#scattered molecules of light

[biology-geology-beaches-india]

TSRNOSS. Page 125.

[nereidprinc3ss]

i keep you clean; you surrounded me

in which husband!spencer reid spirals after realizing he can't be your daughter's hero forever.

angst, fluff warnings/tags: this fic is about spencer's past addiction, and how he's afraid it will impact his relationship with his daughter, conversation about alcohol, this is a fix-it fic for my life, ends on a hopeful/positive note, lots of self-loathing from Spencer, uses the phrase "shooting up", PLEASE do not read if this is going to upset you!! PLEASE!! fem!reader a/n: this felt healing in a way for me but that might not be your experience reading if you also have issues with a parent with addiction so please tread lightly and make the right choices for you. CHOOSE YOUR MENTAL HEALTH OVER MY DUMB FANFIC I CAN'T STRESS THAT ENOUGH!! and ily

“Daddy?”

Ada’s not asking for you, but you look to her anyway. She’s squeezed between you and Spencer on Rossi’s swing, and her cheeks are still feverish—remnants of a recent and rather hysterical fit of giggles. She has a glass of lemonade between her little hands (you’re trusting her with a big girl cup, if only because it’s not your glass or your house) and she peers into it intently. Her little grass-stained feet kick. Spencer pushes the swing back ever so slightly, for her entertainment. 

“Huh?”

She holds her glass up for him. 

“Our drinks are the same color.”

“They are,” he nods. “Do you like yellow?”

Ada shrugs. It’s exaggerated—one of her favorite moves as of late. “It’s okay.”

Spencer glances at you like he always does when he sees glimpses of you in your child, eyes sparkling as if her opinionated and bluntly honest nature is in any way reminiscent of you. 

“Yeah, I agree. Yellow is just okay.”

She leans against him and he’s quick to accommodate her, affectionately brushing his knuckles over your bare shoulder as he slings his arm across the back of the swing. 

“Daddy?”

“What, lovebug?”

You smile, letting your head fall back and your eyes close. The sun is warm on your face. 

“Mommy’s drink is red.”

Nothing gets past her. Rossi had pushed the drink into your hand almost the second you stepped through the door, insisting it would go well with lunch. It sits otherwise untouched on the glass table. 

Spencer hums. The swing rocks gently. 

“That’s because she’s not having lemonade like us. She’s having a grownup drink.”

“Oh.”

You think that’s the end of it, that she’s satisfied with the answer, until another moment passes, and her voice, sweet as the tinkle of little fairy bells, is posing a very loaded question. 

“Why don’t you ever have grownup drinks? Me and you always have the same.”

Spencer’s already looking at you, brows drawn as you sit up. Your eyes, open now, go wide, and you shake your head slightly to signal you have no idea how he’s supposed to respond either. 

His hand goes to Ada’s hair, gently scratching her scalp as his eyes dart over your face. You can see the gears turning in his head. This is one of very few things he clearly didn’t read about in any of the literature on raising kids when you were pregnant. 

“I… some people don’t like grownup drinks.”

It’s an inadequate answer, especially coming from Spencer—just this morning he explained to Ada why the sky is blue. Rayleigh scattering. Blue light scatters more than any other kind of light. Which then led to an impromptu lesson on oxygen molecules and other basic chemistry in the car on the way here. 

So there are standards. 

“Why not?”

You interrupt, unable to watch Spencer flounder any longer. “Ada, why don’t you go see what Henry and JJ and Uncle Dave are doing? That looks fun, right?”

You gesture down the yard to where JJ and Rossi are teaching Henry to play cornhole. 

She looks at you with big brown eyes—the set of them, the color—those are all Spencer.

“Can you and daddy come?”

You straighten out her dress and take the half-full glass from her little hands, setting it next to your own on the table. 

“In a minute. Go ahead.”

Spencer’s hand slips from her hair as she pushes off the swing and bounds down the yard. You make sure she arrives to her destination without incident, before scooting closer to your husband and taking his vacant hand. 

“Spence?” You ask quietly, leaning in to try and insert yourself into his eye line. He doesn’t look away from Ada. 

“That was bad.”

“It wasn’t. She doesn’t understand. It’s fine.”

“I didn’t—”

He looks down, lips pressed together, and your heart twists and drops like overripe fruit from the vine as you realize his eyes have glossed over. 

“Baby,” you whisper, relinquishing his hand only so you can rub his back. Your other finds his knee, drawing as close as you possibly can. “It’s okay.”

“How am I supposed to explain it to her?”

A tear falls, making a dark splotch on the fabric of his pants. 

“You don’t have to. She’s only five. I guarantee she’s already forgotten all about it.”

“I will. I’ll have to tell her one day. She thinks I’m perfect, how am I supposed to—”

He stops himself, voice tightening to a halt. You watch him hold back a cry like you haven’t seen in years. It’s an old, familiar ache for you. You can’t imagine how it feels for him. 

“Spencer,” you coo. “She adores you. She loves you so much. That’s never going to change.”

His nose twitches. 

“I’m going to disappoint her.”

“How? How are you going to disappoint her?”

“I think it’s pretty disappointing to find out your dad is a junkie.”

His tone isn’t particularly harsh but the words are like a slap anyway. 

“Spencer…” For a moment you don’t know what else to say. It’s not a secret that he’s ashamed of that chapter in his life, but you had no idea he was contending with this much self-loathing over it, even after all this time. It seems like such a distant point in the rearview mirror that the two of you almost never need to talk about it anymore. “You are not a junkie. It’s been, what—a decade?”

“I don’t want to have to tell her what drugs are, let alone that I... she thinks I’m the smartest guy in the world, and one day I’ll have to tell her that drugs are extremely dangerous, and I was shooting up for four months anyway. No matter how I try to explain it to her the ultimate takeaway is going to be that I’m weak and I wasn’t smart enough and she’s never, ever going to forget that. How am I supposed to—I can’t be a role model for her. I fucked up so badly.”

Your chest aches, somewhere deep and hollow, as he leans forward, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, only for a moment—before Ada shrieks and his head snaps back up. Henry is chasing her with a worm. Spencer watches on, tears still leaking from his eyes and expression otherwise neutral. It’s bittersweet to hear him express such deep insecurity about the thing he’s best at in the world, even as those parental instincts kick in and he’s setting aside his own feelings to keep an eye on her. He’s never trusted himself. He’s never seen himself the way you do. 

“Baby, you are her dad and she loves you. Her love for you is not contingent on your past. You are so, so good to her. That’s all she knows, okay? She doesn’t care what you were doing when you were 25. She cares about whether you’ll be home for dinner, and if you’ll play dolls with her, and if you’ll tuck her in. That’s all she needs to love you.”

JJ wrangles the kids and after a moment Spencer looks down again, brow furrowed deeply as drops like rain dot his lap, but he hardly makes a sound. You lay your cheek on his shoulder. “And until she’s old enough for the whole story, which involves a lot more violence than I am comfortable with her being subjected to right now, you don’t need to explain it to her. You have time.”

“She wants to know now.”

“She also wants icecream for every meal. But I can’t make her understand why that’s a bad idea. What she wants and what she needs and what she is capable of understanding are all different categories. I know you love answering all her questions, and you’re a really good teacher, but you can’t make her understand something as complex as addiction.”

Spencer sniffs. 

“Developmentally she’s only really capable of understanding the world as it exists in relation to herself.”

“Exactly. So give her some time, and give yourself some time.”

“What if she asks again?”

“Then… you say you don’t like how it makes you feel. And tell her to clean up her toys. Condition her to stop asking.”

Spencer stumbles over a teary laugh he hadn’t been expecting. You sit up straight, holding his face between your hands and encouraging him to look at you. His cheeks shine with tears, but you wipe them away tenderly. 

“You’re perfect to her,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to one cheek, “and you’re perfect to me.” He cups your elbow as you kiss the other and looks at you with so much sheer adoration you could get all choked up, too.

“Wow,” he sniffles, and takes a deep breath, pulling you into him, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do,” you mumble into his shirt, eyes fluttering shut as he presses three kisses to the curve of your neck where he’s buried his face. 

“I could be canonized as a saint and not deserve you.”

Sainthood. You ponder that. 

Saints have to live virtuously. They also have to be dead. 

You hold him a little tighter. You like him exactly how he is: technically imperfect. Probably not getting into heaven. Still venerable. Very much heroic. Alive, and with you.

“I’m really glad you’re not a saint.”

He chuckles. His hand slides up your back, and then side to side—a path it’s made time and time again which has only ever led you to wonderful, perfect places.

“Me too.”

[ckret2]

Will Bill ever have control over his pyrokinesis again or is it only something he can do in his triangle form?

He could do it right now if he wanted. Unfortunately, he's pretty sure it would melt his eyeball and possibly his brain.

This is only gonna be made clear in fic when I edit earlier chapters for TBOB-compatibility, because I didn't come up with this headcanon until after TBOB, but: I headcanon that Bill's "pyrokinesis" is just him using his eyeball like a lens to focus sunlight (or other bright lights) on a point—like using a magnifying glass to start a fire. (I have him do just that at the end of chapter 6.) His eye's already strange enough, it might as well do this.

Since nobody around him knew that there was a big sun shining down on Euclydia or that Bill was focusing it into a deadly laser, it just looked like he was starting fires with his brain. Hence why it got called "pyrokinesis." (The same way his ability to see through walls is called a "psychic" ability even though he's not doing anything mystical, he's just... looking over the walls.)

Consider the implications of a sun shining down on the second dimension. It means that, 100% of the time, Bill's species is getting fucking BLASTED with UV rays. Every last molecule in their bodies is getting SOAKED, inside and out, all the time, with pure undiluted deadly sunlight. They have NO atmosphere between them and the sun to scatter any of that solar radiation. They can't even close their eyes to block out the sunlight, because their eyelids are on the front of their faces, and the sun is above them.

The sun was shining straight into Bill's eye 24/7, sleeping and waking, since the moment his eyeball first developed in his mom's womb (or in his eggshell or however the heck Euclidean babies are made), before he was even born. He knew sunshine and starlight before he knew anything else.

So I have to assume that Euclidean bodies evolved to handle constant unfiltered sunlight every moment every day. So Bill's eye is naturally durable enough to act as a lens focusing sunlight into a laser.

But human bodies didn't evolve to handle constant unfiltered sunlight! Human bodies get sunburns and skin cancer! If we stare at the sun, our eyes hurt in like, 3 seconds!

In a human body, Bill still knows how to aim his eye just right to focus sunlight and start a fire. But he doubts his human eyeball would survive the process, and since he only has two of them, he's decided not to fuck around and find out.

[apod]

2024 October 31

Rigel and the Witch Head Nebula Image Credit & Copyright: Simone Curzi

Explanation: By starlight, this eerie visage shines in the dark with a crooked profile evoking its popular name, the Witch Head Nebula. In fact, this entrancing telescopic portrait gives the impression that a witch has fixed her gaze on Orion's bright supergiant star Rigel. More formally known as IC 2118, the Witch Head Nebula spans about 50 light-years and is composed of interstellar dust grains reflecting Rigel's starlight. The color of the Witch Head Nebula is caused not only by Rigel's intense blue light, but because the dust grains scatter blue light more efficiently than red. The same physical process causes Earth's daytime sky to appear blue, although the scatterers in Earth's atmosphere are molecules of nitrogen and oxygen. Rigel and this dusty cosmic crone are about 800 light-years away. You may still see a few witches in your neighborhood tonight though, so have a safe and Happy Halloween!

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap241031.html

[sheerfreesia007]

Catching Snowflakes On Our Tongues

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Word count: 736

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Hyunjin wanted to do a photoshoot in the freshly fallen snow, who are you to deny him? But what happens when it starts snowing again while you’re out and you can’t hold back your quirky knowledge about snowflakes?

The soft shutter of the camera caught your attention and you turned to smile warmly at Hyunjin. He had called you this morning asking if you wanted to go out and do a photoshoot with him in the snow. It had snowed the night before and covered everything in a blanket of white which according to Hyunjin was the perfect backdrop for a photoshoot.

Eagerly agreeing to join him you had made sure to dress warmly enough before heading out to meet him at your local hang out by the Han river. As the two of you walked along the river Hyunjin would snap pictures of your surroundings lining it up perfect in his view finder before clicking the camera shutter.

You watched as he focused his camera lense on the river before taking another photo and couldn’t help but admire his concentration and his eye for pretty pictures. He’s leaning over the railing as his camera covers his face and he focuses on something across the river before snapping another picture.

Suddenly you spot a lone snowflake on his black jacket and you quickly whip your phone out and snap a close up picture of it. Hyunjin looks over at you with a furrowed brow before his eyes spot the snowflake as well. You grin at him before looking up at the sky to see that more snow is starting to fall. The sound of his camera shutter pulls your attention back to him and find him aiming his camera at you before lowering it with a bashful smile.

”You’re pretty when you watch the snow falling.” He excuses himself and you beam at him as a blush creeps up your face.

“I can’t help it. I love snowflakes.” You tell him honestly and he tilts his head at you quietly. “Did you know that all snowflakes have six sides because the hydrogen and oxygen molecules in the ice crystals for a hexagonal structure?” You ask him and he shakes his head no as he stares at you with wide eyes for a moment before a bright smile slips onto his face.

”Tell me more.” He says as you begin to walk further along the river staring up at the snowflakes falling with him following you.

”The smallest snowflakes are as small as a human hair and are called diamond dust crystals. And the largest snowflake ever recorded was thirty-eight centimeters in diameter!” You tell him excitedly as you look back up to the sky before opening up your mouth and letting your tongue loll out to try and catch some of the snowflakes. Hyunjin laughs softly at you before he does the same by tilting his head up towards the sky and letting his tongue out to catch some snowflakes as well.

”Tell me another snowflake fact.” He demands and you laugh at him before lowering your head and holding out your hands for the snowflakes to fall onto your mittens so that you can see them.

”Snowflakes are translucent. Reflecting light rather than passing it through. The light scatter in so many directions that it can’t be absorbed or reflected consistently, which makes them appear white.” You tell him and he silently watches you with his grin widening as he snaps a few more pictures of your enjoying the snow fall.

The two of you continue down the river some more before you begin to shiver from the cold air. Hyunjin wraps an arm around your shoulders and begins guiding you back towards your car so that the two of you can head back to your apartment to warm up. Just as you’re coming up to the parking lot where you parked your car he looks down at you with a fond smile on his face. 

“How about one more fact before we get out of here?” He asks softly and you grin up at him.

”At least one septillion snowflakes fall from the sky every year.” You tell him softly and his eyes soften as they stare down at you. You’re surprised when he ducks down and presses a soft kiss to your rosy cheek.

”I love that you have all this knowledge about snowflakes and want to share it with me.” He says softly to you after he pulls away and stares into your eyes. “It’s cute.” He admits and you blush prettily for him causing him to grin even wider.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids,

@hityoulikebahng

[shoezuki]

There was never a point where Qlipoth was not. No moment of sudden existence, no prelude to His divinity nor a point where matter gathered into Aeonhood. He always Was, and always will Be.

He does not know when life burst into existence or what started it. The specks of life were far beneath His awareness, growing and evolving and developing within the blinks of eons that passed by Qlipoth's notice. Maybe life was always there, maybe it grew from the shattered atoms of the Leviathans Qlipoth smashed to pieces as they krept out of the Nothing behind the foundations of His Wall. Whatever it was, wherever mortal life came from, He was oblivious to it.

It was once life developed to the point of sentience, to feeling, that Aha popped into existence. Qlipoth would spend the rest of His existence wishing he'd been aware of life, so maybe He could squish it out before Aha could become the longest lasting thorn in Qlipoth's side.

Aha was a molecular flash of light, a pop of noise sudden and so small Qlipoth shouldn't have even noticed it. But He did, suddenly so hyperaware of the atomic presence that suddenly manifested in the cosmos with Him. It stilled His hammer, made Him turn a few rare degrees away from His Wall, and lurch forward at the small being of air and light and noise.

Aha couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't grasp much of anything. Its form was incomplete, shaky and made up of the barely existing thoughts and feelings of sentient creatures that Qlipoth didn't know existed until this very moment. It could move, barely, flickering between atoms as a divine electron.

It couldn't speak. But it could laugh. It cackled, shrill vibrating sounds that echoed between dark matter and the empty space of the universe. It laughed, and laughed and laughed until it's laughter became it's name-- mere seconds right before Qlipoth swung His hammer and dissolved the Aeon into nothing.

Qlipoth settled back into His isolation and went back to building the Wall.

That should have been it. The molecular Aeon should have ceased to exist.

Mortal life evolved further, from shivering molecules to singular cells, to multicellular organisms and shimmering, immaterial beings of sensations. Qlipoth noted it a bit more now, more out of concern for His Wall or any other strange beings that will crop up, but nothing more.

Aha's burst into existence was bigger, more prevalant, just as sudden and overwhelming to Qlipoth's infinite senses as before. He never noticed the fragments of Aha, scattered between atoms, nor how they suddenly snapped altogether once more into a being more developed than before. Aha had a form now, mismatched swirls of varying limbs and claws and tentacles much like the immature physical forms of the mortal life Aha spawned from. Aha was made up of colours that didn't exist yet, sounds that had no place in Qlipoth's quiet galaxies.

The new Aeon was just as small to Qlipoth, but was still so much more than the first time it popped up those thousands of years ago. It instantly started to laugh, but it couldn't do much more than that, it's attempts at speech cheery garbled nonexistent words.

For the first time in Qlipoth's endless existence, He felt something, an emotion breaching the divinity -- annoyance.

Aha cackled and tried to speak up at Him, undulating limbs vibrating and thrown around in something like cheer. Qlipoth's reaction was near instant, a pivot from His Wall and a swing of His hammer. But Aha knew better then, no doubt remembering the scattering of it's being as it zipped across the universe and narrowly avoided being dissolved once more. Aha gigglees in a way that shakes stars and Qlipoth simmered with new feelings that burned across His gargantuan form. The miniscule Aeons gargled non-speech tempted Him to strike again, but Qlipoth just barely resisted and returned to His Wall.

Aha hovered around Qlipoth for an indescribable amount of time. It challenged Him, toeing closer and closer to the Wall, seeing how close it could get before Qlipoth snapped and swung at it. Sometimes Aha gets scattered again, not dodging quick enough, only taking a few centuries to reform, only for Aha to return to testing Qlipoth's patience. It's only fitting that the very first game is entirely built on bothering the much larger Aeon.

Annoyance, frustration, and rage were all becoming familiar feelings to Qlipoth. It's all fixated on Aha, the sole fixation of His emotions. The cause of it, Qlipoth eventually realized; when Aha is scattered or it's flickering attention pulled elsewhere, Qlipoth's entire existence returned to the unfeeling need to protect, to build, to close off the universe from the Nothing. The moments and decades between the Elation being shattered and reforming feel like intermissions, waiting for Aha to return.

Qlipoth at some point realized He welcomed the strange, small Aeon and the range of feeling it instilled in Him. Qlipoth stopped shattering the Aeon so much, only when Aha decided to be truly bothersome and started picking away at the Wall. It seems like the other Aeon can't be destroyed anyways, and maybe He doesn't always want it gone anymore.

There's other Aeons. They creep into existence, ascending to divinity. Qlipoth paid them no mind, not caring where or when or how they begin. Long seemed to simply always exist, perhaps having been outside of Qlipoth's notice this whole time. HooH appeared a few times to judge the Wall, their twin gazes seeming to find the structure satisfactory every time they appeared while Qlipoth continued to build unbothered. The Voracity is pummeled and nearly destroyed when they consume a segment of the Wall, Qlipoth leaving them to scamper back into the Nothing and lick their wounds. Oroboros lays low for centuries after that but does not tempt Qlipoth's ire again.

Qlipoth wouldn't care much about them, wouldn't know anything about the other Aeons or anything kept within His Wall really, if Aha wasn't constantly blabbering to Him.

"Aha likes this Trailblaze guy," it hummed, sitting on empty space up by Qlipoth's shoulder, kicking it's legs back and forth. Aha is larger now, no longer a molecule in comparison to His size but more of a pebble, a bug. It's form is made up of strange manmade objects, grinning masks and musical instruments and toys and ribbons. "They're funny! And much less standoffish than you are, you hunk of rocks."

Aha giggled at Qlipoth's rumbling reply, the sound of tectonic plates shifting and meteors crackling apart. Aha's voice was a symphony of many, hundreds of different tones and words spoken in hundreds of different accents and languages. Verbal speech isn't necessary, something Qlipoth always made abundantly clear in His otherworldly responses. Aha never listened, just laughed Qlipoth off and waved one of many gloved hands. It always was one for theatrics.

"Hey! It's not Aha's fault your a stick in the mud." There was the sound of a slow landslide, debris and gravel scraping over a slanted rockface. "It means you're boring, old, and not cool at all. Which you aren't! At least Akivili knows how to cut loose. They got some big ideas, something about trains and space faring or whatever. Aha is excited to see where that goes!"

A harsh sound of stone snapping, and Aha paused, leaning forward and holding up their grinning mask face with a twitching hand. Qlipoth refused to acknowledge them. "If Aha wanted to hang out with Akivili, it would be with them now." His grumble was a slow collision of planets. "My dear Qlipoth, are you jealous?"

Qlipoth didn't respond, which was definitely the worst choice He'd made. Aha giggled, then snorted, then cackled and vibrated as it shifted the surrounding stars around it's glee. Aha finally settled down and controlled itself after a few years, sitting down on Qlipoth's shoulder with a sigh. Qlipoth halfhearted swatted at the other Aeon, who dodged effortlessly after eons of practice.

"Ahhh, that's funny. You're funny sometimes, y'know that?" Aha exhaled, wiping at diamond tears from its eyes. "Aha takes back the 'stick in the mud' thing. Really, though, you're a good friend." A hummed sound of a mountain forming, earth's crust cracking. "It means Aha likes being around you and likes your company. It's a mortal concept-- Aha knows, it knows! That's very below you, oh majestic Amber Lord you, but. Aha likes it."

There was silence. Qlipoth, as always, had nothing to say, but Aha's lack of constant stammering and babbling is notable. It was almost a bit unnerving, until Aha sucked in a sharp, unnecessary breath. "Aaaaaanyways, what was Aha saying? Oh! Yeah, Akivili is interesting, but this other guy-- the Propagation? They've got a name but it's way too long and boring-- is kinda concerning. They are just gross and they have no personality! Seriously, they're becoming a bit of a problem. Just a massive bug hivemind... Aha tried talkin' to some of them, but they don't understand Aha's jokes. No class, I say. Oh, and Aha hasn't seen HooH in a while, because they tried to organize Aha into two categories last time. Aha blew up a planet of their worshippers after that but they didn't care. Hey, have you seen Oroboros around anywhere? Aha has been wondering what would happen if they try and swallow Aha, but..."

Qlipoth didn't like how Ena the Order looked at Aha.

Aha was a force of chaos, as unpredictable and uncontained as the growing mortal populations the Elation seems to love so dearly. It ran around the vast universe constantly, always on the move and causing problems. Aha returned to Qlipoth fairly regularly but still sparodically, sometimes centuries between visits at the Wall, and sometimes thousands of years before it returned to pester Him. Regardless, Aha always brought emotions back to Qlipoth's awareness, the capacities for frustration, annoyance, interest, irritation, and maybe contentment. Aha brought first hand accounts of the chaos it caused, too; planets destroyed or warped into strange shapes, galaxies rearranged so that their gravity sang a sweeter tune, populations of sentient creatures made to dance and weep and scream. Aha tipped the universe out of balance, danced on the edge of the Nothing and along all other Paths, all for entertainment.

Qlipoth did not like how Ena watched the Elation. Qlipoth did not watch any other Aeon like He did Ena; the Order crossed Paths with the Elation often, tidying up Aha's messes and rearranging the chaos Aha created. Even the kinder things Aha did, planets moved to spin at a calmer rate and starforms turned beautiful arrays of colour, were all fixed with Ena's mechanical, methodical hands.

Ena looked at Aha's uncertainty and rampant emotional chaos like She wanted to solve it, fix it, be rid of it.

The Propagation was expanding outside of Qlipoth's notice, His knowledge of it only due to Aha's complaining. Ena confronted him with a proposition, a deal. Spoken in vibrations, constant tones. The Propagation needed to be exterminated. Qlipoth did not care.

The Propagation was killing thousands of mortals, was overtaking the universe. Qlipoth gathered and spawned more minerals for the Wall. The Propagation could kill Aha, the Elation, along with the universe. The mention of Aha sparked enough sentience to make Qlipoth rumble with a mockery of a laugh.

Ena's hands crackled, porcelain and gold joints crackling. Ena's eye swirled and landed on Qlipoth, fierce with threat. Qlipoth finally paused and looked at the other Aeon, and accepted the proposition.

The Order is absorbed before Qlipoth confronts Tayzzyronth, Xipe the Harmony overcoming Order and standing alongside the Aeons as Qlipoth fractures the Propagation with His hammer. Aha watched with interest, cheering and screaming and celebrating far too loudly as Qlipoth seals the remnants of Tayzzyronth in amber. Xipe watched Aha's pluming sparkles and confetti, his raoucous chaos and disorder, and their giggle sounds like a symphony.

Qlipoth found himself content with Xipe. Ena held up Her side of the deal well.

Aha started adding to the Wall.

At first it was to annoy Qlipoth, grabbing meteors and debris and strange starforms and shoving them into the Wall without care. But the first time made Him vibrate and rumble with approval, sounding of the pop of plants rising from earth and stones being weathered down smooth. That had made Aha freeze deadly still more than any annoyed retort or swing of His hammer had before, made the Elation stare at Him strangely. Being met with even Qlipoth's stony gratitude rather than being the brunt of frustration seemed to make Aha glitch.

Aha, of course, proceeded to plunge it's hands into the Wall and rearrange the physical matter, not even bothering to run when Qlipoth slammed His hammer down on the Aeon. Aha's particles shattered against the Wall.

Aha reformed some time later, cursing Qlipoth out in every language possible, but Aha kept adding to the Wall. It was always strange, unnecessary things; sparkling gems, debris from shipwrecks, the fossilized remains of extinct animals, manmade creations that stuck out awkwardly. Aha shifted the Wall and created statues in the Elation's likeness, hundreds of thousands of Aha figures jutting from the Wall. But it never broke the Wall or interferred with its integrity every again. Aha's additions to the Wall barely made a difference, were barely noticeable. But Qlipoth found Himself humming with contentment each time Aha added another knicknack to it.

Qlipoth watched on as Aha waltzed along the Wall, nearly tripping into the Nothing as it danced and sang, recreated plays and theatre performances it stole from humans. Qlipoth could only feel when Aha was around, but it had taken Him until those moments to really feel some appreciation for a Path other than His own.

Other Aeons came into existence.

Yaoshi sprung to life from twisted plantmatter, intertwining into something greater. Aha first found interest in this, then grew bored of the single-minded desire to grow for the sake of growth itself. "You'd think growing and eternal life and all that would lead to more fun," Aha once lamented, "but Yaoshi makes those mortals so... dull. They become numb and wither away. Where's the fun in that?"

Lan rose in response to Yaoshi, a being of pure rage and a thirst for blood. Aha poked and prodded and mocked until arrows rained across the cosmos, green strikes of lightning briming with rage as Aha laughed and danced around them. Sometimes he hid behind Qlipoth who never even flinched as the arrows striked His back, and rarely did Lan hit his mark. Nous made Aha uncomfortable in contrast, but intrigued him in a strange way. "That bucket of metal wants to dissect Aha," the Elation would shiver, faces crying in exagerated unison, "wants to pin Aha to a board in her library. You should kill Nous." Aha wept further at the sound of stars crumbling with Qlipoth's refusal.

Qlipoth had turned towards Nanook when Aha regaled tales of being threatened, but thankfully found that the Destruction was unimpressed with the smallest Aeon, easily fooled by Aha's childishness. Fuli showed clear disdain for Aha as it stole human memories for itself, but unlike Ena at least they showed enough restraint to ignore Aha.

IX was a challenge to the Elation. Mythus was hilarious, and Terminus couldn't take a joke.

Aeons fell, too.

Idrila ceased to be and Aha quickly masqueraded as the Beauty, sending Knights of Beauty and wild journeys. Long fragmented eons ago, outside of Qlipoth's notice.

The arrows Lan sent racing towards Aha rarely hit their mark, but sometimes they did. Piercing rays of rage, hot-white anger would send Aha scattering in a burst of laughter. Aha would always, always reform.

Aha had always had an interest in mortals. In the smaller aspects of the universe. So often when rambling to Qlipoth it spoke of legions of starhopping amphibians, movies or plays it'd plucked from mortal memory and kept to itself, the overly intricate ships humans made to traverse galaxies, the strange games and music and drinks they created through their small existences.

"Have you ever left this Wall, Qlipoth?" Aha once asked, placing jewelry and gems on the Wall, "ever even like, turned around and looked at what you're preserving?" There's an echo of thunder, of earthquakes settling. "Yes yes, Aha gets it! It's all beneath you, it doesn't matter, blah blah. You old bastard."

There was a stitled moment of silence, save for Aha's constant humming, before it whined again. "But, really! You Aeons are all so high and mighty and stuck up sometimes. Have you ever even tried to eat some food? Like, something those mortals cooked up? Wait. Do you even have a mouth."

Qlipoth's minerals clattered against each other in response. Aha huffed, crossed it's dozens of arms, masks swirling upside down. "... Y'know, Akivili hangs out with mortals. And Akivili has a mouth."

He didn't respond, but the next swing of His hammer crushed a fleet of surveying IPC ships. Aha applauded.

"Aha made a puppet," the Elation reported to Qlipoth much, much later. It had been an extensive amount of time since Aha visited Him last, but Qlipoth would never let Aha know he kept track. "Aha put the puppet on one of Akivili's Astral Expresses. It was a lot of fun, but it wasn't Aha. So Aha blew it up! You should've seen Akivili's face!" Aha cackled, kicking it's feet and tumbling far too close into the Nothing. The Elation didn't even seem to notice how Qlipoth pulled it back behind His Wall, too busy rejoicing in what it did.

Akivili fell not long after.

When Aha visited next, Qlipoth didn't need to say a thing to have the other Aeon huffing, it's hackles raising and millions of bells furiously ringing. "Aha had nothing to do with that, you heap of rocks! To accuse your dearest friend, Aha, of that! For shame." Qlipoth's garguantuan body grinds against itself as He tilts his head, riling it up further. "Don't give Aha that bullshit! You were thinking it! Aha could hear the thought clattering 'round that pebble mind of yours. Really, it blows up one Astral Express and suddenly Aha is the Akivili killer. Ridiculous!"

Qlipoth just tuned out Aha's rambling, turning back to the wall and not noticing when Aha enters an unsettling silence.

Something changed in Aha ever since its stint on the Express.

Aha had always been a being of pure energy, flighty and erratic as it sought out thrills across the universe. Even the moments it spent on Qlipoth's Wall were full of energy, rambling about nothing and bouncing atop and across the Wall.

But the Elation had become quiet. It's journeys and chaotic jokes across the galaxies never stilled, but it became quiet in His shadow. There wasn't any rambling gossip, complaints about the other 'stuck up' Aeons or stories of the Elation Aha had created. It became pensive, a pensiveness overtaking it's constantly anxious energy. It was strange, and uncanny. Qlipoth found Aha's restless melancholy contagious. Qlipoth tried not to wonder, not to care.

"Aha has decided," Aha hummed out a single note, a voice of low cords, "to make itself mortal."

Aha was always reckless and idiotic, never one to think anything through. It's actions were always spur of the moments, never planned or deliberated over. It had never told Qlipoth what it wanted to do before. This wasn't the Aeon asking for advice let alone permission, more like it musing aloud, but Qlipoth still responded.

The sound of planets colliding, the slow and agonizing growth of the edge the universe. Stars crackling and burning themselves into extinction, intercepting galaxies leaving only destruction. Qlipoth's disgust and disapproval made the Nothing quiver. Aha was unaffected.

"Aha talked to Nous," it continued, laying back on one of the many meteors that make up His body. The Elation felt like a smoldering jubilation against His rocky surface. "She said it's impossible and got way too interesting, but Aha is gonna do it anyways."

There's never a point in arguing with Aha, not that Qlipoth ever bothered to before. He doesn't then either, doesn't say anything as Aha zips away without a word, leaving sounds of soft revelry in its wake.

Qlipoth found what remained of Aha later. Aha never returned after that last visit, and all that was left of it was butchered remains, the Elation flayed and left in scattered limbs and objects beside the Nothing. Whatever was left of Aha wasn't there, not among it's still living dismembered corpse.

The remains of Aha wasn't enough to spark any feeling in Qlipoth. As He built the Wall He only paused a moment with recognition, no feelings of melancholy, rage, annoyance. Qlipoth did not care.

But, as the eternally growing Wall approached the remains of Aha, Qlipoth moved it, shifted the Celestial Wall to encase Aha, wrapping around it in a cocoon of amber.

[marleyybluu]

Oh sista you ate baaaaad with Don Julio even tho we all know none of us needed liquor help when it comes to that man, I am wide open sober papacito ya tú sabes 🥵🤤

Don Julio 2

Best friends brother!Rio x f!black!OC (Honey)

Word count: 3.5k

Content Warning: 18+, smut under your fingernails, p in v, creampie (bcus I have a serious problem atp), two dummies who think no one notices they’re into each other, a bit of flirting, oral (f receiving), we are in missionary today, Rio wears rings 🙃 :)

Lmk if I’m missing any idk I probably am

A/N: surprise, the Rio girlies get fed even though I don’t like this, some parts suck in my opinion but I hate everything I write so what’s new. Not proofread sorry

Suddenly she was so... aware of him, of every molecule and particle that created his form.  Now, she notices his hands and the copious amount of rings he wore, how large and wide his palms were and how slender and long his fingers suddenly seemed. She took a swig from her can of Twisted Tea as she sat around one of the tables in their family's backyard. She didn't want to be here, it was too weird for her, but it was his birthday party. She'd been to all of his parties since they were kids and she figured the lack of her presence would be obvious.

She kept her distance though, only saying 'Happy birthday' and 'Here's your gift' when she arrived about two hours ago and hadn't said anything else to him since. But she couldn't keep her eyes off of him, the fantasies of what could've possibly happened that night haunt he in a pleasant way, but she just adored him from afar. Paying extra attention to whom he was talking to.

Vera.

She's a beautiful woman, Honey could give her that, she is probably the same age as him too. She'd been around the neighbourhood long ago but moved and would once in a while return home to visit. She raised her eyebrows, her eyes narrow as she attempted to read Vera's lips to know what they were discussing but she couldn't make out anything, this weird pang in her chest— possibly a smidge of jealousy, was an unnecessary and stupid feeling. She sighs and shifts her eyes to Cherry who had seemingly been watching her the whole time. Honey smiles innocently as if she hadn't just been ogling her brother for ten minutes. Cherry nods to the house, letting Honey know to meet her inside.

Honey excused herself from the table and waltzed her way in through the back door that led straight into their big kitchen, a few family members-- mostly men, were inside the living room watching football. Cherry cleared her throat, her way of announcing she was in the room. Honey spun on her heels and beamed. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I just need help bringing some more drinks out."

She shrugs and they both head down to the basement and to the wall where various boxes of liquor, both strong and light, were propped up. She reaches for the Corona's and the Smirnoff's able to hold one of each. "Can you believe Vera's here? I swear that woman gets prettier with age." Cherry states and there's that kink in her chest again. Honey nods, afraid that if she mutters anything she'll give away the jealousy but her friend continues with; "I wonder if they've been hooking up." She reaches for more Twisted Teas and two boxes of White Claw's mostly for her consumption. Honey swallows and looks at her shoes. "What makes you think that?"

She smirks. "I went into his room, just to steal one of his sweaters, and I saw something pink under his bed,"

Oh god.

"I didn't touch it but I'm assuming they were some panties."

One of the boxes slipped from Honey's hands and crashed to the floor, it popped open and all the cans of Twisted Tea rolled in their own directions. Cherry chuckled. "Are you good?"

"Yeah... yeah, I just— sorry." She stammered, she squats down to pick up those that fell in front of her while her friend grabbed the scattered ones. "Here, take this box and I'll hold some of the cans." She says and they switch. Honey feels like she can't even look her friend in the eye, her cheeks feeling warm and if she was any lighter she'd be as red as a stoplight. They head back upstairs where they meet the birthday boy in the kitchen with his head in the fridge. "What do you want now?" Cherry asks with fake annoyance. He pops up and straightens his posture just like he did when he was younger getting caught doing something bad. "Came lookin' for some more drinks." He says pointing to the boxes, his eyes locked with Honey's and she swore she lost her balance for a split second.

Her face only getting hotter, he was a continuous reminder of that Sunday morning. Cherry raised her eyebrows as her eyes played ping-pong between the two, the silence was awkward and making her uncomfortable. She'd never seen the two be this strange. She dropped the cans and the box of drinks onto the counter, hard enough that the sound would snap the two out of whatever unearthly trance this was. Honey and Rio broke their staring contest, eyes bouncing off in different directions. He helped the two put the drinks in the cooler, he had a spliff tucked behind his ear, and he took it down offering it to his sister. She dismisses him and says she has to find their father, so she leaves the two alone, Rio puts the spliff between his lips and cups the free end with his hand, with his other hand he flicks the lighter and the small flame transfers over to the paper, burning it along with the kush.

Honey just watches him from the corner of her eye when he looks up she darts her eyes forward and begins to sway from side to side. He looks over at her. "Still don't smoke?"

"I do," She lied. "Occasionally." She didn't know why she fibbed, she just did. He chuckles calling her bluff and in some strange urge to prove to her friends older that she is mature enough to smoke, she takes it from him and inhales, she holds it and chokes once before coughing embarrassingly loud. He chuckles and takes the spliff from her, he pats her back but it is no help as she continuously coughs. Now it's becoming concerning. He puts the (still) lit spliff behind his ear and ushers her back inside in hopes of getting her some water.

"I-I'm fine, I sw- cough- I swear."

"Yeah fucking right, mama." He coos grabbing her a bottle from the fridge making sure he opens it for her before handing it to her. Honey tips her head back as she downs the bottle in desperate relief. She comes up for air and sighs with contentment. "Better?" He asks.

"Mhm." She nods and suddenly realizes they're both alone. In the house. In the kitchen. Honey clears her throat and opens her palm, a silent way of asking for the cap. He hands it to her and their fingers brush for a moment, she savours it, a shot of electricity running through her veins. He finds himself blushing and quickly retracts his hand, though he'd give anything to touch her soft skin again. "Thanks." She mutters. "Yeah."

There's that awkward silence and neither of them knows what to do. "Your fault anyway." She says under her breath with quick wit. "You're the one who knows you don't smoke. Why take it?"

"Why offer it to me?" She giggles, he takes it from behind his ear again and inhales as he lets her question sit in the air. He shrugs and blows the thin smoke away from her face. "Didn't think you'd take it."

Honey rolls her eyes. "You've always been like that." He responds. "Like what?" She asks. He shrugs and takes another drag. "What?" She repeats and he continues to serve her with silence. "Well, you've always been an asshole." Honey spits back, now it's his turn to roll his eyes. "Always been like that." She says mocking his words from earlier. They look at each other as the awkward silence becomes less so, it bleeds into a comfortable feeling with each other. Rio's eye quickly falls to her lips and back up to her and she catches it. She witnesses his want for her, dare she say it's a need. And between the head buzz of both kush and liquor his mask was faltering, the longer she stared the softer his features became for her.

"I need you to kiss me..." She whispers and trails off, the statement taking the both of them by surprise, he'd ask for reassurance but the slight desperation in her voice and the positiveness in her face were more than enough. Rio doesn't hesitate. He kisses her like his life depends on it and maybe it did. His hands cup her cheeks drawing her closer to him. Their bodies pressed against each other and the kiss quickly rose from slow and sweet to hot and steamy. She slides her hands under his shirt, her fingers dance along the warm skin of his smooth back. He licks her bottom lip as a response and she gladly invites him in. Honey feels herself stumbling back as their tongues fight in the name of lust, she finally hits the counter and is hoisted on top of it.

"Wait..." She mumbled but it fell on deaf ears as his lips met hers again, she moaned into the kiss and gently pushed him back. "Someone's gonna see us." She laughs breathlessly. It was a miracle no one did already. He wraps her legs around him and lifts her off the counter. "You sure about this?"

She nods and he carries her up the stairs while making sure the coast is clear. He takes her to his bedroom, the place where it all started, and closes the door and locks it. "How long do you think it'll be before anyone notices you gone?"

"Who would notice?"

She playfully flicks him against his temple. "You are the birthday boy remember?"

"Worry about it later." He huffed and before she could get another word out he shut her up with another kiss. His hands shift her dress up around her hips, the cold air of his room creates prickles against her mahogany skin. He rests her down on the bed, her back contacting the very soft comforter and the memorable mattress. The best damn sleep she ever had was on that thing. His lips travel to her jawline and along the side of her neck. She turns her head giving him more access to her sweet spot he so seemingly remembers.

Her toes curl at the teasing, the anticipation, for once she wanted to skip foreplay and just go straight to it. Her eyes flutter as he sucks on her supple skin in hopes he'd leave a mark, another thing to spark her memory of him. Honey softly moans when his fingertips play with the strings of her thong, pulling them down and exposing her wet and needy pussy. She gasps at the friction from the band of his boxers rubbing against her swelling clit. Her eyes wander the room and land on his doorknob, she squints and giggles. "What?"

"Are... are those my panties hanging from your door?" She snorts. He quickly turns his head and blushes. "Maybe."

"You want these too?"

"Don't tempt me." He says before attaching his lips to her neck once again. She lightly scratches at his back. and whines as her aching hole clenches around nothing. He finally undoes his jeans, and the sound of his belt hitting the floor only adds to the tension, she almost whimpers when his shirt is next to go and his body is on display for her and her only. Rio's hands waste no time caressing the back of her legs as he pushes them back, his eyes so fixated on her swollen sex, he places his thumb on top of her clit and rubs slow circles on her sensitive nub. She sighs with pleasure as her eyes close, his thumb soon trails down her slit collecting her slick.

His middle and ring fingers follow the same path before they find their way inside her. "Oh." Honey mewled as they planted themselves deeper, her eyes slowly rolled to the back of her skull when he started playing with her pussy. He pushed his fingers in and took them out at a languid pace. The sounds of her wet pussy squelching with every pump of his fingers erupted through the room, bouncing into his ears and running straight to his dick as if it couldn't get any harder. He had to make this quick before anyone got suspicious.

"I promise mama, next time I'll take real good care of you." Rio coos in her ear before pulling away and ridding himself of his pants and boxers.

Honey softly whines and clenches at the promise of a next time. She watched his painfully hard dick spring out and hit his lower abdomen with a hard this. Her eyes slightly widened as if was her first time seeing him. Wondering how she took all that. "You scared now?"

Honey sat up on her elbows and shook her head, she looked up at him through her fresh set of lashes. She slowly spreads her legs wider. His eyes fall between them and his tongue swipes his bottom lip. "Next time..." He softly repeats to himself as a reminder. "Next time..." He pulls her to the end of the bed and drops to his knees in front of her, he can't wait until next time. He just needed a little taste.

His head disappears between her thighs and she's greeted with the warmth of his tongue between her swollen lips she glitches at the contact but soon relaxes when a kiss is pressed against her clit before it was followed up with his tongue once more. Her eyelids fluttered. He was practically making out with her pussy, wet and sloppy sounds made themselves known-- thank goodness the music could drown them out. Gasps and whines leave her lips, her toes curl, her body rendering her powerless against his regime, especially when his thumb starts to tease her hole with small circles.

His hands ran over the back of her thighs and hooked in the space provided behind her knees. She's writhing under his touch, her hands gripping onto his sheets for dear life. "Oooooh, yeeeesss." She slurs lost in her pleasure.

Rio smiles at her continuous babbling, half the words he could barely make out himself. Honey's moans were going straight to his dick making him harder than ever it was almost painful. He, unwillingly, pulls away and she lets out a frustrated sigh. He smacks her thigh and shakes his head. "You're getting what you want, mama, relax. Yeah?"

He gives her no time to respond before he guides himself inside her heat, she's beyond wet and sticky, he knew he wouldn't last. Her back arches with every inch he puts inside her, she cries out as her hand quickly flies to his lower abdomen. "Fuck, wait..." She protests, swearing she can't take anymore.

"Honey, if you don't move that hand." His tone let her know it was a warning, she whines as she takes her hand back. Her jaw slacks so much it touches her chest, he's in and he's in deep. He retracts only a little bit before going in for more. He drives his hips into hers at a tantalizing rhythm. Honey's head falls onto the soft mattress, she lays there and all she can do is take what he's giving to her like a good girl.

A string of poetic and vulgar moans leave her system, telling him how big he is, how deep he is and how good he's making her feel. He can only respond with his grunts and praises, leaning over to bury his head in the crook of her neck, whispering some of the filthiest things she'd ever heard. "That pussy is soaking for me, huh? Guess it wasn't the Don Julio, after all, you fucking like this?"

All she can do is nod, the air from her lungs has been knocked out. The bed is rocking, creaking to the beat of his strokes, the small fear of being caught or heard had dissipated and her sole focus was on the man on top of her. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Her nails dig into his flesh while his teeth graze over her neck, his tongue gracing the same area. Rio pounded into her until he felt her tighten around him, he looked at her to catch her love faces. The way her jaw drops and her eyes roll to the back of her head, her eyelids fluttering from the intense pleasure and the euphoric feeling. And he just keeps going. Dragging it out, making sure she lets out everything. All of it. But she can't take it anymore, it feels good but she's so sensitive from the explosive orgasm, that her hand goes back to his lower abdomen.

And Honey gasps out of shock when her hands are suddenly pinned to the bed and above her head. "I told you to move your fucking hand didn't I?"

"Fuck! Baby, I can't take it." She pleads. "But you took it so well last time mama. I remember it."

Her eyes gloss over. "Telling me you don't remember? The way you kept asking me, begging me for more. For me to go deeper, for me to fill you up all the way."

She nods lazily, though she can barely tell what she's agreeing with. "Yeah? So, you can take it. Look how well you're doing right now."

Rio mumbles into her neck, he lets go of her hands and they immediately hug around his neck. "There she is." Her heels dig into his lower back, she wanted it deeper if it was possible. "Fuck me, please." She whines and it's barely a whisper. He pushes himself deep and stills his hips. "You asked so nicely darlin'." He rasps.

She's pinned between his body and the mattress, she could feel a devilish smirk against her skin before he isolates his hips— rotating them sloooowly. He's losing it too, just trying to keep his cool but he was at his tipping point. His tip nudging against her g-spot and her lush walls contracting around him. "You wanna cum baby?" She whispers and now it's his turn to nod as he loses his words. "You can cum inside me." She purrs feeling another orgasm pulling through. Rio plunged into her, she's coating him with her sticky pleasure. He stills once more and soon he's pouring everything into her, she giggles lazily. "Mmm, so warm."

He chuckled and shook his head planting a passionate kiss on her cheek. And they lay like that for a while, vibing in their post-coital glow— sweaty, hot and satisfied.

But as time passes they realize they have to go back before anyone truly notices anything. He cleans her up and himself and then begins to get dressed, in silence, which feels awkward. Neither of them knew what to say.

After they get dressed, Rio sneaks out first just in case anyone is inside the house— especially on the lookout for his sister but when he confirms the coast is clear he knocks on the door twice to let Honey know they are fine. The small action causes her to smile to herself. "I have to fix my hair." She softly says and hears a muffled, "Take your time, baby."

Her heart leaps and the little girl inside her begins to glow which causes her cheeks to heat up and if she were any lighter she'd look like a tomato.

After making sure she looked decent she creeps out of his room and closes the door quietly, but as she heads to the top of the steps she hears, "Honey?"

You've got to be kidding.

She quickly spins on her heels and smiles, seeing Cherry in the door frame of the bathroom, she reaches to turn off the light and crosses her arms right after.

"Hi, Cherry."

Her friend's eyes dart between her and the bedroom door. "What are you doing in Rio's room?"

Honey's throat had suddenly run dry and her brain had flushed all the excuses in the world. She had nothing to say. What could she say? It wouldn't be believable regardless. Her mouth opened with the incentive to speak but nothing but croaks of awkwardness.

"Are you-"

"Honey!" A sudden call comes from downstairs. It's Rio looking up at them from the first floor. "Have you seen- oh there she is. Honey and I were looking for you. Bring your big heads downstairs I'm cutting the cake."

She could feel a bead of sweat forming at her hairline. "I'm getting the second slice!" Honey childishly announces bolting down the stairs. "No! I am!" Cherry follows suit and they both bolt down the stairs. Honey slows down allowing her friend to pass her. She squeezes his arm as a silent thank you and he nods at her.

Everyone is outside and gathered around the table waiting for the three of them to arrive. Cherry and Honey stand with the birthday boy as their mom lights the candles.

"One... two... three."

They begin to sing, and while everyone is looking at him he can only pay attention to one person. Honey. She giggles and puts her head down trying to hide her ginormous smile. Everyone else was too busy singing to notice, but Cherry... oh Cherry noticed. Something was going on and she needed to find out.

Now.

🏷️: @darqchilddaydreamz @rio-reid-whoreee @skyesthebomb @realhotgurlshit @lovedlover @librarian1002

Might be interested: @bigenergy777 @educatorsareslutstoo

If you would like to be on the tag list, or removed lmk. If I missed you, sorry, I don’t have these tag lists written down (I should )

[espinosaurusrexex]

All the Words I Can't Say

College!SteveRogers x Female!Reader AU

summary: Steve can't help it. He is just so enchanted that all he ever draws is you. Too bad he will never actually talk to you, though - that's too scary. But Bucky always says he has to face his fears some day...

a/n: I have a playlist for College!SteveRogers. It was originally for another fic I’ve written, but apparently I can’t not imagine him awkward and love struck in any college universe. So this serves as a general College Stevie AU vibe :) 

word count: 2.6k

warnings: awkward, love-dazed Stevie, fluff?, swearing, and so sorry (but it's giving slight stalker vibes... it really wasn't my intention he's just so obsessed)

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ･

He dreams in color. They are the words he can’t say, painted on a canvas.

Blue fades in clear water. Like a feeling warming you for a second, a spark. It’s beautiful, Steve thinks. He loves it when his brush does it. He feels like a wizard when the pigment dissolves into the clear again - as if it had never been there before. Hidden in the masses of molecules, disguised only as long as it stays in its entity. Not too much - too much is never good. 

Another drop lands in the water, but now it starts to taint in washed color. Steve still loves it - it’s still magical. But there is something he loves even more. And it’s right there in front of him - not really. But almost. Depicted in oranges and browns, purples and blues, yellows, greens and reds - your eyes stare back at him with adoration. And Steve’s heart skips. Then it clenches and stops. It always does that... when the admonition flashes in his mind. 

It’s not real.

He has to remind himself too often. But he can’t help it. It’s too comforting to live in his fantasies - warm and safe - all he ever needed. Now it hurts with every stroke he dares. It’s not like he hasn’t done it dozens of times before. A notebook filled with sketches hidden beneath the mattress in his bedroom serves as proof of this. It never does anything other than remind him of what will never be a reality, though. You in his arms, you with love painted on your face for him. 

His thumb strokes over the dried paint on the canvas but a part of his finger still smudges it. Damn it, he hasn’t checked his fingers. Now there’s purple on your face, out of place and destroying - but daring all the same. It looks quite beautiful beneath your eyes, makes them shine brighter, makes your smile softer somehow. 

Steve sighs. The purple streak is going to stay for now. He washes his brushes out in the sink, recapping the bottles of paint scattering the studio he’s in. And before long, he flicks the lights off and locks the door. Professor Potts gave him the key for ‘when he needed to let it all out again’. He needs to show her some work soon.

It’s dark out when he reaches the path to his dorm. Stars shine as bright as they can against the unrelenting city lights. It’s hopeless. Just like Steve’s track of time when he paints you, the stars don’t stand a chance. It’s well over midnight when Steve unlocks his room. Bucky would be up. He has been out, drinking with Sam. But even if he would have stayed home, he probably couldn’t sleep... like always. So, Steve doesn’t bother being quiet. 

“Another late-night date with the canvas?” The brunette peers over his phone, though his eyes hold concern for Steve. He has told him hundreds of times before. Go out. Meet people. Don’t dig yourself deeper into this hopeless crush. But Steve never listened. He likes his hopelessness. And, besides, even if he tried to get over you, he knows it wouldn’t be possible. 

His smile finds the ground before he disappears into the bathroom where his sunken eyes stare back at him. He would be dreaming about you tonight - he always does when he paints you. And he looks forward to it, too. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You pass by him once again. It’s weird, because Steve swears he’s smiling, but his mouth won’t listen. He looks like an idiot. If only he could talk to you - Yeah, no. that isn’t an option. Because just thinking about it makes his heart go crazy fast. It’s scary because you’re so beautiful. And he knows he shouldn’t size himself down to leagues and scales, but how can he not when literally all of college is all about it? Bucky says he should grow some balls and ask you out or leave it be. But here’s the thing: he can’t leave it be - and he can most definitely not talk to you. It’s too scary - too foreign.

His brush dips back into lilac. He embraces the smudge now. Hated it for a while - but then it grew on him. Now it needs more shades. His tongue darts out as he tries to precisely draw along the curve of your cheekbone. He gets a little excited and his hand wants to shake, but he can hold it steady, he has practiced it enough.

Now another stroke. And another. Steve finds amusement in the color pouring onto his canvas. The smudge might have been the best mistake he’s ever made. Then again, there are no mistakes in painting. Accidents are meant to happen. They show the painter what their mind wants to see. 

“Is that... me?” Steve’s hands go flying and the brush throws purple all around him.

Oh no. Code red code red code red - that’s a fucking code red!

You just stand there as Steve flinches with the wooden brush hitting the floor, paint sprinkles covering your face - stunned, silent. This is a nightmare. He’s holding his breath. Really, there’s nothing he can do but hope he won’t pass out from the way your eyes bore into his wide and shocked. Though there is a softness in them still. You’re not angry - at least he doesn’t think so. Maybe, if he’s still a little longer, he’ll just disappear. 

That doesn’t happen. Obviously. Because god hates him.

His mouth opens, but there is not a sound formed by his tongue. He should apologize - he needs to apologize. God, but your eyes look too pretty with the purple accentuating your skin. He’s not even mad about it. He could look at it forever, look at you forever. Not that he doesn’t already do exactly that for the majority of his day. But still. 

“Are you okay?” You blink out of your trance and now Steve is panicking even more. “No need to apologize, by the way, I’m fine. Just got caught in a paint grenade.” Your eyes wander down your body and now Steve can see the fine blotches of lilac seeping into your shirt. It's white - shit. 

“I-” He’s trying, he really is. But something isn’t working up there. He just short circuits - wires smoking and all. It’s a complete mess. No wonder he can’t talk. And then your pretty gaze - he just needs to feel it and he’s melting away and, oh shit did you just see the painting? There are several stages of disaster but on a measure from failing a test to your mom dying, this is a six on the Richter scale. Why can’t he just say something?

He opens his mouth again and a weird noise escapes his tongue. What the fuck was that? By the look on your face, he can tell you’re just as surprised. But then your shoulders sag and you sigh.

“I shouldn’t have startled you like that, that was my fault. But this,” your gesture towards your shirt, “this is yours.” He swallows thickly, you seem to be really mad about that shirt. “You really speared nothing but that canvas.”

Now his body turns to the project propped up behind him. The canvas, right. You stare back at him, and now that you actually stand so close before him, he’s impressed at how lifelike he made your portrait. He’s surrounded by you, staring him down, but somehow your presence calms him. One last look at the purple smidge beneath your painted eyes and the breath returns to his lounges. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says when he spins back to you.

A small smile is placed on your lips and it reminds him of the series of sketches he made while you were laughing with your friends the other day. “Oh, so you can talk.”

“Sometimes,” he mutters to himself but he’s sure you’ve heard it. He turns to look at the painting again as he curses his carelessness. He can’t even stop you when you step forward to have a closer look at the artwork yourself. It’s too late now, anyway.

You reach forward but halt just in time. Unlike Steve, you didn’t smear the paint on your fingers all over the piece. “It’s very good.” 

Of course, it is. He puts everything in his paintings. All the things he can’t say. And, as he just noticed, that’s a whole lot.

“Thank you.” It’s small but it slips past his lips with ease. He never likes to accept compliments, but it’s different when you give them. He seeks your approval, especially now that you have caught him shamelessly reaping a piece of your privacy with his obsession.

Your eyes sway to him and then back to your portrait, and Steve is enchanted by the way your skin looks when the light hits it just right. He makes a mental note to draw you like this when he gets home - that is if you haven’t forbidden him to do so anymore. But who is he kidding? He’ll do it anyway, it’s an addiction.

His feet take him closer to you, and soon he’s gazing over your shoulder from a foot away, watching you watch the painting that’s looking right back at him. He’s trapped in the gaze he created and it’s taunting him: This is a mess. Then why doesn’t it feel messy?

Steve is so close to you, he can smell your shampoo, the faint remnant of the perfume you put on this morning, probably. It’s intoxicating, it draws him in and he can’t take his eyes off of you. His fingers are itching to touch you. He can imagine his hand moving your collar away to trail kisses from your shoulder to your collarbone - stop it, Steve. His face is heating up and his hands clench beside his body. 

“How long have you been working on this?” You spin around now suddenly, those lively eyes stare back at him, more intense - more real than he’s used to. And Steve can’t handle it, but his body isn’t looking away either. 

“Not that long,” he whispers as his focus lands on a moderate splatter of lilac beneath your eye. It’s not a lie, he’s memorized your features. Steve doesn’t even register your answer, he’s fixated on that little purple drop of color on your skin. It has a hold on him, he can’t do anything. 

“Why are you staring like that? Do I have something on my face?” It’s a silly joke, but Steve can’t tell you that you do. It would risk you swiping it away. And he can’t have that. Not when he wants to do it himself. He can’t do that, though, the purple spot is mocking him. And then, suddenly, like a bystander, he watches his hand move towards your face. He can’t stop it, it’s like an accident - he just needs to look, but he can’t do anything about it either. 

When his thumb finally makes contact with your skin, the world around him freezes again. There you are, so close before him, he’s touching your face, and it’s nothing like he thought it would be. He’s calm - so calm. Why is that? What is wrong with him?

Steve can hear your breath hitch when his fingers settle beneath your ear, his thumb resting next to the droplet of paint. He can finally feel his heart beating again, it’s getting faster now. He moves to wipe the lilac from your face, but he’s betrayed once again. The paint leaves a smudge beneath your eye and Steve is having flashbacks from the night before. 

Now you look just like his painting - his vision mixed with the perfect reality presented before him and he’s not sure, he can handle it. The world seems to spin when you take his hand from your face and look at the color on his finger. Then your eyes flick back up and his gaze locks with yours. Is this really happening? It feels so surreal.

The moment takes over Steve’s brain. It’s like he’s in one of those movies Sam likes to watch. There should be some piano queued in a second and then the main characters lean in to finally kiss in the rain. This won’t happen here, this is reality. But somehow, Steve isn’t so sure about it as soon as he thinks it.

Your eyes are still staring into his, wide, and it’s as if you’re not quite sure what’s happening either. If you feel anything like him at the moment, you must be captivated by the atmosphere that has been built around you. Steve is sure it can’t just be his big fat crush on you. It’s something new, something that just happened - the moment you took his hand in yours. 

Oh wow, you are leaning in. Panic surges up his spine. He can’t do it, not like this. This isn’t supposed to happen. You’re the princess and he’s the rat living in the peasant’s walls. But suddenly you're lips connect with his and it’s so simple, so effortless. He’s questioning everything at this point. Maybe you’re a witch and he’s a black cat. You are a little wicked, after all. And the way this feels - you and him - it’s like you belong together.

The hand that is still holding his guides him to your waist where it’s placed with promise. Steve can feel the paint transferring to the white cotton beneath his fingers but he’s too busy trying not to faint. He has done this before. He knows how to kiss, but he feels like a toddler with training wheels now that he gets to actually taste you. When your hand snakes around the back of his head, however, he regains consciousness. Your fingers press into his skin and he finally moves his lips in unison with yours. He can taste the minty aftertaste of gum on your tongue when he dares to explore it and he’s sinking into you like melted chocolate. Your breath tickles his cheek and when he pulls you a little closer to him, a surprised huff escapes your kiss. 

Then your hand slips from his neck and pushes gently against his chest. He pulls back, dazed eyes staring back at you. He’s yearning for more, whatever this was, and he’s chasing to stay in the universe you catapulted him into for a second longer. 

Your gaze travels over to the portrait again, then back to him and your thumb grazes over his sweater. “You owe me a new shirt.”

“Anything you want.” It’s a husky whisper in which his eyes stay fixated on the movement of your lips. He would say yes to about anything right now. His brain is mush. 

“It’s a date, then.” It looks like you want to nod, but you’re still staring at him with those tranced eyes - Steve can’t get enough of it.

He swallows thickly. “Okay.”

And then you just smile and leave him standing there, longing for a second more of your presence. But you have turned the corner faster than he can register and that’s when reality is setting back into his brain. It’s like he is snapped out of a vivid daydream, but he can still taste the mint on his tongue and he still has the purple smear on his finger. This was real, this actually happened. 

His eyes get caught on the painting once more. Intensely staring back at him with mockery: You’re an idiot. He knows that.

“Shut up,” he whispers to the drying paint on the canvas as he moves to pick up his brush again. But now that he has had the real thing, his drawings don’t do you justice anymore. 

I know it's a little weird, but I like it. I hope you do, too. You are welcome to share your thoughts - reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 💙

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[talonabraxas]

Veil upon Veil you hide The well-spring of the Infinite, The blue that delights, Pierces the heart, And produces a sapphire jewel.

Celestial Deity Talon Abraxas

"The light of the sun is the source of the colour we see reflected in the world. It begins in gamma rays whose wavelengths are a million times too short to see. By a process of absorption and re-emission throughout the sun's body, these spread out into longer wavelengths which travel through space and are further altered by interaction with the atmosphere. If there are no dusts or gases in the heavens, the sky appears black, as it does ten miles out from the earth's surface where the atmosphere thins out almost to the vanishing point." The old man adjusted himself in the chair and continued: "The colour of the sky, child, is closely associated with the way light, falling on matter, is scattered in all directions. The amount of scattered light is greater for shorter blue wavelengths than for longer red ones." Here the learned mariner became more technical and spoke slowly, using his hands to explain. "The intensity of scattered light is inversely proportional to the fourth power of the wavelength. Because of this, blue light loses more energy than red and its scattering is dependent upon low atmospheric content. In the atmosphere of the earth, molecules of gases scatter the blue waves in all directions while the red waves are absorbed, causing the sky to appear blue. The more rarefied the air, the greater the scattering of these short waves and the deeper the colour of blue. But when there is considerable dust or moisture in the air, the layers of particles scatter the longer red waves and cause the sky to become whiter. The red and blue light mixes to produce the whitened sky so common in higher latitudes where moisture particles hang in the air. So the dust rising in a hot, dry clime bleaches out the heavens until a heavy rain settles the earth and leaves behind it a deep saturated blue. Men long for that blue, child. They always dream of travelling south into the azure intensity that has inspired poets and painters for countless years. So thus they gaze out over the horizon as you do, trying to penetrate its vastness."

“Blue color is everlastingly appointed by the deity to be a source of delight.” — John Ruskin

Appointed by the Deity, it is the abode of the gods, their intrinsic attribute and celestial surrounding. It is the colour of the Queen of Heaven and the feminine principle of the Great Deep. It veils the impenetrable void of chaos and yet recedes into its folded mystery. It is the colour of the cloak of Hera and Zeus and clings to Diana's fleet, forested shape. It is reflected in the blue robes once worn by priests at the grave and by the Levites who called their garb the livery of heaven. 'The Blue' is a synonym for heaven and all that is divine. In the darkened depths of its expanse lies Nature's solitude, wrapped in a cold noumenal glow whose purity is incomparable. By its grace, the sea takes on its colour and draws the ocean of space into the world, but the purity of 'the Blue' remains aloft to be viewed from mountain tops on perfectly clear and blessed days.

[stardewthoughts]

blue chickens

ok, so let me preface this with, i'm no chicken expert nor biologist, this is just something i find fascinating and i'm still a biology nerd just not employed for it lol

ok so first of all, lets lay out some facts, shane who for a majority of his time in stardew valley has been depressed and highly alcohol dependant, while working a dead end job in a soul crushing company, managed to breed chickens with not only an unusual colour but unusual physical traits, seen in functionally no other hens. that is both objectively impressive and kinda insane, but when broken down its much more impressive

firstly, creating a new breed of anything takes years and a lot of patience, on average it takes 5-7 generations to have chickens breed true (reproduce creating offspring with the same traits as them) without setbacks and on average one generation would take 6-7 months, which would mean roughly 4 years of work

on top of the time it would take, shane would have to have a very good grasp on genetics, to realize what combinations would produce whatever outcome he wants, and while he likely discovered a mutation in the colour pigment that he took advantage of, he'd still have to meticulously plan pairings and keep track of genetics and generations, trying to avoid major inbreeding while keeping the blue gene dominant in the gene pool.

but there's one thing off, true blue pigment is extremely rare in animals, with only one known species producing it, Obrina Olivewing butterfly. so how the hell could the chickens be blue?

its quite simple, Rayleigh scattering

(definition)

-Rayleigh scattering refers to the scattering of light off of the molecules of the air, and can be extended to scattering from particles up to about a tenth of the wavelength of the light. It is Rayleigh scattering off the molecules of the air which gives us the blue sky

its rayleigh scattering that also causes blue jays to be blue, seeing as the predominant pigment in their feathers is melanin making them truly brown/black in colour. ironically real world blue chickens aren't really blue, the blue genes are more of a dilution gene for black pigment

now i'm not knowledgeable enough to tell you how to make a blue chicken but my hypothesis would be a mutation/modification in feathers(possibly naturally iridescent feathers) that caused more blue to reflect, this mutation being bred through the lines, being crossed bac to produce more blue, till the chickens became solid blue.

on top of the strange color, these hens have also developed more rooster like tails, this being much simpler to explain, likely being a mutation causing increased feather growth akin to a rooster, within hens

this shows how much work and dedication shane put into his hens, and is one of the reasons he's my favourite characters, this man, who likely (to me atleast) has no science background, managed to create chickens defying what was believed to be the barrier of poultry colouration

[celosiaceo]

Last-minute Arcane theory

Dropping my inactivity streak to write out my last-minute Viktor theory before act 3 drops 🎀

ARCANE SEASON 2 ACT 2 SPOILERS UNDER CUT

I found Viktor’s new commune cult and the iridescent transformations on the people he “healed” to be very interesting, as well as the way that the Hexcore changed to be something more organic rather than mechanical-automatic.

With that I kind of got invested in poking at what exactly the hexcore became and what it was actually doing to people. And I think that it’s all a mushroom!!!

A big part of that conclusion to me is a polymer in mushrooms called chitin — in fungi, some mollusks, sea organisms, and insects use chitin as a structural polymer to build cell walls (in fungi) and exoskelletons (in mollusks, shellfish and insects)

When it’s pure, chitin is pliable, tough, resilient and in thin layers is translucent like in insect wings. In thin layers it can organize itself in stacks of photonic crystals which create iridescent colors when light hits them, which reminds me of a thing or two

(for sidenotes, the shiny marks that the people get seem to have a metallic sorta glimmer to them, which I think references titanium prosthetic implants that are very common in today’s medicine!! the shiny medal combined with iridescent chitin could in theory make something that looks similar visually, not sure if chitin can actually be combined with metal or not tho, and would coincide with the marks being placed on the ailed parts of people like prosthetics)

As chitin isn’t a “native” molecule to mammals or plants, both have immune receptors that can recognize chitin and initiate an immune response to destroy it if it’s detected within the organism

mammals have those receptors mainly in their lungs or intestines, but they can also be on the skin

Plants too have receptors that can set off the defense response against chitin but! Commensal mushrooms (that leech off a host for nutrition without harming or benefitting the host) have a way to shut this defense (it’s not understood how as of now), and some pathogen fungi can release proteins that block those receptors and mask chitin so the immune response isn’t activated — which could be why the “healed” peoples’ bodies don’t reject the transmutation despite not being injected with shimmer like Viktor had been

Because it’s a natural compound, chitin can also be made really biocompatible (compatible with the organism, not rejected by the immune system), and for that it has many applications in real life medicine being tested in the current time! Those include tissue regeneration, wound dressings or cancer treatments (also sounds pretty familiar, as the "healing" cured tumours caused by shimmer and various mobility disabilities and injuries)!

Another thing that further got me convinced in the hex-shroom theory is the prosperity of the commune — when it started, it looked like a barren wasteland with some metal scraps scattered around, but just after 6-7 months (that’s how long I heard the timeskip between act 1 and act 2 was) there’s flower fields and fully grown fruit trees? A mutated ”mushroom on steroids” could in fact be behind that in theory

Fungi are aaancient organisms, and they can form soil from inorganic matter by breaking it down for nutrition, they also very much enrich existent soil, and many mushroom species form symbiotic relationships with plants. and back to chitin, it can be used in agriculture to improve plants’ pathogen resistants, growth and defence against pests! So if the whole place is infused with the hex-shroom, it’s very possible that it’s also behind the agricultural boom, or “healing the land”, in the commune too! This thought train got me really concerned about Vi actually, and made me wonder if her suddenly considering joining the commune after eating several of the local fruits wasn’t a coincidence…

So how do people iridescent markings turn into the things Jayce sees in his flashbacks? I suspect the hex-shroom an be behind that too!

I suspect that the hex-shroom consumes the host over time and replaces their human tissue with itself. People in the commune end up with increasingly more hex-mushroom in their body from the “healing” that slowly becomes harder and takes their bodies over while their natural defenses are silenced, and because everything they eat has grown from the soil that the mushroom formed and with the help of the mushroom as a fertilizer and growth agent

Chitin also explains the transition of the markings to the wood-like material itself. When combined with some additional molecules or stacked in thicker fibrils chitin becomes way harder and stiffer and loses its translucense, becoming more of a dull color as it gains density. In it can form incredibly strong microfibrils that are harder and stronger than bone or steel!! In hindsight this explains why Viktor only ended up with a hole in his chest and not reduced to atoms by Jayce’s shot while the whole roof behind him was obliterated

Since the people don’t have mouths or eyes and appear to be hollow (missing brains or other organs), they look like mushroom stalks a lot to me, since those are often hollow too. By then they’re probably sustained entirely by hex energy from the core in a kinda invisible hyphae network and their senses work off of it too by group communication through the network (through the glowing fingerprint marks) or something.

The way the healing entirely removes the people’s sense of self-preservation very quickly also reminds me a lot of the cordiceps mushroom, which overtakes the host’s body and makes it put itself in open spaces where it’d be easily eaten by predators

Ok but why would the hexcore (and the hex matrix too) turn into a mushroom specifically?

I thought about that too, then I remembered that the hexcore started mutating after absorbing Viktor’s blood, and the matrix probably started mutating after Viktor coughed down the tunnel leading down to it all the way back in s1e5 (thats the only reason that’d make sense to me, since arcane had done insane foreshadowing like that before)…

With that in mind, it’s very possible that Viktor’s affliction is some sort of chronic fungal infection of the lungs — he’d be at a high risk of any given chronic infection, due to growing up in the fissures with health compromised by the Grey.

And so the hexcore and the matrix absorbed his blood and the pathogen fungus within it and mutated, adapting to the fungus’s functions and patterns, even down to looking like mycelium/hyphae while healing Viktor.

If before it acted like nuclear energy, serving whatever purpose it was given without its own motivation, now it has a motivation; to propagate and spread and infect, corrupting the minds of its host to not let itself die out, the way it manipulates Viktor’s, the primary host’s mind to believe that “healing” others of both ailment and identity aligns with his altruistic motives of actually saving lives and the way it removes any self-preservation of its secondary hosts

Anyways I’m shaking and crying over the prospects of act 3 god save us all idk how I'm gonna fall asleep today... preparing my tear glads

[uncontrolledfission]

The Colors of Saturn from Cassini, 2024-06-23

What creates Saturn's colors? The featured picture of Saturn only slightly exaggerates what a human would see if hovering close to the giant ringed world. The image was taken in 2005 by the robot Cassini spacecraft that orbited Saturn from 2004 to 2017. Here Saturn's majestic rings appear directly only as a curved line, appearing brown, in part from its infrared glow. The rings best show their complex structure in the dark shadows they create across the upper part of the planet. The northern hemisphere of Saturn can appear partly blue for the same reason that Earth's skies can appear blue -- molecules in the cloudless portions of both planet's atmospheres are better at scattering blue light than red. When looking deep into Saturn's clouds, however, the natural gold hue of Saturn's clouds becomes dominant. It is not known why southern Saturn does not show the same blue hue -- one hypothesis holds that clouds are higher there. It is also not known why some of Saturn's clouds are colored gold.

Credits: NASA's 'Astronomy Picture Of The Day.'

[peoplesrazor]

Just to be an ass, but also because I actually know this one:

Black. The sky would be black if it wasn't for the atmosphere.

If you want to explain to older kids why the sky is blue, the explanation is something called Rayleigh scattering. Basically, the air molecules in the atmosphere scatters the longer wavelengths (red, for an example) less then longer wavelengths like blue. So, blue is what we see. Otherwise, the sun's light would directly go into our eyes and the surrounding sky would be black.

For younger kids, I always just say the sky scatters the light into the different colors and the blue is easiest to see.

Again, I take Lily's point, even if I think it doesn't necessarily apply to most of what people are arguing against with her.

I just wanted to share something I know.

[melanieathene]

Suptober 2023 Day 13 - Flirt

“Refill, sugar?” the waitress trilled, leaning over the table so her cleavage was perfectly in line of sight. Or would have been, had Castiel bothered to raise his eyes from his phone.

“No thank you,” he murmured politely. “Dean, look at this.” He passed his phone over to the hunter. “I think I've found our witch.”

“Oh, witches are yesterday's news,” the waitress said, determined not to be ignored. “So dark and gloomy. I'm going as a mermaid this Halloween. Hair down to here, all curvy and sparkly and – ”

“The bill, please,” Dean interrupted.

The waitress pouted, but retreated to the counter.

“If she'd batted her eyes at you any harder, those fake lashes would have fallen in your coffee,” Dean grumbled

Castiel tilted his head to one side. “I don't understand that reference.”

“She was flirting with you, Cas,” Sam said helpfully.

“Oh. I didn't notice.”

“Dean sure did,” Sam chuckled. “What's the matter, Dean? Jealous that she didn't flirt with you?”

“She's not my type.”

“What? Young, blonde, pretty, stacked. What's not to like?”

“The bill, sir,” the waitress tossed a slip of paper at Dean. “And if you decide you'd rather hang out with a mermaid, sugar...” She tucked a second paper in the angel's pocket, and mimed 'call me'.

Dean tossed some money on the table – just enough to cover their meal, plus an insultingly small gratuity. Sam and Castiel trailed him out the door. As they crossed the parking lot, Castiel retrieved the paper from his pocket and studied it curiously. “Is this another flirtation?” he mused.

“That's a damn sight more than flirting, Cas. That's a brazen attempt at seduction.” Dean snatched the phone number from Castiel's hand and ripped it into tiny bits which he scattered to the wind.

“That's littering, Dean.”

“Sue me,” Dean said and stalked off without so much as a backward glance.

“Sam?”

“Yes, Cas?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

Sam patted the angel's shoulder. “No, Cas. Dean's just being a dick. You know, it's not too late to go back inside and get her phone number.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Never mind, Cas,” he said.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean greeted as Castiel entered the kitchen. “Coffee?” He waved the pot questioningly.

“Yes, please,” Castiel replied as he took a seat.

Dean leaned over the table until their foreheads almost bumped and deposited a steaming mug close to Castiel's hand.

Castiel wrapped both hands around the mug and breathed in the enticing aroma before taking a cautious sip. “What is it about coffee that makes its molecules so pleasing?” he wondered, taking a second, deeper swallow. By the time Dean had stuffed the last of the bacon in his mouth, Castiel's mug was empty.

“Refill, 'sugar'?” Dean trilled, with a wink and a light touch that caressed the angel's shoulder.

Sam's head popped out from behind a newspaper in time to see a funny look cross Castiel's face.

Call me, Dean mimed after refilling the mug. He turned away, setting the pot back in it's holder before calmly sauntering out of the room.

“W-was... was that a flirtation?” Castiel sputtered.

“I don't know,” Sam said, shaking his head from side to side. “It could have been... but, then again, sarcasm is equally likely.” Sam shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I see.” Castiel sat quietly sipping his coffee for a few minutes, before suddenly pushing his chair back and rising to his feet.

“Where are you going, Cas?” Sam asked, already knowing the answer.

“To speak with Dean.”

“I'm not sure that's a good idea.”

But Sam's words fell on empty air. Castiel was already halfway down the hall.

He didn't bother knocking.

He burst into Dean's room with such force that the door crashed back against the wall, cracking the plaster. A second bang slammed the door shut again.

Dean looked up from from where he was seated at the end of the bed, a partially assembled gun held in his hands. He dropped a cleaning rag to the floor, but showed no other reaction to the obviously angry angel's rude intrusion.

“What was that?” Castiel demanded.

“What was what?”

“Don't play stupid. You know very well what I mean.” “Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Why don't you spell it out for me, Cas.”

“In the kitchen... Was that a flirtation, Dean?”

“Would you like it to be?”

“You're making fun of me.”

“No,” Dean admitted quietly. “I'm not. I'm really not. Answer my question, Cas. What if it was a flirtation. How would you respond to that?”

The fear in Dean's green eyes was obvious as he waited for a reply.

Castiel found himself at a loss for words, his silence lasting so long that Dean carefully set the gun aside and rose to his feet, retreating to the far side of the room.

“Never mind,” Dean muttered. “Forget it. I'll just –we'll just – Let's pretend this conversation never happened.”

“I don't like ambiguity,” Castiel finally responded, advancing step by slow step. “I don't 'get' flirtations or sarcasm. I prefer honesty. Directness. What I'd do, how I'd feel, if –if – I truly believed you were interested in me, wanted me... the way that I want you...” The last few words were spoken so softly they almost were inaudible. As they trailed off into silence, Castiel stood as still as a statue, and let his eyes do the speaking for him.

Dean closed the distance between them and drew Castiel into a tight embrace. His lips were warm and tender as they connected with the angel's: negating the need for any further words, nurturing the hope that shone in Castiel's eyes, erasing the fear that had clouded his own.

“Is this direct enough for you, 'sugar'?” Dean whispered as their lips finally parted.

“Yes,” Castiel breathed, and leaned in for another kiss.

[apod]

2024 June 23

The Colors of Saturn from Cassini Image Credit: NASA, ESA, JPL, ISS, Cassini Imaging Team; Processing & License: Judy Schmidt

Explanation: What creates Saturn's colors? The featured picture of Saturn only slightly exaggerates what a human would see if hovering close to the giant ringed world. The image was taken in 2005 by the robot Cassini spacecraft that orbited Saturn from 2004 to 2017. Here Saturn's majestic rings appear directly only as a curved line, appearing brown, in part from its infrared glow. The rings best show their complex structure in the dark shadows they create across the upper part of the planet. The northern hemisphere of Saturn can appear partly blue for the same reason that Earth's skies can appear blue -- molecules in the cloudless portions of both planet's atmospheres are better at scattering blue light than red. When looking deep into Saturn's clouds, however, the natural gold hue of Saturn's clouds becomes dominant. It is not known why southern Saturn does not show the same blue hue -- one hypothesis holds that clouds are higher there. It is also not known why some of Saturn's clouds are colored gold.

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap240623.html

[deadbirdlife]

Transparent mouse breakthrough!!

Ou et al. found that applying a food dye (tartrazine) to the skin of live, hairless mice turned the skin temporarily/reversibly transparent!

The dye molecule absorbs in the near ultraviolet and blue region of the light spectrum, and changes the refractive properties of the aqueous (water-containing) portion of the skin to match the lipid (fat) portion of the skin, such that the refractive index in the red part of the spectrum is increased without increasing absorption. This essentially allows not-blue (mostly red) light waves to pass through the skin with minimal scattering, hit muscles, organs, and other internal structures, and pass back through the skin to our eyes, allowing us to see "inside" the mice. They tested this in three regions on the mice: in the abdomen to view fluorescent protein–labeled enteric neurons to track gut motility, in the scalp to visualize cerebral blood vessels, and in the hind limb to visualize individual sarcomeres (microscopic muscle units).

Initial safety tests seem promising, although further experiments are needed to fully explore how safe it is to dump that much dye into the skin.

Note: this doesn't mean we'll be able to do this to humans, exactly; human skin is much thicker than mouse skin, and we have far thicker fat between our skin/muscles/abdominal walls/organs, which will interfere with penetration. However, if safety tests bear out...this could have really cool implications for small animal veterinary medicine, biomedical research, microscopy, and any other settings where noninvasive internal imaging of small, thin-skinned animals is needed.

Article: Zihao Ou et al., Achieving optical transparency in live animals with absorbing molecules. Science 385 , eadm6869 (2024). DOI: 10.1126/science.adm6869