#remnant population

[phaedraismyusername]

Hi hello I have been knee deep in a genre binge so here are some literary sci-fi books that deal with loneliness as a core theme

I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman

Translated from French this book follows the youngest girl in a group of 40 women who are being kept in a cage underground in an unknown place, for unknown reasons, until one day they get the chance to escape triggering a search for answers and survival on a desolate surface.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

This is a very subtle dystopian story about a group of people who spend their childhoods at an extremely secretive english boarding school, the course of their relationships, and where they are at the end of their lives. There's a subtle feeling of wrongness from the first chapter and the author spends the rest of the novel very slowly revealing the reasons why.

Everything You Ever Wanted by Luiza Sauma

The super short form pitch for this book is 'Fleabag if there was an option to yeet herself to another planet'. Iris is in a long term relationship with depression, kind of hates her pointless job, sometimes hates her family, and is generally overwhelmed by the weight of existence, when she hears about Nyx - earth's first space colony - and thinks that just maybe it could be the answer to all her problems.

Remnant Population by Elizabeth Moon

When the population of a company sponsored colony finds out they have been designated a failure and the people are to be packed up and shipped off to another planet to try again, one little old lady decides that for the first time in her long life she's going to break the rules - she's going to stay and live her best life alone on the planet, and finally get some peace and quiet. What could go wrong?

Skyward Inn by Aliya Whiteley

Skyward Inn is an odd little book set in a future where Earth has come into contact with an alien world that quickly surrendered to humanity. The story follows a small group of kind of unlikeable people who live behind the walls of the 'western protectorate' - a place in the moors that's decided to isolate itself and live like the old days with rudimentary technology for a simple life. Until strangers appear and things start to get... weird. Slower, stranger and with more body horror than you might expect.

[foggyjune]

"In the nights, she was herself, a strange person she did not know, a person she might just remember, from childhood." - Elizabeth Moon, Remnant Population

[queen-mabs-revenge]

ok this is def a 'you can see the demographic of this site aging' post but like...did you know that you have to buy pillow inserts at a bigger size than the pillow covers??? did you????

because i had to replace some pillow inserts and my apparently foolish ass thought 'oh 22" pillow covers -- clearly i buy 22" pillow inserts' and ohhhhnonono that way lies soggy sad floppy pillows!

so bc i dragged a giant bag of 4 pillow inserts on public transport once and i'm not fucking doing it again, i just used some old bedsheets i had around to make three 24" inserts, ripped open the too-small ones and split the fourth one into thirds to make up for the increased space et voilà

shoulda taken a pic of them before but rest assured these are the grapes to the raisins they were

[sea-critter]

scenes from today’s walk

[withbriefthanksgiving]

The director of the New York Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights of the UN (UN OHCHR), Craig Mokhiber, has resigned in a letter dated 28 October 2023

the resignation letter can be found embedded in this tweet by Rami Atari (@.Raminho) dated 31 October 2023.

The letters are here:

Transcription:

United Nations | Nations Unies

HEADQUARTERS I SIEGE I NEW YORK, NY 10017

28 October 2023

Dear High Commissioner,

This will be my last official communication to you as Director of the New York Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights.

I write at a moment of great anguish for the world, including for many of our colleagues. Once again, we are seeing a genocide unfolding before our eyes, and the Organization that we serve appears powerless to stop it. As someone who has investigated human rights in Palestine since the 1980s, lived in Gaza as a UN human rights advisor in the 1990s, and carried out several human rights missions to the country before and since, this is deeply personal to me.

I also worked in these halls through the genocides against the Tutsis, Bosnian Muslims, the Yazidi, and the Rohingya. In each case, when the dust settled on the horrors that had been perpetrated against defenseless civilian populations, it became painfully clear that we had failed in our duty to meet the imperatives of prevention of mass atrocites, of protection of the vulnerable, and of accountability for perpetrators. And so it has been with successive waves of murder and persecution against the Palestinians throughout the entire life of the UN.

High Commissioner, we are failing again.

As a human rights lawyer with more than three decades of experience in the field, I know well that the concept of genocide has often been subject to political abuse. But the current wholesale slaughter of the Palestinian people, rooted in an ethno-nationalist settler colonial ideology, in continuation of decades of their systematic persecution and purging, based entirely upon their status as Arabs, and coupled with explicit statements of intent by leaders in the Israeli government and military, leaves no room for doubt or debate. In Gaza, civilian homes, schools, churches, mosques, and medical institutions are wantonly attacked as thousands of civilians are massacred. In the West Bank, including occupied Jerusalem, homes are seized and reassigned based entirely on race, and violent settler pogroms are accompanied by Israeli military units. Across the land, Apartheid rules.

This is a text-book case of genocide. The European, ethno-nationalist, settler colonial project in Palestine has entered its final phase, toward the expedited destruction of the last remnants of indigenous Palestinian life in Palestine. What's more, the governments of the United States, the United Kingdom, and much of Europe, are wholly complicit in the horrific assault. Not only are these governments refusing to meet their treaty obligations "to ensure respect" for the Geneva Conventions, but they are in fact actively arming the assault, providing economic and intelligence support, and giving political and diplomatic cover for Israel's atrocities.

Volker Turk, High Commissioner for Human Rights Palais Wilson, Geneva

In concert with this, western corporate media, increasingly captured and state-adjacent, are in open breach of Article 20 of the ICCPR, continuously dehumanizing Palestinians to facilitate the genocide, and broadcasting propaganda for war and advocacy of national, racial, or religious hatred that constitutes incitement to discrimination, hostility, and violence. US-based social media companies are suppressing the voices of human rights defenders while amplifying pro-Israel propaganda. Israel lobby online-trolls and GONGOS are harassing and smearing human rights defenders, and western universities and employers are collaborating with them to punish those who dare to speak out against the atrocities. In the wake of this genocide, there must be an accounting for these actors as well, just as there was for radio Mules Collins in Rwanda.

In such circumstances, the demands on our organization for principled and effective action are greater than ever. But we phave not met the challenge. The protective enforcement power Security Council has again been blocked by US intransigence, the SG [UN Secretary General] is under assault for the mildest of protestations, and our human rights mechanisms are under sustained slanderous attack by an organized, online impunity network.

Decades of distraction by the illusory and largely disingenuous promises of Oslo have diverted the Organization from its core duty to defend international law, international human rights, and the Charter itself. The mantra of the "two-state solution" has become an open joke in the corridors of the UN, both for its utter impossibility in fact, and for its total failure to account for the inalienable human rights of the Palestinian people. The so-called "Quartet" has become nothing more than a fig leaf for inaction and for subservience to a brutal status quo. The (US-scripted) deference to "agreements between the parties themselves" (in place of international law) was always a transparent slight-of-hand, designed to reinforce the power of Israel over the rights of the occupied and dispossessed Palestinians.

High Commissioner, I came to this Organization first in the 1980s, because I found in it a principled, norm-based institution that was squarely on the side of human rights, including in cases where the powerful US, UK, and Europe were not on our side. While my own government, its subsidiarity institutions, and much of the US media were still supporting or justifying South African apartheid, Israeli oppression, and Central American death squads, the UN was standing up for the oppressed peoples of those lands. We had international law on our side. We had human rights on our side. We had principle on our side. Our authority was rooted in our integrity. But no more.

In recent decades, key parts of the UN have surrendered to the power of the US, and to fear of the Israel Lobby, to abandon these principles, and to retreat from international law itself. We have lost a lot in this abandonment, not least our own global credibility. But the Palestinian people have sustained the biggest losses as a result of our failures. It is a stunning historic irony that the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted in the same year that the Nakba was perpetrated against the Palestinian people. As we commemorate the 75th Anniversary of the UDHR, we would do well to abandon the old cliché that the UDHR was born out of the atrocities that proceeded it, and to admit that it was born alongside one of the most atrocious genocides of the 20th Century, that of the destruction of Palestine. In some sense, the framers were promising human rights to everyone, except the Palestinian people. And let us remember as well, that the UN itself carries the original sin of helping to facilitate the dispossession of the Palestinian people by ratifying the European settler colonial project that seized Palestinian land and turned it over to the colonists. We have much for which to atone.

But the path to atonement is clear. We have much to learn from the principled stance taken in cities around the world in recent days, as masses of people stand up against the genocide, even at risk of beatings and arrest. Palestinians and their allies, human rights defenders of every stripe, Christian and Muslim organizations, and progressive Jewish voices saying "not in our name", are all leading the way. All we have to do is to follow them.

Yesterday, just a few blocks from here, New York's Grand Central Station was completely taken over by thousands of Jewish human rights defenders standing in solidarity with the Palestinian people and demanding an end to Israeli tyranny (many risking arrest, in the process). In doing so, they stripped away in an instant the Israeli hasbara propaganda point (and old antisemitic trope) that Israel somehow represents the Jewish people. It does not. And, as such, Israel is solely responsible for its crimes. On this point, it bears repeating, in spite of Israel lobby smears to the contrary, that criticism of Israel's human rights violations is not antisemitic, any more than criticism of Saudi violations is Islamophobic, criticism of Myanmar violations is anti-Buddhist, or criticism of Indian violations is anti-Hindu. When they seek to silence us with smears, we must raise our voice, not lower it. I trust you will agree, High Commissioner, that this is what speaking truth to power is all about.

But I also find hope in those parts of the UN that have refused to compromise the Organization's human rights principles in spite of enormous pressures to do so. Our independent special rapporteurs, commissions of enquiry, and treaty body experts, alongside most of our staff, have continued to stand up for the human rights of the Palestinian people, even as other parts of the UN (even at the highest levels) have shamefully bowed their heads to power. As the custodians of the human rights norms and standards, OHCHR. has a particular duty to defend those standards. Our job, I believe, is to make our voice heard, from the Secretary-General to the newest UN recruit, and horizontally across the wider UN system, incisting that the human rights of the Palestinian people are not up for debate, negotiation, or compromise anywhere under the blue flag.

What, then, would a UN-norm-based position look like? For what would we work if we were true to our rhetorical admonitions about human rights and equality for all, accountability for perpetrators, redress for victims, protection of the vulnerable, and empowerment for rights-holders, all under the rule of law? The answer, I believe, is simple—if we have the clarity to see beyond the propagandistic smokescreens that distort the vision of justice to which we are sworn, the courage to abandon fear and deference to powerful states, and the will to truly take up the banner of human rights and peace. To be sure, this is a long-term project and a steep climb. But we must begin now or surrender to unspeakable horror. I see ten essential points:

Legitimate action: First, we in the UN must abandon the failed (and largely disingenuous) Oslo paradigm, its illusory two-state solution, its impotent and complicit Quartet, and its subjugation of international law to the dictates of presumed political expediency. Our positions must be unapologetically based on international human rights and international law.

Clarity of Vision: We must stop the pretense that this is simply a conflict over land or religion between two warring parties and admit the reality of the situation in which a disproportionately powerful state is colonizing, persecuting, and dispossessing an indigenous population on the basis of their ethnicity.

One State based on human rights: We must support the establishment of a single, democratic, secular state in all of historic Palestine, with equal rights for Christians, Muslims, and Jews, and, therefore, the dicmantling of the deeply racist, settler-colonial project and an end to apartheid across the land.

Fighting Apartheid: We must redirect all UN efforts and resources to the struggle against apartheid, just as we did for South Africa in the 1970s, 80s, and early 90s.

Return and Compensation: We must reaffirm and insist on the right to return and full compensation for all Palestinians and their families currently living in the occupied territories, in Lebanon, Jordan, Syria, and in the diaspora across the globe.

Truth and Justice: We must call for a transitional justice process, making full use of decades of accumulated UN investigations, enquiries, and reports, to document the truth, and to ensure accountability for all perpetrators, redress for all victims, and remedies for documented injustices.

Protection: We must press for the deployment of a well-resourced and strongly mandated UN protection force with a sustained mandate to protect civilians from the river to the sea.

Disarmament: We must advocate for the removal and destruction of Israel's massive stockpiles of nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons, lest the conflict lead to the total destruction of the region and, possibly, beyond.

Mediation: We must recognize that the US and other western powers are in fact not credible mediators, but rather actual parties to the conflict who are complicit with Israel in the violation of Palestinian rights, and we must engage them as such.

Solidarity: We must open our doors (and the doors of the SG) wide to the legions of Palestinian, Israeli, Jewish, Muslim, and Christian human rights defenders who are standing in solidarity with the people of Palestine and their human rights and stop the unconstrained flow of Israel lobbyists to the offices of UN leaders, where they advocate for continued war, persecution, apartheid, and impunity, and smear our human rights defenders for their principled defense of Palestinian rights.

This will take years to achieve, and western powers will fight us every step of the way, so we must be steadfast. In the immediate term, we must work for an immediate ceasefire and an end to the longstanding siege on Gaza, stand up against the ethnic cleansing of Gaza, Jerusalem, and the West Bank (and elsewhere), document the genocidal assault in Gaza, help to bring massive humanitarian aid and reconstruction to the Palestinians, take care of our traumatized colleagues and their families, and fight like hell for a principled approach in the UN's political offices.

The UN's failure in Palestine thus far is not a reason for us to withdraw. Rather it should give us the courage to abandon the failed paradigm of the past, and fully embrace a more principled course. Let us, as OHCHR, boldly and proudly join the anti-apartheid movement that is growing all around the world, adding our logo to the banner of equality and human rights for the Palestinian people. The world is watching. We will all be accountable for where we stood at this crucial moment in history. Let us stand on the side of justice.

I thank you, High Commissioner, Volker, for hearing this final appeal from my desk. I will leave the Office in a few days for the last time, after more than three decades of service. But please do not hesitate to reach out if I can be of assistance in the future.

Sincerely,

Craig Mokhiber

End of transcription.

Emphasis (bolding) is my own. I have added links, where relevant, to explanations of concepts the former Director refers to.

[virginreprise]

. ・. ゜. -: ✧ :- INDEBTED TO ✧ YOU

jackson!joel miller x reader ・゜゜・．

° : ⋆ₓ ₒ slight ddlg dynamics, smut, age gap, dirty talk, daddy kink, joel's perverted inner monologue, just pure filth whilst i try and get junky pride pt3 finished lmao

2.7k words ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✧

˚ · • . ° . AO3 ˚ ·. • . ° .

Brief murmurs of Tommy’s chastising fumbled in the back of his mind, the harsh way he’d shook his head—told him you were far too young; that a man like Joel had no business talking to someone like you. Someone hardened and vulnerable, despairing and mutilated by life and every tribulation that had befallen you. 

“She was a child when all this happened,” he’d informed, almost caring as they shared a beer in the empty bar: the usual intensity and hubbub of Jackson’s population had dwindled to the few who dared venture into the snow when the moon hung high and the lanterns flickered off. Footsteps covered by the ever-falling white—lost to the prairie. “You had a child-“ 

Joel had cut him off with a stare, heat forming in his stomach that bubbled and raged—hard to keep down as he gripped the bottle, hand wet with condensation, and grabbed his jacket. Ready to take his leave. Tommy had known he’d gone too far and they’d never spoken of you again, Just Joel’s quiet, mumbled monologue and his little brother’s lingering disproval that seemed so irrational when you’d sunk on his lap and called him daddy. 

Surely it was natural: when denied something, there’d be an overwhelming intensity to have it. That when he was told “No,” he’d ignore every obstacle that conjured in his space. 

Maybe Joel was just stubborn. Or maybe you were just so sweet he couldn’t take his brother's advice and leave you alone. 

But you’d ended up in his bed, writhing underneath him whilst he held your wrists above your head and stretched you wide open—cooing at your pretty little whimpers as he nestled between your thighs. 

“There you go, baby.” He stroked the hair away from your forehead, eyes flickering down to gaze at the space between your legs—the way he disappeared inside of you as his balls pressed against your ass, slick dribbling down onto his bedsheets that he’d changed just hours before you’d come to him. He didn’t care, though. God, he’d be able to smell you all day, have the sweetness of you permeating throughout the room until the scent carried its way into his everyday life. 

Patrolling the surrounding area, you’d be there—dancing along his nose. In his workshop, as he sanded away the rough wood, making something for you as a Christmas present, he’d be able to feel you around him, taste you on his lips and hear the remnants of those staccato moans as you came around his fingers. 

“Daddy’s got you,” he mumbled as he breathed out a soft moan, the tightness of you around him causing him to pause—to contemplate his words that came so sinfully from his already tainted lips. 

Jackson should’ve been a new start, a new beginning where he could leave the horrors and the terror behind. But you: pretty little thing that barely spoke, who responded to every question with a quiet nod or a shake of your head and hoped that someone else would verbalise every feeling for you, had ruined those hopes for him—had shattered the image he’d created whilst hammering a nail into the wall, ready to hang his paintings on. 

You were sweet. So damn sweet. 

With a harshness in your eyes that hinted at similar pasts, at losses that neither of you could overcome. Why Tommy didn’t think you were fucking perfect for each other, Joel would never know. 

“Daddy’s here, darlin’, all for you.”

They were incoherent blabbers, things that Joel would never say if he wasn’t so drunk off pussy and the look on your pretty little face as he began slowly moving his hips. 

“D-daddy?” 

God, you sounded so fucking pretty. All glassy-eyes and fucked out with a little bit of drool pooling at the corner of your mouth. He lapped it up with a solid kiss, an arm wrapped around your waist as he tugged you close to him—wanting to feel every part of you, every soft piece of flesh, pressed against him. 

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Another kiss to your forehead, grinding his pubic bone into your clit—wanting to stay wrapped up like this forever; hoping that you’d stay with and warm his bed after all was said and done. Keep moaning that name of his, that filthy little name that would give Tommy an aneurysm if he heard it, until you came and cried all over his cock. 

“Hurts,” you managed to get out. “S’too big.” 

The pride that seized him was unlike any other, the light chuckle he let out unable to be prevented as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, one to both cheeks, your nose and then lips. 

“I know, honey.” His fingers found their way between your thighs, stroking circles into your clit—attempting to appease the ache as he rolled his hips into you. “Deep breaths.” 

Kisses fell from your lips to your jaw, trailing to your neck where he sucked, smiling as you keened and bucked your hips. 

You took it so well. Took everything he gave with no complaints, writhing around in his bed, messing his covers and calling his name. 

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. 

It fell from your lips so perversely, but so pretty that he didn’t have it in him to tell you no. 

He’d be your daddy if that’s what you wanted. He was the right fucking age, silver in his hair—in his goddamn pubes too. His bones ached, knees cracking as he stood from the couch, back completely giving up on him after that one time a year ago when he’d held too much firewood in his arms and he’d gone tumbling down with the logs, crashing to the floor and having to crawl back inside his house. He hadn’t gone on patrol for a good few weeks after and he’d been careful with the damn fragile thing ever since. 

He was fragile. Fragile and old with a pudge to his tummy that never seemed to go away no matter how much he tried, wrinkles spidering near the corners of his eyes, and a pretty young thing in his bed that clenched around his dick whilst the adrenaline pumped around his body in seismic waves and made him forget all about the backache as he hovered over you. 

“You feel good?’ he asked softly, fingers still rubbing at your clit as you wrapped your legs around his hips. 

You nodded, nonverbal, unable to bring your thoughts to fruition as you mumbled incoherent things into the space between your lips. 

“C’mon baby, tell daddy how you feel.”

You whined, gripping his shoulders and digging your nails into the taut muscle. 

“S-s-s-so good, daddy.

God, he felt so fucking filthy, so depraved, so perverted. But, amongst all of that, he felt good. He felt undeniably euphoric with you wrapped around him, name echoing in the darkest corners of his mind and slipping from his throat so naturally it was like he was born to do this for you. To take care of you. Your sole vocation was to be his pretty baby for the rest of his life—not lift a goddamn finger as he did everything you asked him to. 

Get home after a long day patrolling to you in the kitchen, waiting for him eagerly and throwing yourself into his arms to give him a kiss. Tell him how much you missed him. That you’d been needing him all day. 

Joel just wanted someone to look after. And if that meant being labelled as a pervert by his brother and possibly by the entirety of Jackson, so what? 

“Yeah, I’ll make you feel good,” he murmured to himself, the words soft and delicate as he closed his eyes for a brief second, savouring the feeling of your heat around him and pulling you as tight to him as he possibly could. Breasts pressed against his chest, the softness of them against the wiry hairs: a contrast so delightful and thrilling. 

He brought his lips down to yours, tongue pressing into you—wanting to consume. To taste every single part of you. 

Hips began their movement, your mouth hanging open as he continued to lick at you; he pressed down on your stomach with intention, hand moving from your clit to the soft space above it and felt himself inside you, moving softly, scraping against every spot that had you shaking and twitching.

You gripped him tighter, whimpers and moans gracing the air, nuzzling into his touch when he stroked a hand down your cheek to admire the unmistakable and overwhelming beauty of you: all drunk off his cock and losing yourself to the feeling of him sinking deep inside you. 

“You like Daddy’s cock in you, huh?” His voice was strained with lust, dick jerking inside you when you clamped down on him—his words the biggest effect. He loved it: the way you’d start squirming and gaze at your shoes every time he spoke out of turn, every time something filthy fell from his lips. You loved hearing him talk, whisper dirty words that he daredn’t bring outside the four walls of his room. 

The left side of the bed that had been empty for so long, just waiting for you to warm it, to have your scent sink into the mattress and stay there for eternity. 

Understandably, you struggled to answer his question, just nodding slightly, almost imperceptible: the tiny little head jerk. 

“C’mon, baby, use your words.” 

You whined, digging your heels into his back, gripping tighter onto his shoulders; he was sure you’d leave marks, big long scratches down the expanse of already scarred skin. Decorating him with an ardent display of passion and desire—marking him as yours. 

He would be yours. 

Every breath, every cry, every laugh: yours alone.

In turn, he would get to keep you, locked away in his house, safe from every danger that crept outside the walls. 

“Love Daddy’s cock,” you mumbled, face heating in embarrassment at the crudeness, pressing your face as best you could into the pillows. Joel refused. He would not deny himself the pleasure of staring down at you as you took him, lips parted, eyes screwed up in pleasure with tears dripping to your temple. 

Fingers found your jaw, turning you to face him, enamoured by the way you clung and bucked—wishing for all of him. 

“Daddy,” you moaned, lips turned into a pout, a cry escaping you as his hips sped up—thrusts coming quicker. The arm around your waist tightened, tugging you upwards so he could reach deeper. Balls fucking deep. 

“There you go,” he encouraged, kissing softly at your collarbone, nipping slightly as he moved to your shoulder. “That feels good, don’t it, sweetheart?” 

This time, he didn’t mind when you didn’t reply, too focused on you gushing around him. Practically drooling from that tight little pussy as he snapped his hips upward and felt his head go funny—mind clouded by the heat of you. He was fucking burning up, everything on his mind spewing from his lips as he leant over you; ignoring the ache in his hips that served as a gentle reminder that he was old. That this was still wrong and that if anyone ever found out about what he did to you and what he let you call him, they’d exile him from Jackson and look back on the days of the pervert next door: Joel Miller. 

“Tommy says I’m too old for you,” he grunted, hand grabbing at your wrists when they fell from his back—too cock-drunk to keep them on him. “Says that I’ll ruin you.” The monologuing had been unintentional, the sentences that formed something that he was desperate to keep to himself. Too late now. All restraint had been lost as soon as you’d coaxed his fingers into your panties and shown him just how much you wanted him. “You like it, though, don’t you? You’d do whatever—fuck—whatever I tell you like a good little girl. Wouldn’t you, baby?”

You nodded enthusiastically. 

“Whatever you want, daddy.” 

He chuckled, eyes full of mirth as he kissed you softly, slipping his hands into yours and pushing them down into the pillows. He couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving, some part of him still thinking that this was all just a sick joke, that you didn’t actually want an old man like him and were going to run away the first chance you got. But, you called his name again, that fateful moniker that had his dick twitching in his pants, all doubts were lost. 

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, darlin’,” he said, pressing his pelvis purposefully against you, grinding down on your clit and watching your mouth hang open in ecstasy—eyes squeezed shut as you mumbled a high-pitched, whiny “Daddy.” The best one yet, as far as Joel was concerned. “You almost there, baby? You gonna cum all over Daddy’s cock? Gonna let all of them hear how much you want me? Huh?” 

You nodded vigorously, sharp gasps falling from your lips, body writhing underneath his as it built itself tall inside your stomach. Growing and growing until you were clamping down on him so tight he thought his dick would fall off. 

“C’mon, babydoll, let it out,” Joel coaxed, kissing all over your face, all down your chest and took a nipple in his mouth, sucked and grazed harshly until he felt you gushing—breath held as you soaked it in, and then a sharp cry falling from your lips as it washed over you. “There you go,” he murmured against your skin, hips slowing to guide you through, throat hoarse as he felt his own impending orgasm. 

Your head fell back onto the pillows, mouth dropped open as you tried to breathe through the sharp stabs of pleasure, Joel’s licentiousness overpowering his restraint as he pummeled into you as fast as his old bones would let him. He pushed his way through your stomach, almost coming apart right there when he looked down and saw the bulge. 

A choked groan forced its way out his throat, stomach tensing as his ears began ringing, not registering your soft whimpers and small sobs—the small daddy’s that you struggled to project above the beginning of Joel’s release. 

He outright moaned when he finally spilt inside you, cock twitching, arms shaking as he tried with all his might to keep himself balanced on his palms. 

“Daddy?” you were coming back into focus now, his bleary eyes regaining their vision and his chest heaving as he managed to breathe again—now able to fully take in the sight of you. Sweat on your brow, tears streaming from your eyes and lips full: evidence of his bruising kisses. 

“I’m here, baby,” he breathed out, indulging in your soft moan as he pulled out of you and collapsed onto the mattress beside you. He brought you with him, tugging at your waist and manoeuvring you so you lay close—warm body tucked under his arm. 

A soft kiss to your forehead, a repeated slew of “I’m here,” and “Daddy’s not goin’ anywhere,” leaving his lips as he held you as close as possible. 

Fuck Tommy, fuck Maria, fuck anyone who dared share their opinions of his choice in relations. You were his now, cum seeping from your legs—marking you. Claiming you. 

All he wanted was to take care of you, feed you, clothe you, bathe you, keep you happy, safe and warm and pray to God that you would never come to your senses one day and run far away. That you’d realise what you two had was…different. Not wrong, just different. 

He wouldn’t let you go. 

No, he’d keep you. 

Tucked into his side, a mumbled “G’night, daddy,” on your pretty lips, and the feel of you against him as your body grew heavy with sleep. 

He would stay up for hours after you’d finally fallen into slumber, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest, listening to the snores that he found overwhelmingly endearing. Kiss you a couple more times and breathe in your scent. Make sure that you wouldn’t escape in the middle of the night and go tell everyone what a disgusting, sleazy old man Joel Miller really was. 

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.

That word rested heavily on his shoulders, all night lying awake and waiting to hear it again. 

God, he was in fucking deep; he wouldn’t be letting you go for as long as you were still wet and willing.

© virginreprise

thanks for reading ! i wrote this whilst thinking of that one guy who was perfect for me. i hope you can feel my longing and desire projected through joel's thoughts. if anyone's wondering about junky pride, i hope to get it out soon. i really really just love jackson joel more than anything and want him in me so bad.

[herpsandbirds]

Got any Devil's Hole Pupfish and/or their less specialized relatives? I love the frustration they're causing land developers lol

Oh I have some Pupfish stuff for you...

GREAT NEWS!  - Recovery efforts are paying off for the critically endangered Devils Hole pupfish. 

This past April, scientists counted 175 pupfish!  The last time numbers were this high during a spring count was 22 years ago. The fish are in “remarkable condition and very active,” according to Nevada Department of Wildlife  supervisory fish biologist Brandon Senger.  Devils Hole, located within Ash Meadows National Wildlife Refuge in Southern Nevada, is a water-filled, geothermal cave system containing carbonate-rich and oxygen-poor water. Water conditions here remain at a constant 93°F in deeper reaches of the cave, and it’s the only natural habitat for Devils Hole pupfish.  “It’s just such a different species and it is remarkable that it has managed to survive,“ said our fish biologist Michael Schwemm. "It lacks pelvic fins due to the extreme conditions such as low food resources and high temperature, adapting to habitat conditions which have evolved over time.”

The story: http://ow.ly/nhz050JaB07

Pahrump Poolfish (Empetrichthys latos), Desert National Wildlife Refuge, NV, USA

Word of the day: refugium (ree·few·jee·um), or an area in which a population of organisms can survive through a period of unfavorable conditions. Here on the refuge, the critically endangered Pahrump Poolfish lives exclusively in a refugium. This small, guppy-like fish is extinct in the wild, after its original habitat was depleted due to groundwater pumping in the 1970s. You can find the refugium along the trails behind the Corn Creek Visitor Center.

Photographs: J. Contois / USFWS

Saving a Rare Desert Fish on the Brink of Extinction 

Pahrump Poolfish (Empetrichthys latos) are being kept at the Nevada state fish hatchery as restoration efforts are under way to restore their home habitat.

There is a rare species of desert fish fighting for its survival in a fresh water pond in the desert landscape of southern Nevada – the Pahrump poolfish. According to biologists monitoring the tiny fish, one of the last remaining populations of the endangered Pahrump poolfish, Empetrichthys latos, is at an alarmingly low number, below 1,000, compared to the 10,000 recorded in 2015. Throughout the month of October 2016, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service biologist James Harter and Nevada Department of Wildlife (NDOW) biologist Kevin Guadalupe are rescuing the Pahrump poolfish from Lake Harriett at Spring Mountain Ranch State Park outside of Las Vegas, Nevada, and moving them to the NDOW’s fish hatchery at the Lake Mead National Recreation Area. The poolfish are being taken to the hatchery to protect the species from extinction…

Read more: https://www.fws.gov/cno/newsroom/featured/2016/Pahrump_poolfish/

Photo Credit: Enrique Villar/USFWS

The Phenotypic Plasticity of Death Valley’s Pupfish

Desert fish are revealing how the environment alters development to modify body shape and behavior

by Sean C. Lema

Despite variety, most of the surface of Death Valley is dead … a land of jagged salt pillars, crackling and tortured crusts of mud, sunburnt gravel bars the color of rust, rocks and boulders of metallic blue naked even of lichen. As one of the world’s harshest desert regions, Death Valley is a land of eroding badlands, scorching alluvial fans, and barren flats of mud and salt. Yet hidden in remote corners of Death Valley live the desert pupfishes—several related species that survive in an archipelago of permanent water habitats scattered in a sea of desert. Death Valley’s pupfishes inhabit isolated springs, streams and marshes that are remnants of the region’s milder climate less than 20,000 years ago. Since that cooler and wetter time, pupfishes in this region have evolved from a common ancestor into nine closely related species and subspecies, with each taxon living in full geographic isolation from the others. Death Valley’s pupfishes are thus a little like the well-known Darwin’s finches of the Galapagos Islands, in that they offer an opportunity to watch the process of evolution in action…

(read more: American Scientist)

photographs: Sean C. Lema and NPS

[prokopetz]

I have all the usual criticisms of the Always Evil Species Who Are Ontologically Okay to Kill trope in RPGs, but I have to admit a soft spot for RPGs that do this trope, except there's only like six of them.

Like, they're explicitly identified as a species, with a name, and they have their own language, culture, clothing fashions, architectural styles, etc., all clearly distinct from any of the setting's mainstream cultures, but to all textual evidence this entire species and culture consists of half a dozen people. There's no indication that they're a remnant of a once-greater civilisation, and in fact they're often depicted as either immortal or very long-lived in a way which precludes that possibility.

I know I'm putting a great deal more thought into it than the authors of the games in question ever did, but I have to wonder how that works. How do you get an entire fully realised culture out of a group of people whose total population has evidently never exceeded a single digit? Is this like an art project for them? Are we dealing with a bunch of evil theatre kids? Was there a discussion about the skulls?

[homunculus-argument]

If you don’t mind answering: why is it that when you talk to swedes about Finland it’s generally “that’s our weird little brother <3” but when finns talk about Sweden it’s a lot more hostile might be the wrong word but you probably know what I’m trying to get at?

I understand there’s a lot of history there and stuff but I’m not sure if I get it completely

One funny thing is that Swedish is still an official language in Finland. All public services are legally required to be equally possible to operate in both finnish and swedish, and there are still some older finn-swedes (born and raised finnish natives who speak swedish as a first language) who do not speak a lick of finnish and consider that a matter of pride. Finn-swedes make up about 5% of Finland's population, and while they are just as finnish as finnish-speaking finns, a lot of native finnish speakers who have never met one don't see them that way.

Learning swedish is mandatory in finnish-speaking schools, and it's famously in the top 5 of the most hated school subjects. Many refer to it as "pakkoruotsi", "forced swedish", and see it as a remnant of imperialism, either because the thought of swedish as an official language on its own feels degrading (the thought of swedish-speaking finns existing at all doesn't occur to them, because due to making up 5% of the population, many finnish-speaking finns have literally never met one), or they resent the finn-swedes themselves, grumbling about how the entire country has to learn an entire language just to accommodate such a tiny minority - most of whom speak fluent finnish anyway - like some kind of a slave race.

I had literally never met any swedish-speaking finns in my life before I moved into a town where they used to make up the majority of people just a few generations ago. None of them have ever thought of it odd that the entire country has to fluently speak both, because in their personal experience, everyone they know is bilingual anyway, so using both languages and fluently flipping between them is effortless to them.

There are small bubbles in the country where finnish and swedish are spoken 50-50%, because 5% of the population speak swedish as a first language.

[afloweroutofstone]

Years of US-led warfare in Fallujah, Iraq created a tremendous amount of chemical pollution in the city, so much so that 100% of locals tested for this research project had lead in their bone tissue

Based on interdisciplinary biological, environmental, and anthropological research in Fallujah, Iraq, this report finds that people who have returned to bombarded homes and neighborhoods may face increased risk of negative health impacts from heavy metal exposure, both for themselves and for future generations. The findings support prior research which has demonstrated that those who are first at the scenes of war-damaged areas may be at a higher risk of reproductive health harms, and that Fallujah’s population faced a 17-fold increase in birth anomalies and myriad other health problems linked with the 2003 U.S. invasion. This study found that exposure to remnants of war, amplified by vitamin deficiencies, may play a role in these health outcomes.

The authors' bone sampling research detected uranium in the bones of 29% of study participants in Fallujah and lead was detected in 100% of participants’ bone samples. The amount of lead detected in participants’ bones was 600% higher than averages from similarly aged populations in the U.S. The authors' environmental sampling detected higher levels of heavy metals in the soils of more heavily bombarded neighborhoods, indicating the enduring distribution of heavy metals linked with military activity.

Additionally, the research found that in the process of being displaced, returning, and re-establishing households, nutritional gaps can compound reproductive health risks for returnees.

Returnees to bombarded cities in places such as Gaza, Ukraine, Syria, and Lebanon likely face negative long-term health impacts from heavy metal exposure, both for themselves and for future generations. Returnees can limit negative health impacts by wearing personal protective equipment and prioritizing certain nutritional practices, such as vitamin protocols.

[yukinohiko]

it’s a particularly cold day in the little town you’re passing through. the train isn’t for another hour, and you don’t favour your odds of waiting out on a park bench. with all this in mind, you find yourself entering a little shop down the corner street.

sakamoto’s — it’s warm.

that’s your first thought upon stepping indoors and hearing the soft bell chime. warm and well-lit, offering a semblance of peace in the otherwise frigid winter scene outdoors.

you rub your palms as you walk through the different aisles. you wonder what you could carouse; perhaps some crackers for the train ride? perhaps a little dessert? then again, you had an hour to kill before making your way to the station.

glancing out the frosted windows, you see the snow piling up along the asphalt. the lamplights shine like liquid gold over the black ice.

“excuse me?”

you nearly jolt at the abrupt voice. when you turn, you see someone — a clerk, judging by the apron — standing before you. he has a slight smile, vaguely apologetic. “yes?”

“is this what you were looking for?” he holds out a basket towards you.

you stare. first at the basket; at the assortment of goods stacked neatly within, including the rice crackers you’d eyed earlier, a ramen cup, and pudding; then, at the clerk. he tilts his head, pleasantly so, unassuming, you think.

but what you say contradicts the assumption. “were you following me?”

his eyes widen. “what? no —”

“how else would you know what I was looking for?”

his hand falters, and he withdraws the basket uncertainly. “well, I saw you when you had entered the shop — you walked through those aisles.”

“oh.” you relax marginally, somewhat placated by the rationality. “I’m sorry. yes, thank you.”

you accept the basket, feeling your fingers brush his. he withdraws swiftly, startling you, though he stutters an apology upon catching your reaction. it’s sweet, you think.

cute.

his cheeks bloom rosily — pink as though they were flushed from frostbite.

“cold?” you ask. the shop seemed warm, however. it only made you peer closer at him in concern.

“no, no. I’m fine. thank you.”

“that’s good —” you drop your gaze to his name tag, tasting the vowels and rhythm aloud, “— shin.”

cute name. it suits him.

his cheeks darken almost as soon as the thought populates your mind, and you watch curiously as he averts his gaze.

“is something wrong?” you press.

“not at all.” he clears his throat, scratching his nape as he turns away. “if you’ll follow me, I can ring up your things.”

you don’t see any reason to oppose, and find yourself trailing after him. it’s a subtle notion — one that nearly escapes you. as you pass the sweets section, you idly eye a lollipop — cherry, wine-red. before you can even consider adding it to your basket, shin’s hand is already plucking it off the shelf.

you stare. he didn’t even pause — not to ask you, nor to confirm. he only offers another polite smile, amiable in spite of the remnants of rose in his cheeks. “on the house,” he says.

you think it’s far-fetched, but again, on impulse, think of something else. how cold it is outside; how much you are not looking forward to a cold trek to the train station.

he doesn’t so much as blink as he rings up your items at the register. “it’s pretty chilly tonight, isn’t it?”

“it is. do you live far from here?”

“nope.” his eyes flicker to the ceiling, a tender pacific blue in the shop’s warm lights. “just a floor above, actually. but I imagine anyone trying to get around town tonight will be in for a snowfall.”

“mhm.”

he hands you the lollipop, and you tuck it between your lips. you say lightly, deliberately, “don’t know any spots I could hunker down in for an hour, do you?”

shin blinks. once, taking in the candy between your teeth, then another to meet your gaze. “well, ah, the shop won’t close for a while. you could stay here. the station is a while off, too, so if you need help getting there, I don’t mind walking you after my shift.”

you hum. “that’s really nice of you, shin. thank you.”

“of course. it’s no trouble —?”

you offer him your name, along with a hand. he shakes it well — and you can’t help but notice the callouses lining his palms and fingers. far more than you’d expect from a typical shop clerk.

he withdraws his hand quickly, and you only tilt your head questioningly.

“guess you’re wondering about these scars, huh?” he laughs lightly — nervously, you’d have thought.

but your mind is elsewhere. you take greater fascination, then, when you pop the candy into your cheek, grinning with cherry-stained lips, as you say, “not as much as I’m wondering why a stranger knows I need to head to the train station in the middle of a blizzard. but we’ve got time — care to let me in on the secret, shin?”

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 16

[chap fifteen] | [all chapters here] | [chap seventeen]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers, smut & nsfw themes

Author's Note | THIS chapter, yall! I created a super rough draft of this chapter waaay back in the first month of this fic's development and I'm so stoked that I finally got to come back to it after all this time!

WC | 9.1k

Chapter Sixteen

This year, Halloween fell on a Thursday, not that that was stopping any of Hawkins’ teenage population from going absolutely all-out like they did every year. You suspected half of the student body was probably going to skip school tomorrow, considering that everyone seemed to be talking about Chance’s party all damn week - clearly, Halloween was going to take precedence over classes and extracurriculars.

Although you had told Eddie you’d join the Hellfire Club again that night, you became anxious about it, which felt ridiculous - the more and more you replayed last week’s session in your head, the more unsure you were, the more nervous you became. You had practically spilled to Eddie all the pent up shit you’d been feeling via the safety of the princess character, and just recalling it made your ears hot with embarrassment; you weren’t about to let that happen again.

So, you called in a rain-check, making the excuse that you needed extra time to get ready for the party; Eddie teased you about his disappointment, although you could tell in his eyes that he was at least a little let down, even as he tried to play it cool. But, really, it also worked out that you gave yourself a couple extra hours, because you still hadn’t figured out a costume despite spending all week trying to think of ideas. It was as if the mere act of trying to find inspiration garnered you with none at all, your mind constantly drawing a blank whenever asked what or who you’d dress up as.

Having waited till the absolute last minute to even try to find a costume, you sped to the nearest department store after school and tried to search for something amidst whatever remnants were left of the costume section. Despite your moaning and groaning as you dug through vampire capes and witches’ hats, you managed to piece together an idea that, although not thrilling by your standards, was better than nothing at all.

You had also asked Eddie to dress up with you, to which he jokingly suggested a couple’s costume just to watch you squirm at the thought. That idea was quickly shot down, as it was too cheesy even for your own liking. But Eddie assured you he’d come up with something, and thus both your costumes were going to be a surprise to one another.

Not wanting to be those assholes that were punctual to an event, you told Eddie to pick you up at eight - you wouldn’t be the first people there, and that would, hopefully, give him enough time to wrap up with the Hellfire Club and get ready. So, once you returned home from the department store, you were still left with more time than you had expected, breezing past a couple of kids as they approached your house while trick-or-treating.

You worked at a leisurely pace as you fixed your make-up and fussed with your hair, making sure that your outfit looked just right, going so far as to smear fake blood on the front of your shirt. As you got ready, the ringing of the doorbell became more frequent, the trick-or-treaters coming in larger droves once the sun had finally set in the sky.

You were thankful that your mother enjoyed answering the door dozens of times to the sight of excited kids, because it meant you never got roped into the job. You were certain, though, that the children became a little less eager once they were presented with juice boxes instead of candy - despite your efforts to convince her to hand out sweets, she couldn’t be swayed, insisting juice was a better alternative.

Once your costume was finally complete and you assessed yourself in the mirror, you had to admit that you were more satisfied with it than you had anticipated. Despite its simplicity, you figured it was still a recognizable character, so it didn’t look completely half-assed and sloppily thrown together.

It also helped that the tight little shorts you were wearing made your legs look great - not that you were trying to draw someone’s attention to them or anything.

Deciding you weren’t interested in any kind of conversation (or rather, confrontation) with your parents, you lingered up in your room until Eddie finally arrived - considering all the trouble you’d gotten into over the past few weeks, you weren’t all too interested in starting Halloween on a negative note. So, the moment that you spotted his van pulling up along the curb, careful to avoid trick-or-treaters, you practically ran out of the house; trailing behind you, you could hear the sound of your father’s voice, but you bounded out the front door before he could get a word in.

You dashed down the driveway, breezing past a couple of kids bemoaning the juice boxes your mother gave them; you rolled your eyes, knowing she would never change her Halloween habits. Feeling giddy, you and Eddie smiled simultaneously at one another as you climbed into the van. Once you were settled into your seat, Eddie looked you up and down in appraisal of your outfit, and you did the same.

“A pirate?” You questioned, taking in the flowy shirt, dark striped pants, and skull-and-crossbones bandana Eddie wore.

He was still trying to figure out what the hell your costume was - admittedly, the ripped shorts, tight blue flannel, and chunky boots weren’t quite enough of a hint without your spooky accessories.

“And you’re, what, dead Daisy Duke?” He teased with a gleam in his eyes, chuckling as you shook your head as if on the defensive. You grabbed the bag you brought along with you, pulling out a hockey mask and faux machete, holding them out towards Eddie as if to make a point. He rolled his eyes in realization, his smile making you giddy, “Jason Vorhees? You don’t even like Friday the 13th.”

It took you by surprise that Eddie recalled that little bit of information about you, since it only came up once before during one of your horror movie rants; despite yourself, it made your heart flutter eagerly that he remembered something so trivial.

Pulling the mask on - but pushing it up so that it sat atop your head, exposing your face - you grinned triumphantly, pleased with your outfit and the way that Eddie may or may not have been staring at your legs, “Vorhees is better than Daisy Duke.”

Eddie gave you an amused look before his gaze slowly roved over your body again - sure, he’d seen a lot of your body before, whether he meant to or not, but something about this outfit in particular caught his attention. Maybe it was the fact that it was unlike anything you usually wore, maybe it was the way this shirt drew attention to your cleavage, or maybe it was how damn good your legs looked. His eyes were making you antsy, but soon enough he shook his head with a grin.

“Oh yeah, because adding a mask to the costume makes it totally different.”

“What, don’t tell me you’d prefer Daisy Duke.” You teased flirtatiously back, even taking yourself aback with your bluntness. Eddie gave you some unidentifiable look in response before smirking to himself and pulling away from the curb. As he drove along, gleefully head banging to the metal album blasting through the speakers, you couldn’t help but smile contently, taking the opportunity to assess his outfit more closely.

You had to admit, Eddie looked… kind of hot in this cheesy pirate get-up. Sure, you had already begrudgingly accepted that you always found him hot (and just the thought of it right now made your cheeks warm), but there was something absolutely charming about his costume of choice. His shirt exposed a long expanse of his chest, the bandana was far too attractive tied over his messy hair, and his customary jewelry only seemed to compliment the whole get-up. Eddie was frustratingly hot right now - but he didn’t need to know that.

Arriving at the party took a bit of work, as the entire street in front of the Hunter house was packed full of cars, one after another along the expanse of the entire block. You could hear Eddie grumbling to himself as he slowed the van to a crawl in search of a place to park, trying not to hit your peers as they carelessly crossed the street. A smile teased across your lips, and as if he could tell, Eddie shot you a look from the corner of his eye, which only served to make you laugh.

“Geez, has no one heard of carpooling?” Eddie muttered, finally spotting an open space along the curb just a moment later.

“What, first high school party?” You teased as he struggled to parallel park, getting one more sharp look from him.

Eventually, Eddie figured it out, and the two of you climbed out of the van, the evening breeze causing goosebumps to break out across your skin; you tried to hide your shiver, knowing that complaining would be a moot point once you were inside amidst the cramped gathering of warm bodies. Whether he knew you were cold or not, Eddie nonetheless threw his arm around you, gaze wandering across the faces of other teens as well as the few remaining trick-or-treaters running about.

Appreciating the body warmth, you pressed a little closer into his side; feeling brave, you carefully, experimentally snaked your arm around his middle. The feel of your delicate fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt drew Eddie’s gaze down to you, but you refrained from meeting his eyes, feeling stupidly nervous over such a small, simple gesture.

The music and noise from the party was seeping outside, the sound greeting you even before you set foot on the Hunters’ front walkway. A scattering of people had spilled out onto the lawn, you and Eddie drawing a couple of eyes, only for them to look away with disinterest a moment later.

And once you’d stepped over the threshold of the front door, the smell of weed hit you like a ton of bricks, the house hazy with smoke, pop music bumping loud enough that you could feel it vibrating in your chest. You had to pull yourself out from under Eddie’s arm just so you could lead him through the packed throngs of people, lightly grabbing his hand as you began to weave and maneuvering with a practiced ease; by now, you’d been to enough parties at the Hunter house that you knew exactly where you were going.

You made a beeline for the kitchen, knowing that the only appropriate way to start your evening was with a round of drinks. Both familiar and unfamiliar faces looked in your direction, some furrowing at Eddie, but most far too focused on having a good time to worry about who was attending the party. You glanced over your shoulder at Eddie, who was looking around the house with a wide-eyed intrigue, as if taken aback by just how big and wild this party already was; it made you smile fondly.

Finally entering the kitchen, it seemed as if the crowd occupying it was already well intoxicated, keeping realm over the drinks and meager party snacks. You had to shove someone aside a little just so you get to the island that was jammed with bottles and cans and red cups, finally taking your hand from Eddie’s so you could pick through your variety of options.

Although you kept picking up bottles and cans, you already knew the punch bowl full of jungle juice was calling your name; sure, that was the most stereotypical thing you could’ve picked at a damn high school party, but it always did a wonderful job of getting you absolutely plastered. You just wanted to see if anything else would possibly catch your attention.

Feeling Eddie lingering just behind you, you took a small step back into his torso so that he could hear you over the cacophonous noise; he dipped his head down, too, just for good measure, “You looking to get trashed, or you taking it slow?”

You studied his features with a faint smile, enjoying the sight of him up close like this. Eddie looked between you and the kitchen island, eyes searching slowly; eventually, he leaned in closer, practically wrapping around you as he reached for a beer sitting in a bowl of half-melted ice. You delighted in the warmth of his body, trying not to shiver as you took a breath of his familiar, enticing scent. Trying to distract yourself, you quickly grabbed a cup and made for the punch bowl.

As you dunked your cup into the mixture of alcohol and juice, Eddie dutifully followed you, cracking open his can of beer as he teased, “So, we have a couple of drinks and then we head out, right?”

Knowing he was still just a step behind, you nudged your shoulder back to bump Eddie in the chest, giving him a taunting look, “Oh, you’re not getting out of this that easily.”

Spinning around to face him, you realized you were trapped between Eddie and the countertop; to hide any trepidation, you took a large swig from your cup, cringing at the diabetic amount of sugar and strange combination of flavors. Eddie laughed with a large smile at the clearly comical look on your face, and was it your imagination, or did he lean in just a little bit closer?

Eddie took a sip of his beer, gaze locked on yours even as he pressed the can to his lips, his eyes alight, “Just don’t leave me alone with anyone boring, alright?”

You smiled back easily, brushing up against him as you squeezed past, “No promises…”

And so began your evening, the both of you finishing off your first round of drinks quickly, leading into you convincing Eddie to take a couple of shots with you. Awaiting the buzz that would come soon enough, you dragged Eddie around the party, teasing that you’d make him dance eventually, which he quickly shot down, insisting that even you couldn’t convince him to dance to the likes of Madonna or Prince.

Despite assuming you’d become totally ostracized from your previous social circles, people were always so much more open once they’d gotten a few drinks in them, and so throughout the night you and Eddie would get caught in conversations - some people, you’d once been close to, others you were barely acquainted with. And the utter confusion on Eddie’s face only encouraged you, as he was fully unprepared for people to actually talk to him like a human being and not the freak they all acted like he was.

Somewhere along the way, Eddie disappeared and quickly reappeared with another round of drinks for you two, this time with a cup of his own rather than a lousy beer - you couldn’t help but smile mischievously, eager to see that he was looking to get drunk alongside you. At another point in the night, someone tried to rope the two of you into trying some heavy drugs, and you aggressively told them to fuck off before dragging Eddie away.

Following much socializing and the drinking, you and Eddie eventually escaped into the backyard to get some air; you nearly tripped into the swimming pool, but luckily he was able to pull you back before you both went in, sharing a laugh at the near-miss. Somehow, you became engaged in a conversation with a bunch of band kids who seemed to feel a little out of place at the party - evidently, one of them had dragged the others along, but they weren’t all that interested in being here. Eddie seemed drawn to this crowd now that he knew they felt just as odd as he did, quickly settling into one of the free chairs in the circle. You settled for sitting on the arm of it rather than dragging another chair over, Eddie having to steady you more than once now that the alcohol was making you sway a little.

As Eddie became absorbed in a conversation about instruments that completely went over your head, you took that opportunity to wander back inside for more drinks upon realizing both you and Eddie were carrying around empty cups. And although you swayed a little once you were back on your feet, you insisted that you didn’t need any help, that Eddie stayed put and continued enjoying the company of the band kids.

Pushing through your peers with your senses dulled, you wondered if Eddie thought you were more drunk than you were, and in turn you wondered if he was drunk, too, and just doing a damn good job of hiding it. And then you realized that you had the same line of thought at the last party the two of you attended together, your neck growing hot at the memory.

Back in the kitchen and making your way towards the punch bowl, someone came up alongside you while saying your name tentatively, prompting you to look over with a furrow of your brow. It was only Janet, dressed in a cute little Wonder Woman costume, but considering that you’d barely spoken a word to each other in recent weeks, you couldn’t help but feel hesitation at her presence.

Nonetheless, you were just drunk enough that you tried to shove that worry aside, giving Janet something of a kind look as you greeted her. The music seemed even louder than it was before, so you two had to duck your heads close together just to hear one another; as if presenting a peace offering, Janet held up a couple shots for the two of you to share.

“You here with Amelia?” You sneered your ex-best friend’s name, but Janet promptly shook her head; you downed your shots in unison.

“She and Duncan left a while ago - I imagine to go egg some houses.” Janet responded with disapproval; she’d never been one for pranks, and so it was always a surprise that she hung out with the likes of you, Amelia, and the rest of your crowd.

“How much do you wanna bet my house is one of their targets?” You asked rhetorically, finding some ease in the presence of your old friend; or maybe it was your inebriation making you less guarded than you’d usually be.

Janet gave you an unsure look, not wanting to say one way or another if she suspected that they’d do that. You refilled both your cup and Eddie’s, which prompted Janet to get a drink of her own; it made you wonder if Janet was hoping to catch you drunk, knowing that you were so much easier to talk to with a bit of alcohol in you.

Biting her lip, Janet looked at you tentatively, “Can we… hang out for a few minutes? Just you and me?”

You wanted to agree, but nonetheless made a suspicious face, “This isn’t a trick, is it?”

Janet’s eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head, growing nervous, “No no no, not a trick, I promise.”

You looked between her eyes for a moment, seeking out a lie; after a moment, you held your pinky out to her with a faint smile on your lips. Janet quickly hooked her pinky with yours, holding your gaze just to ensure that you knew she wasn’t messing with you.

With a decided nod, the two of you settled into the breakfast nook, forced to sit close shoulder-to-shoulder thanks to the table’s other occupants. Once more, you ducked your heads together to hear one another over all the noise.

“I miss you.” Janet admitted as if it would somehow upset you, “Things are different without you; Amelia and Duncan are becoming unbearable.”

“Then ditch them.” You slurred as if the idea was the simplest thing in the world - and for you, it had been. But Janet huffed indecisively.

“I can’t,” You were about to argue, but she continued before you got the chance, “ we graduate in May, I really don’t want to find a new crowd to spend time with till then.”

Your brow furrowed as if the answer was obvious, “If you’re looking for someone to sit with at lunch or whatever, just hang with us.”

The face Janet pulled seemed on the verge of condescending, “No offense, but I’m not going to put myself in that position.”

“None taken.” You took a long swig of your drink, getting a little grumpy over the fact that this seemingly serious conversation was happening now; was a Halloween party really the only time that Janet could make this happen?

Seeing the way your face turned down, Janet quickly added, “You know I won’t fit in with your new friends.”

You shrugged, taking another sip of juice, “I didn’t think so either, but it’s not so bad; Eddie certainly helps.”

Janet’s expression softened, “Yeah, but I don’t have an Eddie.”

‘I don’t either,’ you thought ironically, staring into the contents of your cup for a moment. You could feel Janet’s eyes attempting to read you, studying your features thoughtfully and empathetically.

“You actually really like him, don’t you?” She asked, the question taking you by surprise - did she know that the two of you were lying? You forced yourself to focus, meeting her eyes as if silently asking her to elaborate, “I mean, we all thought maybe you were messing with us at some point, but you’re really into him.”

“Well… yeah.” You answered dumbly, unable to contain a drunken giggle - that was the first time you had actually said so out loud without the guise of D&D to hide behind. If you hadn’t been drinking, you probably would’ve held your tongue. Under Janet’s thoughtful eyes, your cheeks grew hot, and as you considered your ever increasing crush on Eddie, you nearly sighed as you longed to wonder what he actually thought of you, too.

After what felt like an eternity - although that was probably just the alcohol talking - Janet smiled, amused by your evident longing, “You seem… different with him. In a good way, I mean.”

You downed more of your drink with something of a sad smile, but you couldn’t let her know that this relationship wasn’t real, so you hoped she hadn't noticed it. You put on your best look of confidence, “I guess, yeah. Less bitchy, that’s for sure.”

The two of you shared a small laugh, Janet looking away from your eyes, “Well, I didn’t want to put it that way…”

You studied her for a moment, feeling yourself growing a little more dizzy as the alcohol continued to slowly seep in, “Jan… can we do this another time?”

She appeared hurt, and you could’ve kicked yourself for it.

“No, I mean,” you took a breath through your nose, trying to figure out a better way of saying it, “Let’s catch up sober, you know?”

That was something you never would have suggested with a clear head, but admittedly this conversation made you realize that it was nice to have someone outside of Eddie to talk to sometimes. Sure, a couple months ago you thought that Janet was a part of the problem, that she was one of the many factors causing you to want to rip your hair out, and yet, this couple of minutes alone together was refreshing.

Janet’s smile was large and dazzling in response, and she nodded excitedly, “Maybe I’ll call you this weekend?”

You nodded back, and after a short round of farewells, Janet took off to join whoever she may have been here with. You returned to the drinks, refilling your cups before heading back out to find Eddie, hoping he hadn’t been worried over where you were.

Although the party had died down just a little, the place was still loud and the house was still just as crowded as ever. While pushing your way past people, you could feel your drunkenness throughout your body, but compared to previous parties, it seemed manageable enough, though that could change at the drop of a hat.

When you finally stepped back outside again, you were relieved to see Eddie sitting exactly where you left him, still intently focusing on the group of band kids; now, however, they were all passing around a joint, everyone’s energy a little more relaxed than when you left them. All the seats were now occupied as more people joined in on the smoke session, but you were too focused on Eddie to really notice; careful not to trip over yourself and topple into the pool, you went to join them again.

Once Eddie’s eyes found yours, the two of you smiled fondly at one another, your expression probably far too eager compared to his relaxed, stoned face. You couldn’t help but find amusement in it, eager to see how different he may act now that he was crossfaded, although he seemed to be keeping it together.

“Took you long enough.” He teased keenly once you within earshot; you shot him a chaff look before setting the drinks on the table in the middle of everyone, managing to spill one of them a little. As you cursed to yourself, Eddie laughed while studying you for a brief moment, “Did you get drunker?”

Catching the way his words slurred ever so slightly, you gave him a taunting grin with narrowed eyes, “Did you?”

You giggled as if you found your question oh-so amusing, looking around for a moment only to finally realize all the seats were taken. Your lips turned down briefly as your attention fell back towards Eddie, who raised a challenging brow at you; was that expression in regards to your observation, or was he just being goofy? And why was he challenging you, if that’s in fact what his brow was conveying?

With your own decided look, you settled into Eddie’s lap without any warning, feeling the way he tensed in surprise; you were situated so that you could continue to look at his face, drinking in his features slowly as if the others around you were all but forgotten. He stared back at you, eyes a little wide, clearly still taken aback that you made the move to get this close to him. Again, you were struck with the thought that this wouldn’t have happened if you were just a little more sober.

You must have swayed some, because Eddie settled his hand gently on your back to steady you, his eyes locked with yours as if unable to look away; you grinned at him fondly. After a few moments of deep thought and some confusion, he smiled back with a hint of nerves, before allowing his attention to drift back to the conversation that had been going on around you. In the next moment, the joint had made its way back to Eddie, and you both took quick puffs before passing it on.

You tried to follow whatever discussion was happening, but there were enough overlapping voices that after a while you could no longer tell what the subject even was; rather, it seemed that half a dozen conversations were happening all at once, everyone else seamlessly gliding between them. And somewhere amidst it all, you managed to finish both your drink and half of Eddie’s, which he didn’t seem all that interested in finishing now that he was getting high as a kite.

Once the joint had made it back to you a second time and you took a deeper drag, you dropped your head to rest atop Eddie’s shoulder, feeling emboldened by the drinks, the drugs, and the desire for him. You didn’t notice that he was watching you from the corner of his hooded, red eyes, inhaling your scent while simultaneously wondering why you were being so soft and tender with him.

Eddie’s cheek pressed a little to the crown of your head as he teased in a whisper, “Don’t tell me you’re already tired.”

“No.” You insisted, wanting to lift your head so you could look him in the eye, but enjoying the position you were in far too much for that. A thought crossed your mind, and you furrowed your brow at it, “Are you just trying to get out of here?”

Eddie lifted his head, allowing you to meet his dark eyes and become practically hypnotized by them. He shook his head at you simply, to which you grinned, “No… This is nice, actually.”

You leaned in close towards his face with a triumphant look, “I told you this would be fun.”

He smiled back fondly, even as he rolled his eyes at you, “Don’t let it go to your head, princess; you can’t be right all the time.”

“Just most of the time.” You taunted, realizing with confusion that one of your hands was delicately fussing with the fabric of his shirt. When did you start doing that?

Your eyes trailed down the open collar of his shirt, enjoying the sight of his skin; thoughtlessly, your hand traveled up his torso to tease at the hem of the collar, which made Eddie tense yet again. A smirk ghosted across your lips as you met his gaze again flirtatiously.

“What, afraid of touching me?” Your boldness made Eddie blanch in surprise, and from the corner of your eye you spotted the way his free hand clenched into a fist. As if to make a point, you reached for it and set it comfortably atop your thigh before returning your attentive stare to his face.

Finding his voice, Eddie licked his dry lips and responded simply, “You don’t like when people touch you.”

You didn’t miss a beat as you said, “I like when you do.”

Eddie’s heart drummed wildly in his chest; god, he wished you two weren’t crossfaded right now. He knew coming to this party meant repeating shit that happened at the last one, that it would make things even more confusing and overly complicated. Even since homecoming night he’d been nervously wondering what the hell was going on between you two; so many interactions had felt charged with things unsaid, had felt tense with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

And now this? The way you looked at him as if he were the sun, the way you touched his chest as if you didn’t want to break him? Suddenly, Eddie realized that maybe this shit wasn’t pretend anymore. If he hadn’t been quite so inebriated, he could have kept you at arm's length, could have made sure that nothing was going to happen tonight.

But Eddie wasn’t sober, and neither were you, and he was damn near ready to let just about anything happen between you two.

“Hey, Munson,” Someone urged with a nudge to Eddie’s shoulder, pulling the both of you out of your shared reverie. Eddie blinked a few times to reorient himself before looking at the kid next to him, who held out the nearly finished joint. As if in a slight daze, Eddie took it, eyes drifting back to yours while slowly bringing the joint to his mouth.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip as you watched Eddie through hooded eyes. It was as if everything was in slow motion; the way the joint glowed a beautiful orange as he deeply inhaled, chest rising as he held the smoke in and blindly offered the joint to the person next to him, too wrapped up in the way you were ogling him to pull his eyes away.

The intensity in the way Eddie held your gaze was like a magnet, and really you weren’t sure which of you leaned in first, or if you two had done so in-sync. Your hands trailed up Eddie’s torso, cupping his cheeks tenderly as his fingers squeezed hungrily into your thigh; your noses brushed, still gazing at one another before, finally, no distance was left between you.

Your lips locked in an aching, open-mouthed kiss, Eddie sighing as the smoke slowly rolled from his lungs into yours. Your grip on his face tightened as you became wrapped up in the taste of weed and booze and the smell of his skin, his hands possessively clinging to you as if afraid to let go now that he had you.

As smoke began to trail from your nose, your lips became firm and insistent against Eddie’s, a desperate little sound humming in your throat. A rush of warmth flooded through you and pooled at your center as Eddie held you even tighter, kissing you as if you were the goddamn air he breathed, with a sloppy fervor that made your head spin. His lips were intoxicating, more so than anything you’d consumed all night, and your fingers began to tangle in his hair with a near lustful aggression, to which he moaned lowly into the kiss.

“Jesus, will you two get a room,” Someone in the group commented in a tone that was both disgusted and amused, causing laughter to peel out amongst your peers. You were almost too consumed by Eddie to even notice, but luckily he had enough sense about him to pull his lips from yours with a slight pop, his eyes shooting in the direction of whoever interrupted you.

Catching your breath, you stared at Eddie’s face as if to steady yourself, practically dizzy. Slowly, you looked around the group; some of them were trying to ignore your disgusting display of affection, some were too high to even notice in the first place, though a couple of people stared back at you with varying degrees of interest. The boy that you assumed interrupted you had a bit of a twist to his brow, and so you made a defiant face back at him; Eddie huffed out a slight laugh at it, which drew your lusty eyes back to him.

His stare was so damn dark and intense that it nearly took you aback, eyes practically black with desire; aside from that, you couldn’t quite guess what thoughts and feelings were swirling about his head. You studied his face for a moment, fingers delicately tracing their way back down his cheeks and neck to rest comfortably atop his shoulders; on the small of your back, his hand twitched a little.

Eddie continued to eye you closely, gaze carving a path of complicated desire from your head to your toe as if determined to see each and every bit of you. You were shockingly speechless, unable to even find your words thanks to the nerves in your stomach, mind swirling with weed and alcohol and a conflict of want. When Eddie’s eyes returned to yours yet again, bloodshot and hooded, there was a decided look about them.

“Come on.” He said in a husky voice; you gave a faint nod in response before rising to your feet, swaying a little upon standing. Eddie’s hands quickly grabbed yours to keep you steady, concern flashing across his eyes at how you nearly toppled over; his thumbs brushed the back of your hands in small circles, something so tender that it surprised you.

You tugged on Eddie’s hands, a silent indicator that you were fine and it was his turn to stand. As he rose to his feet, a hint of a devilish smile flashed across his lips, and he spared a quick look around the group; you could see that, even inebriated, he was about to act the showman that he usually was.

“Till next time, ladies and gents.” He said in lieu of a farewell, his tone both suggestive and teasing, as he let you pull him away from the crowd with a giggle.

Making your way back into the house, you barely noticed that the party was slowly beginning to dwindle, barely noticed that the music had gotten a little quieter and the smoky haze wasn’t nearly as thick; your mind was far too preoccupied with Eddie, wanting to drag his lips back to yours as soon as possible.

As Eddie took the lead and began to guide you past other partygoers, you realized you didn’t know what his plan was or where he was taking you; considering that he’d never been to the Hunter house before, you figured he didn’t have a clue either. You held firm to his arm as Eddie led you down a hall, a drunken smirk crossing your lips as he looked back at you with a dark glint in his eyes.

He pushed open an ajar door, pulling you into what must have been an office considering the heavy, rich wooden desk and bookshelves. Closing the door behind you, Eddie didn’t bother with the lights, guiding you blindly until your rear bumped the edge of the desk; he braced his palms on  either side of you, pinning you there. His head dipped down close to yours, foreheads practically brushing as he looked between your eyes despite the darkness, once more trying to make sense of something.

From this close, you could make out the curve of Eddie’s lips and the shadowed panes of his face; you bit the inside of your cheek, nervous yet eager, waiting to see what he planned to do or say now that he had you alone. Suddenly, you were feeling a hint more sober, as if the crowd was your safety blanket that had been abruptly taken from you, leaving you to fend for yourself under Eddie's intense stare.

“Why do you keep kissing me?” He asked in a low, almost needy voice that made you shiver, drawing your eyes back to his.

You licked your lips, torn now that you were confronted with the question so blatantly. The moments ticked by slowly as you ran through the endless ways of answering that; as if you could feel Eddie raising an impatient brow at you, you took a deep breath in preparation.

“Because I like to.” You answered oh-so simply, and yet the weight of the words felt heavy as ever between you two. You could hear the sharp breath Eddie took in response, knowing his eyes still bore into yours despite you struggling to make out his face in the dark. 

“Why?” It was asked as if he were at odds with himself, as if there was so much more he wanted to say but chose not you. 

 You dropped your gaze, staring at what you could see of Eddie's chest in the darkness, swallowing nervously; you were so ill-prepared to be having this discussion. Was there something in the air, because this was the second time you were cornered for a serious talk despite it being Halloween night.

Feeling your apprehension, Eddie sighed as if he understood exactly what was going on in your head. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot on your face, and you took a deep inhale at just how close to his lips were to yours; was he taunting you, antagonizing you so that you'd finally explain yourself to him? You sighed at the sensation of his lips needily ghosting against yours, feeling the way he smiled at the sound. Suddenly, you wished that you’d made one more stop in the kitchen - a shot would do wonders for your nerves right about now.

God, the temptation to reach up and kiss him again was insane, despite another part of you wanting to retreat from this entire conversation, far too nervous and worked up. It was as if Eddie could tell you were growing antsy, because he moved in even closer, pinning you against the desk; your breath hitched at the feel of his body practically on top of yours.

“Gonna leave me hanging, princess?” He asked in a low voice. You leaned back a little as if that could somehow create distance between the two of you, but you already knew it was a moot point. Eddie’s arms moved in even closer on either side of you, his knuckles grazing against your hips as he kept you trapped. In a meager effort to bolster yourself, you crossed your arms and tried to raise your chin confidently, despite the wild beating of your heart in your chest; you could just see the glint of light off Eddie’s teeth as he smiled at your nerves.

You finally found your voice, trying to sound brave, “Why do you kiss me back?”

A laugh sounded in Eddie’s throat, as if the answer was blatantly obvious and he didn’t have to say it. He shook his head, eyes shining in the sliver of moonlight as he looked at you; his expression was deathly serious, and yet, you could see a pleased look as he responded, “Because I like to.”

The repeating of your own words made you shiver, warmth pooling in your center as you sharply inhaled. Your arms slacked, falling to your sides, fingertips brushing against Eddie’s forearms. You tried to swallow the nervous lump in your throat as his answer began to feel heavier and heavier the more you thought about it.

Did he just… admit that he felt the same way as you? And did he understand all the implications in your own confession? Or had you not made yourself clear enough, did Eddie misunderstand this as purely a physical thing going on between you two? The overthinking was already driving you mad.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out - you weren’t even sure what you wanted to say, really, because you had about a hundred things already swirling around in your head. Eddie was still so close, his body heat practically enveloping you, his mouth mere inches away, taunting you and enticing you.

Licking your lips, you finally managed to ask in a tone that was both wanting and uneasy, “Then… this isn’t fake?”

You could hear the smile in Eddie’s voice as he whispered, “You tell me, princess.”

You practically shivered again, tempted to drag his lips back to yours hungrily, but your head was still spinning. Every interaction with Eddie up to this point suddenly came under your scrutiny - each and every glance and laugh and brush of your hands, all the time you spent together, all the things said between you.

Suddenly, you wondered if this had ever truthfully been fake, considering that, in a way, you and Eddie had gone through the exact motions anyone would when they started dating. The time spent alone, getting to know one another, sharing secrets with each other, having in-jokes and things only the two of you could laugh at - was that not dating? Hell, even the times you kissed - whether drunken or for show - were never truly false, at least not on your part.

Eddie could feel all your nerves and anxieties spilling out of you, a tension building the longer you considered everything, the longer you hesitated to answer; it was making him apprehensive, too, wondering if maybe he fucked up just now, wondering if this wasn’t the right time or way to admit his feelings. He tried so hard to be confident about it, to make things a little more clear, but why was he starting to feel like he fumbled that?

You laughed smally, unexpectedly, causing Eddie to furrow his brow despite knowing you couldn’t see his face in the dark. Although you were edgy and tense, you tipped your head back a little, knowing that you were but a breath away from Eddie as you laughed airily again as if amused by something. Feeling the question in his energy, you bit the inside of your cheek before speaking again.

“Should’ve known that D&D game was suspicious…” You whispered with good humor, shaking your head as you recalled the way you two had used the safety of your characters to communicate with one another. Eddie, too, chuckled smally, his forehead unintentionally brushing against yours as he looked down.

“I figured you were just playing along.”

“No.” You murmured, faintly shaking your head again. Now that you were already being vulnerable, you plucked up a little more courage, taking a deep breath before asking, “What was that song?”

Eddie’s curls tickled against your skin, “Song?”

You smiled tensely, “The, uh… song from that night in the van.”

Eddie straightened up with surprise, though you instantly assumed you fucked up somehow by asking. Your eyes grew wide, half expecting him to back away from you, hands about ready to reach out and grab him before he could make a retreat. But instead, he chuckled devilishly, turning his face up towards the ceiling as a deep exhale passed between his lips.

“Oh, I knew it.” Eddie seemed to be muttering to himself before trying to find your eyes again in the dark; there was a sudden jittery quality to his energy, a sudden electricity sparking off of him, “I knew you remembered.”

And before you had the chance to answer him, Eddie swooped in, hungrily capturing your lips with his own in a fierce kiss as his body pinned you against the desk. Your heart stuttered wildly, momentarily frozen in surprise before your senses came back to you.

Feverish and needy, you flung your arms tightly around Eddie’s neck, kissing him with all the pent up desire that you’d been harboring for weeks. Your nails scratched at the base of his skull, causing him to moan while tightly winding his arms around your middle, hands firm and greedy against the small of your back. His touch was fucking intoxicating, body warm against yours, lips desperate and zealous; it put your mind in a frenzy, your senses on high as a coil began to tighten in your stomach.

You broke away for a split second, hopping up onto the desk before dragging Eddie’s lips back to yours as if you needed him to breathe, spreading your knees so that he could slot himself between them. He sighed achingly at the way your thighs tightened on either side of him, your ankles hooking around the back of his legs as if to lock him there.

Eddie’s kisses were fierce and full of yearning, fingers digging into your skin as he slipped his tongue past your lips; with an eager moan, you rolled your body against his, hands winding tightly in his hair. You could feel the way his breath hitched, which only encouraged you to grind your hips again, nice and deep and slow; a groan rumbled in his throat at your taunting, hands flexing as if he wanted to touch you everywhere all at once.

God, you wished that you’d pulled your head out of your ass sooner so you could've been kissing Eddie unabashed all this time; you fit together so damn perfectly, bodies melding together and lips locked with matched intensity as if you were made for each other. Your center felt tight and your toes curled, your knees weak and mouth needy as you clung to Eddie as if you planned on never letting go.

Is this how it was supposed to feel - passionate and untamed and ardent, as if you were fucking burning for him? You’d never wanted anything the way that you craved Eddie right now, and this mad desire was making your head spin.

Eddie tried to pull his lips from yours, but you hungrily gave chase, continuing to kiss him even as he smiled and laughed at your desperation; he cupped your cheeks tenderly in his hands just so he could hold you back, gaze attempting to find yours in the dark of the room. You caught your breath together, chests heaving deeply, the sound of the party just on the other side of the door bringing you back to yourself.

Sliding his hands down your neck and arms, Eddie grabbed your wrists and tugged you off the desk, blindly guiding you through the dark. He captured your lips in a sloppy kiss, causing you to laugh as the two of you fumbled about the room until he evidently found what he was searching for - Eddie fell back into a chair and dragged you along with him. You nearly gasped in surprise as you plopped into his lap, readjusting until you were straddling him, all the while refraining from breaking out of the kiss.

Eddie’s hungry moans and wandering hands made you shiver, pressing desperately against his body and kissing him deeply. You rolled your hips rousingly, the twitch of his cock causing a delighted sound to hum in your throat; Eddie’s fingers dug into your waist, holding you tight as he pressed up against you with a hint of trepidation, as if he wasn’t quite sure of himself. You laughed faintly at his uncertainty, swiping your tongue along his lower lip encouragingly as you clung a little tighter to him.

You rutted your hips again, slower and more assertive, practically sighing at the feel of Eddie growing harder beneath you. The desire for him stirred memories of your wet dream, moaning as you felt that coil winding tight again, pressing yourself more firmly against Eddie; he muttered longingly into your lips, words incoherent and broken up by the severity of your kiss.

You pulled away from Eddie’s lips, pressing your forehead to his as you caught your breath and twisted your fingers in his hair. Slowly, you grinded your body against his, each roll of your hips deep and wanton, feeling your desire already growing slick between your legs. The moan that left your mouth was vulgar when Eddie pressed himself up against you, your head tipping back at your body’s eager response.

Eddie’s lips forged a hot trail down your neck, one hand sliding up the back of your shirt while the other squeezed your thigh; it was as if electricity was shooting through you, faintly gasping as his teeth nipped uncertainly against your skin. Emboldened, you began rutting your hips against Eddie’s cock at a tantalizing pace, the friction so damn good even between all these layers of fabric. When he moaned against your neck, it only made you grind a little harder, toes curling as you tugged eagerly at his hair.

Had the weeks of build up really made you this sensitive? You were fully clothed and dry humping, yet already your pussy was clenching, your arousal growing with each breath and kiss and grind as if you were a goddamn virgin. And the way Eddie clung to you, the way he moaned and sighed with such yearning, was making it that much harder to keep it together - his hitched breaths and grabbing hands only encouraged you to chase that insatiable desire of yours.

You impatiently untangled your fingers from Eddie’s hair, fussing with the buttons down the front of your shirt, grumbling a little when you struggled with some of them; you could feel the way he smiled into your kiss with amusement. Once the shirt had been discarded, you excitedly cupped Eddie’s cheeks, kissing him deeply and earnestly, body pressed against his with such pining that one might think you were afraid he’d disappear. His hands were hot against your back, sliding from your shoulder blades down to your waist, his fingertips seemingly memorizing the feel of your skin; when they grazed the sensitive spot on your lower back, you arched into him with a sharp inhale, and so he held you even tighter.

You broke away from Eddie’s lips again, gazing down at him through hooded eyes, finally able to make out his features a little better thanks to the moonlight; he looked back up at you with such awe that your grinding stuttered, taken aback by the way he drank you in. His parted lips were inviting you back in for a kiss, but you were far too enthralled in the sight of him, enjoying the lustful look on his face as you tried to find a deeper rhythm for your hips.

The whispering of your name in Eddie’s mouth made you gasp amorously, his tone low and doting like it was a goddamn prayer. Your hands held firmer on either side of his neck as you tried not to come undone right then and there, so damn easily that it was near maddening. Eddie’s head dropped back against the chair cushion when your grinding became a little more feverish, hands gripping your hips so tight that you thought it may bruise. You pressed your hot center even more salaciously against the thick outline of his cock, the both of you moaning even more shamelessly in unison.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head once you found that perfect angle of your hips, the stimulation against your clit making you gasp more wildly and cling to Eddie more desperately. Your toes began to curl as your back arched, keeping at your erotic rhythm now that you could feel yourself getting closer and closer at near whiplash speed. Eddie, too, tried to match the grinding of his hips to yours, chasing after the mounting pleasure with deep moans and clinging hands, incoherent words of rapture falling past his lips.

“Fuck, wait-- wait--” Eddie abruptly dug his fingers into your skin, holding firm in an attempt to stop the rutting of your hips, to push you away from his cock. You whined indecently at the loss of friction, searching Eddie’s face in the dark with a confused - even a little galled - furrow of your brow. He panted heavily, head still resting back and hands still holding you desperately as he tried to compose himself.

A breathy laugh passed Eddie’s lips before he finally lifted his head to meet your eyes, a hooded look of contentment across his face. The corner of his mouth pulled into a smile as one of his hands trailed up your side, fingers gentle against your neck and jaw as he studied you; your expression was still a little confused and selfish as you took him in.

“You got me way too close,” He said airily, tone amused yet still lustful; he took another deep, grounding breath, “really didn’t want to make a mess of myself at a damn party.”

Eddie laughed again almost as if he was in disbelief, and you couldn’t help but giggle as well, grabbing either side of his face and holding him tenderly. The way he looked up at you with some kind of amazement made you squirm, his unabashed look of awe feeling nearly unwarranted. You licked your lips and swallowed, finding your voice again.

“Let’s go, then.” You answered simply, tone husky with desire; you leaned in a little closer, lips hovering just an inch away from his. Eddie’s fingers flexed against you, his sigh brushing across your cheeks. You pulled him in for one more eager, firm kiss, as if you needed it to hold you over till the two of you were long gone from this Halloween party.

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addt. Author's Note | chapter 16, my beloved 😭🖤 We've only got another chapter and epilogue after this, so I can't wait to hear everyone's thoughts~

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

@costellation-hunter @daisy-munson @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie

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@frogtape @fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames @graciehams @kellsck

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@maskofmirrors @mewchiili @miaajaade @miss-celestial-being @mmmunson

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@whats-my-question @xxsxdghxstxx

[voidsentprinces]

Reminder: A Realm Reborn wasn't particularly about us. It was about the Eorzean Factions, it was about the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and their interactions with and thwarting Gaius and the XIVth Legion. We were just a useful champion slowly growing to fame but not truly a Warrior of Light until literally the prelude to the Castrum raiding mission.

The Parting of Glass wasn't about us either. It was, once again, about the world. And how it had begun changing after Gaius's fall and the brief period of peace away from Garlemald's Shadow. About Alphinaud beginning his arc of growth with hubris and the creation the Crystal Braves and what it might of looked like IF the Scion's good nature was lent to anyone and everyone. And thus opening itself up to the very corruption Minfilia feared to move away from the Waking Sands and to the Rising Stones in the first place.

Heavensward isn't about us. It is about Alphinaud's continue growth, learning of Ishgard's past and history. Hubris, arrogance and narrow viewing lead Alphinaud to steps of the Foundation, it has lead Estinien astray and made Ysayle believe she is a messiah incarnate. And through the journey, each of them grow as they learn the terrible truth about the Dragonsong War. Estinien in particular has his eyes opened and no longer simply seeks revenge on Nidhogg but to get to the bottom of it all. So no other shepherd's son has to live as he has. Ysayle learns she is a shade and a faux Shiva not truly Hraesvelgr's beloved or even in the same category as her. She learns swallow such delusions and embrace what Saint Shiva stood for in its entirety. Which means leaning to lay the road for peace between Ishgard and the Dragons and opening a path to this by sacrificing herself for those she loved so dearly. Alphinaud learns from all of this and more and is humbled by the duty of a knight, the fervor of a dragoon, the sacrifice of a saint, and the courage of his companions and of Sharlayan's arrogance from Master Matoya. To put others before himself and allow others to support him when he falls.

The Far Edge of Fate isn't about us. It was about how Ishgard carries on after Thordan and the Heavens Ward are shown to be the monsters they are. How the remnants of the church, the knights of Ishgard, and the civilian population react to the realization with rejection. How facing off against Nidhogg possessing Estinien, the Warriors of Darkness, and the machinations of Ilberd force Eorzea and Ishgard to look inward and know truly where they should go from there. To ignore the easier road and take the higher path no matter the strife and hardship it provides them. Because when they reach the otherside they would be better for it. Finding that courage, after five years of procrastinating and hemming and hawing, the Eorzean Alliance finally begin to mobilize to free Ala Mhigo from Garlemald and perhaps take on the Empire itself.

Stormblood isn't about us. It is about Doma and Ala Mhigo fighting for the survival of their people and cultures. Facing the parts of their society that were spurned and used as tools of hatred against their principles. That provided the necessary cracks required for Garlemald to break them down and oppress them in the first place. And how reforging under those values and those long histories of violence can make a new path and come to terms to over throw the tyrants who fed on their weakened states and make a strong unity still.

A Requiem of Heroes wasn't about us, it was about the world facing down the barrel of war with Garlemald. And uncovering its origins, its founding father was an Ascian. How Varis is forced to face down the lie as Elidibus wears the skin of his son and the great grandfather he and other Garleans were taught was a walking god in all but name was a sham and a daemon bent on causing more pain and suffering than mankind ever deserved. How the effigies of hate and pain choose to use their fervor to help their people instead of turning against them once more. How every person can change and be given a second chance. How that second chance is what that person requires or if they are pushed the wrong direction, can caused tragedy to unfold. And lastly, it is about our companions, slowly. One by one. Being dragged to the unknown. The story slowly taking away the players on the stage until finally...

Shadowbringers was about us. It was about how we were instrumental to the world so much that it lost nearly all hope in another timeline. How a group of your fondest friends began and how your comrade's furthest decendents acting on the hope of your legend and stories. To provide a plan of action and lead to happier world. How even when everything seems lost and gone and your purpose seems to turned everything around you into twisted monstrosities. That you can bring the night and wait in comfort for a dawn to bring better days. And the tenacity of your aid providing a world on the brink, the love, the compassion, the understanding, the strength, and the will to stand up to a flood of destruction and spit fate in the eye. Even it costs them everything, they keep fighting until they can see a brighter tomorrow.

Death unto Dawn was about what the tomorrow brings. How it could be another fight but to find what is WORTH fighting for. The memories of those you fight and lived amongst, old studies and things of the past being made to provide the answer to the future, making right wrongs even against those you had wronged unfairly, and to gather together and keep each other safe. You are not alone out here. There are those who will help you along to a brighter future.

Endwalker was about you and yours. About how everyone reacts to an uncertain future in different manners. How some would make ready to flee at the approaching storm, while others would fight, and others might even push you further to the edge. But even when all is lost, call upon the memory of happier times to light the way with hearts aligned shining brilliantly against despair and finding your place amongst those memories.

Growing Light was about us teaching another to hear, feel, and think and experience the world seemingly gone. That everything needn't be give or take. It can be a charitable, warmer place if we make it. It can be kinder and even in the face of unrelenting and undying destruction. Hope will spit out a tooth and stand up once more.

I say all of this because, I've seen people mad that Dawntrail is leaning hard about being about Wuk Lamat and others. To which I say so what if Dawntrail is about Wuk Lamat and Koana? So what if its not about us? We've had four story lines about us. Now we must impart what we've learned to the future as they face similar and sometimes overwhelming odds. To stand tall against the onslaught and make their own choices, their own way to bring a smile to all they hold dear. How family needn't be blood related, they can just be a group who sit down at the table at the end of the day. And speak, laugh, cry, and love. Unto this trail to dawn we shall light way for the future of our world and everything this new dawn brings is worth it.

[librababe99]

Moments Between Time: Part One

CW: angst, hurt, dystopian, Mutant!Reader, mental anguish, existential despair, suggestive emotional and physical intimacy

Word Count: 2436

A/N: Hey loves! So I' m back with the first part of this new series featuring DOFP! Logan---Definitely one of my favorite x-men films that I went to see in theaters a few years back. I really hope y'all enjoy it--As always comments and feedback are highly appreciated! - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

(Part Two)

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The world had become a graveyard of memories, littered with the remnants of a civilization that once thrived. The skies, once a brilliant blue, were now a perpetually overcast gray, the sun a distant and pale shadow of its former self. Buildings stood as crumbling sentinels, their facades scorched and broken by years of unrelenting warfare. The air was thick with ash and the scent of burning, a constant reminder of the lives that had been lost and the battles yet to be fought.

The war had waged for years, perhaps decades—time had lost its meaning in the endless cycle of violence and survival. The Sentinels, monstrous machines designed to hunt and exterminate mutants, had decimated the population. Humanity, too, had been nearly eradicated in the crossfire, caught between the relentless advance of the Sentinels and the desperate resistance of the mutants. Those who remained were either in hiding or dead. The world was a barren wasteland, devoid of hope and teetering on the edge of oblivion.

You stood on the precipice of what was once a thriving city, now reduced to ruins. The wind howled through the skeletal remains of skyscrapers, carrying with it the echoes of a world that no longer existed. Your heart was heavy with the weight of all you had seen, all you had lost. But you were still standing, still fighting. You had no other choice.

Your powers had been both a blessing and a curse in this war. The ability to manipulate time was a formidable weapon, allowing you to slow it, speed it up, or even rewind it in brief bursts. But every use took a toll, draining your energy, leaving you weaker with each passing day. It was a power that came with a price—a price you had paid over and over again, watching friends and allies fall only to rewind their deaths, knowing that it would only delay the inevitable.

And yet, despite everything, you had survived. You were one of the last remaining members of the X-Men, a shadow of the team that had once stood as a beacon of hope in a world that feared and hated them. But hope was a luxury none of you could afford anymore. Survival was all that mattered, and even that seemed like a losing battle.

Beside you, Logan Howlett—Wolverine—surveyed the desolate landscape with a grim expression. His once fierce eyes were hardened by the years of combat, yet there was a depth of sorrow in them that matched your own. His presence was a constant, a rock in the storm that raged around you both. You had fought together through countless battles, each one more desperate than the last, and had watched the world crumble piece by piece.

Logan’s wounds healed quickly, his regenerative abilities keeping him alive when others would have perished. But even he was not immune to the emotional toll of this endless war. The loss of friends, of family, of a future worth fighting for—it all weighed heavily on him, carving deep lines into his face, turning his hair to gray.

For years, you and Logan had been comrades in arms, partners on the battlefield. But there was more between you than just the bond forged in blood and fire. There was something unspoken, a connection that ran deeper than either of you dared to acknowledge. It was a thread that had woven itself through the fabric of your shared experiences, pulling you closer even as the world around you fell apart.

The quiet moments between skirmishes had become precious, stolen time where the chaos of the world seemed to fade, if only for a brief while. It was in those moments that you would catch Logan’s gaze, his eyes searching yours as if seeking solace in the only place it could be found. There were times when your hands would brush, a fleeting touch that sent a spark through your entire being, a reminder that you were still alive, still capable of feeling something other than pain and despair.

But there was no room for love in a world like this. No room for the vulnerability that came with it. To love was to risk losing everything, and neither of you could afford that. So, you kept your feelings buried deep, hidden beneath layers of resolve and determination. There were more pressing matters at hand—survival, resistance, the slim chance of victory.

As the days passed and the future grew increasingly bleak, a plan began to take shape among the remaining X-Men. It was a desperate, last-ditch effort to change the course of history, to prevent the events that had led to this catastrophic timeline. The idea was to send someone back in time, to a point before the Sentinels were created, before the war had begun. It was a long shot, but it was the only chance you had left.

The choice of who to send was obvious. Logan was the only one who could survive the journey. His healing factor would protect him from the physical strain, and his mind was strong enough to endure the temporal displacement. But even with his abilities, the mission was fraught with danger. If it failed, if something went wrong, there would be no coming back.

Your role in the plan was just as crucial. Your powers would be used to anchor Logan’s consciousness in the past, to guide him and keep him connected to the present. It was a task that required immense concentration and would drain you of almost all your energy. You knew the risks, knew that there was a very real possibility that you wouldn’t survive the attempt. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was giving Logan a chance to succeed, to change the future, to save the world.

The night before the mission, you found yourself unable to sleep. The weight of what was to come pressed down on you, a heavy burden that you carried alone. You had always been strong, resilient, but the thought of what lay ahead filled you with a sense of dread that you couldn’t shake.

You sat alone in the darkness, the cold air seeping into your bones, your thoughts a tangled mess of fear and determination. The reality of the situation was sinking in—this could be the last night you ever spent in this world. The last night you would see Logan, hear his voice, feel his presence beside you.

The sound of footsteps drew you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see Logan approaching. His face was set in a somber expression, the lines of worry etched deep into his features. He said nothing as he sat down beside you, the silence between you heavy with the weight of all that was left unsaid.

For a long while, neither of you spoke. There was nothing that needed to be said, no words that could capture the magnitude of what was about to happen. But the silence wasn’t empty—it was filled with the unspoken emotions that had been building between you for years. The tension that had simmered beneath the surface, always there but never acknowledged, was now impossible to ignore.

Finally, it was Logan who broke the silence. His voice was rough, low, like gravel underfoot. “Tomorrow’s gonna be hell,” he muttered, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the first light of dawn was just beginning to break.

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “Yeah. It is.”

He turned to look at you then, his gaze intense, searching. “You ready for this?”

You met his eyes, seeing the concern there, the fear that he was trying so hard to hide. You managed a small, sad smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Logan’s hand reached out, hesitating for just a moment before he rested it on yours. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the cold that surrounded you, a lifeline in the darkness. You looked down at your joined hands, your heart pounding in your chest.

“This could be it,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “If things go wrong… I just… I don’t want you to—”

You shook your head, cutting him off before he could finish. “Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “Don’t say it. We can’t afford to think like that.”

But even as you said the words, you knew it was too late. The reality of the situation hung between you like a shadow, impossible to ignore. Logan squeezed your hand, the pressure grounding you, pulling you back from the edge of despair.

“You’re strong,” he said, his voice steady, reassuring. “Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. You’ll get through this. You have to.”

The intensity of his gaze, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered, took your breath away. For a moment, you felt like the world had stopped, that there was nothing but the two of you in that cold, desolate night.

Without thinking, you reached up and cupped his face in your hand, your thumb brushing lightly over the rough stubble on his cheek. “And you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You have to come back. You have to make it right.”

Logan’s eyes softened, the hardness in them giving way to something deeper, more vulnerable. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vowed, his voice fierce, filled with a determination that sent a shiver down your spine. “I swear, I’ll make it right.”

The moment hung between you, heavy and charged, the tension that had been building for years finally coming to a head. It was as if all the barriers you had both put up, all the walls you had built around your hearts, were crumbling in the face of what was to come.

Before you could second-guess yourself, before the fear could take hold, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was fierce, desperate, a collision of pent-up emotions that neither of you could contain any longer. Logan responded immediately, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as if he could merge your bodies, your souls, into one.

There was no room for hesitation, no time for doubt. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more intense, as if you were both trying to pour everything you felt into this one moment. It was a kiss born of desperation, of the fear that this might be your last chance to feel something real, something good, before the darkness swallowed you whole.

Logan’s other hand slid to your waist, pulling you into his lap as he kissed you with a fervor that left you breathless. You could feel the raw power in him, the barely-contained rage and pain that he carried with him every day, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to take it all away, to make him feel something other than the constant ache of loss and regret.

The world around you seemed to fade into nothingness, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other, clinging to this one moment of passion and vulnerability. It was as if time itself had stopped, holding you in a suspended reality where nothing else mattered.

But time, as always, was cruel. The kiss slowed, the intensity gradually ebbing away, leaving behind a bittersweet longing that settled deep in your chest. You pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against his, your breaths mingling in the cold air.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of all the things you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

He opened his eyes, and the raw emotion you saw there nearly brought you to your knees. There was so much in his gaze—love, fear, desperation, hope. It was almost too much to bear.

“Whatever happens tomorrow,” you said, your voice barely audible, “I need you to know… I—”

But before you could finish, Logan captured your lips again, silencing you with a kiss that was somehow even more tender, more meaningful than the last. It was a kiss that spoke of promises unmade, of words left unsaid, of a future that might never come.

When he finally pulled back, his hand still cradling your face, his expression was one of fierce determination. “You don’t have to say it,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “I know. I’ve always known.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, nodding as you leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hand on your skin. The dawn was fast approaching, the light slowly creeping over the horizon, casting long shadows over the ruined city.

The reality of what was to come settled over you both like a dark cloud, but in this moment, with Logan’s arms around you, you felt a sense of peace that had eluded you for so long. You knew that this could be the last time you ever saw him, the last time you felt his touch, his kiss. But you also knew that if anyone could change the future, it was Logan.

As the first rays of sunlight pierced the gloom, you pulled back, reluctantly breaking the embrace. Logan’s eyes searched yours, and you could see the same mixture of hope and fear reflected in them.

“It’s time,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart.

Logan nodded, his expression hardening as he prepared himself for what lay ahead. But before he could step away, you reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Promise me,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

Logan’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the hardness in his expression melted away, replaced by something tender, something achingly vulnerable. He squeezed your hand in return, his grip strong and reassuring.

“I promise,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’ll come back. I’ll find you.”

With one last lingering look, Logan turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows as he prepared to embark on the most dangerous mission of his life.

And as you watched him go, your heart heavy with a mixture of fear and hope, you whispered a silent prayer to whatever gods might still be listening, begging them to bring him back to you.

Because in this world of darkness and despair, Logan was your only light, your only hope.

And you weren’t ready to let that go.

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Taglist: @hughverine @itzyahgirllkita1 @nonamevenus

(If you'd like to be added to the tag list for this series moving forward just comment below <3 )

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Four-Cornered Hats from Peru and Bolivia, c.600-800 CE: these colorful, finely-woven hats are at least 1,200 years old, and they were crafted from camelid fur

Above: four-cornered hats made by the Wari Empire of Peru (top) and the Tiwanaku culture of Bolivia (bottom) during the 7th-9th centuries CE

Often referred to as "four-cornered hats," caps of this style were widely produced by the ancient Wari and Tiwanaku cultures, located in what is now Peru, Bolivia, and Chile.

According to the Metropolitan Museum of Art:

Finely woven, brightly colored hats, customarily featuring a square crown, four sides, and four pointed tips, are most frequently associated with two ancient cultures of the Andes: the Wari and the Tiwanaku. The Wari Empire dominated the south-central highlands and the west coastal regions of what is now Peru from 500–1000 A.D. The Tiwanaku occupied the altiplano (high plain) directly south of Wari-populated areas around the same time, including territory now part of the modern country of Bolivia.

Above: pair of four-cornered hats made by the Wari people of Peru, c.600-900 CE

Both cultures used the hair of local camelids (i.e. llamas, alpacas, or vicuñas) to produce their hats. The hair was harvested, crafted into yarn, and treated with colorful dyes, and the finished yarn was then woven and/or knotted into caps and other textiles. Four-cornered hats from both cultures were often decorated with similar stylistic elements, including geometric patterns (particularly diamonds, crosses, and stepped triangles) and depictions of zoomorphic figures such as birds, lizards, and llamas with wings.

Above: four-cornered hats made by the Tiwanaku people of Bolivia, c.600-900 CE

The two cultures used different techniques to construct/assemble their hats, however:

Although they shared certain technological traditions, such as complex tapestry weaving and knotting techniques, the Wari and the Tiwanaku utilized significantly different construction methods to create four-cornered hats. Wari artists typically fashioned the top and corner peaks as separate parts and later assembled them together. Tiwanaku artists generally knotted from the top down, starting with the top and four peaks, to create a single piece.

Above: a four-cornered hat from Bolivia or Peru, made by either the Tiwanaku or Wari culture, c.500-900 CE

There is evidence to suggest that four-cornered hats were often worn as part of daily life, as this publication explains:

Many have indelible marks of hard usage: wear along the edges and folds, a crusting of hair oil on the inside, remnants of broken chin ties, and ancient mends.

Above: a pair of hats made by the Wari culture of Peru, c.600-800 CE

Above: more hats from the Wari culture of Peru, c.700-900 CE, with colorful tassels decorating the four peaks of each cap

The oldest known/surviving examples of the Andean four-cornered hat date back to nearly 1,700 years ago. They began to appear along the northern coast of Chile at some point during the 4th century CE; these early hats had an elongated design with four short peaks, and they are typically associated with the Tiwanaku culture.

Above: this early example of a four-cornered hat was created by the Tiwanaku culture between 300-700 CE

Why indigenous artifacts should be returned to indigenous cultures.

Sources & More Info:

Metropolitan Museum of Art: Four-Cornered Hats 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12

Museum Publication: Andean Four-Cornered Hats (PDF available here)

Emory University: Four-Cornered Pile Hat

Metropolitan Museum of Art: Andean Textiles

[crapeaucrapeau]

Defunct ME1 Website Codex Entries

In the interest of preserving rare documents related to Mass Effect, I'm transcribing here the Codex entries which were on the ME1 website when the game first came out. They are reproduced here as they form much of the basis by which we understand Mass Effect ; in some cases, they are phrased differently from the Codex in the actual game, with additional information, or contradictions (e.g. the given length of the Krogan Rebellions). Link here : https://web.archive.org/web/20130326112139/http://masseffect.bioware.com/me1/galacticcodex/index.html

Each Codex entry comes in two parts : the "lede" on the starting Codex page, and the entry itself. In an archiving interest, associated polls are included, though they do not represent anything more than the intended market's opinions prior to the game's release. Everything is quoted verbatim, though I have done some formatting modifications for ease of reading.

Note : since this was very much part of the promotion for ME1, the intended audience is clearly human, but it's difficult at times to see if it's an in-universe "we" or an IRL "we". The polls, however, are clearly out-of-universe.

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SPECIES

The Advent of Humanity on the Galactic Stage

In the decades since our first encounter with the greater galactic community, humanity has risen quickly to prominence, establishing colonies throughout the stars. However, our population growth and military strength have led to resentful speculation that an invitation to join the ranks of the Council itself is imminent. [Read More]

The Advent of Humanity on the Galactic Stage

In the year 2148, humanity discovered Prothean ruins on Mars. The remnants of Prothean technology scattered amongst these ruins allowed them to develop mass effect fields and faster-than-light travel. This led them to discover and reactivate the mass relay at the edges of Earth's solar system, giving them access to the mass relay network spanning the rest of the galaxy and bringing them into contact with the greater galactic community.

2148 AD : Humanity discovers a small cache of highly advanced alien technology hidden deep beneath the surface of Mars. Building on the remnants of this long extinct race - known as the Protheans - humanity quickly masters the science of mass effect fields, leading to the development of faster than light travel.

2149 AD : Spreading out through their own solar system, humanity discovers that Charon, Pluto's moon, is actually a massive piece of dormant Prothean technology - a mass relay - encased in ice.

Once activated, humanity discovers that the mass relay allows instantaneous travel across thousands of light years to a synchronized mass relay in another part of the galaxy.

There they discover several more dormant relays. Over the next decade humanity expands rapidly, establishing colonies and activating dormant relays to open up more and more unexplored regions of space.

2155 AD : To defend its rapidly expanding empire, humanity assembles a massive fleet and constructs an enormous military space station at the nexus of several key mass relays…even though they have yet to encounter another intelligent space-faring species.

2157 AD : Humanity makes first contact with another space-faring culture: the turians. Unfortunately, the encounter is far from peaceful. Over the next several months a brief but tense conflict known on Earth as the First Contact war ensues.

This conflict draws the attention of the Citadel Council - a multi-species government body that maintains peace and stability throughout the known galaxy. The Council intervenes before hostilities escalate further, revealing the existence of the greater galactic community to humanity and brokering a peace between them and the turians.

2165 AD : Humanity continues to expand, founding more colonies and establishing trade alliances with many of the other species who recognize the authority of the Citadel Council. In 2165 the Council makes official recognition of humanity's growing power and influence in the galactic community. Humanity is granted an embassy on the Citadel, the political and economic heart of the galaxy.

2183 AD : Commander Shepard - a promising young officer in the Human Alliance military - is assigned to the crew of the Normandy, the most advanced prototype vessel ever designed.

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Turians: Friend or Foe?

We fought these raptor-like aliens in the First Contact War, but have since settled into an uneasy co-existence with them. Despite their code of honour, discipline, and work ethic, the question remains whether these Council members are friends or foes. [Read codex entry]

Citadel Council Race: Turians

The turians were the last of the Citadel races to join the Council. Their features are avian, making them resemble humanoid birds or raptors. They have a reputation for skill and bravery in combat, but they are not known to be bloodthirsty. A rigid code of honor and strict discipline are the hallmarks of any turian officer. This includes humane treatment of prisoners and conquered enemies. A turian patrol unit will never willingly leave behind one of their own, no matter what the cost of saving them.

Turian society is highly regimented and very organized, and the species is known for its strict discipline and work ethic. Turians are willing to do what needs to be done, and they always follow through. They are not easily spurred to violence, but when conflict is inevitable, they only understand a concept of "total war." They do not believe in skirmishes or small scale battles; they use massive fleets and numbers to defeat an adversary so completely that they remove any threat of having to fight the same opponent more than once. They do not exterminate their enemy, but so completely devastate their military that the enemy has no choice but to become a colony of the turians.

Other species see them as "men of action," and they are generally regarded as the most progressive of the Citadel races. Since their culture is based on the structure of a military hierarchy, changes and advances accepted by the leadership are quickly adopted by the rest of society with minimal resistance.

WEB POLL : Turians are an honourable and disciplined race. Why do you think humanity warred with them immediately after first contact in the year 2157?

There was a misunderstanding that blew out of proportion - 64%

They feared our potential and saw us as competitors - 23%

They probably always attack first to probe for weaknesses - 11%

They wanted the planet Earth and our colonies for themselves - 3%

Other - read my comments - 2%

Total votes : 30656

[The website proceeds to try to set up a dilemma as to whether the turians can be trusted by connecting first to Nihlus's Codex entry - the "Friend" - then Saren's - the "Foe".]

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Spotlight on the Krogan Race

Explore the reptilian race known as the Krogan. Part one reveals how their harsh and unforgiving homeworld has affected their evolution. Part two delves into their tragic history and waning foothold in the galaxy. The final part spotlights Urdnot Wrex, one of the last krogan Battle Masters. [Read more]

Krogan Series Part 1 - Krogan Biology

The krogan are a species of large reptilian bipeds native to the planet Tuchanka, a world known for its harsh environments, scarce resources, and overabundance of vicious predators. The krogan managed to not only survive on their unforgiving homeworld, but actually thrived in the extreme conditions. Unfortunately, as krogan society became more technologically advanced so did their weaponry.

Four thousand years ago, at the dawn of the krogan nuclear age, battles to claim the small pockets of territory capable of sustaining life escalated into full scale global war. Weapons of mass destruction were unleashed, transforming Tuchanka into a radioactive wasteland.

Due to the brutality of their surroundings, natural selection has played a significant role in the evolution of the species. Krogan reproduce and mature at an astonishing rate. Their large shoulder humps store fluids and nutrients, enabling them to survive extended periods without food or water. Their thick hides are virtually impervious to cuts, scrapes or contusions, and they are highly resistant to toxins, radiation, and extreme heat and cold.

Biotic individuals are rare, though those who do possess the talent typically have strong abilities. Their most amazing physiological features are the multiple instances of major organs; these secondary systems are capable of serving as back-ups in the event of damage to the primary biological structures. This redundancy makes them difficult to kill or incapacitate in normal combat scenarios.

WEB POLL : What do you think is the most interesting part of krogan biology?

Redundant organs - 50%

Rapid reproduction and growth rate - 21%

Thick hides impervious to many dangers - 16%

Large shoulder humps that store fluids and nutrients - 14%

Other - read my comments - 2%

Total votes : 11673

Krogan Series Part 2 - Rise and Fall of the Krogan

Roughly 2000 years ago the krogan were a primitive tribal species trapped on a world suffering through a nuclear winter of their own making. They were liberated by the salarians, who "culturally uplifted" the krogan by giving them advanced technology and relocating them to a planet not cursed with lethal levels of radiation, toxins, or deadly predators.

But the salarian intervention was not without an ulterior motive. At the time, the Citadel was engaged in a prolonged galactic war with the rachni, a race of intelligent space-faring insects. The salarians hoped the krogan would join the Citadel forces as soldiers to stand against an otherwise unstoppable foe. The plan worked to perfection: within two generations the rapidly breeding krogan had the numbers to not only drive the advancing rachni back, but pursue them to their home worlds and eradicate the entire species.

Saviors of the Galaxy

For a brief period the krogan were hailed as the saviors of the galaxy. However, without the harsh conditions of Tuchanka to keep their numbers in check, their population exploded. Overcrowded and running out of resources on their new home planet, the krogan spread out to forcibly claim other worlds...worlds already inhabited by races loyal to the Citadel.

The so-called Krogan Rebellions continued for nearly three centuries. The krogan sustained massive casualties, but their incredible birth-rate kept their population steadily increasing. Victory seemed inevitable. In desperation, the Council turned to the recently discovered Turian Empire for aid. The turians unleashed the genophage on the krogan home worlds: a terrifying bio-weapon engineered by the salarians. The genophage caused near total infant mortality in the krogan species, with only 1 birth in every 1000 producing live offspring.

The Genophage

No longer able to replenish their numbers, the krogan were forced to accept the turian terms of surrender. For their role in quelling the Krogan Rebellions the turians were rewarded with a seat on the Citadel Council. The krogan, on the other hand, still suffer from the incurable effects of the genophage. Over the last millennium krogan numbers have steadily declined, leaving them a scattered and dying people. Faced with the certainty of their extinction as a species, most krogan have become individualistic and completely self-interested. They typically serve as mercenaries for hire to the highest bidder, though many still resent and despise the Citadel races who condemned them to their tragic fate.

WEB POLL : Was use of the genophage on the krogan justified?

Yes, it was necessary to stop the krogan from taking over the galaxy - 53%

No, it was cruel and should not have been used - 42%

Other - read my comments - 6%

Total votes : 8160

[Wrex's entry has been moved to "Characters"]

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The Quarians - Galactic Nomads

Some believe quarians are a cybernetic blend that can survive for a time in the cold vacuum of space. Others believe they are so used to living on their makeshift ships they never remove their survival suits. Most condemn them for unleashing a dangerous, synthetic life form on the galaxy. [Read more]

The Quarians - Galactic Nomads

A nomadic race of humanoid aliens, the quarians are generally shorter and of slighter build than humans. They dress in a scavenged assortment of materials, hiding their faces behind visors, goggles, or breathing masks. Some believe the quarians are cybernetic, a blend of machine and biology that can survive for a time in the cold vacuum of space. Others believe the quarians are simply so used to living on their substandard, makeshift ships that they never remove their survival suits.

Three hundred years ago the quarians created the geth, a species of rudimentary AIs, to serve as an efficient source of manual labor. But the geth rebelled against their quarian masters and drove them into exile. Now the quarians wander the galaxy in a flotilla of salvaged ships, secondhand vessels, and recycled technology. Other species tend to look down on the quarians, seeing them as scavengers and condemning them for unleashing a dangerous synthetic life form on the rest of the galaxy.

WEB POLL : Should the quarians be held accountable for unleashing the geth?

No, it's all in the past and what's done is done - 63%

Hmmm, I'm not sure yet - 21%

Yes, punishment should be fast and swift - 16%

Other - read my comments - 2%

Total votes : 21535

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Geth: Universally Violent Creatures

Residing in the Terminus Systems, the geth are a humanoid race of networked AIs who overthrew their masters 300 years ago in a brutal war. They have evolved since then into numerous sub-forms, and everyone in the galaxy approaches them with extreme caution. [Read more]

Hostile Entity: the Geth

The geth are a bi-pedal, humanoid race of networked AIs that resides in the Terminus Systems. The geth were created nearly 300 years ago by the quarians as laborers and tools of war. When the geth began to question their masters, the quarians attempted to exterminate them. The geth won the resulting war. The example of the geth has led to legal, systematic repression of artificial intelligences in galactic society.

The geth can learn and grow intellectually, but they progress far more slowly than an organic being. Still, the story of the geth's creation and evolution serves as a warning to the rest of the galaxy of the potential dangers of Artificial Intelligence.

The closer geth physically are to each other, the more intelligent each one becomes. Effectively, they "share" brain power. An individual geth has only a basic intelligence on par with animal instincts, but in groups they can reason, analyze situations, and use tactics as well as any of the organic races.

Over time the geth have evolved into numerous sub-forms - from the diminutive but highly agile hoppers, to the gigantic, lumbering geth armatures. It should be stressed, however, that in all forms the geth are to be approached with extreme caution as they are universally violent creatures.

WEB POLL : The geth are out of control and feared throughout the galaxy. What will you do the first time you encounter a geth?

Frag it - 57%

Talk to it - 22%

Outmaneuver or trick it - 15%

Avoid it - 7%

Other - read my comments - 1%

Total votes : 25359

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The Batarians, From Bring Down the Sky

Debuting in the Bring Down the Sky downloable content pack, the batarians are a disreputable species infesting the Terminus Systems and menacing human colonies. [Read more]

The Batarians - A New Race in Bring Down the Sky

A race of four-eyed bipeds, the batarians are a disreputable species that chose to isolate itself from the rest of the galaxy. The Terminus Systems are infested with batarian pirate gangs and slaving rings, fueling the stereotype of the batarian thug. It should be noted that these criminals do not represent average citizens, who are forbidden to leave batarian space by their omnipresent and paranoid government.

In 2171, humans began to colonize the Skyllian Verge, a region the batarians were already actively settling. The batarians asked the Citadel Council to intervene and declare the Verge an area of "batarian interest." When the Council refused, the batarians severed diplomatic and economic relations, becoming an inward-looking rogue state. Money and weapons funneled from the batarian government to criminal organizations led to many brutal raids on human colonies in the Verge, culminating in the Skyllian Blitz of 2176.

The rest of the galaxy views the batarians as an ignorable problem. The government is still hostile to the Systems Alliance, but beneath the notice of the powerful Council races. It is not known what the average batarian thinks about their enforced isolation, as the Department of Information Control ensures that only government-approved news enters or leaves batarian space.

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CHARACTERS

Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams

Williams is a reliable and dedicated officer, but her aggressive instincts and blunt speech might lead to complications should she be required to interact with civilians. [Read more]

Systems Alliance Profile: Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams

Personnel File

Name: Ashley Madeline Williams Rank: Gunnery Chief Military Vocational Code: B4 Current Posting: 2nd Frontier Division, Eden Prime

Date of Birth: April 14, 2158 Place of Birth: Vercingetorix Outpost, Planet Sirona, 61 Ursae Majoris System Blood Type: B-positive

Genetic Enhancements:

In-utero vision correction (maternal predisposition for nearsightedness)

Class-B Alliance Infantry Upgrade Package

Dossier

Following family tradition, Chief Williams enlisted in the Alliance Marines directly out of high school and was assigned to the Recruit Training Depot in Macapá, Brazil.

During training, she certified proficient with the standard-issue M7 Lancer assault rifle and light and standard weight combat hardsuits. She completed certification in zero-gee combat aboard the Rakesh Sharma Orbital Platform in Earth geosynchronous orbit. For Hostile Environment Assault Training, she was assigned to Fort Charles Upham on Saturn's moon, Titan. She was awarded a commendation for her bold assault technique in a field exercise simulating an attack on turian point defense emplacements.

Drill Instructor Gunnery Chief Ellison noted her steadfast endurance and aggressive instincts, and promoted her to the role of squad leader. After observing her effective tutelage of the less skilled members of her training unit, he promoted her to platoon guide. She maintains a friendly correspondence with DI Ellison.

Chief Williams has served in a number of ground force garrisons on Alliance colony worlds and industrial outposts. She has repeatedly requested transfer to a shipboard posting, but each request has been denied without comment by her superiors.

Every year since enlistment, she has used her mandatory week of leave to visit her family on Amaterasu. In 2181, she made an exceptional request for a week-long leave of absence from her posting at the Czarnobóg Fleet Depot, citing family issues.

Personal Observations

Chief Williams' platoon has logged unanimous positive feedback on her leadership in the recent fitness review cycle. Private Nirali Bahtia praised her focus on team-building exercises and "tough but fair" discipline.

Williams is a reliable and dedicated noncommissioned officer, but her service in rear-area garrisons has prevented her from gaining actual combat experience. Her aggressive instincts and tendency to speak bluntly are suitable for a field unit, but might lead to complications if her duties require her to interact with civilians. Additionally, her political opinions may be problematic, given the focus on improving relations with the Citadel.

WEB POLL : Ashley is part of your party as you carry out Spectre missions. Do you think her inexperience, bluntness, and aggressive tendencies will pose a problem?

No, I'll think she'll be a great addition to my team. - 39%

I'm holding off judgement and will give her a chance. - 32%

No. As Commander I'll keep my troops in line. - 25%

Yes, I'm quite worried about it. - 5%

Other - here's what I think - 1%

Total votes : 18746

Systems Alliance Profile: Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams - Profile Updated

From: Ashley Williams (ashley.m.williams@edenprime.mil.sa) Sent: June 17, 2183 22:03 UT To: Sarah Williams (randori-girl@ward37.amaterasu.civ.pub) Subject: Re: Hey sis

James left today. He's been reassigned to one of the new Rapid Response Bases out in the Kepler Verge. Lucky bastard. It's like the ancient west out there – pirates and slavers coming out of the Terminus Systems all the time. He gets to play the cavalry, riding out in frigates any time someone's house gets burned down.

I made some speech about how he was a valuable asset to the squad and he better make us look good out there, blah blah. I suck at speeches. I was cribbing from something I read back in history class. I don't think anyone noticed.

I'm going to miss him. Don't tell anyone.

So you think James is cute, eh? Yeah, well, when you said I should "go for him" – not gonna happen, kiddo. See, we have rules about "fraternization." You don't do The Deed with your fellow troops, especially if they're under you in rank. There's all sorts of problems that can happen when two people in the same unit get together.

Let's say your unit is in a tight spot. Some bug-eyed aliens are going to overrun the galaxy. They eat babies, smell bad, and don't have elbows. Nasty. You're told to guard the rear. To let everyone else escape, someone is ordered "hold this spot until we're gone." Someone has to be left behind. You think it's going to be someone you're sleeping with?

I've served with these guys for eight months now. Yeah, some of them make me feel tingly (and yeah, James was kinda scruffy-cute). I hope I never have to decide who lives and who dies. But if I have to, my decision can't be muddled up by magic-sparkly-hearts-and-stars feelings.

Anyways, I'm gonna knock off here. I've got dog watch in a few hours. Want to get a shower and a meal before then. Talk at you tomorrow.

- Ash

This message originated from an Alliance military network. It has been censored at transmission source for security purposes. Any reply may be read by military authorities.

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Agent Profile: Nihlus Kryik

Nihlus Kryik is one of the Citadel Council's most decorated Spectre agents. Cool under pressure, he has an uncanny ability to find an enemy's weakness and exploit it. [Continue]

Spectre Agent Nihlus Kryik

Nihlus Kryik is one of the Citadel Council's most decorated Spectre agents. Born in a small mercenary outpost outside Hierarchy space, he learned the hard way to fight for what he wanted. His father died when he was 16, and his mother forced him to join the turian military. His outsider status made life difficult; though he was always at the top of his class, his superiors and peers never truly accepted him.

As a soldier, Nihlus' skills were unquestionable. His attitude, however, often got him in trouble. On several occasions, he disobeyed direct orders to do what he thought was best. Although his instincts were usually proven right, his notoriety grew. Even when he single-handedly routed an enemy patrol, and saved his squad from ambush, his commanding officers berated him for his recklessness. His military career seemed to stall before it even began.

After being reassigned to a new squad for the third time, Nihlus was introduced to Saren Arterius, a fellow turian and a Spectre. Saren was impressed with the young soldier. He befriended Nihlus and offered to mentor him. Within a year of meeting Saren, Nihlus was asked to join the Spectres.

Free from the restrictions of military procedure, Nihlus excelled in his new role. He quickly stepped from his mentor's shadow and established himself as one of the Council's top agents. Since then, Nihlus has completed countless missions as a Spectre, each one more difficult and dangerous than the last.

Cool under pressure, Nihlus has an uncanny ability to find an enemy's weakness and exploit it. Though his methods aren't as brutal as Saren's, he will not hesitate to efficiently and thoroughly eradicate anything or anyone that stands in his way.

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Agent Profile: Saren Arterius

Saren Arterius is the longest serving turian member of the Spectres. Recently, he has become an outspoken opponent of human expansion in the galaxy, and many fear he may soon decide to take matters into his own hands.

Agent Profile - Saren Arterius

Saren Arterius is the longest serving turian member of the Spectres - the elite military operatives answering directly to the Citadel Council. For 24 years he has been an agent of the Council's will, a zealous defender of galactic stability in the unsettled border region of the Skyllian Verge.

Official records of Spectres are sealed, but it is known that Saren followed turian tradition and entered the military at the age of 15. In 2155 he was promoted to active service after only a year of training, though it is unclear whether his unit was involved in any of the battles against human forces during the First Contact War of 2157.

In 2159 he became the youngest turian ever accepted into the Spectres. Intelligent, cunning and capable, Saren quickly developed a reputation for ruthless efficiency. Although there were a number of unsettling rumors about the brutality of his methods, there was no denying his results.

In recent years Saren has become an outspoken opponent of human expansion. Like many other non-humans, he believes the Alliance has become overly aggressive in its efforts to establish the people of Earth as a dominant species in Citadel space. As a Spectre it is generally believed he will continue to follow the will of the Council in this matter, but there are some - particularly among the Alliance - who fear Saren may soon decide to take matters into his own hands.

WEB POLL : Do you think Saren is correct - are humans expanding too rapidly in the galaxy?

No - 51%

Yes - 33%

I'm not sure - 16%

Other - read my comments - 1%

Total votes : 14555

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Wrex, Krogan Battle Master

Urdnot Wrex is one of the last krogan Battle Masters: rare individuals who combine powerful biotic abilities with the devastating firepower of advanced weaponry... [Continue]

Krogan Series Part 3: Wrex, Krogan Battle Master

Urdnot Wrex is one of the last krogan Battle Masters: rare individuals who combine powerful biotic abilities with the devastating firepower of advanced weaponry. Born into clan Urdnot, he quickly gained fame for his prowess in battle. He became a leader of one of the smaller Urdnot tribes while still a youth - the youngest krogan to be granted the honor in 1000 years…until he was betrayed by his own people.

The betrayal opened Wrex's eyes to the truth about the krogan: most would rather die in battle than try to rebuild their society through peaceful means. Realizing the warrior culture that once valued courage, strength, and honor had been reduced to glorifying pointless violence, Wrex turned his back on the rest of the krogan.

Over the past three centuries he has served no master but himself, working as a bodyguard, mercenary, soldier of fortune, and bounty hunter; there is little in the galaxy that can still surprise him. He doesn't speak often, but when he does his words are direct and often shockingly blunt - and people tend to listen.

Despite his brutish appearance, Wrex rarely loses his temper. The mere threat of his anger is usually enough to get what he wants. When his fury is unleashed, however, it is a truly terrifying sight.

WEB POLL : Would you have Urdnot Wrex in your party?

Yes, I can use all the firepower I can get - 88%

No, he seems too mercenary-minded - 10%

Other - read my comments - 3%

Total votes : 16674

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TECHNOLOGY

M35 Mako

The Mako is a light infantry fighting vehicle you'll get to use when exploring planetary environments. Equipped with laser-guided ordnance, micro- thrusters, and laser detection arrays, it's an essential tool to have in your arsenal. [Read more]

Technology : M35 Mako

For 20 years, the standard "battle taxi" of the Systems Alliance Marines was the M29 "Grizzly" Infantry Fighting Vehicle (IFV). While excellent in long-term planetary campaigns, the Grizzly's bulk and weight made it unsuitable for rapid deployment across the Alliance's expanding sphere of influence. To fill this increasingly important role, the M35 "Mako" IFV was designed to fit in the small cargo bays of Alliance scouting frigates. The M35's small size and low weight allow it to be easily deployed to virtually any world.

Since Alliance marines may be required to fight in a variety of planetary environments, the Mako is environmentally sealed and powered by a hydrogen-oxygen fuel cell. For deployment on low-gravity planetoids, it is equipped with micro-thrusters and a small element zero core, which can be used to increase mass and provide greater traction.

The "eezo" core can also be used to reduce mass, allowing the Mako to be safely air-dropped. This allows frigates to deploy their shore parties while limiting the ship's exposure to defensive anti-aircraft artillery. When used in conjunction with thrusters, mass reduction allows the Mako to extricate itself from difficult terrain.

The Mako's hull is covered with laser detection arrays, which forewarn the crew of enemy laser-guided ordnance. Ground-penetrating radar allows detection of anti-vehicle mines and other subsurface anomalies. These will be brought to the attention of the crew by the vehicle's micro-frame computer system.

Several combat support vehicles using the Mako's basic chassis are manufactured for Alliance surface garrisons. These include a recon drone controller, a mobile air defense platform, and the M38 military ambulance nicknamed "Moby" because it is painted white during peacekeeping operations. Shipboard Marines exclusively use the tactically flexible and heavily armed base model.

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Normandy

Optimized for solo reconnaissance missions deep within unstable regions, and using state-of-the-art stealth technology, the Normandy is a prototype deep scout frigate. [Read more]

Technology : Normandy

Frigates are swift, flexible warships. Unlike larger vessels, they are able to land on planets. Although lightly armed, Alliance frigates usually carry a squad of marines for security and groundside duty.

The most important role filled by frigates is scouting and reconnaissance. Thanks to mass effect technology, ships and communications can travel faster than the speed of light. Sensors, however, are limited to the speed of light. If an enemy ship is a light year away, a stationary observer will only be able to see it when its light arrives in a year.

An attacker will always gain surprise against a defender; attacking ships moving faster than light will arrive long before their light speed-limited sensor data does. For defense, fleets are surrounded by spheres of scouting frigates. These vessels detect enemy ships passing by them, and transmit warnings to the main body. The Normandy is a prototype "deep scout" frigate, developed by the Systems Alliance with the assistance of the Citadel Council. It is optimized for solo reconnaissance missions deep within unstable regions, using state-of-the-art stealth technology.

For centuries, it was assumed that starship stealth was impossible. The heat generated by routine shipboard operations is easily detectable against the absolute-zero background temperature of space. The Normandy, however, is able to temporarily "store" this heat in lithium heat sinks deep within the hull. Combined with refrigeration of the exterior hull, the ship can travel undetected for hours, or drift passively for days of covert observation. This is not without risk. The stored heat must eventually be radiated, or it will build up to levels capable of cooking the crew alive.

Another component of the stealth system is the Normandy’s revolutionary Tantalus drive, a mass effect core twice the standard size. The Tantalus drive generates mass concentrations that the Normandy "falls into", allowing it to move without the use of heat-emitting thrusters. The heat sink and Tantalus drive systems allow the Normandy to loiter undetected in an enemy system to monitor traffic, or drop infiltration teams on enemy worlds. Should the Normandy’s design prove useful in field tests, it is expected that a follow-up class incorporating "lessons learned" will be produced.

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