#early life crises

[writhe]

RESTOCK! EAT EM UP PLEASE

if i am being completely honest these will probably not get to you in time for XMAS but hey, you know what, it's punk time and you get that. anyway there's a whole bunch o' shirts for you to snag including some red ones, stuff printed with coppery ink, and a restock of the DECADENCE NOW rat shirts, which i have not printed in a minute. etc!!!!!!!

THANKS FOR LOOKIN' XOXO

[indepthpokemonheadcanons]

Grusha Headcanons

Grusha avoids social and networking events as far as possible. Even though his role as Gym Leader demands a certain degree of public engagement, he finds it exceedingly difficult to sustain conversations, and often comes across as aloof and rude without meaning to. Rather than risk saying something tactless, he engages as little as possible.

He joined the League a few months before Ryme did, but he has taken much longer to settle into his role. Despite being relatively new to the professional battle scene, critics rank him as one of the strongest Gym Leaders in Paldea, with the makings to become an Elite in future. Geeta has dropped similar hints during his annual performance reviews. But the praise does not always register; he doubts his ability and dwells on defeats, which often leads to him avoiding more challenging opponents. 

Grusha did not have great interest in pokémon battles when he was younger. Neither of his parents were trainers, but they pressed him to try an array of sports and other pursuits throughout childhood, both battling and coordinating among them. Of the countless activities he dabbled in, snowboarding was the only one that truly seized his interest, but now that this path has closed to him, he has fallen back on alternative pursuits. Competitive battle still does not wholly engage him - but it is, at the very least, something he can feel good at. 

His battle style is notable for how he manipulates visibility during matches. His signature technique utilises tailwinds combined with hailstorms and haze, which makes it exceedingly difficult for opposing trainers and their pokémon to see what is happening on the battlefield. His own team, all trained to rely on senses other than sight, are well adapted to fighting in such conditions. The technique is highly effective, but League officials have gently (but firmly) discouraged him from using it in more public matches, because low visibility hurts spectator enjoyment. 

When he was younger, Grusha kept his hair short. It was only during the long, listless year after his injury that he grew it out, largely because he couldn’t summon the energy to book a haircut. He has since decided that he prefers it that way. Occasionally, he experiments with his appearance in other ways, such as with nail polish and makeup, but he is intensely private about it, especially now he is back in the public eye. 

He does not tend to keep his pokémon in pokéballs unless he has to, as they are adjusted to roaming alone on Glaseado mountain. His weavile is especially reluctant to be contained. While Grusha has good control of his team on the battlefield, he is lax in domestic settings - he lets his pokémon sleep where they please, and even feeds them food from his own plate. 

Grusha did some occasional modelling as a child, largely due to his mother’s insistence and fashion connections. He has taken on similar work as an adult, but he feels more self-conscious in front of a camera than he used to, uncertain of how to stand and hold himself. 

Due to how recently he entered his role, he is not especially close to anyone in the League. At the few social functions he attends, Rika is one of the few to always strike up a conversation with him, but he assumes she is only being polite. Her blatant attempts to flirt are also taken as politeness.   

Before his altaria evolved, she liked to settle in his hair and sleep on his head. She still attempts to do it now, even though she is rather too heavy for it.

[astradyke]

hey in case anyone had any doubts about whether or not i'm insane about the thing i keep posting about rest assured i'm still thinking about the hiatus. okay disclaimer also i'm not trying to be like oh their struggles were so gay yaoi and sweet coded, that's not really my point this was like serious shit. anyway. like fuckkk what gets me crazy insane is like how much stress they had in their lives (phil's health issues and his chronic illness along with his anxiety; dan's breakdown with youtube post-coming out and the implied financial/mental struggles with that) and like (1), overwhelmingly, i get emotional every time i think about how much happier they are now, how dan was able to create something important to him and phil has come so far with his anxiety it makes me like <33 and is why i can't really watch stuff pre hiatus but (2) not more important than their individual/collective happiness obviously but related to it like... damn. they were so fucking in love? they were still so fucking in love. i don't know. dan and phil clearly have gone through a lot of shit in their lives online/privately **and as fans we do not know the half of it, i'm sure, or how a lot of it affected them, and i really am not trying to pry** but like... just from what they have told us, like. i am so serious i could tattoo it on me they always brought the other person up. like phil gets brought up in dystopia daily episodes he's not even in, not to mention that he was part of the production team. phil brings up dan in every video of his. and all of it is so overwhelmingly loving. like the hiatus must have been some of the scariest times of their life, whether or not they'd live together was in flux, both dan and phil had their own creative purgatories, but like... they're dan and phil. they can survive anything. they drive me fucking crazy.

[ltleflrt]

Figuring out I'm on the ace spectrum was so difficult because I have always been a horny bitch. I knew what sex was at a fairly young age, because I'd asked my mom and she's one of those good parents who'll answer questions like those, and as I grew older and would ask more complex questions, her answers would evolve along with my curiosity and understanding of the world. And I remember having fantasies as young as 9 or 10 years old, even if they were hella vague and nothing close to what sex actually is lol

So as I became a teenager, and all my friends' focus turned from playing with dolls to flirting with boys, I automatically thought I was attracted to boys. And I paid more attention to Cute Boys than I did to Cute Girls, because girls were just nice to look at while boys were People To Have Crushes On. Because of heteronormativity. Looking back on it now, I know there were girls I liked to stare at just as intently as boys, although less often because I wasn't trying to pay attention. And I certainly didn't fantasize about girls because I started reading romance novels in 5th grade, so I was fantasizing about male romantic partners because that was the fiction I was consuming. I didn't even realize fantasizing about girls was possible until I was 17, and I had a few "am I a lesbian" internal crises for years because of it.

So when I did start having sex, I had A LOT OF IT with SO MANY different guys, and eventually a couple of women once I started accepting that bisexuality was real. But it was never really fulfilling. Not like my fantasies were. Not like my books were. I was slutty because sex was fun, I was horny, there were plenty of options so I kept searching for that satisfaction I was craving.

Getting married was a relief (even though it turns out I'm aro-spec too lol) because I was tired of hunting, and even if sex with my husband was meh, at least I had someone around to scratch that itch if I had it, and he didn't mind if I occasionally took care of things on my own because I'd read an especially hot scene in a romance.

I learned about asexuality in my early 20s, but I brushed it off. Couldn't be me, I'm far too horny for that. But I think that comes from the fact that everything you hear about Aces is attached to sex-repulsion or sex-indifference. I wasn't either of those things. I was horny all the dang time. I was fantasizing about sex all the dang time. I figured actual sex was meh because my imagination was so vivid that real life could never match up. Which could be true to an extent, but I think not as much as popular opinion would have us believe. If fantasy was really that much better for everyone, then I think we'd have less incels and unplanned pregnancies than we do.

In my 30s I finally saw people talking about The Spectrum, and I started examining my past, and I figured out I wasn't really attracted to anyone I had sex with. I do occasionally find someone attractive; there are men and women and enbies who make my skin feel tight and give me a little wave of lightheadedness lol... but it's always always the fantasy that gets me really going. If given the opportunity I wouldn't have sex with any of those people. Thank you, but no thank you, I'd rather just imagine it than physically participate in the act with them.

(Ok I might go down on them, but that's less about wanting sex, and more about being able to add them to my Tally. Hell yeah I want to brag about making *insert hot person* have an orgasm. There's PRIDE in that kind of accomplishment lol)

I have a lot of respect for aces that are not horny. I understand it even if I don't share the sentiment. And I feel like most of them understand me even if they don't share the sentiment. There's a solidarity between us.

Until I go into a fandom tag for a character that the aces have glommed onto because they're canonically ace or headcanoned as ace. Good lord, the non-horny aces can turn into downright vicious bastards if a horny ace sexualizes their blorbo.

This post is for them.

Horny aces exist. Please look up "autochorissexual, lithosexual, and aegosexual."

Refer to those definitions in regards to romantic attraction as well as sexual attraction.

Some aces may not fall into one of those definitions, because asexuality is a spectrum, but they may still be horny.

Horny aces are not disrespecting you by enjoying being horny on main. We promise we'll wash the stickiness off our hands before we hold your hands in queer solidarity.

And most importantly: Your blorbo is fictional and does not need to be defended from icky sexuality. They exist in an infinite multiverse, so your blorbo and my blorbo are not the same, even if they appear to be on the surface.

AND:

This post is also for the people who are confused about themselves because they're horny but don't actually feel attraction. You're not crazy, you're not wishy washy, you're not "waiting for the right person to come along" (unless you are, in which case I hope you find them). You're just a thin strip of color on a massive rainbow that holds more unique shades than anyone can perceive at a glance.

You're valid. You're one of us too.

And don't be mean to the non-horny aces. Tag your smut so they can avoid it. (But actually so I can find it lol)

[markscherz]

Can I ask how you feel about your Tumblr fame?

I get the impression you just made this account for normal casual funsies reasons, but it kinda blew up by happenstance. If that's right, I'm curious if now you feel like it's kind of a more serious thing, where you have an opportunity to sorta act as a science communicator with a reach you otherwise might not?

Or maybe something else? You gonna see if you can somehow leverage your Tumblr fame to get research funding? Deputize us to harass polluters and developers destroying habitats? Crowdsource name ideas for new species?

It's a bit bizarre, in that it has very little real-world-ness to it. I showed my mother the ongoing tumblr celebrity poll, and she was like 'how many people could possibly be interested in frogs?', to which I replied 'well as of today about 46,000 and counting'.

I have always had an unhealthy relationship with fame. I spent most of my teen and young adult life fawning after it, as is I suppose very often the case.

More after the cut…

I always really wanted to be famous, but I was never really interested in changing who I was or what I represented in that pursuit. That is to say, I wanted to be known for what I was already doing, or for things that were already interesting for me, rather than things that might have much higher chances of success but require more effort or be less in line with the things that I am interested in.

I had my first brush with virality in 2012, when a poem I wrote went a little viral (largely thanks to StumbleUpon). I remember the rush of seeing how much attention it was getting, and staying up late to keep refreshing the page as the visitor numbers went up and up and up.

But not long after that, I had some closer encounters with fame and people becoming famous. That was extremely eye-opening. I witnessed first hand how strongly that can affect someone's life, for good and for bad. That experience also made me realise, quite jarringly, that famous people are still just people; that celebrity is something extrinsic to them; that they also wipe their own butts (if they are able); and that in many cases, it is a substantial inconvenience if not downright pain in the ass for them. I think this is why we see so many of the big celebrities having mental health crises or trying to live as much of their lives out of the public eye as possible.

That experience pretty much stifled my desire to achieve fame, and really changed my relationship with it. I should add that I could say much more on this topic, but nothing so coherent or insightful as John and Hank Green, who have given me so much clarity on this topic over the years through their thoughtful commentary on youtube and their podcasts.

Anyway, in spite of the fact that fame itself doesn't really appeal to me anymore, I do still have a problem wherein I quickly became addicted to the microdosing of euphoria associated with every reblog and like and follow. So I put huge efforts into social media in order to try to gain traction in the space that I felt I could really compete in—Very Niche SciComm™—and build up a following.

Tumblr was the first platform where I felt that really succeed; I managed to fight my way to a few thousand followers with a thick queue of regular posts about herpetology and other science. At that time, there was a great community building up in the rudimentary private messaging system—I am still friends with several other tumblr bloggers from that era (none of whom I have ever met in person). From that early time (2013), I think my most successful post was probably this one about germination of 32,000 year old seeds—a post that, as of today, has 836 notes, but at the time felt huge and exhilarating.

As I went through gradschool, I got more and more active on twitter, and less and less active on tumblr (by the time I wound down, I had about 8,000 followers on tumblr). This was partly because of the pornbot takeover on tumblr, which meant I basically could not go on the platform in public or at work, but also because the audience and interactions are just fundamentally different. Twitter had a different kind of vibe and energy than tumblr, and there were real SciComm experts there, who were doing it just completely differently. More importantly, I became more focussed on doing outreach aimed at colleagues, rather than non-experts.

Then, in 2017, I hit headlines for the first time. The description of Geckolepis megalepis made it big on social and traditional media, and I had my first experience with real media attention. I had a flurry of late-night phone-calls with journalists in the US. This was a different animal altogether than the few viral posts I had had until that point. It was extremely stressful, but exhilarating. Then in 2018, our chameleon fluorescence story made similar headlines, and in 2019 the Mini frogs, and in 2021 with gecko fluorescence and the smallest chameleon.

Seeing my name on the BBC News website and in the New York Times and National Geographic—those things have been the most surreal moments of near-fame I have experienced so far. The number of followers on social media is quite difficult to conceptualise, but seeing your own name in a media outlet that you consume regularly, or have grown up with, is more palpable.

In any case, I continued to run with twitter as my main platform for years, because I found the interaction with colleagues and other academics highly stimulating. In 2021, I even posted a twitter thread about a different species of frog from Madagascar every day for the full year. All this work was ultimately greeted with mediocre success; I just crested over 10,000 followers a few months before the Musth takeover. But then the platform became basically unusable. And in the fallout, I came back to tumblr, where, just by chance, I happened to find a post about the Mini frogs and reply to it and it went properly viral and now here we are. In the space of a year, I went from having 8000 followers to having >46,000.

How do I feel about that? It's bonkers. I think it is great that so many people are interested in hearing the Good News about frogs and other creatures. But I also feel like I am not really on the same playing field as most of the others in that poll mentioned above, in that I do not have any of the celebrity that several others have. And I know for a fact that there are fanblogs with far, far larger followings than I have. But perhaps that is the great thing about tumblr; that the playing field is somehow levelled…

What's the point of this ramble? Well, first I guess it is to outline that I have given fame a lot of thought over the years, and I have a long-standing and complicated relationship with it, and take it quite seriously. Second, to illustrate that I have been working on as a science communicator or person in outreach for many years—it has kind of been my social media brand since I started gradschool in 2013. And third, to kind of outline how we got here, because I often feel like you have to know where an arrow has come from in order to figure out which direction it will continue to fly.

You asked if I would somehow try to leverage my tumblr fame to get research funding—I already do that. In fact, my social media activity had a signfiicant role in landing me my current job, and will continue to help me achieve tenure. Outreach is an important part of my job, and funders like it too.

I would love to have the community-building power and tenacity of the brothers Green; Nerdfighteria has achieved some incredible things over the years, and the power of that community is now being seen at an unprecedented scale in their battle for equitable access for tuberculosis diagnosis and treatment. But I do not have that in me; this platform is the wrong one for community activation, and my community is still too small for that. Moreover, it is not organised or structured, in the way that I think effective deputisation would require.

As for the crowdsourcing of name ideas, that is currently off the table. I like to try to name things on my own or with my colleauges; it is a very good part of the process. And I have yet to hear a suggestion for a Mini species epithet that I had not already come up with myself, so I am not convinced that this would really augment the experience.

So for now, I hope that the main way I use the platform, and the power that comes with a few thousand followers, will be to spread the Good News about frogs and other wonderful animals, and the other kinds of science happening around us (and occasional other off-topic content). I hope that you are encouraged to explore the world around you, and to do your own reading to find out more about the subjects that interest you. And also I will continue to try to make meme-worthy content, because it does nice, if addictive, things in my brain when I get the clicks.

Thanks for asking, anon, and sorry for the Wall of Text.

[city-of-ladies]

Genmei (661-721) was Japan's fourth empress regnant. She was Empress Jitō's half-sister and her match in terms of ambition and political skills. Her rule was characterized by a development of culture and innovations. 

Ruling after her son

Like Jitō (645-703), Genmei was the daughter of Emperor Tenji but was born from a different mother. Jitō was both her half-sister and mother-in-law since Genmei had married the empress’ son, Prince Kusakabe (662-689). She had a son with him, Emperor Monmu (683-707). 

Kusakabe died early and never reigned, which led to Jitō's enthronement. The empress was then succeeded by her grandson Monmu. The latter’s reign was short. In his last will, he called for his mother to succeed him in accordance with the “immutable law” of her father Tenji. Genmei accepted. 

Steadfast and ambitious 

Genmei was made from the same mold as her half-sister. She proved to be a fearless sovereign, undeterred by military crises. 

She pursued Jitō's policies, strengthening the central administration and keeping the power in imperial hands. Among her decisions were the proscription of runaway peasants and the restriction of private ownership of mountain and field properties by the nobility and Buddhist temples. 

Another of her achievements was transferring the capital at Heijō-kyō (Nara) in 710, turning it into an unprecedented cultural and political center. Her rule saw many innovations. Among them were the first attempt to replace the barter system with the Wadō copper coins, new techniques for making brocade twills and dyeing and the settlement of experimental dairy farmers.

A protector of culture

Genmei sponsored many cultural projects. The first was the Kojiki, written in 712 it told Japan’s history from mythological origins to the current rulers. In its preface, the editor Ō no Yasumaro praised the empress:

“Her Imperial Majesty…illumines the univers…Ruling in the Purple Pavillion, her virtue extends to the limit of the horses’ hoof-prints…It must be saif that her fame is greater than that of Emperor Yü and her virtue surpasses that of Emperor Tang (legendary emperors of China)”.

In 713, she ordered the local governments to collect local legends and oral traditions as well as information about the soil, weather, products and geological and zoological features. Those local gazetteers (Fudoki) were an invaluable source of Japan’s ancient tradition.

Several of Genmei’s poems are included in the Man'yōshū anthology, including a reply by one of the court ladies. 

Listen to the sounds of the warriors' elbow-guards;

Our captain must be ranging the shields to drill the troops.

– Genmei Tennō

Reply:

Be not concerned, O my Sovereign;

Am I not here,

I, whom the ancestral gods endowed with life,

Next of kin to yourself

– Minabe-hime

From mother to daughter 

Genmei abdicated in 715 and passed the throne to her daughter, empress Genshō (680-748) instead of her sickly grandson prince Obito. This was an unprecedented situation, making the Nara period the pinnacle of female monarchy in Japan. 

Genmei would oversee state affairs until she died in 721. Before her death, she shaved her head and became a nun, becoming the first Japanese monarch to take Buddhist vows and establishing a long tradition.

Feel free to check out my Ko-Fi if you like what I do! Your support would be greatly appreciated.

Further reading

Shillony Ben-Ami, Enigma of the Emperors Sacred Subservience in Japanese History

Tsurumi Patricia E., “Japan’s early female emperors”

Aoki Michiko Y., "Jitō Tennō, the female sovereign",in: Mulhern Chieko Irie (ed.), Heroic with grace legendary women of Japan

[0vereasy]

Life’s Creations and Love’s Manifestations - Dr. Ratio x Female Reader- Chapter 3

Summary: Your promotion as one of the heads of the Security Department at Herta’s Station was full of many headaches, one of the biggest being a visiting scholar from the Intelligentsia Guild, and delegate of the IPC, Dr. Ratio.

When you were forced to team up with him to solve several crises emerging at the Station, how will your tense relationship change? And what exactly is the Doctor hiding?

Taglist: @96jnie @boomie-123 @a2tral @ukiyo-ikigai @poemzcheng @kpopmenace143

Send me an ask, DM or comment to be added to the taglist!

ao3 link

Masterlist | Previous chapter

A/N: Happy New Year! Hope everyone had a fun New Year’s Eve - I spent mine in a way I think the reader would, drinking with friends. I’m officially back in Uni now, so updates will be slower (~1-3 updates a month) but my semester is lighter so I’m confident I’ll have the time to update. In other news, I officially finished pre-farming for Ratio! He’s gonna be the first character I max out traces for!

Chapter 3: Touch Deprival

“Question: Are you sure you are alright?” as usual, Screwllum’s voice was monotone and flat, sending no hints to reveal how he was feeling at the moment. Consequently, he had to express his feelings in other ways, rubbing your shoulders soothingly as you tinkered with the camera equipment in front of you, “Affirmation: it is your day off, you can easily save this task until tomorrow.”

You couldn’t have looked any more different from this morning, crop top and shorts now replaced with comfy sweatpants and a button-down white shirt which looked suspiciously similar to the one your robot companion wore under his suit jacket. Your back was pressed firmly against the front of his metallic body as you both sat on the floor in the Seclusion Zone in a room full of two things; plants and the little creatures that Ruan Mei abandoned after leaving the Space Station a few hours ago. A few of the little creatures hoped around freely, as if happy for the company, “Given all of this,” you gestured to the creatures around you, “we should’ve put cameras down here months ago,” you let yourself lean further back against your companion, savouring the feeling of his arms kneading your tense flesh, “might as well get it over with before someone else decides to run a fucked up experiment down here.”

He didn’t rebut the content of your statement itself, rather responding with a simple, “You did not answer my first question, dear,” his metallic hand trailed further down your back, massaging the space near your shoulder blade through the white shirt. You muffled a groan at the relief that shot through your body, a sign that had him continuing the motions with a firmer grip. You didn’t know how the robot managed to give the most amazing massages, but his hands were definitely missed whenever he was forced the leave the station. 

“I mean, as good as someone can be after almost dying a few hours ago, I guess,” your tone was neutral, your gaze and fingers focused on the security cameras in front of you, which you were attaching to camera mounds to place on the walls around the Seclusion Zone. You knew if you dared to look back at Screwllum, he would see through your words in an instant. His title as a genius wasn’t just for show after all, “I mean, it obviously was scary when it happened, but I can’t take up more of your time. Herta’s probably already out for my head after you left your meeting with her early.”

“Affirmation, I did not tell her the reason of my sudden departure,” he replied, one metallic hand drifting from your back to your face, tilting your head so that, even from in front of him, you two were forced to make eye contact, “It was hard not to abandon my work when you texted me to inform me you were using the bathtub in my room with no context,” he let his hand drift from your cheek to cup your chin, “I care about you, my dear. I don’t want you to push yourself.”

Ah, the bathtub. It was silly really, how someone like Screwllum, who couldn’t use a bathtub in the first place, had one in his quarters while you were stuck with a shitty shower with absolutely no water pressure. It just so happened that all the guest rooms in the Space Ship were equipt with bathtubs, and though Screwllum was a frequent visitor of the station, he had no official permanent quarters of his own, though, at this point, the Station staff just gave him the same room in the Space Station anyway, making that particular room his unofficial permanent quarters.

Of course, when you finished cleaning the incubator room in the Seclusion Zone, hands covered in smelly bug guts, you had abandoned your computer and water bottle in favour of taking the elevator to the floor housing the living quarters and used your FOB to unlock Screwllum’s room solely for the purpose of his bathtub. With your one-track mind on trying to get the smell of bug off of you, you had neglected to check your phone after sending Screwllum a text letting him know about your tub use, which ultimately led him to check on and fuss over you, a pattern of behaviour that was still ongoing now.

“And I appreciate your company, as always,” you flash him a smile, pushing the camera you were working on to the side so you could turn and face him, straddling your legs over his own. You pressed a brief kiss to his cheek before pushing your body against his own, sighing at the familiar feeling of his hands wrapping around you, “But you’ve been with me all afternoon; go take a few hours, finish your work,” you let your hands trail down his chest, shuddering at the cold feeling of his metallic frame below his suit, “I’ll be here when you’re done - remember, you still owe me dinner and drinks.”

“How could I forgot?” Screwllum chuckled as you pressed another kiss to his cheek, though he made no movement to leave. You both knew why; the answer hanging between the two of you, but remaining unspoken, as if you two were playing a game to see who could avoid bringing it up the longest. To avoid doing so, you snuggled yourself into his chest, inhaling the scent of his laundry detergent as he rubbed a cold hand up and down your back.

“Ahem,” Screwllum’s hand stopped moving at the sudden sound of another voice breaking the relative silence, albeit the irregular mewings of Ruan Mei’s cat-like creatures, in the room. You forced yourself to sit up, regretfully removing yourself from Screwllum’s arms to face the new presence in the room. “Sorry if I am… interrupting something,” as per usual, Dr. Ratio’s features were hidden by the alabaster head, leaving only his toned body on display to you and Screwllum, who exchanged looks as you moved to sit beside the robot.

“You are,” was your simple reply. You forced yourself to grab another security camera from the mess of items you had scatted on the floor around Screwllum and yourself, attaching it to the camera mound to control your anger at the Doctor’s presence, “You can go away now.”

“How rude, to think you would treat a delegate of the IPC like this,” he placed his hand to his chest in mock offence. You pictured his eyes rolling underneath the alabaster read to aid to the sarcasm radiating off of his body, “I expected more from you.”

Noticing your anger and lack of motivation to carry on the conversation, Screwllum allowed himself to speak, “I don’t believe we have been formally introduced,” he stood up, you frowning at him as he took a few steps forward, sticking a hand out to the Doctor, “I am Screwllum, number-”

“Number 76 of the Genius Society, ruler of Planet Screwllum, leader of the resistance against Rupert I,” Doctor Ratio rambled out the list of title, counting each on his fingers like a child may do when trying to solve a math problem, albeit the Doctor’s action was clearly mocking in nature, “Don’t patronize me, Mr. Screwllum. I work for the IPC, of course I am aware of your identity.” He huffed, removing the alabaster head to reveal his own features, hair slightly out of place due to the action. He looked unamused, crossing his arms with another dramatic huff.

“Affirmation; your tongue is as sharp as your looks, as I have heard, Doctor,” Screwllum’s tone was even, though he retracted his outreached hand, which had gone unanswered, plainly and obviously, making the tension in the air obvious.

You resisted the urge to groan in frustration, instead stating, “Why are you here, Mr. Ratio? I’m sure you have better things to do than lounge around in the Seclusion Zone all day,” you resisted the urge to smirk at him, “keep this up and I may just report you to your employer for time fraud - its not like you’re doing any work around here anyway.”

“You’re the one who told me to come here, remember?” he questioned, leaving your quip unanswered and raising an eyebrow. He sighed at the blank look at your face at his words, as if disappointed, “Pity, it was quite a dramatic comment, I would have suspected you to remember it. What was it again?” he put a hand to his chin as if in thought, though the mocking smile told you the words were already committed to his memory, “Ah, yes, ‘We are definitely having a chat about this later’ that it.”

“Yeah, later, as in not now,” you said drily, pointing to the army of cameras surrounding you, “I’m clearly busy.”

“I seem to recall that you entertained a conversation with me just fine earlier today when you were also busy,” he sighed dramatically, leaning against one of the tubes full of plants cultivated by Ruan Mei, “I suppose idiots truly can only multitask for so long during the day; pity, I truly enjoyed our conversations.”

You opened your mouth, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but were silenced when Screwllum spoke first, “I do not mean to interrupt,” he spoke, glancing between you and the Doctor curiously, “However, I do need to depart to a meeting,” he turned from the Doctor, walking to where you sat and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “My dear, don’t you think allowing Mr. Ratio to accompany you may allow you to finish this task quicker? I’d hate for you to waste more time on this venture.”

Screwllum’s shining green eyes bore into yours, almost as if he was daring you to rebut him. You knew what he was playing at as he rubbed familiar, soothing circles into your flesh. It was another silent dare, for you to bring up what you knew was on both of your minds. Of course, you didn’t, an action you knew that your companion expected. Your eyes drifted briefly to the Doctor, who was watching you two curiously as if you were a math problem that he couldn’t quite solve. 

“Fine, fine,” you relented, putting your hands in the air in mock defeat, meeting the Doctor’s eye, “I’ll let you stay, only if you help me put up these cameras once they’re ready.” You hated the smug look on the Doctor’s face at your words as if he had emerged victorious from the exchange somehow, his hands moving from being crossed at his chest to instead resting on his hips like some sort of superhero. 

“Quite bold of you to ask a mere visitor to help you with such a menial task,” he started, though he walked towards you and Screwllum nonetheless, “However, if you insist, I suppose I can help. The Station will benefit from my adept hand, after all.”

“Ah, yes, I can already hear Lady Asta gasping in pleasure when she see’s your expert camera placement,” you rolled your eyes as you shoved another camera into its mound, earning a glare from the Doctor. Once again, Screwllum saved the day, breaking the silence before he could retort.

“With that settled, I will take my leave now,” he gave your shoulder a small squeeze, your eyes transfixed on the Doctor, whose eyes were equally as focused on the small act of intimacy, “Conclusion, I will see you later tonight, my dear.” He let his metallic hand remove itself from your shoulder after being sure to give it one last squeeze.

“Can’t wait!” you smiled at him, dragging your eyes away from the Doctor to watch your companion retreat, keeping your focus on his form until he was completely out of your sight, before you reluctantly dragged your eyes back to the Doctor. He stood a few feet away from you, as if unsure exactly where to go or what to do. You huffed at his reactions, “What, does a genius like yourself not know how to socially interact with people? Sit down already!”

“You must forgive me, the IPC doesn’t provide lessons on social etiquette regarding sitting on the floor,” he replied drily, awkwardly taking a seat next to you on the cold metal floor of the Space Station, his eyes looking over you as you continued your work with the cameras, “We sit in chairs, like civilized people. I do not understand your logic of working here.”

“Come on, Doc, live a little, sitting on the floor never killed anyone,” you shrugged, your voice light, but lacking the usual passion you preferred to give to your retorts. Too tired to really care, you ignored his gaze to continue your work, “Plus, it’s easier to work here anyway, saves me lugging cameras around later.”

“I must say, you lack your usual passion that you provide to our oh-so-delightful conversations” he scanned the immediate surroundings as if searching for something, “Is this what you’re like sober? I dare say you make a much more entertaining conversationalist when you are slightly tipsy.” It’s only then that you realized he held a bottle of wine in his hand, a brand you didn’t recognize, “Drink then, so we can speak like intellectuals.”

“Wow, aiding my alcoholism? You must be in a good mood,” you raised an eyebrow in suspicion, though you were quick the grab the opened bottle anyway, taking a few large gulps of the wine. It was a dry wine, definitely not your favourite, but it was strong, the red liquid burning your throat as you swallowed. 

“You could at least pour yourself a glass first,” the Doctor shot you a glare, grabbing the bottle to wipe away the stain of your lipgloss at the opening, “I’m beginning to suspect you have no concept of manners.”

“Do you see any glasses around here?” you retorted, both you and the Doctor looking around the room, the only signs of objects other than cameras or plants being Ruan Mei’s little cat-like creatures. That seemed to be enough to shut up the doctor, at least briefly, as he spent the next few minutes watching you construct cameras and drink wine in silence. Of course, though, the Doctor could only stand to exist without hearing his voice for so long, leading him to break the silence.

“You did not answer my earlier question,” he replied, voice even, though containing less of an annoying edge than usual. Aeons, what was it with these men and their persistence to get an answer out of you today, “Why are you colder than usual?”

You shot him a glare, standing up from the floor in anger, as if you wanted to punch him right then and there. Of course you didn’t, instead allowing yourself to pace the room, a few of the cat-like creatures hopping alongside you as you did, “You really have to ask me that? And you call yourself a member of the Intelligensia Guild?” you scoffed, pausing your pacing to stare him down directly, thriving in the way he squirmed slightly in his uncomfortable seat on the floor, “Not only did you use your stupid looks to sneak into the Seclusion Zone, but you witnessed Ruan Mei’s psychotic experiment, knew what was going to happen, but didn’t tell anyone about it, instead basically sending myself and the Trailblazer to our impending doom!” Your words were cold, harsh, streaming out like a river, as if you couldn’t hold them back any longer, “I know were not exactly friendly, but holy fuck, draw the line somewhere, right?”

He held his hands out in front of him, arm muscles flexing as he did so, “I understand you are upset, however-”

“Upset?” you scoffed, a sarcastic laugh leaving your lips, “Wrong, I’m pissed off! Is my life a joke to you? A few more seconds of fighting that stupid thing and I wouldn’t be here right now!” you pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Imagine if we did die, huh? Were you just goint to lounge around the Space Station as if you didn’t send us to death without the tinest warning? Or were you going to celebrate since I was finally out of your hair?”

“I wouldn’t have let you die,” he replied, tone cold, disappointed even, as if you were in the wrong for claiming he would do such a thing, “I’m sure you noticed that I returned to the Seclusion Zone before you left.” You had noticed. Of course, you did. You had been forced to halt your cleaning job temporarily to get the Trailblazer back to the Storage Zone. Mysteriously, despite the Trailblazer never having pressed the button for the elevator, the elevator was awaiting your arrival, as if the previous user had taken it downwards to the Seclusion Zone, despite you having seen the Doctor taking it upwards before you headed off to your impending doom. The Doctor took your silence as acknowledgement, “I was prepared to aid the two of you in defeating the creature if required.”

You didn’t speak for a moment, processing the new information to add on to what you already knew. You weren’t sure of what to make of the elevator incident til now, not knowing if the Doctor came to help you or mock you. Somehow, you found the later to be more preferable than the reality. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” you rebutted, sitting down on the floor again, keeping a few feet distance between you and the Doctor, “Knowing that you could help me defeat a monster that you failed to tell me about in the first place?”

The Doctor sighed dramatically as if he was a child caught stealing from a cookie jar, before beginning to speak, “I… apologize for my actions,” despite his extravagant sentiments before speaking, his words were surprisingly genuine, his usually snobby voice reduced to a volume barely above a whisper, “I was confident in your ability to hold off the creature, however I should have told you about the threat it posed… I am sorry.”

You blinked dumbly a few times before bursting out into laughter, scootching closer towards the Doctor to grab the wine bottle, taking a swig between your giggles, “Wow, it’s that easy to elicit an apology out of you, Doc?” you smirked, “I should’ve recorded that shit, ahhh it was so satisfying!” 

“You-” he glared at you, yanking the bottle out of your hands in anger, “Were you faking that temper tantrum the whole time? Are you capable of holding any conversation without emotional manipulation?” You continued to giggle, laughs only edged on by the warmth rising to the Doctor’s cheeks, which he tried to hide with his hands.

“I mean, I was, and am still upset,” you shrugged, snatching the bottle again from where he placed it on the floor to take another swig, sighing at the taste as you pulled the bottle away from your lips “But, why would I let that get in the way of me teasing you?” she mused, “Maybe I should’ve took it further, hmm? Waited until you got down on your knees and begged for my forgiveness before-”

“Enough of this insolence!” he exclaimed, an angry blush on his clear skin, “I have never met someone with so much gull; someone so infuriating!” he again snatched the wine away from you, though he failed to take a sip from the bottle.

“Hey, hey, you deserved all that after what you put me through today!” you pointed an accusatory finger at him before standing up from the floor, “Now come on, Doc, these cameras aren’t gonna put themselves up, huh?” you grabbed two of the cameras from their resting place on the floor, gesturing for the Doctor to do the same.

“And why would I help you exactly?” he questioned, crossing his arms across his chest, “may I remind you that I am your guest? If anything, you should be grovelling to me to fulfil my every wish.”

“You would like me on my knee for you, huh?” you teased, raising your eyebrows suggestively, causing the Doctor to open his mouth in rebut, though you were quick to cut him off before he could speak, “But you told Screwllum you would help, so too bad.” He sighed incredulously at your words.

“That was before you tricked me into apologizing and embarrassed me!’ he retorted, breathing heavily, as if relieved to finally let a retort escape his lips.

“Embarressed you in front of who exactly?” you cocked an eyebrow, looking between the Doctor and Ruan Mei’s creatures, “I don’t exactly think they’re the type to spread gossip ya know?” The Doctor and you watched as the creatures continued to jump around aimlessly, “So come on already, the sooner we do this the sooner we can leave each other alone.” The Doctor sighed, though he picked up two cameras nonetheless, trailing after you as you made your way through the Seclusion Zone. Your first step was the area overlooking the primary home of Ruan Mei’s creations, who seemed to longue by a toilet-like device nearby to where you were sitting. You easily began positioning a camera at the corner of the wall a few feet away from the toilet, allowing the device to display a view of the whole area.

“May I remind you that I have no loyalty to the Genius Society; I do not owe Screwllum my word, nor do I owe you anything,” the Doctor rebutted after a few moments of silence, as if he had been thinking of the retort, “However, I will help you this time out of the kindness of my heart.”

“Wow, isn’t this amiracle,” you ensured the camera was at least partly secure before turning to face him, placing a mocking hand to your chest, “The asshole Doctor caring for others? I’ll make sure to remember this moment; make sure to have your ghost writer reach out to me for your next autobiography so that I can tell them all the wonderful times we had together!”

“You read my autobiography?” he raised an eyebrow at you, though you didn’t notice due to your back once again being turned to him. You sensed the change in his tone though; less snarky and self-centered and more teasing, “I never knew how much of a fan you were; you should have told me Ms. Y/N, I would have gladly signed something for you.” You finished positioning the camera, turning to glare at the mocking smile on the Doctor’s face, “Is your propensity to teast me related to your infatuation with my work? It would explain why you make it you life’s mission to cause me strife; its akin to a child pulling their crushes hair on the playground!”

You scoffed, the Doctor trailing after you as you walked to the other side of the room near some plants that had been cultivated in the Seclusion Zone, and near a place where a few other of Ruan Mei’s creations had been lounging. The creatures were quick to give you some space to position the camera, “You wish, Doctor, I just find your reactions amusing,” you mused as you fiddled with the camera, “Screwllum lent me the book; I’ve got to say, eight doctorial degrees? Like holy shiy, at what could you’ve possibly learned in the eighth that you didn’t already learn in the seventh?”

A moment of silence passed again, you figured because the Doctor was looking to retort again. You weren't complaining though, the silence allowed you time to realize how fuzzy your head was becoming from the wine, and allowed you to find a suitable spot on the opposite side of the room near a staircase to plant another camera. You briefly glanced at the Doctor as you grabbed one of the cameras from his hand, earning no notable reaction. With a shrug, you tuned and began to position the device before the Doctor spoke again, “If I may be so bold… what exactly is your relationship with… Mr. Screwllum?”

“Huh?” you weren’t expecting that question, nearly dropping the unsecured camera, which you barely managed to pick up before it hit the ground. You turned to face him, as if searching his face for the intention behind his words, “What, you’re worried I’m taken? I’m flattered, Doctor, this is the second time today you’ve implied you wanted me to worship you on my knees. You sure don’t hold back on your kinks, huh?”

“Are you capable of responding to anything seriously” he exclaimed awkwardly, brushing off your attempt to deflect the situation. His eyes scanned your figure, taking in Screwllum’s button-down shirt that trailed down to the top of your upper thigh, “You clearly have… some romantic relationship with each other. I am merely curious how a man of his standing has the ability to put up with someone like you.”

“Believe it or not, I’m quite a pleasurable person to be around, you just bring out the worst in me, Doc,” you joked, pondering if you should place the camera or focus on the Doctor, but opted for the latter after you determined your next words, “The relationship Screwllum and I have is pretty simple - were just fuck buddies.”

You weren’t exactly sure how the Doctor would react to that information, though you would have never expected the mere word ‘fuck’ would cause him to open his mouth like a fish, sputtering as if he was speechless, his face red with embarrassment, “W-What?”

“What, eight doctorial degrees and you don’t know what the term fuck buddies is?” you cocked an eyebrow, a smirk growing it’s way on your features, “Ya know, friends with benefits, a situationship, meaningless sex, booty call-”

“I understand the concept!” the Doctor practically shouted, as if begging you to shut up, his face growing redder, “I just cannot comprehend how someone like him would be in a… sexual relationship with someone like you.”

“What, like you can’t picture how we do it?” you questioned teasingly, curving your middle and pointed finger in a ‘come here’ motion, “Come on, use your imagination, Doc! I’ll let you know that Screwllum is great with his fingers!”

Your actions only seemed to spiral the Doctor further into an embarrassed mess, one of his hands moving to attempt to hide the heat on his cheeks, “That is not what I meant,” he sighed, frustrated, “I merely wish to understand how one of the most notable men in the universe ended up being close to a mere security guard.”

“Oh,” you shrugged, turning away now to refocus on the camera, “I mean, that’s nothing special really if I had to be honest. Screwllum visits pretty often, so naturally we ended up talking at some point,” you looked over your shoulder at the Doctor, “Plus, haven’t you seen him? Dude’s smoking hot, of course I’d flirt with him after we got to know each other. It’s as simple as that.” By the strange look the Doctor was giving you, you were pretty sure he didn’t share your enthusiasm regarding the attractiveness of robots, not that it really mattered - more for you to have after all. 

“And yet you’re not dating,” the Doctor commented, trailing after you again as you once again wandered around the room to the wall opposite the stars to put up another camera. You barely glanced at him this time as you grabbed the last camera from him, quickly turning away. 

“We're not dating,” you kept your tone as casual as you could, focusing your attention on positioning the camera on the wall. You doubted the Doctor was the best at picking up on emotional cues, but you wanted to be safe nonetheless by avoiding his questioning gaze.

“I see,” he spoke simply before continuing, “I suppose that’s self-explanatory,” he commented offhandedly as you continued to avoid his gaze while focusing ion your work, “You don’t seem like the type to commit to a long term relationship; both you and Screwllum must have greater satisfaction with this… arrangement.”

God, if he was going to make you talk more about your sex life, you definitely would need more wine in your system, “Ah, Doctor, falling into assumptions of character?” you murmured as you secured the camera, “I expected more from your eight doctorate degrees.” Not seeing a way out of the inevitable, you half-hazardously finished placing the camera before wandering back towards the wine to take a swig, the Doctor once again on your heels.

“I do not understand your assertion,” he watched you impatiently as you took some swigs, the bottle nearly drained before you forced yourself to stop, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You were quick to grab two more cameras, motioning the Doctor to follow you once he grabbed two more of his own.

“... I was not the one who suggested our relationship be casual. It was Screwllum,” you once again kept your tone even as the Doctor followed you up the first flight of stairs, where you decided to place a camera beside the door to an experimental room. You looked at the Doctor over your shoulder after a moment of silence, “What, no witty remark for that one, Doctor?”

“I am merely confused,” he confessed, his tone curious. You preferred him more when he was mocking you, “I must admit, I am not familiar with your relationship with Screwllum, but he clearly showed care for you earlier.” Your mind wandered back to the robot, his touch on your skin, his reluctance to leave, the way his fingers expertly massaged your flesh, the way you were straddlingly him when the Doctor had found you. You shoke your head, as if to brush the memories away.

“That’s the thing,” you commented with a shrug, turning to face the Doctor now that the camera was secure to the wall, “At the end of the day, Screwllum will never seriously date someone because of who he is,” you shrugged, as if speaking those words didn’t pain you, “I obviously see him as someone extraordinary who is honestly a lot kinder than a lot of humans I know,” your eyes trailed down to the ground floor, eyeing Ruan Mei’s creations, “But at the end of the day, he’ll always be scared that he can never truly love me because he’s a machine,” you admitted, “Screwllum doesn’t think he’s capable of genuine love, so he won’t get himself in a situation where someone feels that way about him on a deeper level.”

“And yet you have feelings for him,” the Doctor commented as you walked into the experimental room after the first flight of stairs, placing another camera on the other side of the door. Your mind was foggy now with the wine, as if you knew you should stop talking but couldn’t. Maybe one of the Doctor’s degrees was in psychology, considering he seemed to know exactly how to make you spill your inner demons. 

“I think I did at one time,” you said honestly, “But I accepted that whatever I wanted with him won’t ever occur, and I moved on.” With the camera secure, you turned to face the Doctor, “You’re awfully curious about my failed love life, huh? What ‘bout you? Some cute chick waiting back at the University of Veritas Prime?”

“I have no time for romance,” he spoke plainly, crossing his arms over his chest disinterestedly, “There are much more pressing matters for someone of my standing to deal with than something a fickle as a relationship.”

“Spoken like a true virgin,” you clasped your hands together with a mocking smile, “How sweet, Doctor,” you turned away from him, the Doctor again trailing after you as you left the room and walked up the second flight of stairs, “Though, honestly, if I had to deal with your attitude everyday, I wouldn’t fuck you either. I’m sure hearing your voice day after day everyday while getting a degree would be enough to drive me to drop out. I pity all the women who had to deal with you year after year.”

“Very funny,” he spoke, sarcasm dripping from his tone, “Unfortunately for you and myself, many women have the propensity to throw themselves at me,” he sighed, as if recalling the incidents, “They are dull minded and not worthy my time, attention, or energy.”

“Hmm, curious,” you commented, unceremoniously climbing on top of a few metal boxes at the top of the stair case to reach an adequate area on the wall for your camera, “And yet you seem to always find me for some obnoxious conversation? Does that make me special?” you turned, smirking over your shoulder.

“We simply keep running into each other, you are not special,” the Doctor brushed off your comment, shooting you a judgemental stare as you descended from one pile of boxes to make your way to another file on the opposite side of the landing, grabbing the last camera from his hands before climbing up the boxes again.

“Awww, don’t be shy, Doc,” you teased, eyes focused on the camera instead of him, “You know there’s more to it - you’re the one who sought me out this time, after all,” you looked over your shoulder once the camera was secure, “If you’re falling for me, might as well tell me now so I can reject you before it’s too late.”

You turned back to the camera, one foot taking a step back so you could better check the accuracy of the angle. You gasped when your foot felt nothing to rest on, flailing your arms as your body began to fall backwards, cursing the stupid wine as you did so. Through your drunken haze, your mind attempted to think of any solution to get yourself out of this situation, though any logic snapped away when you felt him.

Doctor Ratio was quick to react, arms wrapping around your waist as your body fell, pulling you away from the boxes and closer to him. He made a small grunting noise as your body collided with his chest, his warmth surrounding you as he pulled you close to him. In his arms, you truly realized the extent of his physique, feeling the muscles in his chest against your back, and truly acknowledging the size of his arms as he held you against him. His body was hot, almost unbearably so, your body used to the cold metallic arms of your usual partner. It was comforting though; as if you were wrapped in a blanket. What overwhelmed you most, though, was his scent. His clothes smelt clean, as if they were fresh from the laundry, giving him a soft smell, a harsh contrast to his more harsh figure. However, as if to cover the softness up, there was a hint of cologne, nothing too strong but definitely something there that tickled your nose as you inhaled the musky scent. His breath tickled your exposed neck as he breathed, giving you goosebumps despite the overwhelming scent surrounding you.

“If anything, it seems as if you are the one falling for me,” he whispered into your ear, voice lacking its usual arrogance, replaced by something you wanted to label as flirtatious, but were afraid to do so. He chuckled at your lack of response, “It does feel nice to finally have you at a loss of words - as if I’ve finally reached a checkmate against one of my opponents. 

“No wonder women don’t like you,” you forced yourself to speak, voice lacking the confidence you wanted it to possess, “you just see them like chess pieces - a game to you.”

“I can reassure you, you’re the only one entertaining enough to resemble a challenge,” he laughed, making sure your feet were on the ground before he moved to release you. Your head was practically spinning then, a mix of the alcohol, closeness to the Doctor and some resemblance of dignity that was now absence after your tumble. You immediately felt cold at the absence of your skin, a feeling you usually were okay with. But now… now all you were craving seemed to be heat. 

He let out a yelp when you pulled his body back to yours, your back against his chest again, “Aeons, this is embarrassing,” you muttered, before turning your head to look at him, “...but can you hold me a little longer?” He hesitated slightly, looking you in the eye as if to see if you were testing him somehow. When you merely stared back at him, no hint of a smirk on your features, he sighed, moving his arms to adjust to your body again. You sighed in relief at the feeling of his arms wrap around your waist again, resisting the urge to nuzzle back against him.

“How drunk are you exactly?” he groaned in annoyance against you, though he didn’t make a move to leave your side, “This type of behaviour is ridiculous, even for someone as idiotic as yourself.”

“It’s not my fault that I want some comfort!” you defended, words slightly slurred now from the alcohol “You try fighting some stupid mutant bug and washing bug guts off yourself for two hours, and get back to me about how you feel!” you huffed, forcing yourself to move away from him, “Just forget it, let’s go grab more cameras and-” You gasped when he pulled you back towards him again, this time picking you up bridal style. The feeling of his strong arms against your legs made your shudder, the less PG part of your mind wondering how they would feel in more skin tight pants compared to the sweats you wore now,  “What the hell are you doing, put me down!”

“As if I’d let you walk after you almost cracked your skull open,” he scoffed, descending the stairs with you in his arms, his demeanour completely normal despite your weight in his arms, “Though I must say, your comments do make your behaviour this evening much more understandable.”

“I’m not some stupid puzzle for you to try to solve, bastard,” you resisted the urge to flail your way out of his arms, not wanting to fall on your ass again today.

He ignored your protests, continuing to speak, “I have to say, my intentions of asking about Screwllum were to try and dissect the curious behaviour you too displayed,” he began, descending the second flight of stairs, “If there truly is no romantic feelings between you two, why did he hesitate to leave? Why did he continue to touch you for as long as possible.” The Doctor carefully placed you down on the floor near the cameras before placing his hands on his hips, not batting an eye as you reached towards the wine, “It makes sense now; the anger, the reluctance to be alone, the mentions of fighting to the death.” He paused for a moment as if adding dramatic effect.

“You were scared. You don’t want to be alone. You want someone to comfort you - it is the only thing I can hypothesize behind Screwllum’s motives to suggest I remain here with you after he depart - he was worried about you.”

You downed the rest of the wine, bottle now empty as you placed it down, “Why do you have to be so smart? It’s annoying,” you murmured, the bottle falling to the ground as you failed to place it down properly, “So what if I wanna little comfort after almost dying, isn’t that normal?”

“And why, exactly, do you want this comfort from me?” he asked, cocking a curious eyebrow at you. 

It was a question you asked yourself too - why him? In all honesty, your two, now three, interactions with the Doctor had all been a pain in your ass, keeping you from doing something else that you wanted to do to deal with tiring conversation with some pompous asshole who had no desire to do anything but insult you… Yet you had to admit, the conversations were fun after all. Compared to the other people you surrounded yourself with at the Space Station, Doctor Ratio was new; exciting. He wasn’t afraid to poke your buttons to see what response he would get, something that you couldn’t really say about any of the other researchers. You supposed to closest thing was Herta, but even she couldn’t be bothered to talk to people most days, too focused on the damned Simulated Universe to give a shit about you. That was it - it had to be. You were craving something, or rather someone, who could challenge you, and it just so happened that this Doctor could.

…Not that you were going to tell him that, though. 

“I don’t exactly got a lot’a options here,” you gestured at the room, the only surroundings being Ruan Mei’s creations, “What, am I gonna rant to a stupid cat thingy about my fear of death?”

“You could have saved the rant for Screwllum,” the Doctor commented, eyes flickering from you to the empty wine bottle, “But you instead agreed to rant to me - you are smarter than to make excuses for your actions.”

You huffed, crossing your arms across your chest, “Aeons, and you say I’m the emotionally manipulative one - how did your stupid fancy University teach you to get information out of people so easily,” she sighed in defeat, “I’m not the type of person who wants to reflect on my emotions, and you’re the type of person to give me a distraction, that’s all there is to it.”

“I see,” the Doctor smirked, confidently sitting down beside you on the floor cross-legged, his knee briefly touching yours as he readjusted, “I’ve got to say, this sudden confession of your feelings towards me has me flustered. Perhaps it is you who wants to grovel at my feet, despite you suggesting the reverse.”

“Oh shut up, asshole,” you groaned, wishing you had more wine to drown your sorrows in. You attempted to stand up, extremely wobbly on your feet, “Lets put the rest of these stupid cameras up so I can get the hell out of this place.”

The Doctor grabbed your wrist as if to steady you, though the action didn’t seem to cure the wobble of your figure, “You’re clearly not in the condition to continue working. Why don’t you rest here and continue work later…” he trailed off, as if thinking how to finish his sentence, “...when you’re not stumbling around like a light weight.”

“Lightweight!” you exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “You try drinking a bottle of wine and see how you act!” The Doctor ignored your words, gently pulling you to the ground, placing one of his muscular arms around your waist, as if to prevent your escape.

“Just go to bed, the Station will be better off for a while without you stumbling around down here,” he stated bluntly, repositioning you so that you could rest your head on his chest, the rest of your body curled up beside him.

“At least let me sleep in my room,” you groaned, wiggling against his grip, “No offence, but my bed is a lot comfier than you’re stupidly buff chest.” He snorted slightly at the comment, arm still firmly holding you in place.

“You can barely walk,” he reminded you, “And I do not think either of us would benefit from the rumours that would result from me carrying you towards your room,” you could practically hear the gossip now - its not like researchers had much better to do than start baseless rumours anyway. 

“Ugh, you’re so stupid, Doctor,” you mumbled, accepting your fate and shifting your body slightly to get more comfortable, “You and you’re stupid eight Doctorate degrees, why are you so fucking frustrating?”

“Veritas,” he said softly, making you open your tired eyes to look at him. He gazed down at your figure from where you on his lap, “My name is Veritas. If we are going to be familiar enough to do… whatever this is, you may as well call me by my first name.”

“Veritas,” you tested the name on your lips, “First telling me to sleep on you, and then telling me your first name? What’s next, a marriage proposal?”

“Just shut up and sleep,” he huffed, holding you against his chest, letting you rest your body weight on him completely. You could hear his heartbeat as you rested there, a sound so unfamiliar to you considering your usual cuddling partners. However, somehow the rhythmic thumping was relaxing - a sign of life that showed you that there was someone by your side. It scared away any thoughts of that Aeon-forsaken bug that threatened to invade your mind.

“Dr- Veritas,” you corrected yourself sleepily, “You’ll stay with me, right?” your words were muffled as you spoke into his chest, eyes fluttering with the sleep that already wanted to flow over you.

“It is not like I have much of a choice given our current predicament,” he sighed, though his grip did not loosen on you. You smiled at his words, though your mind briefly wandered away for a second.

“I wanted to ask you,” you said softly, “Early today, you told the Trailblazer that you stumbled upon Ruan Mei’s research after coming down here for your own purposes…” you mumbled, forcing yourself to finish the question despite the desire to sleep, “...Why exactly were you down here in the first place?”

He was silent for a moment, though it was so brief that you wondered if you had made it up, “I will tell you when you awake, I promise.” You nodded, tired mind finding some sort of solace in his words, allowing you to finally let sleep overtake you.

It's only when you wake up the next day, Screwllum shaking your arm urgently, that you realize the Doctor went back on his word.

[adastra-sf]

Climate change-driven heatwaves threaten millions

Extreme record-breaking heat leads to severe crises across the world.

Already in 2024, from Israel, Palestine, Lebanon, and Syria in the West; to Myanmar, Thailand, Vietnam, China, and the Philippines in the East; large regions of Asia are experiencing temperatures well above 40°C (104°F) for days on end.

The heatwave has been particularly difficult for people living in refugee camps and informal housing, as well as for unhoused people and outdoor workers.

Using the Heat Index Calculator, at that temperature and a relative humidity of 50%, residents see a heat index of 55°C (131°F) - a temperature level humans cannot long survive:

In February, the southern coastal zone of West Africa also experienced abnormal early-season heat. A combination of high temperatures and humid air resulted in average heat index values of about 50°C (122°F) - the danger level, associated with a high risk of heat cramps and heat exhaustion.

Locally, temperatures entered the extreme danger level associated with high risk of heat stroke, with values up to 60°C (140°F):

Even here at Ad Astra's HQ in Kansas, last summer we saw several days with high temperatures of 102°F (39°C) at 57% humidity, resulting in a heat index of 133°F (56°C):

Of course, the major difference in survivability in Kansas versus some of the places suffering extreme heat right now is that air-conditioning abounds here. Those who live somewhere that faces extreme heat but can escape it indoors are a lot more likely to survive, but a person who lives somewhere without such life-saving gear faces not just discomfort, but heat stroke and even death.

This includes unhoused and poor people here in the wealthier parts of the world, who often do not have access to indoor refuge from the heat.

About 15% of US residents live below the poverty line. Many low-wage earners work outside in construction or landscaping, exposed to the ravages of heat. Many do not own an air conditioner, and those who do might need to budget their body's recovery from heat against cost to purchase and run cooling equipment. Because heat stress is cumulative, when they go to work the next day, they’re more likely to suffer from heat illness.

Bad as that is, for those living on the street, heatwaves are merciless killers. Around the country, heat contributes to some 1,500 deaths annually, and advocates estimate about half of those people are homeless. In general, unhoused people are 200 times more likely to die from heat-related causes than sheltered individuals.

For example, in 2022, a record 425 people died from heat in the greater Phoenix metro area. Of the 320 deaths for which the victim’s living situation is known, more than half (178) were homeless. In 2023, Texans experienced the hottest summer since 2011, with an average temperature of 85.3°F (30°C) degrees between June and the end of August. Some cities in Texas experienced more than 40 days of 100°F (38°C) or higher weather. This extreme heat led to 334 heat-related deaths, the highest number in Texas history and twice as many as in 2011.

The Pacific Northwest of Canada and the USA suffered an extreme heat event in June, 2021, during which 619 people died. Many locations broke all-time temperature records by more than 5°C, with a new record-high temperature of 49.6°C (121°F). This is a region ill-suited to such weather, and despite having relatively high wealth compared to much of the world, many homes and businesses there do not have air-conditioning due to a history of much lower temperatures.

Heatwaves are arguably the deadliest type of extreme weather event because of their wide impact. While heatwave death tolls are often underreported, hundreds of deaths from the February heatwave were reported in the affected countries, including Bangladesh, India, Thailand, Myanmar, Cambodia, and the Philippines.

Extreme heat also has a powerful impact on agriculture, causing crop damage and reduced yields. It also impacts education, with holidays having to be extended and schools closing, affecting millions of students - in Delhi, India, schools shut early this week for summer when temperatures soared to 47°C (117°F) at dangerous humidity levels:

At 70°C (157°F !), humans simply cannot function and face imminent death, especially when humidity is high. This is the notion of "heat index," a derivative of "wet-bulb temperature."

Though now mostly calculated using heat and humidity readings, wet-bulb temperature was originally measured by putting a wet cloth over a thermometer and exposing it to the air.

This allowed it to measure how quickly the water evaporated off the cloth, representing sweat evaporating off skin.

The theorized human survival limit has long been 35°C (95°F) wet-bulb temperature, based on 35°C dry heat at 100% humidity - or 46°C (115°F) at 50% humidity. To test this limit, researchers at Pennsylvania State University measured the core temperatures of young, healthy people inside a heat chamber.

They found that participants reached their "critical environmental limit" - when their body could not stop the core temperature from continuing to rise – at 30.6°C wet bulb temperature, well below what was previously theorized. That web-bulb temperature parallels a 47°C (117°F) heat index.

​The team estimates that it takes between 5-7 hours before such conditions reach "really, really dangerous core temperatures."

On March 5, 2024, Hong Kong saw temperatures of 27°C (80°F) with 100% humidity, which results in a heat index of 32.2°C (90°F) - seemingly not so bad until considering it's higher than the critical wet-bulb temperature. Also, if you watch the video, imagine the long-term effects of water accumulating in residences, such as dangerous mold.

We are witnessing the effects of climate change right now, all around the world, and rising temperatures are just the most-obvious (what we used to call "global warming"). Many, many other side-effects of climate change are beginning to plague us or headed our way soon, and will affect us all.

Unfortunately, those most affected - and those being hit the hardest right now - are people most vulnerable to heatwaves. With climate crises increasing in both intensity and frequency, and poverty at dangerous levels, we face a rapidly rising, worldwide crisis.

We must recognize the climate crisis as an international emergency and treat it as such. So much time, creative energy, resources, and life is wasted in war and the pursuit of profit or power - consider how much good could come from re-allocating those resources to ensuring a future for Earthlings, instead.

(Expect to see a "Science into Fiction" workshop on climate change coming soon - SF writers have a particular responsibility to address such important topics of change and global consequence.)

[oliveisme533]

My dad’s neighbor is a dilf

Chapter 1

Joel Miller x you

Summery: You had decided to spend your summer in Austin with your dad. You used to spend almost every summer there, but hadn't spent a summer there since you were a teenager. Which means you hadn't seen a certain Joel Miller in years..

You were a teacher so the summer months were nice and slow. As you packet your suitcase, you thought back to the phone call with your dad just a few weeks prior. "Hey babygirl, why don't you come on down to Austin for the summer? I know your roommate has been driving you a little crazy lately...wouldn't hurt to get a break ya know? Plus I miss you sweetheart... would love to see you"

You smiled at the memory of his words. He was right about your roommate being annoying lately. Nothing crazy...just normal roommate things. But most of all you missed your dad. Your college summers were all spent with your mom in Boston, so this visit was long overdue.

There airport was fucking packet of course. Airports made you anxious and you always got to your gate a couple hours early for fear of missing your flight. You sent a quick text to your dad letting him know you made it to the airport and would let him know when you safely landed. He loved the message and moments later your phone buzzed again.

Venmo: Dad sent you $50 for "Uber 🚗"

Your dad definitely did well for himself, He was a financial consultant and never missed out on an opportunity to splurge on you and your sister. You knew you wouldn't be swiping your card a single time once you stepped foot in his house for the summer, and you weren't complaining...teachers don't exactly make a ton of money. There was one thing nagging at the back of your mind that you hadn't let yourself think about until now. You always had kind of a girlish crush on your dad's friend and neighbor. You hadn't seen him in years and you wanted to believe he could find you attractive now that you were actually a grown woman. It was a fantasy you know would never come true even in your wildest dreams, but it was still fun to think about from time to time. You put your headphones and closed out the world.

You smiled as the warm air hit your skin as you walked across the tarmac with one hand shading your eyes from the Texas sun. Austin was where you spent your childhood. Before their divorce, your parents had brought you and your sister into a comfortable lifestyle that you were forever grateful for. Your mom headed to Boston after the divorce, you and your older sister followed suit, but Texas never stoped feeling like home. "Uber for y/n?" You slumped down into the air conditioned car with a sigh of relief. "Yes." You looked out the window as the familiar scene flew by. By the time the car turned into your neighborhood your mind had drifted far from Boston. Your stomach lurched slightly as you passed Mr. Millers house. His truck was in the driveway. You remembered a recent phone conversation with your dad where he mentioned Mr. Miller having kind of a hard time spending his first summer without his daughter Sarah. She was with her mom for the summer, a new arrangement you were pretty sure. Maybe you would go and visit him. He was the kind of family friend that had a key to your dad's house . What if he didn't remember you? You were being stupid. Mr. Miller didn't need to entertain a 20 some year old girl. He had friends his own age, a life, and for all you knew maybe a girlfriend. You brushed the idea off as the car slowed in-front of your dad's house.

Your key clicked in the door and you were promptly greeted by Lea, your dad's new kitten. Your sister and you joked that this was his first symptom of his mid life crises. The second being the fact that he now had a girlfriend. You flung your suitcase aside and sunk into the window seat of your bedroom. You have many memories of a younger version of yourself sitting here in the summer days, reading or just watching. In the evenings you were too busy sneaking out the back gate to do such things. You smile as you recall your reckless, teenage activities. You sigh and look down at your watch. Your dad won't be home for a couple more hours. A nap probably would serve you well. Before you get up, you feel your phone buzz again. It's your dad.

"Hey sweetheart I see you made it to the house. I completely forgot Joel said he was picking up some tools I borrowed from him last week. He knows the garage code, but didn't want you to be alarmed if he's there before I get home. See you soon xx"

You found yourself staring at the text... would Mr. Miller ...Joel, you correct yourself, would he even remember me? In the spirit of southern hospitality you decide to get dressed in something that does smell like the airport and go downstairs when you hear the garage opening. You walk through the front door and out towards the driveway where Joel is loading some tools in the back of his pick up truck. He glances up at you and a wide smile forms across his face. "Well hey!" He says. "Your dad told me you were coming in... welcome home!" The words warm your heart. This was home for sure. "Thanks, I'm glad to be back. Even just for the summer!" God his arms look good in that t-shirt... "well I know your old man is happy you're here. Hasn't shut up about you comin' for the last few weeks. 'Course I get it, countin' down the days 'till Sarah gets back myself." You giggle at the comment of your dad's excitement about your arrival. "Yeah dad told me she's with her mom for the summer right?" Joel nods closing the back of the pick up. "Yeah that's right." You noted a twinge of sadness in his voice. "I'm sorry I'm sure that's hard...I mean I know she loves being with her mom and you too. Of course she'll be back for school in the fall, but still I'm sure the summer feels different with out her. I'm not a parent though so I really have no idea what I'm talking about." You fumbled through this response and ended with a nervous laugh. Joel didn't mind. He looked at you with those fucking puppy dog eyes that could make you melt. He laughed too you were pretty sure the laugh was more at you than with you, but you kind of deserved it you figured. "You're sweet, yeah she's having a blast with her mom and that's all that really matters. Your dad has been putting up with me a lot. With an empty and quiet house it's just not the same, and he's been havin' me over lots" "Well I'm sure he appreciates the company too" you couldn't help but feel a little guilt that you had possibly made your dad feel the same emotions as Joel. "Well I gotta run, but I'm sure I'll be seein' you around. Good to see ya Darlin'" you waved as he pulled out of your driveway, grateful that he was probably too far away to see the blush on your cheeks.

The next few days went by with not much to remark on. On Friday your dad mentioned that Joel would be coming over for dinner tomorrow. You told yourself it was time to act like an adult and put this girlish crush out of your mind. Joel was at least 10 years your senior and he was a close friend of your dad, In fact these fantasies are simply degrading to him or disrespectful. You're not sure of the right word, but he's a person with a life and feelings and things he's going through. To make him the object of your fantasies was wrong, you decided.

Saturday evening came around and your dad was in the back grilling and playing his country music on the speaker you had gifted him last Christmas. There was a knock and the door and the sound of Joel's voice echoing through the entry way. You didn't bother coming out of the kitchen, knowing he would come to you. Your back was turned, focusing on the sangria recipe you were sure wouldn't turn out the way you wanted. "My dad's outback." You said gesturing to the back door. " I'm sorry, where are my manners!" You turned to open the fridge and pull out beer for Joel. "You ain't gotta make a fuss darlin' is just me" Joel chuckled. You wished he would stop calling you that, but you also hoped he never would. Joel y through the utensil draw to find the bottle opener. He asked about your day and you asked about his. "I can't get over how much you've grown up" he said at one point. "Yeah o guess the last time you would have seen me I was a lanky teenager with braces" you laughed and so did he. "I think you're right... if I recall you were just about the death of your old man when you were that age." You shrugged. "Yup that's about right. I had a nack for getting into trouble." He laughed that wonderful deep laugh and said "well you turned out alright, kid"

The rest of the evening you debated whether Joel saw you more as a grown woman or a kid. He had referred to you as both in a matter of minutes...so which was it? "What's on your mind kiddo?" Your dad's voice snapped you back to reality. "Oh ..um, nothing honestly. I'm just kind of tired today for some reason." You were both in the kitchen, Joel was still in the back yard getting ready to light a cigar. "Baby why don't you go upstairs and rest. I'll make sure to kick Mr. Miller here out if we get to rowdy." He said that last part loud enough for Joel to hear. "Dad jokes.." you mutter to yourself as you climb the stairs to the second floor of the house. Your bedroom is on the front end of the house, so by they time you get there, no noise from your dad and Joel can be heard. The sound of the shower in the bathroom drowned out the noise of your phone buzzing on your nightstand. When you exited the shower there was a missed call from "Ben" Ben Sinclair was your on again, off again boyfriend for the last 4 ish years. This time you were done. You had been broken up for a month this time and you told him (in no uncertain terms!) this was it. So what could he possibly want tonight...

[butchpeace]

Begging you to stop assuming that trans people are just gay people who can't admit to being gay. I'm bi regardless of whether I'm the woman the body I was born into is supposed to make me or the man that I feel like I was supposed to be. I won't say that no one has ever transitioned to avoid homophobia, but there are better ways to address that than to stop genuinely transsexual people from transitioning.

I've been in therapy for 27 years. Since puberty sunk its teeth in me. NOTHING is going to make me feel like being a woman is the right fit for me and trying to force myself to fit into that box has made me suicidal for decades. Convincing myself I could just be a masculine woman barely soothed any of that. I'm sorry that transition wasn't the right fit for you, and you deserve all of the support you need for that, but it's no more fair to force me to be a woman just because of the body that I was born into than it would be to force you to keep identifying as a man and taking hormones.

I don’t know you and it’s none of my business how you live your life.

My opposition to transition is primarily due to the medical risks of testosterone therapy on women.

Testosterone causes our reproductive organs to atrophy, potentially irreversibly. I’ve heard stories of people who develop chronic pain, persisting even after stopping T. People whose ovaries no longer work correctly after only a few years on T, causing various problems from low hormone production. People with urinary incontinence and pelvic floor issues caused by T essentially putting them into early menopause. PCOS worsening. Ovaries twisting. People who have had unnecessary gynecological surgeries due to the effects of T. People with chronic chest pain after top surgery. People who developed arthritis in their joints, or autoimmune conditions while on T. People who had mental health crises triggered by being on testosterone. People with chronic debilitating vocal pain or clitoral pain due to the effect on those areas. People who developed cholesterol or blood pressure problems only after being on T, causing them to be at higher risk for heart health issues.

That’s just off the top of my head, and that’s just things I’ve personally witnessed in myself and friends, both trans and detrans.

Live your life, do what makes you happy. I’m not going to stop talking about this health crisis that’s currently affecting young women, many of whom are just gay or tomboys, and would eventually become fine with themselves if they were able to grow up with masculine female role models and actual feminist education.

Even if there was a small minority of “true transsexuals”, even if you are one of them, that doesn’t make what I’m saying wrong or unimportant. You can’t deny that women are getting harmed by transition.

[twinterrors29]

Cody was about 6 (physically 12) when he and his batchmates started looking up Jedi they might be assigned to on the holonet, ostensibly gathering intel on preferred tactics and planning maneuvers that play to the different Jedi's strengths

Cody, of course, saw some footage of Obi-Wan, looks up his profile, and immediately said 'that one, he's it'

Wolffe told him that he's insane, that there's no way he can know who he'll be assigned to work with when the time comes, and also that Kenobi wouldn't care in the slightest anyway

Cody, of course, replied simply: 'Challenge Accepted'

he snagged Obi-Wan's space-email address and sets himself up as a penpal

again, Cody was Baby, but he'd already started training to write like a Commander of the GAR

Obi-Wan, for his part, was initially very confused about this stranger emailing him and their very confusing way of speaking, combining intense military jargon applied to all areas of life with very childlike topics and focus

then he concluded that this stranger is an older teenager, ie an 18 year old, who just graduated from a military academy and into service, looking for someone to talk to with shared life experience

and well, he'd been feeling a little isolated, spending most of his time with only an increasingly moody Anakin for company away on missions, so he responded, and continued responding

they became friends, and as Cody grew older, he definitely developed a bit of crush on the cute older guy who was giving him positive attention

he expressed this affection primarily through stronger exhortations for Obi-Wan to wear armor on his missions, and suffered a lot of teasing from his batchmates for blushing while checking his messages

when Obi-Wan was assigned to the Padme protection mission, he told his penpal just enough detail that Cody was able to figure out who it is Obi-Wan was after

and he had just seen Prime's ship landing...

so Cody messaged Obi-Wan back immediately, over voice for the first time, telling him to stay put on Coruscant because he had a lead to offer

then staged a minor coup, captured Jango, and brought him to Coruscant to present to Obi-Wan as a gift

Obi-Wan, meeting the seemingly-early-20's Cody in his armor, had all of his assumptions about his penpal apparently validated: clearly, the man he'd been talking to for the past four years was about 18 at the start, and had grown into a confident and attractive young man

so he decided to flirt a little

Cody had never been so tongue tied in his life

however, he managed to rally, focusing on handling off Jango as the suspect in Obi-Wan's investigation

Jango, of course, immediately refused to give away any useful information, only opening his mouth to call Cody a traitor, which gave Obi-Wan the further wrong impression about Cody and Jango's previous connection, suggesting that they were members of the same military organization (their armor looks Mandalorian? or Mandalorian inspired? Satine was always fretting about some terror cell or other, and the Journeyman Protectors on Concord Dawn did still wear armor he recalled)

Cody agreed to be taken out on a sort-of-date while Judicial started processing Jango, and they both had a great time and expressed a desire to continue this relationship

but then Sidious insisted on getting his plan back on track, the whole clone-army thing came to light right as the war started, and Cody turned to Obi-Wan and asked if he can be assigned to his battalion

Obi-Wan agreed despite his concerns about conflict of interest; after all, he's still assigned to work with his Padawan all the time

Cody was very smug at having finally fully proven Wolffe wrong

and then, of course, Obi-Wan heard about the double aging, did some hurried mental math, and had a completely different set of moral crises to fret over

[socialjusticeinamerica]

*Spoilers in the linked article.*

I caught an early screening last night. It wasn’t well attended. The film is more like a Blumhouse horror movie on steroids than anything you may have conceived ahead of time. It is very dark, gritty, and oppressive. It reminds me of of seeing Platoon and leaving the theater tired as if I had been in the battle.

The film doesn’t really play off of current politics but rather fictional plot lines so as not to offend the current right and left wings in America. Despite this it is an intensely realistic war film and edge of your seat thriller. The main characters are war correspondents and their personal detachment from the frightening scenes of violence, near indifference in some scenes, becomes a subplot.

Civil War depicts the chaos, fear, violence, deprivation, depravity, and sheer terror one can only experience by having been in a war zone. Nick Offerman, as the President, is only in a few brief scenes and though the film stays away from real life connections his character is in his “third term” and has disbanded the FBI. Clearly this is Trumpian but subtle enough to fly over the heads of MAGAts. Rogue militia men, not much different than we see in Red States, armed with AR-15’s are present throughout the film and generate tension and sheer terror at some points. The acts of graphically realistic barbarity are hard to process.

The film is a cautionary tale of an America plunged into an utterly chaotic and brutal Civil War where no prisoners are taken, literally on the screen. There are no good guys or bad guys and very little context or background is given. The closing photo on screen during the end credits speaks volumes. This is not just what is highly likely to happen if the right-wing doesn’t get their way but what the cost will be to society. Chaos, disruption, breakdown in the supply chain, the resulting lack of food and fuel, breakdown of the power grid, collapse of law and order, domestic terrorism, anarchy, devaluation of currency, humanitarian crises, destruction of infrastructure, and a constant state of fear.

Ok, begin rant here:

Sadly about a third of the country wants this to happen and has not only been preparing for it but actually trying to provoke it. In the eighties and nineties we saw hopeless young marginalized people in rural join gangs and be willing to toss their lives away because their situation was near hopeless. They expected to die young and didn’t care if they did or what harm they caused along the way. They lacked educational opportunities or any meaningful employment. Now in the two thousands we see rural southern and western white youth with the same mindset. Red state Republican governance and corporate plundering has left them poorly educated with no chance at socio-economic advancement. The difference between the two groups being that the poor rural whites have been brainwashed into supporting their oppressors. Further they are armed with military assault rifles and own a plethora of combat tactical gear.

This stems in part from the unholy alliance of the NRA and the GOP (Republicans). However more to the point it stems from the desensitization that two decades of forever wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have caused. This was courtesy of grifter war criminals Bush/Cheney. Our streets are now flooded with hundreds of thousands of traumatized, disillusioned, and disgruntled veterans and their tales fascinate MAGAs to the point where they form militias. The Republicans, who vote against veterans aid consistently, have claimed the military and falsely profess admiration for it with empty lip service. Poor and poorly educated Republicans now worship the military like they are warriors on the Klingon home world. Nothing against active or retired military just the Republican pretenders. While Joe MAGA himself doesn’t serve, he feels the need to play pretend soldier and would in a heartbeat turn his life inside out and our nation inside out for a sense of belonging, ie the MAGA cult mentality. They want that post apocalyptic gun slinger world where they believe life is simple as long as you are carrying a gun. They have been conditioned not to think things through and see no other escape from a society that has become too complicated for them to navigate.

That’s the crux of my story, rural Republicans feel hopeless and have been radicalized by demagogues to the point they will wage war on the rest of the country. Republican politicians and their corporate/oligarch masters want to gorge themselves off of a civil war they believe they will win. See the movie Civil War and see what the ordinary MAGAt is hoping to do to the rest of us.

The movie, although brutal and not for the faint of heart, is a cautionary tale that we need to be aware of.

[dragon-in-a-fez]

How was Antarctica? If you’re willing to talk about it! I’ve been wanting to do a trip to Antarctica (whether via employment or tourism) and am curious to know about other people’s experiences!

it was incredible. I think it precipitated like three separate early mid-life crises.

I'll tell you about my favourite moment. I was out in one of the small boats with about a dozen people, all fellow photographers, and we were rambling around this bay that was full of humpback whales, and we saw this baby - keep in mind, a baby humpback whale is still, like, the size of a small bus - playing in the water. splashing around, rolling over, acting basically like how you'd expect a human baby going swimming for the first time to act. and then after a few minutes we noticed there was another animal playing with him - a fur seal. tiny little thing by comparison, but they were clearly interacting. they'd wave to each other, mirror each other's rolls, poke their heads out of the water at the same time. two creatures who have no practical reason to interact at all, just having so much fun together. it was the purest expression of joy I've seen in my life.

honestly, the whole two-week trip would've been worth it just for those five minutes watching them.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

By Robert Pearl, M.D.

In the late 1970s and early ‘80s, a mysterious illness spread through America’s overlooked communities, mainly affecting intravenous drug users and homosexual men.

The disease, which caused a sudden and devastating collapse of the immune system, was unlike anything doctors had seen before. Patients arrived at hospitals with rare infections like Kaposi’s sarcoma and fungal pneumonia.

But despite the rising number of cases, public health officials remained silent for years. Few Americans saw it as a national emergency, especially since the disease seemed confined to society’s fringes, at least initially.

By the time the government and public fully grasped the threat in 1986—following Dr. C. Everett Koop’s “Surgeon General’s Report on AIDS”—tens of thousands of Americans had already died.

Looking back on this and other public health crises, it’s clear that medical science alone isn’t enough to save lives. To prevent similar tragedies, public health leaders and elected officials must first understand the role denial plays in people’s perception of medical threats. They must then develop effective strategies to overcome it.

The Psychological Basis For Denial Denial is a powerful, usually unconscious defense mechanism that shields individuals from uncomfortable or distressing realities. By repressing objective facts or experiences—especially those that provoke fear or anxiety—people can maintain a sense of stability in the face of overwhelming threats.

Historically, denial was vital to daily life. With little protection against illnesses like smallpox, tuberculosis or plague, people would have been immobilized by fear if not for the ability to repress reality. Denial, mixed with superstition, took the place of facts, allowing society to function despite the ever-present risks of death and disability.

Today, even with tremendous advances in medical knowledge and technology, denial continues to influence individual behavior with detrimental consequences.

For example, more than 46 million Americans use tobacco products, despite their links to cancer, heart disease and respiratory illness. Similarly, tens of millions of people refuse vaccinations, disregarding scientific consensus and exposing themselves—and their communities—to preventable diseases. Denial extends to cancer screenings, as well. Surveys show that 50% of women over 40 skip their annual mammograms, and 23% have never had one. Meanwhile, about 30% of adults between 50 and 75 are not up to date on colorectal cancer screenings, and 20% have never been screened.

These examples demonstrate how denial leads individuals to make choices that jeopardize their health, even when life-saving interventions are readily available.

A Pattern of Denial: How Inaction Fuels Public Health Crises When individual denial scales up to the collective level, it fuels widespread inaction and worsens public health crises. Throughout modern medical history, Americans have repeatedly underestimated or dismissed emerging health threats until the consequences became impossible to ignore.

Early warnings of the HIV/AIDS epidemic were largely ignored, as the stigma surrounding affected populations made it easier for the broader public to deny the severity of the crisis. Even within at-risk populations, the lengthy delay between infection and symptoms created a false sense of security, leading to risky behaviors. This collective denial allowed the virus to spread unchecked, resulting in millions of deaths worldwide and a public health challenge that persists in the United States today.

Even now, four decades after the virus was identified, only 36% of the 1.2 million Americans at high risk for HIV take PrEP (Pre-Exposure Prophylaxis), a medication that is 99% effective in preventing the disease.

Chronic diseases like hypertension and diabetes mirror this pattern of denial. The long gap between early signs and life-threatening complications—such as heart attack, stroke and kidney failure—leads people to underestimate the risks and neglect preventive care. This inaction increases morbidity, mortality and healthcare costs.

Whether the issue is an infectious disease or a chronic illness, denial causes harm. It allows medical problems to take root, it delays care and it leads to tens of thousands preventable deaths each year.

The Unseen Parallels: COVID-19 And Mpox Our nation’s responses to COVID-19 and mpox (formerly known as monkeypox) similarly illustrate how denial hampers effective management of public health emergencies.

By March 2020, as COVID-19 began to spread, millions of Americans dismissed it as just another winter virus, no worse than the flu. Even as deaths rose exponentially, elected officials and much of the public failed to recognize the growing threat. Critical containment measures—such as travel restrictions, widespread testing and social distancing—were delayed. This collective denial, fueled by misinformation and political ideology, allowed the virus to take root across the country.

By the time the severity of the pandemic was undeniable, hospitals and health systems were overwhelmed. The opportunity to prevent widespread devastation had passed. More than 1 million American lives were lost, and the economic and social consequences continue today.

Mpox presents the most recent example of this troubling pattern. On August 14, the World Health Organization declared mpox a global health emergency after identifying rapid spread of the Clade 1b variant across several African nations. This strain is significantly more lethal than previous variants, having already caused over 500 deaths in the Democratic Republic of Congo, primarily among women and children under 15. Unlike earlier outbreaks associated mainly with same-sex transmission, Clade 1b spreads through both heterosexual contact and close family interactions, increasing its reach and putting everyone at risk.

Despite these alarming developments, awareness and concern about mpox remains low in the United States. International aid has been limited, and vaccination efforts have fallen far behind the growing threat. As a result, by the time the WHO issued its emergency declaration, only 65,000 vaccine doses had been distributed across Africa, where more than 10 million people are at risk. Already, cases have appeared in Sweden and Thailand, and the U.S. may soon follow.

Even with the added danger of the new variant and the proven efficacy of the JYNNEOS vaccine, only one in four high-risk individuals in the United States has been vaccinated against mpox. Our slow and delayed response to Covid-19, mpox, HIV/AIDS and nearly-all chronic diseases demonstrate how widespread denial is, the lives it continues to claim and the urgent need to address this hidden defense mechanism. The best way to overcome denial—both individually and collectively—is to bring the risks into clear focus. Simply warning people about the dangers isn’t enough. Strong leadership is crucial in breaking through this subconscious barrier.

Lessons To Learn, Actions To Take Dr. C. Everett Koop’s public health campaign on AIDS in the 1980s demonstrated how clear, consistent messaging can shift public perception and drive action. Similarly, former Surgeon General Luther L. Terry’s landmark 1964 report on smoking educated the public about the dangers of tobacco. His report spurred subsequent efforts, including higher taxes on tobacco products, restrictions on smoking in public places and health campaigns using vivid imagery of blackened lungs—leading to a significant decline in smoking rates.

Unfortunately, government agencies often fall short, hampered by bureaucratic delays and overly cautious communications.

Officials tend to wait until all details are certain, avoid acknowledging uncertainties, and seek consensus among committee members before recommending actions. Instead of being transparent, they focus on delivering the least risky advice for their agencies. People, in turn, distrust and fail to heed the recommendations.

Early in the COVID-19 pandemic, and more recently with mpox, officials hesitated to admit how little they knew about the emerging crises. Their reluctance further eroded public trust in government agencies. In reality, people are more capable of handling the truth than they’re often given credit for. When they have access to all the facts, they usually make the right decisions for themselves and their families. Ironically, if public health officials focused on educating people about the risks and benefits of different options—rather than issuing directives—more people would listen and more lives would be saved.

With viral threats increasing and chronic diseases on the rise, now is the time for public health leaders and elected officials to change tactics. Americans want and deserve the facts: what scientists know, what remains unclear and the best estimates of actual risk.

[vilevexedvixen]

Character ages

So, alongside the question of what languages the characters would speak based on context and era, me and my mate were trying to guestimate Fowler's age.

Of all the characters, he has the most to go off of in terms of dates. The nine years war with the Tudors occured between 1593 and 1603. By current theories, memories don't form until age 4 or so. Fowler likely had to have been born at least a little before the war started or in its early days (the famine occurred further into the war ~1602 *not entirely sure though, couldn't find an exact date), which would be in the late 1580s or early 1590s.

The final episode of season 1 apparently occurs in 1657, in accordence with the Great Fire of Meireki in Edo that occured in the same year. Making Fowler either in his late 60s or early 70s.

Doing pretty well for himself at that age. Dude's built like a tank! ^^'

Mizu, Taigen and Akemi are probably a similar age, or at least Mizu and Taigen since they seemed similarly aged in Mizu's flashbacks.

Not sure about Ringo. Seems a similar age too.

Assuming the point in time there would only be four white men in Japan (no more, no less) would be around the time the borders shut, AND also make the assumption that Mizu was born around that same time (a lot of assumptions, I know) then Mizu (and by extension Taigen and Akemi) would be around 24 years old by 1657.

*Edit: In episode 3, Heiji says he's been around Fowler for "20 years". Whether that's exact or rough implies a 20-24 year timeframe between Mizu's birth and 1657, I'm not sure. I'm also not sure if Heiji was immediately in contact with Fowler upon his arrival, or was assigned to him after the fact - hence the discrepency.*

As for Heiji, he's clearly the younger of the Shindo brothers. Going by appearance, probably approaching or at middle age. Not to mention, likely having a mid-life crisis. And like with most mid-life crises, he took up a hobby!

But yeah, Fowler's the only character I have much specific to go off of (i.e. not just appearance and vibes).

[yuurivoice]

since you love to write, does your job ever feel like actual work? Kinda like that saying “if you love your job, you’ll never work a day of your life.” Kinda question.

also, how much free time do you normally have?

It felt like actual work from pretty early on. The moment I crossed over from doing it for funsies to sometimes taking commissions I didn't really feel strongly about for money, it was work.

I've had to drag my ass into the booth and record on days when I couldn't even take care of my basic needs because of ADHD struggles, and that sure felt like work.

I've had to write like absolute dogshit and just accept it because I had deadlines and people waiting on me. That felt like work.

I've had to spend hours breaking down different shots needed for visual projects, like a caveman painting on a wall for a renaissance artist to reference. That definitely felt like work.

I've had to deal with community moderation, personal betrayals of trust, harassment, goddamn pr crises, tax nightmares, and shipping hundreds of orders by hand. That was work.

That old cliche of if you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life is a crock of shit. But all of that being said, even though it is work, and even though it can be really difficult sometimes?

Wouldn't trade it for the world. There is no other calling for me, my heart is not satisfied if I am not telling stories, and for some reason the universe decided that this was the path forward. I didn't plan on it. I never loved voice acting, but I learned to. I wish there was less bullshit over the years that robbed me of my joy. I wish I wasn't fighting my brain for so much of the time I've been doing this.

But the good will always outweigh the bad.

It's a dream fulfilled. I never needed or wanted to be some sort of massive sensation, or have broad renown or appeal. I didn't need to become a best selling author, or create a hit video game, or do anything like that. I am happy that I've found even a small group of people who love to get lost in my worlds, or spend time with my characters, or hear them get railed in pumpkin patches.

I get to experience the magic of creating something I didn't know was within me. Again and again. Projects like BitterSweet, Shattered, and Echoes of Evalas are precious to me because of the wondrous feeling creating those stories gives me. They could all flop, and I'd do it anyway.

I was creating art when no one was ever there to listen or watch. In that regard, it's never been work. It is a function of my existence. I was made, raised, and shaped to tell stories. It's the one thing I can do. At a table of friends, an audience of hundreds, or on long drives by myself. It's like breathing. It just happens.

Being able to call it work is a privilege. I'm thrilled that I've got the chance to work. I'm happy that I even have the opportunity to have days where I have to push myself. Because it has given me more than I've ever thought it could. I was on food stamps living with family under constant threat of getting kicked out. I was lonely, isolated, and scared of the world. I was considered lazy.

Finding my lane, getting traction, and thriving was something I considered out of reach. I was ready to tap out and accept that I just wasn't quite right for life. Like maybe I just didn't have all the right parts. I was okay with it, even. I was tired.

So yeah. It's work. But I spent a long time desperate to find work I was suited for, and with a lot of recent life changes I've removed many of those points of friction that would make it tough to work. So I'm thrilled.

And that, my friends, is what happens when you ask a professional yapper if they love yapping. 😂

As for free time, it's hard to say. So much of what I do being my own boss and shit, plus creative stuff just constantly churning in my brain, I struggle to clearly define what is and is not "free time". I basically have to be on call. At any given moment something might need my attention, or creativity comes knocking. It's hard to completely disconnect.

I've done a good job of getting into the office about four times a week. That has helped me find some sort of balance, but even recent writing I've done was on my laptop at my little breakfast nook having coffee.

I think the big thing is, I can create my free time whenever I need or want to.

Anywho, this is why you don't open Tumblr when you wake up to pee in the middle of the night because then you spent 30 minutes staring at your phone writing a whole ass essay. I'm gonna go get out of bed and make something awesome now. 💖