#i like that now i get to do the areas i am more interested (migration refugee human rights public/administrative law etc)

[sophism]

who wants to give me some career advice on this wednesday afternoon when i should be working my real job.....

[irithnova]

I LOVE your Mongolia hcs. Looking back at some Mongolia art, I was always confused why Mongolia is always drawn much older than Russia. Isn’t Russia supposed to be older as a country??? Mongolia appeared in the 13th century and Russia in 10th?

Ok so I personally headcanon Mongolia to be an old as f*** man LMAO. Not as old as as China or India or Persia but but old that other nations look at him and put him in the same kind of category.

It's not as if Mongolian people sprang up out of nowhere when Genghis Khan came along. Mongolian people and their predecessors have been there for a while. Albeit they were fragmented before Genghis came along and united the Mongol tribes.

I think that Mongolia existing before this, even way before this makes sense (in my personal headcanon). I will touch upon the predestination hetalia theory later on in this God-forsaken essay. For now, this is a more simple example. Aph Prussia is still a character/"alive" despite Prussia as a state/nation no longer existing. So, in hetalia, a nation rep can exist without the nation/state itself actually existing. Perhaps more of a representation of that ethnic group?

Coming back to what I said about how its not like Mongolian people sprung up out of nowhere in the 13th century. I also think the same could be said for Mongolia himself. Many different nomadic groups lived in/ruled over Mongolia since Ancient times, and I like to think Mongolia lived through a lot of this (but he cannot remember a lot of his very early life, will get onto why later).

According to the introduction of the secret history of the Mongols, the Mongols were a small nomadic tribe that lived in Mongolia along with the Unggirads, Kereyids, Naimans, Tayichiuds and the Merkids. The Mongols were among one of the many nomadic groups traveling around this area in the 10th century. Indeed, I do recall reading that there were Chinese records calling the Mongols by their name from the 9/10th century?

So, in this instance, you could argue that Russia and Mongolia are around the same age. I’ve seen some people accept this as their personal headcanon, and it makes quite an interesting dynamic!

However, I personally like to go back even further.

Now I understand that the argument of X didn't spring up out of nowhere it's always existed can only hold up for so long. So I do hope my argument justifying why Mongolia is an old man doesn't come across this way.

Way before Mongols, there was the Xiongnu. I’ll give a simplified run down of what happened with them. The Xiongnu empire emerged in 209 BC however fell apart in the 4th century AD.

As I have stated before, many different ethnic groups ruled over and lived in Mongolia since Ancient times. However the establishment of the Xiongnu empire is what marked the beginning of statehood on Mongolian territory.

Side note: I am aware that the ethnicity of the Xiongnu has been widely contested and hypothesised among scholars and historians. There are quite a few scholars who insist on the Xiongnu being of Mongolic origin. For hetalias sake, I’ll accept them as Mongolic. Remember, I am not a historian, this is for hetalia purposes.

By 48 AD, the Xiongnu were weakened and were divided into Northern and Southern parts. The Northern Xiongnu migrating to the West and creating what was known as the Hunnic empire.

The Xiongnu, now weakened, meant that the Xianbei could come back to bite them in their asses. The Xianbei were the Northern branch of the Donghu, a people who were conquered/subjugated by the Xiongnu, one of the first in fact. The Donghu were a proto-Mongolic group that Chinese historians recorded as existing as early as the 4th century BC.

From then on, different factions/branches of the Xianbei would go on to consolidate their power in Mongolia as well as Central/Northern Asia. For example, the Tuoba established the Tuoba Wei empire and ruled over Northern China from 386 AD-535 AD. Another branch off of the Xianbei, the Rourans, established a nomadic empire in this area too.

I’ve already talked about how scholars/historians have contested the ethnic background of the Xiongnu. It is the same with the Xianbei, but less so. Many historians agree on the fact that they were Mongolic/spoke a Mongolic language with Turkic influences. For hetalias sake and for simplicitys sake, I will accept them as Mongolic.

I like to think that both the Xiongnu and the Xianbei were Mongolic (not without Turkic influence) and were major predecessors to the Mongolia we all know and love today. However let me just say, that nation family trees are very complicated, and nations are not born in the traditional sense of two parents, so me saying that these two were major predecessors isn’t me trying to pin them as like. His dad’s or something. A new nation or representative of a nation can be “born” for a plethora of reasons.

I would like to get onto the subject of pre-destination in hetalia as I feel like it is relevant to this part of my essay where I will slowly begin to justify why I believe Mongolia is old.

If a (potential) successor/successors emerge from a nation, or combination of nations, does this mean that the previous nations fate is already set in stone? That their demise was destined to happen?

It’s not a secret that a successor can exist at the same time as their predecessor, even long before the predecessor is weakening. For example, Hima released official art of Ancient Egypt holding a much younger “modern” Egypt. In addition, there’s lots of fanart of mama Britannia with little England, so successors co-existing with their predecessors seems to be something that it widely accepted in the hetalia fandom.

My own view on the predestination hetalia theory is mixed but largely positive. I believe that not all new potential successors who emerge will be the true successor in the end. They could just be smaller, failed states who won’t last very long. And considering the history of the world I’m sure there were a lot of these.

But. When it comes to the true successors, the ones who come out on top, and who emerge the most stable/prevalent/powerful? I personally believe that they can crop up long before they get to that powerful state, and again, can co-exist with their predecessors, even if the predecessors are not weakened yet. And considering how powerful the Mongol Empire was, how it overshadows all previous steppe Empires, and the fact that Mongolia is still around today? You can guess where this is going.

Some scholars speculate that the intermarriage between Xiongnu and Xianbei may have been the genesis of modern (?) Mongolians. Indeed, the Xianbei, after kicking the Xiongnu’s asses, encouraged intermarriage between themselves and the Xiongnu, even with the Chinese. However Xianbei nobility was restricted to only Xiongnu in terms of intermarriage.

Furthermore, it is the consensus of most historians that the Mongols of Genghis Khan were descendants of a peripheral Xianbei branch, the Shiwei.

So, the Xianbei/Donghu, or in hetalia terms, aph Xianbei/Donghu, was more of a major predecessor to aph Mongolia than aph Xiongnu was. Once the Xianbei defeated the Xiongnu (wasn’t just the Xianbei, the Chinese had enough of them and conducted an ethnic genocide against them) what was left of them was absorbed into the Xianbei state/identity, thus being a part of Mongolias identity.

Indeed, there are many cultural similarities between the Xiongnu and the Mongols. Such as the composite bow, gers, and the long song. The Long Song and its origin is mentioned in the book of Wei, and is believed to date back at least 2000 years.

Because of everything I’ve just said, I personally headcanon Mongolia as first emerging as, seemingly, one of these small/destined to fail Donghu/Xianbei states, who was pretty much ignored by his predecessors for the most part during this period as they probably looked at him and thought “oh look another rando kid who won’t be around in half a century lol ignore him”. So he was passed around from family to family who didn’t know what to do with him as he just wouldn’t age. However, facial wise, as a child, he did kind of look a bit like the Xiongnu/Xianbei (others too but this was a little more noticeable). Xianbei, being ruled over by the Xiongnu at this time, probably noticed this and felt a bit uneasy around him. So Xianbei ignoring him was a mixture of “random failed wannabe state who won’t be here for long lol” and “omg this kid is foreshadowing total Xiongnu dominance over my people”.

Xiongnu, on the other hand, was probably greatly amused by Mongolias existance as they ruled over the Xianbei at the time, and seeing this kid translated to them as “lol the Xianbei are fucked”.

Soon it became apparent that it was actually the Xiongnu who were fucked when the Xianbei rebelled in 93 AD. This wasn’t the complete end of the Xiongnu but it was the beginning of the end (they did their very best to hold on). Again, I’m not saying that these two were the only predecessors to Mongolia and this certainly isn’t supposed to be a completely accurate historical text, this is me trying to justify a hetalia headcanon LMAO.

As time went on, I think subsequent rulers of the steppe began to realise that “oh wait, why is he [Mongolia] still here oh that’s weird” so at that point they began to view him with more significance despite the fact he was aging slowly, even by nation standards, and so allowed him to stay with the family of nobility rather than random families.

He did get stronger over time but there was still that consistent illness that was about him. A lot happened between his “birth” and the unification of the Mongol tribes under Genghis Khan, but the unification of the Mongol tribes is what made that sickness go away altogether and gave him a major growth spurt (why I headcanon him as tall). He truly felt in control of himself as his identity was truly consolidated at this point.

So yeah he emerged sometime during the late-ish BC period (I’m sorry I know that sounds vague) and was seen as just some random small state and so his identity was definitely not all there yet and yes it obviously developed throughout the years. The growing pains must have sucked lol.

Also random but another reason why I like the Xiongnu/Mongolia cultural influence link is from influence from other hetalia creators. @absolvtely-barbaric on tumblr has influenced me. I liked the fact that Xiongnu gave his “sons” cheek scars to teach them a lesson about endurance, and @pearlescentplums draws him with a cheek scar (and a lip scar) and the way they draw him is Canon in my head sorry <33 I’m not sure how I headcanon how Mongolia got his scars yet but. I like it being there as a nod to previous rulers of the steppe, so now I’m headcanoning that aph Xianbei (?) also had a lip scar LMAO.

Aph Mongolia by @pearlescentplums and yes he looks like this to me in my head

I highly doubt Mongolia can remember much of his very early life which probably frustrates him to no end. The fact that it was so long ago and the fact that he did not have a strong identity/sense of identity also didn’t help with memory retention. He remembers some voices and distinct silhouettes but other than that, not a lot.

So, this is why I hc him as being old. I’m not a historian and I did write a lot of this at like 4 am hahah, I’ve had to take a lot of liberties too as the history of steppe people is quite obscure plus I am not an expert on this subject so I tried my best. This is just my personal headcanon and it’s completely fine if you disagree with it!! I'm sorry in advance if I've gotten some dates wrong or if this is hard to follow <3

[its-short-for-jackalope]

Jack's Big Rambly Nonsense Theory Post About Episode 3 ✨️

I am a merciful fella so the rambles will be contained under the cut.

hey! what's up? this is the only thing I care about for the time being so I'm gonna ramble about it! I don't know what I'm doing! all of this could be wrong! I'm very excited!

Please feel free to reply/reblog or like.. idk, y'all can tag me if you wanna make a separate post jumping off of, responding to, or completely annihilating (in a friendly way!) any of my theories here.

What The Heck Is Antikythera?

i didnt know what this was and it seemed somewhat important since it's in the title (lol) so I looked it up.

one of the first things I found was the wiki article for the Antikythera mechanism, which is basically a computer/calculator from Ancient Greece that predicted astronomical positions and eclipses. It was found in a Roman shipwreck in the Mediterranean in 1901 and might have been constructed as far back as 205 BC. (it had gears and everything! cool!)

Considering this device is related to astronomy and approximately, oh, ALL of our protagonists are interested in and have connections to astronomy, I don't think that's a coinkydink! additionally, since this is fictional and there are no limits, mayhaps the Antikythera mechanism is a part of the story and it can do (and does do) more than predict celestial events...? 👀

Now, I admit I read about this one interesting thing and kinda just ran with it, but in case there's anything else about this itty bitty little island, I did look into it more. According to the Wikipedia, Antikythera was settled and abandoned several times throughout history. This is also where the wreck with the mechanism was discovered (hence the name), and apparently lots of birds use the island as a pit stop during migration, but that's about it. It's enough for me to laugh shrug and carry on with my mechanism theories, lol.

The Ellen Austin, The Bermuda Triangle, & Maybe A Ghost Ship

Since our beloved quartet is confirmed to be aboard the Ellen Austin and they're en route through the Bermuda Triangle/Sargossa Sea where the Ellen Austin is said to have encountered a ghost ship, I'm gonna continue with my previously-held theory that we're getting a ghost ship encounter! (In one story about the Ellen Austin, they had some of the crew go onto the ghost ship to bring it back to shore with them, and the crew ~mysteriously vanished~ which is... interesting. 👀)

I have a few ideas about what this potential ghost ship might be:

An Ancient Greek vessel straight from Antikythera, with or without a mechanism, but probably with. [squints at map] I mean, the Mediterranean isn't that far from the Sargossa Sea/Bermuda Triangle area. And/or maybe there was some time-and-space nonsense happening that could land it on the other side of the Atlantic. If our quartet could get poofed from a satellite in 1835 back to Earth in 1881(?), then a mysterious ship could plausibly get zapped to another place and/or time. Might be a bit too on the nose but c'mon, the name is in the title, there's gotta be a connection to Antikythera, and who says it can't be this? Could also have ghosts!

A slightly less ancient Roman cargo ship like the (shipwrecked) one that had the Antikythera mechanism. (Please see above for hand-waving about date & location.) Maybe the ship has a mechanism on board, and maybe it's also got ghosts—both of the Ancient Greek variety via the mechanism, and of the slightly less ancient Roman variety via it's their dang boat. Bonus points if the Greek/Antikytheran(?) ghosties were scaring the daylights out of the Romans and are responsible for the ship becoming a (double) ghost ship. Of course this also hinges on how literal the "ghosts" in The Ghosts of Antikythera are, but I'll ramble about that in a little bit.

A much less ancient ship from whatever eras make it more likely to be in the Sargossa Sea, but it has an Antikythera mechanism somehow. This would take out a lot of fuss about how the ship got here or how it could have survived this long without being wrecked or discovered, AND it would bring up new and fun questions such as "why does this random ship have an Ancient Greek mechanism" and I call that a win-win. Could be a classic pirate ship, could be a newer vessel that'd be more familiar to the crew of the Ellen Austin... idk im not a boat guy but I think there's some fun possibilities.

bonus theory: the ghost ship has "witch" in the name or has a name related to witches, or maybe literally just has "wicked" in the name, purely based off this tweet:

thank you @man-down-in-hatchet-town for being my Twitter scout, lmao

Just 'cause, you know... wicked, witches. The waves could be just part of the water theme since (i assume) the episode takes place predominantly at sea, or perhaps the ghost ship is literally carried "this way" by the waves.

Ghosts — Like, Literally? Or Do You Mean Metaphorically?

We already know that Pulp Musicals will be exploring multiple genres—sci-fi, horror, mystery, adventure—so I'm betting episode three will add some horror to the mix, especially after Matt's delightfully ominous words in the trailer:

In this web of mystery, Margaret has begun to unravel her own... but she is not the only one awakening. And soon, our heroes will find that the light of discovery can bring forth shadows darker than anything they could have ever imagined.

...Yeah, sounds like horror and/or ghosts to me! So maybe the ghosts of Antikythera are real actual spooky scary spirits, in which case I am very excited to pull up a chair and listen to Herschel scoff and try to find a rational, scientific explanation for any spooky happenings. (Idk if he believes in ghosts or not, but in this case I hope he doesn't because that will make it much funnier for me. <3 )

On the other hand, "horror" is incredibly vague, so maybe we won't get jump-out-and-say-boo ghosts at all. Maybe the ghosts of Antikythera are more unsettling because they aren't an active, supernatural force wreaking havoc on the open sea—maybe they're just an empty vessel, forgotten memories, and the lingering consequences of the actions taken by people who are long since dead. What's scarier—the dead staying behind to screw with you face to face, or the dead abandoning their troubles & mistakes and leaving clueless strangers to get stuck with the deadly fallout?

Honestly, tho? I'm excited either way, and I'm very curious to see how scary Matt plans to go.

Theories That Don't Have A Ghost Ship, Because You Never Know

I am 100% behind the ghost ship theory, but making theories is fun so why not throw some other ones out there. Full disclosure, I don't think these are that likely, and some are mostly gonna be for laughs.

They find a shipwreck. I'm really only considering this because the Antikythera mechanism was found on a wreck. I don't think the Ellen Austin would stop to investigate a shipwreck if they happened upon one, and I also don't know if they'd even have the equipment to safely or effectively investigate it if they wanted to. Then again, maybe they would stop if they saw the wreck go down, and also who needs to go down in the water if you have a passenger with magic powers? If Margaret could launch the Sagitta, she could probably fish up a wreck easy peasy. Maybe she wouldn't even need the ship to stop, she could just see (or sense?) something in the water and reach out with the Radiance. And if whatever she brought onto the Ellen Austin was haunted, then that could kick off the ghost stuff... huh. I actually kinda like this idea!

Atlantis? I think someone mentioned this in the chat for the trailer's premiere. I'm inclined to say "probably not" though... unless the quartet gets poofed or otherwise summoned closer to Greece. But I think they'll probably be sticking around the Sargossa Sea, since there isn't a lot of time for them to be traveling all around in a ~90 minute episode, and the previous episodes kinda picked a place and stayed there. Doesn't necessarily mean we couldn't get an underwater city (or formerly underwater city), of course. It just probably wouldn't be Atlantis.

...I actually don't have any other ideas right now, lol. I really think it's gonna be a ghost ship. And that the Antikythera mechanism has something to do with it.

Oof okay, for the sake of my eyes and brain, I'm going to stop staring at my phone and thinking for now, lol. I will probably come up with some more thoughts & theories as time goes on, but I think I have used all my batteries for today.

Again, if anybody reads this and wants to contribute or comment, feel free! 💫

[clouseplayssims]

Oregon Trail Updates!

Worked out about 25% of the rules. (Subject to change when I play, but overall it's going good.)

Downloaded all the All About Style victorian stuff. I want to try and stick to 1846-1869 fashions.

Started gathering CC to build another limited CC folder geared towards this specific time period.

Sorted all winners into wagons, there's 7 right now. One family will get a "promotion" to leader for a total of 8 wagons. It's more than I originally wanted but there were a lot of TS3 sims I liked so... we got more.

Still can't find a Conestoga Wagon and I'm getting desperate over it. I swear there was one for TS2!

Before any of this begins, I want to be very clear that I do not condone the actions of the US Government that resulted in the Oregon Trail/Mass Migration/The Native Population Being Screwed Over In Every Possible Way.

I find the idea of a group of people moving to an unoccupied area and building a new home interesting, but not at the expense of other people. For this challenge, while it's called the Oregon Trail Challenge after the videogame, my sims will be on the Pleasantview Trail, 100% nobody lives where they're moving, and attacks on wagon will be commited by wolves and Sun & Moon spawned bad guys like tree people. Full stop.

Second addendum: because of this, historical accuracy? We don't know her. I have some vague ideas of shapes and sizes but in the end I get to do what I want because I said so.

Lastly... I am not sure if this will be played out on twitch or just posting screenshots on tumblr. Leaning towards twitch but sharing screenshots. Multi sharing platform type things is breaking my brain a little lol.

[whatsonmedia]

A Reminder of Why Not All Her

We All Have Heroes That We Watched on Film, But The Real Ones Don't Wear Capes Now we have all seen the films and watched the TV shows which depicted our favourite characters eg; Spiderman, X Men, Power Rangers etc, but let's just stop for a moment and look at some actual real life heroes. In other words the ones that don't wear capes but rather a uniform instead and who genuinely deserve a mark of gratitude By that I mean the ones who we barely took much acknowledgement of, basically I am referring to those very individuals who swoop in, metaphorically speaking, yet still help and occasionally save the dayI am in actual fact referring to everyday people like Doctors, Nurses, Teachers, Soldiers, Carers. Even our own family members and friends. A while ago I was at home watching an episode of The One Show and they were doing an item on child adoption, the children in particular had various disabilities and health aliments. Whenever I have spoken about my involvement in Health and Social Care one thing that I have always been told is that it takes a certain kind of person to be able to do what I, and many others, in that profession do. Over the years, and certainly before I embarked on my work in the field I always looked at others already in that profession as somewhat heroic. Mainly as they pretty seem to do something that not many others would actually consider doing, and no matter just how 'migration inducing' it got they just knuckled down and got on with it. Many even go beyond what is considered to be beyond the call of duty Now if you are looking at this and wondering why I am comparing Health and Social Care work to heroes then let me tell you why I think of it as such.One of the main concepts of heroes, apart from saving lives, is that they help give hope to others, inspire others to become a better version of themselves. So on and so forth This is something that I have long wanted to openly talk about. Go back two years ago just about everyone up and down the country put rainbows in their windows celebrating the bravery and hard work of people on the front line.And the irony of this is that these people didn't wear capes Look at programmes like the Educating… series that they televised on Channel 4. From what I recall seeing there was quite a number of students who either had what many would describe as low self-esteem issues to those who were disruptive. In other words the class room trouble maker but what was even more interesting was that no matter how much the pupils played up the teachers simply never quit and eventually managed to get through to them. Whenever you look at the medical programmes that they show on the BBC there's no holding back on what the staff do there either. 24 Hours in A+E, Hospital. Just look at the clips when the staff talk directly to the camera to tell the viewers exactly what they do, how they go about it as well as the ups and downs of what they do. But most importantly, even though it absolutely exhausts them they still soldier on regardless, and quite often with not much regard to what happens to them physically. Up north you have the docu-series about the police force within the Manchester area. The Force: Manchester. Now I admit that this is something of a guilty pleasure of mine but just check out a single episode and you can see just some of what the cops have to contend with on a weekly basis. Dealing with violent drunks, aggressive individuals who are occasionally under the influence of substance abuse or in the throws of a mental health episode. Now you may not think of them as heroic within that way but on some occasions they've got to deal with someone who others are too intimidated to be near I myself admit that though I don't have that much respect for all of the force I do admire that it takes a heck of a lot of Dutch courage to deal with even a fraction of what they do. In fact for any of them be they teachers, Soldiers, ambulance crew, in fact those who bravely face the day when the going gets tough yet just do it regardless. Total respect and are definitely heroes in the eyes of many Read the full article

[donuts4evry1]

Okay, tell us about your fave jellies specifically! I'd love to learn more!

:D!!

If I'm going to be honest, most of my jellyfish knowledge sorta floats around aimlessly unless I'm looking for something specific, but I am all for telling a few of my favourite jellyfish facts! (For the record, my favourite jellyfish is the Upside-down jellyfish- specifically the Cassiopea andromeda :>)

Anyway I'm done with the beginning ramble now, I'll just get started :)

Scientists have only begun to tag jellyfish rather recently, beginning near the start of the century (if memory serves me right). Lots have been discovered through this, such as their daily migration patterns and whatnot

Though, what does interest me the most is the fact that scientists have discovered that the box jellyfish (likely the C. fleckeri, or the poster child of venemous jellyfish) "sleep" (or at least, lie motionless on the sea floor at nighttime). It's very funny, and a behaviour I believe to be shared with all box jellies of the Chironex genus (though... who knows? Maybe it might be typical box jellyfish behaviour)

What is proven is that Upside Down jellyfish do, in fact, sleep! This particular study also showed that melatonin works on Upside Down jellyfish as well... which is pretty neat I think.

If you'd like to preserve a jellyfish in liquid, a 5-10% formalin solution will do (or a 70% alcohol solution). The first reply in this thread is very helpful, actually! (though I doubt anyone here is interested in liquid preservation)

Another thread suggested using Magnesium Chloride to kill (oof) and fix jellyfish for pictures and then transfer(?) to a solution of alcohol or formalin.

The Compass Jellyfish is a sequential hermaphrodite, being born functionally male and then developing into a female upon maturity!

The Black Sea Nettle (C. achylos) and Purple Striped Sea Nettle (C. colorata) happen to be very close genetically :D! I suppose they are found roaming similar areas (around the mid to southern coast of California and Upper Mexico), so it makes sense.

They are also my favourite sea nettles and after realizing that the Monterey Bay Aquarium had wallpapers of them, they have swiftly replaced the subway bosses as my lockscreen :)

Jellyfish in the wild have slow metabolisms, so they can actually tolerate the numerous "dead zones" in the ocean for quite a while (dead zones being areas that algae and the like have completely sucked the oxygen out of).

One of these jellies is the Egg Yolk jelly, which often frequents these areas during the day (when competition is high)

The black sea nettle has "internal anchoring structures" that make it suited to swim through high currents without damage, though when I tried to look for that "internal anchoring structure" online I found nothing. Consequently, the author of my first jellyfish book, Lisa-Ann Gershwin, happened to be one of the biologists that described the species in 1996(?), so good for her :)

Ok, last bullet point before I run everyone ragged with jellyfish facts... Moon jellyfish are generally difficult to differentiate between species but here are a few distinguishing characteristics:

The A. labiata, sometimes referred to the Pacific Moon Jellyfish, may have 16 scallops (curves at the edge of their bell), while the A. aurita (or the posterchild of all moon jellies) tend to have 8. (This method may be imperfect, though. Or I might just be bad at counting).

The A. limbata has beautiful distinguishing brown bands at the edge of its bell, and generally resides in Arctic waters. Some of its polyps attached to pieces of trash were believed to be found at the coast of Northern Japan in the Spring and Summer of 2014, which is really interesting....

Anyway! That ramble ran for a while, ehehe... It's almost been an hour since I sat down and wrote all of this, hopefully you've learned something!

┏ (゜ω゜)=☞(:◎)≡

Ah! As for the candy... Here's some caramels made with some ground Jellyfish Powder, courtesy of the students at Obama Fisheries High School :)

[lazyevaluationranch]

On a post about the Blue Haired Girlfriend's quixotic citrus breeding experiments, @voidingintotheshout​ asked:

I mean, if you wanted a hearty citrus relative, why didn’t you just grow Osage Orange? They can grow as far north as Michigan which is surely further north than anyone could reasonably expect to grow a citrus tree. They’re not edible but then hearty orange isn’t either. Osage Orange are so cool and such a interesting historical plant from the Shelterbelt era of American agriculture. Apparently they do smell like citrus.

This is part three of three. Part one. Part two.

Now you've done it! It's time for A Very Brief (But Also Insufficiently Brief) History of Twentieth Century Hardy Citrus Cultivation! Growing citrus trees this far north is kind of nuts, it's true, but I promise you it is not even close to the weirdest things people have done to grow citrus in places where the citrus doesn't think it should grow.

A note: This post will written using the Swingle citrus taxonomy system, including things that are definitely wrong. The citrus taxonomic tree looks like that one box of orphaned computer cords I keep moving with me to new houses "in case I need them" except some sort of adorable five-dimensional kitten has entertained herself with them and some of the resulting knots are not technically possible in our space-time continuum. 

The powers that be gave us citrus because nothing pleases them like seeing a geneticist cry.

1. The Migrant Trees

The Soviet Union wanted lemons for tea, and they wanted to be independent enough not to have to trade with anyone else to get them, which meant they wanted to grow their own citrus. That part of the world is not a great place to grow plants that die when the temperature goes below zero, but at the foundation of the Soviet Union, there were citrus orchards in the warmest part of Georgia, along the Black Sea. Specifically, there was about, uh, one and a half square kilometers of somewhat implausible citrus orchard.

Hang on, it is about to get way less plausible.

This is the great citrus migration: any tree that did well in one spot, they'd try planting its seeds a few kilometres further north, or a few kilometres further east. Prizes were offered for breeding hardier citrus. Slowly the orchards spread, but they were extremely weird orchards.

It's usually a few degrees warmer at ground level than up in the air, and there's way less wind. So as the trees grew, they were bent over and tied along the ground. Some of them had the central trunk run in a straight line along the ground, with branches spreading out from it like the leaves of a fern, like an espaliered tree on its side. Others were starfish shaped, with the central trunk looped down until it ended up next to the base, and the branches sprawling out along the ground from the centre like starfish legs. The citrus trees were no taller than particularly vigorous strawberry plants, but they survived the winters, and you could throw a blanket over them to help them stay warm.

None of that helped if the ground froze solid, so they needed Underground Citrus. You'd dig a ditch, down below the lowest area where the ground froze, and you'd plant flat Starfish Trees or Flat Frond Trees running along the bottom of it, too deep to freeze. In winter, you'd just cover the ditch with boards any time the temperature was expected to go below freezing - citrus would tolerate the lack of light, but not the cold. Mandarins (Citrus reticulata) seemed to do best, so that’s most of what was grown.

It is a nearly unimaginable amount of work to grow citrus this way, along the bottoms of pits and trenches. We are experimentally trying to grow a Soviet-developed mandarin breed of unknown parentage, Shirokolistvennyi, but we will definitely not be putting in that level of effort.

2. The Mixed Up Trees

There are a couple species of citrus that tolerate cold well, but taste awful. A lot of effort has gone into crossbreeding them with more edible citrus. The results are ... mixed.

The Ichang Papeda (Citrus cavaleriei) generally survives temperatures down to -18 degrees C. It is stoic and calm and has mastered emptiness. Unfortunately, it has mastered emptiness too well. The fruit smells like lemons, with maybe a hint of rose, but there's nothing to eat here. It has a rind and seeds. No juice, no flesh.

(Photo by Michael Saalfield)

The Ichang Papeda is the parent or grandparent to several delicious, extremely sour Asian citrus types. Yuzu/yuja smells like grapefruit and clean wet stones from the bottom of a fast-flowing stream. Sudachi smells like grapefruit and leaves with dew on them. (I haven't met kabosu or any other papeda hybrids personally, but they are numerous.)  They're all too sour to eat plain, unless you really need to turn your face inside out for some reason, but make for excellent flavouring. 

(We have a yuzu tree and a sudachi tree and they're surviving, but no fruit yet.)

Trifoliate orange (Poncirus trifoliata) can survive temperatures down to -30 degrees C. This may be partly because, uniquely amoung citrus, they can drop leaves in autumn or winter and regrow them in spring, like a maple tree. They also produce an internal antifreeze. They are angry, twisted, thorny little plants that yell swears when you walk past them. They make a great hedge. The fruit is furry, smells like flowers and pine trees and taste like burnt, bitter plastic. It may or may not be possible to breed the horrible taste completely out of trifoliate oranges without losing cold-hardiness, if it's due to their antifreeze chemicals. Here’s Stabby:

(Photo by Rob Hille)

Even the least terrible trifoliate crossbreeds are bitter enough to qualify as “acquired tastes.” There are recipes for trifoliate marmalade: put a dozen trifoliate oranges, a kilogram of sugar, and a kilogram of pebbles in a pot, cook until it gels, then sieve out the oranges and eat the pebbles. 

We are growing a trifoliate orange / minneola orange hybrid. And, of course, someday our own trifoliate hybrids. The Blue Haired Girlfriend planted 200 trifoliate oranges a couple years ago. There are fewer now, but the survivors have lived through two winters of snow and frost, and they might have somehow gotten more stabby. We're going to breed them, to each other or to less angry fruit, try and make something new and good from them.

I've limited this post to twentieth century hardy citrus breeding, but I have to give a shoutout to somatic hybridization, a decidedly twenty first century technique, where you take a cell from each of two different plants, remove their cell walls, put them next to eachother, and shock them with electricity until they merge into a single cell whose nucleus contains all genes from both plants. Then the new plant is like, "Wow, I guess these are all my genes? It seems like a lot, haha, but it's not like somebody made me from dismembered body parts and electricity, that is not how science works. Anyway I guess it's time to do some plant stuff now."

3. The Mutant Trees

In the 1950s, people started using radiation to randomly scramble the genes of plants. You'd irradiate seeds enough to change the genes somehow, and then you'd have to plant them to see what had happened. Maybe it was people horrified by the atomic bomb desperately wanting to find some life-supporting use for atomic fission, maybe it was government-supported cold war "atom bombs are good actually, look how many we have, USSR" propaganda. Probably both. 

This time period also saw serious plans for Orion, a spaceship with a huge metal plate for a butt, intended to be propelled by exploding atomic bombs under it, which I am not actually making up.

Thousands of people in Europe and the US signed up to receive seeds with random mutations in the mail, plant them, and report back on what they heck they grew into and if it had any useful weirdness. (The gamma radiation used to mutate the seeds did not make them radioactive themselves - the seeds were completely safe.) There were also more formal and carefully controlled university research programs in China, Japan, and the US, where plants where grown in a circular research garden with a coverable radiation source at the centre, so that the farther you got from the centre, the less radiation the plants got. Radiation breeding is less popular than it used to be, but Japan still has a very productive citrus radiation breeding program.

The most popular radiation-bred citrus is the "Rio Red" grapefruit and its offspring, which has a much deeper red than non-mutant red grapefruit.

There aren't many radiation-developed citrus breeds noted for cold-hardiness - with radiation you get whatever you get  - but there are a few, and I want one just because I think they're neat, a monument to that lovely human vision that looks at terrible weapons and somehow sees glossy-leaved trees with bright fruit.

4. The Monster Trees

Citrus are usually grown via grafting. That is, you plant a seed from a fast-growing sturdy breed, you let it grow roots and all that, and then you cut the top off and replace it with a branch from a more delicious breed. The two citruses grow together, and you end up with a tree that's disease and cold resistant in the roots, below the graft, but makes tasty fruit above the graft.

Occasionally, this process goes Wrong. 

The first recorded instance is the tree called Bizarria, discovered in 1640. Someone attempted to graft a sour orange branch onto a citron. But instead of a clean line between sour orange branches and citron roots, the graft was damaged somehow, and the two different species of cells got tangled and mixed through the whole tree. It has branches that produce citron fruit. It has branches that produce sour orange fruit. And it has branches that produce, uh ... these:

(Photo by Labrina)

Most graft chimeras are made accidentally, when the graft site is damaged. Trifoliate orange is often used as rootstock, so there are many reported chimeras involving trifoliate orange and a nicer fruit. The mixed-up cells can be arranged a lot of ways, but it's possible to have the outside layer of the tree be trifoliate orange, and the core of the tree be the other citrus (periclinal chimera). This means you could theoretically get a tree with frostproof trifoliate leaves and branches, but fruit that doesn’t taste like burnt plastic rolled in quinine.

This lucky monstrosity has, in fact, reportedly happened. Twice. There is the Prague Citsuma, discovered in a greenhouse in Prague and suspected to have been created by a Soviet breeding program. And then there is the Hormish, discovered in China and thought to have been made by frostbite messing up the clean lines of the graft. The Blue Haired Girlfriend has managed to track down budwood from the Prague Citsuma - I’m so excited! - so we'll see how the fierce thorny monster tree with a heart of gold, or at least heartwood of gold, does for us.

5. Conclusion

Humans have been trying to grow citrus trees where they don't belong for nearly two thousand years, at least since the Jewish Diaspora and people trying to grow holy etrog trees - trunks gnarled as barnacle stones and the whole tree scented like the best dream you can't remember - in Europe. Maybe longer.

The Blue Haired Girlfriend's citrus-breeding schemes aren't going to singlehandedly transform Canada into a net citrus exporter. But history shows us: it might be possible to have a little gleaming sweetness from the stony ground here, with the ravens and the fir trees and the auroras. A sweetness we made ourselves, that exists nowhere else. 

Or maybe we'll just have a bunch of weird inedible fruit. I don't know, but it's worth finding out, worth weaving together leaf and thorn and stone and the light of our hands as the years unwind. Worth it to have a quixotic project we can expect to spend decades on together, hands and hearts. This is how home is made, sometimes, with a balcony full of angry thorny little trees that shout swears at passerby.

[trentaafcsblog]

Midnight Memories

Mason Mount

This isn’t like him at all. Trapped in a crowd of drunk and disorderly people who are staggering around to the beat of the music, sloshing their drinks all over one another when the pink and purple strobe lights descend upon their bodies and start flashing in a series of random patterns, enhancing their alcohol-induced illusions and perceptions of the world as they flail their limbs around and claim they’re flying or walking on clouds - a stage that Mason isn’t willing to reach tonight, or any night, for that matter. 

A sea of girls in overly tight dresses and heels that barely support them crowding around him and slurring things in his ear. Running their fingers up his bare arms and begging for another drink as he awkwardly shakes his head and tries to break away from them, only for another person to grip onto him from the other side and smear their cheap sticky lipgloss all over his neck in an attempt to add ‘I kissed a footballer’ to their CV. “Just kiss meee” they whine, pouting in his face and trying to pull him closer before giving up and making a move on the next available man, one who’s willing to explore their mouths and buy them endless rounds of multicoloured shots for the rest of the night without gently shoving them away or not-so-subtly avoiding their alcohol-coated lips.

This isn’t your type of place either, although you’re five cocktails deep into the stack of pornstars that your friends insisted on ordering. A stain down the front of your white bodycon dress thanks to an escapee half a passion fruit that decided to leave your triangular glass in order to explore the vomit-tainted floor. Your lips all patchy now that your lipgloss has migrated to decorate the rim of your empty glasses with sparkly nude smudges, although you’re slightly relieved because it means that your hair won’t get coated in it anymore, and it minimises the evidence if you end up kissing someone too, not that you came here to do that, or risk putting yourself in the same category as the girls that are now trying to climb into the VIP section with a bunch of semi-famous people, all because they want a drunk kissing video to plaster across their social media, hoping that it takes them to the front of the papers in the morning for being such-and-such’s ‘mystery girl’.

You’re looking up at the VIP area cordoned off by security guards in black puffer jackets and walkie talkies in their hands, feeling an overwhelming sense of empathy for all of the people that have to tolerate that kind of behaviour. Your eyes start scanning across the section of the club that is far too expensive for just a few hours’ stay, wondering if you can recognise any famous faces, but it’s just the ‘I lasted one day in the Villa and still managed to secure a Pretty Little Thing brand deal’ Love Islanders and the friend of the friend of the friend of a semi-professional footballer that made one twelve minute appearance for Arsenal back in 2010 and thinks he’s God’s gift. All of them either eating each other’s faces or taking boomerangs of them cheers-ing their margaritas before having to retake the same video five times because they’ve lost several lime slices in the process and it’s ruining the aesthetic. Your focus sharpening on someone with their back to you and at least ten girls around them, taking it in turns to have a drunken selfie or begging him to buy them a bottle of champagne with one of those fancy sparkler things on the top that gets brought out by women wearing elaborate carnival-inspired feather headbands and very revealing dresses. And you can’t help but feel sorry for him because you can tell just from the back of his head that he’s incredibly uncomfortable, even more so when he gets offered a blowjob from a girl who’s now threatening to get her boobs out in exchange for a whole bottle of Don Julio, in a bucket of ice, just how she likes it.

He’s turning around to face the rest of the club just as you go to look away at the menu that’s being wafted under your nose by one of your friends, and you can’t help but do a double take at his familiarity. Squinting your eyes so that you can get a better look at his features. ‘Nice drink’ you think when your eyes catch the glass of Diet Coke in his hand, quite obviously not accompanied by a swig of vodka going by his incredibly tense frame and stiff dance moves. Well, it’s not really dancing, it’s more of a ‘I’ll just copy what my friends are doing so I don’t look awkward’ move, aka a two-step shuffle from one side to the other. You can’t help but giggle as you watch him from across the room, your friends completely giving up on trying to entice you with a selection of expensive cocktails as they leave you to stare at some random man on the other side of the club, their need for a second stack of bright coloured drinks clearly overriding the want to look out for their friend.

You’re watching him for a bit longer. Becoming completely fixated on this familiar stranger who you can’t help but sit and giggle at. Part of you wanting to cringe with him at how hellish this night has become, but at the same time, it’s kind of funny watching someone who should be so used to having a large following blush and laugh awkwardly if anyone happens to recognise him. Okay, maybe it’s slightly uncomfortable to sit and watch a swarm of girls attack him with their overdrawn lips whilst he does everything in his will to not shove them into next week, especially when his friends start laughing and taking little videos of the awkward encounters, clearly ready to embarrass him at a later date. But regardless, it’s nice to know that fame hasn’t gone completely to his head, unlike an ex-reality TV star who’s screaming ‘do you know who I am?’ at one of the bouncers who won’t let her hang out with her ‘friends’ in the VIP section.

But you’re quickly forced out of your trance when you feel somebody shoving something into your hand. Looking down at your palm and clocking the ten pound note before your eyes are lifting to the hand that it’s been given from. “Go and get us those cocktails” your friend slurs before slumping back in her seat and falling to one side slightly, her pink lipstick slathered all over her chin from where she’d tried to apply it without a mirror when a man wearing an extremely tight fitting top happened to settle down in the booth next to you, obviously hoping that he’d look her way. “Hurry up, I’m thirstyyy” your other friend whines, making you sigh and mutter something under your breath in reference to them being lazy and ruining your evening, as you slide out of the row of pink arched seats and stand up. Having to grip onto the back of the chairs when your legs go all warm and fuzzy from the one too many cocktails you’d already consumed, pulling your dress down to a more appropriate length before heading off in the direction of the bar. Trying to catch a glimpse of Mason as you swerve in and out of the sea of dancing bodies, but you just end up feeling as though you’re going to fall to the floor when the strobe lights start spinning on the ceiling before dispersing their blue and green beams around the room at the most ridiculous speed. Everybody around you swaying from side to side and elbowing you in the ribs as you try your best to dodge them, kicking yourself for wearing the most stupid pair of heels as your toes crush into each other more and more with each step, cursing when you skid in a puddle of what looks like - or at least you hope is - vodka, and you have to grab onto a stranger’s arm to steady yourself, much to their dismay until they catch a glimpse of your apologetic face and suddenly want to make out with you.

You’re breathing a sigh of relief when you finally make it to the bar, setting your bag down on the counter and ordering what you think your friends want, although you probably should have double-checked with them first considering you were too busy having a nosy at someone across the club to pay any sort of interest to their alcohol preferences. “What?” you’re shouting at the barman when he tells you the total of the drinks, hoping that you’ve misheard him but ten pounds clearly isn’t going to cover the cost of sixteen cosmopolitans with added shots of vodka. Panicking when he repeats the price and turns his back to get started on making them, your hands now frantically searching your bag in the hope that you manage to find the extra money before he starts yelling at you for ordering things without being able to pay. “Fuck” you’re hissing as you turn the contents of your bag out onto the countertop, checking the inside of your phone case and a pressed powder incase they happen to house the remaining money. Your heartbeat pounding louder in your ears the closer it gets to having to admit that you’ve actually only got a quarter of what you need. 

“I’ll get it” someone’s saying, clearly sensing the tension between you and the barman as you shrug your shoulders in response to him sticking his hand out for the money. “I’m not a charity” you snap back, your slightly tipsy state giving you a rush of confidence as you continue to search your bag in the hope that the money has magically appeared just so that you can laugh it off and shut everyone up. “I know, but it’s on me” they’re saying again, leaning forward and tapping their card on the machine before you can even consider fighting back a second time. “Thank-” you’re starting before realising who it is that’s just saved you from an incredibly awkward situation. Surely not. Surely Mason Mount hasn’t just bought you, of all people, a load of cocktails for your mates.

“It’s okay” he laughs nervously, making your heart melt because clearly he’s just as awkward around you as he is everybody else in this club. “Prices have gone up, haven’t they?” he smiles as he takes a step closer to you, propping himself up on the countertop with his elbows before asking the barman for a lemonade, with ice, just so it isn’t too fizzy. “Yeah, I don’t normally come out so I underestimated it a bit” you laugh shyly before looking off in the other direction, simultaneously cursing and thanking your friends for leading you to believe that you could get sixteen cocktails for a tenner, because without their stupidity, you wouldn’t be talking to the boy that you’ve been watching all night. “Prefer to stay at home then?” he asks as you turn back and nod your head. “Me too” he’s saying, “I’m normally in bed by now” he giggles as his gaze rises to the clock above the bar, the time reading 00.04am. The slight dark glow under his eyes letting you know that he’s normally tucked up by 9pm in his pyjamas. “What are you doing here then?” you ask. Stupid question really. He’s here for the same reason that you, and probably half of the people here, are - he’s been dragged along and forced to pretend that he’s a right party animal whilst he sips his non-alcoholic drinks and fights off every woman in sight. “My mates made me tag along, I’m kind of glad they did now though” he’s telling you, the second part of his sentence almost becoming inaudible as his voice quietens just as the volume of the music rises with the chorus of ‘My Yé Is Different’, ironic since you’ve just spotted the twenty grand watch decorating his wrist whilst you’re stood there in a passion fruit stained dress. But you’re still managing to hear it, and you can’t work out whether that’s in reference to you, or the fact that he’s been able to drink fizzy drinks when he’d normally only have water. Except you’re not stupid. 

“Bet you say that to everyone” you tease, gaining his attention again as he laughs nervously and shakes his head. “Only the special ones” he replies, which is true, but now you can’t help but wonder if his drinks have been accompanied by a few shots of something or another because those words and the sincerity of his tone aren’t a reflection of the awkward man you spotted ten minutes ago, let alone the fact that he clearly considers you to be one of these ‘special ones.’ “Yeah, yeah” you’re saying back, flicking your hair over your shoulder before taking a sip of one of the cocktails that are sat before you, still waiting to be taken back to your friends. “Got quite a few drinks for somebody that doesn’t go out much, no wonder you needed me to pay” he winks as you roll your eyes and blush at the thought of somebody having to give you a helping hand with the price. “This is my last one, I’m off in a minute cose I can’t keep up with everyone else” you’re shouting over the music, watching him throw his head back and laugh because he thought he was the only one in that position. “I’ll join you” he’s replying, thanking the barman for his drink before taking a sip through the straw. “Not the sort of thing you say to a girl after only knowing her two minutes, Mason” you’re teasing, studying his face as his eyes blow wide slightly and he shakes his head, quickly swallowing his lemonade before stuttering on his words. Unsure whether he’s panicking about you jokingly misinterpreting his comment, or if he’s uncomfortable over the fact that yet another girl knows his name, but either way, he’s laughing awkwardly when you tell him that you’re only messing. 

“I wouldn’t mind though” you say smugly, causing another nervous giggle to escape his lips. Your alcohol-induced confidence only adding to the butterflies that are already batting their wings against his rib cage, something about your slight feistiness and sarcastic sense of humour attracting him to you, even more so when he takes in how beautiful you still look despite being on the verge of your alcohol limit.

“Where are you going afterwards?” he’s asking once the lights have swivelled around in the opposite direction and the blush on his cheeks isn’t so evident. “I’ll just go to the chippy down the road and then get a taxi home” you’re telling him, looking down into the fluorescent pink concoction in your glass and feeling your stomach churn at how rough it’s going to make you feel in the morning. “Mind if I join you?” he’s asking as you look across at him in disbelief, watching as he downs the last few sips of his drink and stands the glass back on the countertop. Is this a dream or something? “Sorry, that was a bit forward...again” he panics, feeling a surge of anxiety run through his body incase he’s greeted with newspaper headlines in the morning about him unintentionally trying to latch onto girls that aren’t interested in him, even if half of the club know his name. 

“No, it’s fine, of course you can” you laugh, your cocktail glass almost slipping out of your grip thanks to the layer of sweat that is now developing across your palm. “I’ll just take these over to the girls and then I’ll be ready” you smile, looping the strap of your bag over your shoulder and grabbing as many glasses as you can, which really isn’t a wise move since you’ve partially lost all sense of coordination thanks to Mason’s ability to wipe any drop of confidence out of your body and replace it with nervous butterflies. 

“I’m off” you’re announcing once you’ve made your third trip back to the booth your friends are sitting in, their drunken reactions to your words making you giggle as you reach over them to grab your jacket. “Where are you goinggg?” one of them whines, gripping onto your leg and pouting before another one is drawn to the verge of tears at your confession. “I’m just tired” you nod, blowing them all a kiss and ensuring that they text you when you’re home as you turn around and head off towards the exit, not wanting to keep Mase waiting any longer. Praying that he’s stood just around the corner outside as he’d promised as you stagger across the dance floor and dodge a sea of flailing limbs and slurred shouts of ‘can I get your number?’. A sigh of relief forcing itself out of your nostrils when the ‘exit’ sign hanging above one of the fire doors becomes within touching distance and the bouncer in charge anticipates your departure, pushing down the grey bar across the middle of the door and letting it swing open, enabling you to step out into the night.

“There you are” you smile as you approach the back of his figure, his head kept down and a cap adding a nice accessory to his outfit, although it’s definitely worn as some form of disguise. “Hi” he’s smiling nervously when he realises that it’s you, a swarm of butterflies invading his tummy again when you link your arm through his and gently rest your head on the top of his shoulder - a move that you’re aware might push you into the same category as the other girls that have been after him all night, but your crippled feet and wobbly legs are grateful for the extra stability, even if your motivation to make that move takes you both by surprise. 

“Let me get this” you’re saying once you’ve made your way into the kebab shop, your arm dropping away from his as you gesture towards the table up against the front window. “You sure?” he’s asking, dipping his hand into his back pocket ready to pull his wallet out just incase, but you’re nodding and confirming that you’re more than capable of paying four-pound-fifty for a kebab and a couple of drinks - just as well really after the events earlier this evening. Giving him a small smile as he turns and heads off towards the table in the corner, his celebrity instincts kicking when he takes the seat right in front of the glass, conveniently covered by a sticker of the menu, and some extra protection offered from the back of his body. 

You’re setting the gold foam kebab box down on your table for two, along with two plastic forks, a bottle of water and a Fruit Shoot because you noticed him eyeing them up in the fridge when you came in. And it turned out to be one of the hardest decisions of your life trying to work out what flavour he wanted. Maybe it was the alcohol that was messing with your brain, making you think that he was more of an citrus guy than a berry one. Or maybe it was the fact that you were buying a child’s drink for a fully grown adult, a famous one too, who probably hasn’t had one for ten years, which only added to the pressure. Or maybe it was because you liked him and you didn’t want to ruin your chances by getting him the wrong flavour. But after flicking your gaze between the stack of bright coloured bottles and his body cowering away in the corner, you settled for the blackcurrant one, just because he looks like the type of person to play it safe - well, he is the type of person to play it safe, going by his Diet Coke and lemonade choices tonight. 

“This for me?” he’s asking as he picks the purple bottle up, smiling when you nod to confirm his answer. “How did you know this was my favourite flavour?” he’s questioning, a smug look appearing on your face as you shrug your shoulders and reply with ‘only the ‘special ones’ know that kind of information’. A giggle escaping his mouth at your words before he’s pulling the plastic lid off the drink and taking a sip, humming at the familiarity despite not having one since his seventh birthday party. “Still as good as they used to be” he’s saying, something about the additional happiness that’s now surging through his body after a drop of blackcurrant juice making your tummy fill with butterflies because he really is just the cutest, biggest child.

You’re both sitting in a comfortable silence as you pick at your shared kebab, trying to eat from separate ends so that you don’t cross any boundaries or run the risk trying to stab your forks into the same piece of chicken. But the fuzzy filter that the alcohol has brought to your eyes and the slight delay that it’s caused between your thoughts and your actions means that you find yourself diving into the last piece of pitta bread just at the same time that Mason does. And from his side it’s a poor judgement call. The sugar from his Fruit Shoot clearly giving him an extra boost of energy and causing his arm to extend outwards towards the polystyrene box, clouding his mum’s reminder that ‘you need be a gentleman and let girls eat whatever’s left, even if you want it’. And truth be told, he doesn’t really want it, which is why the pang of anxiety as soon as his plastic fork clashes with yours is stronger than ever. His cheeks turning a violent shade of crimson as he quickly pulls his fork back, leaving just four little holes from where the prongs had been as you panic and do the same.

“Sorry, no you have it” he says quietly, nudging the box towards you in the hope that you get the hint. “No, you eat it” you smile, pushing it back towards him. The two of you just repeating the same movement as the box moves two centimetres one way, and then two centimetres back the other. “Mason, just eat it!” you whine as he sits opposite you and shakes his head. “I said you could have it” he smiles nervously, subtly wiping the sweat off his palms and onto the material of his jeans when he realises that you’re staring straight into his eyes. “Why are you getting all nervous for? Just eat ittt” you groan, a giggle escaping his lips because there’s no way you’re backing down on this one. “Fine” he huffs, stabbing his fork back into the little holes that it made earlier before slowly moving it towards his mouth. Your eyebrows raising more and more as you watch it edge closer to his lips. And then he’s doing the unthinkable and quickly changing the direction of his fork so that it starts heading towards your mouth instead. Involuntarily parting your lips whilst you wait for what’s just happened to register, and the next thing you know, you’re swallowing the piece of pitta bread. 

“What a fuss about nothing” he hums as you roll your eyes at him. “You’re quite romantic, aren’t you?” you tease as his eyebrows furrow in the middle, waiting for you to clarify your comment. “Is that all of the alcohol that’s made you so desperate to share the last piece of food with me?” you question, another layer of blush painting itself across the tops of his cheeks. “Oh, sorry, you didn’t have anything to drink, did you? Lightweight” you smirk, making him roll his eyes this time. “I’m just being a gent, plus you’ve been drinking so you need something to sober you up, maybe it’ll stop you being so rude next time I offer to buy you a drink” he says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair. A wave of composure washing over him now that he’s left you slightly speechless and he’s matched your sense of humour. “Next time? You’ll be lucky” you sass as he scoffs at you. “You’re the one that needs to buy me a drink to apologise for snapping at me, so there will be a next time to call it quits, thank you” he smiles, his sudden burst of confidence talking to you allowing his real personality to shine through, and you can’t help but start to get lost in it. “Was I really that rude?” you ask, secretly dying as you think back to your ‘I’m not a charity’ comment at the bar. “No, I’m just messing” he laughs, eliciting the same response from you as you erase that memory out of your brain. “You’re just confident, I like it” he’s saying, the last part of his comment getting lost when a group of people come staggering through the door, drowning out his words for the second time tonight, but you’re ninety-nine percent certain you managed to catch it. And now you’re the nervous one.

You’re quickly moving the conversation on to something else when you feel your chest starting to heat up with anxious prickles. Mason going all funny inside because it’s clear that he has the same effect on you as you do him, but he’s trying to push that to the back of his mind as he listens to you rambling on about your favourite breed of dogs, and how you had a fish finger sandwich for tea before you came out tonight, and how you actually know quite a lot about football but you’re reluctant to bring it up because you don’t want to embarrass him, although your drunken state causes you to let a few football facts slip out, all of them relating to Mase but you’re too caught up in your fuzzy alcoholic state to even recognise. But he does, obviously. Finding it sweet how you know exactly how many appearances he’s made for Chelsea, and what minute he came on in his debut against Manchester United, and what colour boots he wore against last season’s match against Newcastle. Just sitting back and letting you talk in between the occasional swig of water, hardly being able to get a word in edgeways because the alcohol is well and truly running through your veins now, making you come out with all kinds of mismatched comments and slurs. But he doesn’t mind, which takes him by surprise a bit, especially as he’s secretly scared of drunk people and he can count the amount of times he’s felt a bit tipsy on one hand, but there’s something different about you. Maybe it’s your sense of humour and how you’ve got him in stitches, or how your drunken state leads you to be more concerned about the welfare of a stray cat outside than it does anything else on the planet, or maybe it’s how deep beneath that strong outer shell you’re protecting yourself with that he knows you’ve got a heart of gold, an inside of ‘pure mush’ as his mum would say. 

“What time is it?” you slur after knocking back your last swig of water. “Nearly one o’clock” Mason’s replying, glancing at his overly-expensive watch as you sit there and wonder how he actually knows what hour of the day it is when all of the numbers have been replaced by diamonds. “Better head off” you mumble, staring blankly into the empty kebab box and trying to process what move you need to make next in order to get yourself back home in one piece. “I’ll order you a cab if you want, or I’ll walk you back, I don’t know how far away you live” he’s saying, forcing you out of your trace as you look up at his tired, bloodshot eyes. Knowing full well that as soon as you’re gone he’ll be running home to bed with a glass of water to tone down the bubbles in his tummy from his fizzy drinks, paranoid incase they give him a fizzy version of a hangover. “I live about half an hour away and I can tell you’re ready for bed so I’ll go with the cab” you smile, making him giggle nervously at the fact that his tiredness has been uncovered, although it’s not difficult to pick up on the fact that the only other time he stays up this late is on New Years Eve, and even then he normally sets an alarm for 11.57pm so that he can wake up from his nap in time.

You’re letting him help you put all of your belongings back into your handbag after you insisted on showing him your favourite lipgloss midway through your earlier conversation. Linking your arm through his and stepping out into the coldness of the night, a breeze nipping across your legs and causing you to let out a little squeal as you start pulling your dress down to try and hide your goosebumps. “Here” Mason’s saying, taking his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders. “Mase” you’re replying. Mase - he likes that, and he likes how naturally it’s left your mouth too. Trying to give it back to him but he’s adamant that you keep it. “Gives me another reason to see you in order to get it back” he winks, making you roll your eyes as you stand snuggled into his side on the edge of the pavement. 

“Did you want my number?” he’s asking, already taking his phone out of his pocket and holding it out in your direction before you even have chance to respond. “You’ve not really given me an option have you?” you laugh, making him giggle as he shuffles awkwardly from side to side, waiting for your digits to appear on the screen. “Only because I need to give your jacket back, there’s no other reason for this” you tell him, smiling as he nods his head but you both know that’s a little white lie. “There you go” you’re saying, passing his phone back to him as his eyes study the new contact in his hand. A new number written beneath Y/N. 

‘Shit’ he’s thinking. He didn’t even ask for your name before this. Awkward. 

“Pretty name” he smiles, trying to play it off cool, but you’re not drunk enough to not notice his mistake. “So pretty that you didn’t even know that’s what I was called until now” you reply, making him giggle and let out an awkward ‘oops’. “I’ll let you off this once” you’re saying as you look up at him stood beneath the lamppost that’s towering above the two of you. A golden glow adding a filter to his face and making him look even more gorgeous than he did when he was sipping his lemonade in the club and shoving lettuce and chicken into his mouth. And you’re desperate to just kiss him, especially since he’s got a bit of dried Fruit Shoot in the corner of his mouth and you know his lips will taste all sweet like they do in the movies. But considering he’s only just learnt your name you don’t think it’s the right time, and there’s also a bunch of Tottenham fans making their way up the street, not wanting to have to make him endure any teasing, especially when he’s already stayed up late in a part of town he wouldn’t usually be seen dead in to spend time with you. 

“Thanks for tonight” you whisper as you briefly rest your head on his shoulder, pulling it away when the taxi he’s ordered for you appears at the side of the curb. “My pleasure, thank you” he’s saying back, removing his protective hand from the small of your back and stepping forward to open the back door of the car for you. “Told you that you were a gent” you tease as he mumbles ‘shut up’ and pretends to shove you into the back seat with a giggle. “See you soon for that jacket, yeah?” he winks as you reply with ‘yeah yeah, whatever’, making him let out a little chuckle as he closes the door on you. Giving you an awkward little wave as you head off down the street, standing and waiting for your car to turn the corner before heading home himself. Leaving just a message of ‘thank you again, can’t wait to get my jacket back cose it’s freezing without it ;) x’ that’s just appeared on your screen connecting the two of you. And even if you have been slightly tipsy tonight and now can’t remember half of the things you spoke about, there genuinely doesn’t seem like a better person to sit in a kebab shop with in the early hours of the morning after stumbling across him by pure chance a club that neither of you particularly wanted to spend the night at. Thanking your lucky stars for allowing your paths to cross because you already know this is the start of something special. Very special.

[delimeful]

Helpless (3)

warnings: misunderstandings, spiders/arachnophobia, mild violence

-

Halfway through the woods, Patton heard the distinct sound of someone mumbling.

He paused mid-step, tilting his head to listen with a fair bit of curiosity. The mumbling was quiet enough that he couldn’t make out any individual words, but he could more or less tell which direction it was coming from.

Whatever the source was, they sounded a little frustrated.

He hesitated. Virgil was always emphasizing how careful Patton needed to be in the woods, though how much of that was due to actual danger and how much was the drider being a worrywart over Patton’s ‘chronic inability to defend himself’, he wasn’t sure.

Either way, this didn’t sound like a dangerous wild animal, so it would probably be okay to take a little detour and see what the matter was!

He followed the noise off the trail into a thick copse of trees, eventually coming upon intricate silvery threadwork that wound between them. He was proud to say he only barely shuddered as he ducked past them, his fear of spiders mostly overcome by his affection for his friend.

The webbing got thicker the further he went, and eventually he came upon the source of the mumbling, which appeared to be a whole person, stuck against the outer edge of one of Virgil’s larger webs.

They looked up upon spotting him, eyes bright for a moment before taking him in and visibly dulling with disappointment, which, aside from sorta hurting Patton’s feelings, seemed an odd response for someone in need of help.

“Hello there,” he greeted, waving. “My name’s Patton, I live over at the nearby town. You seem to be in a bit of a prestickament!”

“No, I did this myself,” the stranger corrected, already looking past Patton with disinterest. “It is an attempt to meet with someone I would like to speak with, and they seem the skittish sort, so I would appreciate it if you moved on.”

Patton hummed, more than a little confused. Something about this seemed familiar. “What are you going to do if this person doesn’t show up, though?”

“My arms are free,” they responded, frowning at Patton’s persistence as they wiggled the fingers of their free hand demonstrably. The other hand was occupied with a worn-looking journal. “I will be able to eat and drink, and thus am in no danger.”

“My friend says these woods can get mighty cold at night,” Patton countered, undeterred. “Can’t you meet your friend in town, instead? Why does it have to be a drider’s web?”

And, oh, that was it! Virgil had just been telling him the other day about someone who’d gotten stuck in one of his webs just like this, a mage who had been all-too-delighted to see him. Patton had hardly registered how they’d met, since he’d mostly been very upset to learn that some people would try to use his friend’s body parts as potions ingredients.

“That’s because the drider is the one I’m hoping to speak with,” the stranger replied, as though it should be obvious. “I sincerely doubt they would appreciate an invitation to town.”

Patton stared at the little notebook for a moment, and abruptly put the pieces together. This must have been the stranger that freaked Virgil out so badly!

And he was lying in wait in one of Virgil’s webs… In that case, there was no way he could leave things like this.

“I don’t think the drider is around,” he offered cheerily. “Sometimes they migrate to different areas for different seasons! You won’t meet anyone while hanging around, so I’ll help you down!”

He circled around the tree where most of the webs were rooted, approaching the stranger’s edge of webbing, and found to his surprise that they really were stuck. How they planned to ambush Virgil while stuck in a web, he wasn’t sure, especially since the gambit hadn’t worked on the first attempt either. Magic, maybe?

“How do you know that?” the stranger asked, craning to look at him with sudden interest. “About drider migration cycles.”

Patton shrugged as he plucked at the threads of the web, testing each one to see where they led. “I’m a good listener, so I pick things up here and there. What do you do?”

It seemed to be the right question to ask, since the stranger perked up, distracted from his inquiry.

“I am a researcher,” they informed Patton. “I’m seeking out information on the more reclusive creatures that live in these lands, like driders! This is the first one that I’ve met in person, so if they’re leaving, I need to catch up right away.”

Patton slid the sheath off of the little paring knife he’d taken to carrying and started sawing at one of the threads. “Are you going to try to capture him?” he asked, keeping his voice as even as he could. “You know, for your research.”

“I’m not a bounty hunter,” they replied indignantly. “The behavior of any being would be unnatural and stilted while imprisoned, especially a sapient one. My research is meant to increase humanity's understanding of driders, not to put them on display for entertainment.”

Patton blinked at them, slicing through another strand. “You… aren’t looking to hurt them?”

“No!” They honestly sounded offended by the idea. “I don’t think I ever could, anyhow, the one I met was very large, and they would likely be able to incapacitate me without any trouble.”

“Weren’t you scared?” Patton asked, remembering the terror that had swept through him during that first encounter, when he’d thought the drider was a giant creepy crawly death dealer. Even after he realized, when Virgil yoinked him with his two front legs, Patton had been a little nervous.

“People are only scared of what they don’t understand,” they informed him, chin lifted stubbornly, “and I know more about driders than any other human. I don’t see any reason to be afraid.”

“Wow… You’re really passionate about this, huh?” Patton grinned as he sliced through the last of the support webbing, and with a few snaps, the researcher fell to the ground, only a few strands of silk clinging to them.

“Of course!” they replied, pausing to pull some of the softer webbing bits off of himself and folding them into a pocket of his bag. “The information compiled on them is often vague or outright misleading, and due to their reclusiveness and occasional aggression, nobody else has been able to correct these false accounts.”

They paused, studying the woods around them. “I am… uncertain on how I’m going to discern which area the drider has chosen to migrate to. I don’t suppose you have any idea?”

Patton patted their shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. I think there’s a friend of mine you should meet properly.”

—

“Virgil!” Patton called brightly. “I’m here!”

He had been leading the way through increasingly dense and shadowy foliage for a fair while, now. Logan glanced up from their connected hands to see exactly where he was being pulled to, his heartbeat picking up in speed despite the possibility that this was a cruel prank or even a mugging.

Sure, Patton had described the drider that he’d met a couple of days ago quite accurately, but that was no assurance that he was actually familiar with the being. Most of the townsfolk seemed peripherally aware of ‘Virgil’’s presence, after all, so Patton could have glimpsed him before. It seemed more likely than them being friends. Driders were notoriously solitary, and ‘Virgil’ had seemed quite averse during Logan’s encounter with him, after all.

There was a crack from above, like a branch snapping.

In the next moment, a heavy weight had dropped down from above, knocking Logan to the ground and forcing all the air from his lungs. As he gasped futilely, he realized there were two hands pinning his arms to the ground, and some very familiar fangs put on full display, mere inches from his face.

“Leave him alone,” a very angry drider demanded, his regular voice layered with harsh, gravely rattling.

Logan wheezed in response, absently noting that there were multiple small black eyes visible against the dark marks under the more human set of eyes and wondering just how the two different ocular sensory organs overlapped.

“Virgil, stop!” Patton’s hands appeared at the edge of Logan’s vision, pushing back against Virgil’s shoulders until he eased up, lifting his crouched spider half up only slightly, as though prepared to lunge at Logan again at any moment. “He’s fine! He won’t hurt you!”

Virgil’s glare finally flicked away, though it turned more bewildered-angry than murderous-angry once landing on Patton. Logan wasn’t sure, but he thought the smaller eyes remained locked on him. “This is the mage I told you about! It’s not safe, you need to get out of here--,”

“Mage?” Logan asked, his voice still coming out a little winded. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s not,” Patton said at nearly the same time, “I promise, he just wants to know more about you! Right, Logan?”

“I’m certainly not a mage,” he agreed, rubbing at his arm. The full force of a drider grabbing him… that was going to bruise. He wondered if there was a way to measure that power. “I’m not sure how you got that impression, I don’t have any of the tools mages often carry.”

Virgil looked back and forth between the two humans with clear consternation, and Patton was the one who answered. “Well, most people are afraid at just the sight of him. And… you weren’t.”

“Of course not,” Logan said, still trying to grasp the connection between his lack of fear and his alleged magehood. “I was enthralled. He’s very beautiful.”

Above him, Virgil made a choked-off noise and shuffled back, giving Logan space to sit up and regain full faculty of his senses. Virgil had turned his face away, and Patton was muffling a smile behind his hand.

“Was that… invasive?” Logan asked hesitantly, glancing between the two of them. “I apologize, this is my first research voyage, so I may have become... over-enthusiastic.”

Virgil flapped a hand at him, as though trying to physically dispel his words. “What exactly does a ‘research voyage’ entail?”

Logan straightened up, trying to look as professional as possible while still sitting on the forest floor. He suspected there might be detritus in his hair. “It’s a journey undertaken by apprentice-level researchers to expand their knowledge in their specific field. Often, once they have thorough evidence and a compelling thesis, they will return to their teacher and present this in order to advance as a journeyman.”

Of course, Logan had no intention of doing that. He was going to spend as long as he could traveling and learning and compiling his knowledge, until nobody could argue that he wasn’t suited to the world of scholars.

“And your field is… spiders? Monsters?” Virgil asked, eyebrows raised dubiously.

“I am attempting to correct the misconceptions that are so rampant in bestiaries,” Logan corrected. “So many depend on them, but I’ve found very few actually capture the intricacies of the cultures and habits of nonhuman magical beings. They read more like old wives’ tales, passed down and warped with time, and both the scientific community and the beings in question suffer for it.”

“Huh.” Virgil tilted his head slightly, and Logan realized that at some point his smaller eyes had closed, the dark creases vanishing amidst the pockets of shade under his eyes.

“That sounds like the bestiary way to help people!” Patton added, and Logan watched in disbelief as Virgil’s expression relaxed further, the drider snorting softly.

“So all I’d have to do is… be a drider in front of you?” he asked, one of his back legs tapping against the ground in a remarkable imitation of the way a nervous human might tap their foot. Logan nodded. “I guess… it could work. And it’d be nice to have someone else around who won’t scream at the sight of me.”

“New friend!” Patton cheered, looking perhaps more delighted at the idea than Logan’s presence really warranted. “Only the spidaring are cool enough to be friends with Virgil.”

“Is the wordplay going to be a regular thing with him?” Logan asked, his face pinching sourly.

“Better get used to it. He’s punstoppable,” Virgil replied, grinning toothily when Logan shot him a betrayed look. Logan thought he seemed pleased, going by the subtle twitching of his pointy ears.

Logan hid a small smile of his own. Perhaps following Patton wasn't the unwisest decision he'd ever made, after all.

[somerabbitholes]

Indian Non-Fiction

A list of books on India, almost all of which are by Indian writers; most of them are about history in one way or other but they also involve politics, culture, and religion. (Doesn’t include writing in Indian languages because most of my non-English reading has been limited to fiction). I’ve also added links to online editions for ones I found.

History

Pre-, Postcolonial India (+ other assorted history)

Land of Seven Rivers by Sanjeev Sanyal - looks at Indian history through its geography; great if you want an introduction. it’s a small book but has very interesting insights; definitely would recommend. Also check his Ocean of Churn, which looks at Indian history in terms of the Indian Ocean

The Lost River: On the Trail of the Sarasvati by Michel Danino - looks into the research and evidence on the existence of the Sarasvati river and makes a case for its existence

Hooghly: The Global History of a River by Robert Ivermee - about Hooghly as a centre of a trans-Asiatic and trans-oceanic commercial network

Indians: A Brief History of a Civilization by Namit Arora - what it says, it’s new and was well-received; it paints a holistic picture to start you off

Modern South India by Rajmohan Gandhi - this one’s new, and I’ve only barely read it. It’s the history of south India from the coming of the Portuguese to modern times and it’s really important because we don’t study about this or even talk about this in mainstream conversations

India Moving by Chinmay Tumbe - on migration within India and how migrants and migrations has shaped history, politics, and policy

The Courtesan, the Mahatma, and the Italian Brahmin by Manu Pillai - a selection of stories (real ones) from Indian history; very engagingly written and very, very interesting stories. Also check other works by Pillai - The Ivory Throne and Rebel Sultans. He also writes a regular column for the Mint

Panipat by Vishwas Patil - (a translation from Marathi) a history of the Battle at Panipat in 1761, which basically created a vacuum for the East India Company to step in and grab power; really expansive and highly detailed

Rama and Ayodhya by Meenakshi Jain - on the Ramayana and its cultural spread across Indian since the ancient times; also about the Ayodhya movement

Decolonizing the Hindu Mind by Koenraad Elst - lays down the ideological and intellectual development of the broad umbrella Hindu revivalist movement; really good starting point to understand the rise and development of a significant chunk of Indian politics in post-independence years; really straightforward work, very clear in its objectives

1962: the War that Wasn’t by Shiv Kunal Verma - on the Sino-Indian conflict in 1962; haven’t read it yet, but it’s supposed to be one of the best ones on the conflict

1971: A Global History of the Creation of Bangladesh by Srinath Raghavan - on the creation of Bangladesh; places the history in a Cold War context and includes all stakeholders like the US, China and Russia; has multiple layers to its narrative.The Most Dangerous Place by Srinath Raghavan - on American foreign policy in South Asia right from the earliest times.

Cricket Country by Prashant Kidambi - about how cricket took hold in colonial India and the making of the first all-India cricket team; super excited about this book, I added it to my list too

A Corner of a Foreign Field by Ramchandra Guha - on the growth of cricket in India; takes into account race, caste, and religion in pre- and postcolonial times; looks at how the sport was adapted in local cultures and how it became an expression of resistance

Himalaya: A Human History by Ed Douglas - basically what it says; very thorough and very fresh; about more than India because it takes Himalaya as a unit and so it’s really transnational in its approach

Colonial India

Plassey by Sudeep Chakravarti - a very detailed study of the Battle of Plassey which kicked off the colonial project in India

India’s War: World War II and the Making of Modern South Asia by Srinath Raghavan - on India’s involvement and contribution in World War II

An Era of Darkness by Shashi Tharoor - about the economic impact of the British Empire in India; highly elaborate and detailed work on the economic drain in India during colonisation

Goa Inquisition by A. K. Priolkar - about the Portuguese colonisation of Goa and the subsequent evangelical campaign by the Portuguese crown and the Roman church; very, very, thorough and great if you (like me) know nothing about the whole thing

Hicky’s Bengal Gazette by James Otis - on the development and running of India’s first English newspaper; a fun read because honestly the story of the paper is very dramatic and full of political/colonial gossip; also tells you a lot about the early ideas of free press in colonial India

Sati: Evangelicals, Baptist Missionaries, and the Changing Colonial Discourse by Meenakshi Jain - about the discourse on sati and the need for reform; reviews the idea of the abolition of sati being a progressive act

Castes of Mind by Nicholas Dirks - about the intersection of caste, race, and colonial knowledge and policy

Politics, Sociology, Commentaries

The Indian Trilogy by V. S. Naipaul - a semi-autobiographical work on the kind of civilisation Naipaul sees India to be; very, very honest; paints a picture of postcolonial India over the years. the trilogy includes An Area of Darkness, India: A Wounded Civilization, and India: A Million Mutinies Now. I’ve only read the first one; but I’ve heard and read great things about them all

Republic of Caste by Anand Teltumbde - about caste in post-Independence India; looks at political and policy-related developments and their impact on caste dynamics; sort of subaltern history; it is a little difficult to understand if you don’t already have some amount of knowledge on Indian politics; also a very academic work so not exactly easy to read - I’ve only read parts of it myself

Annihilation of Caste by Dr. B. R. Ambedkar - technically a speech that was never delivered because it was thought to be too explosive; argues that caste is rooted in oppression and for the complete destruction of the caste system; an excellent work, although you do need to know about caste in its religious and political terms. Really just read all of his writing (it’s an entire 14 volume set), they’re excellent and far ahead of their time

The Idea of India by Sunil Khilnani - an analysis of sorts of what pre-colonial and colonial society and the freedom struggle mean for the republic and the kind of nation-building that has happened.

A New India of India: Individual Rights in a Civilisational State by Harsh Madhusudan, Rajeev Mantri - rethinks the “idea of India”; traces cultural and historical legacy in making of modern politics, and explores how individual rights are reconciled with the state’s goals; great thing is that it takes a fresh look at things; perfect to be read after The Idea of India 

10 Judgements that Changed India by Zia Mody - recounts ten most important legal cases and court rulings in India; good starting point at understanding how the law works and its development

Republic of Religion by Abhinav Chandrachud - about secularism and religion in India in light of colonial rule, and its implications in postcolonial India

India Unbound by Gurcharan Das - it’s a history from the Independence to 2000 that focuses largely on the political economy and unpacks the kind of growth we’ve seen; it mixes the personal with the political/economic progress and it’s really easy to get into; best when read with his India Grows at Night

People

Kanshiram by Badri Narayan - a biography of Kanshi Ram, who pretty much laid the foundation of modern Dalit political movement in post-independence India; looks into how the movement developed under Kanshi Ram; a useful insight into both the man as well as early Dalit politics in India

Savarkar by Vikram Sampath - first part of a two-part biography (second part isn’t out yet) on V. D. Savarkar, one of India’s first revolutionary freedom fighter; looks at an insane variety of sources and highly detailed; a must read.

History Men by T. C. A. Raghavan - about the friendship of three of colonial India’s first native historians (Sir Jadunath Sarkar, G. S. Sardesai, Raghubir Sinh) and how they collaborated and supported each other in writing Indian history using scientific methods; also looks at their contributions to Indian history in general

Rammohun Roy by Amiya P. Sen - a biography of colonial India’s first social and religious reformers who reinterpreted Hinduism for modern times; very well-written, great for understanding how early reform worked out

Daughters of the Sun by Ira Mukhoty - about women in the Mughal dynasty. note that it only looks at women connected to and part of the royal household, but an interesting read nonetheless. Her other work, Heroines: Powerful Indian Women in Myth and History is a wonderful book on women in history right from the ancient times; also analyses and explains the changing perceptions of women

R. N. Kao: Gentleman Spymaster by Nitin Gokhale - really, really, really interesting book on R. N. Kao and the development of India’s espionage machinery

Art

Indian Art by Partha Mitter - a history, he’s one of the best on Indian art, very useful

The Dance of Shiva by Ananda Coomaraswamy - a collection of essays on Indian artistic tradition in aesthetic and philosophical terms

The Spirit of Indian Painting by B. N. Goswamy - specifically about painting; explores different themes in different regionals tyles; also check other books by Goswamy, he’s kind of a big deal in art history

Indian Painting: the Lesser Known Traditions by Anna Dallapiccola - pretty much what it says; takes into account a ton of styles and traditions that are lumped together ‘folk art’

Cities, Travel etc

The Great Indian Railway Bazaar by Paul Theroux - four-month journey from London to India by trains only; explores themes like colonialism, American imperialism, poverty. One of my favourites

The Epic City by Kushanava Chaudhary - memoir on Kolkata as the author explores and re-discovers the city when he comes back to it after staying in the US for most of his life; a lovely book, delves in the history of Kolkata a little in relation to how the city still feels it, how its people are still negotiating with it, and the kind of future the author sees for Kolkata

Bombay, Meri Jaan by Jerry Pinto & Naresh Fernandes - a collection of essays on Mumbai by a wide collection of people from Naipaul to Khushwant Singh to Manto and Salman Rushdie, compiled by Jerry Pinto; one of my favourites on the city

No Full Stops in India by Mark Tully - writings from when Tully was a journalist in India; commentaries on things he witnesses, also includes a fair amount of personal involvement; explores poverty, postcolonial development, religion and culture in post-independence India

Mumbai Fables by Gyan Prakash - a history of Mumbai city; looks at colonisation, industrial development, the regional politics, architecture and art, as well as the underworld/mafia

Banaras by Diana L. Eck - on Varanasi (Banaras), probably India’s holiest city; tells its history from its conception to now; blends religion, mythology, politics, and history. Also check Eck’s India: A Sacred Geography

The City of Djinns by William Dalrymple - semi-autobiography about living in Delhi; looks at the legacies of independence and partition while thinking about its past

The Book of Indian Journeys by Dom Moraes - it’s an anthology of essays and excerpts from works of a bunch of writers on travelling in India, it’s a favourite when I’m travelling

This is not exhaustive and I will keep updating when I find the time. I’ve tried to keep it diverse (and organised) in its content; hope you find something you like :)

[calpalirwin]

Tranquil Waters

Summary: Bucky finds peace at the aquarium.

A/N: A gift for @jessalyn-jpeg, that was also beta read by her.

Word Count: 1.9k

And away, and away we go!

__

Even with a plain, battered ball cap covering up hair that brushed along the tops of his shoulders, as if he was hoping it would somehow make him inconspicuous, you took notice of him. After all, how many men came alone to an aquarium? How many still could be transfixed by the shark exhibit for hours, sitting on a bench looking up at the tunnel, or leaned against the railing as he peered into the lagoon below? And how many of those men would return day after day, no matter how long he had watched the sharks the day before?

“You know we have a membership,” you told him on his eighth consecutive visit. “Probably cheaper at this point.”

He didn’t say a word, just tilted his head slightly to the side in confusion.

“I mean, if you’re here every day. Might as well. Save yourself a few bucks.”

“Oh,” he said, clearly startled that anyone had picked up on his habit. “Uh…”

“It’s a hundred for the year. Unlimited visits. Come as little as five times a year, and it pays for itself. Come more often than that, and it’s a steal.”

“Is there a payment plan option? I’m uh… it’s weird to explain. I have the money. It’s just a…”

“Budget thing?” you guessed. “Totally get it. Yeah, we have payment options. I can have today’s ticket count towards the pass if you like. Then the bill is monthly, but you can pay it off sooner if you like.”

“Uh, yeah, that’d be great,” he said, giving you a small smile, and laying a twenty dollar bill down.

You pulled open the little drawer that held the passes, selecting one that specifically had sharks on it for him, before scanning it into working order. “Here you are,” you said, handing it over along with his receipt.

“Thanks,” he nodded, turning the card over his hand, the smile still rooted in place. “Sharks, cool. Thanks again…” his eyes flickered down to read your name tag, “Y/N.”

“Enjoy your visit.”

It came as no surprise to you that, after he nodded politely at you again, he headed straight to the shark exhibit. It also came as no surprise to you that he was still there when you made your rounds to clear the aquarium of visitors for the night.

“Sir, we’re closing in ten minutes. So if you wouldn’t mind making your way towards the exit.”

“Oh, is it that time already?” he asked, rising slowly from the bench. You took notice as he stretched out his right arm, but didn’t feel the need to do so with his left.

“Unfortunate, I know. See you tomorrow, sir.”

“Bucky,” he said.

“I’m sorry?”

“My name. It’s Bucky.”

“See you tomorrow, Bucky.”

“See ya tomorrow, Y/N.”

~~~

Four more days of visits, each started with Bucky handing you a twenty dollar bill to put towards his pass, and ending with the two of you bidding each other farewell until the morning.

On the fifth day, out of habit, he walked up to your window, the twenty dollar bill already in hand. “Oh, you’re all paid off, Bucky.”

“Oh… Right… Sorry, force of habit.” His cheeks flushed a soft color of pink. “See you later I guess.”

“Send the sharks my love.”

“Will do.”

As you watched him walk off, you caught sight of the stack of flyers beside you. “Wait!” you called out to him, grabbing one of the flyers.

“Hmm?” he asked, coming back to your window.

“Here,” you said, sliding him the flyer. “We’re hosting a lecture on shark migrating habits.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Is it soon? I haven’t seen anything put up about it.”

“No, it’s happening next month. We just got the flyers this morning. Figured you’d want to know though.”

“Well, thanks for the heads up.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Bucky turned to go visit the sharks, but at the last second he turned back around, a shy look on his face. “You wouldn’t happen to be going to this would you?”

“I am, yeah. I got lucky in that they scheduled it after aquarium hours.”

“Cool… Would you maybe want to go together?”

“As a date?” you asked suggestively.

“Or as two people who share an appreciation for sharks? Whichever reason gets you to say yes.”

You gave a small laugh. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

~~~

Even though you’d seen Bucky daily for nearly two months, you still felt shy flutters in your stomach as you raced to change out of your work polo and khakis, and into something that felt more “first date” appropriate.

When you got back to the aquarium, you spotted Bucky outside waiting, sporting a long-sleeved red henley shirt, and surprisingly no baseball cap. “Hey, Bucky,” you greeted, walking up to him.

“Hey,” he said softly, a hand digging into the pocket of his jeans. “I was going to bring you flowers, but I thought that’d be awkward for you to carry around all night. So, I hope this is an okay replacement.” He took his hand out of his pocket, unfurling his hand to reveal a shark pin resting in his palm, no doubt something he picked out in the gift shop.

“It’s perfect,” you laughed, stretching up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth that flooded his face. “Thank you.”

“Course,” he mumbled, trying to undo the pin with only his right hand. But undoing the pin without using his left hand proved to be difficult.

“Um, it might be easier without the gloves?” you suggested. “Or maybe if you used both hands?”

“Oh, to hell with it,” Bucky grumbled, taking the fingers of his left glove into his mouth, tugging it off to reveal a metal hand. Swiftly, he also took off his right glove, and got the pin undone.

“Wh-what happened?” you questioned as he attached the pin to your blouse, paying special care not to knick you with it.

“War accident,” he answered shortly, quickly putting his gloves back on.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could think to say.

“It was years ago,” he offered as a way of explanation, before jerking his chin in the direction of the aquarium doors. “Shall we?”

You linked your arm through his right arm when he offered it to you, walking into the aquarium and following the small crowd to the theater where the lecture was being held.

Quietly, you and Bucky sat side by side, his hand resting on your thigh as you both listened to the lecture. It was easy to tell when the lecturer said something that Bucky found particularly interesting because his fingers would squeeze into your leg. And anytime you stole a glance, his eyes were shining brightly, a soft smile on his lips. And anytime he caught you staring at him, he’d give you a small wink.

“The aquarium is so different after hours,” Bucky commented, making conversation as you walked out, hand-in-hand after the lecture. “More peaceful somehow.”

“Is that why you like the shark exhibit? It’s usually our quietest area. Certainly less crowded.”

“Nah, I like sharks because they’re misunderstood. Everyone thinks they’re killers. But, they’re just doing what they need to do to survive.”

“Something you can relate to?”

“More than I’d like to, that’s for sure.”

You looked around at all the guests flocking for the exits, an idea forming in your head. “You wanna see something really cool?”

“What’s this really cool thing?” he asked as he let you pull him away from the crowd of people and deeper into the aquarium. His excitement however died down significantly when you pulled him into the security office. “This was the really cool thing?” he asked skeptically.

“Shh,” you said, fixing your focus on the cameras, watching the aquarium empty. “Just wait.”

With a sigh, Bucky watched the monitors with you.

“Annnnd, tada!” you announced as there was a loud sound of the lights shutting off in the building with the exclusion of the security room.

“We’re alone in the aquarium?” he questioned with the same note of skepticism as earlier.

You grinned up at him, nodding. “We’re alone in the aquarium.”

“Can’t we get in trouble for trespassing?”

You pulled your work badge out of your purse, along with a set of keys. “Nope!”

Bucky gave a soft chuckle. “You’re a little troublemaker, aren’t you?”

“You wanna go see the sharks or not?”

“Lead the way.”

~~~

“So,” you started, your voice quiet as you both leaned against the railing, watching the sharks swim in the lagoon below. “Is you liking sharks because you can relate to being misunderstood related to your hand at all?”

“A little. And it’s not my hand. It’s my entire arm.”

“Your entire arm?!” you screeched, turning sideways to look at him fully.

He sighed, turning towards you. He pushed the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow, and pulled at the collar of his shirt to show you how the metal went all the way from fingertips to shoulder. “Yup.”

“Bucky,” you said to yourself. “As in?”

“As in the former Winter Soldier. Yup. Or as in James Buchanan Barnes, but people nowadays tend to not remember that part.”

“Holy shit… Wait. So you’re a fuckin’ Avenger, and you tell me that you spend your free time coming to watch sharks all day?”

“Well, sharks were originally the reason. Now, they’re just an additional perk.”

“I’m not following…”

“Well, I like sharks. Always have even before I could relate to them. But then I got a crush on one of the workers. And as much as I like to think I’m still here for the sharks, I’m also here for her.”

“Oh, you mean me?!”

“I mean I did ask you out on a date.”

“So you admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That this is a date.”

“What else would you call it?”

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe two people who share an appreciation for sharks?” you teased.

Bucky laughed. “Alright. In my defense, I said that to make you not feel bad if you told me no.”

“What made you think I was gonna say no?”

“I’m me. The 100 year old with an extremely complicated past.”

“Mmm, then maybe I should let you in on a secret.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that Miss Troublemaker?”

“I have a soft spot for the misunderstood.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Saying things like that are gonna make me want to kiss you.”

“Saying things like what? Things that suggest I’m just as interested in you as you are in me?”

“Yes.”

“And what if that’s what I wanted? For you to kiss me?”

“Then I’d have to do this.” He stepped forward, his hands gently cradling your face as his head ducked down. You stretched upwards on the tips of your toes, meeting his lips halfway. Underlying the softness of the kiss was a strength you wanted more of. Somehow sensing that want, Bucky deepened the kiss, one hand moving to cup the back of your neck, the other dropping down to rest on the small of your back, pulling you in closer to him.

“That was one hell of a first date kiss,” you gasped when you broke apart, each of you breathless.

“You’re one hell of a girl,” he said, nudging your nose with his and drawing you back in for another kiss.

__

Tag List

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[kyidyl]

Kyidyl Does Archaeology - Part 4

(As before, if you’re only seeing this part 4, the rest of them have the tag KyidylCL)

THE ARTEFACTS

Ok, so I’ve talked about the site and what we’ve been digging in and such, but I’m gonna be honest with you guys: I like lab work exponentially more than field work.  So I am the one who has been processing the vast majority of the finds and ergo have lots of stuff.  That’s why I sometimes make jokes about the stuff in my basement - I’m storing the majority of it here in my basement.  I’ve gotten the question before about ownership, so here is how that works.  The dig is on private land so anything we get technically belongs to the owner of the land.  Now, as far as I know, he has no interest in keeping any of it so it’ll likely end up in the hands of the arch society, who will basically just be custodians of it but not owners.  It might end up in a museum, too.  I don’t really know, but that determination won’t be made until we’re finished, and not by me.  

So every site has its own sort of categories of stuff that you find depending on who lived there (although for ease, archaeologists often categorize this stuff based on location and time - more on that later.).  For our site the majority of it falls into these categories: animal bone, shell, lithics, pottery, charcoal, modern contaminants, and artefacts.  And, to lend a bit of clarity here...lithics are anything made of rock.  So they include fire cracked rocks, flakes from stone tool making, material that was used in construction, material that was crushed to make temper for pottery paste (more on that later, too.), etc.  If it came from a rock it’s a lithic.  

And imma tell you a secret: I hate lithics.  Everyone has their thing, their category of human refuse that they simply do not like.  A prof of mine hated teeth and pottery.  That’s just how it is, and mine is lithics.  I think they’re boring, I can’t tell a flake from a blade, I don’t give a single fuck what material they are, I don’t care about the style or craftsmanship...I just don’t care.  I call them all rocks, and I do it so much that everyone on the site has started accidentally calling them rocks, too, which amuses me.  Rocks, to an archaeologist, means “stone that wasn’t altered or used by people”.  They’re worthless.  Not that I think lithics are worthless - far from it - I just really hate them and this site has so.  goddamned.  many.  Lucky for me, we have a Rock Guy aka someone who really loves lithics and actually has gotten pretty good at flint knapping and just, y’know, is really into rocks.  

And to clarify about artefacts.  When you’re out in the field everything you find is either an artefact or a find.  The collection of these things is called an assemblage.  When you’re doing lab work and sorting through it all later on an artefact is, well...like a thing.  I’m explaining this poorly....it’s a complete object with a specific function.  So, a whole pot = artefact, broken pieces = sherds (not shards, sherds.). Complete arrowhead = artefact, flakes or a broken one = lithic.  Artefacts also tend to be somewhat unique, or at least something you don’t have a lot of.  They don’t always have to be complete, anything that is a specific object can go in here.  Like, for example, this piece of pipe we found: 

To recap, we’ve got pottery, charcoal, lithics, shell, bone (animal - we haven’t found human. But I’m just gonna say bone.), and artefacts.  If you are sensitive to things like that, this is your warning that this post is going to have pictures of animal bone and you should scroll quickly.  

Now, for reference, this is what it all looks like before I clean it and after it’s been dying out for a day or two (the ground has natural moisture, so I basically just open the bags and let them air out.): 

And, yes....I am cleaning them off on an actual antique blotter with real silver edges that my mom gave me for this express purpose.  A factoid I’m only sharing because it amuses me in that sort of “bet they never envisioned this use for this thing” sort of way.  Normally, if I was in a real lab, you’d do this over a metal tray.  When you’re working with an assemblage you never hold it over empty space, you always hold it over the bench and preferably over whatever your work surface is.  That doesn’t mean I haven’t dropped my fair share of stuff anyway, but most of it just lands on the work surface and not the floor, which is why you hold it over a work surface.  But anyway, as you can see, it just looks like a brown, dirty mess.  I usually do a quick sort of the stuff I know for sure what it is and then I wash it with a soft toothbrush and some water.  The rocks I just submerge and swoosh around because they’re rocks and I can’t really damage them and there’s SO FRIKKIN MANY that I refuse to clean them individually.  

So now that you’ve gotten through that long-winded but necessary explanation of terms, where are we at? Since I’m a bioarchaeologist and I prefer things that were once alive to the general detritus of human society, we’re gonna start with the bone.  Specifically, we’re gonna start with how I know those two pits from yesterday’s post are one pit.  This is how: 

This is a deer bone.  Don’t ask me which one bc I’m really not good at ID’ing species and animal anatomy, but it’s a leg bone of some kind.  See how it’s broken? One piece was found in one hole and the other piece was in the other.  Clearly it’s the same animal, ergo the pits are related to each other.  The vast majority of what came out of that particular feature was bone, with the rest being charcoal and the occasional pot sherd.  This means it was probably used for cooking and not as a garbage pit. Also there was food in it, if you recall the cooking accident from yesterday.  but sometimes y’know, stuff falls into the fire pit or it’s put in there as a way of disposing of it.  

But wait, I have more cool animal bones!! 

Ok, so there’s this one: 

This bone has a special place in my heart. IDK what species it is (I *think* it’s a fragment of deer long bone.), but that’s not why it’s cool.  This single bone is strong evidence for the presence of dogs.  =D See that circular mark on the right? That is the impression of a canine tooth from a carnivore.  Human teeth can’t make those marks in bones - our teeth aren’t strong enough to do significant damage to bone, and anyway we tend to crack bones open with rocks (a form of damage called percussion marks.) and not with our teeth.  Those other longer scratch marks are also likely from chewing, not butchery, because they’re in the right places and they’re the right shape.  Now we know this was a settlement, and this bone was found smack in the middle surrounded by human detritus and not on the fringes or outskirts.  There were no domesticated felines in the Americas at the time BC this is from the lower pre-contact level, so what’s really the only carnivore that would be wandering around a human settlement? Dogs.  I love this kinda stuff because it’s so easy see them chilling around the fire pit, talking and eating, teasing whomever it was that spilled dinner, and then tossing the bones to their dogs to gnaw on after dinner.  It’s just such a people kind of thing, you know? All from one small, circular mark.  I actually found more on later bones that came out of other places, so it’s pretty safe to say there were dogs living here with their people even though we have found neither people nor dogs.  

So here’s another cool bone: 

Again, no idea what species it is bc I’m not a zooarch (yes, there are archaeologists that specialize in animals and wooooo boy can they tell you a LOT about migration and eating habits of people.). It’s about the size of half my thumb, IE, not large.  This one is cool, and it’s the only one I have like this, because of that notch you can see vertically in the image on the right hand side.  I don’t know what it was for, but I DO know that it was an intentionally made modification to the bone.  Those striations aren’t natural - natural bone is smooth or has a very specific texture and this isn’t that.  It’s probably not damage done to the bone after it was deposited in the archaeological record.  It has the same patina as the majority of the rest of the bone, which you can compare to the lighter area there on the right hand end of the bone.  That lighter area does not have the patina of age that the rest of the bone does, and is the result of damage in a much more recent time - probably as we were taking it out of the ground.  Small bones are fragile.  So someone gouged this channel intentionally in this bone, either because they were going to use it as decoration or it served some purpose as a tool.  I’m not really sure what though.  Hell, they could have just been bored and fidgeting after eating.  Either way, it’s a human modification to this bone that has nothing to do with cooking or consumption (damage from human consumption is cracks and breaks, not scrapes.).  It could also be a butchery mark, although it’s a bit deep for that.  Butchery marks are there from separation of meat from bone - they’re usually just shallow scrapes.  

Ok, last cool bone I’m gonna show you.  Well, bones, plural.  

Ok so this is part of the same assemblage as the ones above, and if I remember correctly these were the ones that came out of that pit.  You can see the same bone with the canine tooth mark there in the center.  There’s also some interesting things like some pottery on the left and a couple teeth off to the right (one is a deer and I *think* that curved on is a squirrel.), but the really interesting thing is the series of 3 shiny bones that are in the center.  There’s a lot of ways to cook meat, and they all do different things to bones.  You will often find the dry, brown looking ones like you can see here in the non-shiny bones. That’s like...your basic “this bone had meat on it when it was cooked”. Then you’ll see ones that are black, and that’s “this bone probably didn’t have meat when it was cooked, or someone tossed it back in the fire when they were done”. Lastly, you’ll see white bone, and that’s a bone that has been burned at a high temperature for a long time.  Usually it’s done on purpose (you can use burned, powdered bone to make stuff.).  

But the shiny ones were in a soup.  And the reason I know that is *because* they’re shiny.  Bones, especially old ones, aren’t shiny.  I mean...you can see that.  You have to do stuff to ‘em.  And bones are porous, but those weren’t.  They felt like hard plastic. And they get that way by being boiled.  The shiny patina is what we call pot polish - they were stirred in the soup while it was cooking and rubbed against the side of the pot and each other, and it gives them a smoother texture.  

All of these collections of bones tell us what and how they ate things.  I know from what I can ID here (which isn’t everything, trust me.) that they ate a lot of deer and wild turkey (we have an entire almost completely intact turkey long bone.). There is also, I believe, squirrel (I found a portion of a skull and jaw that I’m pretty sure belong to a squirrel), and an assortment of other small rodents and birds.  Lots of birds.  Bird bone is really distinctive, it’s light and the spongy bone has a distinct texture.  A zooarchaeologist can look at bones like this and ID species and age, and from there tell you what time year something was probably killed.  Societies that hunted a lot tended to do it seasonally so that they wouldn’t damage the populations.  Plus especially with fish and stuff they have very specific growing cycles and short lifespans, so they can also tell you a lot about where the people were hunting and when.  Like certain fish will only spawn in certain places, so it’s really informative.  Zooarchs are so important and there just aren’t enough of them.  

Anyway, there are other cool things in the bones but I’m trying to strike a balance here between too much and not enough and I really love bone so I’m going to stop here for today.  Tomorrow is going to be other artefacts (yeah, sadly, even lithics, lol), and what they tell us about the site and the people who lived there.   As an aside: if anyone has any like just general “how do they know this?” sort of questions about history and archaeology those would be fun to answer.  I love to tell people how we do things but I don’t just wanna infodump.  I DO want to explain procedure in what I hope is a readable way because I think understanding how we make the sausage will help people have more trust in science.  So if you have any questions, please, send asks.  If I don’t know the answer I’ll research it or pass it on to someone who does.  

[prof-peach]

Has any wild pokemon came to your place to seek help, and if so what was it like?

Well yes actually, because of our location and the distance between us and johto, we get a lot of Pokemon who stop for a rest between land masses at our lab. If they come in injured from battle, or sick from bad weather on their travels, the other Pokemon that hang around the island will pick up on it, and direct them to one of the professors, usually whoever’s closest at the time.

We get an awful lot of water types as you’d expect but I don’t really deal with them, that’s Professor Grey’s area, he’s not nervous in water like I am so he’s able to give more accurate and effective care. I will help from time to time but only really on the little land dwelling ones. The oddest water type we had turn up was a lotad. Hear me out, we’re no where near Hoenn, like at all, we don’t get them in johto, at least not wild, and the ones we get given are Pokemon we know and have helped, so we knew it wasn’t one of those. This little thing washes up on the beach along the north side, and if you’ve read anything about the island before you’ll know the North is fenced off, a zone for Pokemon to go to get away from the public, and is generally quite hostile, and off limits to guests without explicit permission and a guide. So this Lotad is found, luckily by a reasonable middle aged Ursaring, and suddenly we get a knock on the door in the middle of the night, this big mountain of a bear Pokemon holding the smallest little lotad, the thing was full of seawater and had burns form the salt and mould forming. He spent a week and a half in the ICU with strict climate control and a course of medication tailored to his species, all the while we’re all scratching our heads about how he got to us. We’d had no visitors so he couldn’t be a stray or released Pokemon, the weather was good so no storm could have carried him to us, he was alone, no trainer, no friends, no family. Ships pass through but could he have jumped off and ended up with us? We all have our theories, I personally think he got carried a fair way from home by a flying Pokemon, and dropped by accident. Either way he’s since become the little champion of our care program, he’s recovered in leaps and bounds and lives a very comfortable life in th entropic house, in the indoor pools with some Relicanth and the other little lotads, a few surskit. Happy Pokemon for sure now, we’ve had a porygon translate what he has to say but he doesn’t remember anything before waking up in the labs care unit. We just count him as the luckiest Pokemon we know, considering the terrible shape he came to us in. Must have been floating around the ocean for days.

We also get a heap load of flying types that rest between locations during migration, some of those do seem to have the odd issue which we tend to, our favourites are the migrating Fletchling that fly on through for the winter, they give a fiery display, filling the sky with little embers. Sure, fire risk, but also consider this, beautiful? We have water Pokemon on standby during this time, and usually anything that catches is caught pretty quickly. I do find the flying types will return. When some come through, and we notice them and help where we can, they’ll eventually leave to continue their journey, and then a year later they come back again, this time with families, friends, some even bring their whole flock, just because we built some trust with them that one time. We have pidgeot that repeatedly return to the island, all because we’ve patched up like several members of their family, they’re regulars to us now, and even between seasons of migration, they’ll return to see if we can help, or offer information should they encounter issues. I must say once one knows about you, the rest do pretty fast. I will forever remember fondly, gardening in peace, not a single problem to be dealt with, and then the sky went black and I couldn’t see the ground anymore, because SO MANY murkrow had landed all at once, they blocked out the light, they covered every post, every piece of dirt, all by demolished the berries I’d been growing all season. Why you may ask? Because I had hatched one random egg I found on my travels, had no idea at the time what it was, and I carried this thing around with me everywhere. When it hatched it was a little Murkrow, a little different in appearance, with a striking flash of blue under his little wings. I gave the thing a good start and sent it on it’s way. No big deal.

Wrong.

This little one was a lost egg from a boss Honchkrow’s clutch, how did that big boss bird know it was his child? He was the start of the variation, the bright blue under his wings. So yeah, he told them all about us, and how to get to the island, and we ended up with a HUGE amount of them, trying to bring things to repay the debt. Some found shiny items, others berries, unusual mushrooms, neat looking twigs, bottle caps, pins, buttons. To this day some of those Pokemon still hang out here, kind of dug it enough to want to stick around I guess. We don’t mind, they’re actually really good natured, and helpful too!

We get the odd dragon fly by, alwasy alerts the island’s heavy hitters when one touches down. Recently we’ve had Garchomp breeding here, they seem to like the mountains, and our resident female was putting out her siren song for a mate all spring. Summer they paired up, laid eggs, now we have little Gibble running around somewhere safe. Last actual dragon type to stop in for some help was a rather thin and dull coloured looking Charizard, had flown too far, exerted itself too much, came crashing into the labs big front doors, nearly took a patient clean out, definetly needed to replace some tables after that. With some good dinners and a bit of TLC they got fat and strong again, and went on their way.

I think once you help out a few Pokemon, word spreads, we get a lot of unusual clients, most of which have stowed away on passing ships, coming to us for information, support, and care. For instance last week we had a Krabby who came in off a cargo ship, swam to the island, made its way to the lab, SAT IN THE WAITING ROOM, legit was happy to wait, all because he had a broken claw and couldn’t get it off to make way for a new one to regrow. We helped him out and he went on home, we got a ship to pull in to return him home luckily.

This week there’s been a Magnezone and a Jolteon magnetised together, they asked for a lift from a visiting trainer who obliged, they’ve since been seperated and sent on their way, back home safe to the wild. Happens from time to time. Who knows what next week will bring haha. Every days interesting here I must say that much.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “The Plan.”

Getting excited for tomorrow. I have had this idea for a while and am pleased to be able to execute it. Building up to something good :)

Dr. Krill, Adam, and Dr. Katie stood in the low ceilinged Vrul council chamber at the center of the city. The entire room was as Adam had remembered it, with large glass windows looking out at all 360 degrees of the city. At one point he had assumed it was just the selfish desire of the ruling class to look down on the citizens, but as he looked, he could now see that there was some utility to the tower, almost a watch tower over the city. The canals and structure of the city itself could be sectioned off if there was ever an emergency, cut like a pie into triangular sections that could be excluded from the force shield if it was ever needed. 

As soon as their historian had put forward her hypothesis, the Vrul council had been called to order, and a few other GA members were now sitting in on the meeting remotely. They would have come themselves, but upon hearing about the horrible creatures that were, even now, clawing at their walls, the council had ordered the shield sup for what must have been the first time in millennia.

Luckily for them, they had never let the shields fall into disrepair, and as he looked out the window he could see the shimmering blue purple nexus of power glistening in the sky above them.

It worried him thinking that the ancient Vrul had deemed it necessary to have a force field that went into the sky as well. Dr. Kell had had a ruptured helium sack when they brought him in, but that gave the assumption that, perhaps, he would still have been able to float in his infected state, which was not something that bare thinking about, though it WAS an important item to consider.

“Yes, all the evidence does seem to point to that.” The counselor said, their head turned towards the GA chairwoman as they spoke, “We have contacted the other cities along the central line and they report their cities are built in much the same way. Satellite imaging shows clusters of…. The nesting sights all over the world, though their greatest cluster happens to be around our city. If each circle has approximately seven of the creatures burrowed below it, we estimate about 49,000 of the creatures possibly burrowed below our landscape. The animals in the area seem to know to steer clear of the nesting sites. The larger animals have moved in great migrations towards the poles where there are few of the nesting sites, and the animals who have a lighter step are prone to avoiding the circle when they can. Zoomed in pictures DO show the occasional skeletalized remains of some creature or another, but it is hard to tell what they died from.

The GA chairwoman was nodding, “So you believe that the cities were built for a different reason than originally thought.”

There was a pause and then the council nodded, “Yes, it seems likely that Vrul lived in open cities before the outbreak began and then built the city in defense against the creatures. The Deltas, we have found are the main spreading vector, since they are stronger and faster, they are more mobile, but the disease affects everyone similarly causing acute aggression and infected pustules filled with sores that rupture and spread a cloud into the air.”

Dr. Krill stepped forward just then to cut into the conversation, “Dr. Katie and I have examined the infection under controlled conditions, and it is clearly a disease that originated on this planet. It does not have the structures you would assume from a viral or bacterial infection common on worlds where the creatures are more animal than plant. In this case the subject does seem primarily interested in infecting our species. The disease is transmissible primarily through respiration where the spores enter the body and into the lungs, as it were, where they are dissolved and the toxin spreads directly through to the brain. It will then destroy most of the decision making and memory centers of the cortex, amp up aggression, and then start germinating more spores in those packets that we have seen.”

“So it isn’t contagious to other species.” The Chair woman asked 

Krill shook his head, “I did not say that.  While it is a disease that is meant for plant-like liforms, any creature with lungs similar to ours are also under direct fire of infection. Humans for example send blood directly to their brain from the lungs, and have cortical centers that are generally analogous to our own. Of course, humans have the blood brain barrier that would be much less likely to allow that to happen, so I don’t see a mental breakdown as part of its affect on humans, but I do imagine they could develop sores that could burst and be contagious.”

“I see, than what is your plan?”

Another of the council members took the moment to step forward, “Clearly we restrict movement outside the city. It worked for us for four thousand years and it shall work for the next four thousand years.”

There was a murmur of agreement around them before.

“You’re not fucking serious.”

There was a pause as the entire council chamber turned to look at him, Admiral vir standing just before the window and staring down at the city.

The human looked on in absolute consternation.

“Do you have a problem with that, human.”

Admiral Vir drew himself up, “Damn straight I have a problem with that. You have an opportunity to take your planet back. You have all the weapons and all the allies in the galaxy and you won’t even fight for your own planet. Living in your air tight cities and using it as an excuse to bring down even greater restrictions on a group of people who have never known any sort of freedom before.”

“Watch your ton-” “No, I am not one of your citizens, and I won’t be silenced for my opinion. At the end of the day it IS your decision, but you have to understand. The Vrul home planet is one of the greatest sources we have of natural gas and yet Vrul economic power is at an all time low, and that is because the group of you wont leave your cities to harvest it. Now we learn that there is a reason, a stoppable reason, and you just want to sit here and do nothing about it always watched by the fear of what if something happens, what if one of them gets in somehow, what if the strain changes, what if what if what if.” He looked around the room, “not to mention that if you took control of these things, you would be able to expand your cities, which would mean no more termination orders for those who are deemed, by the government mind you, to be useless.” he gave a very pointed look at Krill, “You would have had the doctor dead if it wasn’t for my intervention, and then as soon as something went wrong you called him back. I think that is a perfect example on how this system just isn’t working.”

The Vrul council stared at him, and it was pretty clear that they weren’t a fan of the words coming out of his mouth. There was one problem though, there were other citizens in the room than weren’t going to keep their mouths shut. There was Krill of course, who they had already discredited, but the Admiral had waited for the perfect opening, the the psychologist was there, the historian and more than a few other assistants, who he could see were Betas.

He knew from what Krill had said that Betas were insufferable gossips. So anything that happened in this tower was likely to get out.

With grudging slowness the council grinded back into movement, “Than what do you suggest, Admiral? We are not well versed in military tactics which is what this would require. You  can hardly blame us for turning back to the one thing that has always worked.”

Good job hiding behind being pathetic he thought to himself.

“It is a good thing that I am Admiral of the GA armada and have some experience with the tactical side of warfare.” He turned to look around at the others, “We will want to continue doing our tests on these creatures. I want to know what their weaknesses are, and I want to know how to kill them. This is to hoping that bullets do the trick, but I also want to know what they are attracted to. Some of you have suggested vibrations in the ground, in which case, I can use that.

Krill and katie agreed with him.

And he walked with them as they stepped from the room.

“You are really toeing a line the way you speak to them, I think.” Katie whispered quietly

He leaned in, “I have a feeling that the Vrul weren’t always like this. The traditions of government they have now are based on martial law that was present during a zombie apocalypse four thousand years ago. They don’t want to give up their power, but my duty isn’t to their government, it is to their citizens.”

Krill hummed his agreement from Kati’s opposite side, “The Admiral is right, I believe. The more I think about it, the more I have come to a conclusion that we are not as….. How shall we say…. Fragile as the council would make us believe. A lot of what they say is based on the idea that we need to be protected, but I think that ideology is something that was passed down from when we actually DID need to be protected. What other truths about the Vrul don’t we know because we haven’t been allowed to look into it further.”

Adam tapped his fingers against his crossed bicep, “The maximum age of a Vrul for one. I read a paper that said that the average age of a Vrul before termination is only around thirty or forty years, but if what they are saying is true about these zombie vrul, than it is likely they are around four thousand years old.” He glanced over at Krill, “how old does this make you past your termination order/”

Krill shrugged, “I was evaluated early, so I am only considered 35 in your human years, a little bit older in the Vrul reckoning of things, but that does pose an interesting hypothesis. I have never actually seen a Vrul die of old age. But it would make sense with the termination order. If we were forced into cities, than it would make sense that they would do these things out of a need for population control, that is assuming that we can live forever, a thought that seems ludicrous to me, but still.”

Adam nodded, “Starting off though, I want to know what kind of music does what to the creature.”

Dr Katie looked at him skeptically, “Music?”

He nodded, “Music.”

“What are you planning, she said suspiciously, looking him over with a critical eye.

He smiled, “Dealing with the hoard all at once, but if we can do that, and use music against them, well then I would want to use all of my inherent advantages now wouldn’t I?”

Katie nodded with some thought and motioned him onward.

They went back to the chamber, while he and some of the marines went back to the wall, where the group of ravening Vrul were still tearing at the base.

“Lower the shields.” he ordered on of the Betas.

The creature looked at him like he was nuts, but the look on his face made clear, in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t going to argue and hurried to do as Adam ordered.

The small section of the field opened, and he leaned out over the drop looking down at the creatures still clambering at the wall.

“Huh, Maverick, come here.”

Maverick trotted over behind him, rifle bouncing in a sling against her chest and she skidded to a halt next to him, “Yes Boss.”

“Think you can shoot one of them in the head from up here?”

She paused, frowned but then shrugged, “I mean…. yeah , probably.”

“Go on, target practice.”

She looked at him a bit confused for a second, before shrugging and leaning out over the drop. He grabbed her by the back of the shirt just to give her that extra bit of security while she got a good angle.

There was a small pause, and then a sharp subsonic crack as the rifle fired. The Vrul flinched at the shockwave and Adam’s ear’s rang. Damn idiot forgot to put in some hearing protection before she did that, but what was done was done. Not even a millisecond later there was a sharp explosion as the Vrul in question shattered into its component parts. It cracked open like an egg and the strange, and deadly pollen ruptured out before falling back onto the ground.”

Maverick drew herself back inside the shield which shut quickly.

“Huh, that worked better than expected.”

“Yeah, but did you see the polen?”

He frowned and nodded, “I did. I don’t think any Vrul should be going on this mission with us, and as for the humans. IT will be full suits and respirators for everyone. I want to see how long these spores can last in the environment by themselves. Hopefully it isn’t long, because if it is then that puts my whole plan out the window. I also want to see how long it can last in the air, because that is going to be super important.

***

When he returned to the lab later on after coordinating his original idea Dr. Katie and krill were waiting for him with their results.

“So, what did we find.”

“A couple of things.” Krill announced, “FIrst of all, the spores last a very short time outside the host, maybe twenty four hours at most, though that is only when provided with the perfect condition. They cannot infect the surrounding plant life or the soil. The spores themselves are rather heavy and so they don’t stick around in the air longer than the wind can keep them up, and they seem to be neutralized by water, or water ruins their infectivity when outside a subject, so that is also good news. His helium sack would still work if it was not for the tear, which means that these creatures can float, and we know that the deltas can burrow to some degree.”

Adam was nodding slowly, “And how about the music?”

“Ah, that we found is interesting. A steady and predictable beat does cause them confusion, so most human songs will get them. Anything without a measured beat isn’t an issue, like classical music for the most part. Songs that have no drumline don’t confuse them as much, and songs where the drum line isn’t as noticeable also don’t affect them as much. A good predictable drumline as seen in many rock songs will get them nice and confused, but your best bet for neutralizing them is a hard rock or metal drumline with additional patterns coming from the guitar and vocal track.”

“Hard rock and metal to save the day then.”

They looked at him with a curious expression as he grinned at them.

“What are you planning.”

“I am planning to kill zombies, and I am planning to do it in style.” 

[jwritesandrambles]

“Your Heart Rate Went Up-”

Hi! Here’s a pretty old but still cute TimKon ramble. It was not until much later that I found out that Kon didn’t have super hearing.  But hey, DC doesn’t care about continuity, why should I? This is a cute concept and I stand by it.  This is likely OOC as it was the first thing I wrote for TimKon. I hope you enjoy though, it’s lighthearted fluff with dumb mushy tropes.  _ _ _ _ _ _

Tim sat in the common area of the live-in head quarters. It was one of their rare days off. Everyone else was either relaxing, catching up on much needed sleep, or just spending a bit of time with each other.  Tim has set up his laptop, streaming bad old horror movies while he did a bit of school work. His English project had been a basic sort of daily journaling thing for the past month. For anyone else it would have been simple but Tim, who spent most nights on roof tops trying to take down mafia members and not get shot, answering the questions “what did you do last night?” became daunting. Writing the same boring lie over and over. His teacher seemed suspicious and Tim was worried that his teacher was going to think he was a drug dealer, what with the suspiciously bland overused daily routine and that Tim accidentally let slip his knowledge on how to cook meth whilst writing an essay on drugs and their portrayal in media. He sighed and dropped his head in his hand, pouting at his empty page.  “Hey Tim?” Tim’s head turned towards the voice. Kon leaned in the door way, his hands in the pockets of his stormy grey, lazy-day sweat pants. Kon was for once not wearing his usual Superman S t-shirt, but instead a plain black tank top. Tim was fairly certain one of Kon’s arms was thinker than Tim’s entire body. Kon made sure to remind Tim how tiny he was in comparison. It was ridiculously annoying. Kon was ridiculously annoying. He relied on nothing but his bronze and when that failed, he just let the team just clean up his messes. He was prone to being short tempered and impulsive which lead to issues on the field. When Kon wasn’t being impulsive he was-  “Sorry, did I startle ya?” He asked Tim, the corner of his mouth twitching into a slight smirk. “What- no, you didn’t? Why would you say that?” Tim asked, dropping his pen into his note book.  “Your heart rate went up,” Kon replied.  -Annoying. Kon was still annoying.  He wandered over to Tim and sat down on the couch next to him. “What’cha workin’ on?” He asked, his arm on the back of the couch behind Tim’s head. “Nothing interesting, just catching up on school work,” Tim noticed Kon’s hair was wet, and he smelled of something fruity and sweet. He must’ve just just gotten out of the shower. Tim’s eyes dipped back to his paper. Why was eye contact suddenly so hard? “That’s a pretty empty lookin’ page for catching up on homework.”  “Shut up,” Tim hit Kon’s chest.  “Hey! I was just gonna offer to help! I mean- I’m not great but two heads are better than one?”  Tim sighed, he couldn’t really argue there. It’s not like he was getting anywhere on his own. He grabbed his note book and pen and turned to Kon. Tim hesitated for a moment. Their faces were much closer then Tim expected.  “You sure you’re okay?” Kon asked looking Tim up and down quickly. “Your heart rate went up again,” he glanced over Tim’s shoulder, at his laptop screen, “Maybe give the cheesy horror movies a break.”  “Y-yeah, maybe,” Tim scooted away from Kon, shutting his computer and begun to explain his homework. He handed kon his note book to Kon, “I guess my excuses are just getting kinda... dry?” He explained.  “Well-” Kon began. “You’re dripping on my paper, stop leaning your wet hair over it!” Kon rolled his eyes and slumped back into the pillows, “As I was saying- what if instead of making up stuff, you just... rephrase what you did?” Tim tilted his head, confused. “Y’know,” Kon paused thinking for an example, “Well, what did you do yesterday?”  “Trained with the team. We worked on hand to hand combat and fighting without powers,” Tim replied.  “So write that you were doing a group work out, or at a martial arts club or something?” Kon reasoned. 

Tim paused, “that’s... actually pretty helpful... thanks, Kon. Maybe you’re not the worst,” he said with a slight smile, pale blue-grey eyes meeting the krytonian’s. Maybe Kon wasn’t always  t h a t  annoying.  Kon smiled brightly, “Good, glad,” he replied. Then he stood and stretched, “Well, my work here is done, I’ll get out of your hair and let you-“ “Wait,” Tim scrambled to his feet, “it’s nice having the company, if you’re not busy. And- I’m still not really great at this. Mind sticking around a little longer?”  “Yeah, sure, I don’t mind. You don’t have to be so nervous?” “I’m not nervous?!” Tim snapped scowling. “Heart ra-“ “I stood up quickly!” “Ohmygod- if that’s all it takes, your body ain’t right,” Kon teased, sitting back on the couch. Tim groaned and rolled his eyes. “I think it’s the caffeine. It’s destroying your blood pressure.” “Do not tell me to stop drinking coffee, Kent,” Tim said punctuating the word ‘Kent,’ with an elbow to the other boy’s side.  “Besides, It’s like, one cup in the morning!” he added in a grumble.  Tim put the movie back on from his laptop, and started writing his English journaling, quietly checking things in with Kon every now and then. By the time the movie was over, Tim was packing up his work, pushing his pencils and paper into his bag. “You know... I’ll have to write stuff for what happens tomorrow- think you can help me out again?” He asked softly. “Yeah- sounds good,” Kon agreed. They started putting aside time each night to meet up and put on an episode of cheesy old TV shows, while Tim did his journaling for the day. Slowly, they started sitting closer together. Kon’s arm migrated from being over the back of the couch to being over Tim’s shoulders. Neither seemed to notice  that their heads were closer together. If there was time left in whatever they were watching when Tim was finished writing, he would let his head rest on Kon’s shoulder. But it didn’t mean anything, right? It was just comfortable... yeah, comfortable and therefore, logical. It didn’t mean anything. If Tim fell asleep curled into Kon’s side, the krytonian didn’t dare move him. But it didn’t mean anything right? It was just the nice thing to do....yeah, nice thing to do, and Kon was a good friend, (even if his arm was getting kind of numb) and therefore, this was just polite. It didn’t mean anything. Two weeks later, Tim slumped on to the couch, head dropping immediately on to Kon’s shoulder, groaning softly. “What’s up?” Kon asked him, a hand loosely falling on Tim’s back, between his shoulder blades. “I just... something is bothering me.” “What is it? And why’d your heart rate go up?” “It didn’t!” “It did. Now tell me what’s wrong- Do you need help with more school work?” Kon asks. 

Tim stat up, tucking his hair behind his ears, in a feeble attempt to keep it from falling in his face. “Yeah, um it’s not really school it’s... okay so- uh I,” Tim bit his lip. The tips of his ears were going pink. 

“Are you... nervous?” Kon asked, slightly confused. 

“No! Okay, yeah I am-Just-shut up for sec!” Tim slammed his palms down on his knees and took a breath. “You’ve been helping me, and I’ve been spending time with you a lot and it’s been great! I was talking to Dick and he started teasing me about liking you. As more than a friend, I mean. And it was super annoying!” 

“So... your brother is getting on your ner-“ Kon began, brows furrowing.

“I’m getting there! Cause- Then I realized he was right!” Tim’s face somehow went redder than it already was, “And I do like you. And that’s weird, and I don’t really- I haven’t liked another guy before and I guess what I’m trying to say is...do you wanna go out? With me? I mean yeah of course me, that’s dumb I-”

Tim was cut off by Kon lifting his chin and pressing a kiss to his lips. If Kon thought Tim’s heart rate had been elevated before, the poor boy’s heart must’ve been on the verge of exploding. Kon pulled away, hand still lingering under Tim’s jaw. “Stop rambling, dumby. Yes, I would like to go out with you- and sorry I should’ve asked if that was okay...” Kon said, looking a little sheepish as he smiled. “I- I liked it. It was nice,” Tim was bright red, and smiling. “And you know what?” Kon asks, a little smirk appearing on face.

“What?” Tim’s pale blue eyes darted to the kryptonian’s own sky blue eyes. 

Kon leaned forward again, kissing Tim’s cheek, listening to his heart, “Your heart rate went up.” 

Tim laughed in embarrassment, trying to force a pout, “oh shut up!” He hit Kon’s chest lightly. 

“Okay, okay,” Kon laughed, placing an arm around Tim, “so- what were your date night ideas?” He asked casually. 

Tim realized he was about to have lots of new things to talk about in his journal entries for English class. His teacher would soon enough be tired of hearing about Tim’s new date, but Tim didn’t think he’d ever get tired of talking about Kon. 

Not ever in a thousand years.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 26

first time reader click here

TWs/SUMMARY: Drunken love confessions and other emotional constipation. A threesome between two awesome facial hair bros and reader. I'm absolutely unhappy with how this turned out because a certain sorcerer insisted on being super soft in this one. But at least there's porn...

On the same note, how do we feel about introducing more m/m action? I am a total slut for bisexual boys. I can't help the gay it just comes out...

I danced with Tony briefly as the drinks finally caught up to him. The ex-playboy certainly defended his title: he had impeccable sense of rhythm and we swayed on the floor in tandem, bothering very little with hiding how hot we were for each other. Grinding our hips together, my ass on his dick, Tony was half-hard and I felt it all through the layers of tulle of my skirt and leather of his pants. Now and then his hands wandered, shamelessly squeezing my breasts and my ass, his mouth leaving a blazing hot trail on my neck and my shoulders.

I wasn't far behind. Tony's hair was all kinds of messed up thanks to my own hands and his ass found itself in the very same palms far more than once. "It's a shame Bruce doesn't dance," I pouted drunkenly, receiving an equally intoxicated noise of vague approval. "The three of us are perfect," I stated something that had been boiling over in my head quite a bit.

Tony nodded again. "Yeah," He was far more touchy than usual; his lips landed in my hair right next to my ear. "Bet we can get Merlin, though. I saw him with Natasha earlier," Tony went in to kiss my cheek and missed again, sloppily smooching my temple.

"He has no business being that fuckin' hot," I spit out petulantly without a second thought.

"You're fuckin' right and you should say it," Tony agreed instantly, both of us wearing almost identical, indignant expressions. We paused for a moment, looking deeply into each other's eyes - or, well, we tried to. Drinks and drugs tended to make focusing quite hard. "So we're doing this?" Tony squinted questioningly.

"What about Bruce?" I immediately replied, mind going back to the way my sciency boyfriend was smirking at my and Tony's reaction to Stephen's grand entrance.

"He's okayed any and all our ventures provided we tell him about it," Tony said after a moment of stunned silence.

I chewed on my lip in muted amusement. "What's, he's got, like, a kink?" I tried to articulate my confusion. "And we somehow ended up, I mean all three of us - without talking?" I voiced my concerns. This conversation was really overdue and I'll be damned if that weren't the drugs making me talk. I would probably regret it in the morning...

Tony's eyes softened immediately, a palm raising to trace the side of my face lovingly and gently. "Me and Bruce had a conversation about... You. We both liked you, it's fucking impossible to dislike you, have you seen you? We had decided to let you choose at first, woved for it to not get in the way of our friendship..." He trailed off, looking sheepish and slurring his words slightly. The alcohol had loosened his lips too. I felt only the thump of the bassline, music fading away into the background, my ears hearing only the words leaving Tony's mouth. "I doubt it would have worked out anyways. But you..." He cupped my face. "You gave us everything."

I would have cried if not for the chemicals in my system. My mouth formed a smile on it's own accord and I reached closer to slot it over Tony's shaky grin, bringing us into a slow and sloppy kiss that lasted what felt like years. "I love you, okay? You and Bruce," I spit out the words I desperately wanted to say for so long. Nothing really mattered in the moment, it was just me and Tony and our shared feelings. It wasn't bizarre anymore, loving someone and being loved back.

"Me too, Princess, me too," Tony whispered, hiding his face in the crook of my neck. One of the many advantages of having a boyfriend that wasn't a six-foot tall muscle-bound fricking bastard.

"We have a mission," I reminded him after another song slowly transitioned into a different one. "But I'm also craving a cigarette."

Tony's hand encompassesed mine as he led the way to the patio where the smokers area was located. Bucky's shiny metal arm stood out amongst the partygoers and we made a beeline for him. I bummed a cigarette off him despite Steve's prominent frown and Bucky was even gentleman enough to light it up for me.

We needn't have looked for Strange, it was a few minutes after I'd taken my first drag that he appeared, spouting like a mushroom right after a rainfall. He was frowning. "Caught some douchebag trying to roofie a girl," He explained. Barnes gave him a cigarette without question, trading a dark look with Steve. "Natasha and Loki are taking care of it," Strange supplied, jerking a hand towards the back of the room.

Barnes eyed Tony until the latter gave a short, resigned nod. "Just don't do anything that will land me in the papers," The billionaire sighed before speaking several short commands into a bracelet that served as a direct communication device with Friday. "I raised the security monitors for any suspicious activity too. Put in an earpiece and Friday will notify you if someone else tries to act funny," Tony finished darkly, eyeing Stephen's shaking hands.

I choose to stay silent throughout the interaction, letting the pissed off men to blow off some steam before approaching them. Barnes' cigs migrated into my hands and I watched the tense, retreating backs of the super-soldiers until only the three of us were left in a comfortable silence. I waited until the man was done with his cancer stick and promptly grabbed his hands, gently but firmly stroking the scarred skin.

Tony leaned on the railing, watching us with open interest.

Strange cocked a curious eyebrow but didn't retract his hands, releasing a quiet sigh when my movements successfully calmed the tremors. "Contrary to popular belief, I am capable of being... Nice," He spoke after a moment.

"I know," I replied dryly. "But being nice all the time is boring."

"A day with you is never boring," Tony winked at us teasingly, noticing me step further into the sorcerer's personal space. His eyes were still glowing and whatever spell he had put on himself was still working, attracting me to him like a magnet.

Stephen looked to the side, at Tony, then at me, before gently pulling out a single hand and making an elaborate gesture that made his skin briefly shimmer. The unnatural pull disappeared - me and Tony both exhaled heavily - yet the appreciation for Stephen's lithe, agile form remained. He was a beautifully made man.

Tony made his own move, a signature of his, placing a steady palm on the taller man's back and looking up at Stephen through his eyelashes. The fresh air had sobered both of us up by quite a bit and our coordination returned.

Stephen smirked slightly, running his eyes over the crowd of partygoers gathered around us. Nobody was paying any particular attention to the three of us yet all of us were acutely aware how much damage could be done by a stray snapshot, an accidental Snapchat feature, or something drunkenly posted on public social media by an absolute stranger. Tony and Strange threw each other a secretive, heated glance while I pressed myself closer to Tony, still caressing one of Stephen's hands. To the public, it was nothing more than a friendly gesture to help out a close friend out of his discomfort.

"Your place? I'm afraid mine's a mess," Stephen asked, uncharacteristically dorky and overused pick-up line.

"Lead the way," Tony smirked, both of us sharing a muted giggle at the doctor's antics. In response, Stephen extracted his other hand from my grasp and waved them about in the familiar gesture of creating a portal. On the other side of the circle was the familiar scenery of Tony's penthouse bedroom, sheets, as always, unmade and my fluffy socks hanging half-way off the comforter.

I pulled both men into the circle by their forearms, making quick in hopes everybody around us was too drunk to take note of the surroundings on the other side of the portal. An obscenely large bed in plain view didn't leave much space for speculation.

I sat down on it, taking my time to observe the curious interaction between two men in front of me. The sexual tension between them was undeniable, it crackled in the space between their bodies, lit an unholy fire in their eyes. If I was completely honest with myself - Stephen was hot, but Stephen and Tony together, it was out of this world and I would have been very content to just hang back and watch the two of them going at it.

Untying and toeing off my shoes had me distracted for a brief moment - evidently enough for Stephen to lose his pretense and roughly grab Tony by his face, smashing their lips together gracelessly. Tony's hands grasped the expensive fabric of Stephen's blazer with a force that was equal to the one gathering in the low of my belly. The dress I wore was now carefully thrown over a nearby lounge chair, leaving me in a set of golden bra and tiny panties. It was a gift from Tony: he loved when I wore his colors.

My almost bare body got their attention: panting, they broke apart to stare at me, their gazes hungry enough to make me shiver and feel like prey. Tony's arms sandwiched me between them, letting Stephen's lips to taste mine for the first time. The sorcerer did not hesitate, he plunged his tongue into my mouth and immediately seized command of the kiss. He kissed like he fought, sharply, with precision and demand.

I popped the buttons on his shirt as he explored my mouth, finding the skin of his chest taut and textured with a multitude of smaller, thinner scars. He was built like a runner, or a swimmer, all lean muscle and sculpted hipbones and neatly stacked ribs. His shirt suffered a haste demise.

The thuds and jingles accompanied by quiet cursing behind my back alerted me to Tony's struggle with his intricately made costume. "Can you boom-boom-whoosh it away?" I asked Stephen.

He pulled away with an amused smirk, waving his glowing hands about. "Do what now?"

"It's what the internet calls your voodoo shit, don't quote me," Tony snarked, suddenly finding himself wearing only his boxers. I was promptly pulled to his chest, in what I knew was a defensive gesture - he hated showing off the scarred area around his arc reactor. He used to hide it from me, too.

Stephen hummed, once again waving his hands about in a surprisingly complicated set of motions. I was mesmerised by his hands - even despite the injuries, they remained as skilled and perplexing. Once Stephen was left in his underwear, I wasted no time in detaching from Tony and steering the sorcerer to fall freely into the large bed.

"You need to stop being so smug," I stated, climbing on top of Stephen and claiming his lips for myself. "It's bound to get you in trouble."

"Is that so?" And still, the man looked as satisfied as the cat who ate the canary. That just won't do.

"Tones, help me out, I'm trying to see smtn'," I asked, feeling the man settle in next to me and trace a gentle hand down my side, over my breast and down to the flat of Stephen's belly. The man under me shivered, face slowly heating up.

"Yes, dear?" My engineer supplied helpfully.

"Off," With a sudden change of pace, I snapped the elastic of Stephen's boxers, causing the man to jump and the very sizeable bulge in them twitch. Tony obediently pulled down the offending piece of clothing, causing Stephen to groan as the cool air hit the heated flesh of his most sensitive spots.

I settled between his thighs, spitting in my palm and giving his long cock a few solid strokes, enjoying the way his hips seemed to involuntarily follow the movement of my slick palm.

"I'd brace myself if I were you," Tony remarked teasingly, bending down to kiss the sorcerer again. Between my and Tony's mouths, Steph really didn't stand a chance.

The obscenely long moan that left his mouth was swallowed by Tony as my lips and tongue made to wrap around the very tip of Stephen's cock. I tasted the musk and the salt of him as I made down his long cock, taking extra time to warm up my throat for the incoming intrusion. And when I finally swallowed him, to the hilt, I swear I felt the way his body shook.

There was a lot more noise coming from the two men - I briefly lifted my eyes to see Stephen sucking a hickey onto the side of Tony's neck with a vigour, Tony's hand holding onto Stephen's hair as the taller man palmed the shorter man's bulge through his boxers.

I was pretty sure my juices were flowing down my thighs. The two men were a Sight; the drugs and booze in my system had me reaching new levels of arousal, levels I previously didn't even know existed. A needy noise left my lips, muffled by the delicious cock stretching them and I knew it was time to grant myself the thing I had been craving for so long.

Swiftly, I pulled off Stephen's cock and sat down into his lap, grinding my panty-covered mound atop his erection that laid on his belly, twitching and leaking. "You want a condom? We're clean and I'm on birth control," I offered.

"I'm clean, feel free to..." Stephen detached his mouth from Tony just long enough to mutter consent, immediately going back to taste the engineer's skin and mark it with his lips and teeth. By the time I she'd my underwear and slid down on his sizeable cock, I had noticed the necklace of blues and reds decorating Tony's neck and clavicles.

"Fuck, yessss..." I hissed, the emptiness within me finally fed. Experimentally raising my hips up and down a few times, I quickly found a rhythm that made for sinful noises to fall from both of our lips. Tony was whining, too, in impatience. "Tony, wanna try something?"

That piqued his interest. He looked at me, eyes unfocused and blown with lust. "Hm?" As Steph continued satiating his hunger for Tony's skin.

I carefully considered it before speaking. "Get behind me," I ordered breathily, slowing my pace just enough to keep me tethering on the brink of release.

"We need lube," He mumbled immediately, catching my drift - well, not quite.

"Nope, we don't. I can take both of you," I stated, bending over and spreading my legs a little wider. With Tony and Bruce, it would have been impossible considering the fact that Bruce's cock was as thick as a fuckin' coke can, but with Stephen being a little more reasonably sized... I must admit, I was curious. It certainly looked interesting enough in porn. Plus, it would allow the two men to feel each other-

"Fuckin' hell," Stephen groaned, one hand gripping my hip to steady himself. So that was a definite yes. "Princess, you're killing me here."

Tony took all of a whole second to get in position and spit in his hand, adding extra lubrication just in case. Thoughtful Tony. He needn't have worried, however - every inch from my thighs to Steph's balls was covered in my juices. To say that I was turned on would have been a massive fuckin' understatement.

"Fu-uck, you're so good, baby," Tony groaned. I felt the tip of his cock breach and stretch my entrance, finding the sting not painful but rather pleasurable. Inch by inch, I felt myself open up. The sensations were incredibly powerful, my release approaching even despite the steady slow movements that Tony was making.

"Harder," I begged, feeling my release approach with the force of a freight train. Both men complied, falling into a careful but powerful rhythm, shaking me to the core with each precise thrust. It didn't take long for me to clench and spasm around the cocks, making both men pick up the pace, their movements turning sloppy. My own imagination supplied the extra mile, figuring their cocks rubbing against each other inside my sloppy wet hole made it feel twice as intense.

Tony wrapped his forearm around my throat, putting a healthy arch to my back - I didn't know whose cock was hitting just the right spot and I didn't care. My eyes met Stephen's - he was watching me come undone, worrying his lip between his teeth, his own eyes darting between my and Tony's face. In a split second decision, I took hold of one of his hands and popped the index and middle fingers into my mouth, softly sucking on them, covering the digits in my little gasps and moans

Stephen's back arched and Tony groaned, stuttering his hips in response. As soon as the little crease between the sorcerer's eyebrows made a humble appearance, he was coming. "Fuck!" He yelped hoarsely, painting my insides and Tony's cock white. The engineer dropped his head onto my shoulders, panting, getting a few stuttered thrusts and he was coming, too, jerking almost violently behind me.

Him shoving his cock as deeply as possible within me triggered another wave of bliss for me. I followed the two men, gasping around the fingers in my mouth and behind the unyielding strength of Tony's arm. I felt wrung out, like a paper bag scrunched up and used...

In the best way. It was incredibly hot. The realisation that I had been marked by two glorious men from the inside out made me shiver and the men in question twitch in response to the involuntary flutter my pussy had done from my thoughts.

"Woah," Tony mumbled, gently pulling out of my sore and sloppy hole.

"Yeah," Stephen was finally speechless and tranquil. A picture of serendipity, really, with his arm thrown comfortably over his head and a sated little smirk on his face.

I couldn't resist pecking him on the lips as I slid off his body to nest myself between him and Tony who still seemed to be catching his breath. "You should be like this more often," I stated, feeling myself slip into drowsiness.

"Gimme a reason," Stephen mumbled, barely a trace of his usual sarcasm.

"Oh we will," Tony finished darkly, throwing a sheet over the three of us and settling a comfortable arm across my waist, palm flat on Stephen's tummy. Last thing I heard before I fell into a deep sleep was Stephen's blunt nails scratching softly along Tony's scalp.

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