#fell down a keys to the city internet hole and found these?

[oldbaton]

Keys to the cities of Austin and Dallas, Texas that were presented to Carol Channing

[black-streak]

Little Pistol - Daisy

Chapter 1

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I'm trying to keep this in line with her canon personality to an extent here. Determined, focused, conniving and scheming. A little obsessive. But also needs to give herself a little pep talk to go through with things. Let me know how I'm doing?

Btw, title is by Brand New.

LP Taglist

@zalladane @moonlightstar64 @amayakans @elmokingkong @queen-in-a-flower-crown

Permanent list

@naoryllis @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @my-name-is-michell @maribat-is-lifeblood @dast218 @novicevoice @shizukiryuu @princess-of-fangirls @bigpicklebananatree @pirats-pizzacanninibles @abrx2002 @breemeister @darkthunder1589 @thestressmademedoit @severelyenchantedwonderland @isabellemasen @multi-fandom-freak0221 @fantasyloversblog @bzz75 @cloudiedraws @jardimazul @orbitsvt @gingerdaile @sotheresthatthought @kadmeread @novaloptr @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @crazylittlemunchkin @18-fandoms-unite-08 @tiny-goddess-of-chaos

~---~

Convincing a miniaturized pocket god that your intentions are sound came surprisingly easy to her.

That could be in part due to all the prior planning. Considering every possible argument the goddess could come up with and creating contingencies to match. Really though, taking out Tikki's own advice and laying it out as a perfect reasoning quieted her down quite nicely. Not that Tikki agreed with her, but the logic was too sound to push back on and the little bug never expected Marinette to come up with such thoughts without getting emotional. It just wasn't the way the girl was as far as Tikki was concerned. So it could only be taken at face value without the usual accusations of her being overdramatic.

It was an early Saturday when she voiced her thoughts.

"Hey Tikki?"

"Yes, Marinette?" the red bug looked up from her perch.

"Our biggest priority is to stop akumas and find Hawkmoth, correct?"

"Of course. You know that," she dismissed.

"So is it reasonable to say that Chat has been a hinderance to our duty?"

"How do you mean?"

"He distracts me or sits out on important battles. Threatens to quit if details that don't pertain to our purpose are withheld. He refuses to remain professional in the face of an attack."

"Well yes, he has been rather unhelpful lately, but then again, you are teenagers. It's to be expected, I suppose. Though I do wish he'd be a bit more focused," she easily agreed.

Marinette bit back a victorious smile and kept her expression closed off but for the determined, calculating expression she saved for important moments. Like now.

"In that case, it would be a good idea to make him focus any way I can. To make it easier. To hurry along the hunt for Hawkmoth."

Tikki's expression became weary as she stared at her welder, taken off guard by the open statement, "I don't know, Marinette...What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing yet, but I think I'm going to start brainstorming some ideas. Maybe do a little research. Something needs to change though," she emphasized, staring down her kwami with a hopeful, prodding look until she hesitantly nodded her agreement.

With the god's blessing, she turned to her tablet, pulling up everything she could on different heroes and their methods. Down the rabbit hole she fell.

… 

Some thirteen hours had passed and she felt the strain of her eyes and the bright burn to her retinas for the effort of her work. She refused to believe that no inspiration would come from this effort, though she'd moved on from conventional heroes and into a more sketchy territory by now, having been let down by the uptight views of others who'd obviously never been harassed or neglected by their partner and therefore wouldn't understand her need for a more, let's say, gray solution.

She'd seen the ideals of Superman and the Lanterns and the generalized view of both the Teen Titans and Justice League alike. Many worked with partners, many had betrayals or interpersonal problems. The solution they always took was for one or both parties to leave the team and travel to opposite sides of their country. Or world. Or separate worlds. Either way, avoidance was key. That didn't really work for her though. She had to stay in close contact with her partner while not truly working together. Remain civil within the same city limits. Fight side by side even. And it's not like she could just leave her responsibility here or allow Chat to go unchecked with a miraculous on his own. 

Then she stumbled upon Batman's history. The infamous bat had many a partner or sidekick with their own rough history and seemed to be operating with them regularly still. His solution to a lost or dead partner seemed to be a steady stream of replacements. Unfortunately, unlike a vigilante suit, a miraculous has to resonate with the wearer and no one she knew and trusted would fit the black cat. So she was stuck with the one.

Still though, Batman apparently had a falling out with his first Robin who became Nightwing. Those two were seen together regularly now so something must have happened to fix their issues. Gods, she was so lucky the internet seemed to stalk these people hardcore enough to have so much information on them so readily available. However, looking deeper, the resulting theories and knowledge did not bode well for her. It seems Nightwing had been in much the same state as her and with zero apologies from the Bat, had forgiven the man and resumed operations as usual. Well she was done with forgiving and forgetting. She wanted a real solution, not just rolling over and letting Chat do as he pleased! 

Alright, so Batman was the Chat Noir to the Robin's Ladybug. Maybe the others fared better?

Nope, second one died.

Current one seems to be a literal feral child out to bleed Gotham dry. Not sure how that helped, though maybe she could go just psycho enough to force Chat to be the responsible one? No, he'd just try and quit again.

Huh.

There was a third and fourth one apparently? Between the murder baby and the dead one. What happened to them?

The fourth was a blonde girl with a short stint. Seems she just moved departments since many speculated she might be a batgirl or working with a few others in the city. Not much more.

But what about the other one?

The third Robin, who worked with the Teen Titans for a stint. Who worked many years under the Bat, who gave away the title to the blonde only to return after and disappear once more with the coming of the blood toddler. What happened? Where'd he go?

…

Thousands had apparently asked the same question themselves. All signs seemed to point towards a betrayal. Something went wrong. The first resigned, the second died, the third just seemed to drop off the face of the planet. Did Batman kick him out? Replace him? For child's play, sword addition? She couldn't be sure, but it seemed the most likely guess. Much more believable than alien kidnapping or a quest for a dead man or his predecessor coming to life to end him.

But what after that? 

Surely, Marinette could've stopped there. Obviously, this wasn't the same as her situation, but she couldn't help but be so very intrigued. She watched videos of the boy in his Robin suit (much more practical than the first two if you asked her, though still slightly shameful) fighting and flying across rooftops and working with his team. He was so. So. Efficient. So clean. Ruthless when he decided to be. Calculated. Everything she ever wanted to be. 

He was amazing.

And then he disappeared.

Where did he go, that perfect Robin. How could anyone ever think the position needed an upgrade when the perfect bird was already there? It made no sense. And then she found him. Hunting through the rogues and heroes and inbetweens of Gotham, hidden in his own layerings of cover stories and identities. Her new aspiration of what a hero should be, mixed into the Anti-heroes of the city.

The vigilante of the more morally ambiguous variety, manipulating the world to the way he saw fit, using whatever method he wished. And the way he seemed to bend the city to his whim, well it matched quite well with how she wished her own city would be. She found her solution. Now it was showtime.

…

"Are you ready to apologize, m'lady?" Chat dropped down at her side, the akuma of the week tied up below them. It was a relatively easy battle, with no need for special abilities for once.

"Whatever for, Chatton?" Marinette asked, already tensing at the response she knew she'd receive. She hated when he tried to coerce her into apologizing for things that aren't her fault.

"For your neglect of your kitten, obviously."

"I don't have a kitten," she stated plainly.

"What? You wound me, to disown me so abruptly," he put a clawed hand to his chest, offense and hurt in spades marking his features.

"I can't disown what I never adopted," she went along with the analogy so he wouldn't complain about her ruining his fun again. The last thing she needed was his whining.

He perked up with this, "Well we can draw up some adoption papers right now if you wish? I'd love to be yours," he smarmed, leaning into her space further. 

This was it. Time to turn the tables. To make this work in her favor. She just needed to play it right, the way her Robin did. By manipulating the enemy into doing her bidding. She could do this.

"That's just it, though. I don't believe you would," she frowned, letting her eyes soften the way she'd seen Lila do so often. Might as well learn something from the girl.

"What? I would," he insisted, eyebrows furrowing.

"See you say that, but where's the proof? You've done nothing but pester and punish me over these weeks. You say you love me, but then watch me get hurt by akumas and make me fight all alone and threaten to leave me. That's not the actions of a loving partner. It feels like you hate me."

That had him panicking.

"No no, I don't hate you, you're my sun and my moon. My everything. Surely you know your worth in my life. I only did those things to show you how much you hurt me." He attempted to reason with her.

"See, but I've never intentionally hurt you. And always apologized to you when I realized I had. Whereas you just admitted to causing me distress as a form of punishment. It seems to me that I'm far more attached to you than you are to me and I'm just not willing to hurt myself by getting involved with someone who so obviously dislikes me."

"I- no- that's not- I love you! I didn't mean to do that, I shouldn't have. Please believe me? I love you, Ladybug," he begged, ears dropping and body tensed in fear.

"I'm sorry, but until I see some proof, I can't do that," she shook her head before taking off home without a backward glance, leaving the cat to his misery.

…

That night, Tikki went straight to bed and refused to speak to her for the next two days.

[chelsfic]

The Hot List, in which the NYC Familiar Discord Ranks their Masters - Nandor x Guillermo Fanfic (one-shot, crack!)

Summary: The familiars of New York City use Discord to connect and blow off steam...and also to rank their masters’ hotness. Nandor discovers this impertinence and throws an internet fit.

Tags: Crack with a touch of angst

A/N: I don’t know. 

---

NYC Familiar Chat #thirsty

Celeste-is-Best: nngh, have you guys seen Mr. 50ss’s’s’ss instagram story????

Celeste-is-Best: He’s so pretty! it’s like turn me, already!

Imurdad | colby: I know, right? I can’t believe he’s only 7 on the hot list…

[Gigi the great and sam teh pretty like this]

Gigi the great: Don’t forget to vote on this month’s poll!!

Best Hair!

We’re the ones who make them look pretty--but who’s the prettiest one of all? This month we’re voting on the NYC vampire with the best hair. Cast your vote!

A. Simon the Devious

B. Nandor the Relentless

C. Tilda

D. Evan

E. Houston

F. Nancy the Relentless

---

Guillermo locked his phone with a little smile. If he could he’d vote a hundred times for Nandor’s hair. It was unlikely that his master would win against the likes of Evan, Tilda and Nancy. He’d thrown Simon on there as a joke and was kind of horrified by how many familiars seemed to be into the limp mullet look. To each their own, he guessed.

On that note, it was almost nightfall and Nandor’s hair wasn’t going to brush itself. Guillermo made his way into the crypt, lighting candles and gathering the soft brush, comb, detangler spray and hair oils. Nandor was what he lovingly referred to as “high maintenance.” He was also surprisingly pitiful for a 750-year old warlord. It took Guillermo ages every night to carefully tease out and brush the knots from his hair without hurting him. It should’ve been annoying after so many years, but the chore remained one of the highlights of Guillermo’s day. 

For one thing, he got to touch his master without being scolded or hissed at. So that was nice. For another thing, Nandor’s hair was as soft as his personality was prickly. Guillermo would often drag out the task, running his fingers through the silky strands and lightly touching Nandor’s jaw to get him to tilt his head this way or that. 

He was doing just that, as well as admiring the expanse of cream and bronze skin revealed by the open collar of Nandor’s loose shirt, when the vampire opened his mouth. 

“Guillermooo...Did you happen to get any virgins for tonight?”

Guillermo’s fingers momentarily tightened around a hank of his master’s hair. He imagined giving it a sharp tug. He forced himself to loosen his grip and replied, “No, master, I’m sorry. Virgins are getting pretty thin on the ground lately. I managed to pick up a couple people from a bible study class, though. They should taste pretty innocent, right?”

Nandor made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat before answering, “You’d be surprised.”

---

NYC Familiar Chat #the-struggle

Gigi the great: I know we all jealously guard our sources, but I’ve been in a dry spell for a few weeks and my master is going to lose it and drink me one of these nights. Anyone have any new leads on virgins in the area?

Gigi the great: I’ve tried the usual stuff...LARPers, church socials, chastity clubs (surprisingly unhelpful…). I’m kinda desperate!

Direct Messages

Celeste-is-Best: only because you had my back last month when I ran out of burial sites…

Gigi the great: OMG! Celeste, please!! 🙏 🥺

Celeste-is-Best: there’s a magic the gathering tournament in brighton heights this weekend...😈

Gigi the great: You are like the virgin whisperer, Celeste. Thank you!

Celeste-is-Best: np

Celeste-is-Best: hey! Are you posting the poll results soon? I voted for Tilda--don’t tell Houston!! LOL

#main

Gigi the great: The results are in! The vampire with the best hair in NYC is……..EVAN!

Check out the Google Form for the full results...

docs.google.com...best_hair

Evan (26%)

Tilda (22%)

Nancy the Relentless (17%)

Simon the Devious (16%)

Nandor the Relentless (13%)

Houston (6%)

---

“What are you typing over there on your intelligent phone?”

Guillermo hurriedly tucked his phone away and looked up to find his master mopping blood from his mouth with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. They were in an alleyway a few buildings down from the comic shop. The limp body of Nandor’s victim lay discarded on the dirty ground. Guillermo smiled affectionately at Nandor trying and failing to clean himself. He took the hanky from him and set about doing the job himself. The snow white fabric was quickly drenched in dark red arterial blood. 

“I was just, um...checking on another potential virgin source,” he lied. 

The familiar Discord was strictly secret. If any of their masters ever found it and saw their human servants’ uncensored discussions... The thought sent a panicked tremor down Guillermo’s spine and he thought--for the thousandth time--that he should delete the app and not look back. But the idea of continuing with this emotionally draining, thankless job without his little support system was just as disturbing. Besides, the server had really come through for him tonight.

“Well done, Guillermo!” Nandor praised him and Guillermo’s heart swelled pathetically. A small, shameful part of him imagined Nandor patting him on the head and he didn’t hate it. “That was the most delicious virgin I’ve had in months!”

“Thank you, master,” Guillermo smiled sweetly, his cheeks dimpling. Nandor watched him for a long moment and he could swear he saw his master’s eyes linger on his mouth. He shut that thought down before it could bloom into a hope that was only doomed for disappointment. 

“Well…I’ll see you back at the house.” Nandor vanished before his eyes, taking his bat form and darting out of the alley with a high-pitched squeak and a furious flap of his leathery wings.

Guillermo sighed, looked at the broken body and wondered if he’d be able to fit his car down the narrow alley or if he’d have to drag the corpse to the opening. He fished out his keys and started the short walk back to his parking spot. All the while thinking, with distracted horror, Simon the Devious beat out Nandor for best hair?!? Really?

---

Direct Messages

Gigi the great: Hey, thanks! The Magic tournament was a hit!

Celeste-is-Best: i do live to serve…

Gigi the great: Har har.

#bitch-session

mish-bish: Ugh!!! Pretty sure my asshole master is hypnotizing me again.

call-me-karen: That’s rough, Misha! You wanna talk about it? My master lets me take the car whenever I want. I can come pick you up…

mish-bish: Yeah, like...I definitely have a huge black hole in my memories from last night. Fuck.

mish-bish: Oh, that’s ok Karen. Thanks.

Gigi the great: Hey @mish-bish. Sorry you’re having a hard time. If you feel up to it, check out the #support channel. A lot of other familiars have gone through this and talked about it there. Sometimes it helps to hear how others cope!

---

“Guillermo! Guillermoooo!”

Nandor’s panicked bellow reached him all the way in the basement where he was checking his lye supply. Guillermo huffed it up the stairs and raced into the fancy room where he found his master staring aghast at his laptop.

“Wh-what is it, master?” he asked, bent over and catching his breath.

“Someone named...Rap4Unlyfe has sent me a fake news!” Nandor wailed, gesturing to the laptop as if the device was personally responsible. 

Guillermo suppressed an eyeroll and walked over to sit beside his master. He watched in dismay as Nandor scooched farther down the couch but he tried not to let it sting too much. 

The browser was open to Nandor’s Hotmail account. He leaned forward to read the open message, unsure what to expect. The blood drained from his face as he read.

from: rap4unlyfe@sassycat.com

cc:  devious@sassycat.com; nandortherelentless@hotmail.com; travelbug54@aol.com ...

subject: rofl bahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahah

yooooooooooooooooOO!

Has ne1 else seen there familiars on this site??? I hypnotized mine last nite to give me his phone password and...👀 

Mierda. There were two screenshots attached. One was the survey results page from the “best hair” poll. The other was an excerpt from the chat, specifically Guillermo posting the winner of the poll and the link to the results. 

Guillermo’s face fell into an adorably distressed frown. He darted a glance at Nandor but the vampire just looked confused. It wasn’t clear if he yet suspected that his own familiar might be “Gigi the great.”

“Huh…” Guillermo leaned back and smoothed his expression into one of untroubled amusement. “You’re right, looks like fake news. You should probably just ignore it.”

Nandor punched his fist into his thigh and snapped, “But Guillermo! I cannot let this go unanswered! This...this...ludicrous insult! Imagine...me losing a hair contest. Everyone knows I have the most beautiful hair!”

Guillermo blushed magnificently, “Of course, master! This is just...a prank. Someone playing a mean trick on you. You shouldn’t give them the satisfaction--”

The laptop chimed. Guillermo dove to prevent Nandor from reaching it but the vampire simply slapped him away with a petulant whine, “Give me that! Fucking guy…”

Nandor’s lips curled into a snarl as his eyes scanned over the screen. 

“Oh, no! Now they are making a mockery of me on the ether net!”

from: devious@sassycat.com 

cc: nandortherelentless@hotmail.com; travelbug54@aol.com; rap4unlyfe@sassycat.com… 

subject: RE: rofl bahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahah

Oh! That is too delicious! Suck it, Houston and Nandor! 

It gets even better. Have you seen this, yet?

vamp_hot_list.doc 

“Guillermo, what is a hot list?” Nandor asked with a worried frown, clicking on the attachment. 

“No, master! Don’t--”

It was too late. He watched as his master’s eyes lit with understanding and then intrigue and finally outrage.

“29?! I am number 29 on your dirty hot vampire list!? What is the meaning of this?” Nandor bristled like an angry porcupine, his eyes shooting metaphorical quills into Guillermo’s soft flesh.

“It’s not my list, master!” he insisted and then, guiltily, “Not only mine…”

“Guillermo!” Nandor gasped, his eyes returning to the screen for a moment before pinning him with outraged accusation. “So, it is you!? You are...Gigi the great? Well, I do not think you are so great, little guy! In fact I think you’re pretty un-great right now! And disrespectful!”

Guillermo sank into the couch cushions, melting under his master’s ire and replying miserably, “It’s not as bad as it looks!”

Nandor turned back to the screen and began reading off names from the top of the list, “Viago! Nancy the Relentless! Evan! I suppose these are all vampires you’ve been dreaming of doing the hanky panky with! Putting them on the top of your list above your own master! That’s two demerits, Guillermo!”

“What!? No! Master, I didn’t make the list! We vote on it! Everyone gets a say. If I made the list of course you’d be at the top--”

Guillermo snapped his mouth shut. His face was on fire and he felt like crying. Nandor must have some inkling of his crush, right? After ten years of service? This couldn’t really be the life-ending mortification that it felt like. He waited, wide-eyed, for his master’s reaction. Nandor stared at him, his huge, dark eyes filled with shock and anger. After a long minute he turned back to the laptop, waving a hand dismissively in Guillermo’s face.

“Go to your room now, Guillermo! I need to think of how to punish this impertinence!”

Guillermo stood, barely holding in humiliated tears. He gestured to the device in Nandor’s lap, “My laptop…”

Nandor held it out of Guillermo’s reach and hissed, “No! Vampire only computer time, Guillermo!”

Guillermo left, trudging out of the room with a sinking feeling in his stomach as the sound of Nandor’s flop-wristed typing followed him out the door.

---

#main

Gigi the great: Is everyone okay?

call-me-karen: not fukcing great!

Imurdad | colby: Seriously! WTF!!?

Gigi the great is typing…

Guillermo lay on his little cot with the crocheted blanket his amá made for him pulled up to his chin. Tears streaked down his cheeks and the phone’s glare reflected in his glasses. He thought back to every off handed complaint, every silly photo turned into a “master-shaming” meme, every confession, every joke. All of them laid bare to the world. The Discord server started out as goofy, harmless fun. The hot list was the perfect embodiment of that. But it became so much more. Being a familiar could be lonely. You were isolated from other humans and surrounded by cold, uncaring monsters all the time. Guillermo loved Nandor. Everyone knew this...there were even memes about it on the server! But sometimes his master’s aloofness got to be too much and he needed to reach out to other humans who understood him! 

He threw his phone down onto the mattress, angrily pawing at his teary eyes and wondering if this was it. Not just the end of NYC Familiar Chat, but the end of Guillermo the Great, his long-dreamed-of vampire alias. There was no way Nandor would keep him as a familiar after this…

---

Direct Messages

Celeste-is-Best: OMG! Guillermo, have you seen this?

Celeste-is-Best: http://familiar-hot-list.colinrobinson.net

Celeste-is-Best: hey, if this is Nandor’s big revenge scheme I think you’re going to be ok

Celeste-is-Best: we miss you! 

---

Guillermo heard his master calling him and cringed. It had been a week since the hot list incident and Nandor had spent every waking moment making little jabs at his familiar and grousing about how he’d been betrayed on the internet. But to Guillermo’s surprisingly intense relief, he hadn’t been fired. After ten years of disappointment and hopeless pining, Guillermo half-expected to welcome the prospect of finally being put out of his misery, so to speak. He was kind of shocked, therefore, to feel happiness and gratitude that his master had decided to keep him around, even if only as a verbal punching bag.

He found Nandor in the library, smugly brandishing the purloined laptop. 

“Come have a look at your punishment, Guillermo,” Nandor patted the couch beside him. “This is what happens when you disrespect vampires on the ether net.”

Guillermo swallowed the lump in his throat and collapsed beside Nandor feeling like a man condemned. Their thighs pressed together but for once Nandor didn’t move away. He shoved the laptop at Guillermo and handed him a yellow sticky note with Colin Robinson’s handwriting on it.

“Colin Robinson has assisted in creating a webpage for your disgrace. We have done our own hot list! A familiar hot list. All of the New York vampires voted. So, now you can see how not nice it feels to have your hotness besmirched for all the world to see.”

Guillermo typed in the URL and blinked as the neon green background scorched his retinas. The page was a hideous callback to the internet of the late 1990s right down to the hit counter at the bottom. There was a border of pixelated dancing Draculas surrounding bright orange text.

NYC Familiar Hotness Ranking

1. Guillermo (Nandor the Relentless) - 19%

Guillermo looked at the screen, then over at Nandor, then back to the screen again.

“Master? Have you looked at the results yet?”

Nandor’s brow knit with confusion, “No, why? What does it say?”

He grabbed the laptop and squinted against the garish colors. Guillermo watched Nandor’s face carefully as he read the results. He looked surprised and almost...pleased at first, before giving in to his patented aggravation.

“Fucking Colin Robinson!”

---

New NYC Familiars Group! #welcome

Imurdad | colby: Hey @everyone! Welcome to the new Discord server. Guillermo has stepped down as a mod but he’ll still be around. We don’t have a perfect solution for the security problems we had with the last server. We’re asking everyone to be vigilant about hypnosis and if you feel like you’re losing time, please be sure to secure your phones/computers away from your masters….

---

to: nandortherelentless@hotmail.com

from: travelbug54@aol.com

subject: Something you might want to see…

Hey Nandoorman! How’s it hangin’?  

Listen, I’m sorry that your revenge didn’t go as planned. I noticed you’ve been a little short with Gizmo ever since this whole thing started. As someone who cares about my roomie, I want to advise you to knock it the hell off. Also, I don’t relish the thought of returning to the days before Gizmo came along. Do you even remember what the house used to look like? Pools of blood everywhere. Dead bodies. Melted candles all over the place...

I digress… I managed to snag this screenshot from Count Rapula. I think you may find it interesting.

Your pal,

Colin Robinson 

discord_gizmo.jpg

#confessions

Gigithegreat: Hey guys. This isn’t easy for me to share but I know I’m not the only one who’s dealt with this and if I can help one of you feel less alone then I’ll be glad. As most of you know, I recently “celebrated” my 10th anniversary as Nandor’s familiar. I was convinced, absolutely convinced, that my master was going to make me into a vampire. Well, once again it didn’t happen. He made me this weird portrait out of glitter instead. And the thing is...like, I should leave, right? He’s never going to turn me and that’s the basis for our whole arrangement. I serve him faithfully, he turns me into a vampire. It’s simple, right? So why am I still here? Why am I still burying bodies for him and making human sacrifices? Dressing and feeding him? Treating him like he’s some kind of god and not an ancient cranky baby?  It’s because I’m in love with him. Hopelessly, stupidly, self-destructively in love with my vampire master who thinks of me as nothing more than a really well-trained poodle who can talk. Why? WHY? Because he makes me laugh. Because he’s fiercely protective of his vampire family and (sometimes) that includes me. Because when we’re alone he can be so adorably, painfully vulnerable and it feels like a privilege that I get to witness that side of him. Because he does ridiculously stupid but considerate things like spending hours making me a glitter portrait. When he’s happy with me I feel like I could float and when he’s disappointed I feel like being swallowed up by a sinkhole. And, yeah, he’s also man-of-my-dreams outrageously hot and I cannot believe you cretins have him ranked #29 on the hot list. It’s a crime. 

Gigithegreat: So, yeah. That’s why I stay. I’m no longer hoping for a bite that will never happen. Now it’s a kiss, a hug, a touch, a look. Anything he’s willing to give me I’ll gladly hoard in my little closet-room along with my glitter portrait. Because I’m pathetic. That’s it. That’s the confession.

Imurdad | colby: Brave words, Guillermo. Hang in there, friend.

blood_princess: this is a mood

sam teh pretty: Sending you healing head scritches ❤️

Celeste-is-Best: look, i think i speak for us all when i say we need to see this glitter portrait!!!

[You’re Viewing Older Messages … Jump To Present? ￬]

---

Nandor looked uncharacteristically thoughtful while Guillermo readied him for sleep. The familiar guessed he was still angry that his little revenge plot had backfired. He couldn’t help but feel a little smug about his position as the hottest NYC familiar. Even if he was pretty sure it was mostly due to the other vampires messing with Nandor. Guillermo couldn’t really enjoy his victory, though, not with Nandor’s feelings of betrayal still weighing on his heart.

Nandor’s face was a stoic mask as Guillermo helped him undress. He cooperated listlessly, picking up his feet for Guillermo to remove his heavy boots, lifting his arms up over his head as Guillermo took off his brocade tunic. Finally, he placed his giant hand in Guillermo’s soft, small one and stepped up into his coffin. Guillermo stood by the side of the coffin as he always did, watching over Nandor with affection choking his throat. Nandor smoothed his hair down and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Sweet dreams, master,” Guillermo whispered, leaning across him to catch the lid of the coffin.

“Wait, Guillermo,” Nandor spoke without looking at him, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I wish to say something to you.”

Guillermo’s heart sank in his chest. Oh no...his stupid middle schooler revenge didn’t work and now he’s going to send me away… Tears pricked his eyes and he choked, “C-can’t it wait until tomorrow, master?”

“No. I must say this now,” Nandor responded, oblivious to his familiar’s internal drama. “I want to say to you that--and I think I’m being extremely gracious and lenient here--it is fine for you to have your little, pathetic familiar group on the dark internet.”

“O-oh,” Guillermo quickly swiped the tears from his eyes, “thank you, master…”

“But no more mee-mees, Guillermo! Master-shaming...very disrespectful!”

“Of course!” Guillermo laughed, delirious with relief. 

Nandor looked up at him with a final warning glance before softening, “Alright, then. As long as we are clear on that…”

There was a long beat of silence during which Guillermo found himself locked inside his master’s gaze. Nandor’s eyes were like pools of rich, melted chocolate. Guillermo imagined himself as the German kid from Willy Wonka and for a second he was in danger of breaking down into giggles. But then his master spoke in that soft, uncertain tone he only used when they were alone and he was feeling fragile.

“Guillermo...did you really vote for me to be the number one hottest vampire?” Nandor toyed with the buttons on his shirt and looked up at his familiar with a shy, open expression.

Guillermo’s cheeks burned and he wanted to laugh and hide and kiss his master on the mouth all at once.

“Yes, master, I did. You’re…” he cleared his throat and tightened his grip on the lip of the coffin, “so handsome, master. So beautiful...”

He watched his master’s chest expand with pride and his lips twitch into a haughty smirk. 

“That’s true, Guillermo. Good job for noticing,” Nandor praised him in a voice that was a little too loud. It rang with a false sense of self-assurance. After a few seconds he went on in a quieter tone, “Do you know, I--this is very silly, Guillermo, you mustn't tell anyone this--I voted for you, too. As the hottest familiar…”

Guillermo’s stomach did a little swoop and his lips curved into a blinding smile. His dumb, beautiful master thought he was attractive? Guillermo tried to reel himself in; he tried to remind himself that Nandor probably only voted for him to boost his own reputation. But--wait?--hadn’t the list been meant as a revenge against Guillermo? God, what a handsome idiot.

“Thank you, master,” Guillermo gushed and now he was certain that Nandor’s eyes strayed too long on his smiling lips and red, dimpled cheeks. 

“Alright then!” Nandor pulled the emergency break on the moment. “Time for my evil slumber. Night night, Guillermo!”

And in a slow motion moment that would feature in Guillermo’s dreams that night, Nandor reached up and put his hand over his. Nandor’s cool, smooth palm rubbed over the back of Guillermo’s warm hand and his fingers squeezed slightly. The breath rushed from Guillermo’s lungs and he could only squeak in reply, shutting his master into his coffin and moving away with a dazed smile on his face.

A muffled sound came from the coffin just as Guillermo reached the door to the crypt.

“...And I don’t think of you as a poodle…”

“What was that, master?” Guillermo called.

“Nothing, Guillermo!”

Guillermo shuffled off to his little room feeling like he was carrying a happy little flame inside his chest. For once he gave himself permission to hope without fearing disappointment.

---

New NYC Familiars Group! #thirsty

Celest-is-Best: SORRY NOT SORRY!!!! Simon can get it…

blood_princess: ummmm thirst after your own master, Celeste. Oops sorry she’s 12.

mish-bish: Lmaooo. Gross Celeste!

Celeste-is-Best: listen.

Celeste-is-Best: ...i got nothin. I want his evil dick.

…

Gigi the great: Please look respectfully at this photo I snuck of my master the other night. Do I really need to explain myself further???

Celeste-is-Best: that’s it. guillermo, ask nandor if he needs another familiar. my body is ready!

Gigi the great: Back off, bitch!!!!

Gigi the great: jk love u

Gigi the great: but srsly back off

#master-shaming

mish-bish: submitted without comment

[Imurdad | colby, Gigi the great, Sam teh Cat, and 6 others like this]

...

Gigi the great: 🙄🙄🙄

Gigi the great: I hate him I love him

#main

black-peterrr: ohohoho, has anyone talked to Guillermo lately…..?

black-peterrr: a little raven told me he and Nandor were seen HOLDING HANDS in the park the other night…

call-me-karen: WHATTTTTTTT

Celeste-is-Best: @Gigi the great, CONFIRM OR DENY!! GIIIIIGIIII!

Gigi the great: ……...I don’t kiss and tell 😉

Imurdad | colby pinned a post

Imurdad | colby: This is momentous.

#memes

Gigi the great: hot take…

Imurdad | colby: bahahaha, okay…

Imurdad | colby: 

Gigi the great: But have you considered…

Imurdad | colby: lol compelling

Call-me-karen: I mean…..👀

Celeste-is-Best: Ha...ha...ha…*sob*

Direct Messages

Celeste-is-Best: Gigi! we miss you! ur never online lately... 

Celeste-is-Best: too busy getting that ottoman empire dick, huhhh??

Gigi the great: OMG Celeste! You’re out of control!

Celeste-is-Best: that wasn’t a denial…

#main

Gigi the great: Hey guys...sorry I haven’t been active lately

Gigi the great: Quick update though....

GIgi the great:

blood_princess: OSDFJweoiflkdfaf omgggggg gggggiiiiiiigiigigig!!!!!!

Jameson: Holy shit, man. Congrats.

Celeste-is-Best: GuillerrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmooooooOooooO!O my baby! you look amazing!

call-me-karen: DO YOU NEED A FAMILIAR!!?!?!?!?

Celeste-is-Best: jesus, karen lol

blood_princess: my master is having an orgy right now. I just locked myself in the bathroom--I’M FREAKING OUT!! What is it like? IS that blood on your collar??? OMG how was ur first feeding?

Imurdad | colby: FAMILIARS ONLY, GUILLERMO!!

Imurdad | colby: I’m kidding. OMG I’m so happy for you! (And burning with jealous rage)

Celeste-is-Best: look how fucking happy Nandor is

Celeste-is-Best: i’ve been shipping you two from the beginning, Gigi!

Celeste-is-Best: …..hope you’re not going to forget who helped you out with those virgins last month…

---

“Guillermo!” Nandor’s voice was half whine, half growl. “It’s very difficult to sleep with that light filling the coffin! What are you doing anyway?”

The screen illuminated Guillermo’s grin as he answered, “Just posted that selfie we took to the familiar chat. They’re freaking out.”

Nandor turned onto his side, nuzzling his face into Guillermo’s neck and tickling him with his beard, “That’s nice. Sleepy time now, Guillermo.” 

“Yes, master,” Guillermo breathed and Nandor purred low in his chest. Some things had changed since becoming a vampire and others had stayed the same. Calling Nandor “master” had taken on a new, thrilling subtext.

Nandor’s arms snaked around Guillermo, tugging the smaller vampire into his chest. He let out a contented sigh and his body went still as he began to fall asleep.

“I guess I should probably leave the group,” Guillermo yawned--force of habit. “Since I’m not a familiar anymore.”

Nandor wrenched himself from sleep with the power of his own petulance, “Hey! What do you mean ‘not a familiar anymore’? Just because a guy gives his boyfriend the gift of eternal life he thinks he can quit being his familiar!? Who’s going to brush my hair?! ‘Not a familiar anymore’...fucking guy…”

[mirovoi1]

REFLECTIONS OF A JAILBIRD

It can be quite hard to force myself to concentrate on writing when myriad distractions abound: I have the internet, snacks at hand, and a curious mind that prefers wandering than getting stuck into the arduous task of gathering my thoughts and organising them into one structured essay.

What is worse is that there are also myriad birds outside my windows that are eager to show off how free they are - while it is me that is cooped up inside an aviary. And this has been my daily life for months already here, in the middle of Istanbul.

The world has surely been turned upside down.

And my state of being has now too.

Have you ever been to prison without being involved in a crime?

The laws of lockdown have worked; they have successfully restricting my body to the house, but it has also set loose thoughts and emotion; and the things that stir inside an idle being.

In fact, I am usually the opposite: a busy body with a braindead head – not a rioting soul in a dead body.

Thus, has been a rare chance to engage in some very unique, albeit testing, self-reflection and what I have observed is that my own mind is actually hell-bent on getting away from me.

Out of due respect for public health, I have not really been anywhere for a full three months. And during this home-sentence, I have been battling with another prison: a mental prison consisting of high walls that forbid me from doing any proper constructive written work.

The summer warmth has arrived in Istanbul; finally replacing the long, wet winter - the heat and sunlight have come and replenished the empty hole that is known as ‘lockdown’. This is a very good change in events. Weather does alter one’s mood.

The uplifting summer-scented air has called me to begin writing down a few notes to share with you all. Although, however lovely days of sunshine and birdsong may be, it seems my newly-found prison-life has offered some useful (and dire) insight into how many lives are lived.

*

Morning after morning after morning, I wake up in the same fashion, with the sound of pigeons outside my bedroom window. They sit there and mumble the same stuff at each other. I get up for a coffee. The sparrows chirp like mad in the big leafy trees from morning till dusk and I am always here to hear it. Now that all forms of unnatural noise have subsided over the past weeks, the world has revealed that there are even chickens living on the banks of in front of the apartments opposite me.

Who would think chickens exist in a city of fifteen million people? Well, I believe it. It is hard not to believe it when their bleating is sometimes all that is left over now that cars and engines sounds have left the room. Right now, it is a bird’s world and I feel as if I am the only living creature that sits around stagnating all day.

Those birds are busy with their lives and I am the one who is sat in the bird cage waiting for some sort of seeds to appear in my bowl.

*

During my lifetime, I have always wondered how come old people so often tend to be miserable.

I was confused as to why oldies were always angry when kids’ balls come over their fence. I thought that old people should know that life goes along better when the world is a tolerant and friendly place - after all, judging by their bent posture and wrinkly skin, it could be safe to say that they have been around for a bit and should be aware of the tricks of the trade.

The world over, I have been yelled at by grumpy old people – usually for noise or some other form of unruliness. But my anticipation for some eventual grey-haired wisdom to save the day always fell through as they most often would revert back to their own form of unruliness – that being their decrepit emotional composure in the face of something minor.

I always liked to imagine that someday, I will become the seemingly only old man in the world who is patient, kind and unconcerned with little things that are of no apparent bother. I thought I would be the kindest granddad who would come out of his house, and instead of shouting with a stick in hand, he would come with a packet of chocolate biscuits and tell the kids just how great they are doing with their soccer skills.

But now I get it.

A silent, idle life, void of real things to do and people to talk to just makes people become dank. Now I understand. A rattle in the refrigerator has the power to really piss people off. I never knew of that rattle when my life extended beyond these four walls.

In a tiny little world, tiny little things just appear so big.

Now I realise, I too, in the future, am capable of becoming an angry old man.

*

In Istanbul you often have company from giant seagulls which are a key part of the infrastructure of this giant port city. Istanbulites love to feed animals, and these massive birds easily get their beaks into heavy pieces of stale bread. They do not want to share their findings with others and so they fly onto the rooftops and drop it, hack at it and throw it around in order to break it into smaller, edible size pieces.

I live on the top-floor and often have to deal with them stomping around on my roof. I have a rooftop sky-window that I can open up and be part of the goings on up there, but they are too busy to care. They are very happy. I am not though, and I give them the evil stare from under the window pane. And, again, they are too busy being happy to care.

*

May is the month of Ramadan and at times some very rhythmic Anatolian music seeps out from behind some bushes somewhere near where those chickens live. There is also drumming at 2am each night. Sometimes I hang myself out the fifth-floor window to try to get a piece of the vibe. I always found the concept of music to be extremely fascinating. Music is such a human thing.

I admit I have felt a bit self-conscious before dancing in front of other people, but I have to say that I feel downright embarrassed doing so in front of animals. So, I don’t. I am sure animals understand the pleasure in moving around and having fun, but the style we do it in… well, I don’t know about that. We must look absolutely ridiculous. But it is Ramadan, and it is a time for celebration.

There is a family of crows that lives in a branch – rent-free – just opposite my biggest windows in the lounge area. I enviously watch them coming and going, and taking turns at sitting on their babies. They screech and caw, as I do when I think I am singing.

As I hum along to these sudden outbreaks of traditional folk tunes, I wonder why we humans feel the need to offer a bit of our own noise to an otherwise good-enough piece of music. We also like to move our bodies along with to the beat, as if that was called for. If you can get past your own two feet, that is, then this timely shuffling is generally known as ‘dancing’.

So, it seems that adding some singing, some lyrics, and well, ultimately some sort of mouth and body movement to the music, it just makes it all come alive.

*

We humans make order of our thoughts through speech. We navigate our world through the use of the mouth; through words; through language, through lyrics, through conversation, through stories, constantly feeling the need to incessantly release some form of mouth-made noise with/to/towards/at other people: we engage in civil, amicable chitter-chatter; we emit our oral vibrations out of rage at poor kids who have lost their ball over the fence, we thrust our noises into the music as we groove along in tow…

…and somehow this makes us feel better about the world.

I can honestly say I am utterly embarrassed to be a human. But, the innate, instinctive need for talk and movement dictates our psyche. The necessity for social interaction with other people and physical interaction with our environment is indisputable. This is the source of a large part of our health. And without it, well…

We humans are a group mammal after all – perhaps more so than the feathered ‘free-folk’ outside that even feel free enough to crap all over my windowsills. But it is obvious: being around people and engaging in meaningful conversation regulates our mood and emotions so that we can avoid entering the otherwise guaranteed free-fall to hell…

…where a lot of us are right now.

All of this has now become starkly clear as I sit in here doing the opposite of what a healthy person does. All the animals accentuate the fact that they can get more done in life now that us human-beings have ceased to be part of the furniture; and we are not around anymore to bother them. Unless I decide to dance behind the glass or something - and that could bother a soul or two.

I mean, if you have to be a human being, then you also have to know how to meet a human being’s needs. That is not to say I dance, but it does mean one needs to be able to think well, speak properly, and move more.

This may seem obvious and straightforward, but I can assure you… it is not.

Just as one may think six months at home would be heaven, and when it comes around you realise it is actually a nightmare. Human beings may sit around in their homes dressed in clothes with their fancy gadgets, but can assure you, we do not always really understand what it is that we need. Nor do we properly see things for what they are…

A lot of us have never learnt to think, nor learnt to move, nor learnt to speak. Properly, that is.

*

Over the years, I have had a number of students who could fall under the category of ‘depressed’; or ‘hell-bound’ would be a better way to put it.

There is a thing called clinical depression, but this dispiritedness is often just simply an environmental, psychological, physiological or sociological inadequacy or imbalance. Sort of like a form of vitamin deficiency that comes good again with the right adjustments.

That is basically to say… yes, as it seems, a lot of melancholy folk typically seem to lead a full-time lifestyle of lockdown.

Try that! What a bloody existence…

I have observed many teenagers of mine who regularly take part in physical activity in their daily lives, be it sports or dance, are generally much more mentally and emotionally healthy – not to mention physically so. They tend to hold onto less negative energy and have a lighter, bouncier kick in their way of being.

Those that have good social, conversational and inter-personal skills tend to have these similar healthy characteristics. In short, those that are well-equipped to meet their simple human needs fare well in the world.

But this species of well-equipped kid is actually depressingly rare. A huge number of adults do not qualify either. That has frustrated me for a long time.

*

Normally at this time of year, I would be busy preparing for the summer holidays for when my students and I hit the long road with our backpacks on.

This year, that is not going to happen though, which is a pity because we were planning for some very exotic locations (Cuba, Madagascar…). And it is also a pity for some of my students that are, and/or have always been full-time-lockdown-lifestylists who would greatly benefit again from a couple of weeks-long de-shackling from the mundane.

However, this virus has offered me a very unique opportunity:

With the ditching of my passport and car-keys and the forgoing of my usual travel-lifestyle, I now get the chance to exist on this great planet in another fascinating way…

By being in prison, experiencing the psychological state of depressed prisoners, getting to know and understand the inner-world of many of my students, rehearsing for when I am old, and getting to write about it all.

More unfortunate is getting to brush up on my knowledge about myriad aspects of birdlife and how damning similar it is to ours. Even more unfortunate than that is the succumbing to the fact that I am capable of using words like ‘myriad’ myriad times in a six and a half page-long essay…

13 May 2020

(Period of lockdown from Covid-19)

(Some Photos from Around My Place in Istanbul)

[benx101cool]

An idea for a story that I was thinking of trying to make. The Internet Escapades. Chapter 1: The Beginning.

   The day started out like any other day after the first day of summer. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the keys were clicking away on the computers of Nick, Antonio, and Ben. The three of them were friends since they first met in elementary school and they all shared one thing in common. They loved spending time on the internet. Something about the sheer vastness of information combined with the ability to do almost anything seemed so alluring to the trio. 

   Antonio was the typical smart kid who loved math. He spent most of his time online looking at prices of collectibles and seeing how much they were worth as well as using the information to determine trends and interests. Nick was not like Antonio as he preferred action to numbers. He played RPGs and first person shooter games while learning other players moves. Then there was Ben who was neither a smart number cruncher nor a predicting man. He spent his time browsing the web looking at anything that was cool or neat to watch, play, or create. When he wasn’t doing that, he was playing a game that allowed the user to create almost anything out of blocks. This was the game that the three of them spent most of their time on. The three of them spent their time creating their own town in the game. Antonio was in charge of designing the layout, Nick was in charge of gathering materials and fighting any monsters that would appear, and Ben was the person who built anything that would be in the city. 

   The day started out like any other day, they all met at the local library and spent most of their day their, then gathered their belongings and walked back to Ben’s house. “Hey guys,” Nick said, “I wanted to show you something that I found while exploring a dungeon yesterday.” 

    “What is it?” said Ben.

“Nick pulled out a notebook and gave it to Antonio and Nick. The two of them opened it up and looked through the pages as they kept walking down the sidewalk. Inside was lines of different words and numbers lined up to be set up as code. 

“What the heck is this man?” Antonio asked, “you found code just lying around in the game? How? That shouldn’t even be possible with how spawning items works.”

“I don’t know man,” Nick said, “but all I know is that the book said to type the code into three different creation blocks by three different users as well as being put into a code engine on three different computers. Then activate all three at the same time.”

“Dude this sounds like bull, what did the book even say what the code would do. For all we know, this code just corrupts  our world and deletes system thirty-two on our laptops.” said Ben.

“It’s supposed to allow us to view things in the game that wouldn’t be viewable before.” Nick said.

Antonio and Ben looked at each other and then back to Nick. The whole thing seemed too good to be true and the three of them hadn’t done a lot of code besides implementing inventory recovery and duplication glitches.

“Come on guys, just this once. We’ll use some old laptops that my dad has stored in the attic in case anything happens to them.” Nick said. 

“Oh, okay.” the two of them said, “just this once.”

“Alright! Your place Ben? I’ll bring the laptops.”

“Yeah. And lets do this outside on the patio in the back.”

So the three of them separated and went home. Nick collected the three laptops, Antonio read over the code, while Ben prepared the patio for the night. 

Once the three of them were together, the three of them pulled open the game and a coding engine on the spare laptops. They then began to input the code into the creation blocks while also typing it into the engine. 

As the night grew on, the three of them grew increasingly tired, there was no amount of sugary energy drinks that would be able to keep them awake. They kept imputing the code until the three of them typed the last key.

“Alright. On the count of three,” Ben said, “one,two,three!” 

At that moment, they each pressed the enter key on their laptops activating the creation blocks and the code engines. For a few moments, the only sound they heard was from the sound of crickets and the hum of the computers. 

“Well that sucks. Are you sure you two entered it correctly?” Antonio asked.

“Yes I’m sure. I’m not an idiot.” 

“Well, I’m just saying that normally something would happen in the game.”

At that moment, the three screens froze and turned black. It had seemed that the code had crashed the laptops rendering them off. 

“Great. Just great, Look what you made us do Nick.” Ben said.

“Hey! We all agreed to do it and relax, at least it was on a spare and not your main.”

“Yeah, but--” 

He couldn’t finish his sentence as at that moment, the three computers lit up with a blue light. They then began to vibrate uncontrollably and make noise. 

“Get them off the table or it’ll wake my family.” Ben whispered. 

“What the hell is happening.” Nick and Antonio said as they pushed the laptops off the table into the grass. The laptops kept moving after the boys did this, but they also started turning in a circle and faced inward. Light moved out of the screens and collected between the three of them. After a couple of seconds, it shot into the sky. The clouds circled the beam of energy. The laptops circled faster and faster. 

“WHAT THE HELL HAD YOU FOUND IN THAT MINE NICK!” Ben yelled, “WHAT THE HECK IS HAPPENING!”

“I DON’T KNOW! I JUST THOUGHT IT MEANT WE COULD USE X-RAY PROGRAMS!” Nick said, “I’M SORRY!”

At that moment, a voice echoed across the yard, it was shrill and weak, but still boomed with power.

“At last, now the time is at hand, the plan can go into effect!.” 

The voice let out a maniacal laugh, the storm got wilder and the winds got faster. 

“Who was that?” Ben said, “what plan?”

“I don’t know! But I know for a fact that a laptop isn’t supposed to rip a hole in the sky.” Nick said, “We need to end this!’

He picked up a cinder block that was nearby and pushed his way through the wind to the laptops. He lifted the block over his head, but before he could drop it, the voice spoke again.

“Not on my watch! I will be released from my prison and there is nothing you foolish flesh-bags can do to stop me!”

A bolt of blue lightning shot off the central column and collided with Nick throwing him back. 

“NICK!” Antonio and Ben yelled in unison. The two of them rushed over to his side as the block fell to his side. Nick was jerking back and forth, his eyes darting back and forth, his hands moving rapidly. 

“Antonio, restrain him, I’m finishing this.” Ben yelled. 

He grabbed the block and walked back towards the laptops, before he could smash the computer, he swear he could see in the lighting creatures from the game moving towards him. Spiders, zombies, skeletons, dark shadow creatures, and explosive torsos. He could also hear them.

“This ends now!” he yelled as he threw down the cinder block and smashed the one computer he managed to hit. 

“NO! I will leave this prison. You will regret this mortal for I am eternal, I am power, and I will be free!” the voice screamed as it was drowned out until it was quiet. 

The laptops stopped circling and fell to the ground as the lighting shot into the sky and dissipated. After that, the only light was that of the faint glow of the lights from the porch and the faint sounds of bugs crawling through the grass. 

Ben rushed back over to Nick who seemed to have recovered. Antonio was sitting next to him with his hands cupped by his face looking like he was pondering something. Ben fell to the ground and the three of them sat there breathing heavily until morning. 

Across the ocean in England, in a lone room filled with monitors, a man sat in a chair viewing the events that had just occurred. He looked on watching the storm happen, the boys destroy the laptops, and then stop it. He then paused, rewound the video, and looked at the frame that showed right before Ben has destroyed the laptop. The mans eyes widened and filled with a mixture of fear and hope. 

He turned around and opened a tab, he started typing the names of the three boys involved in the incident that tore a hole between the world and the world he had created. 

[talpup]

Erase the Shadow:2

Please remember, this fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027552/chapters/52640275

2.1

Hizashi had been working at Hero Radio, doing various jobs, since his second year at UA.  So, when he had finally gotten his own show fourteen months and twenty-one days ago.  Yes, he counted.  He had been Plus Ultra thrilled.

He loved his show and took great pride in how quickly it was gaining popularity.

He had never not wanted to go in and do his show.  Nor had he ever been tempted to do a prerecording.  ‘Put Your Hands Up’ was his love. It was his baby.  It meant the world to him.  And he would gladly miss out on anything if he had a show to do.  Or so he had thought.

It was early Saturday morning and Hizashi was on a bullet train back to the town he had visited last weekend.

He had made it through the week and his long radio show; though it had killed him not to take a half day at school, skip out on his show, and meet Teris for dinner Friday night.

As soon as the On Air light had shut off for the last time, Hizashi had rushed out of the studio.  He hadn’t even bothered to go back to his apartment for the packed bag he forgotten to take with him Friday morning.  He had money.  He could buy toiletries and clothes.  What he couldn’t buy was time.

Stepping off the train, Hizashi looked at the time on his phone.  It was early.  Though the barely rising sun could have told him that.

He wondered if Teris would even be awake.

Like Shouta, she was an underground hero who did night patrols.  So, depending on how her patrol went, it was possible that she might just be getting home.

Still, just being in the same town as her, Hizashi felt relaxed.  Giddy. Excited.  But at ease.

He walked in the general direction of her apartment and got the idea to buy what he needed for the weekend.  It would kill some time while he waited for a more suitable hour to pay Teris call.

Thankfully, he found a twenty-four hour convenience store that had basically everything he needed.  So what if the tee shirt was some cheap, cheesy tourist thing that had a skyline of the city and All Might saying ‘I am here!  To view the sights!’.  He owned worse.  He would just have to wash, or buy pants and underwear later.

An hour and a half later, he sent Teris a text.

Hizashi: ‘What do you say to breakfast instead of dinner?’

It took Teris a few minutes to respond; and Hizashi grew increasingly nervous as the seconds ticked by.  Finally, his phone dinged.

Teris: ‘Sure.  When and where?’

Hizashi grinned at his phone.

Making sure not to drop or spill anything, he quickly pocketed the device and knocked a little tune on Teris’ door.

As soon as the door was opened, Hizashi gave her his best smile.  “How about here and now?”

“Yamada!”

Hizashi's smile fell slightly.  “I told you back in UA to call me Hizashi. That hasn’t changed.”

Her surprise wearing off, Teris’ brow smoothed, replaced by a smile.

She shook her head and released a breath.  “Still the same ol’ Zashi. Come on in.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”  Hizashi said, kicking the door closed behind him.

Teris made her way toward the back of the apartment.  “Being full of surprises is one of the things I always liked about you.”

“I hope there was more than one thing you liked about me.”  Hizashi played.

“Flirt. Go on and set us up while I change into some proper clothes.”

“Friends don’t need to stand on propriety.”  Hizashi said, admiring the way her short robe clung to her hips and ass.

“Why don’t we save the impropriety for after dinner.”  She laughed, closing the bedroom door behind her.

He had just finished setting the table, when he heard Teris exit the bedroom.

Gesturing to the table, he gave a small bow.  “Dinner is served.”

Teris felt her cheeks heat and cursed herself for tying her hair back.

“Zashi. I thought you wanted to reconnect, not just get in my pants.”

“Yeah! I do!  I mean.  I totally wanna reconnect.  But… That doesn’t mean we can’t connect in other ways too.”

She laughed, pulling out a chair.  “Do those lines usually work?”

“Don’t know.”  Hizashi shrugged, taking a seat.  “You’ll have to let me know.”

2.2

Hizashi and Teris spent the day together.  After breakfast, they had gone for a long walk at a nearby park, then visited her favorite cat cafe. Hizashi had previously done an internet search for some good, hole in the wall music stores.  And being a music lover herself, Teris had happily suggested that they visit all of them.  Damn, he loved this woman.

They had dined at an American restaurant Teris knew about and was sure Hizashi would love.  After dinner, they had taken another long walk. Apparently, a very long walk as it was nearing midnight and they were only just now returning to her apartment.

“Well, today was really fun.”  Hizashi smiled, eyes on her backside.

Turning the key in the lock, Teris looked over her shoulder at him.  “Don’t act like you’re not coming in.”

“Oh? Am I invited in?”

“Yeah. You gotta get your bag don’t you?”

Hizashi's winning smile faltered.  “Right.”

“Though, if you’d like to stay for a--”

“Yeah!”

Teris cringed at Hizashi's volume, smiling apologetically at her passing neighbor.

“Yamada Hizashi, if I get a noise complaint...”  She scolded lightly.

Hizashi grimaced.  “Sorry.”  He leaned against the door jam as she opened the door.  “But you might wanna apologize to your neighbors now. Cause you’ll be screaming--”

Teris pushed Hizashi inside, and turned to her wide-eyed neighbor who was unlocking their own door a few meters away.  “He means that in the dirtiest way, not a threat.”

“I think they know that, Baby.”  Hizashi called from inside.

Teris’ blush grew, reaching her ears.  Damn it.  Why was she such a dork?

Unable to even look in her neighbors direction, she quickly apologized and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.

She was met with Hizashi’s hungry lips, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close.

Pushing lightly against his chest, she pulled her head back.  “Hizashi! What are you doing?”

Arms still wrapped around her, Hizashi blinked in honest surprise.  “Did I read this wrong?  You apologized to your neighbor out there and--”

Teris smashed her lips against his, tongue diving into his mouth.  Her once pushing hands slid up his shoulders to pull him closer.

What the hell are you doing!  She thought as Hizashi tightened his hold and swirled his tongue with hers.  Shut up!  She told herself.  He’s hot and I’m horny.  He’s also one of the two guys you’ve had a thing for since UA, she reminded herself.  This isn’t some random guy you met at bar.  This Hizashi.  I told you to shut up!  You’re an idiot for not seeing how messy this could get, she warned herself. You should stop now.

As if to spite herself, Teris clumsily reached back searching.

Breathing hard, Hizashi broke the kiss.  “Whatcha need, Baby?”

“Door. Lock.”  Teris said in between nipping kisses to Hizashi's neck.

Hizashi groaned at her administrations.  Hand on the deadbolt, he snapped it shut.

“Damn, Baby.  You keep that up and I’ll be cumming in my pants.”

“You better not.  You made me a promise.”  She pulled back, eyes locking with his.  “Let’s see if you can keep it and make me scream.”

Hizashi whined, cock throbbing in his tight pants.  He needed to get out of the things.

Thankfully, Teris was already undoing his belt.

He quickly did the same with hers.

Hizashi sighed in relief when she pulled down his pants.  He stepped back, watching her push her down.

Teris stepped out of her pants and took off her shirt.

“Damn, Ris.  You’re beautiful.

“Bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Maybe. But, I’ve never meant it half as much as I do now.”

“You’ve always been a sweet talker, Zashi.  It’s one of the things that made telling you no back in UA so difficult.”

“It’s alright, Babe.  I understood.  You had it rough.  You gave up everything to be in UA’s hero course.  But you’re a pro-hero now. So,” he licked his lips, eyes raking over her, “whatcha say we make up for lost time?”

Teris nodded and stepped to him.

Hizashi pulled off his shirt and kissed her.  One hand dropped the tee, while the other wrapped around her and unclasped her bra.

Teris shrugged it off and carded her fingers through his loose, long blonde hair.  It was even softer than it looked.

She squeaked when he picked her up.

He turned and made for the back of the apartment.  “What d'ya say we take this to the bedroom.”

Wrapping her legs and arms around him, Teris kissed and sucked at his neck.

“Mark me up all you want, Babe.  I’ll wear those hickeys like a badge of honor.”

“Only cause your speaker covers them up.”  She shot back, biting and sucking harder.

“I only wear it when I’m working.”

“Yeah. Well I have no such covering so be mindful of that.”

He dropped her on the bed and pushed her back.

“Remind me.  How low does the collar of your costume go?”  He asked, latching onto a pert nipple.

Her back arched, a moan falling from her lips.

He smiled at that.  And to think he had been a bit worried that he wouldn’t be able to give her a romp that would have her coming back for more.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in costume.  Is that collar lower still?”  He asked, lips trailing down her breast to her torso.

Teris squirmed at the tickle of his mustache.

He stopped at her navel.

“Maybe here would be a good place to leave my mark.”  His hand glided up her thigh, the other plucking at the waistband of her panties.  “Then again, I don’t wanna chance people seeing it and thinking you’re unprofessional.  Perhaps I should go lower still.  Just to be doubly safe.”

“Zashi.” Teris whined, rocking her hips up against him.

His fingers rubbed at her clothed pussy, reveling in the dampness of the fabric.  Finding her already that wet and eager for him had pre-cum leaking out of his cock, dampening his own underwear.

Teris’ legs trembled, another whine sounding from her throat.

“Zashi.” She rutted against his hand.

“Yes, my Sweet?”

“Please.”

“Please what, Baby?”

She groaned, pouting.

Damn. She was so cute, Hizashi thought.  He would definitely be making up for lost time.  He hadn’t been lying when he said he had understood.  Even as a love-struck boy of sixteen, he hadn’t wanted to be the reason Teris got distracted and failed out of the hero course.  Not when he knew what she had given up to go to UA and become a hero.  But they were passed that now.

He was no longer a love-struck boy wanting to date his crush.  He was a man who had spent the day with his boyhood crush and learned that girl he had fallen for had grown up into an even better woman.  He was a man who not only wanted to date this woman, but wanted to be in a relationship with her.  A long term, exclusively him and her relationship.

“Don’t worry, Baby.  I won’t make you beg.  Just tell me you want it.”

“I want it, Zashi.”

Damn it.  She was making a fool of herself, she thought.  Well, you’re the one whose always too busy to go out and find a guy to take the edge off.  You don’t even take your time masturbating.  You just do it quickly and fall asleep.  And now, you’re laying in nothing but your panties with one of the two guys you imagine every time you masturbate.  Of course you’re gonna make a fool of yourself.  Just be grateful it’s not Shouta above you.  You’d never hear the end of it.  As if Shouta would still want me after...

“Give me hand, Babe.  Lift those pretty hips.”

Teris blinked.  She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Hizashi rise up to his knees between her legs and hook his fingers into the waistband of her panties.

She blushed, chastising herself.  What would Hizashi say if he learned you were thinking about his best friend just now?

Seeing her tinted cheeks, Hizashi cajoled  “No need to be shy.  Here. I’ll go first.”

He stripped off his briefs.

Teris stared at his proud cock.

“You like them?”  Hizashi asked, nervously.

Why was he so freaking nervous?  He was usually proud, sure, and flaunting about his piercings.

She blinking at the three Jacob’s Ladder piercings.  Did she like them? They were certainly interesting.

Her eyes lifted to his green ones.  “Your dick is pierced.”

What! What the fuck was that?  She would’ve facepalmed herself and hidden in shame if Hizashi hadn’t chuckled.

“How observant.  Yeah.  I considered doing my tongue too but was too scared.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “You got your dick pierced, but not your tongue, because you were scared?”

“Well, yeah.  Do you realize how important the tongue is when it comes to speech?  I’m the Voice Hero!  I couldn’t chance anything messing with that.”

Teris gave a small laugh.  Damn, this man was so incredibly cute.

She sat up and slid a hand around the back of his neck, tugging him closer.  “Come here.”

Hizashi happily received and returned her kiss.

He wondered if her should tell her the other reason he had feared piercing his tongue.  That it would mess with his ability to act as a human vibrator when he went down on his partners.

He smiled into the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers.  Nah.  She had said she like his surprises.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.”  He gruffed, pushing her down and pulling at her panties.

She readily lifted her hips this time, rearing back up and pulling him down with her as soon as they were gone.

“Save the playing around for next time.  I need you now, Zashi.”

Hizashi's cock bobbed against her thigh.  Fucking hell!  He loved this woman.

He swallowed, biting his tongue, least those words spill from his mouth. He was pretty sure saying something like that would be an instant killer.

“I—fuck.” He cursed softly, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his forehead against hers.  “I don’t have a condom.”

“Not even in your bag?”

Hizashi bit his lower lip and shook his head.  “I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.”

“Says the guy who started making innuendos as soon as he walked in my door.”

Hizashi pulled his head back.  “That was flirting!  That’s different.” He sighed, lowering his head and looking at the delectable twin mounds of her breasts.  “Do you have one?”

Teris scoffed.  “I don’t get around much.  And when I do, I don’t bring them home.”

Hizashi nodded.

Though disappointed that she didn’t have a condom, he was pleased she was being safe.  Even as a pro hero, Teris was still a woman living alone.  Never mind the chance that one of her hook-ups might figure out she was a pro and sell her address to a villain.

“I’m clean.”  He said.  “If you don’t trust me you can call RG, or… I could go out and--”

She tucked his hair behind his ear.  “I trust you, Zashi.  I’m clean too.  Though I have no one like Recovery Girl for you to verify--”

Her words were cut off an enthusiastic kiss.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, encouraging him to lay more of his weight on her.  She wanted to feel this man she had like and fantasized over for so long.  Though she was a little nervous about his piercings, wondering how they would feel.

“Are you ready for me, Baby?”

“Put it in, Sunshine.”

Hizashi whined.

Fuck. Was she trying to get him to cum before he got a chance to please her?

Hizashi brought his hips back and took himself to hand, running his length through her sopping cunt.  Damn.  She was so wet.

It was a huge ego boost.  Though the more sensible side of him told himself that she was probably just that horny.

After spending the day with her, talking and reconnecting, he had learned that she was still a lot like Shouta.  Taking on too much work, and rarely getting out and having fun.

He shook his head.

Where the hell had that come from?  It had been bad enough that Teris had asked about Shouta numerous times throughout their day together.  He didn’t want to bring his friend into the bedroom.  He certainly didn’t want to bring his friend into this bedroom.  If he got is way, by the end of this weekend, Teris would be his.  And if somehow she wasn’t, there was always next weekend.

The thought made him push in in one single, hard trust.  Fuck!  She was tight.

Teris clawed at his shoulders.

“Sorry. Too much?”  Hizashi asked, cursing his roughness.

“Just right.”  Teris breathed.

Well that was one questioned answered.  The piercings felt wonderful.

Lacing her fingers through his hair, she pulled him into another heated kiss.

“Fuck me, Zashi.  Make me scream.”

2.3

Shouta woke up early Sunday morning in a sad, foul mood.  He rolled over, glaring at the small swath of light that filtered in between the blackout curtains.

Shouta didn’t dream on the night of the new moon, unless Teris was asleep to share his dream.  So his short dream cycle with her last night told him that she hadn’t gotten much sleep.

It was always a disappointment when that happen; but what made it even worse this time was that he knew Hizashi had gone to see her.

Shouta pulled the pillow out from under his head and threw it over his face even though the curse he yelled was silent.

This might've seemed a little quick with Hizashi and Teris just having reconnected; but I hc Hizashi as a horndog and he definitely will be in this fic.  In Teris' defense, she really was pent up and horny.  She also always had a thing for Zashi and Shouta.  Also, I just really wanted to write a bit of light smut.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special thank you to those who have left comments or reblogged.  They really mean a lot.

As always, an extra special thank you to @inorganicone2230 who has never failed to encourage me.  I'm not kidding when I say you all are getting this fic cause of them.  This fic was my personal guilt pleasure and never would've been seeing the light of day if it weren't for them.

[eorzean-capitalist]

Domestic Violence warning.

It’s been 16 years since I left my ex-husband.  I left him on July 4th, which I still celebrate as my independence day.  

We’d gotten into a fight.  He’d left me at home, alone, and went out with his brother and his family to celebrate July 4th without me.  I was home all day, waiting for him to pick me up.  He’d promised he would, as I had just had surgery two weeks earlier and was finally well enough to get out of the house.

When he finally walked in, he was clearly drunk.  I asked him why he hadn’t come for me.  He said something unintelligible to me and then reached out, grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the keyboard on my desk.

It didn’t matter what I said.  Or if I had remained silent.  He had come home in a mean mood.  And when he wasn’t happy, he radiated that anger so it chilled the very air around me.  It built in the stereotypical way, until he finally up and abused me in some way.  He was rarely apologetic afterwards.  Sometimes he told me it was my fault.  If I’d just been better somehow, he wouldn’t act that way.  Or, he blamed his childhood.  His mother picking up and leaving his father when he was a kid.  Always an excuse as to why his abuse wasn’t really his fault.

He grabbed the car keys he’d dropped onto his desk when he walked in.  Lifting them up, dangling them, he literally sneered at me.  “I’m taking the car, spending the weekend at my brother’s house.  Let’s see how you get to work next Sunday without a car.”

This was a common occurrence during our marriage.  He’d do something to show me that he was in control.  If I dared give him lip, he’d show me.  Like the day we were driving in his stick shift car (he knew I couldn’t drive stick shifts, which is precisely why he wanted one).  We were at a stoplight.  I ‘gave him sass’ about something.  So he put the car in park, turned it off, left the keys in the ignition and got out.  I was terrified.  I can’t drive stick shifts.  There was traffic behind us.  Horns were honking as the light had turned green and our car wasn’t moving.  

He walked down the street.  Got nearly a block away as I begged and screamed for him to come back. Cars were now driving around our car, giving me dirty looks. One guy flipped me off.  My voice was hoarse when he finally decided to turn around and come back.  I was sobbing and shaking.  

“Won’t do that again, now will you.” he said.  I nodded, trying to dry my cheeks and find a kleenex in my purse to blow my nose with.

This was the brunt of our marriage.  He would do something to make me beg him to come back.  This time, he took the keys to our only vehicle and intimated I’d have no way to go to work unless I called him at his brother’s house and begged him to come home with the car.

I was somehow lucky enough that the keyboard hadn’t left an impression on my face.  It hurt, but there was no black eye, no bruises forming as my face had partially hit the padding of the keyboard rest.  Some of my hair fell out where he’d jerked it hard.

It was the last straw.  I got onto the internet, which was my one and only refuge.  I had friends there, friends he had no control over.  Friends he didn’t chase off or tell me couldn’t associate with.  I couldn’t even tell them he’d slammed my face into the keyboard.  Just that he’d gotten drunk, we had fought, and he took the car so I couldn’t get to work on Sunday night.

Two internet friends drove all the way from Boston that night.  I was a whirlwind of packing.  I didn’t have suitcases, so I put clothing into bags.  I grabbed important papers.  I packed cat food and cat litter.  Boo and Magnet knew something was up, following me from room to room in concern.

They arrived around 5 am.  I was shaking, afraid that at any moment Alex would return and there’d be an altercation with these two men who’d come to rescue me.  Once we’d hastily gathered everything up, I left the apartment we’d lived in only a few months.  I had no attachment to it, as Alex couldn’t sit still in one place for very long.  If we made it through one lease year at an apartment, it was a miracle.  I had no love for the area we lived in, either.  Compared to the golden wheat fields of Kansas, the city we lived in was grey, depressing, full of poverty and elderly people and churches on every street corner preaching fire and brimstone.

It wasn’t until we crossed the border that I felt my shoulders relax.

The last thing he said to me was sneered in anger and contempt.  That without him, I was nothing.  That he was in control.  He did these things whenever I raised a hint of independence.  Or had a thought of my own that he hadn’t given me.  I was broken after six years of this kind of treatment.  

It was a month before he finally found me.  Not physically, the girl I was staying with had an address that was ridiculous to find and this was a time before GPS or smart phones like we have today.  But he called on the phone, asking to talk to me.  Dee was reluctant but I said ok.  She sat there next to me, reached out and took my hands in hers.

He told me that he loved me so much. That he was so sorry, that he’d do whatever it took to get me back.  His voice was pitiful, sounded like he’d been crying.  He told me he was crashing on his brother’s couch, he’d been devastated to walk into our apartment and realize I was gone.

I told him I needed time to think about this.  That I couldn’t make a decision right then and there.  That was not what he wanted to hear.  The pleading tone to his voice took on another edge.  The one that always indicated tension was escalating.  My heart rate suddenly increased.  I squeezed Dee’s hand.

“I’m not going back.  I’m moving back to Kansas.  I want a divorce.”

He whined at me. Cajoled me.  Threatened me.  Finally, he begged me not to leave him.  

My last words to him were ‘Good bye, Alex.’  I never spoke to him again.  In person, or over the phone.

I called my mother.  She sent me a check for $300 to move back home.  The two guys who rescued me were, coincidentally, also moving to Kansas for a job prospect.  I hitched a ride in their U-Haul back to Kansas.  To the safety of the town I’d lived in for 10 years.  

Fast forward 16 years.  It took me awhile to climb out of the hole he’d dug for me and tossed me into unceremoniously.  Financially, sexually, emotionally, physically.  I went to therapy for awhile.  I paid back money I could, and what I couldn’t, I had to file for bankruptcy on.  Everything had been in my name, because Alex always said that he had bad credit.  Then, of course, he’d let payments lapse.  Bills weren’t to be paid, not by him.  He’d blow our money on his cigarettes, toys he wanted, a new motorbike.  Stuff we just couldn’t afford.

I dated briefly a few years later.  Then stopped even looking, because I decided I wanted to learn how to live alone. To love myself.  That took years. 

Now, I’m living in a house on my own.  I have three cats I love.  I’ve gotten a job that pays me enough to live comfortably and save money toward retirement.  I’m engaged to a man who loves me.  Who will never, ever, slam my head against my keyboard or call me demeaning nicknames, or tell me I’m stupid.

Life is looking up.

[ezatluba]

Madagascar’s endangered lemurs are being killed during pandemic lockdowns

Early data paints a troubling picture for these animals and their habitat.

Mouse lemurs such as critically endangered Microcebus berthae are so small they can fit in the palm of your hand. As people have been turning to forests for food and fuel during the

DINA FINE MARON

DECEMBER 14, 2020

TIANA ANDRIAMANANA WAS alarmed when she saw the fires swallowing Madagascar’s forests in March. She’d grown used to seeing illegal burns for agricultural expansion, but such widespread blazes so early in the year were extremely unusual.

The burning intensified in late March, after the nation’s coronavirus lockdown was announced. People began fleeing its capital, Antananarivo, and other cities, boarding crowded vehicles bound for rural areas. They hoped “they could work the land and then produce a yield that would help them survive the health and economic crisis,” says Andriamanana, executive director of Fanamby, a Madagascan conservation nonprofit responsible for managing five protected areas.

But working the land to grow food crops such as rice, peanuts, and maize means clearing trees. Soon, clouds of smoke—signs of illegal burning—were wafting above protected areas. In some parts of the country, more people began felling trees to burn and convert the wood into charcoal, a fuel source lighter and easier to carry than firewood.

All this illegal activity in Madagascar’s forests is especially worrying to Andriamanana and other conservationists because of the grave situation facing the island’s 107 species of lemurs—forest-dwelling primates with saucer-like eyes, long muzzles, and furry tails found nowhere else on Earth. Nearly a third of them are critically endangered, and most of the rest are considered threatened, largely because of deforestation in recent decades.

Clearing of forests threatens the island’s spectacular biodiversity, key to a tourism industry worth nearly a billion dollars a year—until the pandemic shut it down.

Madagascar’s geographic isolation and varied forest types have spawned a biological wonderland, home to thousands of endemic animals and plants that, like the lemurs, are facing pressure from humans.

Many lemur researchers left the country in March; others have been unable to travel to the remote areas where they usually work. But unpublished field reports from forest conservation patrols working with Madagascar officials, household surveys conducted by Madagascan research teams, and analysis of satellite imagery reveal a worsening situation for lemurs not only from losses of habitat but also from increased illegal hunting.

Madagascar is one of the poorest nations in the world. Malnutrition is widespread, with almost one of every two children under the age of five suffering from stunted growth. Many people in rural areas have depended on hunting forest animals for food, but with deepening poverty caused by the pandemic, lemurs are a more frequent source of meat, according to Cortni Borgerson, an anthropologist at Montclair State University, in New Jersey, who focuses on hunting and consumption of lemurs.

Before the pandemic, tourism was a cornerstone of Madagascar’s economy, supporting more than 300,000 jobs, and lemur-watching was popular. Tourism revenue amounted to about $900 million a year in a country where most people live on less than $2 a day. Yet without international flights, many of the nature guide jobs dried up, as did employment for cooks, hotel workers, and many more. Without a steady income, people have turned to the forests for food and fuel.

The critically endangered Indri indri is the world's largest lemur.

“COVID has created a serious setback because of the temporary cessation of ecotourism, which is the lifeblood of some of the communities,” says Russell Mittermeier, chief conservation officer for the nonprofit Global Wildlife Conservation and chair of the primate specialist group for the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s Species Survival Commission.

“People working in conservation are trying their best,” Andriamanana says. “It is a mess—but it’s a mess everywhere due to COVID-19.”

Falling trees

Of all the threats to Madagascar’s lemurs, additional clearing of trees is the most ominous, according to Edward Louis, a leading lemur researcher and director general of the Madagascar Biodiversity Partnership, a regional NGO.

Left: … Read MorePHOTOGRAPH BY ADRIANE OHANESIAN, NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC

Before the pandemic, sights such as this—visitors transfixed by a group of highly endangered diademed sifaka lemurs in Andasibe-Mantadia National Park—were commonplace in Madagascar forests.

If one person chops down two or three 50-year-old trees in a day—a typical number, Louis says—the cumulative reduction of lemur habitat can be disastrous. As patches of forest shrink, fragmentation isolates populations, leading to inbreeding. In addition, Louis says, too little habitat can trigger territorial disputes, sometimes leading male lemurs to kill young animals that are unrelated to them.

Getting a clear understanding of the extent of deforestation—and the resulting loss of lemur habitat—is challenging, especially during the pandemic. Country-wide satellite imagery for 2020 won’t be available until May 2021 at the earliest, based on the timeline of years past, says Lucienne Wilmé, national coordinator for the Madagascar program for Global Forest Watch, an online forest monitoring effort that provides worldwide data on deforestation.

“The Global Forest Watch data is based on percentage of canopy cover, so if there’s a hole in it, you can see it,” Wilmé says. But “holes” in the forest may not signify the absence of trees; they may instead show places where trees that lose their leaves at different times of the year appear to be missing. “It’s very complicated and very different from one forest to another,” she says.

To provide a more complete picture, the organization also relies on supplementary reports and field observations from regional research groups and nonprofits. That ground-based work—demanding in remote, hard-to-reach parts of the country—has become even more difficult during the pandemic because of travel restrictions. In addition, the unreliability of internet service can make data sharing almost impossible, Wilmé says.

According to Andriamanana—based on tracking of the roughly 1.5-million acres of protected land managed by Fanamby—deforestation has increased an average of 10 percent since 2019. By early October, the group estimated that more than 120 acres had been cleared illegally.

Hunters sometimes use traps made of a single log and a square of small branches to catch lemurs illegally for their meat, as in this protected area.

Although that small number may seem insignificant, it isn’t, Andriamanana says. Most of the losses occurred in Alaotra-Mangoro, in eastern Madagascar, and Menabe, in western Madagascar. These regions are home to critically endangered species including the Indri indri, largest of all the lemurs, and Microcebus berthae, a mouse lemur so small it can fit in the palm of your hand.

Andriamanana expects to tally additional reductions from the more frequent illegal burns that typically occur around October and November before the start of the rainy season.

The numbers lost match the numbers eaten.

Deforestation has also intensified in some parts of the 43 protected areas, encompassing 4.2 million acres, managed by Madagascar National Parks says Mamy Rakotoarijaona, its director general. In an average year about 17,000 acres of forest are lost, according to Ollier Duranton Andrianambinina, head of the parks’ department of communication and information systems.

But this year, Andrianambinina says, they’re worried that the losses will be greater. Even though Madagascar National Parks deployed new technology in 2019 to improve forest alerts for fires and surveillance, the pandemic has curtailed ranger patrols.

Charcoal rush

Despite coronavirus travel restrictions and laws prohibiting felling trees in protected areas, impoverished people in southern towns have been traveling to forest preserves in the north to find jobs cutting timber for charcoal, according to the Madagascar Biodiversity Partnership’s Edward Louis. “It’s a big business and people now just need income.”

His organization has been working with local officials to conduct ranger patrols in Montagne des Français, a protected area of dry forest in the north, and in Kianjavato, a protected area in the southeast where the nonprofit is working to preserve a corridor linking remaining areas of natural forest.

In Montagne des Français, the exclusive habitat of the northern sportive lemur—a seven-inch tall, grayish-brown animal known for its shrill screams—patrols have identified areas newly denuded for charcoal production. About 80 percent of these sportive lemurs have been wiped out during the past two decades because of habitat loss and hunting, and fewer than a hundred are thought to survive today.

“I just came back from Manombo forest in the southeast and saw the [forest] special reserve burning every day, which makes me very sad because I have conducted lemur research in that forest since 1997,” Jonah Ratsimbazafy, a Malagasy primatologist and president of the International Primatological Society, a research and conservation organization, said in late November.

Primatologist Patricia Wright, a National Geographic grantee who studies the endangered lemurs of Madagascar, discussed these unique, threatened primates in 2014 after winning the largest prize in the field of animal conservation, the Indianapolis Prize.

As the pandemic rages on, “the next six months or so will be critical for all of Madagascar,” says Louis, who, though currently based in Nebraska, is in constant touch with his teams in the country. The demands for trees and meat are continuing, and the long-term effects of habitat losses on lemurs may not be apparent for some time to come, he says.

Lemurs to eat

Before COVID-19 took hold, lemurs and other forest animals, including cat-like fossas and small, shrew-like tenrecs, had long been taken for food, although hunting lemurs has been outlawed since the 1960s.

Anthropologist and National Geographic Explorer Cortni Borgerson estimates that at least 1,600 red ruffed lemurs and 10,000 white-fronted lemurs were killed and eaten each year before the pandemic.

(Related: How pandemic-induced poaching has surged in Uganda and threatened conservation efforts in Kenya.)

Borgerson says her most recent, yet-to-be-published analyses reveal a troubling trend: Families desperate to feed themselves or sell meat in local markets are turning increasingly to hunting. She says populations of the critically endangered red ruffed lemur and threatened white-fronted lemur, in particular, are at their lowest levels in 10 years.

Based on current reports from her research teams around Masoala National Park, where she’s worked for nearly 15 years, Borgerson estimates that the density of white-fronted lemurs in the region has fallen by 56 percent—from more than 20 animals per square kilometer in 2019 to fewer than 10 this year.

Many of Madagascar’s lemurs, animals found nowhere else in the world, spend most of their time high in trees such as these in Ranomafana National Park.

What’s happening to these disappearing animals is not a mystery. “The numbers lost match the numbers eaten,” she says. Borgerson arrived at this conclusion after matching weekly data from people’s self-reporting about household food consumption collected by her research teams and comparing that information with lemur density counts.

The red ruffed lemur population density has also dropped—on average by 63 percent in just the past year, Borgerson says. Most of that loss stems from habitat loss, she believes, and about a quarter from hunting.

Reports from Ollier Duranton Andrianambinina, of Madagascar National Parks, appear to corroborate Borgerson’s findings—they, too, indicate heightened lemur hunting. From January to September of this year, their patrols have seen increases in hunting well above the norm—564 lemurs caught in traps and 132 instances when they encountered people hunting.

Aubin Andriajaona, the Madagascar Biodiversity Partnership’s site manager for Montagne des Français, says deforestation there was “very up” from March to June and that patrols in the area sometimes came across lemur body parts and bits of fur.

Raising awareness, providing options

Tiana Andriamanana says Fanamby’s patrol teams sometimes come across people who are unaware that burning trees is illegal. When that happens, she says, the teams have the discretion not to arrest them but to explain that such burns are illegal and why the trees are valuable.

The pandemic underscores the need to reduce reliance on ecotourism jobs and create other employment opportunities to alleviate the poverty driving illegal behavior, she says.

Louis agrees. He suggests that existing businesses—the manufacture of essential oils and aromatherapy products, as well as the production of vanilla, coffee, and mangos—should be further developed and organized into consortiums.

But to protect lemurs and help preserve Madagascar’s remaining wilderness, the most urgent need is to bring the pandemic under control, he says. Reforestation will remain a priority to replace what’s been lost—reconnecting fragmented lemur habitat and expanding buffer zones around protected areas.

“We need to make local communities self-sufficient in terms of food security and health security,” Andriamanana says. “If we don’t have that, then they will always tap into the forest.”

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Naughty Stranger by Stacey Kennedy

Dangerous Love #1

Sometimes the perfect book comes my way just when I need it and today there could not have been a better book for me to read. I fell in love with the characters, supporting characters and town as they came together to welcome Peyton Kerr and then support and protect her when bad things began to happen. The dynamics between Peyton and Boone Knight sizzled and their chemistry was instantaneous and undeniable. They were perfect together and reading their story made me happy...in spite of all that happened to make it at times rather suspenseful.

Peyton was someone I could see myself being once in my life. I have been an RN and young and in love. I have not experienced the heartbreak that Peyton did but can empathize. And Boone...talk about a heartthrob and perfect book boyfriend! I loved that they truly saw and got to know one another, shared and cared and all the rest. I enjoyed the mystery of who was out to kill people and how the police followed the clues. I loved meeting Asher and Rhett – Boone’s friends and colleagues on the police force. Kinsley and Remy were great girl friends for Peyton and always there for her.

I think one thing that came through to me in this book is that we really should make the most of every moment we have because that is all any of us are sure of. Live and love and experience life even when it is dark because even in the dark there is usually a bit of light.

Did I enjoy this book? Definitely!

Would I  like to read more in this series? I can’t wait!

Thank you to NetGalley and Hachette-Forever (Grand Central Publishing) for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42365674-naughty-stranger

BLURB

From USA Today bestselling author Stacey Kennedy comes a thrilling, sexy romance about a woman in danger and a small-town police detective who will do anything to keep her safe. After a sudden tragedy blew her world apart, Peyton Kerr fled her big city career and started over in Stoney Creek, Maine. So far, she’s loving small-town life–no one knows about her past, and her easy flirtation with Boone Knight gives her a reason to smile. But then someone is murdered in Peyton’s store, and her quiet, anonymous existence is instantly destroyed. To make matters worse, Boone–a police detective–is assigned to the case, and Peyton knows she can’t keep him at arm’s length any longer. She’s resisted the simmering heat between them–but now this gorgeous man is promising to keep her safe–and satisfied… Boone Knight doesn’t want the complications of a relationship. But when he volunteers to protect his town’s newest–and sexiest–resident, he finally admits he’d like to explore their sizzling attraction. And after one incredible night, everything changes for Boone. Peyton is sweeter–and braver–than anyone he’s ever met, and with her in his arms, everything makes sense. He just needs to convince her to trust him enough to reveal her secrets, or risk losing her to a merciless killer who seems to grow bolder with each passing day.

EXCERPT

http://www.staceykennedy.com/naughty-stranger-sneak-peek/

The loud rumble of the baby blue Volkswagen Beetle quieted as Peyton Kerr pressed against the brake pedal. Stoney Creek’s Main Street was cute and quaint, with boutique shops lining the skinny road where cars were parked without much space in between them. Through her open window, she tasted the salt in the air coming off the Atlantic Ocean and drove by a young man packing large containers with live lobsters into the back of his old Chevy pickup. On the next corner was a ticket booth for the lighthouse boat tours. Stoney Creek was a far cry from the bright lights, skyscrapers, and pungent busy city aroma that Seattle carried, but it was also a most welcome change.

People came to Stoney Creek for the picturesque views of the coastline on the bay. They climbed the mountain that overlooked the town and the ocean. They ate fresh fish at the restaurants near the marina, walked the beaches, and sailed the open waters. Peyton came for those reasons too. Well, and a laundry list of others, including that Stoney Creek was the last vacation spot she visited with her late husband, Adam, just over a year ago. She’d been her happiest here. They swam the waters, ate too much, laughed hard enough to cry. That’s what brought her back to the small Maine town. She’d left Seattle a heartbroken twenty-six-year-old widow, and she returned to Stoney Creek determined to find happiness here again.

Her heart clenched at the reminder of all she’d lost, threatening to expose all the weak spots. She forced the emotion back with a deep swallow, refusing to go to the dark place again. The past was behind her. That’s where it’d stay.

Up ahead, Peyton recognized the dark-haired slender woman waiting beneath a withered store sign as Isabella, her real estate agent. Peyton squeezed her used—but new to her—car into one of the parking spots.

Before she could even get out, Isabella was already at the passenger-side door. “You made it.”

“I’m so glad to finally be here.” Peyton smiled, turning off the car and exiting. She’d done a nine-hour flight with a layover in Philadelphia, then landed at the Portland International Jetport. That’s where she found her new car, which she thought suited small-town living. After a good night’s sleep in Portland, she drove three hours, taking the scenic drive along the coast to her fresh start. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“It’s no problem. I’ve got your keys here for both your house and your shop.” Isabella reached into her purse, then handed Peyton two sets of keys. “You’re all set to move in and open shop.” She handed her a slew of business cards. “I’ve given you some names of handymen around town if you want to give the store a makeover.”

Peyton glanced up at the old sign again and took in the cracked windowpane and peeling white paint on the exterior. Both the shop and her new lake house needed work, but so did she. “Great,” Peyton said, feeling like a fish out of water. “Thank you so much for everything. You’ve been so helpful.”

“Call if you need anything.” Isabella smiled and, shocking Peyton, threw her arms around her like they were friends. “You’re going to love it here.” With a final wave, she was off, practically skipping her way down the sidewalk.

Okay, so the people were the nice, touchy-feely sort.

Peyton turned back to her new shop and exhaled the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Set in a historic redbrick building, in between Whiskey Blues, a jazz club on the right, and an empty store on the left, was her little lingerie shop with the French-style storefront. Two large display windows hugged the dark maple door with the original brass handle. The store might not be much in size, but the charm of the shop made up for it.

It was also 100 percent hers. Paid for with the insurance money from Adam’s death. Two weeks ago, in her lowest of lows, a Facebook ad for the Stoney Creek B&B, where she and Adam had stayed at when they’d vacationed there, had popped up on her screen. After that, she’d fallen down the Internet hole until she discovered the local lingerie shop was for sale. Everything from there happened so fast; she’d up and bought the shop on a total whim. Because if anything could make her feel happy again, it would be found in the place she felt the happiest. She also kept thinking that if she could make other women feel beautiful, then she’d feel that way again too.

This past year, she had no reason to wear gorgeous lingerie, let alone find a reason to get out of bed. She wore cotton bras and underwear for comfort. But she’d had a blast selling lingerie during her nursing school days. She couldn’t help but think that buying a lingerie shop was a good step forward to finding the fun parts of herself that had disappeared with Adam’s death.

Sure, she knew her mental state was hanging in the balance of her new life and her new shop. She couldn’t fail. Not because of the money. Adam had left her in good shape financially. But she couldn’t fail because this was all she had. There was nothing else giving her a purpose. And she was done playing the victim. She was also done simply surviving. She’d already been doing that in spades in Seattle. She wanted to breathe. To live.

And that’s why she’d left Seattle and her parents. She’d given up her nursing career in the ER at Seattle’s General Hospital, and she’d dumped every cent she received from Adam’s insurance money into this shop and her little house on the lake.

Was she crazy?

Oh, yeah, she was totally batshit nuts.

She glanced down at the house keys in her hand. All of her belongings would be shipped tomorrow, so tonight she planned to stay at the Stoney Creek B&B a couple blocks down Main Street.

“Are you the new owner?”

Peyton turned around, finding an older couple smiling at her. “Yes, I am.”

“Oh, so lovely to hear,” the woman said, her arm wrapped in her husband’s. “We need more young business owners coming in and keeping our downtown alive.” She offered her hand. “I’m Marjorie, and this is Joe.”

Peyton returned Marjorie’s handshake and then shook Joe’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Peyton.” When she drew her hand away, her stomach suddenly rumbled loudly. “I’m sorry about that. Apparently, I’m starving.”

Joe’s amber eyes crinkled with his warm smile. “The bar next door has one of the best fish sandwiches in town.”

“That sounds delicious.” Peyton returned the smile, feeling the tightness in her chest begin to dissolve. “I’ll be sure to check it out. Thanks.”

“Enjoy your evening, Peyton,” Marjorie said. With a final wave, they continued on their walk.

When Peyton’s stomach growled again, she headed for the bar, thinking a drink along with food sounded like the next best step forward. She didn’t see any parking signs, figuring she could leave her car there for the night.

She grabbed her purse from the car, locked the doors and entered the bar. From its original flagstone walls and restored burgundy velvet chairs to the gold accents, the bar was pure class. Four large crystal chandeliers gave the space a warm, inviting feel, and round tables surrounded the black shiny stage, where a man had his head bowed over the piano he played.

Peyton headed for the bar that had three men drinking beers. She hastily moved to the other side, keeping her distance from anyone of the opposite sex. Even the hot guy with the dark hair and muscular biceps who held her gaze, the side of his mouth curving sensually. Actually, especially because of that. She needed to find herself again, not find herself in anyone’s bed.

When she slid onto the stool, a friendly voice said, “You’re new here.”

Peyton glanced up, finding a slim, long-haired brunette wearing a black T-shirt that read whiskey blues across her chest. The bright pink lipstick she wore made her big blue eyes pop.

“Yup, I’m brand spanking new.” Peyton smiled, offering her hand. “I bought the store next door.”

“Did you?” The woman returned the handshake. “Well, that makes us friends already, then.”

Peyton laughed. “And here I was thinking making new friends was going to be hard.” She placed her hands back onto her purse. “I’m Peyton.”

“Kinsley,” the woman said, grabbing a martini glass. “Lucky for you, I own this place, which means I can call it a night and celebrate us being neighbors.” She gestured at the glass. “Chocolate martinis sound okay?”

“Sounds divine,” Peyton said, her mouth watering. She definitely wanted a fish sandwich, but a little liquid love first didn’t hurt. Besides, she hoped the drink would help dissolve the lump in her throat. She questioned her sanity, uprooting her life and leaving her family behind. But she couldn’t have stayed in Seattle another day. Seattle belonged to her and Adam. She needed to belong without him. Adam was gone. He wasn’t coming back.

Kinsley finished pouring two glasses, then held hers up. “To new friendships and new beginnings.”

Peyton lifted her glass. “Cheers to that!”

Before long, one glass turned into two glasses, and Peyton’s belly felt warm, her smile easy, the fish sandwich long forgotten. She spoke of Seattle, leaving out all the personal parts, keeping those secrets locked up tight. And Kinsley shared life in Stoney Creek, the fun places to go, the sights to see.

“I make a damn fine martini,” Kinsley said, licking the chocolate flakes off her upper lip. She placed her empty glass behind the bar. “Give me a couple minutes, then we’ll Uber it to this new house of yours on the lake and grab some takeout on the way. I gotta see this place. It sounds amazing.”

Sure, Kinsley was a stranger, but something about her laidback way put Peyton at ease. “Deal.” Peyton took another sip of her drink, watching Kinsley leave the bar and move into the back room, feeling happier than she’d felt in an entire year.

Something warm suddenly brushed against Peyton’s arm, making her shiver. She turned as Mr. Crooked Smile sat on the stool next to her. He was tall—around six foot two, pure muscle, an all-around fine specimen of a man. His intense blue eyes that appeared nearly gray in the low lighting held hers, and his five-o’clock shadow brought her attention to his totally kissable lips. He wore a navy-blue T-shirt that stretched across his chest, showcasing hard biceps, and jeans that hugged his thick thighs.

“Hi.” He grinned, voice as smooth as melted chocolate. And she really liked chocolate. A lot.

She took in the hard masculine lines of his face, softened a little by the strands of dark hair falling across his forehead. “I’m new here, opening the shop next door,” she babbled.

“Ah, the lingerie shop,” he said, his eyes dancing at whatever was crossing her expression. “Tonight’s a celebration, then?”

God, she must have looked like she wanted to eat him. Well, she did, so whatever. Obviously, the martinis without food had been a terrible idea. “That’s right,” she said, lifting her chin, trying not to look as rattled by this guy or as tipsy as she felt.

His arm brushed against hers again—clearly intentional this time—and she shivered, hearing her own hitching breath. His gaze went red hot, those deep eyes turning darker, examining her deeper. She swallowed, trying to calm her puckering nipples and the building heat between her thighs.

What. The. Hell?

“Um, excuse me.” She slid off the stool and stumbled in the process. After she laughed at herself and hid her gaze from him, she beelined it toward the bathroom across the bar. Once inside, she turned on the water and placed her hands underneath to cool off. She looked into the mirror, finding her cheeks flushed, her eyes glossy and full of heat. Maybe those chocolate martinis had an aphrodisiac effect. Because . . . holy hell!

She stayed in the bathroom probably longer than necessary. When she came out, she nearly walked into Mr. Crooked Smile. He caught her by the waist to steady her, and when his hands tightened on her hips something overcame her, an emotion she could not control. His touch was warm and strong, and his potent stare pulled her in until she looked into his eyes intimately.

He arched an eyebrow. “All right?”

“Why are you waiting here for me?” she managed.

His smile was gentle and sweet, and on a big tough guy looked mouthwateringly delicious. “You’ve been in there a while. Feeling okay?”

She stared at him. For some reason she was immensely touched by his kindness, and she suddenly couldn’t remember all the reasons she didn’t want a man in her life. “God, you’re so hot.” She grabbed his face and kissed him. Passionately. With tongue.

A low masculine sound that tickled her in the best places rose from deep in his chest. Then her back hit the wall. Hard. Shock and desire flooded her as he threaded one hand into her hair, then claimed her mouth. Owned it, with every hard press of his lips and swirl of his tongue.

When she began nearly climbing up his body, a moment of clarity hit her, and she broke away with a gasp. “What in the hell are we doing?” she asked, staring at his mouth, and wanting desperately to have more of it. “You’re a stranger.” A naughty stranger.

“I believe you kissed me,” he said in a voice so low goose bumps rose on her arms, and a smile so sexy it should come with a warning label. “And were doing a fine job of it.”

“Ahem.”

Still in the man’s arms, Peyton turned, finding Kinsley staring at them with her arms folded.

“So,” Kinsley said with a sly smile. “I see you’ve met my brother, Boone.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stacey Kennedy is an outdoorsy, wine-drinking, nap-loving, animal-cuddling, USA Today bestselling romance author with a chocolate problem. She writes sexy contemporary romance full of heat and heart, including titles in her wildly hot Kinky Spurs, Club Sin, and Dirty Little Secrets. She lives in southwestern Ontario with her family and does most of her writing surrounded by lazy dogs. To keep in touch with Stacey, get updates right to your inbox at staceykennedy.com/newsletter/.

[picardonhealth]

Fluoride won’t make you dumber, but the ‘debate’ about its safety might

ANDRÉ PICARD, The Globe and Mail 

PUBLISHED AUGUST 23, 2019

There is no shortage of conspiracy theories in health care, but some of the most imaginative and enduring are about fluoridation.

You don’t have to venture too far down the internet rabbit hole to find that fluoride – which is placed in some drinking water to reduce cavities – has been linked to almost every conceivable medical and social condition, from cancer to frail bones, rising crime rates to plummeting IQs.

One paranoiac, Cold War-era analysis goes something like this: Fluoride – an invisible, tasteless, brain-altering chemical – was put into the water supply by agents of the Soviet Union in a concerted bid to make citizens stupid and the United States ripe for takeover.

“It’s incredibly obvious isn’t it?” General Jack D. Ripper explained in the savagely satirical 1964 film Dr. Strangelove. “A foreign substance is introduced into our precious bodily fluids without the knowledge of the individual. Certainly without any choice. That’s the way your hardcore commie works.”

Laughable. Except, the notion that drinking water containing minute quantities of fluoride shaves points off our IQ is back – served up by a prestigious medical journal, no less.

Earlier this week, JAMA Pediatrics published a Canadian study that suggested children exposed to fluoride in utero may have slightly lower intelligence scores than those not exposed to fluoride.

Research such as this is valid, but the researchers overreached when they said pregnant women should limit their consumption of fluoridated water. That’s the kind of leap that gives the field of environmental epidemiology a bad name.

The research involved 512 pregnant women in six cities whose fluoride intake was measured in two ways: 1) They were asked to estimate their consumption of tap water, and the fluoride content of the local supply was applied; 2) The urine of 141 women living in cities with fluoridated water and 228 with non-fluoridated water was tested.

Three to four years later, the mothers’ children underwent IQ tests.

After some number crunching, the researchers found that an increase of 1 milligram per litre of urinary fluoride levels was linked to a 4.5-point IQ score decrease in boys, but no difference in girls. Based on self-reported consumption, an increased daily intake of 1 mg/litre was linked to an IQ reduction of 3.66 points in boys and girls.

Practically, that means the children of mothers who consumed fluoridated water had slightly lower IQs – about two to three points based on median fluoride intake of 0.7 mg/litre.

That is utterly meaningless. IQ is at best an imperfect measure of intelligence. Test results can vary from day to day. Heck, you probably lose two IQ points watching a Seth Rogen movie.

Then, there are the study’s limitations, the most important of which is the age-old admonition: Correlation is not causation.

Meaning, just because the small sample of fluoridated-water drinkers’ children in the study had marginally lower IQ scores doesn’t mean the fluoride is to blame. Countless things contribute to your memory, analytical thinking, mathematical ability and spatial recognition (the things measured in an IQ test), including genetics, education, nutrition, pollution and more.

The researchers do us no favours – and potentially a great deal of harm – by jumping to dubious conclusions that fuel anti-fluoridation conspiracies.

Already, we are seeing groups such as the Fluoride Action Network salivating at the propaganda value of these findings and holding them out as proof “claims that thousands of studies show fluoridation is safe are not true. In fact, public health has been negligent about examining the health of people living in fluoridated communities.”

Over the past 70-some years, few substances have been more studied than fluoride, and the conclusion is always the same: Fluoridation is safe, and prevents cavities.

The origin of fluoridation is a fascinating tale of shoe-leather scientific investigation. In 1901, newly graduated dentist Frederick McKay opened a practice in Colorado Springs, Colo. He noticed that many of the town’s children had grotesque brown stains on their teeth but also very few cavities. He was determined to figure out why. It took him three decades to crack the puzzle.

Turns out that children who drank from water supplies with high levels of naturally occurring fluoride developed “Colorado Brown Stain.” But the fluoride also strengthened tooth enamel, resulting in fewer cavities.

The head of the dental hygiene unit at the U.S. National Institute of Health, H.T. Dean, was intrigued, and decided to test fluoride levels around the U.S. The study found a sweet spot where fluoride levels protected teeth without staining – 1 part per million. (Today, the standard is 0.7 ppm.)

So why not add the chemical to water supplies where it was not naturally occurring, Dean wondered.

In 1945, Grand Rapids, Mich., became the first city in the world to fluoridate its drinking water. After 11 years, the rate of cavities fell a whopping 60 per cent, but remained the same in Muskegon, a nearby city that did not fluoridate.

Also in 1945, a similar experiment was conducted in Brantford, Ont., which registered a 35-per-cent drop in cavities and a 63-per-cent reduction in the severity of cavities over the next 11 years.

It was the first time in history scientists had found a way to prevent cavities, a public-health milestone.

But it was wartime and fluorine had another, more sinister use as a key component in the manufacturing of atomic bombs.

In the postwar years, as skepticism of science grew, distrust in government flourished and the Red Scare was born, fluoridation became a flashpoint.

Anti-fluoridation activists have done a brilliant job of adapting their fear-mongering to the times.

In the 1960s, fluoride was positioned as a civil-rights issue – unwarranted “mass medication.” In the seventies, shielding people from fluoride was a consumer-protection issue. In the eighties, it became about preventing waterways from being polluted by a dangerous chemical. In the budget-slashing nineties, fluoridation was targeted as an unnecessary expense for taxpayers. And in the 2000s, as an “unnatural” and “neurotoxic” chemical. Today, anti-fluoridation groups are riding the wave of rejection of expertise and promoting pseudoscience with science-y language.

Yet, over time, the fundamental arguments for and against fluoridation haven’t changed.

Public health officials argue that it’s a cheap, safe, effective way of reducing cavities. Fluoridating municipal water supplies costs about $1 per person; each dollar invested saves an estimated $38 in dental care.

Opponents of fluoridation see Big Brother poisoning them with chemicals, and make sweeping safety claims, based largely on rat studies and wild generalizations about small epidemiological studies, such as the new paper on IQ.

About 66 per cent of U.S. drinking water and 38 per cent of Canadian drinking water is fluoridated. (Water is also treated with chlorine or ozone to kill bacteria.)

In Europe, only about 3 per cent of drinking water is fluoridated; in many European countries, children take fluoride supplements; in countries with free dental care, they get regular fluoride rinses. In Asia and Africa, salt and milk contains fluoride.

There’s no question that with the advent of fluoridated toothpaste and the popularity of bottled water (which, by the way, leeches hormone-like chemicals), the relative effectiveness of fluoridated water has dropped.

If we’re going to debate anything, it should be how to best ensure everyone gets enough fluoride to protect their teeth.

But as health threats – real and imagined – go, the “government is poisoning us with fluoride” argument doesn’t hold any water.