry about. Though, I imagine, having a passenger as beautiful as your wife, would explain your tardiness.”

Jinyoung gave him half a smile. “Yes. Certainly.”

Jinyoung helped you sit in your chair, taking a seat right next to you with the businessman in front of you. Jinyoung couldn’t help but notice the way the foreign man kept eyeing you and he had to admit, he did not like that. Not just because you were technically a married woman, but also because the man reeked of perverted nature. Jinyoung didn’t want you anywhere near him.

Sometime after the waitress took your orders, you began to explain the business project you’ve come here to offer. The businessman listened to you intently, his eyes never leaving yours, and Jinyoung – however stupid it might have seemed – started to feel envious. He was a patient guy. He didn’t need your constant attention. But something about the fact that your attention – although for a professional purpose – was focused on another man caused him to start thinking irrationally.

Without really thinking about it, Jinyoung placed a hand on your thigh. Neither one of you expected skin-to-skin contact because both of you had assumed your dress was a little longer. It must have ridden up when you sat down on the chair. And now Jinyoung had his hand on your bare thigh. His skin was on your skin.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised.

Jinyoung gave you a quick smile, mouthing, “We’re married.”

Sure, you were married. That didn’t give him the permission to distract you like that, though. Especially not in the middle of a meeting that you were already nervous about.

“Sorry,” you said, realizing that you’ve stopped talking as soon as Jinyoung touched you. “Where was I?”

“We were discussing the values of property downtown,” the businessman explained. “I’m assuming you wanted me to invest in some of those buildings that, if I’m not mistaken, are currently still in business, are they not? I’ve driven past multiple companies that were working in those buildings on my way here.”

“Right!” you said, your thoughts no longer on your racketeering accomplices, but on the way Jinyoung’s fingers seemed to brush over the skin of your thigh every now and then. “Well, those companies are planning to, uh, resettle elsewhere. Business for them isn’t going well downtown. We’re really doing them a favor by taking it over.”

“Uh-huh,” the businessman repeated. “And what makes you certain that your business will flourish since theirs isn’t going so well?”

God, why couldn’t he just sign the damn papers and let you and Jinyoung go? You had trouble maintaining your business tone when Jinyoung’s hand was on your leg.

You glared at the guy next to you before continuing, only to catch him already watching you with an intense gaze. You could see Jinyoung’s dilated pupils and slightly parted lips and you had to look away before you completely lost your train of thought.

Your glares didn’t seem to do anything to him as his hand stayed where it was. And, maybe you weren’t really trying to get him to remove his hand from your thigh. You just wanted him to know that this was not the appropriate time for that.

Somehow, after managing to focus on your work and not on the man in the seat next to you, you finished answering the businessman's questions and waited for him to finish reading the business agreement Jinyoung’s family had typed out beforehand. You haven’t read the agreement before, so you were hoping the businessman wouldn’t ask any more questions. But he did.

Jinyoung, however, noticed your distress and – despite not having read the agreement, either – took it upon himself to improvise.

One of the things you’ve noticed about Jinyoung was that when he was making something up, he gestured with his hands a lot. And now that he was trying to come up with a way to answer the businessman’s question, he had to remove his hand from your leg. You were surprised to shudder at the cold feeling that settled on your thigh in the place where his hand had been.

However, since he was distracting you all through dinner, you chose to pay him back, no longer caring about the risk of blowing this deal off. The businessman was seconds away from signing the agreement anyway.

Slowly, you placed a hand on his knee. Jinyoung didn’t react at all. Thinking that this was really impressive, you slid your hand towards his thigh, making sure your touch was not pressing into his pants too hard, but still making the desired impact despite being very light. Oh, and it was making exactly the impact you were expecting.

Jinyoung stopped mid-sentence once your hand reached his inner thigh. He turned to look at you – and regretted that as soon as he did – and saw you biting your lip as you watched the way the muscles in his legs stiffened at your touch. When you raised your eyes to meet his and smiled before leaning into him inconspicuously, he knew what you were going to whisper in his ear before you even opened your mouth.

“We’re married.”

This was your payback. And your payback was all he could think about as he felt himself stumble over his words, probably not making much sense because his mind was now in the lower part of his body, right next to your hand that was dangerously close to where he needed it the most.

Miraculously, he managed to answer the businessman’s question and get him to nod knowingly without noticing the way Jinyoung’s face was decorated by a sheer pink color caused by the restraining he had to do in order not to grab your hand and place it on the one spot you refused to touch.

Almost immediately after the businessman signed the agreement and took the few remaining bites of his meal, Jinyoung was standing, ready to say his goodbyes.

It looked like all of the professional etiquette was out of the window.

Jinyoung didn’t even bother to listen to the businessman’s wishes to work together on more projects in the future, he just grabbed your hand and pulled you right out of the restaurant. You’d have been lying if you said you weren’t proud of yourself for getting him all worked up like this. You had breathing problems all night because of him. It was time he tasted his own medicine.

Jinyoung did not say a single word the entire time you were walking to the lot where your car was parked. He only looked around a couple of times to make sure no one was following you and then sped up.

Despite clearly being in a rush, Jinyoung did not forget his manners and opened the car door for you as soon as you reached his Chevrolet. You blinked your eyes at the opened back door, though.

“You want me to sit in the back?” you asked him.

“I want you to climb into the back,” he replied. “Now, preferably. Please.”

Still confused, you obeyed his orders and sat down in the backseat of the car. Jinyoung climbed in right after you, locking the car from the inside.

“What are you—”

“What did you think you were doing there?” he asked, cutting you off.

He was sitting right next to you on the back seat, and despite it being dark outside and in the car, too, you could still see the dangerous sparkle in his eye.

“What, in the restaurant?” you asked, trying not to smile when you realized what he was getting at. “You started it.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Neither did I.”

Both of your gazes battled, your eyes refusing to blink as if blinking would result in a loss. And then, Jinyoung chose to let you win by looking down at your lips. He just watched them, not doing anything. However, you were beyond done with anticipation.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you asked quietly.

“Are you going to let me?” Jinyoung countered.

Instead of answering, you decided to take the initiative and turned his face to you with one of your hands, connecting your lips in a kiss that seemed to work as an ignition button, sending both of you into a wild frenzy of heavy breaths and curses.

Jinyoung mumbled a quick “fuck,” as he responded to your kiss with eagerness. His hands immediately landed on your sides and lifted you up slightly, giving you the hint to throw one of your legs over him so you were sitting on his lap.

He had both of his hands tightly secured around your waist, his lips against yours, as you dragged your hands down his chest, feeling the way it rose and fell with every breath that left his mouth and washed off on yours in the form of sloppy kisses. His hands moved down from your waist to your ass, squeezing it roughly before pulling you closer to him and forcing your core to grind against his growing bulge.

You exhaled into the kiss, the friction causing sparks to erupt in your stomach. Jinyoung’s grip on you tightened as he held you pressed tightly against his body while his lips moved expertly against yours, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth.

When – despite being tightly held by Jinyoung – you moved your hips against his again, he groaned into the kiss, moving his lips to your jawline and down your neck, while he listened to your heavy breathing.

“Are you still pretending we’re married?” you exhaled, a teasing tone not leaving your voice.

“No,” Jinyoung replied, placing a kiss on your neck. “I’m showing you we’re married.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, you felt his teeth on the skin of your neck and gasped at the sudden sting caused by his bite. Jinyoung quickly brushing his tongue over the mark soothingly.

One of his hands left your back and reached the zipper of your white dress, pulling it down as soon as he came across it. Meanwhile, you worked on pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders, which proved to be difficult when he was leaning against the back of the seat and refusing to move, limiting not only his own movements but yours as well. He preferred you pressed tightly against him and did not seem to want to rip each other’s clothes off as quickly as possible. If anything, he moved rather slowly – contrary to his lips that harshly sucked on a spot above your collarbone, causing your breaths to turn into yelps – and took his time exploring the newly revealed areas of your skin on your back since the dress has been unzipped.

“Let me remove it,” you said, trying to pull his jacket off, a heavy breath – because Jinyoung found the sweet spot on your neck – leaving your lips right after.

Jinyoung’s hands wrapped themselves around your waist tightly again as he leaned forwards with you still in his arms, and finally allowed you to push the jacket off his shoulders. He had to release you in order for you to fully remove the piece of clothing, but once you did, his hands were on you again, touching and caressing your skin as if he hasn’t touched you in years, despite it only being five seconds.

He moved the sleeves of the dress down your arms, breathing heavily as if this task was the hardest thing he’s done. You weren’t even touching him as he removed the top half of your dress, but somehow, just the realization that he was undressing you was already euphoric enough for him.

As soon as the top half of the dress was off, your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, working much faster than Jinyoung, who just sat there, his mouth still open.

“Remember when I said I liked it when you wore dresses?” he asked in a voice so deep that you felt your fingers start unbuttoning his shirt even faster.

“Yeah,” you replied.

“I changed my mind,” Jinyoung said. “I like it when you don’t wear anything.”

Without giving you any time to reply, he reattached his lips to yours, making the process of removing his clothes so much more difficult. You couldn’t really think about the logistics of a shirt when his tongue was in your mouth.

And yet, somehow you managed to finish unbuttoning his shirt and this time, Jinyoung took the lead and pulled his body away from you – not breaking the kiss – so he could remove the shirt himself.

Finally getting to touch the warm and smooth skin of his chest and abdomen sent shivers down your spine that Jinyoung was quick to feel as his hands never left your body for longer than five seconds. You felt him smirk into the kiss and, wanting to show him that you will not stand this cocky expression on his face, you moved your hips over the already prominent bulge in his pants, causing him to groan and pull away from the kiss.

“That’s not very nice,” he told you. “You’re wearing too many clothes to do stuff like that.”

“Am I?” you replied, grinding your hips against his again. This time, you had to bite your lip to resist admitting how the feeling of him so close to you made you feel.

Jinyoung, however, picked up on the game you were playing, and instead of saying anything else, released his frustration by flipping you on the back seat, so you were laying on your back, at the same time as he unclasped your bra. You didn’t even feel him do that as you gasped once your back connected with the cold leather seat of the car.

Jinyoung pulled your bra off before leaning down to kiss you again, the feeling of your breasts pressed against his chest causing him to sigh deeply into the kiss, before bringing his hands to your hips where your dress was currently located.

He had to remove himself from you in order to finish taking the dress off and as soon as he pulled it off of you, the sight of you, sprawled under him made him swallow painfully. His eyes slowly traveled from your face to your legs, trying to take it all in and make sure he’d remember this.

Once he was sure he couldn’t keep himself from touching you any longer, he dropped your dress onto the floor of the car and leaned into you to kiss you again.

“Jinyoung, don’t just—” you started to say right before his lips touched yours. You pulled away from the kiss a moment later. “The dress will get stained!”

“There won’t be any stains if you’ll be a good girl for me.”

You were surprised to learn that a person could defeat all of your arguments with a single sentence, and yet there Jinyoung was, smirking cockily – again – because he knew very well what kind of effect his words had on you. He didn’t need any proof of that, and yet, as he finally brought his lips to your again, his hand slowly slid down your hip, over your inner thigh, and then stopped right next to your core.

“How bad do you want me right now?” Jinyoung asked against your lips, pecking them another few times, before he brought his hand to your panties, gently brushing his fingers against your clit over the material of your underwear, and moving his face away from yours, so he could watch your reaction.

“Did you find your answer?” you asked, not giving him the pleasure of hearing you beg, despite how much you wanted him to just touch you.

“Not really,” he shot back, retrieving his fingers and sliding them under the waistband of your panties instead. “You’re going to have to talk to me, baby.”

“You’re going to have to touch me in order to get me to talk,” you countered, surprisingly losing your timidness when Jinyoung was acting arrogant.

“Oh?” he replied with the same smirk, while he pulled your panties down torturously slowly. “What if I want you to talk in order to touch you?”

Your hands made their way to his belt since he was too preoccupied with the removal of the last piece of clothing on you to realize that he was still wearing more clothes than necessary.

“Do you want me to talk,” you said, successfully undoing his belt and unzipping his pants, all while making sure to brush your hand over his bulge a few times. “Or do you want me to touch you?”

Jinyoung inhaled deeply at the feeling of your hands on him and then chuckled. “Fair enough.”

He finished pulling your panties down your legs and allowed you to help him remove his pants, since the tight space in the back of his car limited your movements. As soon as he was just in his boxers, he pushed you back onto the seat again and climbed over you before kissing you sloppily while his hands returned to your thighs.

He continued to kiss you as he moved one of your legs to a side and repositioned his body so that he was laying on top of you, between your legs. Then, he slowly brought his fingers to your core, rubbing your clit in the same teasing manner as before.

“Jinyoung…” you breathed, slowly losing patience.

“I told you, baby,” he whispered, nibbling on your neck. “You need to talk.”

Oh, fuck it, you weren’t going to win anything if you kept resisting to obey his wishes.

“Touch me,” you said. “Stop teasing and just touch me. Please.”

Jinyoung gave you one more cocky smirk as his fingers started to circle your clit faster while he kissed your neck, enjoying every little sigh that left your mouth from his touch.

“More,” you whispered.

He roughened his pace, rubbing your clit a few more times, before brushing his fingers against your folds – mostly to hear the way you groaned in desperation – and then sliding two fingers inside of you just as slowly as before. However, with each heavy breath that left your lips, he started to move his fingers faster.

He wasn’t kissing your neck anymore. He couldn’t focus on that when he heard you moan softly. He wanted to see your face as his fingers continued to move in and out of you, stretching you out in the most pleasurable way. He knew at that moment that the sound of you whimpering from his touch would never leave his mind.

Suddenly, he curled his fingers against your walls, causing your body to jerk up. “Oh, shit!”

“Does that feel good?” Jinyoung asked, feeling similar amounts of pleasure just by watching your nearly ecstatic face as his fingers continued to bring you closer and closer to your edge. “Are you going to let me make you come, baby?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes,” you moaned out, having a hard time forming sentences when Jinyoung’s fingers were giving you this much pleasure.

Your eyes closed when you felt a knot appear in your stomach and Jinyoung – proving to you that he knew your body language well – quickened the pace of his fingers, circling them inside of you from one of your walls to the other, until you were basically screaming under him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m going to—ahh!” your words drowned in your moans when Jinyoung used his free hand to fondle one of your breasts, tweaking your nipple, while you felt yourself start to clench around his fingers and lose all of your thoughts from the amount of bliss that overcame your body as your orgasm washed over you.

Your body trashed on the seat as you came from your high, screaming incoherent words as well as Jinyoung’s name, but he held you in place and continued to move his fingers in and out of you until your muscles relaxed, heavy breaths still leaving your lips as you tried to recover.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” Jinyoung growled before attacking your lips with open-mouthed kisses that left you even more breathless. “I want to see it again.”

You pushed Jinyoung’s chest, causing him to sit up on the seat in surprise, and climbed over him, your core directly above his as you settled in his lap, hearing Jinyoung exhale as soon as he felt you so close to his hardened length. Lifting your hips slightly, you heard Jinyoung whine softly at the loss of contact, – he’d never admit he whined, though – and pulled his boxers down.

You debated teasing him just like he had done to you, but both of you were far too impatient for that.

He was already fully hard as he kissed your lips, desperately seeking any sort of contact, while your hands finally touched his length, softly stroking it a few times. But just this tender touch caused Jinyoung to lean back in the seat, groaning.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “I need to be inside of you, baby. Right fucking now.”

Your sighs mixed with his when you lifted your hips up, guiding him to your entrance and then slowly sunk onto him, closing your eyes at the feeling of him stretching you out so much better than his fingers did.

“Oh, fuck,” Jinyoung’s hands were on your waist and his head was thrown back. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You hummed in response, unable to answer anything, as you slowly circled your hips, still getting used to the feeling of him inside of you but also wanting more friction. Jinyoung reacted to every single one of your movements as his grip on your hips tightened and he clenched his teeth.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asked. “Because it’s taking everything in me not to start thrusting into you right now.”

Exhaling deeply one more time, you placed your hands on his shoulders. “Do it. Fuck me.”

It was all the permission he needed to move his legs further apart to gain some balance and lift your hips up slightly before slamming himself back into you and then pulling out almost entirely again. The feeling of your tightness around him made him go faster and he immediately created a pace that left you breathless, while he pressed your body tightly against his, just like he had before when you were still dressed.

The rapid movement of his hips against yours caused you to scream out and wrap your hands around his neck. Jinyoung’s deep breaths mixed with your moans in the car and he realized that no music could ever replace the sound of your skin slapping against each other as he thrust into you.

“Talk to me, baby,” he asked again and you opened your eyes to notice the fogged up windows of the car. “Are you feeling good?”

“S-so good,” you answered with moans in between the words as Jinyoung’s length hit all the right spots inside of you, not allowing you to think clearly. “F-fuck, Jinyoung. You’re so good. S-so fucking good.”

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, but his heavy breaths and the sound of him pounding into you at full speed made it hard for you to hear what he was saying.

You didn’t need words to know when he was close, though.

As soon as you felt him twitch inside of you, his grip on you relaxed a little and he threw his head back again. “Oh, fuck, baby, you’re so tight. So good.”

He continued to pound into you, his hips moving just as fast as before, but frequent moans started to leave his lips as he neared his release. The sight of Jinyoung in so much pleasure was enough to bring you closer to your own edge. Consequently, the feeling of how close you were, caused you to grind your hips against his in circles, creating a new rhythm that Jinyoung picked up immediately.

“Oh, yes,” you moaned when the new circling motion allowed him to hit the spot inside of you that caused your body to jolt in pleasure. “Oh, fuck, don’t stop!”

“Are you close, baby?” Jinyoung groaned in a raspy voice. “Tell me how close you are.”

“I’m s-so close,” you breathed, moving your hips against his and meeting all of his thrusts.

His heavy breathing in your ear. The tightness of his grip on you. His encouraging words. The smell of sex in the air. The way he fit so perfectly inside of you. The feeling of him pounding into you at a speed that caused you to clench around him with each thrust.

All of that overwhelmed you and took your attention away from your impending orgasm until it was right there, coming over you.

“Fuck, Jinyoung!” you screamed out, feeling the knot in your stomach unravel.

You moaned loudly, allowing the wave of pleasure to take over you while Jinyoung held onto you, groaning loudly at the way your walls tightened around him when you came, causing him to reach his own release sooner than he’d planned.

His hips drilled into you at lightning speed during these last few seconds before he came, and the sound of your screams as you orgasmed, made him still his hips for just a moment as he released himself with a loud groan leaving his lips, before continuing his movements again to ride his orgasm off.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck!” the sound of his curses and moans reached a harmony with yours as you climbed down from your high, feeling your muscles relax right when Jinyoung slowed his thrusts and tried to regain his breathing, without releasing you.

He stopped moving as soon as you unwrapped your arms from around his neck, and, despite not wanting to, he relaxed his grip on you, allowing you to lean back and look at him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain to you just how beautiful I think you are,” Jinyoung said as soon as your eyes met. “Or how good you make me feel.”

You laughed at the last part of his sentence, turning away for a moment before Jinyoung brought one of his hands to your chin, turning your face to him again, so he could place a kiss to your lips.

The kiss was slow and sweet and Jinyoung surprised you with his gentleness. His soft touches were the exact opposite of the way he held you just a few seconds ago. Just the memory of his tight grip on you caused you to take a deep breath.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” you asked after having pulled away from the kiss.

Sure, Jinyoung’s car was parked in a parking lot on a lonely construction site, but now that your hormones were no longer clouding your mind, you realized just how public this place actually was in comparison to, say, an actual bedroom.

“I hope they did,” Jinyoung replied.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What? What do you mean?”

“Every single person we saw today has been watching you in that white dress. They all want you,” he said. “I want them all to know that I’m the one who can make you see white.”

masterlist / ask (requests are closed)

[thegirlwiththepurpleguitar]

mildly controversial opinion??

okay so little mini not-fully-formulated thought rant

so like, i hunt. and i know there’s a lot of people that don’t like hunting and that’s great with me. you’re allowed to not like it. but then i see people that treat those that hunt as like, the spawn of satan or some shit, like because those people go and “kill an innocent animal” they’re absolutely evil and tbh?

idk. as someone who does hunt and was raised in a family where hunting is a tradition passed down through generations i can’t roll with that. it’s one thing if you have that view about trophy hunting, i don’t believe in hunting predators, for example, because of their conservation statuses (with the exception of coyotes/other predatory pest species) and because they are an important part of an ecosystem (self defense is different. if i am hunting and i get jumped by a cougar, i’m killing him, but going after predatory species purposefully i will never do). but deer/bird hunting is a different story. most hunters care A LOT about the environment and conservation. honestly, have you ever seen how fast deer can populate an area to the point that they are killing themselves because of a lack of sufficient resources for that population density? and with urbanization and other stuff it’s even worse. hunting is one of the most vital ways to keep that overpopulation from happening...

here’s my thing. in my family, hunting is not for sport. we don’t go out and shoot anything that has antlers, and we don’t shoot because we can. we MANAGE. we pick out a few deer every year that are shooters, that are old enough and mature enough to have had offspring and/or have some sort of physical irregularity that will affect the gene pool (like legit deformities and such), and we try to keep the buck/doe harvest rate as equal as possible. we don’t leave an extreme abundance of does with few bucks. we’re ETHICAL. we THINK FORWARDS. our goal is to appreciate nature and conserve the species. we kill, yes, but we do so with respect for the animal and we do so humanely and ethically as we possibly can. we try to kill with a single shot, always go after a wounded deer, and we never shoot without the deer being broadside, open to an immediate kill shot. we don’t shoot without care. we practice safety and respect. perhaps most important, we DON’T WASTE THE ANIMAL. we always process the meat and eat it. respect for the creature is a vital part of our hunting. i grew up around this stuff, and i have the desire to be a hunter ingrained in me, it is tradition, like i said. but i was not allowed to so much as fire a gun before i was 100% aware of its power and before i understood that the harvest of an animal was not for fun, that it was not just target practice. i was raised to have respect and compassion, to have the empathy to know that a deer or any other game species is a LIVING BEING, and that my job as a hunter was to make any shot i take as clean and humane as possible. 

so like, i think it’s understandable that people can get upset over hunting. i personally get upset about trophy hunting. but throwing all hunters in a box and saying things like we’re evil because we take the life of an animal, even those that do so responsibly, that pisses me off. because a lot of those people don’t have an issue with vets euthanizing pets, for example, but the ethical killing of a deer with a mindset of respect and conservation is just too much oh it’s barbaric these people are murderers. i respect their opinions but i wish that those people would recognize that there is a difference between hunting for sport and hunting responsibly. not every hunter kills indiscriminately...

excuse the rant. i just find it frustrating sometimes. the internet is full of people like that and while i know that a lot of people who don’t like hunting are respectful of it all the same, there are always those who treat others with differing opinions really inconsiderately, often out of a lack of information, and that gets even the people who disagree with them respectfully irritated sometimes. (it’s not because of anyone on here i write this, just some people at school act this way and i needed to let some of that out not on them)

[incampillo18ahsgov-blog]

The 3 P Assessment: Parties, Political Interest Groups, and PACs

a. The Republicans do not want federal agencies to seize control of state waters, and they want to enforce the original intent of the Clean Water Act. 

Democrats believe in conservation of our water, and that we need policies to protect public waters so that people can access and enjoy natural spaces. 

The Green Party believes the health of our clean water is very important. They want to stop destroying the environment.

b. I disagree with the Republican position because they are against enforcing stronger environmental protections. 

c. I agree most with the Democrat position because they want to conserve clean water so people can enjoy it. This does not surprise me.

2. National Interest Group on clean water:

a. One national interest group is The Clean Water Action.

b. This group develop strong environmental leadership to work for changes that make improvements.

c. Clean Water Action focuses on clean water, oil and gas, toxic chemicals, waste, climate change and clean energy, and civic engagement. They state that clean water allows for healthy and prosperous communities. They focus completely on the safety of water.

d. Clean Water Action helped and endorsed the 2018 Pennsylvania Primary Election.  

e. This interest group is located in Oakland, CA.

f. There are multiple volunteer opportunities regarding elections and civic engagement, putting drinking water first, rethinking disposable, oil, gas, fracking, and safer chemicals. 

3. State interest group on clean water:

a. The name of the state interest group that represents the issue of clean water is the California League of Conservation Voters (CLCV).

b. The California League of Conservation Voters aims to protect and enhance the environment and the health of all California communities by electing environmental champions, advancing critical priorities, and holding policymakers accountable.

c. The CLVC helps to create environmental champions and pass strong environmental legislation. The areas that the CLVC focuses their attention includes air quality, clean and renewable energy, environmental justice, global warming, good government, and much more. 

d. The CLVC has many current endorsements for the June 5th Primary Election. One initiative that they endorse is Prop 68, or the Park and Water Bond. Proposition 68 would authorize $4 billion in general obligation bonds for state and local parks, environmental protection and restoration projects, water infrastructure projects, and flood protection projects.

e. The California League of Conservation Voters is located in Oakland, California.

f. There is a smaller number of specific volunteer opportunities. One action is helping to move California to 100% renewable power by voting yes on SB 100. 

4. Clean Water Action is a national interest group, it is more successful and is more widely recognized. Supporters of both groups would be pro helping the environment and people who want to be a part of protecting it.

5. PAC on clean water:

a. The Sierra Club.

b. The Sierra Club PAC wants to protect the environment, practice and promote the responsible use of the earth’s ecosystems and resources, and educate and enlist humanity to protect and restore the quality of the natural and human environment.

c. In 2018 the Sierra Club PAC has raised a total of $99,826, and they have spent a total of $151,828. The amount of cash that they have on hand is $882,379.

d. All of the Sierra Club PAC’s budget is spent on Democrats, so none of their budget is spent on Republicans.

e. One donor is Mr. Robert Heil from Oakland, CA

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 3

The Personal Journal of Mr. S. Holmes

Diamond City, The Commonwealth, 2288

I should have known Piper would demand answers when she spotted me getting into the power armor. I wasn’t quite expecting the veracity with which she questioned me.

“You’ve emphasized in the past that, as long as you’re in charge, the Minutemen welcome everyone, human, ghoul, or synth. How do you reconcile that attitude with your position in the Brotherhood?”

“I don’t. I completely disagree with the Brotherhood policy that a being’s origins warrant its destruction. If a synth, or a ghoul, or a human, or anything else that might exist in the world establishes itself as a threat, then action should be taken. There is no just cause in killing for the sake of ‘what if?’ And you will not publish any of that, Piper.”

She was offended. “What?!”

“There is one reason I play the role of Paladin and only one - Danse asked me to.”

She was perplexed. “But they want him dead!”

“They were his family, the only one he knew. They taught him everything he knows about honor and adhering to a moral code, even if that code has changed slightly since he discovered what he is. He asked me not to cause chaos within the ranks, to just let his name be sullied and presumed dead and gone, and so I will, even though I hate it with every fiber of my being, because I gave my word.”

Her expression was hard, the desire to fight clear, but she relented. “… ok, Blue. We’ll skip the hard questions this time, but I don’t like it.”

“You can ask Maxson all you want.”

“Ha! After what you told me about Danse? It’s going to be a struggle not to spit in Maxson’s face.”

“He believes in his cause, and does genuinely care about his people. I believe he even cares about the fate of humanity at large.”

“Great. Now if he could just care about all the rest of the people in the Commonwealth.”

My reception on the Prydwen was… mixed. Most of the soldiers were put out that I didn’t “invite them to the party” as it were. A few of them made comments in a tone that would have bordered on insubordination had I cared a whit. I reported to Maxson immediately, intending to get this over with. He made his distaste perfectly clear as well.

“Paladin. Report to Captain Kells for an assignment.”

I was unamused. “Before I do, Elder, I wonder if I might have a word.”

“I don’t have time -”

“I don’t have time to answer to frivolous requests, either, Maxson. We are both leaders of our respective factions. I happen to also be a member of yours, for now.” He scowled. “You're the one who made me a Paladin,” I stated, “it was never my intention to rise through the ranks of the Brotherhood. Surely everyone must wonder about your decision.”

“Perhaps, but they don't question it. Most think that you are given a long leash because you took down the Institute, killed your commanding officer and friend upon my order, have apparently just rescued your son from the Institute’s clutches, and you deserve time to be with your family. This is all true… however, even with the great freedom your position grants you, it is necessary that you make an appearance on the Prydwen now and then. Consider it part of our… ongoing truce with the Minutemen. After all, any treaty forged between parties will require compromises neither party wants to make.” He changed the subject. “You brought a reporter on board.”

“I told her she would find interviewing Brotherhood soldiers a fruitless endeavor, but didn’t see the harm.”

“Regarding the stories that paper publishes. What explanation do you propose I give to soldiers who wonder about your continued insistence that the synth called Valentine is a person?

I was grateful my helmet hid any expression that may have flitted across my face. The very possibility that he might even hint at threatening Valentine… “You can tell them the truth. Without his aid, I never would have found the only man who knew how to get into the Institute. Without that, the molecular relay would never have been built, I never would have gotten inside, and the Institute would still be at large. The world owes Nick Valentine a great debt, regardless of whether or not he is a machine. Thus, I treat him with respect and human decency. Nick Valentine may not himself be human, but he strives toward a far higher standard of humanity than do many if not most humans in the Commonwealth.”

“How can a machine strive for anything?”

“I can think of one in particular who strove for nothing but your approval in everything he did. If he were alive, he would still be striving toward ideals of honor and dignity in everything he does, trying to keep humanity safe, though the methods may differ slightly than Brotherhood standard procedure now.”

“Enough.” An odd expression flashed in the young Elder’s eyes. Anger that I would border so close to breaking our agreement, but also… something else. It’s hard to say what it was. I had the distinct impression I had gone too far this time, but he took a breath and said, “I don’t have time to discuss hypotheticals with you, Paladin. You are to report to Captain Kells. He has a selection of squires ready to go into the field under the watch of a Brotherhood soldier. Considering your remarkable achievements, and your experience with children under unusual circumstances, you are an ideal choice. Kells will provide further details. Dismissed.”

I nodded, contemplated a sardonic ‘yes sir’ and decided against it.

Kells was surprisingly civil - no, even respectful. He explained that a squire would be assigned to follow my every move and learn by example as I clear a location of ‘abnormal sentients.’ The location he had chosen was a blast crater inhabited by the Children of Atom. While I was surprised, I have to admit the cultists fit the description of ‘abnormal sentients’ quite well. The squire would be waiting for me in the airport.

Before I went down, I spoke to the precious few people I respect in the Brotherhood. Proctor Ingram was worried about running out of reactor coolant to keep the Prydwen afloat. Senior Scribe Neriah was ecstatic to hear I’d provided her with the effects of a nuclear explosion on an ecosystem close enough for her to study in person. Proctor Teagan was… subdued. He’d just heard that a friend of his had been shot down on patrol by raiders. We spoke for a while about the costs of war, the lives lost. It seemed to help him.

All three of them were varying degrees of disappointed that the Minutemen had been the ones to destroy the Institute, but they were overwhelmingly supportive of the simple fact that the Institute was gone. To quote Proctor Ingram, “You got the job done, and in my book, that’s what really counts.”

Piper was discontent. Her attempts at finding a story had gone exactly the way I had predicted, and while she could have written an account of escorting an eager young squire through the Commonwealth, she decided not to. I may have taken most of the wind from her sails when I forbade her from publishing anything that might be construed as disobeying orders or betraying the Brotherhood.

She certainly wasn’t pleased to hear what I was doing. “There are kids on board?!”

“They’re called squires. Brotherhood boy scouts.”

“What the hell is a boy scout.”

“Never mind.” We stepped inside my reserved quarters, untouched since they were given to me after Danse’s “death.” I didn’t want to be overheard. “The squires are one more reason I don’t want to start a war between Minutemen and Brotherhood. We’d be forced to attack the Prydwen, and there wouldn’t be any way to see the children to safety beforehand.”

“Dammit, Blue. So, what, now you’re going to haul one across the Commonwealth to go kill some cultists?”

“No, we are.”

“I am so not happy with this.”

“I know. I do apologize, I hadn’t the slightest idea what menial task they might have come up with for me… though, to be honest, I think Kells may have been sincere in his desire I help train the new generation. He’ll have to be satisfied with this singular occasion.”

The squire was remarkably excited, commenting the entire way. She was going to be the envy of all the other squires, and couldn’t imagine going back to living on the Prydwen after being out in the world. She also despaired of the fact that she wasn’t armed. “I wish they would have given me a gun. Proctor Teagan just laughed.”

One more reason to like the man.

The assignment was a success; one less accumulation of hostile radiation worshiping cultists in the Commonwealth, an overly impressed squire who was so exhausted I had to carry her onto the vertibird back up to the Prydwen, and an eager-to-leave Paladin and neighborhood reporter.

Piper and I spoke a great deal during the walk back to Diamond City. Most of it had nothing to do with the Brotherhood. We spoke of Nat and Shaun, of Diamond City, and at some point something spurred her to thank me. “You’re not afraid of me like everyone else.” I’d never made the connection before that being the world’s only reporter came with a reputation. Publishing people’s secrets did not endear her to anyone, even if it was true, even if it needed to be said. I assured her that she could always count on me to help, and that I appreciated all the help she gives to me and my family… even if part of the bargain involves intense interviews regarding war-starting subjects.

We entered Diamond City to the familiar sound of Natalie Wright selling papers. Nat greeted her big sister fondly, with a story of punching a student who had the gall to kiss her at school. The hour was growing late. I hurried home.

[theidyllicscribbler]

The 2020 Wakeup call

Introduction

Another decade comes to an end and it has been a great one, maybe for the human race but not really for mother nature. So why not start the new year and decade with a reality check.

Nature is declining globally at rates unprecedented in human history and the rate of species extinction is accelerating with a grave impact on people around the world. Biodiversity and nature’s contributions to the people are our common heritage and humanity’s most important life-supporting ‘safety net’. But our safety net is stretched to a breaking point. Ironically Earth is shrinking and gets smaller over time.

The age of Anthropocene flourishes but doesn’t let mother nature run parallel to it. The diversity within species, between species and of ecosystems as well as many fundamental contributions we derive from nature, are declining fast, although we still have the means to ensure a sustainable future for people and the planet.

Few Facts

One Million animal and plant species are under extinction.

Three-quarters of the land-based environment and two-thirds of the marine environment have been significantly altered by human actions.

Talking about India:

37% of fishes in and around the Indian ocean face extinction and 90% of all large fishes have disappeared from the world’s oceans in the past half-century and the loss of key species causes ecological imbalance.

50% increase in threatened species in India alone

Lots of Indian indigenous fruit varieties are now extinct except the commercially viable ones.

28 threatened endemic mammal species out of 49.

23 threatened endemic bird species out of 74 species.

412 plant species became endangered/vulnerable.

687 animal species became endangered/vulnerable.

14% of all known bird species are endangered.

25% of all known mammals are endangered.

41% of all known amphibians are endangered.

35% of all major reptile classes are endangered

36% of all known dicot species are endangered

75% of the genetic diversity of agricultural crops has been lost.

Here’s a link for you to verify all this data on the official IUCN website.

There has been a 50% increase in threatened species in India alone and that is alarming. Higher levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere have degraded coastal and marine biodiversity to unprecedented levels, threatening the livelihoods of 500 million people who depend on the seas and the health of over a billion people who get their main source of protein from the oceans and seas. This vast expanse of blue also harbors ecosystems such as coral reefs that nourish as much life as our richest rainforest.

In ecosystems where 21% to 40% of the species go extinct, plant growth is expected to decrease by 5%-10% an effect comparable to climate warming, or increased UV radiation from stratospheric ozone loss. But at higher levels of extinction, the impact would be similar to acid deposition on forests, ozone pollution, and nutrient pollution. Biodiversity across ecosystems, across species and in their genetic variation is not faring well at all.

Talking about the global scenario:

At the threat of extinction are,

1 out of 8 birds

1 out of 4 mammals

1 out of 4 conifers

1 out of 3 amphibians

6 out of 7 marine turtles

75% of the world’s fisheries are fully or overexploited

Up to 70% of the worlds known species risk extinction if the global temperatures rise by more than 3.5 °C

1/3rd of reef-building corals around the world are threatened with extinction

Over 350 million people suffer from severe water scarcity

More than a third of the world’s land surface and nearly 75% of freshwater resources are now devoted to crop or livestock production

Fossil records show that current extinction levels are around 1,000 times the natural background rate. They are exacerbated by habitat loss, hunting, climate change, and the introduction of invasive species and diseases. As the area under analysis increases, we assess more species and the red book list just increases, This trend has continued for the past few years. As many as 1 million species are now at risk of extinction if we don’t act to save them; that number includes 40% of all amphibian species, 33% of all corals, and around 10% of insect species.

All these stats show how much we’ve destroyed in the past few years. This long list of species declared extinct should show you just how serious this crisis is and how the mere act of humans showing up someplace can precipitate ecological disaster. It is also said that these species are likely going to extinct before they have even been discovered.

Root Causes

The way we utilize land and sea ( Land and animal agriculture).

Direct exploitation of animals and plants and their unsustainable use.

Pollution ( Air, Water, Soil, etc)

Climate Change

Accelerated and assisted invasion of species

But it’s not as if the world does not understand the importance of biodiversity for human well being but it’s ignorance that dooms us. Loss of biodiversity is the major driving force of global change. Ecosystems are affected even if species haven’t gone extinct but just exist at a reduced abundance. This decade probably is our last shot at saving ourselves from this crisis. These magnificent creatures don’t deserve the hell we create and the way we destroy their magical homes

So what next?

It’s not all depressing. We can still act. We know the causes of the crisis and we know the solutions that can work namely conservation and consciousness. Natural speed limits constrain how quickly biodiversity can rebound after waves of extinction. Hence, the rapid extinction rates mean that it could take a long time for nature to recover. Yes, it is true that humans can do a lot to stave off a species’ extinction. We set aside more protected areas and tread through life more carefully but selective conservation does more harm than good in most cases since it is unnatural for an ecosystem ( like the conservation case of the giant panda) and hoping that leaders would help has gotten us nowhere

Have hope, if you are able, but know that it’s going to take serious, coordinated, international effort, some of which may be uncomfortably radical, in order to maintain the health of our planet and the species we share it with and thrive as a species ourselves

Since the quality of our existence is directly intertwined with biodiversity goal of setting aside half of Earth’s land and seas solely for nature. It’s ambitious, especially in the face of setbacks, like the accelerating deforestation of the rain forests, fires, etc. But we know species can be saved because it’s been done before.

Speaking up is important but what’s most important is doing something. Sweat and tears make more noise than voices and history has repeated this myriad times.

Regional and global scenarios currently lack and would benefit from explicit consideration of the views, perspectives, and rights of indigenous people and local communities, their knowledge, and understanding of large regions and ecosystems, and their desired future development pathways. Recognition of the knowledge, innovations, practices, and values of indigenous people and local communities and their inclusion in environmental governance often enhances their quality of life, as well as nature conservation, restoration, and sustainable use. Their positive contributions to sustainability can be facilitated through national recognition of land tenure, access and resource rights in accordance with national legislation, the application of free, prior and informed consent, and improved collaboration, fair and equitable sharing of benefits arising from the use, and co-management arrangements with local communities.

We are really lucky enough to be part of a society that has a culture of conservation and protection embedded deep in its roots and we can make use of this through a collaborative effort that is partially being implemented and at this stage, it’s all about participation and action. Sometimes all we need to do is stop being ignorant and what happens next is all that matters. They say necessities bring out the best in you and this probably the one final stage where we need to act because there is no tomorrow and what happens in the next hour is uncertain. Who wants a future full of uncertainties and demise.

[nigeiadigitalmarketingcompany]

New IPCC Report Warns of Vicious Cycle Between Soil Degradation and Climate Change

Digital Elixir New IPCC Report Warns of Vicious Cycle Between Soil Degradation and Climate Change

This Real News Network interview with Greenpeace’s Diana Ruiz discusses the new IPCC Climate report, “Climate Change and Land,” which issues a dire warning about how climate change and destructive land use reinforce each other, leading to serious threats for soil quality and hence human survival.

MARC STEINER: Welcome to The Real News Network. I’m Marc Steiner. Good to have you all with.

The IPCC, which is the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, released a new report. The last report showed us the dangers of a 1.5 Celsius degree rise in temperatures, and what that could do to us, what it is doing to us. This new report, called “Climate Change and the Land,” shows the disastrous results of how two very complicated issues intersect to endanger our future. It focuses on how our use of the land contributes to climate change, and how climate change affects the land. As climate change makes farming more difficult, our methods of farming also devastate the wetlands, forests, rainforests, which exacerbates and increases the intensity of climate change itself. The end of the report offered some solutions, but we’ll explore what all that means in this conversation with our guest, Diana Ruiz.

Diana Ruiz is the Senior Palm Oil Campaigner for Greenpeace USA. She’s based in DC, and she’s leading the work to make zero deforestation in Indonesia a reality. No easy task. She has worked to make change and hold United States corporations accountable in countries including Indonesia, India, Peru and Ecuador. And Diana focuses on the range of issues that draw from industrial chemicals systems to pesticide regulations, climate mitigation and adaptation, which means that she’s a very busy woman and took time to talk to us today. And Diana Ruiz, welcome. Good to have you with us.

DIANA RUIZ: Yeah. Thank you for having me.

MARC STEINER: So let me begin by showing this clip that actually from the IPCC report itself, when they offered the report, and this is one of the co-chair’s report, giving her overview of what the report is.

VALERIE MASSON-DELMOTE, IPCC CO-CHAIR: The way we produce food and what we eat contributes to the loss of natural ecosystems and declining biodiversity. When land is degraded, it reduces the soil’s ability to take up carbon, and this exacerbates climate change. In turn, climate change exacerbates land degradation in many different ways. Today, 500 million people live in areas that’s experienced desertification. People living in already degraded or desertified areas are increasingly negatively affected by climate change.

MARC STEINER: So that was the Co-chair of the IPCC. And so let’s talk a bit about what she was saying. This was the overarching look at the report because it does something that I think that has been very hard to do. I understand the report had over 170 people in the 7,000 research projects they put together to come up with this report. But showing the interaction between the earth itself and climate change and how they interact is something that most people have not yet really considered in terms of looking at what we face for the future.

DIANA RUIZ: Yes. The, the IPCC land report really exposes the reality facing the world’s forests, and how we use our land for key agricultural commodities that are used in everything we consume and also in beauty products. For example, palm oil is one of those key drivers of deforestation that is putting a lot of stress on lands, especially in Southeast Asia. And soy is another key agricultural commodity along with the production of meat and dairy.

MARC STEINER: One of the things—What you just said to me is one of the glaring pieces. On the one hand you have this report talking about palm oil production, and production that has nothing to do with eating or the food that we consume, but is completely corporate-driven in terms of what they’re trying to sell to the world like palm oil, devastating rain forests to build these giant plantations.

But even here in the United States, the report shows that, I think they said we had 591 million acres in cropland, but only one fifth of that land is used to grow crops that feed human beings. The rest are soy and corn for industrial use to feed livestock like pigs and cattle. So it really, in many ways, we can talk about the desperation of people and what they’re trying to farm around the world, but in many ways, this problem is being driven, it seems to me, by corporations, the need for profit, what to sell us.

DIANA RUIZ: Well, you bring up a good point when you look at the United States. What we’re seeing now is more of an increase and it’s not just the United States. You’re seeing it in Brazil. You’re seeing it in other parts of the world. But the intensity and the increase of, for example, soy and palm oil that is being produced to feed cattle or poultry as part feed, and it’s that part of that sick system of the way agricultural production for these types of commodities is aggressively converting land. We’re at a critical point where we face a limited amount of land. That is having huge implications on the security of the future of the production of food.

MARC STEINER: I mean, so not only does the deforestation of our planet to create these plantations create greater pollution because of the methane and everything else that it releases. And when you destroy wetlands, I was surprised to see how much more in gigatons that it releases in the atmosphere, on top of what’s happening with our fossil fuels to get us from place to place. That’s something else that I think don’t really put their hands around yet – is the extent to which how we farm and what we farm actually does contribute to the pollution that we’re facing.

DIANA RUIZ: Yeah, absolutely. Agriculture is one of the… It is the leading driver of deforestation together with forestry and other land use. It represents 23% of human greenhouse gas emissions.

MARC STEINER: So the question is—Well, let’s take a look. This is an interesting clip. This has to do with soil devastation, and that came out this report. This is a British scientist and we’ll watch what she has to say.

KAREN JOHNSON, DURHAM UNIVERSITY: Life is at risk ultimately and that’s because all the things that we take for granted, resources that are more at the top of people’s minds like water and air, healthy air, et cetera, are related to healthy soils. Unfortunately, because we’ve not been looking after soils, we’ve been taking out more than we’ve been putting in. But if we year on year don’t return 30% of all organic matter that we take out of the soil, we don’t return it to the soil, then we see soil degradation because that organic matter is the glue that holds the little bits of rock, the minerals together.

MARC STEINER: So, and that was Sarah Johnson—Karen Johnson, excuse me, who’s professor of environmental engineering. But so what she describes here has a couple of – really attacks things in a couple of ways. I want you to comment on this. One has to do with what they’re doing to the soil itself, and what that’s releasing into the atmosphere, but also destroying the soil so we can’t grow things. But B, one of the things that side bars all this, and a major one, it forces migration because people aren’t going to sit around and just starve to death. They’re going to go somewhere to find food. So it hits the earth and our countries in more than one way.

DIANA RUIZ: Yeah. It increases the conversion of more land for agricultural use. And the issue raised around soils, it just underscores the importance that forests play in regulating our climate, as forests are a safety net for humans and for all living beings. Forests breathe in carbon. They’re able to absorb carbon. They end up regulating our atmosphere. And there’s some forests that are very carbon-rich; for example, peatland forest. And peatland forests are an ecosystem that is being threatened by palm oil plantations.

And you see the similar situation in Brazil with the savanna grasslands, known as the Cerrado, that also has rich, carbon rich soils that is also being cleared for cattle grazing. That’s part of the story of how we’re getting to desertification of these lands. Because essentially with forest areas that are very carbon-rich like peatlands, you’re essentially detonating a carbon bomb when you drain those peatlands, and then you clear that land for agricultural production.

MARC STEINER: What was also shocking on top of that and part of that is to raise cattle and to raise other livestock, that what I think I read in the report was that it was equivalent to releasing as much methane in the air as 600 million cars released in the air. Not methane, but—So that to me, those are shocking numbers. So the question becomes, the end of the report, they really tried to wrestle with what to do and how to mitigate this and how to change this.

But I must say that having read the last part of the report, it didn’t leave me in a really good mood, nor very sanguine about what the future might hold because what it will take to stop this is a major change in our culture and not just the corporate world, but our culture, the way we eat, the way we think what we need, that corporations keep pushing on us about what they think we need. This is real. And I think it’s something that we don’t understand, I think, the depth of danger we’re facing.

DIANA RUIZ: Yes. No, we agree completely. I think what the report underlines is the consequences and the urgency. I think everyone has a role to play. I think as consumers, we have a role not just in terms of shifting our consumption pattern, but we also have a role of putting pressure on these companies. Because as long as you are a company that is making multi-billion dollars off of snack foods where the key ingredient is palm oil, then you need to change course. And what changing course means is you need to change your business model so that you’re operating under environmental boundaries, that you’re taking the needs of the planet into consideration now because time is running out. It’s about stopping deforestation, but it’s also about forest restoration.

MARC STEINER: Right. I think it also clearly shows that there has to be some fairly radical measures on this planet if we’re going to save ourselves and the earth that we live on. And I think that’s part of what we’re going to be facing in all those elections taking place here in the United States, across the globe. And it’s increasingly a really serious matter. I deeply appreciate the work you do, by the way, at a Greenpeace, Diana Ruiz. Thank you so much for taking your time with us today. I look forward to talking to you a great deal more as we explore this report in greater depth.

DIANA RUIZ: All right. Thank you so much.

MARC STEINER: Thank you so much. And I’m Marc Steiner here for The Real News Network. Good to have you with us. Please let us know what you think. Give us some of your ideas. Take care.

New IPCC Report Warns of Vicious Cycle Between Soil Degradation and Climate Change

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