#over 500 layers later... i have this...

[surelysilly]

the eleventh age of magic

Not too many folks like Balance, y'know?

my piece for @dpxdc-worldscollide! i did a desktop background, and it and the zine are free to download so go check it out to see all the awesome work everyone did <3

smth smth a post-AGIT au, clockwork's apprentice Danny finds himself embroiled in yet more problems over something called the Cosmic Logs and all because he wanted to embody something as simple as Balance smdh

[hellotailor]

armand’s costumes are such an interesting data point re: his nebulous sense of identity.

when analyzing any costume, there are always many factors to consider: the setting, the character’s personal taste and economic constraints, storytelling concerns like tone and genre, etc. with armand, we also need to remember that he’s 500 years old and violently disconnected from his human origins. everything he wears has an element of disguise, selected to blend into a new environment.

armand was enslaved as a child in 16th century delhi, and barely remembers his mortal life. unlike louis - who can return to new orleans after 80 years and reconnect with his past - armand has no home to return to. his whole backstory, even his name, is rife with traumatic subtext, leaving him with an obsessive need for structure and control. this adds an extra layer of meaning to costuming choices that initially seem like straightforward menswear. 

armand’s 1940s wardrobe is very put-together - primarily three-piece suits and coats that make him look wealthier and more formal than louis, who is purposefully dressing down. most of these outfits are tailored to bulk up armand's frame, leaning into the "maitre" persona. and like his business-casual dubai wardrobe, he always leaves his collar open. when i interviewed costume designer carol cutshall, she described this as a symbolic power move, signalling that he's an apex predator who doesn't need to protect his throat.

my personal interpretation is that while armand clearly likes to look good, he has a complicated relationship with attractiveness. he doesn't always want to draw attention. his color palette is shadowy (black, grey, brown, olive green), and he’s much less flashy than the other Théâtre vamps. however when he’s feeling confident and flirty, he becomes more of a power-dresser - for instance his hunting outfit with the big coat and sunglasses, or his habit of wearing kohl.

interestingly, most of armand's 1940s costumes set him apart from the coven. the Théâtre vampires dress like cabaret performers, embracing a lot of period-specific styles. by contrast armand is more timeless and neutral. in fact, due to the relatively minor changes in men's suits over the past 100 years, there's a lot of overlap between his wardrobe in the 1940s, '70s and 2020s:

the rest of the Théâtre squad share an unofficial uniform of boldly clashing monochrome patterns with pops of bright color. meanwhile armand has a very plain wardrobe, emphasizing the image of him as a businesslike authority figure surrounded by zany artistes. he only wears subtle stripes on a few occasions in the '40s, reflecting the recurring prison motif we see in lestat's trial suit and (most famously) the dubai penthouse bedroom:

if we ask the question, "what does this person like to wear?" there are easy answers for lestat, louis and claudia. we understand their tastes, and the motives behind them. but armand is more enigmatic. we can recognize through-lines in his wardrobe, but his "taste" is dominated by whatever role he's currently decided to embody, whether that's a parisian theater director or a real estate mogul in dubai.

the times when he appears to have the most fun with clothing are when he steals a pair of sunglasses from his human dinner (!) and when he's pretending to be rashid. in other words, when he's explicitly performing for an audience. "real armand" is still a mystery.

(i may write more about armand's dubai wardrobe later, but for now, you can find all of my iwtv costumes posts on this tag!)

[invertedrat]

!I'M NO LONGER DOING THIS!

!BRUH THIS IS OVER IM NOT DOING IT ANYMORE PLS STOP INTERACTING W/ IT!

Note goal thing that I tried before but it flopped lmao

10 notes: I'll eat something

I ate a rice cake :3

20 notes: I'll drink something that's not water :p

I drank half of a coke :3

50 notes: I'll try to start drawing again

I drew smth spooki todayy :3 I might post abt it later :3

100 notes: I'll watch a new movie (i have no motivation to)

I wtched ratatouille :3

200 notes: I'll start posting real wieiads

I'll start tommorow :3

300 notes: I'll fully commit to sewing something like a stuffed animal or sum

I'll post a poll on what I should sew :3

500 notes: I wont count my cals for a week

I'll start this coming sunday :(

1000 notes: I'll start posting pics of of me (NO FACE THO)

ok w h a t t t t 😰 im scared of y'all fr how did it get to 1k this fast :0 anyways I'll post whenever I'm having a good hair day😇 (almost never cuz I need a haircut urgently bro my layers are so overgrown it looks weird)

IM NOT DOING THIS ANYMORE, NO MATTER HOW MANY NOTES THIS GETS I WILL NO LONGER BE CROSSING THESE OUT OR DOING THEM

1500 notes: I'll start selling some useless stuff in my room

IM NOT DOING THIS ANYMORE, NO MATTER HOW MANY NOTES THIS GETS I WILL NO LONGER BE CROSSING THESE OUT OR DOING THEM

2000 notes: I'll (try to) 100% stop sh

IM NOT DOING THIS ANYMORE, NO MATTER HOW MANY NOTES THIS GETS I WILL NO LONGER BE CROSSING THESE OUT OR DOING THEM

5000 notes: I'll start telling my therapist my actual problems (I hide stuff from her)

[sixosix]

hello!! this is my first time asking so forgive me if i do anything wrong.

so i just saw your event anddddd first of all, i just want to say congrats on 5k!!! and also happy birthdayy!! if its not a bother, can i participate in the event?? if so heres the prompt,

[lyney, earphones(the wired ones), fluff]

your thawed series really made me fall in love with the way you write lyney😭 and because of that, i want to read more of him from you!!

once again, congrats on 5k!!

a/n HELLO ANON!!! thank you so much + dont worry u sent an ask right! im so happy u like my characterization of lyney hehe hes just a silly guy…

info 500 words, short and sweet, modern college au

5K EVENT SPECIAL | EVENT MASTERLIST

Lynette texted you this morning saying that she had a fever.

Usually, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Get well soon! or an I’ll send you the notes later would be the end of the conversation. Then you’d go on with your day and miss her, but that would be it. That was supposed to be it.

But it was Lynette. And if she was involved—

“Hey.” Lilac eyes overtook your vision, shockingly close. You jumped back, and Lyney grinned. “Are you still texting my sister? I’m right here, you know.”

Lynette You’ll be fine

You LYHBEDTTE

Lynette He’s just Lyney

You EXACTLY WHY

This was a problem because you had been nursing the biggest crush on Lynette’s brother since you met her—and it’s been years. The color of his eyes, the softness of his hair, the crinkle of his eyes as he smiles—

“I’m telling her I wish she were here instead,” you said, hiding your screen from his sharp eyes.

Lyney wasn’t fazed at all. He matched your steps and easily walked alongside you, his lips stretched into a wide grin. He was so suspiciously happy today.

“Are we going to take the bus there?” Lyney asked, his arms still brushing against yours. His chin was tucked in his windbreaker, muffling his words a little. He looked a little red—did he have a fever as well?

“I guess so,” you said, dragging your gaze away from the sight. You could hear your heartbeat racing.

Lyney’s smile softened, then gestured at the bus stop bench. “It’s still early. Let’s sit over there.”

It was empty, yet when you sat at the far edge, Lyney still cozied up beside you. Seeking refuge, you hid your face further in the safety of your hoodie. This was bad. Lynette rarely got sick; this was your first time alone with Lyney, and you didn’t know how to act.

When you glanced at him, Lyney seemed content with the silence. You weren’t—you could hear the loud thumps of your chest, and soon enough, Lyney would notice it, too.

You pulled out your earphones and swiped to the highest volume possible, ear damage be damned. You were not going to survive today. You’re going to embarrass yourself and make a fool of your impressions, and Lyney would get weirded out and avoid you for the rest of his life.

Your throat made some sort of warbling deflated noise as music drowned out your heartbeat, but not your thoughts. Why was Lyney so warm? Even with layers of clothing, you could feel the heat of his skin, and it was driving you mad. You wanted nothing but to curl into it like a cat with sunlight. Why did Lynette have to get sick while you were still hopelessly infatuated with her brother?

Abruptly, Lyney’s head found its way to your shoulder. Stunned, you sucked in a breath, overwhelmed with all the sensations. Your five senses were being violated left and right—all you could see, hear, and touch was Lyney.

He reached his hand out expectantly. You made a noise of confusion, then belatedly realized what he was pointing at. Careful not to jostle him, you plucked an earphone and gently placed it in his ear. Lyney flinched.

“This is loud,” Lyney chuckled, but he didn’t ask you to mess with the volume. He laid back down with his weight and stayed there, unaware of how your face was a flaming mess.

Your eyes slipped to your lap, feeling shy. From this angle, it was hard to tell what Lyney was looking at, but you could feel his smile. It could be Lyney’s unnaturally warm body heat or your burning embarrassment, but— maybe you were starting to feel feverish as well.

Lyney snuggled closer. You sighed and resigned yourself to a long day.

[pernesophe]

Omg I’m so excited about requests!!!!!

I really love your work re: Suo, from Wind Breaker, so I was hoping for more of him.

Like a seamstress! Reader x Suo, who’s never at the repair shop for himself but notices reader anyway and it’s not at all obvious? I just love the idea of Suo wrestling his feelings over someone yk? A work-oriented, not easily wavering reader, who’s too busy doing her work to notice him until it’s the ONLY OPPORTUNITY. Maybe they’re college age? Idk I just love him with a super serious and driven gf.

Minors and Ageless Blogs please DNI! (Edited (1.5.25))

First Request Woop Woop!! Thank you so much for sending this in!

I do want to preface that Suo is one of the harder characters for me to write - he's just so foxlike and keeps his emotions hidden (I am not like this so it's hard to relate to him lmao). Also reader wanted to have their own say in this piece ig (characters rebelling and all that). So this may not live up to your request, and if it doesn't then I'm so sorry - I really did try!!

Really I was aiming to only write 500-1k words, but here's like 2.9k because I have no self control lol:

TW: Fluff (Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics)

Suo and the Seamstress

It was a brisk day, the wind whipped through Suo’s coat on the way to the little shop located at the end of Main Street. Not much had changed around town since he left for college, though that may just be because of his weekly visits, so the changes felt gradual. Like this building on the end of the street that had been vacant until his last year at Furin when a seamstress moved in, or how that seamstress hired an apprentice the same summer. 

So it came as no surprise that through the window he could already see you working as he pushed through the wooden door, the tiny brass bell chiming overhead to announce his arrival. Once inside he was greeted by the warm embrace of the tiny radiator eeking heat from the back of the shop, followed by the rhythmic drumming of the machine you were pushing fabric through.

At first he glanced around for your boss, but it seemed - to his delight - that she was out on a supply run. You were still sitting there behind the ornate front desk working, taking no notice of him at all. By the register sat a little sign next to a bell that read: “Be back later! Ring to get their attention!”

The auburn haired man didn’t ring the bell though, he didn’t step forward, instead he hovered by the door and observed. As you paused to deftly fold the fabric into layers, pin it, and then neatly line it up under the metal foot before pressing the pedal on the floor lightly - the same way you would accelerate a car. Eyes narrowed slightly as you watched the needle raise and lower, the internal mechanisms resumed that comforting drum that echoed through the shop. A clip secured all of your hair at the back of your head so he had a clear view of your side profile.

Usually he handled dropping the uniforms off for the Furin boys, and Nirei was the one who would handle pick up, so Suo’s only seen you in the morning light. Memories glowed softly in his mind, the gentle rays barely illuminating the planes of your face. Shadows cascaded under your jaw, behind your ear, stretching up into the strands of hair laid flush against your head to create a dark and delicate shawl. Always silent in the early hours, sometimes with your lips pressed into a line and a notch in your brow. He was never quite sure if it was from concentration, or if you were trying to hide your honest feelings about the “upscale orders” that would overflow from the city. 

This time the afternoon light was much brighter, coming through the window set behind you, vibrant orange mixed with the white daffodil rays from earlier. Backlit by the sun, it illuminated everything about you at this hour. The light crept up your back, threaded through your hair, stretching over your cheeks, and wrapping over your shoulder to climb up the column of your throat while lacing down over your collarbone as well.

Suo was grateful for your driven nature in this moment, eyes focused on the ever tamping foot of the machine, so he could steal these precious moments to himself. Tracing the ridge of your nose, swoop of your jaw, and the bend of your cheek with his careful eye. How the bow of your lip was so prominent when you pursed your lips in thought. The strand of hair that fell from your clip and kissed the nape of your neck - all of it he committed to memory until the next time Nirei couldn’t handle pick up…

And then, like a bird watcher being caught by the bird itself, you glanced out of the corner of your eye and immediately straightened to look at him head on. The drumming of the machine fell away, replaced with the humming lights overhead. 

“Sorry I didn’t see you there,” mumbling as you stood, smoothing down your shirt and trousers before approaching the desk. Suo mirrored you step for step until you met at the desk together, you peering up at him - your soft timbre still ringing in his ears.

“It’s quite alright - I never rang the bell,” Suo replied with a serene smile, nodding towards the little sign and rounded piece of silver. 

“Can I have your name and ticket, please?” Your hand held out to him, palm up, as you spoke. For a moment he was taken aback by how unfazed you were to his presence. Fishing the ticket out of his pocket, he produced the small, rectangular piece of yellow parchment. 

“Suo Hayato,” he responded through an unfaltering smile as he slid the paper into your hand, “though I think the ticket’s under-”

“The Bofurin Account, right. One moment please,” you cut him off as you turned towards the rack of garment bags behind the counter. He was left blinking rapidly at your clip as you thumbed through the hangers on the rack. After a moment, you grabbed a bundle of hangers loosely tied together and lifted the bags off the rack, then turned back and laid them across the counter.

”So, Mr. Suo,” you enunciated each word in turn, eyes still trained on the garment bags until they slowly lifted, traveling the expanse of his torso until they met his curious gaze. A light dusting of pink rose to his cheeks from the moniker, your unwavering gaze spiking his heart. He leaned forward slightly as you parted your lips to inquire, “were there a lot of knife fights this week?”

”Uh-hm, what?” Suo sputtered, clearing his throat before he responded with a question. Tilting your head, not unlike a hawk sizing up its prey, you gestured to the garment bags - wrist turned up towards him, your fingertips skimming the canvas, thumb slightly folded over your palm. 

“There were a lot of cuts, looked like some kids were sliced?” Your tone seemed nonchalant at first, but one of your brows slowly raised as the c hissed between your teeth as if they were connected by a string. Suo felt hot and prickly under his coat as a drop of sweat ran down his back from your unblinking stare.

”Well, yes,” Suo began cautiously, with a curt nod, “that happens when thugs bring knives to a fight.” His lips were curled into a serene smile, but his words shifted in the air like snakes slithering through tall grass. Your lips pressed into a thin line, if he had to name the look he’d call it unamused.

”Right,” you replied in a tone matching your expression, “and how are they doing in school?” Querying in that same passive tone that hid something predatory underneath as you started to gather the tickets and check off the log book.

”The thugs?” Suo retorted in disbelief, puffed through a breathy laugh - his serene mask broken. Your hands stilled as you zeroed in on the fracturing, cocking your head to look up at him.

”The kids.” Again, as the s hissed through your teeth, that string drew your brow up, your eyes growing half lidded and tired at the perceived density. 

”Oh.” Suo blinked, haunches smoothing down slightly. “Most are doing well - there’s a few who struggle in their respective subjects, like kids sometimes do.” He answered genuinely, though his sienna iris darted over your expression - trying to read your next move.

”Hm,” puffing air through your nose, nodding your head simply, you finished tying paper slips to the hangers in the garment bags. “Well, you’re all set,” you stated while patting the top of the bags. Suo blinked, a mix of fear and intrigue swirling in his chest - not yet wanting the interaction to end. Honestly he wanted to know if you had a problem with him, or if this was just your regular demeanor. 

“Is it alright if I take a look?” He requested calmly, to which you shot him a look of unbridled disbelief, so he quickly added, “not because I don’t trust your work. I’ve just never seen it - I handle drop off typically.” Your face smoothed at his explanation, but you only nodded at the bags in response. 

Suo gingerly unzipped the top bag and opened it to find an immaculate Furin uniform. It didn’t look like they had been sliced, or at least you hid the damage well enough. The biggest surprise was the button down shirt - blindingly white once again - he searched for the name tag to find it was a student who was notorious for being rough on his clothes. You stared at his shocked expression triumphantly, barely hiding the upturn at the corner of your mouth.

“How did you get it so white?” Murmuring as he looked back at you with an astonished expression, brows raised in question. The thought displayed plainly across his face: This is a mending shop, not a dry cleaner’s. 

“I took them home and cleaned them,” you said simply. Though your face clearly showed what you were thinking: ‘how else did you expect them to get cleaned’.

“But some of the stains were already set…” He noted incredulously, only growing more confused by your explanation.

“Family secret,” you offered with a nonchalant shrug. Suo just stared at you dumbfounded before puffing out a laugh with a shake of his head as he pulled out his wallet. When his finger and thumb were gripping his card, tugging it out halfway, you threw him a bewildered look. “What’re you doing?”

“Paying…?” Suo chuckled out awkwardly through a tight lipped smile, that serene mask transformed into something amused, but forced.

“Mm-mm, y’all don’t pay. It’s under the Bofurin Account,” you asserted while tapping the sign taped to the front of the register. It read: 

”Cover a Bofurin’s repairs! Donate a few yen with your purchase to cover the materials!”

Suo read the sign, and then re-read it for good measure. Sure the town supported them back in High School, but there was a new level of organization to it now.

“But what about the cost of labor?” He inquired, wallet and card still at the ready.

“Free.” You stated, as if it were obvious, while tucking the uniform back in the bag and tugging the zipper up. That’s when Suo noticed the slip of paper you tied to the hanger, immediately he reached out and turned it the other way so he could read it - forcing you to stop mid zip. 

“Tutoring?” He read the title out loud with the inflection of a question before glancing at you for another explanation.

“You said some of them were struggling, and some kids from different schools in the area have put together a tutoring program. This seemed the best way for me to get the word out to Furin.” You explained as you gently took the paper from his hand and laid it back in the bag, zipping it up the rest of the way.

“That’s very considerate, thank you,” he murmured, a little taken aback as he considered the possibility that perhaps you weren’t just giving him a hard time earlier. 

“No problem. Have a good day Mr. Suo,” you spoke in an assertive tone, nodding and gesturing to the bags that the transaction was complete.

“Right, have a good day.” He replied, a little solemn at how irked you seemed at his presence. But as he moved towards the door, garment bags laid over his arm, his curiosity got the better of him as he turned back to ask, “um, I hope I haven’t offended you in any way?”

“What do you mean?” Cross-questioning him with a slight shake of your head, that notch back in your brow.

“Well you don’t know me and we’ve never really had a conversation before, but you seem to have a lot of… unspoken opinions about the Bofurin alumni.” Suo explained slowly, that hot prickly feeling coursing over his skin again.

“I do know you - my brother talks about you all the time,” you claimed with a simple shrug while you put the logbook back on its shelf.

“Your brother?” Suo mumbled, more to himself than you, as he wracked his brain for who your brother could be.

“Riku L/N,” you offered, expression immediately softening at the mention of your sibling. Suo was suddenly struck with a memory from about 6 months ago of a rather loud young man that looked kind of like you who he taught “Beetle Style”.

“He really enjoys the training events you all hold, but he’s struggling in math, english, and just about any subject that isn’t fighting,” you explained with a small huff, followed by a slow sigh - the tension releasing from your shoulders. “It makes me wonder how many students are in the same boat. I guess I’m just a little worried for them…” you admitted in a softer tone. 

“I’m sorry if I came across a little,” you grimaced slightly at the ensuing word, “bitchy earlier.” Suo could tell the word tasted like bile in your mouth, and had to suppress a chuckle at the sight. 

“It’s alright, and you weren’t,” he assured you gently, turning back to the desk fully. “I understand where you’re coming from, it must feel weird to be protected by kids.” He offered gently, and you immediately nodded in agreement.

“It’s a lot safer here, which is why we moved in the first place, but I guess I just didn’t expect my little brother to be one of the people keeping us safe…” you swallowed thickly after the words spilled out - not intending to be so vulnerable with him.

“It’s hard not to think of all of them as my little brothers y’know?” You murmured quietly as you gestured at the garment bags still slung over his arm. Everything about you was softer now, and Suo couldn’t help but drink it in. The way your brow creased in worry, and how you nervously wrung your hands as you captured your bottom lip between your teeth. Your gaze focused on the bags, but he could tell that you were seeing the boys’ faces instead of the clothes.

“I feel the same way,” Suo declared gently, drawing your gaze back to the genuine smile tugging at his mouth. “We only graduated a couple of years ago, but we worry too. Our class is the one who pitched the training events so there’s at least a few alumni always in the area. The class who graduated before us are working towards bringing trade and apprenticeship programs back to our community. And the class that graduated before them is still networking with a few Universities in the area to bring back solid pathways from High School to college. That’s how a lot of our class was able to go off to school.” Expounding on the alumni’s efforts, Suo hoped it would quell some of your anxiety. 

“I-I’m really sorry,” you blurted out immediately, eyes wide as a vibrant pink bloomed across your cheeks, “I had no idea. I-I thought y’all were just teaching them how to fight,” you admitted sheepishly. He couldn’t help but laugh outright at the 180 in your demeanor.

“It’s alright. If your brother is mostly interested in fighting, then that’s probably all he’s told you about,” Suo remarked before elaborating further. “The training events are to make sure they won’t be overwhelmed by other teams, but we’ve been in their shoes. We want their lives to be easier than ours were too.”

“Oh God,” groaning as you covered your face in embarrassment, shaking your head. “I must’ve seemed so cold, I really am sorry,” your words were muffled by your palms. Suo suppressed his titters at your floundering behind his free hand.

“It’s really no big deal,” Suo spoke reassuringly as you peaked in between your fingers to see his serene smile. “Actually, we’re having another event in two weeks - you should come by with Riku. You’ll be able to see some other alumni and they’d be thrilled to tell you about the work they’ve been doing.” He suggested as you gradually lowered your hands to the counter to reveal a slightly intrigued expression.

“Are you sure that’d be okay?” You murmured, brows raised in slight apprehension.

“Would it be okay for the seamstress who’s been fixing all the boys' clothes - for free - to come to an event they were invited to?” Suo responded with another question and a coy smile. Your gaze cut to the counter as your cheeks burned from his teasing. “I think it’d be more than okay,” his sure tone brought your gaze back to his kind smile and half moon eye.

“Alright, I’ll be there,” you replied, nodding while flashing him a wide grin. A faint blush swept across Suo’s face as his heart stuttered at the sight.

“I can’t wait, have a good day Y/N.” He murmured, a touch of tenderness leaching into his tone as he moved towards the door once again. But as his fingers gripped the handle your soft timbre stopped him in his tracks.

“I hope you have a good day too, Mr. Suo,” you called after him, the moniker you used before sending a wave of heat through him as his cheeks became downright ruddy. He turned back to see a coy smile curving your lips this time as you took your seat at the machine. The rhythmic drumming filled the shop once again while the usually sure footed Suo stumbled back into the chilly air.

I got too excited and posted this request before adding my MDNI at the top. That is 100% on me! It has been added as of Jan 5, 2025.

Because this is an 18+ only blog I kindly request that you have an age indicator easily accessible on your blog prior to interacting with my posts (even the fluff ones). Please check out my pinned post if you have any questions about this, and my apologies for slacking on this one!

[quitealotofsodapop]

DBK is most certainly confused as hell! But the moment he hears Wukong is in Danger, he's all on storming the Celestial Palace against his former brother's, this time with permission from his in-laws! It's also during this situation the truth about his rampage 500 years ago becomes known to the Celestial Realm. Xiwangmu, who has figured out Uwkong was not pregnant on the Journey, has even more reason to respect DBK.

Prev.

DBK is all sorts of messed up when he gets revived, but he immediately softens when he hears a tiny excited "BABA!" at his hoof. Immediately the feared demon king drops to his knees to embrace his child, barely larger since he last saw him centuries ago. His wife is close behind, cupping her husband's face and peppering him with kisses as she sobs with joy.

Red Son and Iron Fan are the only people who matter to DBK in that moment.

Then he notices his in-laws. And what appears to be the Pilgrims? Why are they all here?

DBK: (*finally gets a good look at the room/construction site*) The Room: (*His wife's parents, her nephew, and her cousin are all watching him closely. A pair of dragons + their pup stay at a safe distance. Macaque is alive again and is struggling to keep the Staff upright. And a trio of Pilgrim-looking fellows look extremely out-of-place.*) DBK: "Uh... ok, I am completely at a loss for what is happening right now." Nezha: "The Brotherhood have taken over Heaven. Azure Lion has taken the Emperor's power for himself, and taken Sun Wukong as a hostage." DBK: "Those fools! But, why is Wukong unable to fight back against them?" Macaque: "He's very weak from delivering a stone egg." DBK: "HE DID WHAT!? After I nearly ripped heaven asunder to prevent him from doing so!" Tang, history nerding: "Wait - that was the reason for your rampage 500 years ago?! You were trying to stop Wukong from creating his Stone Egg?" DBK: "Of course! He approached me to act as a vigil for Flower Fruit Mountain while he buried himself. When I discovered that the process is more often-than-not fatal, I became adamant on distracting Wukong by any means necessary!" Nezha: "You were not successful, sadly. Me and Iron Fan kept watch for the last 5 centuries - though I was not given context on why. I now understand why that was. I nearly strangled Wukong when I learned what the purpose of his "meditation" was." DBK, surprised: "Truly?" Pigsy, gesturing to the Ao-Long's: "Yeah, it was only when a certain baby dragon got lost playing with your kid did anyone know about this." Mei, puts up hand proudly: "I dug up Uncie Wu!" (*DBK turns to PIF, his face uncertain*) DBK: "My love, is this all true?" PIF, nodding: "Yes dear. When I saw the reincarnations of Wukong's pilgrim brothers touch upon the island, I sensed that it was time to slowly reunite our family. I retrieved Red Son from Guanyin, and of course, you know how much trouble he can get into on a good day. Eventually, things got a little away from us when Macaque came back into our lives - you must see the recording of the Trial that happened because of that. And of course my parents eventually found out about their grandson from my involvement." Red Son, smiling proudly: "I set the Jade Emperor on fire!" Jade Emperor: "He did." Xiwangmu: (*hiding fond laughter behind her sleeves*) DBK, turns to face his in-laws: "In that case, I will accept any rapport offered to me in kind. My main priority is my family, and if Iron Fan wishes to include you in it - I would honour her choice." Sandy: "Guess, thats gonna include Mr Monkey King now too, huh?" DBK: "What?" Pigsy, getting frustrated: "We'll explain it later!"

So yeah, big brother Bull got some ears to shout off, and a few former-Brothers to interrogate.

Yellow Tusk actually breathes a sigh of relief to see DBK burst through the cloud layer into the Celestial Realm, furiously shouting "SUN WUKONG!" as he charges at the doors to the throne room. Finally a good distraction.

[lost-in-lamentation]

❄️💉 - snow, sick fic.

mammon × gen!reader. fluff.

warnings: mammon gets sick (nothing serious), reader implied smaller than mammon.

content: after being stuck outside, mammon falls sick very quickly.

back to the 500 follower event: here.

“mammon?! what the hell?!” you dashed over to him, doing your best to avoid slipping on the snow covered pavement. although you were glad mammon paid you occasional visits in the human world, you wished he had texted you earlier. as soon as you were close enough, you threw your arms around the demon, pulling him close. “oh my god, you’re freezing!” you immediately pulled away, taking a good look at him. his face was tinted red, maybe from staying out in the cold for too long. “you need to get inside.”

“i-i’m fine.” mammon chattered between his words, and you finally noticed the way his legs trembled.

“yeah, okay, sure,” you replied. you shoved your hand into your pockets, fishing around for your front door key. with the door finally open, you dragged mammon inside, peeling his unfortunately damp jacket away from him. “seriously, how long were you out there for?” 

mammon shook his head like a wet puppy, unseen snowflakes falling from his hair. “a few hours?” he shuddered again, blowing air into his hands to bring feeling back to his fingertips. 

“you’re ridiculous,” you muttered while draping his jacket over the back of a chair. “go take a shower so you can get out of those clothes.”

mammon had circled his arms around himself at this point. the way he trembled made you ache inside; he had stayed outside far longer than he should have. “i didn’t bring an extra set of clothes...”

“i always keep some here for you.” 

“wait, ya do?!” the red on his cheeks deepened, and at this rate, you were scared he would end up overheating.

“yes, now go shower. i’ll drop the clothes off while you’re in there.” you practically watched the gears in his head turn. but perhaps too cold to debate any further, mammon simply nodded before rushing away. you giggled to yourself at the sight, waiting until you could hear the shower going to head into your room. 

the clothes you kept for mammon were stored away in your own closet. a little collapsible cube held clothes you had stolen from him before moving back, and also clothes you had bought for him up in the human world. a fleeting thought of if mammon would recognise the hoodie you kept passed through your mind. with a grin, you pulled it out of the cube, along with a pair of grey sweats that you had also poached from him. you threw your own oversized shirt into the pile as well, hoping that mammon would be warm enough with only two layers. deciding it was probably enough, you headed over to the washroom, knocking a few times to announce your arrival. “mammon, i’m gonna leave the clothes on the counter, okay?” after you heard mammon shout out a reply, you cracked the door open, placing the clothes down before shuffling away quietly. 

it didn’t take mammon much longer to finish. a few minutes later, you could hear him padding down the hallway to meet you in the kitchen. “MC?” you hummed in acknowledgement. “why’d you give me pyjamas?” 

bewildered at the question, you paused your cooking to look at mammon. “you’re staying the night, aren’t you?” 

mammon paused to sneeze, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand before looking back at you. “lucifer said i should come back-” another sneeze had his body taking a physical screenshot as it froze in place. “ugh- he said i should be back tonight.” 

frowning, you scanned the white haired demon carefully. your instincts told you it was a bad idea to send him back home. “not happening.” you ignored mammon’s squawk of confusion, turning to the pot you had on the stove. “can you get my phone? it’s on my nightstand.” you turned the element on, pouring ingredients in as you did. some soup would be good for warming mammon up. 

“here,” mammon called, coming up behind you before dangling your phone in front of your face. 

chuckling, you grabbed at the phone, making sure to not let the soup spill out from the edge of the pot. you tapped your screen awake, pulling up your contacts and dialling lucifer. you didn’t give him any chance to speak; as soon as the call timer started, you were already talking. “mammon’s staying overnight, you don’t get a say in it, and i promise i’ll visit sometime. bye!” 

“MC-!” lucifer shouted at you from the other side of the line, but you were hanging up before he could say anything else.

mammon laughed at the sight, throwing his arms over your shoulders as he rested his chin on your head. “only you could do that to lucifer,” he said, voice fading away at the end of his sentence.

you felt him rub his nose into your hair briefly. “you okay? you’re sounding kinda off.” 

mammon tightened his grip on you as a response. “... ‘m just tired.” he slumped into you ever so slightly, causing concern to rise up in your stomach. 

“go sit on the couch. soup’s almost ready.” mammon’s arm slid away from you unwillingly, and you quickly noticed how he'd begun to drag his feet rather than take full steps. demons get sick so easily in the cold, you thought to yourself. as promised, the soup was finished after a few moments, so you turned the heat down and spooned some into a bowl. shooting a glance at mammon, you saw that he had dozed off while curled up on the couch. your heart fluttered briefly at the sight, but it was another reminder that the demon was not at 100%. quietly, you walked over to him, stealing a blanket from another chair before gently shaking him awake. “mammon, wake up.” a tug at your heartstrings had your chest stinging. he hadn’t been here for long at all, yet he was already starting to look like he had been sick for days. “have some soup first, then go to bed early.” 

mammon watched as you sat next to him, eyes bleary with newfound exhaustion. he didn’t bother replying, but held his hands out to receive the bowl from you. silently, you handed it to him, making sure his grip was tight before throwing the blanket around his shoulders. you adjusted the corners of the blanket carefully, practically engulfing him inside the fabric. satisfied, you smiled at mammon, gesturing to the bowl in his hands. “just a little,” you encouraged, pushing it closer to him. 

mammon sighed heavily, blinking a few times before finally shifting the bowl to one hand and grabbing the spoon in the other. he ate slowly, but under your careful gaze, eventually managed to down all of it. “thanks, human,” he murmured, eyes falling closed. swiftly, you took the bowl from his hands, setting it on the coffee table. lightly, you brushed your knuckles across his cheeks; the way he leaned into your touch was endearing.

“anything for you,” you hummed in reply, grinning when his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. “now let’s get you to bed.”

with the soup fueling him, mammon had enough strength to walk by himself. but you kept your hand floating behind him just in case. his head was foggy enough that he didn’t register you bringing him to your room until you had sat him down on your mattress. “oi, wait,” he muttered, blinking slowly as he stared at his surroundings. “this is your room, isn’t it?” 

“mammon, i only have one bed here, and it happens to be mine. so, yes, this is my room.” 

all of a sudden, sentience had returned to the second-born. his eyes flashed with guilt when he realised what you were implying. “where will you sleep?” 

“i’ll stay in the living room. i have some work to do on my laptop anyway.” 

“but-”

“no buts, mammon. you need to sleep somewhere comfortable.” you brushed his hair away from his forehead, taking a quick note of how hot he was running. “if you need anything, i’m right there.” 

mammon opened his mouth again, looking like he was ready to protest. but you pushed him down, taking your duvet and covering him with it. “sleep well,” you said softly. as you left the room, you positioned the door to leave a crack. and once you had determined that mammon had drifted to sleep, you tiptoed away to the living room.

a large portion of your work ended up finished a few hours later, just around the time you heard mammon start to wake up due to coughing fits. you waited in silence for a few minutes, hoping that he would stop in a bit. but then you heard the bed groan under him, most likely from him shifting around, so you headed over to him with a glass of water in hand. mammon was already sitting up when you arrived, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath again. “mammon?” you called to him softly, pushing the door open at the same time. 

“MC? sorry- did i wake you up?” he strangled the words out between harsh coughs, guilt creeping into his expression. 

“i wasn’t asleep yet,” you reassured him. “water?” his hand trembled as he reached out for the glass. you decided quickly to bring it to his lips instead, carefully helping him take a drink as your other hand cupped the back of his head. as he finished, you placed the glass on your nightstand, shifting to sit next to him on the mattress.

outside, snow continued to drift down. lights from the street casted shadow snowflakes onto your curtains, allowing you to watch the snowfall comfortably. mammon kept his eyes on the curtains, his exhaustion constantly reigniting despite the way his body jolted him awake with a cough. “the snow looks nice. doesn’t feel as nice, though.”

humming in agreement, you guided him to sit further forward on the bed, quickly sliding in between him and the headboard of the bed. mammon, too delirious to say anything, turned to face you. his cheeks were still flushed, but marginally less so than earlier. you smiled at him as his eyes began to droop, waiting until his head landed on your shoulder and his torso on yours before curling your arms around his waist. your hands moved up, rubbing circles into the space between his shoulder blades soothingly as his breathing started to taper off. every so often, he would startle awake as his breath hitched in his throat, but you were quick to usher him back to sleep. eventually, you felt his entire body weight on yours, and you knew that he had fallen asleep for the night. your hand continued to move in circles absentmindedly. the feeling of mammon leaning on and depending on you made your heart full. always the one to protect you in your early days of RAD, you were glad that mammon trusted you, loved you, the same way you did. with a content sigh, you pressed your lips to the crown of his head, your smile growing tenfold when mammon unconsciously pressed further into your embrace. you carded your fingers through his hair, movements gentle and hushed; the same way the snow fell outside your window. 

a/n: hello to the one who requested this and said my writing is like "coming home after a long winter's day" you should know that i cried. singlehandedly the best compliment i've ever gotten on my writing thank you so much oh my god you made my week

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

[hermitknut]

Historical Preoccupations

Hi!

So I decided a few years ago that my history + geography knowledge was dreadful and I wanted to work on it, and I've been doing that slowly. But after getting into the Nine Worlds books by Victoria Goddard, I've been reading a lot about the history of the Pacific Islands, Polynesia, and the Pacific Ocean generally, as well as related topics.

I approach everything I read with a certain amount of caution, as I am not a historian (and don't have all the tools to mind to figure out how reliable my sources are, especially as I am in the UK and most of them are not coming from the actual area in question), but it's been an enjoyable ride so far!

I thought I'd throw together a list of all the things I've been reading / have on my to read shelf with some thoughts on them. I can mostly only tell you about how readable/accessible/interesting the text is, so please don't take this as any comment on accuracy/lack of bias.

I'm making a pinned post for my tumblr that will link to this, and I'm going to try and update it as I read things.

Sea People by Christina Thompson

This was the first one I read, and I really enjoyed it! I think there's a bit of a light touch on the impact of colonialism, but her writing style is very easy to read and I found the way she approached the history very helpful. She does start with European contact, but she goes through each point in history and what they thought the history of Polynesia was and why, with what their biases brought to it. Which was fascinating!

Voyagers by Nicholas Thomas

This was a drier read than the Thompson, but it covered roughly the same historical span and helped add a different angle in a few places. The illustrations/photos were very helpful, too, and it's broken up into small enough sections to keep it moving.

Blue Machine by Helen Czerski

A slight step to the left, topic-wise - this is about how the ocean works, how it effects the world, and how people and animals use it. It opens and closes with the author's time sailing near Hawai'i on an outrigger canoe, and while some of the science went over my head, most of it was really interesting and gave me a much more layered picture of what's going on in all that water.

Pacific by Philip J. Hatfield

I've just started this, so I'll add more to this description later; but this is a beautifully illustrated book that is going through the history of the area in small slices. So far it's very readable, and is helping me settle some of the knowledge I've been learning in my mind.

Upcoming reads:

Sailing Alone by Richard J. King

Another slight step to one side, this is a collection of stories of solo-sails seems fascinating - hopefully it's as interesting as it looks!

A Brief History of the Pacific by Jeremy Black

One of several "brief history of [ocean]" books by the same author, seems quite short and will hopefully be a good simple overview before I tackle...

Waves Across the South by Sujit Sivasundaram

I'm somewhat intimidated by this one because it's ~500 pages, but hopefully I can tackle it this year, because it does sound really interesting, and like it's going to go into some greater socio-political depth than my previous reads. Fingers crossed!

Oceania: The Shape of Time by Maia Nuku

The first art book I've ever owned! I think it's going to go into more technical art detail than I'd usually read, but that's probably good for me in the branching-out sense. And it's a beautifully made book, heavy on the photographs and images.

Under consideration:

I'm not letting myself buy any more until I've caught up, but these are some of the other titles I know about (and am eyeing with varying degrees of interest - I definitely want the Low, though I'm currently having trouble sourcing it).

The Happy Isles of Oceania by Paul Theroux

Hawaiki Rising by Sam Low

Come on Shore and We Will Kill and Eat You All by Christina Thompson

Wayfinding by M R O'Connor

Wayfinding by Michael Bond

I'd love to hear any suggestions of titles on the topic, particularly anything from Polynesian authors!

[pure-electric]

~an introduction to ecobricking~

hello fellow solarpunks! i've been interested in ecobricking for a while but i recently invested some time into researching them so here's a guide! it's a responsible way to sequester plastic from the environment, but making them is slightly more involved than just stuffing plastic in a bottle, if you want to use them for construction or weight-bearing projects like furniture. I'm mainly using information from GoBrik, which had the most comprehensive guide, but feel free to comment or rb with supplemental information.

FAQ:

Isn't it better to recycle plastic rather than ecobricking?

There are many plastics, such as food wrappers or packaging, that can't be recycled and end up degrading rapidly. Ecobricking sequesters those kinds of plastics from the ecosystem and also reduces the surface area exposed, which limits plastic degredation over time.

How do you use ecobricks?

You can use ecobricks in many applications, from furniture to structures. The long-term environmental impact of using ecobricks is still speculated on, but responsible upkeep mitigates their potential environmental impacts, which are still far less than the impact that plastic would have were it not sequestered.

How To Ecobrick:

Find a plastic bottle. The bottles that you use for ecobricking should all be the same variety, which will help in any building projects that you may choose to use them for.

Find some plastic! Make sure to wash and dry your plastic, as any food residue or moisture could make your brick moldy or structurally unsound. You can cut up larger pieces of plastic, like food packaging (think bags of shredded cheese or frozen berries, or the plastic bags inside cereal boxes)-- just pack em in. If you want to be fancy, GoBrik recommends making the bottom layer of your ecobrick all one color, for aesthetic purposes later on. But it's really up to you. Please avoid putting biodegradable material, such as cardboard or paper, as well as glass or metal, in your ecobrick-- it'll affect the density and preferred composition. Plus, you can recycle those!

Calculate the density! This is the only part that involves math, I swear. You want to aim for a density of about 0.37 grams per milliliter; it shouldn't be under 0.33 g/ml or it'll be structurally unsound. It's also good to aim for a density less than 0.7 g/ml, or your bricks might be too heavy to move comfortably. The equation is just the weight in grams divided by the milliliters of the container you're using, so, for example, if you used a bottle than was 1250 ml, you would be aiming for about 475-500 g of plastic (including the bottle). (a kitchen scale is great for weighing, and you can thrift them pretty easily) Of course, if you're ecobricking to sequester plastic and not necessarily to build, you don't need to worry too much about the density, but if you wanted to donate your ecobricks to a project in the future I would encourage you to try to keep track of density.

Cap your bottle tightly, leaving 1-2 cm at the top of the bottle (basically, you don't want the cap to bulge, because it will make the cap degrade rapidly and crack). Label them with the density of the bottle (if it's relevant) and the date (so you know how long the brick has been around so you can maintain it if needed)-- nail polish works the best. Keep them out of the elements (especially the sun) and off the ground until you plan to use them.

There are tons of ways to use ecobricks! I'll link a few ideas below.

https://ecobricks.org/en/build.php

https://ecobricks.org/en/modules.php

anways, happy bricking! i'll post a picture of my finished ecobrick when it's done (hopefully not soon!)

Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ecobricks

https://ecobricks.org/en/how.php

[ammg-old2]

It was December of 1996 when Karen Lips turned up the first bodies—and finally felt an ember of hope. As a graduate student working in the muggy forests of Central America, she’d noticed that an as-yet-unnamed culprit had been stripping the area of its frogs. Regions that had once rung with a chorus of croaks were silent and still, but no one had found the carcasses that could speak to a cause. With those finally in hand, “I remember thinking, Wow, this might actually be helpful,” Lips told me. Surely, data would beget a solution; surely, the frogs’ declines would now be reversed.

More than 25 years later, Lips has felt much of that early spark of hope fizzle and flame out. Scientists did indeed go on to identify the amphibian-killing pathogen: the fungus Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis, or Bd for short. But Bd has not been stopped. Instead, it has spread to every continent where frogs and their close cousins are found. “If you pick up an amphibian here in the U.S., on average you have a 50 percent chance of picking up one that’s infected with Bd,” said Lips, who now runs her own lab at the University of Maryland. Eradication is no longer possible; the fungus has established itself in too many animals, in too many places. Lips sometimes imagines the planet coated in a layer of fungus that grows back when poked, prodded, or torn. “I’m not sure I have optimism,” she told me, not anymore.

Bd is the paragon of a pandemic. It has been described as perhaps the most devastating disease the world has ever recorded, in terms of its species scope and death toll. A pathogen that wriggles inside amphibian skin cells and causes fatal heart attacks, the fungus is estimated to have contributed to the decline of about 500 amphibian species, about 90 of which have been driven to extinction; more are expected to follow, sending ripples through countless food webs. Bd is also, outside of tight circles of amphibian enthusiasts, little known, and barely addressed. For the network of researchers who have devoted decades of their lives to combatting it, hope has long been hard to keep alive. And in the past three years, as another outbreak—this one, a plague of humans—erupted into public consciousness, their prospects for success have felt even dimmer.

Bd wasn’t always thought of as a permanent planetary scourge. When scientists first began to study the pathogen, “it was not looked at as a hardy organism,” Lips told me. Several antifungals, including a drug called itraconazole, can easily wipe it out in test tubes; so can potent chemicals released by multiple species of bacteria, including some that naturally reside on certain amphibians’ skin. Researchers actually have to fight to keep the finicky fungus growing in the lab: Even small perturbations in temperature or salt content are enough to nuke it, forcing scientists to start their cultures over from scratch. “We used to joke about how easy it was to kill,” Lips said.

Out in the wild, though, Bd rapidly proved itself to be far more formidable. Some research suggests that the fungus can linger in the environment for days or weeks, awaiting its next host; it is a fast evolver, too, with the ability to essentially “add or kick out chromosomes at will,” says Trent Garner, a biologist at the Zoological Society of London and University College London. The range of animals it can trouble is also staggeringly large: The fungus seems to be able to infect just about any of the 8,000-plus species of amphibians it encounters, transmitting directly through skin-to-skin contact, or by releasing sperm-shaped spores into water. It’s hardy; it’s ubiquitous; it’s impossible to permanently purge. Boot it out of one population, and it just moves into the next.

Researchers, having acknowledged that Bd’s threat will never completely dissipate, still try their best to mitigate its harms. Antifungals work, at least in limited contexts: About a decade ago, a team of scientists led by Garner used them (along with disinfectants) to eliminate Bd from several ponds in Majorca, Spain. Some researchers are also experimenting with probiotics that can be slathered onto amphibians like “a topical yogurt” to imbue their skin with fungus-fighting bugs, says Molly Bletz, a disease ecologist and conservation biologist at UMass Boston who’s working on one such intervention. Other scientists are looking into Bd-focused vaccines, or selective breeding in captivity—even engineered genetic tweaks—that could make certain species less vulnerable to disease. Some researchers are trying to mobilize amphibians out of Bd-infested areas; chauffeur them into fungus-free havens; or seed their habitats with crustacean micropredators, such as water fleas, that might snarf Bd down.

The tricky thing with all of these tempering tactics, though, is that they’re ultra-laborious—with little guarantee that the effects will last. In zoos, frogs that are cleared of Bd with drugs get “reinfected all the time,” Lips told me. And that’s after researchers “treat them all,” a proportion that would be infeasible in the wild. The looming specter of fungal evolution also keeps herpetologists up at night. Obed Hernández-Gómez, an evolutionary ecologist at Dominican University, in California, has found that it can take as few as 15 generations for Bd to evolve resistance to the molecules made by certain probiotic bacteria; the case is probably comparable with antifungals, though the phenomenon hasn’t been well studied. Some also worry that any chemical, bacterial, or environmental intervention could come with serious consequences for creatures that coexist with frogs, or for the frogs themselves.

Vaccines could be a more lasting intervention, with fewer environmental ripple effects. But effective immunizations don’t yet exist. Cold-blooded amphibians are also a challenging group to vaccinate. “Their immune systems are really slow,” Bletz told me, especially when temperatures dip. Even vetted vaccines wouldn’t pass protection down through the generations, requiring scientists to make regular trips into the field. Interventions in captive contexts, too, may serve only as a stopgap. The idea is to “breed them, then return them to their habitats,” says Ana Longo, a herpetologist at the University of Florida. “But if the pathogen is still there, is it worth it to spend all this effort?”

People, too, could get their act together. Humans seem to have ferried the fungus, once restricted to parts of Asia, around the globe, via imported or stowaway amphibians. Better regulation of the international trade in these animals could reduce the global burden, but Bd has already spread to nearly all frog-inhabited corners of the world, save for maybe Papua New Guinea and a few nearby island outposts, and its ubiquity is seen by many as a foregone conclusion. Researchers have also been distracted, for the past 10 years or so, by another fungal outbreak caused by a sister species called Bsal that mainly targets salamanders. Bsal hasn’t yet been detected in North America, the “hot spot” of salamander diversity, Hernández-Gómez said, and the effort to keep it out has gobbled up herpetologists’ attention, pushing Bd to the sidelines. And among some policy makers, there’s been a pervasive attitude of “what exactly do you want us to do?” Lips told me. “It’s already here.”

That sentiment has seemed particularly familiar of late, Bd experts told me, now that the world is grappling with another pandemic-caliber disease, this one trained on humans. COVID has forced a reckoning with the same sorts of questions as the frog fungus, and produced similar stalemates: What level of suffering is sustainable, or tolerable? What do you do when a disease is still raging but many people seem to have tired of fighting it? As with Bd, the coronavirus has no silver-bullet solution. Both are here to stay.

Lips has been gathering data that could draw more direct connections between amphibians’ well-being and our own. She and her colleagues recently published a paper proposing that the decline of amphibians in Central America may have led to a boom in populations of mosquitoes—typical frog fare—and raised the risk of malaria among people. Though even infectious threats to Homo sapiens can be easy to ignore. Our response to the coronavirus pandemic, in particular, felt like “a slap in the face,” Hernández-Gómez said. “If humans don’t even care about a disease that’s killing off their own,” Bletz told me, “how are they going to care about something that affects amphibians?”

In broad strokes, much of the rest of the Bd and Bsal story may feel written: More populations will dwindle; more species will disappear, many of them far from human habitations, where they may, once again, escape the notice of most. Perhaps more species will ultimately adapt to resist or tolerate Bd, and so the struggle continues to “keep populations in the wild for as long a time as possible, to give more time for natural selection to act,” says Ben Scheele, a disease ecologist at Australian National University who’s working to save his nation’s corroboree frogs. But even on an evolutionary timescale, there are no guarantees: Where frogs go, the fungus seems to follow.

“There’s almost nothing we can do, in a way, and that’s the sad part,” says Timothy James, a chytrid-fungus expert at the University of Michigan. Lips has held dying frogs in her hand, each of them sluggish, discombobulated, and weak, sometimes to the point where they can no longer muster the energy to try to wrest themselves free. “They just sort of sit there, even if you bend to pick them up,” she told me. Their deaths are slow, subtle affairs—agonizing fades that have become, like so many other infectious endings, a kind of background noise.

Some of the experts I spoke with told me there is still plenty of room for optimism—that the efforts of the few could still turn the tide, especially against the less pervasive Bsal. Others, although far from giving up on the Bd battle, feel more conflicted. At the start of the COVID outbreak, Lips felt another wellspring of hope burble up in her chest. She gave talks. She told people, “This is not my first pandemic.” Maybe, she thought, there would be a surge in interest in infectious disease; maybe, she thought, people would understand the importance of conservation, and keeping ecosystems intact. That’s not what happened. “I had hoped COVID would be our success story,” she said. “But I went from ‘This will be a motivating factor to do better!’ to ‘Wow, we’re kind of losing momentum again.’”

Lips still remembers what Costa Rica’s tropics looked like in the 1990s, before Bd was truly known. She recalls the feeling of becoming enamored of the spectacular green coloring and the nubby spiked skin of the region’s Isthmohyla calypsa tree frogs. Isthmohyla calypsa is now no longer in Costa Rica: Bd has driven it out. And Lips no longer does much fieldwork. A lot of pain comes with confronting the froglessness—trying to count creatures that she and others worry will no longer be countable in a few years’ time. Lips’ current research—some of it geared toward influencing policy, and buoying biodiversity as a whole—does keep her going. But as the frogs continue to vanish, so too does the work of the scientists who study them. “Where do I go?” she said. “Where are the frogs?”

[dameronscopilot]

quiet

Marc Spector x reader

summary: You and Marc both needed this—a break from the city, the quiet stillness of the woods, the warmth of this cabin.

word count: 500+

content: fluff, suggestive themes

SENSORY DRABBLES SERIES -> prompt: Marc Spector + smoke & wood + brown

The first thing you notice when you rouse from sleep is the quiet.

It’s nearly silent in the cabin, save for Marc’s slow, steady breathing beside you and the birds tittering on the roof. You’ve grown so used to the city’s endless onslaught of sound, the ceaseless cacophony traversing the sidewalks and streets outside your windows from dawn till dusk and long into the hours beyond, that you’ve nearly forgotten what silence sounds like.

The flannel sheets are soft against your skin as you stretch your limbs, the bed frame letting out a creak of protest at the movement. You’re almost surprised Marc hasn’t stirred yet; normally he’s up long before you, nursing a cup of coffee in the kitchen and picking at a slice of toast covered in a thin layer of strawberry jam.

Glancing around, you take in the cabin’s rustic interior in the gentle glow of the morning light pouring in through the windows—it was dark when you and Marc pulled up the long, winding dirt path late yesterday. The distinct smell of wood fills the room, encompassing the space in an earthy warmth despite the fall chill ruthlessly permeating the last remaining dredges of summer hanging in the air outside.

Maybe you’ll try and convince Marc to stay a few more days.

The way he slept like the dead last night says enough—you both needed this.

While you don’t want to disturb him, you can’t help but scoot closer, pressing your chest to his solid back and wrapping your arms around him. The rich scent of smoke from last night’s campfire still clings heavily to his hair. You nose at his dark curls, inhaling deeply and picking up the faint, lingering notes of soap buried beneath.

When you first started dating, you’d teased Marc incessantly about his particular affinity for the green bar of soap always nestled on the shelf in his bathroom—it was the most generic, no frills brand, and he refused to buy anything else.

And yet all these years later, you’ve come to crave the familiar, clean scent of that soap that always lingers across his skin. In his hair. On his clothes.

Because now that scent is home to you.

You can feel yourself traipsing back along the tempting precipice of slumber when the sound of Marc’s sleep-rough voice pulls you back.

“Why am I the little spoon right now?”

You laugh, hugging him tighter, and he groans fondly as you counter, “Steven insists on being the little spoon, you know.”

Between one moment and the next, you suddenly find yourself pinned beneath Marc as he hovers over top of you, the sheets pooled at his waist, one of his hands holding down your wrist as the other skirts the side of your face. And for a moment, as his face moves into the ray of light stretching lazily across the bed, you find yourself completely and entirely distracted by the way the sun fills his deep brown eyes, the illuminated shade akin to the effect of milk seeping into coffee.

Marc leans in, nose brushing against yours as he strokes the curve of your jaw with his thumb and whispers conspiratorially, “Well, Steven’s not here right now.”

“I guess you can be the big spoon then,” you concede with a smile.

You lift your head, stealing a chaste kiss. But as you let yourself fall back against the pillow, Marc follows you down, his lips insistently pressing into yours for another kiss, one far headier.

One that leaves you dizzy and breathless as his tongue skirts along the seam of your mouth, his body heat washing over you.

Nipping at your bottom lip, Marc's fingertips skate across the waistband of your shorts as he murmurs, "I have a better idea."

[ftmhog]

Hooters girl to fat slob transformation

“Hey hon, my name’s Gabby welcome to Hooters what can I get started for ya?” Allison rolls her eyes as the bubbly young waitress places her hand on her husbands shoulder

God why did we have to go here for his birthday

“We’ll just have two waters” Allison sneers before Matt can say anything “and maybe tone it down sweetheart. He’s married after all”

“Please I’m just doing my job” Gabby scoffs “besides no one wants your fat loser husband anyway”

Gabby struts away as Allison seethes

“Come on honey, let’s just have a nice dinner out” Matt chimes in

“Okay babe, I’ll drop it” Allison says

That little bitch will get what she deserves

A week later, Allison returns to Hooters, alone this time

“Hi, can I please be sat in Gabby’s section”

“Yeah absolutely! Right this way” the hostess beams as she leads Allison to her table

“Hi, my name’s Gab- oh what the hell do you want?” Gabby sputters to a halt as she sees Allison

“Hi sweetheart” Allison smirks “I didn’t want to ruin my husband’s birthday but you need to know you can’t treat people like that. Now be a good girl and put me down for a pitcher of beer and five dozen wings”

“Whatever. I’ll be right your beer you weird alcoholic”

Gabby returns and sets down a large pitcher of beer and a cold glass and starts to leave

“Now sweetheart don’t you know it’s not polite to run away so fast. I can see you don’t have any other tables. Sit with me and have a beer”

Gabby glances around the empty restaurant before plopping down in the chair

Allison pours a glass of beer and slides it over to Gabby

“So tell me about yourself. I want to know all about the silly little waitress and why she thinks she’s so much better than me and my husband”

“We’ll for one I actually take care of myself. I somehow manage to find time to go to the gym every day even with how busy I am. I literally am in law school and working here. I’m like the biggest badass ever” Gabby takes a big sip of beer as she finishes her sentence.

Allison smirks softly as she watches as the young waitress starts to transform.

Gabby’s belly gurgles and starts to bloat, slowly expanding past her breasts. Her ass begins to widen in the chair

“So you really go to the gym everyday?” Allison asks as the spell begins to take hold of Gabby’s mind

“God no. Who has the time for that. Besides i get so many tips being the only curvy girl here. Men love a girl with an ass” Gabby takes another big swig and muffles a small belch

As Allison watches amused, Gabby’s gut swells even bigger, beginning to hang between her thick thighs. Her breasts begin to shrink and sag as her implants dissolve and fat fills them. A bit of beer drips on to her new double chin

“Fuck I love beer. Wanna pour me another glass?” Gabby grunts out. Allison smiles sweetly and pours the large girl another glass that she chugs down, letting out a large belch in the empty restaurant, not caring who might see or here.

Gabby grows even larger, weight skyrocketing to well over 500 pounds. The once skinny girl is covered in thick layers of flab. Her belly hangs down to her knees. Her fatty arms and legs lose all of the hard earned muscle definition

“And you were saying you were studying to be a lawyer?”

“Fuck no. I didn’t even finish high school. That smart shit is too much for me. Besides I’ve got too many games to play”

Gabby’s transformation begins to reach her brain, erasing almost a decade of hard work and academic excellence and replaces it with memories of being a lazy stoner dropout who spends all her time playing video games, eating, and rubbing her fat cunt

“God look at you. You’re such a fat pig” Allison gaps, thrilled at her work. Gabby let’s put a loud belch in response

“Um hi there, I’m not sure where your waitress went but here’s those wings you ordered” another waitress gingerly sets down five dozen. Gabby immediately grabs wings in both hands and begins to alternate between shoving wings in her fat mouth and taking swigs of beer

Allison stands and leaves, happy with her revenge and knowing there was another useless fat slob in the world

[bengiyo]

Love in the Big City Part 3 Check In

This has taken me a lot longer to write than I expected. Part of it is being a bit under the weather, but a major part is the ache I felt for the narrator at being unable to sustain a long-term relationship with someone who was ready to pour so much love over him. Like with Jaehee, so much of his relationship with Gyu-ho is full of small details about how they took care of each other and how they supported each other, and it pains me that he wasn’t able to keep this.

As usual, I appreciate the narrator letting me know that, like (500) Days of Summer (2009), this is a story about a breakup so that I have the right framework when we’re reading this. As we moved into this section, I was relieved to see that Young finally had something resembling friends. Still, I was not surprised that they’re essentially younger drinking buddies that he feels like a pseudo-babysitter for. His relationship with them is fairly shallow, and they end up reinforcing his reticence inflicted by his status.

Revealing that Young has been positive this entire time was one of the most affective experiences I’ve had while reading this book. It adds a new layer to his determination to pay for Jaehee’s abortion, because he maybe thought that at least this was a lifelong consequence he could help someone else he loved avoid. It also reframes how hurt he was that Jaehee told her fiancé that he was gay, because he doesn’t want anyone to know about his status and now he can’t trust Jaehee to hold that secret.

I feel like I have to treat the narrator whose relationship with Hyung as a different person from the narrator of this story, because it is rather telling about how serious he is about Gyu-ho that he never revealed his status to Hyung despite hooking up regularly for months.

With Gyu-ho, I think I am so sad about the apartment itself. The narrator infuses this section with so many references to all the little and big things they do for each other, but one of the big realities they face is that the apartment is too small for the both of them. Gyu-ho showed up and did the most romantic thing of hanging the curtains, but they needed a bigger place once it became the primary residence for both of them, especially when Gyu-ho got stable employment. However, the narrator can't take that step forward because it would be too much commitment.

It's sad, because Gyu-ho was 100% in this relationship. He was given all the information and committed to this man as his partner. He even went so far as to help him commit fraud to get around a blood test. Still, Young's avoidant nature gets in the way. He doesn't even call his illness by his name, so it's likely he doesn't know if he's undetectable (thought it may be too early for those drugs to be in circulation).

I'm not sure what awaits us in the final section. As difficult and violent as the separation from Hyung was, I find myself missing Gyu-ho days later, and all that their relationship represented as an opportunity for the two of them. They seemed to work well, and you have to wonder how many gays are like the narrator, and find the mundanity of commitment tiresome and boring. Perhaps that's why he only has friends in their early 20s.

[shadowqueenjude]

Jassa wedding!

This takes place AFTER my story where Lucien loses his shit and does something crazy!

Epilogue --> 2 years later Lucien imagined this would be the first time in history Prythian ever hosted a wedding between two humans.

He chuckled at the thought, knowing Tamlin would be proud. He had always been a radical; hosting an all-human wedding seemed like the kind of thing he would do.

He wondered what his people would think of it. That their new High Lord of Spring had two humans for best friends, and that he was going to be the best man at their wedding.

He imagined many people wouldn’t be happy about it. Well, they were just going to have to deal with it.

They weren’t any ordinary humans, anyway. They were now the Queen and Prince-consort of the human lands. Once Vassa obtained her freedom, it didn’t take long for her to kick her fellow queens to the curb. She was a badass like that.

And finally, after two years of Lucien telling the two idiots to just get married already, they’d finally agreed on one condition: Lucien had to host their wedding.

Lucien had planned on doing it anyway, but he pretended to be all hung up over it for a little while.

And now he stood beside his best friend, Jurian, who was waiting for Vassa to come down the aisle. His silver wedding outfit would’ve been very grand if it weren’t for the gigantic eye woven into the middle of the dress robes. Jurian had insisted on it, saying it was destiny that he get married with a gigantic eye on his clothes since he was an eye for 500 years and his best man had lost an eye 50 years ago, both to the same woman. Lucien had shaken his head, but he couldn’t deny it was absolutely hilarious. Lucien had added a little magic to the eye, so all the wedding guests were extremely uncomfortable because the eye moved every once in a while. Lucien had to resist the urge to laugh every time he looked at the eye.

Marigolds and dahlias lined the aisle. Lucien had insisted on no roses, considering how the last wedding went; they were cursed to him now.

“What do you imagine her dress looks like?” Jurian muttered to Lucien from the corner of his eye.

Lucien snorted. “You say that like I don’t already know what it looks like.”

“What? She showed you?”

“No. But I’m not so easily foiled.” Lucien said, winking at Jurian, who scowled. “Fuck off.”

“Who’ll be your best man, then?”

Jurian opened his mouth to reply, then his jaw dropped as he stared at Vassa.

Her off-the-shoulder dress was exquisite; Lucien had made sure of that. Layers upon layer of orange tulle flowed around her, and wings sprouted from the back of the dress. A costume for a firebird. Lucien had made sure to put a tiara in her hair as well so that no one forgot her queen status.

Jurian’s eyes just about popped out of his skull. The scent of his arousal clogged Lucien’s nose. “Dude, calm down. Think of something nasty. Like being an eye for 500 years.”

The arousal instantly dispersed. “Thanks, bro,” he muttered. “Don’t mention it,” Lucien said.

Vassa reached the end of the aisle and took Jurian’s hand. The priestesses began their prayers, and Lucien’s eyes drifted to his mate and wife. Elain beamed at him from the front row. She looked lovely in a simple floral lavender dress. To her right sat Nesta and Eris in matching green robes. To her left sat Feyre and Azriel in Night Court black.

“You look handsome,” Elain mouthed at him. Lucien blushed.

Soon the prayers ended and Jurian and Vassa began their vows.

“Jurian, I knew you were an idiot from the start,” Vassa said. “But your idiocy grew on me. I find it amazing that you were imprisoned by Amarantha for 500 years and you never broke. You’re so strong, and even though you suck at most things, you’re an incredible general and king. Most importantly, in my toughest moments, when I was imprisoned by Koschei, you stuck with me through it all. So, you fucking idiot, I love you.”

Lucien resisted the urge to snort, but Jurian actually had tears in his eyes. To each their own.

“My beautiful Vassa, you flounced into my life after my 500 year imprisonment and absolutely turned my life upside down. I don’t know where I would be without you to humble me at every turn. Even though you were imprisoned by a death god, you never broke, and the moment you got free you kicked your fellow queens to the curb, and it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. So, my firebird, I love you too.”

Lucien looked away as they kissed, focusing on Elain instead.

Elain blew him a kiss. Lucien grinned like an idiot, but he didn’t care. He never thought he could be this happy. He only wished Tamlin was still here to see it.

Lucien waited for his cue. Vassa tugged on her ear, and Lucien set the edges of her dress on fire. A true firebird. Vassa grinned as the fire set off her fiery hair, tied back in an elegant ponytail. Jurian’s eyes were starstruck as he gazed at her. Lucien smiled.

Soon, it was time for the best man’s speech. Lucien cleared his throat. “When I first met Jurian, it took all of my self-control to not rip out his throat.” Jurian grinned. “I never would’ve expected that soon after that we’d be best friends. It was the worst time of my life. I’d been kicked out of two courts, and I would always be an outsider in the other. I fell in with Jurian and Vassa, who also had no family of their own. And we made our own family. The sexual tension between these two fools was crazy, but they were so stubborn they wouldn’t get married until I agreed to host their wedding. So, here we are. All hail Queen Vassa, and her prince-consort, Jurian!”

The crowd cheered. Lucien’s heart soared.

Everything was starting to settle down now. Prythian was becoming the place it always should’ve been.

Tamlin’s dream would live on.

[ryin-silverfish]

Chapter 14: The Mind Monkey Cometh!

-This chapter begins with a poem by Zhang Boduan, a Daoist master of the Quanzhen Sect whose theory of internal alchemy heavily inspired that of JTTW's, and would appear later in the book as an immortal guest star.

"The dharmakaya has no shape or form…"

-Hmm, what is a dharmakaya? The Yu translation doesn't have a footnote for that, so here's my brief explanation: in Mahayana Buddhist beliefs, there's the idea of the Trikaya, the Three Bodies of the Buddha——three facets of existence for an enlightened being.

-Dharmakaya, "Body of the Law"(法身), is the bits of pure existence and universal Buddha-nature in all living things that is immutable and eternal.

-Sambhogakaya, "Body of Benefits"(报身), is the miraculous body a practitioner attains after countless trials and cultivation that receives all the good karma they have accumulated over the years.

-Nirmanakaya, "Manifested Body/Body of Transformation"(应身), is the physical form a Buddha/Bodhisattva takes in order to assist and educate the masses, and can be anything, from a holy statue to a person to a plate of food.

(Very unserious analogy: if Buddhahood is water, dharma-kaya is like H2O molecules, sambhoga-kaya is like the ocean, and nirmana-kaya is the convenient cup of drink nearby that can quench your thirst.)

-Boqin mentioned that SWK was trapped under the mountain during the time of Wang Mang's usurpation(9-23 CE), between Western and Eastern Han dynasty. Which, if we are to be chronologically accurate, would be 600-something years before Tripataka's pilgrimage instead of 500.

-The 100 years off may post a problem to people who wanna calculate SWK's birth year and age for fun; I, however, am more interested in the fact that he was either born in the Spring-Autumn or Warring States period, and the earlier option would make him a contemporary of Confucius(551-479 BCE).

-Just imagine him going "Confucius? Really tall guy, lotta students, wandered from state to state lookin' for work? Yep, I think I ran into an old man like that while seeking immortality!"

-Allegorically, the Six Robbers represent the six senses, something the footnote has pointed out. However, I feel like this warrants a more in-depth explanation.

-The Yogacara School——not the Ming administrative division, but the tradition of Buddhist thought the historical Xuanzang followed, has a theory of consciousness that divides the mind into eight layers. The first five layers are the five senses, and the inputs they receive are sent to the sixth layer of Thought for processing.

(Reference to these six also appears in the Heart Sutra: "None is shown by eye, ear, nose, tongue, body nor mind"——无眼耳鼻舌身意)

-Beneath the sixth layer is the seventh layer, Manas, which sends the processed information to the eighth layer, and is the layer responsible for the illusion of selfhood + all the woes that stem from said illusion. The final layer, Alaya-vijnana, is the consciousness that stores all information in the universe, and contains the bits of inherent Buddha-nature obscured by regular human cognition.

-The historical Xuanzang had a poem that referred to Alaya as the "Master/Head of Household", and the Yogacara theory of consciousness was also taken up by later Daoist thinkers, who believed that Alaya was the same as the internal alchemy concept of "Spiritual Mind"(元神).

-That's why SWK refers to himself as the Six Robbers' proper master, the True Mind who is supposed to dominate these senses. However, my personal reading of the allegory is that he isn't the True Mind yet, and his killing of the Six Robbers is akin to someone who uses extreme means to free themself from worldly distractions.

-Like, sensory pleasures and experiences can be very distracting and serve as a serious obstacle to getting things done, but you don't free yourself from those distractions by blinding your eyes and cutting out your tongue and engaging in self-imposed sensory deprivation.

-Thus, Tripataka's chastisement isn't just about SWK committing multiple homicides and violating Buddhist laws. The way I see it, it's also a subtle way of telling you that the mastery of heart and mind cannot be forced, and a truly powerful practitioner is one who can triumph over the distractions of the senses without cutting themself off from the world.

@journeythroughjourneytothewest

[tellmewhatyouc]

Title: two, maybe three Fandom: NU: carnival Characters: Quincy & Blade, Quincy & everyone Words: 500 a drabble sequence for @nuflashfic's birthday drabbles! read on ao3 or right here on tumblr 🎂💤

“Ku-Ku, how old is Quin-Quin?”

Kuya glanced up from the book he’d been skimming in a moment of boredom. Blade had a habit of appearing out of nowhere, so Kuya was hardly surprised to see him in the otherwise quiet library.

“Old enough,” Kuya answered. “I doubt he’s counting anymore.”

“Hm…” Blade tapped a finger on his chin. “A hundred?”

“At least.” Kuya’s gaze settled on his book again. “Maybe two, three.”

“Okay! We can have our dinner outside, then.”

Kuya raised an eyebrow, but didn’t bother looking up as Blade skipped away. He was sure he’d find context later.

Quincy wasn’t usually one for a party, but he couldn’t refuse a meal in his honor— especially one made by Yakumo. They’d set up a large table in the mansion’s garden, and the scenery amidst the sunset made for a soothing atmosphere.

Thankfully, there wasn’t all too much fanfare as the other guests arrived, only friendly greetings and a few small trinkets as gifts. Throughout dinner, Quincy listened to the chitchat around the table, finding it more enjoyable than he had around that time a year ago. So much had changed in such a short span of time… particularly, Rei sat beside Quincy now, quiet but seemingly content in everyone’s company.

The meal was, as Quincy expected, delicious. He was completely satisfied, more than ready for a good night’s sleep, but it seemed the celebration wasn’t over yet— Blade was the first to stand from his seat, grabbing Yakumo’s hand before they rushed back into the house.

“You’re gonna stick around for dessert, right?” Eiden nudged Quincy’s arm with his elbow, answering his question almost immediately. “Blade said it’s really special.”

Quincy raised an eyebrow. He was tired… but he supposed sleep could wait. “Sure.”

“Great! He said I have to blindfold you, though.”

It was… concerning. But Quincy doubted Blade had anything malicious going on, so he didn’t protest as Eiden secured a piece of fabric over his eyes. He heard some shuffling around, whispering, laughter… and eventually smelled the distinct scent of something burning.

“Okay, you can look now!” Blade called out.

Nothing could have prepared Quincy for the sight before him.

He first noticed the flames, like a bonfire burning in an open area of the garden. While Eiden led him closer, he realized there was, in fact, a cake under there. The multi-layered cake was almost as tall as Blade himself— an easy comparison, as Blade was the only one standing remotely close to the thing.

“Happy birthday!” Blade announced in a singsong voice. “Make a wish!”

Quincy looked at the other clan members, a safer distance away from the inferno. Some looked anxious (mainly Yakumo), some were horrified (mainly Edmond), and some were barely holding back laughter (most notably, Kuya).

After he had a moment to take everything in, really process the sheer absurdity of the situation, Quincy couldn’t help laughing himself.

He didn’t have anything to wish for; he was happy where he was.