#close enough for a 60 year old show

[mai-komagata]

so i rewatched arena last night

takeaways:

they say they don't recognize the ship -- that is fine, they can get different ships in like 8 years, the federation probably doesn't have a catalog of all their vessels.

they don't seem particularly confused as to what the gorn are -- you can read it as "they have never heard of it before" but they don't actually say that. Uhura seems pretty horrified to hear about the gorn. Which tracks.

Colony being destroyed and colonists being in melty face mode tracks with gorn doing what they do to colonies.

This being a weird territorial dispute is not a bad angle -- federation thinks they are to blame, but maybe those are there ritual breeding grounds and we are impinging.

Kirk feels revulsion at the gorn, which tracks our experience of them so far.

Juveniles being super fast and agile and old gorn being lumbering but super strong tracks with a lot of lizard species.

I liked the "these are incomprehensible evil creatures" angle in arena, and I think that meshes with xenomorph experience, in a way simply lizard suit + alien language wouldn't for modern audiences.

Kirk (and Spock) showing compassion for the gorn angle is def interesting. And def more hearfelt if you have all this gorn history, which would make compassion difficult. You'd hope Kirk would generally have compassion for a random alien species. But it makes a more compelling narrative if they have thus far been presented as incomprehensible monsters until Arena, because then the compassion is more radical, and the encounter with the Metrons made them realize otherwise.

[inbabylontheywept]

the fine and subtle art of arguing with old men

it was a good week for testing which meant it was a slow week for me. most of my job is fixing the machine when it goes down. if it doesn't go down, i don't have much to do. 

fortunately neither did marc. in a site full of ornery old bastards, he's the oldest and the orneriest, so it goes without saying that i enjoy spending time with him. he reminds me of my grandpa. hell, he reminds me of a lot of people. i've befriended enough grumpy old men that i've got a sort of momentum to it now - you know how it is, when you meet someone that reminds you of someone else you really like. you get to start that friendship off half built, because you already have an idea of how to like that guy, and some of that old warmth can be brought to the new friendship. a little ember to start the stove up with.

(i think that's one of the really undersold beauties of getting older. you stop viewing people as strangers and more like remixes of friends.)

anyway, i was sitting next to marc and we were talking about the future. i've got my eye on having kids sometime soon (year or two? hopefully?), and he's very happy for me. i've tried asking him for advice, but all he says is that he didn't do a great job with his own kids and they still turned out okay, so i should stress less and trust myself more. i hope he's right. he believes it, at least, and it's a hell of a thing to have the faith of an old man. his faith is hard won.

as for his plans, he's retiring at some point in the next six months, and is hoping to sell his home and buy something in florida. he's republican, so he views the state as paradise, and i'm not inclined to even try talking him out of it. it's his dream, you know? i know for a fact my paradise would be a lot of people's hell. life's funny like that.

still, we kept going on, and it was a good time, and then he reminisced about the last time he got close to quitting - back around 2020. our job required getting vaxxed, and he refused, and there was a big kerfuffle about it before the job actually backed down. i know there's not a lot of sympathy for the unvaxxed out here, but the man's 62. you get the shot when you're under 30 to protect the people around you, but when you're over 60, you're just getting it to protect yourself and it's hard to be mad at someone for kicking their own ass. 

still gave me pause though. i knew he wasn't going to take it well, but half the job of collecting curmudgeons is keeping them around, so i said 

hey. i'm sorry they bent your arm over it, but.

but. 

you should really get that shot. 

and he looked over at me, and i looked at him, and he actually spat. not on me, just the concrete, but it was enough to show that he was mad. then he walked away, as abrupt as anything.

i felt bad about it. i wasn't sure what i'd expected, when he was willing to lose his job over it before, but i'd been so invested in his dream of retirement - the idea of him sipping margaritias on a beach next to his wife, the wife he calls every day during lunch, the wife he says is the one thing in life he ever got right on the first try. the wife that almost divorced him back when he was in the airforce because he just wasn't home enough. 

(but he can be home now.) 

and then he mentioned the vax thing, and it was like seeing a pin hit a balloon. he works out every day and takes all sorts of crazy vitamins and is generally committed to getting the most out of his pension and his life. i didn't want this dumb weak point to be his achilles heel. 

---

i wasn't actually sure how long marc would be mad at me. i've seen him stay mad at some people for weeks. i wasn't sure if being friends would make that time go up or down. 

it went down. i'm glad it went down. 

he stopped being mad about two days later. we were doing front end maintenance one morning, and it was just that simple mechanical rhythm - hex key, replace the anode sheets, punch some off-gassing holes, oil it up, put it back in - that put things at ease. it always does. people working there are too busy to remember grudges, and it has this sort of mandatory practical communication that helps smooth things over. it was going great, and then out of the blue he said babs, you gotta be careful giving advice. those shots come with complications. what would you do if i got that shot, had a stroke, and died? 

and i don't know what answer he was expecting, but i just told him the truth, which is that i would be devastated. i'd feel like i killed him. i thought that was a pretty normal response, but he looked taken aback. he asked why i said it then, and i said i'd have felt the same if he died of covid. that's just life. sometimes, there's no way forward that doesn't risk some kind of regret. 

we finished the tube after that, in a silence that felt heavier than peace but lighter than anger. it felt like the ball was back in marc's court. like it would be rude to take that turn from him. 

we parted ways with a nod and didn't speak until the next day. 

---

i was doing spreadsheet work when he found me again. standard paper engineering - thinking of things we might need and ordering them in batches, months ahead of time. it always feels a little like plugging holes in a dam with my fingers. 

but he popped up, and we didn't even exchange pleasantries. he just said i'm gonna die one day, and you can't blame yourself for that. 

which is a hell of a thing to just tell someone right off the bat. 

so i said what 

and he said babs, i am in my 60s. something is gonna get me eventually, and whether it's covid or heart disease, or a stroke, there will be something you could have said or done before. and that's okay. it's not your job to make me live forever. 

and you know, he actually made a lot of sense. so i said 

okay. 

i'll keep your business yours. i just

you were talking about your retirement before this. and i want that for you very much. you've worked hard for 45 years, and you deserve a break. we're getting to sick season, and it would be the saddest fucking thing in the world if you got this close to winning the race then tripped in the last ten feet. 

and we sat there a few moments longer. i wasn't sure what to say, and i wasn't sure what he'd say, but eventually he just shrugged and said

yeah 

then he left. i figured that would be the end of it. 

---

i did front end maintenance yesterday, after being gone a week. it's one of my favorite things to do. i like working with my hands. i really like working with my hands. i'm glad i went to college, but in a different life, i think i could've made a better electrician than an electrical engineer. 

and at one step, when we were both hoisting the plate back onto the machine, his sleeve rode up, and i saw two bandaids on his arm. 

we finished the install, and i was ready to go back when marc actually stopped me. 

i got the shot, he said, almost embarrassed. like he'd been caught. and i knew he was gonna say something dumb about it, so i just cut him off by giving him a hug. 

i was relieved. hugging old men is kind of like picking up cats. if they like you a lot, they'll tolerate it, but that's about it. we sat there maybe three beats before his hands went up, and then he gave me one overly-hard thump on the back. in my experience, this is how old men tell you that they're done, so i let him go.

carla talked me into it, he said, almost defensive. his wife. his one good decision.

tell her i said thanks, i said back.

trump got the shot too, he said, less defensive, but oddly pleading. like he was consoling himself.

like he was nervous.

then it's gotta be safe, i said, and he looked up at me, strangely searching, strangely vulnerable. i don't know exactly what he was looking for, but i guess he found it because after a few moments his shoulders relaxed.

yeah, he said, one hand on the back of his head.

it's gotta be.

[doctorbeth]

A pair of elderly patients: Part 1 Poochie

Poochie the dog is owned by a family among you dear people. He is over 60 years old, about 7 or 8" tall, and very well loved. He's had repairs before to his shoulders, and he'd been wearing a red dress for years to try to protect his skin from further wear.

His person (his original person) wanted to keep him as close to original as possible, but also wanted to stabilize and reinforce him. Here are his original diagnosis photos, sent by another family member:

I'm showing larger versions in the hopes that you can see not only his holes, but the runs where his fabric is see through.

Poochie came to the hospital last month for wound repair and supplemental stuffing... just a touch to protect him on the inside. He wasn't getting a spa, he needed to stay as original as possible. And we were keeping old repairs where possible too. Rather, the treatment for Poochie was to stitch wounds, adding fabric under his runs to take the pressure of stitches, and patches where he had holes. Just enough to stabilize him. He wasn't going on adventures with toddlers anymore, but he wanted to feel safe watching over his family. Here's Poochie all better:

He's sort of like a kintsugi vase with its visible seams, or an older person, whose wrinkles and gray hairs tell their story. Poochie earned every scar and new seam, but he's huggable and lovable specifically for those patches and seams, which are reminders of all the adventures he's had. And now, he can be hugged again and share his memories (and make new ones) with his family in Washington.

[enigmatist17]

I've never written Deadlock before, but RatchLock(?) in the Mecha Pilot Jazz Au by @keferon has me by the throat bc Ratchet is my #1 babygirl of All Time ❤️❤️❤️

My other fics I've done in said AU 1 2

---

Ratchet was old.

Sure, he still had a good 50 to 60 years left in him, but hoy boy he was old. He knows most of that "aging" happened when he worked with the mecha program, and while it had been the highlight of his life, the dark road they had started to turn down wasn't for him.

Pilots dying in dozens from all sorts of ways, the worst being the degradation of their minds from the very machine used to defend humanity

Bright-eyed rookies turning hollow and their spark burned out, most leaving with eyes unseeing inside the same black bag.

Demands for more, demands to integrate human and machine, demands to take away their humanity to win

Demands that still haunt his dreams, especially when old superiors ambush him with a gaggle of his new students and interns in his tow.

His town, dammit!

Most of them watch Ratchet spend the rest of the day cursing up a storm that could make any sailor blush while slamming things down, everyone escaping when he eventually made a vague motion to the door. He goes for his bottle of whiskey once he makes sure the last student drives off with some friends, taking a seat in the middle of the shop floor as he pours himself a generous glass, setting the bottle by the side of his chair.

"Does Ratty have all his toys away~?"

"For now." Ratchet rolled his eyes as he took a sip, able to hear the bay door behind his chair rattle before opening with a slight screech. To a normal person, the sight of what appeared to be an unpiloted mecha slipping into some random repair shop would have caused a bit of a ruckus, but Ratchet is unbothered as he takes another sip of his drink. "Make sure you close the door this time."

"I leave it open one time." The mecha scoffs, glowing red eyes cycling in exasperation as the bay door is closed with a slight tug, the loud crash of metal on concrete making the human in the room pinch the bridge of his nose. "Oops."

"If I had a wrench within reaching distance..." The mecha grins as it crosses the shop floor, unapologetic as they sit on the floor across from the bioengineer. "Any luck today?"

"I was able to take out two scouts, should give me enough energon for a few cycles." Ratchet watches as two glowing cubes are pulled out from a seemingly endless storage space inside one arm, shown off before they're placed back inside. "I've survived off less."

"I'm still working on a synthetic version, but no luck." A flicker of regret crosses Ratchet's face, and the mecha reaches over to poke the top of his head. "Hard to create an alien food source, apparently."

"You're still trying, I'll take that." The mecha croons, glowing eyes watching Ratchet take another sip with a sort of purring noise.

No, not a mecha, an honest-to-god alien known as a Cybertronian.

"You seem upset." While the strange organics lacked an EMF field, Deadlock didn't need one to see the annoyance in those pretty optics of his human.

"Just some of the usual bullshit." Deadlock raised an optic ridge and stared, his ornery human staring right back with a scowl. "Got somethin' on my face?"

"You don't get this grumpy over the "usual" bullshit." Deadlock leaned forward with a slight tilt of his helm, the low rumble of his engine getting the other to relax just enough to consider it a victory. "Ratty~"

"Stop calling me that, my name is Ratchet." The Cybertronian only grins, reaching forward to poke the man in his chest.

"I don't like you being upset." Metal that should not be that expressive molds into a pout that would rival his little niece, and had he not seen Deadlock rip out a part of one of the alien threats (Quintesson he's been told) with those sharp teeth, he might find it cute.

.....

Fuck

"Some of those government fucks showed up in front of my people, wanted me to just leave and go back to all of....that." The whiskey is drained, and Ratchet leans over to grab the bottle. "It's one thing to harass me over the phone, but the street? In front of my kids? They can fuck right off with that." The glass is filled again, and the two sit in silence as he slowly drinks, looking at the floor with his brows furrowed. "I can't go back to that, no matter how much that would help out my....project."

"Aw, I'm a project now?" Deadlock cooed, a clawed digit gently caressing the side of Ratchet's face with as much care as he could muster. "I got an upgrade~"

"You're a disaster." Ratchet rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn't move as he listened to the (begrudgingly) familiar cadence of Deadlock's systems. While he could be as silent as the grave, Ratchet was pretty sure he was some sort of spy or assassin of some kind despite any questions getting the brush off, the alien mech had adopted the practice of allowing his natural ambient noise to become noticeable.

Just for his human, one of many things he'd adopted for his savior-turned-object of affection.

"Would you like for me to kill them?" Deadlock purrs when Ratchet raises an eyebrow, taking in the warmth against his digit. "I could make it look like an accident~"

"Like hell you will, that'll just get more eyes on me."

"Are you sure? Didn't sound like you were all that upset by the idea Ratty."

"Yes I am...though if they approach me in public again, maybe you could cause an accident or something, as a treat."

"Oh you do spoil me~!"

[coco-loco-nut]

Actress

Pairing: Logan x Reader

Summary: A former F2 driver gets the chance to star on the big screen.

A/n: I am so sorry this took so long. August was the busiest month of my internship and 60 hour work weeks are tough, plus an hour commute 🥲

masterlist requests open

———————

Filming in the Formula One paddock was something else. Sure, you have been here before, but this was something different. You were fulfilling your childhood dream of being a Formula One driver, kinda.

“We will start filming in 15,” your producer says at the end of their tangent. The race suit hangs at your hips as you stand, watching other drivers go by.

“Why does she look familiar?” Lando asks Oscar, both ready to collapse in their drivers rooms after a long qualifying session.

“She drove in Formula Two with Trident a few years ago,” Oscar quietly observes you, mentally debating whether it would be weird to approach you.

“She seems to be doing well for herself,” Lando hums, feeling ready to take a nap. Oscar steps away, deciding it’s more awkward to say nothing than to at least say hello.

“Hi, y/n, right? I’m Oscar, we used to race against each in F2,” Oscar extends his hand, unsure if you remember him. A bit silly, seeing as how you hung out a good amount.

“Of course, I remember. Too many adventures to forget. I considered copying your tweet to announce my contract wasn’t getting extended,” you smile, showing you aren’t upset.

“I’m sorry, you were a good driver,” Oscar offers, but you shake your head. You won a couple races in F2, but that was a lot of luck.

“I hit my ceiling, and there wasn’t going to be a seat waiting for me since I wasn’t in an F1 driver academy. I still drive occasionally in Indycar to keep my license,” you push down the little bit of longing, watching drivers walk through the paddock.

“How did you get into acting?” Oscar asks, genuinely curious at how you got involved in the movie.

“It was a bit of a wild experience. I applied to stunt drive for the film, but they liked my look and I guess I act well enough. So I ended up with one of the leads, a racing prodigy. Some tips on being one would be greatly appreciated,” Oscar’s cheeks flame when you call him a prodigy. He’s too humble for that.

“I wouldn’t say that. You know racing better than most, if not all, the people working on the movie, so I know you will be okay,” Oscar reassures you.

“Y/n, come to the garage. We film in ten,” an assistant comes to get you. You hesitate, not quite wanting to end your conversation.

“I’ll walk with you?” Oscar suggests, knowing you must feel a little out of place despite looking like you are meant to be here.

“Thanks. I can’t tell you the last time I was in a Formula One garage,” you say, letting out a sigh of relief. You would normally insist that he goes to his post-race meetings, but the accompaniment is needed.

“Anything for an old friend and rival,” Oscar jokes causing you both to chuckle, easing what’s left of the awkward tension.

“Is Logan still your bestie? I know you both were close,” you ask, your helmet feeling heavy in your hand.

“We are still close. I’m sure he’d love to see you again. He used to have a crush on you,” Oscar reveals as you get close to the garage the production team set up, you think it might actually be functional too.

“Aww, maybe we should get dinner sometime. Are you still with Lily?” you ask, feeling pre-race jitters even though you are only doing a few laps. There needs good film for both you and Pitt, so you are taking the track at different Grand Prix races this year.

“Yeah, it’s going well. Text me when you have a free weekend, I’ll get McLaren to invite you as a guest,” Oscar smiles, observing you. “You’ve been doing this all your life, it’s just you, the car, and the track,” he reminds you, sensing the nerves.

“Thanks, Oscar. It was nice to see a familiar face,” you say before heading into the garage. You thought it would be a standard F2 car, but you were wrong, they modified it to look like an F1 car.

You inspect your car, mentally noting what they changed and how it might affect your drive. After a quick conversation with Mercedes engineers, you get into the car, testing your radio and doing some final checks. Once the FIA clears you, you exit into pit lane, careful not to speed.

You keep your breathing steady, focusing on the feel of the car. You’ve raced at Silverstone before, this is no different. You did your track walk, you’ve sim raced, you warmed up and have kept up with your race training. After a lap to warm up your tires, you drive like you are racing. Each turn feels natural, your muscle memory kicking in and the car responding nicely. Oscar was right, you’ve been driving all your life, it’s just you and the car. You don’t waste the opportunity, pushing the car to its limits, driving on the edge. You prove why you belonged in F2. Indycar is great, but it isn’t the same.

“Two more laps then bring it in,” you hear over the radio, and you can’t help but wish you could drive more. There will be other filming opportunities, but you won’t lie and say that you didn’t miss racing regularly.

When you bring the car in, you feel like you are on cloud nine.

“It drives great, I hope those laps were good enough,” you smile, pulling off your helmet and balaclava.

“Spectacular drive, I knew having you in the car was a good choice,” Lewis says, appearing beside you. He’s working as a consultant on the movie, but you haven’t actually met him yet.

“Sir Hamilton, wow, I, um, thank you so much. It means a lot coming from you,” you stumble over your words, almost dropping your helmet.

“You raced in F2, without the support of an academy, and won a couple races. You are a good driver,” Lewis further compliments you. If you were to die right now, you would have no objections.

“I am literally at a loss for words, you have no idea how much that means coming from you. You inspired me to keep racing,” you are torn between crying and melting into the ground out of happiness.

“I look forward to watching your other drives, you have talent. It’s disappointing that you didn’t get another contract,” Lewis says a little offhandedly before heading back to Mercedes.

“We are going to get shots of you in the garage,” you are informed, before being requested to go back to hair and makeup.

“This is what it looks like to be a driver. We all aren’t Carlos, we don’t look flawless right after a race,” you joke as you push back again the request, pulling your balaclava back on.

You spend the next hour filming, and a part of you misses when you would be meeting with your team instead after driving laps. As you wrap up and change into something that isn’t your racing suit, aka sweat pants and an old team hoodie, you cannot wait to get back to the hotel.

“Y/n!” you quickly recognize the American accent. Logan jogs to catch up with you.

“Hey, Logan. Sorry about qualifying, tough luck,” you smile sympathetically as he shrugs.

“Can’t do much when the car is slow. Congrats on the role, I’m glad you were able to find footing after not getting resigned,” he says, clearly aware of his uncertain future.

“There is still tomorrow,” you offer, hoping to reassure him a little.

“It was nice to see you drive again, you did some great laps. Was that an F1 car?” Logan asks, changing the topic.

“Modified F2 car. It was great, the car felt amazing,” you smile as Logan walks beside you. A small part of you hopes that a team will watch your drive and sign you.

“Well maybe one day you will get to drive one for real. After the race tomorrow we should go out for drinks,” Logan says, quickly adding on “you, me, and Oscar,” to the end.

“Sounds great, I missed you guys,” your car is parked in the opposite direction of Logan’s. You start walking away and Logan watches as you approach your car. As he is about to turn away, you turn back towards him. “Maybe we could grab drinks without Oscar sometime?” you yell, hoping you aren’t shooting the wrong shot and Oscar was right.

“I’d like that,” Logan calls back, his cheeks flushed. With a smile you turn back to your car, looking forward to the date.

You arrive to the Paddock early the next day, wanting to catch the F2 race. Trident invited you go visit, and you can’t deny you wanted to take the opportunity to network. It is also nice to catch up with your former team.

“Great drive, yesterday. You posted some pretty good times,” Maurizio compliments. You haven’t spoken much to your former team principal since you left F2.

“Thank you, it was nice to be behind the wheel again,” you take it gracefully, knowing there’s a fine line between demonstrating skill and boasting.

“Perhaps we can discuss a contract sometime,” he leaves you with those parting words and you can’t help but feel a buzz of excitement. You make sure to take your exit as soon as the race ends, not wanting to make anything awkward.

Earlier you received a text from someone at Mercedes telling you how to pick your paddock and hospitality pass. Lewis apparently asked them to invite you to watch from the Mercedes hospitality after your drive yesterday. So now you are on the hunt to find the hospitality.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you notice someone start walking beside you.

“Hey, Logan,” you don’t know why, but you can feel the heat of a blush creeping over your fac. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for?” You question, an attempt to distract him.

“I have time before the driver’s parade and I saw you out here,” Logan throws his arm around your shoulder.

“Lucky me, then. I was just on my way to Mercedes, want to show me where I’m going?” you smoothly ask, feeling your stomach flip in anticipation.

“That I can do,” he smiles down at you, happy to show you around. You make small talk as he points things out on your walk, and you don’t know any better so he takes you the long way.

“Hey, you are the girl in that F1 movie, the prodigy,” you instantly recognize Daniel Ricciardo. Logan is a little confused, not having many run-in’s with the VCARB driver, but he rolls with it.

“Yeah,” you nod, blushing from embarrassment. These guys are the best in the world and you are just imitating them.

“We drove in F2 together,” Logan interjects, causing Daniel to look at the two of you in surprise.

“Ah, sick! That’s so cool. Good to know there is a real driver in it. I gotta go but it was nice meeting you!” With that, the Honey Badger left, wearing his iconic smile.

“He is an interesting guy,” you can’t help but smile in amusement as you reflect on the interaction.

“You got that right. Have you met Alex and Lily? I’ll have to invite you to a race soon, give you a reason to hang around,” Logan says, turning up his flirting. He never got over his crush for you.

“I haven’t, and I hate to break the news, but Oscar called dibs on inviting me to the next race. Maybe you two can share custody,” you joke as you pass McLaren, only making it funnier.

The drop off at Mercedes was a bit rushed. Turns out, Logan lied about having plenty of time before the Driver’s Parade, but in his defense, he didn’t really look at a clock before stopping you. That was also how you met George Russell.

Unfortunately for Oscar and Logan, you had to cancel on post-race drinks. You got called back to the studio for an early shoot, meaning you left after the race and caught the next plane back to America.

The bright side is that there wasn’t a race the next week, so Logan took advantage and caught a flight to surprise you. He may be a guy, but he was able to pick up on the flirting the both of you were doing. Logan arrived at your hotel soon after you were done filming for the day, and knocked on the door. The only reason he knew your hotel room number is because he said he was going to doordash you food after the long few days.

“Thanks for bringing it to my room, here’s an extra-“ you stop mid sentence when you realize it isn’t a dasher at your hotel room door.

“I hope McDonald’s is okay? I’ve been craving fries,” he smiles, amused by your stunned reaction.

“I don’t know whether I want to cry or hug you,” you open the door wider so he can enter the room.

“This isn’t how I pictured our first date,” you comment after a few minutes of eating food that you probably shouldn’t be and watching comfort movies. Logan almost chokes on his fry.

“I’ll make it up to you then, take you out on a proper date,” he vows.

“I like this, though. Our lives are so crazy anyway,” you smile to yourself as he wraps an arm around you, letting you get closer to him. The both of you enjoy small talk throughout the movie, your head ending up on his shoulder, fighting off the sleep that threatens to creep in.

Logan hears your soft snores as the movie ends and quietly watches you. He ponders just falling asleep too, claiming you both dozed off during the movie, but it feels too soon. So, he carefully wakes you up so it seems like you didn’t doze off.

“I didn’t realize it was so late,” you comment, unsure if you fell asleep or not.

“I didn’t either. I should go, early flight and all that,” Logan grimaces, not ready to leave.

“Do you have a hotel room? You can stay here if needed,” you offer.

“No, no, it’s okay. I got a room for the night. I wouldn’t want to impose,”

“Well, I had a great time. I look forward to our next,” you smile, face close to Logan’s. He strongly debates kissing you, but he doesn’t want to screw this up, so he slowly pulls away.

“I do too. Sleep well,” with a boyish smile, he quietly exits. You lay back in the bed with a content sigh.

You and Logan dated quietly, not wanting to make a big deal out of things. The fans loved it when you hung out with him, Oscar, and some other drivers from your F2 days. They especially loved it when Trident announced you would be rejoining the team next season, right after filming finishes.

The best part about driving F2 was that you could skip a lot of the press tour stuff, but you did try. Somehow, you got Logan to agree to attend the London premiere with you. It was a big deal, all of the grid is expected to attend.

He is the first out of the car once you reach the red carpet, quickly making his way to your door so he can assist you out.

“Are you ready?” he asks with a slightly nervous smile. It’s your first public outing as a couple, despite your soft launching.

“With you? Always,” you confidently take the red carpet, answering questions and posing for cameras. At some point, Oscar and Lily join you both, happy to take group pictures.

“There is our star,” Oscar says when they arrive.

“Thank you for being here! I’m excited for everyone to see it,” you smile, a little on edge around so many Formula One legends. You swear you even saw Guenther Steiner walk past you.

“I didn’t know you two were dating,” George says once you make it inside where everyone is mingling.

“I convinced her somehow,” Logan smiles at you, clearly enamored.

“Well, you two look great together. Let’s get coffee sometime,” George says before walking away. Logan just signed with Mercedes, and you were so proud. He tried to play it down, but you made sure to celebrate it.

“How are you feeling?” Logan asks, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“A little nervous, it’s a great movie, but I’m nervous. There’s been some recent negativity because I’m a driver and starred in the movie. Something to do with pushing the female driver agenda,” you shift your weight back and forth. Logan pulls you close to him, providing a support as you take the moment to relax before starting your rounds again.

“Ah, there she is! Y/n, let me introduce you to some friends of mine,” Brad Pitt says as you walk past him with Logan. You stay for a minute before Logan provides an exit plan.

“I think we should head to our seats, don’t want to miss the movie,” he says, smoothly allowing you to leave and go into the theater. You are seated beside Lewis, who has mentored and coached you this season.

Before you know it, the movie is starting. The scene pans down from the sunset to your car flying on the track. As you turn the corner, an engineer is shown analyzing your data with a headset on. Silently, other motion to screens, nodding along with a comment. All you can hear is the roar of the engine on track as the engineer activates his radio.

“Box box,”

[sapphoherselz]

howdy!! two literal people have asked for some andreil rec so here they are!! my most favest fics EVER in the first 60 ao3 pages (I'll keep updating tho as I read!)

Not yours to bleed:

The Pros were never in the cards. Not for an ex-medicated alleged psychotic with a dysfunctional family and an Exy career he’d rather not have. But even if it wasn't his first choice, no matter what happens, it can’t possibly be worse than that one fucked up sophomore year when he stood toe to toe with the Yakuza-and won.

At least, that’s what Andrew thinks until a familiar face shows up.

Another Raven!Neil AU. Or, the one where the boys don’t meet until the Pros.

 

**Updates every other Wednesday, whatever hell may come.**

The Sun Still Rises:

Somewhere on the road, Mary Hatford gets pregnant with her second child. When she passes, she leaves behind not only Neil, but his toddler brother. Survival is difficult without also raising a kid. Worn out and desperate, Neil still somehow ends up at Palmetto, only this time, he brings his four-year-old brother with him.

TALE OF A MARTYR IN XII PARTS:

Neil closes his eyes and counts the things that he knows:

One: Death has a name.

Two: He has met Death before. Several times, in fact.

Three: Someone is trying to kill him. Permanently. But it's only kind of working.

Or, the one in which Andrew is the Grim Reaper, Neil is very, very good at dying, over and over and over again. They teach each other a few things over the centuries.

Hearthlines:

The Fae king and queens have gone away, closing the knowes behind them and abandoning their offspring to the mortal world. As the Fae have spread far and wide, their bloodlines thinning if not vanishing forever as they flee from mortal persecution... two Fae have found a way to reopen the knowes - Kayleigh Day and Tetsuji Moriyama. The Fae regroup once more, the balance of power shifted amongst them, and 'changelings' appear now and then in the mortal population.

Andrew Doe is one of those changelings, a young child suffering in the foster system, shunned by his peers for some reason and hearing voices in his head.

Alex - the latest name gifted to him by a charm - is on the run along with his mother from his father, using their talents as shadow walkers to slide between worlds and stay one step ahead of the powerful Fae. Except even that is not enough anymore. Except that's not Alex's only talent.

*******

An urban fantasy where I throw Fae, necromancy and magic at TFC characters, pretty much!

Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die):

Neil Josten goes to the Nest for Andrew, but he stays for a lot more.

~

"I'm sorry Coach," he muttered.

"For what kid?" Wymack shifted. "You've got to give me something to work with here."

Wymack watched the thin traces of sorrow as paper exchanged hands and he was looking down at a contract with the Edgar Allan Raven's.

"I signed them Coach, I'm sorry."

~

The one where Neil doesn't come back from Winter Break.

Amor Vincit Omnia:

“I said it already,” the man said, “Your cluster.”

“But what does that mean?” Neil asked.

“It means that you are no longer just you,” the man said tersely, “Congratulations.”

It didn’t feel like anything worth celebrating.

A Sense8 AU where the foxes all share one subconscious and kick a lot of ass

The Real Thing:

Andrew was more than willing to turn down the Ravens' offer to be their newest goalie, unwilling to play five more years of Exy - let alone for someone with a too-sharp smile and a manic gleam in their eyes.

That was, until he realized that a member of their Perfect Court was his soulmate. (That was, until Riko Moriyama realized that Nathaniel Wesninski, the Ravens' #3 in waiting, was Andrew's soulmate.)

Andrew always knew that Fate loved tormenting him, he didn't need a reminder yet again via a too-attractive soulmate who appeared to loathe him. Yet things aren't always what they seem, especially in the Nest.

mad girl says she's wolf-proof:

Keeping her grip light on Nina’s throat, Andrea drops her gaze to her plump lips. She smiles—coldly, slowly. Fangs on fangs. Salt tombstones. It is not a nice smile, none of Andrea’s smiles are, but Nina’s eyes are stuck in it regardless. “And I will answer, all the better to eat you with.”

 

(Andrea Dobson vs girlhood and lycanthropy.)

lessons in caretaking:

Neil was acting shifty, and Andrew knew why; that motherfucker was leaving. Despite the promise between them, Neil was prepping to run. Andrew wasn't upset about that, not at all. After all, if notorious Neil "No-Swing" Josten needed to leave after Andrew admitted his desires regarding his proximity to Neil's shorts, who was Andrew to stop him. But that doesn't explain why Neil was stealing socks, or why he wanted Andrew's clothes.

Whatever. That was probably unrelated.

Sauntering Vaguely Downwards:

They’ve known each other since the Beginning. Not the Beginning Beginning—they didn’t meet until after the War in Heaven, where they kept to their own sides, or until after the subsequent Fall. It wasn’t even until after the Exodus from Eden, but only by a couple minutes. They’ve witnessed the rise and fall of empires, sampled all the cuisines the world has to offer, and weathered several very silly fashion trends.

Andrew doesn’t think they’re friends, exactly, but it is natural to become accustomed to the presence of the only other being who has been around more or less consistently for six millennia. It wasn’t anything more meaningful than that.

A Good Omens AU where Andrew is a grumpy angel, Neil is a sharp-tongued serpent, and it takes them literally six thousand years to figure out they belong together.

[daryfromthefuture]

i have another wild au concept i need to share: bttf shifted like 40 years forward and marty and doc meet online (maybe during the covid pandemic even?)

doc has some sort of username that's just "science_guy_121" or something and he like. replies to martys instagram story at some point where marty maybe just had to tag random ass accounts for a challenge. marty didn't expect anyone to reply but doc was like "Thank you for tagging me! 😃" and marty knows just from this message that doc is OLD lmao

marty goes "yeah no prob" and doesn't think he'll talk to the guy ever again, but doc just keeps messaging him. they find out they share an interest in music and ramble about bands a lot.

the man does know about internet anonymity and doesn't say his name, but he does say how old he is at some point and marty probably should be concerned about talking to 60 year olds online at like 13/14 years old, but he really isn't since the guy is so friendly. he does ask at some point, and doc is just super confused as to why anyone would even have bad intentions and assures marty he just likes talking to people, and that topic is never brought up again

a year later or so, marty convinces doc to get discord, and that happens at like two in the morning, so doc asks what's keeping the kid awake and marty goes on to tell doc about his family situation. doc is really empathetic and grows to be martys support system, and even as an online friend, he helps marty so much, talking to him at 3 am to calm him after hearing his parents fight all night. doc also helps him with schoolwork via internet, essentially helping marty pass several classes.

in early 2025, doc leaks that he's building something really cool and that he'd love to show marty his new invention, to which marty goes "damn, i wanna come see. may i ask which city u live close to" and doc replies with "Oh, I believe San Francisco seems adjacent enough." marty cannot believe this and texts "NO WAY, SAME HERE".

doc: That's quite the coincidence! Well, I might as well say I live in a small town called Hill Valley.

marty: WHAT

doc: Yeah, I'd assume you've never heard of it. 😂

marty: NO NO

marty: I ACTUALLY

marty: I LITERALLY AM FROM THE SAME TOWN?!?!

and that's how marty finds out he's been talking to the "crazy doc brown" the ENTIRE TIME lol

the two can, without any trouble, meet in person, and the first thing marty does when getting to the garage is apologize profusely for still laughing about the rumors about doc while texting him online about how kind he was at the same time. doc forgives him, and that's how they basically start spending time together in person. marty's screen time goes down significantly, but he's actually so goddamn happy about having a friend like that and will defend doc with his life.

yeah that's kinda it. also a bit of a homage to all the awesome people i have met on the internet. love you guys <3

[leporellian]

actually i'm going to talk about the met's weird thing with the rust belt more because it was definitely one of those things where a few years ago when the new met lucia was in development i was like, oh cool i wonder what they'll do with that, but now that we're here... man does it leave a bad taste in the mouth.

here's a question for you: Why Do So Many Operas Take Place In Seville?

seville is the setting for some hundreds of operas, including many of the famous ones: the barber of seville, carmen, la forza del destino, the marriage of figaro, fidelio, don giovanni (which actually might not take place in seville but given don juan stories up to them did it sticks)... the list keeps going. and there was a legitimate reason for this- for hundreds of years, seville was seen as a seedy and sexualized location where anything could happen. that exoticism carries over into the plot of many of the Seville Operas, which often feature seductions, crimes, and passion stories that fit neatly into the tales of the seedy city.

opera is about, in a lot of ways, EXOTICIZING OTHER PLACES. the spectacle of a setting was often a major part of the excitement of seeing a new opera, especially in the 19th century. but some of these places 'work' better than others, for a variety of reasons that boil down to the politics of representation and who is being who onstage.

seville works as an Exotic Opera Location Du Jour for multiple reasons. for one thing, if you notice, a lot of the seville operas take place 60-100+ years before the composition of the opera. for example, the marriage of figaro and don giovanni were composed in 1786 and 1787 respectively, and both depict 1600s seville. if you were writing a Seville Opera right now, for comparison, it would probably take place between 1890 and 1960- there's enough of a time gap that exploring the world as a more fantastical setting is easier to swallow. for another, seville is in western europe, and many of the composers depicting it were also from western europe. there is an evened playing field. (THERE IS A NOTABLE EXCEPTION about this that I WILL GET TO SOON.) finally, now that these operas are over a century old, we're even more removed from their concept of 'seville' and the 'seville' in operas has been turned into something of a convenient fantasy location in which to put an opera. it's something out of a medieval times dinner and tournament and not necessarily meant to be Actual Real Seville at all, which works fine because Seville Operas work without needing much context about the location. don jose is a soldier, you don't need to know what seville soldiers' duties were. figaro is a barber, you don't need to know what barbers in seville were like. and so on.

but there are other opera locations that don't serve this purpose as well- often nonwhite regions appropriated by white composers. the incredibly warped conceptions of egypt that show up in aida and the magic flute, the looking-glass japan of madama butterfly, the brief moment in which la fanciulla del west wherein the opera remembers the existence of native american peoples... suddenly the make-believe of exoticism goes away and is replaced by a sour feeling because in many cases these cultures could not have a say on their own depictions in the operatic world, while the western europeans featured in the operas that exoticize locations like seville or paris could.

carmen is an interesting case study in Opera Exoticism because it features a location that is fine enough to exoticize (early 1800s seville) and a titular character that is not. carmen was- and, in many productions, is still- written as romani. she embodies many negative stereotypes about the culture- she is seductive, morally ambiguous, a smuggler, a femme fatale. yet we as an audience are made to sympathize with her. she is honest about who she is, accepting of the hard truths that are given to her; she is close to her friends and her crueler moments come across as more of an ill-planned joke than a real sense of antipathy. carmen is both a product of how romani people were written by white men in her time, and progressive in that we root for her against the (white) don jose. (and it should be noted that she knows that if he kills her he will be executed for it- carmen is about a mutual kill.) a good carmen production will evaluate all of these features and include them into the work somehow; be it through metatextual commentary, or careful representation, or understanding of what the audience is seeing.

anyway, now that we've covered all that, let's go look at The Met Opera's Current Fascination With Lower Class American Communities and see what we find there.

the rust belt and the sun belt have captured the imagination of the met opera recently, as seen in their current productions of lucia di lammermoor and carmen. these settings are depicted as grimy, miserable, and joyless; women are thrown around by men, men are depicted as one-dimensional monsters that are not to be understood or seen into. the cruelty is the point- these productions do not treat lower-class americans as people to relate to or understand. the sole exceptions are lucia- who is made out to be something of an outsider, so the audience can relate to her- and carmen, who is misinterpreted into being a sad woman who just wants love (god forbid a woman have some other motivation). the racial issues that dominate the cultural conversation in america are unspoken of in these productions, even when there is an opportunity to; this becomes especially uncomfortable in carmen, where the above history of carmen as a nonwhite woman and the opera's setting on the US-Mexico border (with the soldiers cast as border agents!) goes unmentioned in the name of 'heightening the class and gender inequality'- both of which were already in the original work along with the race inequality! these productions are both directed by non-american white people. simon stone is from australia, carrie cracknell is from britain. why would they want to depict this setting? because they see it as a dark, cynical den of seediness and repressed sexuality- a world where we don't have to worry about empathy, or broader implications, because the people in these settings do not go to the met- a world where we can look on with revulsion and unease.... this crosses the line from exoticism into fetishization, in which lower class people become pawns for the met to use as set dressing.

this is especially uncomfortable because of opera's long history being seen as a 'rich people hobby'. opera is characterized as snobbish, useless, reprehensible; an art form that exists only to please the rich and the white and the male-dominated. all of which is not true! i believe to the bottom of my heart that everybody deserves a night at the opera, and that there is an opera for everyone, and everybody should feel welcome in the opera house (or other opera space du jour). and there are so many people working to change the industry from the inside, particularly the work of artists of color to broaden the opera canon and depictions of that canon as we know them. but as long as the met continues to use poor people as set dressing instead of bothering to communicate with them in a meaningful way, as long as the met sees these settings as places where brutes live instead of human beings, that stereotype of the rich man's hobby is going to continue. and the met is going to suffer for it- as i suspect that, as time goes on, the voyeuristic lens of these operas into the lives of abused lower-class women will be seen as more and more revolting.

TLDR

[presidentstalkeyes]

Pines Family Headcanons (Take 2)

I know I already did something like this, but that was a while ago and my headcanons have evolved since then, and my fixation brain is in Pines mode again so here we go! (Mostly focused on the Mystery Twins but with some attention to the older generations scattered about)

Past:

The first member of the Pines family to arrive in America in the 1800s was Gabriel Penzak, a Sephardic Jew from somewhere in the Balkans. His last name was changed to Pines at Ellis Island, and his family later assimilated into the majority-Ashkenazi Jewish community in New Jersey. He was the father of Elmer Pines and grandfather of Filbrick.

Filbrick was the youngest of four brothers (the others were Philip, Fillmore and Fulton). He was the 'weakest' of the four, compensating with his intellect and business sense. He was also born with highly sensitive eyesight - flashes of light would blind him for hours - requiring dark glasses later in life.

His eyesight also meant he was passed over for the draft in WWII. Since all three of his brothers died in the war, this possibly saved his life. As a young man, he operated and maintained film projectors at a traveling carnival, under a boss who taught him many tricks (and bore a resentment towards 'freak show' acts, viewing them as talentless). It was here he met - and accidentally impregnated - his future wife Caryn.

Caryn Romanoff's parents were Pavel, a grizzled sailor, and Tanya, a fortune-teller - both Ukrainian Jews who fled to America to escape persecution from Stalin's Soviet Union. She also had two siblings - older brother Dimitri, a troublemaker and later hatchet-man for the Mafia (never a made man due to his non-Italian ancestry, but close enough for his family to disown him) and little sister Shprintze, who was married three times and had five children in total, all of them named after Roman emperors (except for her only daughter Cleopatra).

Filbrick and Caryn's first son was Shermie, born in 1947. Their second sons, Stanford and Stanley, came 8 years later in 1954. Shermie was a star athlete in high school and always kinda distant from his little brothers, in addition to being Filbrick's obvious favourite. Also a notorious flirt and brought many girls back to the pawn shop (and distracting Stanford from his homework with the resulting noises), and tattled on Stanley for bringing a possum into the store, forcing him to let Shanklin go. Was later drafted into the Vietnam War in the 60s, missing out on Stan's eviction from the house. When he returned from the war, the first thing he did after finding out he was a brother short was to track down Ford and deck him in the face.

While in Hawaii on R&R, Shermie started a relationship with a local waitress called Wikiola Kale. After getting pregnant with his daughter, Wikiola got a plane ticket all the way to NJ to ask Shermie's parents to look after the child, being too poor to raise a child herself. Filbrick almost slammed the door in her face until Caryn intervened. The baby - Louise - was the one in Caryn's arms the night Stan was kicked out.

Louise Pines first grew up in Glass Shard, then moved to L.A. after her dad married a rich businesswoman called Fiona Safesmith (the relationship with Wikiola having not worked out). Fiona was a less-than-ideal stepmom, trying to force her daughter to go into acting and disparaging her interest in DD&D and mystery novels. She also cheated on her husband after an old war injury acted up and he lost the use of his legs, and later went to prison for tax fraud.

Louise would later get a degree in criminology and met a computer geek, amateur ufologist and 'radical cool dude' called Emile Sauvageon (who ran away from a strict, isolated religious family). They started a relationship and had twins in 1999: Mason and Mabel.

Present:

Dipper and Mabel's full names are Mason Emile Pines and Mabel Louise Pines, respectively.

Lou and Em only moved to Piedmont on Shermie's recommendation (and with his money). They would regularly clash with their neighbours for their 'weird' habits (and refusing to maintain their lawn). They considered themselves the arch-enemies of the local HWA.

Em worked at a fancy silicon valley tech start-up, while Lou was a private investigator (the boring realistic kind that mostly deals with insurance fraud and the occasional adulterer).

When he was little, Emile used to wow his son with stories about he was secretly an awesome space pirate with a cosmic ancestry, evidenced by Dipper's birthmark. And Dipper believed him. Really believed him. When his dad finally told him the truth, he did not take it well. Dipper also butted heads with his mom a lot over the existence of the supernatural - she would encourage him to examine things rather than blindly accept them, but he'd often think she was just doubting him for no reason. In short, he had some trust issues with his parents.

Dipper did have some friends in elementary school, but most of them moved away, and in middle school he alienated his fellow nerds after he was kicked out of the tabletop gaming club for being too rules lawyer-y. The resulting slump also lead to him falling behind on band practice.

Mabel is asexual and aromantic, but didn't realize it until much later. Finding she was drifting apart from her friends, she wrongfully attributed it to not having a crush (in truth they simply started to see her as immature and embarassing to be around - you know how kids can get :V). Not wanting to be 'left behind', she dedicated the summer in Gravity Falls to getting a romance as 'proof' that she was a totally grown-up big gal now (while her only reference material were 80s animated comedies and age-inappropriate romance novels).

Mabel very nearly didn't get to go to Gravity Falls at all - she was in danger of being forced to go to summer school due to poor grades (unlike her brother - and like her Grunkle Stan - she experienced great difficulty with any subject involving figures and rote memorization, especially math, the sciences, and computer studies). Only a week of late-night cram sessions spared her from this fate.

Contributing to the above, she also suffered from a form of anterograde amnesia - she would easily forget things that happened just the day before - sometimes even less - until presented with a reminder, usually in the form of an object or person, often her brother. She originally started scrapbooking to help her remember things. This wasn't diagnosed until a year after that summer.

Dipper was in the Boy Scouts in 2011. He hated the experience, camping out in the woods with no games or books, not relating to the other boys and resenting being ordered around by his hardass ex-army Scoutmaster. But he did get a merit badge in astro-navigation, so that's something.

Mabel had a brief stint in the Girl Scouts as well. She quit after an attempt to sell cookies somehow ended with her troop being chased out of a neighbourhood by a knife-wielding maniac in a bathrobe. To this day she's only told Dipper the full story.

One time, Dipper watched Small Soldiers and subsequently destroyed all his action figures checking them for military control chips. He was also banned from Chuck E. Cheese after his 7th birthday when he checked the animatronics for anything suspicious and made Pasquale's head fall off in front of everyone (on the same trip, Mabel tried to get the animatronic band freed from their exploitative contract so they could pursue their true musical potential).

One of Mabel's favourite movies is Rocky IV. For a long time she genuinely believed that's how the Cold War ended and was very disappointed to learn that wasn't the case.

Mabel had a bug-catching phase when she was 10, spurred on by all the creepy-crawlies that would nest in their unmaintained lawn. She'd catch bugs in jars and invite them to have tea and review movies with her. This came to an end after one of the jars smashed and released fireflies all over the house. She was finding descendants of Francisco the Firefly living in the basement as late as 2014.

Lou and Em were not getting divorced - they merely had a fight about paying off their mortgage after Em lost his job, and Dipper simply overreacted and assumed the worst. They sent the kids away that summer while they got their affairs in order. In the end, they had to sell the house and move into a cheaper apartment in Oakland.

Future:

When they first returned from Gravity Falls, the twins' grades took a nosedive as they had difficulty re-adjusting to mundane life, experiencing frequent traumatic episodes and refusing to follow instructions. Their parents had to be called in multiple times after both twins got into a fight in the hallway because another kid made up some dumb rumour that they'd joined a cult or had been abused by their 'creepy uncle', or were just faking their episodes for attention. They were only spared mandatory counseling thanks to emergency 'how to pretend to be normal' coaching from the Grunks.

Dipper has to start wearing glasses a few months after leaving Gravity Falls. Mabel of course made fun of this, thinking that only the male Pineses turn short-sighted (and forgetting about her mom). She had to start wearing glasses at 16, to which Dipper only replied by smugly grinning at her.

In high school, Mabel started a knitting club, which ended up being the most popular club in school - mostly because she insisted that it was a safe space for anyone, and anyone who tried anything funny would have their lives made hell. In her clubroom, nerds, preps, goths and jocks sat side-by-side in peace.

Mabel also took up sports, especially wrestling, becoming captain of the girls' wrestling team by Junior year. She took up a high-protein diet to build her strength - this combined with a childhood spent binging candy finally catching up to her lead to her putting on a lot of weight. By adulthood she's developed what she calls a 'sumo bod' - chubby, but strong (and great for hugs).

Meanwhile, Dipper took up track and gymnastics while regularly going to the gym - to the shock of everyone, as getting pre-Gravity Falls Dipper to exercise was like pulling teeth. If he was gonna have to brave another apocalypse, he didn't want to be saddled with noodle arms. By his 20s, the combination of his 'baby face' with his square jaw and muscular body has attracted a good amount of attention from girls (and boys) - attention he is alternately mildly perturbed by or totally oblivious to.

Dipper also devoted extra effort to his art skills, hoping to achieve the same level as Ford. Sometimes he'd climb up onto rooftops to get a good view of the landscape to draw, and then add a completely gratuitous monster because why not?

Despite his best efforts, Dipper was never able to overcome Mabel's height advantage. In fact, in their teen years she gained a few extra inches on him.

Dipper still regularly wears hats even as an adult - though he's no longer self-conscious about his birthmark, he's been wearing hats for so long it feels weird not to. It's like his 'thing' - Mabel has her sweaters, he has his hats.

Past his school years, Dipper mostly goes by Mason, especially with strangers - 'Dipper' is reserved for friends and family.

Dipper got a doctorate in forensic science at college, and also interned at a coroner's office. He also did some work as a runner on a film set, but the experience at the Used To Be About History Channel soured him on show business. Instead, after getting his doctorate he decided to take up Ford's offer to apprentice under him from years before, hoping to become a paranormal investigator in his own right (incidentally, Candy Chiu took the same offer, and now they work together).

Mabel went to college too, but didn't particularly want to, only going because she felt pressured. She ended up dropping out after the first year and still feels aimless, not knowing what to do with her life. She currently still lives with her parents and has a decently fulfilling job at an independent haberdashery (sweaters will always be there for her), but she's not sure that's what she wants to do.

Both twins are adored by Soos and Melody's 6-year-old kids (also twins) - they're considered honourary Uncle DipDip and Aunt MayMay.

When he turned 16, Soos gave Dipper his old truck - as much as he liked it, he can't exactly stick his kids in the cargo bay. Mabel meanwhile drives the Mabel-Mobile, an old Soviet military van painted pink with a huge shooting star mural, plus a liberal amount of graffitti and bumper stickers. Where she got it remains a mystery - not even she seems to remember.

Mabel has a serious weakness for booze. She experimented a lot with various substances during her brief time at college, but cocktails really stuck. When she's drunk, she tends to shift between giddy and sentimental, grumpy and ranty, and depressed and regretful. You know she's had too much when she starts singing about 'Lady Apocalypse'.

Dipper never got as into that stuff himself, but he was introduced to weed by Wendy, relying on it to calm his anxieties during exam season. He's currently trying to wean himself off it by means of alternate herbal cigarettes.

Waddles had to be sent back to Gravity Falls after a few years, since he rapidly grew too big to keep at Piedmont. He currently lives in a lean-to next to the Shack that Soos built. He still regularly sees Gompers, to Mabel's delight.

Wendy also got both twins into tattoos, convincing Mabel to get a huge shooting star on her upper right arm. For her 18th birthday she also got a special pair of tats on the forearms - a pair of arrows with the right marked 'Fasten In Case Of Hug!'. Dipper was reluctant at first, but caved when Mabel designed him a 'pine tree heart' emblem, which he wears on his right shoulder.

Both twins are in a special 'Never Mind All That' group chat, along with almost everyone else in the Zodiac, plus Candy and Grenda (but not Gideon). Mabel had the idea for a 'hotline' of sorts that they could message whenever the old post-apocalypse trauma started acting up - knowing from experience how important is to have people to remind you they're there.

Every year on the anniversary of the end of Weirdmageddon, both twins visit Bill's petrified body, and scribble tally marks on his face - one for each year, alternating between Dipper's blue marker and Mabel's pink one (this is something I've already mentioned elsewhere but I felt like it deserved to be at the end. :P)

[sokacoke]

Compiling some questions and information regarding indigo park from unique geese's live streams.

Some clips might not be long enough for the full answer due to YouTube only being 60 seconds so just keep that in mind.

A bit of the older ones could contain stuff that aren't up to date that I forgot to remove because I was making this in my notes for like 3-5 weeks so lets uh. ignore those!! (ill delete them later maybe)

IF I SCREAM THE STREAM ENDS

'I think comparing Issac to fucking Willam afton is such a sad comparison'

Credits to @lunozapp for the clip

INDIGO Q&A 

“Will there be any boss fights?”

‘That’s a hard thing to say. I’m gonna say no.’

“How old are Rambley and his friends?”

'They’re all over 18. Probably around there early 20s at oldest.  They’re younger but I don’t really have set ages for them.'

“Would Indigo park be rated M?”

'I would argue indigo park chapter 1 could get away as teen but I’d like to rate it up as a M by chapter 2.'

“Is chapter 2 going to take place under the park?”

'No. There might be parts under but chapter 2 won’t.'

“Rambley has been left alone since the park closed. Has he practically sat alone for that long?”

'In all technicality, he was sitting there alone and abandoned for many years. He’s not fully aware of what’s going on, but he is you know?” 

“Do you have any plans for future chapters?”

'The entire greater story has been set in stone for months and we don’t have any plans to change it.'

'There’s stuff in chapter 1 that people won’t realize are important to the plot until chapter 5.'

“Is mollie macaw an antagonist?”

'Depends what you’re saying when you say mollie macaw. Antagonist is a strong word.'

LAUNCH STREAM

“Is the raccoon evil?”

'No. You guys just buckle up. you’ll see.'

REACTING TO YOUTUBERS 

“Did you expect for Rambley to be popular with the furries?”

‘I made a joke that it would be popular within it but nothing in the game was designed to be furry. It was just like “hey we need parody’s of Mickey Mouse and Disney characters” ending up creating characters I really liked.'

“Do you know that there’s already NFSW art of Rambley?”

'It’s the internet sorry. If you make NFSW stuff I just ask you don’t send it to me or inject it to the rest of the community. Keep it separate, these are like my children.'

“How many versions of the railroad did u go through?”

'It took quite a while. We would get to a point where we kind of liked it and then be like “oh I don’t really like this it doesn’t flow really well.” I think the great thing going into chapter 2 we have a better understanding of what we want the game to look. Chapter 2s going to be mainly a lot of the rides. It was kind a deal where I wanted you to feel claustrophobic but it was hard to deal with those open environments. I’m not gonna announce anything crazy but chapter 2 will start in the queue and lobby for oceanic oddesy'

“How many chapters will there be?”

'The game plan is five.'

“Is this the last time we will see Mollie? Her death screen mentions she can copy voices but that wasn’t shown. Will be shown again to do that mechanic?”

'The voices were less of a mechanic and more of showing going on when she’s talking throughout the game. All the dialogue is something she’s heard during game,behind the scenes of the park or something that a guest has said.'

“Is Rambley the bad guy?”

'What part of the game made you think Rambleys the bad guy? No.'

“I trust Rambley with my life. If he betrays us I’ve already forgiven him.”

'Yeah, you don’t need to worry about that.'

“Whys the main character so jacked?”

'It’s just the character model I had I was using. We might change it.'

Critter cuff

'I was big against the idea of having one mechanic. They saw poppy playtime and instantly thought “every mascot horror needs a mechanic.” The critter cuffs important but I also want different fun mechanics that can be worked into it.'

“Do you plan to add more characters?”

'There will be more characters added into chapter 2. There may some returning characters. Obviously Rambley will be the focus of every chapter he’s ur buddy through ur journey. We do have a new set of characters.'

“Will there be another credits song in chapter 2?”

'We don’t want to start planning stuff until we know for sure how much money is there budget wise.'

“Where’s the cat?”

'There originally was just a regular ass cat that was in the and was in the game for quite a while. The model we had didn’t look like it fit the world and the animation looked stiff. Maybe we bring it back.'

“What were the stealth things in the files for?”

'Originally there was a section where Lloyd would follow you and you’d hide. I definitely want to do some stealth stuff where you have to hide under stuff I think that’d be a lot of fun.'

“Will Mollie return?”

'Do you think Mollie will return?'

“Is Rambley sentient?”

'He’s fully aware of everything around him but he’s programmed to behave a certain way. The best comparison would be GLaDOS or Wheatley from portal. Programmed to act a certain way, but also aware and able to see stuff around them and react.'

“How long will chapter 2 be?”

'We’re aiming chapter 2 to be just a little bit longer then chapter 1. We want each chapter to be a bit longer than before. I’d say for chapter 2, two and a half

'The only character that won’t have much influence is clearly Mollie.'

“What about Lloyd?”

'Lloyd’s cool and Lloyd will be important. That is all I can say.'

“Will there be other AI companions?”

'No. It’s just Rambley the main mascot.'

“Is there a possibility of a major overhaul of chapter 1?”

'There’s room to improve it a bit. In the future, I can see us doing a full on remaster of chapter 1.'

“Never make Rambley a creep I will not forgive you for it”

'You got it.'

“What’s the estimated gap between the chapters?”

'Year to Year and a half, maybe two. Chapter 2 is definitely 2025.'

“Don’t be fooled?”

'There was a lot more potential do something with that. If we had more budget then it would be really cool where you’re running through the pipes and you have to listen for Rambleys voice through the pipes and sometimes it would be mollies voice. It would be Rambley guiding you and then you hear Mollie trying to sound like Rambley.'

“It hurts Lloyd”

'That’s the funny thing. I don’t wanna get TOO deep into it but this was kinda just random text. I’ve seen 5 or 6 different interpretations of what people think it says.'

'Without spoiling anything I do think multiple ending’s for the final chapter would be kinda cool.'

REACTING TO MATPAT

“A lot of sexual tension between these guys”

'Shout out to the furries because I’ve seen every combination of characters being shipped and it wasn’t until today that a single female character was involved that all. Not mollie not Nonbinary with Salem it was literally just the 3 men'

“Does Rambley canonically sing Rambley review?”

'Yes he actually does. It’s in between chapter whenever ur going into chapter 2. The player could turn around and find a way out now but he actively wants to keep going with Rambley.'

TALKING ABOUT INDIGO PARK,FNF AND MORE

“The voice and creator of indigo park”

'I don’t voice anyone expect for Jackson and another character that no ones found yet.'

“Are you ever going to get a console support?”

'So we will eventually but to be honest with you I don’t want to do that until we have like chapter 3 out. At earliest if chapter 2 becomes massive then maybe as a bundle, but I don’t know.'

“Is chapter 2 free?”

'No it won’t be.'

FUNKAST THEN FNAF

'Other then a few minor tweaks we have the first few minutes of Rambleys dialogue at the beginning of chapter 2 written out.'

'I don’t think we’ll ever do a fox character. We were brainstorming some of the characters in chapter 2 and thought “oh maybe a fox would be cool” but we were looking at the role that this character would have to play if they were a fox and thought “at some point we’re just making knock off foxy from fnaf”'

“What the species”

'I cant disclose that sorry chief. There are other animal based cartoon characters in chapter 2 if that satisfies you. Furries rejoice I guess? I feel like it’d be harder to do a human villain.'

“How hard is it to make an idea of a character?”

'All of the characters we make need a purpose. It’s layers of talking through stuff and ideas to get stuff we like. The designs for them aren’t done but the idea for them is there and i am in love with them.'

“So the character design isn’t finished but have you made actual development of the game?”

'No. We’re working on chapter 1 right now. Again we’re looking at a year and a half or two years until chapter 2 cuz I’m not gonna rush it or my team. We’ll have little animations stuff and between yeah we’re not gonna do anything with that.

“Update is bug fixes, trying to get controller support working,revamping some of the environments and I’m bringing on a new modeler for some of the monster designs. Not confirming but i think Finley is going to get a full on redesign for chapter 2.”

“What chapter are you most excited for?”

'To be honest with you, i think chapter 3 is where we’re going to start doing the crazy shit possible and then chapter 4 is planned to be the most bad ass chapter i could ever think of. The story gets moving chapter 4.'

NEW FNAF GAME + INDIGO PARK NEWS

'It turned out that jakeneutron who’s my head animator, was going to Disney at the same time I’m at Orlando. We met up and we took so many pictures for reference. We went to universal studios and it was my first time we ever went to universal so I took so many pictures'

“Refs for what?”

'For indigo park bro. Dude I needed anything theme park and I got so many ideas for the future of indigo and stuff.'

“Salem news or I’m not here”

'Do I wanna put out Salem news..Salem is important 👍'

'I’ve kind of teased it a bit but we are working on some minor chapter 1 before chapter 2 just so there’s a bit of a quality jump so it’s a little bit more in the realm of where we want it to be.'

'We are working on some environmental updates. Working on some new assets to put into chapter 1. Which should make stuff feel cooler in my opinion? '

'To accompany that one thing we didn’t have a lot of is that environmental music in regards to what they would have in a real theme park. Like if ur waiting in a queue in a theme park there’s a lot of music and stuff that they play that is custom to that. Let’s say you were waiting for Rambleys railroads, what would that sound like? So maybe a little bit of new music?'

New potential song in clip link

FINISHING INTO THE PIT & NEW INDIGO PARK PLUSH LAUNCH PARTY

“Character hints?”

'I think you will be soft introduced or at least see the character designs before chapter 2s out. Right now at this point of development there are four new characters planned.'

“Is there gonna have a obby theme?”

‘Probably not really. I’ve talked about a little about a mechanic that we started to workshop and figuring out how it’ll work in the lore and gameplay elements but I probably won’t talk about it again.'

“Will there be a haunted house ride or a dark ride?”

'I want to do a haunted mansion parody hopefully chapter 4 or 5. Not in chapter 2 it wouldn’t fit.'

“Space mountain?”

'I have ideas for a space mountain and I can’t tell you what chapter that one will be in.'

'It’s funny cuz I’m reworking all of the chapter 1 environments and I’ve been thinking about it. There’s a fair enough of stuff that theorists haven’t caught onto yet that I hope will be super obvious in the future. I’m super excited to see what people do with chapter 2.'

HORROR GAME NIGHT & TALKING INDIGO PARK

“Will you be selling art prints maybe with posters?”

'We might do posters. There’s some new poster art coming for chapter 2 and I’m gonna leak, the (chap 1) update.'

“Now will they all have villain roles?”

'I dunno. I’ve already told you guys about some of them actually you guys just haven’t figured it out yet'

Talking about the 4 new characters

'I will say the chapter 1 update will have new secrets for you to find and some of it will help you figure out stuff in chapter 2. We are cooking is all I can say.'

“Whats ur favorite out of the 4 originals we know about since u said 4 new characters”

'Yeah let me just reveal one of the characters. No. You guys won’t- actually? You guys will know about some of the characters WAY before chapter 2 comes out.'

BACK FROM PAX! - WATCHING JACKSEPTICEYE PLAY INDIGO PARK & CATCHING UP ON FNF MODS

'there’s a little bit of the new queue! A little bit of a step up. I mean hot take but. Looks a lot better I think.'

Queue in clip

'We’re still working on it but this is what Mollies landing pad looks like now. This feels more themed.'

New mollies landing pad in clip

“Can you make an update trailer for the indigo park update so people know it exists?”

'Yea we will. We’ll change it.'

Extra notes worth mentioning:

it’s been said that there will be a meme ending for chapter 3 though I’m not able to find the clip at the moment so if anyone somehow has it u should tots send it my way

When he's talking about the 'Other character he voices that no ones found yet' it might be possible he’s yapping about the reverse Llyods Limos line Context:

Video is from forgottenstudios1987 on YT

The cat been brought back!

Another part of the new rambleys railroad queue song.

More of the New Rambleys Railroad Third link is just a very subtle railroads gift shop but it counts i think

Other landing pad clip

FEEL FREE TO ADD ANY OTHER CLIPS I MIGHTVE MISSED!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for Pretending That My Dad Was Dead? So I (22 NB) work in retail, and we sell alcohol where I work. It's our store policy to physically scan IDs to make sure there's no restrictions and to make sure that they are real and not expired. In my time working (I've been at this for a little over a year now), I found that the worst people about this are men in their 40s-60s, and they get all huffy and throw actual temper tantrums about how they shouldn't have to show ID because it's obvious that they're over 21. Anyway, one of my coworkers had recently lost his father, and he usually cracks jokes because that's what his dad would have wanted, and one day he brought up his dead dad when a customer was giving him crap about the ID thing. One night, during a closing shift, one customer says "I'm old enough to be your dad!", and without any hesitation I replied, "The only difference between you and my dad is that you're still alive." This guy was super embarrassed because there were people in the line he was holding up, so he just gave me his ID, I rang him up, and he left as fast as he could. My Dad and my sister had visited me at work about a half hour before this, so he's very much alive. The customer behind the ID guy asked if I was okay, and told me that she was so sorry for my loss, and I had to explain that my Dad was actually, in fact, alive and was at the store a half hour ago. I told my Dad this when I got home from my shift, and he thought it was the funniest thing ever, and I agree, but I still feel bad for the customer behind ID guy.

What are these acronyms?

[solitarysixty]

Taken prisoner for 60 minutes but with no idea how much time is passing, it’s Inmate C-01’s challenge to correctly press the buzzer in the cell every 10 minutes.

If he’s close enough, he’ll win a cash prize and - perhaps more importantly - his freedom.

If he fails, he won’t just be leaving empty handed… He’ll also face another full hour as prisoner, this time with added manacles to make his sentence even more uncomfortable…

[glitt3r-litt3r]

So. Not to be crazy but here's a blurb of something I'm working on.

they're cowboys. it's the 90s. flashback to the 80's when steve stayed on the munsons land for a summer. it's BigSad. but also they're cowboysssss

1996 

Eddie is staring at Steve for the first time since the summer of 1985. Steve’s in jeans with a light blue button down, buttons all done like he’s waiting for a job interview. For a moment, Eddie thinks he’s hallucinating. Steve looks like a dream. Like he’s had dreams of this exact moment, running over to his boy to be met with a gorgeous smile smelling of honeysuckle and something expensive. Woken up out of breath, like he was running to catch something and always fell just a moment too short. He’s far off, maybe 60 feet and the sun is bright at sunset today. Tipping his hat down to get a better look he sees a tan hand rise to a wave. Golden hair, square jaw, broader now than he’d ever seen but it’s him. Steve, on his land again. This time, he’s not some punk kid and it’s not Wayne’s ranch anymore it’s Eddies.  

Eddie clicks his tongue once and takes off on Blue toward the yellow of the sunset by the house. The closer it gets the harder he fights the smile, by the time he reaches the gates he laughing in galloping whoops. Steve’s here in jeans and a shirt, that same smile he had at 17 looking all sure and somehow broken at the same time.  

Eddie stops Blue a couple feet away. It’s silly but something nags at the back of his mind that if he get’s too close he’ll spook Steve. Closer he’s even more handsome. Grown into himself, sure about the way he stands.  

“You lost or something?” Eddie says.  

Something unlocks in Steve's nervous belly. He knows what to say, what role to play. This is what he remembers so clearly over all these years. Eddie always made it easy to play along. That’s the exact thing 16-year-old Eddie said, on that same horse Blue, wearing that same hat, his momma’s. It’s Eddie, older and a daydream on that horse with those boots. Steve reminds himself he’s no longer 17 and that he can look wherever he wants. It doesn’t cross his mind that Eddie might even be taken. He had thought about that on the way over but it left as soon as he’d seen the silhouette of the rancher on his horse. Everything melted away in the late evening sun.  

“I'm lookin' for a cowboy. Don’t happen to know any do ya?” He drops his duffle as Eddie dismounts Blue holding her reins gently between his hand. 

“What’s this cowboy look like? Maybe I seen him around?” Eddie takes a couple steps forward. Not close enough to touch yet. Steve’s wondering if Eddie’s gotten taller somehow or maybe just bigger. His boots crunch on the ground confidently and his back has a straightness that Steve wants to follow down to his backside.  

“About six-foot-one, dark curly hair, wicked smile, something a little crazy behind his eyes,” They’ve gone off script now, its like playing with matches. Two boys in the dark of night lighting up matchsticks holding them until their fingers get burned just to see the other smile. 

“Crazy huh?” Eddie scratches his chin like he’s thinking. Steve notices the slight stubble. “Since you mention it there was one out there earlier, but he’s gone home now.”  

The word home catches in Steves head, like sifting through feelings. Home. 

Steve flings himself into Eddie before he can think it through. If he had thought it through, he’d maybe stop himself, run away, pretend he never showed up here. Eddie smells like leather, like open fields, wind caught in his hair and neck. Steve smells like sweet cologne. 

They stand there, swaying gently like the tall grass by the fence. Wayne watches from the porch, wondering why Steve ever left.  

[haggishlyhagging]

On March 9, 1977, Francine Hughes returned from business college to her Dansville, Michigan, home and put a frozen dinner in the oven for her husband, James. He didn't like it. Francine, he said, should be at home preparing meals for him, not running off to school. He beat her up, as he had done many times before; and to drive home his point he tore up her schoolbooks and term papers and forced her to burn them in the trash barrel. Twelve-year-old Christy Hughes called the police, who came to the house long enough to calm James down but declined, as they had many times before, to arrest him. They left James, tired from beating Francine, asleep in his bedroom. Determined to "just drive away," Francine piled the children into the family car. "Let's not come back this time, Mommy," they said. She carried a gasoline can to the bedroom, poured the contents around the bed where James lay asleep, backed out of the room, and set a match to it The rust of flame sucked the door shut.

Francine Hughes drove immediately to the Ingham County sheriffs office, crying hysterically, "I did it. I did it." She was charged with first-degree murder.

Dansville adjoins East Lansing, home of Michigan State University and consequently of many social-action groups. Within two months feminists and other interested people in the Lansing area had formed the Francine Hughes Defense Committee to raise money and public awareness for her defense. They were careful to say that they neither advocated nor condoned murder, but they held that women confronted with violence have a right to defend themselves. They argued that "Francine Hughes—and many other women facing similar charges—should be free from the threat of punishment," for Francine Hughes was a battered woman.

At the time wife-beating was a growing feminist issue, following close on the heels of feminist attacks upon rape, a crime it resembles in many ways. Both rape and wife-beating are crimes of violence against women. Both are widespread, underreported, trivialized, and inadequately punished by the legal system. Both are acts of terrorism intended to keep all women in their place through intimidation. In fact, rape is often part of wife abuse, though so far only a few states acknowledge even the possibility of rape within marriage. The chief difference between the two crimes is that while the victim of nonmarital rape must live with a terrifying memory, the abused wife lives with her assailant. Rapists are, in Susan Brownmiller's phrase, the "shock troops" of male supremacy. Wife-beaters are the home guard.

American feminists took up the issue of wife-beating when they learned in 1971 of the work of Erin Pizzey, founder of Chiswick Women's Aid, the first shelter house in England exclusively for battered women and their children. Rainbow Retreat, the first American shelter for abused families of alcoholics opened in Phoenix, Arizona, on November 1, 1973; and in St. Paul, Minnesota, Women's Advocates, a collective that began with a phone service in 1972, opened Women's House to battered women and their children in October 1974. Rainbow Retreat, during its first two and a half years, sheltered more than six hundred women and children. In St. Paul the five-bedroom Women's House sheltered twenty-two women and fifteen children during its first month of operation; less than a year later Women's Advocates were negotiating to buy a second house. Across the country the shelter movement spread to Pasadena, San Francisco, Seattle, Boise, Albuquerque, Pittsburgh, Ann Arbor, Boston, New York. To open a shelter was to fill it beyond capacity almost overnight. Suddenly it seemed that battered women were everywhere.

While activists opened shelters, researchers and writers set about documenting the problem of wife-beating or, as it came to be called more euphemistically in the academic literature, "domestic violence." The records showed that 60 percent of night calls in Atlanta concerned domestic disputes. In Fairfax County, Virginia, one of the nation's wealthiest counties, police received 4,073 disturbance calls in 1974. During ten months in 1975-76 the Dade County Florida Citizens Dispute Settlement Center handled nearly 1,000 wife-beating cases. Seventy percent of all assault cases received in the emergency room at hospitals in Boston and Omaha were women who had been attacked in their homes. Eighty percent of divorce cases in Wayne County, Michigan, involved charges of abuse. Ninety-nine percent of female Legal Aid clients in Milwaukee were abused by men.

The FBI guessed that a million women each year—women of every race and social class—would be victims of wife-beating. Journalists Roger Langley and Richard C. Levy put the figure at more than 28 million. Some said that one in four women married to or cohabiting with a man would become a victim; others said one in three. In some areas the incidence seemed even greater. In California the experts said one of every two women would be beaten. And in Omaha, the Mayor's Commission on the Status of Women estimated that 95 percent of women would be abused at some time. There scarcely seemed need of additional evidence, so the same statistics began to turn up in every new account, but repetitious as they were, they showed all too clearly that wife-beating is a social problem of astounding dimensions.

-Ann Jones, Women Who Kill

[o-craven-canto]

Nearly all the megafauna we associate with Africa today is immigrants. For the last 30 million years or so, its dominant mammalian families have been Bovidae (antelopes, gazelles, gnus, buffaloes), Giraffidae (giraffes), Hippopotamidae (hippos), Camelidae (dromedaries), Felidae (lions, leopards), Canidae (jackals, wild dogs), Hyaenidae (hyaenas), Rhinocerotidae (rhinos), Equidae (asses, zebras), Hystricidae (African porcupines)... nearly all came from outside. Mostly Asia; some from America! (The big exception is elephants).

For the first half of the age of Mammals, say 60 to 30 million years ago, Africa was an island-continent, cut off from the rest of the world by the warm currents of the Tethys Sea:

(Map by Chris Scotese; other pics from Wiki unless noted otherwise)

And, much like Australia in later times, it had developed its own unique fauna of endemic mammals, unknown in the rest of the world. It mostly formed a single clade, appropriately called Afrotheria, which had branched off other placentate mammals in the time of the last dinosaurs. And what were these Afrotheria?

Some of the smallest are still among us. Tenrecs and golden moles (order Afrosoricida), elephant shrews (order Macroscelidea), and hyraxes (order Hyracoidea), the African answer to hedgehogs, moles, shrews, and rabbits, respectively. They are not closely related to their Amero-Eurasian analogues, but they live in much the same way, and much in the same way they did when Africa was an island.

But some of them could grow quite large! Alas, Titanohyrax is known only from its jaws. Thankfully, the jaws and teeth of mammals are very distinctive and allow very precise identification.

And as for the true giants? Behold magnificent Arsinoitherium (order Embrithopoda), which was a rhino before there were rhinos. No close relation -- in fact, its horns were hollow cones of bone, whereas those of rhinos are made of solid keratin, like giant fingernails. (Sketch by Mauricio Anton, from this wonderful paper by him and Alan Turner).

Then there were the early Sirenians, the still only semi-aquatic ancestors of dugongs and manatees (and the first who broke containment: the proto-manatees Pezosiren and Prorastomus ended up in Jamaica when Africa was still an island, and they still had legs!)

And of course there were early Proboscideans, the grandparents and granduncles of elephants, like Moeritherium, who roamed Egypt when it was still a tropical swamp...

But no isolation lasts forever. Around 40 million years ago, Africa had drifted close enough to Eurasia for some animals to cross through the Tethys. As the seafloor was crushed between continents, the smoking islands that would become Italy, Greece, Turkey, and Iran were rising in between.

Among the first to cross were Primates, such as Afrotarsius, a sort of midway between tarsiers and true monkeys. They did well in the jungles on both sides of the Tethys, spawning macaques, vervets, langurs, baboons and eventually, in the woodlands around Lake Victoria, the first apes.

Another such groups were Rodents -- specifically the Phiomorpha subgroup, in which we find all sorts of distinctly African species such as Old World porcupines, cane rats, and naked mole rats. This is to say that Primates and Rodents did well for themselves after sneaking in.

But then, 30 million years or so, Africa crashed into Eurasia. All barriers to migration went away (well, they came and went with the sea level, but the point is, Africa was no longer super-Australia anymore). And then what we think of today as "African fauna" rushed in.

Here is what African macrofauna looked like at that point, as ungulates and carnivorans were starting to show up:

(H. B. S. Cooke, 1968)

The usual rule of thumb is that when two landmasses meet, the faunas of the smallest and/or most isolate landmass lose out. The later interchange between North and South America is a more famous example, but this is no exception.

The great Embrithopods vanished forever; other orders were relegated to small, humbler sizes. In came Bovidae, Giraffidae, Hippopotamidae, Rhinocerotidae, Felidae, Canidae, Hyaenidae, all sharpened by competition on a larger scale in the great grasslands of Eurasia. In came Equidae and Camelidae, which had appeared in North American plains alongside pronghorns (where did you think llamas come from?), and had gone all the way through Bering and Asia.

And by later ages, you see it yourselves: elephants and apes actually do quite well, but Eurasian carnivorans and ungulates now rule the land.

To be fair, many groups of pre-invasion African fauna did more than just endure. In the Miocene epoch, soon after the great exchange, apes would be found throughout Eurasia from Spain to China, and perhaps some key part of our own evolution took place there. Elephants were even more widespread, getting as far as South America; manatees invaded warm seawaters all around the Equator. Rock hyraxes and African porcupines had some success in the Near East and southern Europe. But I don't think any of these transformed the Eurasian landscape on the same scale as the African landscape was.

And to be sure, the newcomers were impressive!

The wheel of ages turns and turns, caring little for who thrives and who falls -- but life as a whole, somehow, always falls on its feet.

[rottenroyalebooks]

Love Drunk - 0.1

Pairing: Eddie Munson x older sister!Harrington reader

Also includes: Steve Harrington x sister!reader (siblings)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N Harrington left Hawkins as soon as she turned eighteen with her boyfriend to follow her dreams of being a Rockstar. Three years later, she returns to Hawkins alone and scarred. Now, she has to repair her broken relationship with her younger brother, all while trying to prevent herself from falling for a cute metal head who plays at the Hideout, where she works.

Warnings: None.

Next ->

Driving back to Hawkins, Indiana, was the last thing I thought I would do.

I wouldn't say I liked this hellhole and got away as soon as possible. I never wanted to see the all-too-familiar roads and trees filled with bad memories.

Why did I come back here if I hated this place so much? My life fell apart underneath my feet, and I had no choice.

The drive was long and taxing, but I had a caravan from the 60s that still worked beautifully, so I didn't have to stay in any motels. I left California with a few boxes of my possessions and my black and white Saint Bernard Baxter, and we hit the open road together. It was a long trip, but eventually, I pulled into the driveway of my family home, which was pitch black.

Being late into the night, I was not surprised that the house was dark. I pulled my van into the backyard so it wouldn't be seen by anyone who drove by. I turned my van off and climbed into the back of my caravan, grabbing my travel bag and waking Baxter up so he wouldn't be sleeping outside in the cold.

I tried the back door, but it was locked, so I had to grab the spare key that was always kept underneath my mother's favorite garden gnome. I scoffed, showing the key to Baxter, who tilted his head. "See? They're predictable."

Once I unlocked the door and returned the key to its hiding place, I crept into the kitchen slowly, with Baxter trailing behind me and lazily trudging around. I poked my head into the garage, seeing it bare of any cars, and scoffed, "Nobody's home? They're probably away on business again." I pulled myself back into the house and closed the door.

I started thinking about my little brother Steve. He must have been nineteen, probably off at some fancy university far away from this town. Good for him.

I found my way to my old bedroom, letting Baxter in with promises of bedtime, and closed the door behind me. The room had barely been touched, though my parents were never home enough to care about what had happened. My bed was a mess, my posters were still on the walls, my desk was nearly covered in junk, my old makeup lay on the dresser, and my records were still in a box I had put together.

Sighing happily, I put my backpack on a chair and watched as Baxter jumped onto my bed, making himself as comfortable as possible. I sat on the bed next to my nightstand, which held the phone I had begged my parents to put in for me. I picked it up, hearing the dial tone and beeping as I pressed one of the few numbers I had memorized.

I pressed the phone to my ear, listening to the ringing. Finally, after a few rings, there's a male voice coming from the receiver, "I swear to god, somebody better be dead if you have the bright idea of calling me at three in the fucking morning."

I held back a laugh, "Jim! Hey, it's Y/N,"

I could almost feel his mood lighten, "Y/N? I never thought I'd hear your voice again! How've you been, kid?"

"Could be better. it could be worse. I'm back in town wondering if the pub needs a bartender."

He hummed lightly, "Luckily for you, Paul retired two weeks ago, and I've been having trouble finding decent help. You got any experience bartending?"

I smiled, thankful that he didn't push my return further, "I was a bartender for three years. I kept my nights busy."

"Perfect, you're hired. Can I go back to bed now?"

Giggling, I nodded, knowing he couldn't see me, "Yes, yes, sorry for calling so late. Goodnight, Jim." I placed the phone in the receiver and began stretching, getting myself ready to sleep.

My peace didn't last very long as my door swung open, revealing none other than my little brother, who wasn't so little anymore, welding a baseball bat in his hands. I jumped slightly and held my hands up in surrender, "Whoa, whoa! Steve?"

He stared at me, his features melting into a look of surprise, "Y/N?" He kept the bat high up in the air.

The two of us spoke in unison, "What are you doing here?"

"I asked you first, twerp."

He looked at me with an exasperated expression, "I'm literally the one with the bat."

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest as the adrenaline died down, "I have an attack dog. Don't make me sick him on you."

He glanced behind me, looking at Baxter; smirking, he just looked back at me as he lowered the bat, "Oh yeah, he's an attack dog alright."

I looked over my shoulder and turned to look at Baxter, who laid there unbothered; passed out nearly dead to the world. If it weren't for the slow rise and fall of his upper body, I would have thought he was dead.

"I could be facing an actual murder right now, and you would just be blissfully aware until you woke up to see my dead body."

Steve sighed, "N/N, what happened?"

I turned back to him, "I'm back in Hawkins. Mom and Dad don't need to know. Hopefully, I'll find a place of my own soon. Trust me, you'll barely know I'm here."

He just stared at me, his expression unreadable as he contiplated my words. He grew a lot since I last saw him. His hair was shorter back then. He was shorter. He's no longer the scrawney kid I had to protect in my senior year, when he was merely a freshman.

I probably looked different, too, but in other ways.

"I should probably get some rest, I have an early shift." He awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, kid. We'll talk later,  I want to know everything I've missed." I smirked, grabbing the covers and pulling them over my legs, "Hit the lights on the way out?"

He chuckled lightly, nodding, "Yeah, goodnight, Melody." He baked out of the doorframe, flipping the lights off for me before closing the door, leaving me to stare up at the ceiling; which still had the glow in the dark stars on it.

Baxter rolled over a bit, cuddling into my side as we got comfortable in my bed.