#v: construct of science

[themissingnumbers]

OOC// I wanted to ask if it's okay to be inspired by the way the ask blogs are done in MN? Like the character to the side, can't see below shoulders, add arms thingy?

[ omg YESSS absolutely !!! nothing makes me happier than being able to inspire ppl, so please do feel free!! ]

[emo-batboy]

Battinson Guest Starring on TV Shows

SO

For someone who holds the title of Richest Man in the World, Bruce doesn’t do a lot of traveling.

Which is to say he does a LOT of traveling, but he always tries to find a way out of it.

(Are there bat-related reasons for this? Are there people-related reasons for this? Are there anxiety-related reasons for this? Who knows?)

But partners and sponsors aren’t always going to tolerate his hermit-like tendencies. So once every month or so, Alfred wrangles Bruce into a private jet and sends him off to who knows where so he can represent the company.

Usually, it’s somewhere close on the East Coast, maybe it’s across the pond, even Asia isn’t off the table, but the rarest place to spot Bruce Wayne is actually the West Coast of the US.

One day, it is announced that Bruce Wayne will be spending two (count ‘em, 2) consecutive weeks in California with his kids for some grand business convention.

The West Coast media goes feral with the news, ESPECIALLY interviewers. And because Bruce kicks up such a fuss this time, Alfred has the gall to sign him up for FOUR TV appearances.

Here are these appearances :)

RuPaul’s Drag Race

Drag Queens, especially Drag Race all-stars, contribute to a wide variety of charities

So on a new episode, the queens are challenged to design and shoot a promotional ad for their own charity

And who better to act as a guest judge for this episode than the show’s largest benefactor, CEO of the Wayne Foundation, Bruce Wayne?!

Physically? He’s older than half of the contestants. But spiritually? He screams Baby Gay.

Fifteen minutes into the episode, Bruce is welcomed into the werkroom where he gives them pointers on their campaign. He’s in his cute little three-piece suit (Alfred’s idea) with the intention of looking put-together and knowledgeable. But that’s not the only outcome.

They all flirt with him. Everyone, single or taken. The confessionals are so thirsty.

“He’s lucky the cameras are on. Otherwise, I’d eat him up faster than a bachelorette party in a buffet line.”

“My celebrity crush is talking to me, and all I can focus on are his gorgeous eyes. How am I supposed to know what he's saying?”

Of course, they shoot their shot, but most of it is joking since they don't know he's bi yet.

“Are you single, honey?” Bruce blushes. “It’s complicated.” “Well, I’ll make it simple for you.”

We all know this man can't handle being flirted with. We saw how he froze when Selina did it. It’s like he mentally bluescreens when someone calls him a pet name.

Only THEN do they learn he's bi

One of the queens jokingly asks him, “Ever been with a man before?” thinking it would be a firm no, but Bruce says, “Actually, yes.” “Oh shit, really?” And to Bruce’s embarrassment, the whole room hears him.

The flirting is thus taken up a notch.

On the main stage, Bruce has a lot of great constructive criticism. He talks about how to find the right audience, the importance of a good slogan, and even goes on a little rant about logo design.

(You cannot convince me that Bruce hasn’t hyperfixated on the business of charity work before. Or the science of marketing. They’re his favorite business topics.)

After about three minutes of him complimenting one contestant for their Drag Library pitch, he stops himself mid-sentence and says, “Oh sorry, am I talking too much?” “No, please! Keep talking, sweetheart.” Bruce covers his face to hide his blush. “Why is everyone flirting with me?” “Baby, have you seen yourself?”

While the judges deliberate, RuPaul mentions Charisma, Uniqueness, Nerve, and Talent. Bruce nods along for a while then suddenly just blurts out, “Wait, does it spell ****?”

The judges pause then burst out laughing. “Oh no, we’ve traumatized him!" Bruce is blushing up a storm. “I just never thought about it like that!” “Sweet, innocent Bruce. We’re so sorry.”

It’s later revealed that Bruce offered to help some of the queens launch their charity projects through the Wayne Foundation.

It’s v cute 🥰

Nailed It!

I love Nicole Byer.

She is Mother.

In all seriousness, she’s so fucking funny and she’s personable enough to pull Bruce out of his shell a bit.

The theme for this episode is Found Family. Three pairs of family members compete together—a gay father and his adopted son, an aunt who adopted her niece, and a stepfather and stepdaughter.

Because Bruce Wayne famously adopted two children, he is invited to guest judge.

So Nicole opens the episode with a zinger, the contestants are introduced, and Bruce is welcomed onto the judge’s panel beside Nicole and Jacques.

(Yes, Bruce does speak French. Yes, Nicole makes a joke about it being hot.)

Nicole: “We were surprised you accepted our invitation, Mr. Wayne. You’re notorious for staying on the East Coast. What brought you to the Nailed It! Studio?” Bruce: “My children love this show. They always tell me I should be on it since I’m so bad at baking.” Nicole: “Really? Maybe we should do a celebrity season of Nailed It! and have you compete.” Bruce: “No, you should not.”

Nicole: “So, Bruce, I know you have a butler at home who bakes for you. But what’s the grossest thing you’ve eaten? Escargot? Bad caviar?” Bruce: “I drank olive oil straight from the bottle once.” Nicole: “…What?”

The problem for Bruce is he can’t say anything bad. It just feels mean :(

(And he would rather jump into oncoming traffic than gamble with a social interaction)

For the first challenge, the contestants make cake pops. But when Bruce tries the first one, there is a sickening crunch. Bruce’s eyes widen for a second and he slowly chews.

Nicole: “What was that? Bruce, are you okay?” Bruce, clearly struggling: “It’s…good.”

“Bruce, you can spit it out. It’s okay.” “I already swallowed it.” “Oh, you poor thing.” Bruce chokes for a second, and Nicole pats his back. “Please don’t die. We can’t afford it.”

For the big challenge, production has a surprise in store for Bruce.

Dick (9) and Jason (7) run onto the set and smother Bruce with a hug.

It’s adorable. Bruce no longer cares about paying attention, okay? His kids are here :D

The two boys read from cue cards to announce the second challenge: a three-tiered Gotcha Day cake. And as per tradition, the winner of the first challenge gets a leg-up.

This time, it’s a Helping Hands Button. When they hit the button, Dick and Jason will run over and help them for three minutes. (While being supervised, of course.)

As the contestants bake, Nicole says hello to Dick and Jason, who are clambering all over Bruce like a jungle gym. They both shake her hand and talk about how they love the show.

Nicole looks pointedly at the two empty chairs beside Bruce. “You know, we brought these chairs for you two to sit in.” Dick, on Bruce’s shoulders: “We’re fine, Ms. Byer!” Nicole: “Ms. Byer? Oh, you’re a cutie, aren’t you?”

Just ten minutes before the challenge is over, the Helping Hands button is pressed, and Dick and Jason are given stools so they can help the aunt and niece stack their cake tiers.

Two minutes in, the aunt instructs them to let go of the cake. But the moment Jason pulls his hands away, the cake topples over and covers him in frosting. Jason, whispering: “Oh f*ck.” Bruce: “Jason!” Jason: “I didn’t say that! Dick did!” Nicole: *cackling as Bruce buried his face in his hands*

Jason gets cleaned up, and Dick helps them stack what can still be salvaged.

When Wes brings out the trophy, he’s dressed as Batman. Dick and Jason gets a kick out of that.

Celebrity Family Feud

Bruce was invited to the show after his SNL skit went viral a few months ago

This episode, the teams are split up by cities they grew up in. Gotham v. Star City. Naturally, his team is playing for the Wayne Foundation.

It’s a pretty odd cast of people, most of them having moved to LA or Hollywood. Bruce is the only one to still live in Gotham.

They have fun, though, despite their limited common ground. The audience has a few good laughs.

(Some at Bruce's expense)

Harvey: You're a very wealthy man, Mr. Wayne. What do you really do in that tower all day? Bruce: I, uh…business? Harvey: …You business. Bruce: ……Wait-

All in good fun. Bruce just vibes in his little corner until he needs to answer a question. It's pretty chill.

For exactly half of the episode.

Then it happens.

Steve Harvey takes two people from each team up to the buzzer and says, “We asked 100 people: Name something your parents always told you as a kid.”

What the production failed to consider is how this particular question might be a sensitive topic for some contestants.

Bruce’s team gets the question, and Steve saunters up to Bruce, completely oblivious.

“Alright, Bruce Wayne!” Bruce nods awkwardly. “Hi, Steve.” “Bruce, what’s wrong? You’re looking a bit uncomfortable.” “…I don’t like this question, Steve.” “Why not?” Bruce just gives him a desperate look, and it clicks. “Oh! Oh my gosh!”

Let’s be real. Bruce is awkward enough, but Steve Harvey cannot save an awkward moment for his life either.

But he tries his best anyway and asks, “Are you okay with answering this question, or would you like to pass?” Bruce nods frantically. “I can answer. ‘I love you.’” “I love you too, Mr. Wayne.” “No, uh, my answer is ‘I love you.’” “Oh! That’s a good one.”

Thankfully, the audience erupts in laughter. That little interaction cuts the tension, and Bruce’s answer ends up on the board.

And by god, the memes

“I love you too, Mr. Wayne” is the new “Enjoy your meal.” “You too.”

The audio clip of “I don’t like this question, Steve” goes viral on TikTok

Someone gets a pic of Bruce and Steve looking at each other with palpable fear in their eyes, and it makes its rounds all over Twitter

10/10 never again

Running Wild with Bear Grylls

Now this is the most challenging. Not because it’s difficult, of course. But because Bruce has to look stupid enough to maintain his Brucie Wayne persona but smart enough to keep himself safe.

For this episode, Bear takes Bruce to the California desert.

“How much do you know about survival, Bruce?” Bear asks. Bruce nods carefully. “I did some survival training once with a friend from boarding school.” “Oh really, how did you do?” “Fine, I think.”

This is, of course, his way of saying I trained with a league of assassins for years, but Bear can’t know that! And that’s how most of the episode goes.

Thank god Bruce's fear of being caught is mistaken for being scared of the physical challenge because every time Bear points out how well he’s doing, he breaks into a sweat.

Bear: For a businessman, you’re surprisingly fit. Bruce, sweating bullets: Oh, this is all just for show.

Bear: Wow, you’re a natural. Are you sure you’ve never set up a zip-line before? Bruce, gripping his equipment so tight he gets rope burn: I think it’s just the survival instincts.

Of course, he pretends to be out of breath a few times. The Drama.

Bruce, pretending to slip and fall: Ouch! Who knew the outdoors were so dangerous? Bear, you are crazy. Bruce, internally: How much longer are we doing this?

Bruce being a vegetarian is actually a point of contention. You see, Bear always makes their celebrity guests do something crazy for food like skin a snake or eat a mouse. Scavenging for berries just doesn’t grab the audience’s attention.

But do you know what is vegetarian?

Bear: Now, in extreme cases of survival, it’s not rare for humans to resort to drinking their own pee. That’s what we’ll be doing in a moment. Are you up for it? Bruce, visibly repulsed: I’ve had Gotham tap water. I’ll be fine.

How on God’s Green Earth did Alfred convince him to do this?

To get to the extraction point, Bear takes Bruce down a cliffside.

Bear shows Bruce the meticulous process of properly belaying from the top of a cliff, and Bruce, who has done this over 100 times is like, “Wow that’s so dangerous :( Will we be okay?”

He really tries to ramp up his acting skills this time.

(Little does he know that’s not necessary.)

Bruce goes down first as Bear belays with a cameraman filming from the top. Halfway down, Bruce hears a scuffle, and the cameraman yells, “F*ck!”

Bruce looks up, arms already out for protection, and he sees a small disk falling towards him. It’s the lens cap. He catches it on instinct.

For a second, he thinks, “Shit, was that too skilled? That’s not enough to make people think I’m Batman, right? I just caught it in midair while dangling from a cliff. That’s totally not weird and suspicious. Normal people do that—“

Then Bear yells, “Bruce, drop it!” Bruce looks up at Bear, confused. “Why?” “There's a scorpion!” That’s when Bruce looks at the lens cap and sees a black scorpion perched on top with its tail ready to strike.

They don’t have those in Gotham.

Bruce jumps in his harness and flings the cap at the rocky cliffside. He hears a crunch, and the scorpion and cap tumble to the ground. Bruce frowns. Can a scorpion survive that drop?

“You just killed a scorpion, mate!” Bear cries. Bruce looks up in horror. “I killed it?!” “Hell yeah!” Bruce’s face falls. “No!”

Because oh. shit.

Bruce just killed something. The sad, orphaned vegetarian just killed a scorpion.

Bruce has a meltdown.

He didn’t mean to kill it!!!! Oh no, he just killed an innocent little creature. Yeah, he punches people for fun sometimes, and he definitely put a few violent criminals in the hospital, but he’s never committed MURDER!!

This poor little scorpion died due to his own negligence, and he feels so so so bad about it.

Bruce is a mess as he climbs the rest of the way down.

Bruce, cradling the scorpion’s body: I don’t know how to perform CPR on a scorpion! Bear: Bruce, you took its head clean off. Bruce: *sad noises*

Legit inconsolable. To him, it’s like he just murdered a puppy

Once they're out, Bear is trying to cheer him up. Bless him.

Bear: We’ve conquered the wild! Haven’t we, Bruce? Bruce, head between his legs, still mourning the scorpion: I’m never going outside again.

Yeah, no one’s going to think he’s Batman after that.

And that's all four of Bruce's TV appearances from the West Coast :) Dick and Jason never let him live any of it down. Alfred is almost sorry. (He is not sorry.)

Let me know your thoughts! What other TV shows do you think Battinson would appear on as a guest?

Okie dokie :D Love y'all! Have a good day <3

[pinguwrites]

Ooooh, what about this? Future!reader accidentally time traveled to 1940s when she met William Killick, and he had to take care of her due to injuries she had. She ended up staying with him while rejecting his advances because she was trying to find a way to go back to future, and it wouldn’t be fair to him if she were to accept his advances, but she didn’t know William was sabotaging the solutions to ensure she would stay with him forever.

THIS IS ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL LIKE HOLY SHIT. I was about to write something like this with Tommy in Black Heart, but I opted out, and I hadn't even considered this with William, so I'm so glad you requested it!!

this was supposed to be a short-length fic lol, it's like the longest thing I've ever written on here

Home Is Where the Heart Is ⸻ William Killick

pairing | william killick x future!reader

summary | You don't think much of the box when it arrives at your front door. That is, until you open it and are transported decades into the past. There, you fall into the arms of a handsome soldier, who is intent on making you stay.

word count | 9k

Warnings: DUB-CON, possessive!william, future!reader, period typical sexism it's okay when it's william, reader has a software job, weird time travel plot (who knows how the box got there? it's totally not going to be revealed in part two ;) ), mentions of war, reader simps so hard, p in v sex, breeding kink

Disclaimer: The Edge of Love characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

A/N: I'm honestly not too proud with how rushed it was, but I'm glad it's out there. I'm definitely doing a part two. Be warned for errors.

You were lying in a field of grass, tall, bushy trees lining the area around you. You seemed to be in some type of countryside because in the distance you could faintly see quaint little houses and farmland (at least, you assumed it was; your vision was awfully blurry), but other than that, you had no clue as to where you were.

“Ah,” you hissed, noticing the cut on your body. When you arrived — however that happened — you had scrapped your arm on a sharp rock embedded in the dirt, and now it was bleeding, red blood trickling down your arm.

You sighed miserably, trying to make sense of the situation.

Yesterday, a packaged box arrived on your front doorstep. No address, no company, just a note in pen, To [Y/n] [L/n]. You were a little wary of its contents but brought it inside anyway. You opened it and uncovered a machine, steel and simple in its construction, yet difficult to understand. There was no instruction manual or labels for the buttons, and it took you a while to know if you were even looking at it right, the only hint being the Roman numerals inside the dials.

After tinkering around with it, you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew, you were in a completely other place. All you had on were your clothes, some money, and your phone, which, surprise surprise, had no signal, so all you could do was look at your downloads — completely useless — and take a photo. 

I must’ve been drugged, you thought, still feeling hazy. I should have called the cops the moment I realized something was off.

You got up and took off your socks, trying to stop the bleeding with it. It wasn’t the most hygienic, but it was all you had at the moment, and you weren’t about to tear off pieces of the shirt you had on, especially not when you were already shivering. 

The contraption had traveled with you, and though you were aware it was the reason you were here in the first place, you thought it better to bring it along, as evidence. You could show it to the government, and they could use their little science ways to find the culprit. All would be fine.

All will be fine.

You started walking. You didn’t have any shoes on for protection, so it was difficult to step across the dirt, with all its rocks and insects swarming about, but you managed to get to grass quick enough, and it felt much better, almost healing to walk barefoot on the softness of mother nature.

But you didn’t get very far. Eventually, your stomach started grumbling, and you felt like your intestines were twisting inside with desperation. Your sock was now red, and your hand was trembling, so with a defeated sigh, you let go, of both the sock and the heavy machine, allowing the blood to flow freely. You bent over to pick the sock back up first, but the sudden movement made your head reel, and before you knew it, you were out again.

+++

“You’re awake,” a voice said, a male’s voice, a British accent that sounded like butter. Oh, butter, if you could get your hands on that alone you would be satisfied. 

You opened your eyes, blinking. A figure, with pale skin and dark hair made it’s way over to you, and in a panic, you crawled away, eyes darting across the room. You were on a bed, bandages on your arm, but before you could calm down or even begin to think properly, panic took over, your heart rate elevated, and you sighed, before passing out again.

+++

For about the third time today, or however long you were out, you woke up. This time your vision was much clearer, but you still had this nasty migraine in your head. You were sick inside, the kind of sick that happens when you haven’t eaten in a while but can’t eat because you feel like you’ll throw up. 

You wondered if you were in the same place again. You remembered a man, with a soothing voice, but he wasn’t here right now. Though the possibility that you had been kidnapped entered your mind, you noticed the lack of bonds and chains on your body. He was probably just helping you, you reasoned.

You slowly got out of bed, wincing at the shooting pain in your arm. You observed your surroundings. The bedroom was very minimalist, and . . . quirky. You loved the design and the materials used, as it reminded you of a cottage, but there was nothing helpful in sight. All the technology you could see, like the kitchen, needed to be updated and was worn out. There was some type of record player, or CD tape, or whatever that was called, on one of the counters and a radio beside it. 

You didn’t bother with any of that. You were thirsty, throat dry and gnawing at you, so you went to look for water, hoping that whoever lived here didn’t go out and get it from a fucking well. He probably does. Look at this place!

“Shit!” you swore, your knees buckling from underneath you. You felt so weak and miserable and vulnerable. It hit you at this moment that you were probably a hundred miles away from home, in a strange place in a strange home you’d never seen before. How were you going to get back? What were you going to do?

Tears started welling in your eyes. You hated that you were being so emotional. Why couldn’t you toughen up and deal with the situation like a proper adult?

You leaned onto the counter, trying to balance yourself, when the front door opened up, and the man you saw before walked in, carrying a bag full of vegetables and other foods. He quickly placed the bag down and held you in his arms, his warmth comforting and relaxing.

He had short, dark hair, and a sharp jawline, and from this distance, you could see light freckles scattered across his cheeks. He had the most beautiful blue eyes you’d ever seen, like glaciers, like the ocean. Fuck, he was so handsome. 

“Here,” he said, guiding you back to the bedroom. He set you down on the bed, gazing at you with such intensity, like adoration or devotion. 

“W-who are you?” you asked, voice cracking. “Where am I? Hngh.” You rubbed your temples. Didn’t he have any pain medications?

“My name is William. William Killick,” the man introduced softly. “Don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you.” He went off into the kitchen and brought back a glass of water. You drank it slowly, the cool liquid flowing through your body, wetting your mouth. “I didn’t know if you had family nearby, so I took you to my place.”

William paused, as if thinking of what to say next. “Get more rest, it’s night.”

You hadn’t even noticed the time, but one look out the window told you he was right. It was pitch black outside.

“You’ll wake up tomorrow, and have some breakfast.”

You shook your head, and handed the glass back to him, only for him to set it down on the nightstand table. “Where’s my phone? Where’s my . . . box?”

He stared at you blankly, before clearing his throat. “Your stuff is in the back. I didn't know what it was — hey, don’t move.” William’s strong hands kept you in place, pushing you back down to the bed as gently as he could whilst still keeping a firm grip. “Rest,” he ordered. “Don’t need you fainting on me again.”

You wanted to argue, but you couldn’t. You laid your head on the pillow, without a choice but to trust William, and fell asleep, wrapping yourself in the blanket with a content sigh. All the questions you had, all the thoughts, faded away and were replaced by darkness.

+++

You dreamt of yourself and yourself. You, the spectator, were standing outside a window, but it wasn’t just any window. It was your window, the one that led to the inside of your bedroom, where you could see you and William — the strange man — entangled in the sheets. Lovers. You two were lovers. You two were making love. 

Anyone would have felt creepy watching someone else, and anyone would have noticed someone watching them, but none of that happened. The sun should have cast a shadow on you, but it didn't. The passerby should have called you out, but they didn’t. 

You had just enough awareness to realize that this was a dream. How were you back at home already? Why were you and William kissing?

While originally you felt nothing, like a simple observer without thoughts, you were suddenly flooded with heavy emotions. Confusion, shame, lust, confusion.

But in just a few moments, the world around you crumbled, like an earthquake, and the sun and moon passed by, stars moving across the heavens, and you were warped by time, back in the same place you were before. 

+++

You woke up with a gasp, cold sweat running down your body, and immediately William was by your side. You rested your head on his chest, grasping onto his shirt desperately, not wanting him to leave. 

“Shh, shh,” he cooed, running his fingers through your hair.

“Sorry,” you muttered, making no effort to leave his side. “I don’t know . . .”

“Shh.”

You both were like this for a while. Faint images of your dream passed through your mind, and from what little you remembered, you assumed it had been a wet dream. 

I can’t believe it, you thought. Having a wet dream — about a guy I barely met. Control yourself!

You pulled away, already missing his warmth. William frowned a little but didn’t say anything. “What’s your name, darling?” he asked. 

You hesitated.

“I told you, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“[Y/n],” you finally told him. “Where are we?”

William narrowed his eyes. You had a feeling he knew more than he was letting on, but you didn’t want to press.

“Wales,” William answered.

You froze. How the fuck did you get to Wales? What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

“Um, that’s nice,” you said awkwardly. “How long has it been since you found me?”

“A few days.”

You tried not to panic, but all you could think about was your job and your friends and your family. Have you been reported missing yet?

“You must be hungry,” William said. “I’ll cook something for you. I’m not the best, but I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

“It’s alright.” You waved his concern off, though it did tug at your heartstrings that he was worried. “I'll get some fast food.”

You dug through your pockets, hoping your wallet was still in there. Thankfully it was. You pulled it out and grabbed two crisp twenty-dollar bills, but William hissed and pushed it back in, his hand not leaving yours. 

“What are you doing carrying around that much money?” he asked, giving you an incredulous look. “How are you meant to protect yourself? Where’d you get that? Do you have a husband?”

You pushed his hand away. “I work. And what’s the problem?” 

You knew that the American dollar wasn’t equivalent to a British pound, but was the difference that bad? Sure, forty dollars was a lot of money if you were just going to a gas station or something, but nothing to get excited over. 

William huffed. “You can’t just show me that much money like that. What if I was a thief, hmm? What would you do then?”

“Are you?” you asked, not understanding why he was making such a big deal out of it.

“No. I’m a gentleman.”

You scoffed, amused, but there was a little smile on your face. “A gentleman?”

“Yes,” he insisted. “A proper man.”

There was a moment of silence between you both. You wanted him to hold you again, but you thought it would be best if you just went on your way. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, getting up from the bed. “And bandaging me and all.” You gave him one of the bills. “I know it’s in dollars, but I’m sure you can convert it.”

William didn’t take the money. “You’re not leaving — you’re still hurt. I’d be remiss if I let a lass half as pretty as you alone on the streets.”

You chalked up his way of talking to the region. You honestly found it quite attractive. That, coupled with his British accent, made you feel like you were in one of those romance movies. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t in love with you and that you were just acting irrational and horny.

“I’ll be fine. We’ll exchange numbers, do you have a charger?”

“What?”

“A phone charger. My phone’s probably dead.”

“The box?”

You narrowed your eyes. “No, the rectangle. The phone.”

“Ah, the one that glows?”

You briefly wondered if he simply didn’t know what a phone was. You knew some people preferred not to have modern technology in their life.

“Yes. I need to call someone — ”

“ — It stopped glowing.”

Great. William obviously didn’t have a charger. And if he didn’t know what it was, no one nearby would. All that was next to do would be to walk to a big city and hope someone there could help you get back home.

“Look, darling.” You ignored the way your heart fluttered when he called you that. “I don’t know what a phone is, or why you’re here, but I know that you still need to recover.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. “But I really have to go. I have work and — ”

“ — Surely you can take a day off. What is it you do?” William asked. 

“I’m a software developer. I code.”

William had a blank face. A pink blush dusted his cheeks. He cleared his throat, “I, er, I’ve never heard of that. You mean computers? The big ones that take up a room?”

“No, it’s not the fifties.”

“Well, 1946 is close.”

You didn’t know what to make of that. “What does 1946 have to do with this?”

William observed you intently. “The year. The year is 1946.”

You blinked. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be the 20th century — that was impossible. So many things were wrong with that. How come it was you who traveled in time? Why didn’t the government know about this? Even if you were ignoring the question of how, there were still so many whys.  

“No,” you said slowly, inching away from William. What kind of sick prank was this? He was supposed to be helping you, not confusing you. “You’re messing with me.”

William sensed that you were uncomfortable, because he backed away, his hands in the air. You could tell he was waiting for the perfect moment to get closer.

“I’m not a liar . . . Are you from the future?”

Fuck. You weren’t sure. How could that even be possible?

“No,” you said hesitantly. “I dunno, I must be . . .”

Your eyes subtly peered past William and at the door. If only you could get past him . . . 

You looked straight at the window, making sure to grab his attention. “Oh,” you whispered, putting on your best shocked expression. The moment he was distracted you sprinted past him and bolted out of the room and out the house, running across the field to the next house you could see. Your arm still hurt, but you were willing to shove down the pain.

“No, no, please!” William shouted, running after you. 

In just a minute, he had caught up to you and tackled you to the ground. He pinned your hands above your head and sat on your lower stomach, rendering you useless. His lips were so close to yours, and the look on his face was pissed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice forceful, gripping onto your wrists tighter. 

“P-please,” you pathetically sputtered out. “Don’t hurt me.”

He didn’t budge. “I’m trying to help you — I’m not lying to you, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me now,” you cried, squirming.

William’s eyes softened as he realized what he was doing. “You promise not to run again?”

You nodded, your lower lip wobbling. 

“Alright.”

He still didn’t let go of you, but he did pull you up from the ground, wiping the dirt off of your back. Tears flowed down your cheek like rainwater, and you couldn’t help but curl in on yourself.

William held onto your arm as he walked you back to the house, not allowing you another chance of escape, but he did wipe your tears gently and soothe you. You felt embarrassed. Why did you run? You had acted purely on instinct there. This man was clearly only trying to help. 

“Look,” he said softly, sitting you back down on the bed like a child. “I’ll take you into town, hmm? Show you around and all — maybe that’ll convince you. You must be quite far into the future to be dressing like that and to have a . . . phone with you, so things will be different, right? What year are you from?”

“. . . 2023.”

“I knew it. On your phone, there was a date. I wasn’t sure then, but . . .” William suddenly reached his hands up and rubbed his thumb across your chapped lips, catching you off guard. “They’re dry,” he said. “I’ll draw up a bath for you so you can bathe while I cook. I’ll get you some lotion afterward.”

You nodded. What else could you do?

+++

William had cooked some simple fish and chips while you cleaned yourself. You had to use a tin tub, which was insane to you, but you didn’t complain about it. He supplied you with clothing, an old-fashioned dress his mother had accidentally left here. You were grateful it was not from some ex-girlfriend or wife, even though you had no right to feel that way. You put aside your other clothes to wash later.

After finishing with that, you sat down at the dining table, and like the hungry girl you were, you gobbled the food down eagerly. It was so fresh and delicious, not at all like the food you had in the future, pumped with chemicals and artificially bred. You tried to be as neat as you could, but it was difficult when you were starving. William had watched on with amusement, telling you to slow down and straighten your back every once in a while.

He took the plates away when you both were done, and then did as he promised and gave you some lotion, but instead of letting you apply it, he took a bit of cream on his fingers and rubbed it on your lips. “Stay still,” he murmured. 

“I-I can do it—”

“No, you can’t. You’re still injured.”

You understood his reasoning. And you didn’t mind him touching you like that.

“The rest of my body is dry, too,” you blurted out.

What were you thinking? You didn’t even know this man. Trying to get him to touch the rest of your body — stupid girl.

William’s breathing hitched. “As in . . . your knees as well?”

“. . .”

He cleared his throat. “Well, then. Put them out, over my lap.”

You bit your lower lip, watching on as he rubbed his hands over your legs. His touch was so warm and it felt more like a massage. You felt bad about doing this, leading him on. If he was right about the time travel, then you couldn’t entertain any sort of relationship with him. It wouldn’t be fair. 

But it was just an act of service. It didn’t mean much, right?

“Oh, that’s nice,” you said, resting your head on the bed. You felt a bit off allowing a random man to do this to you, but he wasn’t random now, was he? He had saved you. And besides, he was he who insisted he rub the lotion in the first place.

“What is the future like?” William asked. “Is there another war?”

“Sort of. Not really,” you answered, which panicked William. “Don’t worry. If you’re talking about America and Russia, no one dies.”

William chuckled. “I should hope not. I don’t fancy serving in another world war.”

“You served?” you asked curiously. 

“Yes. As a captain in the British Army.”

You supposed it was normal. Most men in this time either signed up for the military or were drafted. You couldn’t imagine the horrors William must have gone through. You would never be able to understand the trauma he carried with him. You were curious, but you knew better than to ask. He didn’t need your pity, and you certainly didn’t want to offend him.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“For what?”

“That it had to happen. War and all that.”

“Does war not happen in the future?”

Now you felt a little stupid.

“Well — yes. It does. I’m just sorry. We learned about the world wars in history — and I just — I’m not claiming to know anything. Yeah, sorry.” You looked down.

William didn’t say anything to that. He just kept rubbing your dry skin. Afterward, he put the lotion away and sat next to you, running his fingers through your hair.

“I expect stories from you. I want to hear everything about the future.” 

You still didn’t believe you were in the past, at least, not completely.

 “You can tell me as we pass through town,” he added.

“I need to wash my clothes first.”

Willian narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to wear that anymore.”

“Why not?”

He pursed his lips. “It’s too revealing. A woman should never go out wearing those types of clothing.” He sighed. “Perhaps it’s different in the future, but here, you’ll get hurt if you dress like that.” He continued playing with your hair. “I want you to be safe. So, you have to promise me that you’ll stay by my side at all times, yes?”

You nodded. You always thought that if you caught men talking to you like this, you would slap them, but here you were, turned on by William’s sexism. It was different, you reasoned. He was more focused on protecting you than restricting you. Was it bad that you found that hot?

“Good girl,” he said proudly. “Good girl.”

+++

Walking through town had been more of a frightening experience than you expected. You realized, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were indeed in the past. Producing a prank with this level of investment and money was pointless, and you never had any mental issues in the past, so why would one suddenly show up now? And even if it did, you couldn’t possibly be imagining this all in your head. 

All the cars were shiny and new, yet old models, ones that wouldn’t be produced in the future. All the women and men wore traditional clothing, like the dress William picked out for you. The hairstyles were medium-length and curled, or slicked back, with lots of gel and products used to keep them in place. You were grateful William didn’t ask you to do any of that. Not that you would have let him. At a certain point, you would have drawn a line.

“I have to get back,” you told William as you walked on a trail. “The machine has something to do with it. I just have to figure out how it works.”

“That’s an engineering job,” he pointed out.

“I’m good at math and science. I work in advanced technology, so I should be able to figure something out. All it needs is a bit of testing . . . I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while until I figure out a place to stay. I’ll give you all the money I have and I promise I’ll find a job — ”

“ — No need. Stay as long as you like. I don’t want your money. I won’t stop you from finding a job, but it’s not necessary. I can handle any expenses.”

You didn’t argue with him. He didn’t seem averse to the idea of letting a stranger stay at his place. It made sense. People in this time were more hospitable and open (at least, when they felt like it), and William, being a man from the forties, would never allow you to carry any of the financial burden.

You still felt a little bad. 

“Thank you. It means a lot to me. Now, what is it you want to hear about the future?”

William’s eyes lit up excitedly. “Do flying cars exist?”

You chuckled. “No. But we have self-driving ones.”

“Self-driving? How do they work?”

You paused. You had no idea. “I’m not sure. They probably have sensors to detect other cars. And, well, there’s a map. So it’s connected to a satellite . . .”

“Satellite?”

“It’s this thing in space. It does . . . stuff. It’s manmade.”

“Space? Have we discovered alien life?”

“No. But we have sent rovers to Mars and we’ve landed a person on the moon.”

William stopped walking. “The moon?” he repeated, bewildered. “Have you gone?”

I wish. “It’s only for astronauts. You have to be trained for that sort of stuff.”

“And when did this all happen?”

“Around the 1960s. There was a space race between America and Russia, and America won.”

Once you got the ball rolling, William would not stop asking questions. You answered them as best as you could and avoided topics like the current political climate and weaponry and all that. After he was done with all the serious stuff, like advancements in science and whether robots had taken over the world yet, he moved on to more social and cultural topics. You were relieved to find out that he wasn’t racist or homophobic or incredibly misogynistic. If anything he was rather tame about it all, and was glad that women had earned more rights, though he seemed upset that the dynamic of a gentlemanly husband and lady-like housewife wasn’t pushed upon society. 

“There’s nothing wrong with things going the opposite way around,” he had said. “Two people of the same gender marrying. It’s only that women need to be looked after, and if she doesn’t want to work, then it is her man’s obligation to do it for her. And in return, she must be obedient and serve him whenever he pleases — whether it’s by cleaning the house or . . . other things.”

“And what if she doesn’t want it?” you questioned, referring to the other things.

“A man should always make sure she likes it.”

You could practically feel all the feminism leaving your body at that.

The conversation ended when you reached back home (home? It’s not your home, you reminded yourself). William replaced your bandages with care. You were already starting to feel better, since the cut wasn’t too big, and you offered to help with cooking dinner this time.

After that, you decided to tinker with the box.

It was made out of some type of metal, with two different dials on the top and a button on the side. But it wasn’t like anything you’d ever seen before. The first dial went from zero to nine (zero being nulla) in Roman numerals, and had four hands, each of them colored in order: red, green, blue, and yellow. Respectively, there were four tiny colored knobs on the side, like the ones by a watch, where you could move each hand. The other dial was the same case.

“It must be the date,” you said aloud to yourself. “But which is which?”

Taking a gamble, you pressed the button, but it didn’t do anything. All it did was signal a small lens to start blinking red. 

“Are you sure you should do that now?” William asked, coming up from behind you. “Look at this.” He crouched to your level on the floor. “Your eyes have bags underneath them. You’re still tired.”

You rubbed the area beneath your eyes. Did they really have bags? You hadn’t realized.

“I should probably go to sleep then,” you said, putting the box down and getting up.

William walked you over to the bedroom, and was about to leave when you asked, “Where are you sleeping?”

“The couch.”

You frowned. “It’s your house and I’m your guest. You’ve already done so much for me – ”

“— If you’re going to suggest you sleep on the couch, then it’s a no. That’s final.”

“But — ”

“ — Final.”

You sighed. “Then come sleep with me. I’ll stay on the floor—”

“ — No—”

“ — Then we can share the bed. We’ll put a wall of pillows between us, like this.” You grabbed a pillow and placed it in the middle of the bed, separating the two sides. “Not so bad, see?”

William relented. “Alright.”

He crawled into bed with you. His hair fell over his face as he adjusted, and the last rays of sunlight coated his body in colors of orange and yellow. If your phone wasn’t dead, you would have asked him to sit still for a picture, because at this moment, he truly looked breathtaking. He was a beautiful man. You wondered if he knew it.

“What?” William asked when he noticed you staring.

Flustered, you turned your head to look up at the ceiling. “Nothing. I was just making sure you were comfy.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see William lick his lower lip. 

“You’re a sweet lass,” he commented. “You always think about others first.”

He reached over, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you (which, admittedly, despite having had a wet dream about him, scared you), but he only brushed a small speck of dust off your shoulders and murmured “Goodnight”, before burying his chin into the blanket and drifting off into sleep.

You followed in suit soon after. A part of you was hoping that you could start a life here. You’d buy a nice house and live out a simple and peaceful life. You and William didn’t even have to be romantically involved. You could just be friends, and you would be happy with that. 

But a part of you also hoped that when you woke up the next morning you would be back in your own bed, in your small one-story house that you remember being so excited about buying. You knew you would never like living here in the long term. There were too many things wrong with this time and you didn’t want to be the brunt of its issues. Not only that but being aware of all the tragedies that would soon occur . . . Did you want to be faced with the moral dilemma of whether or not you should stop them? How would your presence affect things in the future? After living your whole life in 2023, you could never adjust to life in 1946. 

You had to find a way back. There was simply no other choice. 

+++

William showed you many things. Just as he was interested in the future, you were interested in the past. The things that excited you most of all were old-school versions of what you had in the future. Washing machines, refrigerators — they were all so different, yet the same, and it was fascinating. 

You even met a few people in town. They were nice enough to hold a conversation with, though they found it weird that you lacked decorum and the social understanding of the time. The women were chatty and mildly passive-aggressive, and the men — well, the men flirted with you quite openly.

William had told people that you were family, someone related but not close enough to be bothered with technical terms like cousin or niece. No one asked questions when you two explained it like that. All the men must have thought that if you were his family and that if you had no ring on your finger you must be looking for a partner.

You were charmed by their advances, but never serious about them. Besides, William hardly let them get a word in before he shooed them away.

By the time weeks and weeks had passed you became acquainted with everyone, seen every sight to see — including the swan lake William took you to — and become close enough to William that he opened up to you. You learned that while he wasn’t an orphan, his parents never held much interest in him other than the occasional birthday letter, and the reason he came out here so far away from the city was to find peace of mind.

You grew to admire him, and you were sure he grew to admire you, too. And soon, you started to feel a certain type of way. A way that made you daydream about all the things that could be, only for reality to stomp across it and remind you of the harsh truth. 

+++

William was driving a car, a modern car, your car. He was humming a little tune on the radio, singing some lyrics, hands loosely holding the wheel as he passed by a gas station. It was some Taylor Swift song, and you remember faintly thinking: Of course, he likes Taylor Swift.

He looked over to you. You were sitting by his side, a passenger princess, looking out the window. All of a sudden it was night and you two were driving down a lonely road, parking by the side of some lake. In the distance, you could hear crickets and ribbits, but you paid them no mind.

You were curled up in William’s arms, looking out the sunroof of the car, the light of the moon gently descending through the glass. You offered him a piece of chocolate, and you two just sat there, in the dark, nibbling on snacks and observing the sky, until you woke up.  

+++

William had to leave for work, like usual. He again told you not to leave his property line or stray out too far, which, again, was fine by you because most days were cold and bitter.

You spent your time messing around with the box, careful not to touch the wires in the back. Once you put your mind to it, you figured out how it worked. You paid attention to where the hands were currently located and found something promising. The first dial’s hands had the numbers I, IX, IV, and VI, and the second dial was nulla, IX, nulla, and V. Alone, you wouldn’t have been able to tell what the numbers meant, but with context, you understood. The first dial was the year, and the second one was the month and date.

You didn’t quite understand how the box brought you from the future, but that didn’t matter, as it was broken. There was a little loose piece on the backside that had been damaged — a little dent, probably when you were first transported here. All you had to do was plug it back in, but the only problem was, you didn’t have a screwdriver, and you certainly weren’t going to wrench your fingers near a bunch of wires.

When William came back you told him your solution. He agreed and said that tomorrow he would take you to a local store to buy a screwdriver, and he even apologized for not having one in his house. But for now, he said he wanted to take you out to lunch.

“Lunch?” you questioned nervously. Was he asking you out on a date?

You thought about it for a moment. You did want to go, but your mind was too preoccupied with getting back to your time. Besides, it wasn’t fair to him. You did like him, but you two could never actually be together. It was all in your head.

It’s all in your head.

“You know I’ll have to go back someday,” you said, watching William’s expression become more neutral as if he was hiding his emotions. “I dunno . . . I’m getting a little attached to you,” you said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

William seemed to understand where you were going with this. “It won’t be like that. I wouldn’t blame you,” he said earnestly, taking a step forward. “We ought to enjoy our time together, while it’s still here.”

He made a valid point, enough to convince you. He had been doing that an awful lot. Convincing you. 

William took you out to a nice restaurant. The food was a bit plain, but it was good and wholesome. It reminded you a lot of William’s cooking, only fancier and more well-presented. Not only that, but the atmosphere felt calming and almost romantic. You noticed that most of the people here were couples, holding hands and giggling with each other, however young or old.

Was this William’s intention? Did he like like you? Or was this just him being courteous? You couldn’t imagine that many people here were used to dating or one-night stands. But you wouldn’t know unless you asked him, and you were too nervous to do that. Besides, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. William was a very traditional man, would he even want a woman like you? A 21st-century girl?

After you two were finished eating you engaged in another walk. 

“Come closer,” William said, holding out his arm for you to take. If you didn’t have any self-control, you would have jumped his bones right then and there. He was right. He was a gentleman. No man in the future would have done this for you unless they were trying to make a joke out of it.

You placed your hand on William’s arm hesitantly, trying to figure out the exact placement, walking side by side with him. It was a little cold, however, and you shivered, catching William’s attention almost instantly.

“Oh, you poor thing,” William cooed, talking of his coat and wrapping it around you. It smelled of him, a little musky, smoky like a cigarette, but in a very subtle way. “You’re so nervous. Have you never had a man do this for you?” he asked. “Hold out his arm for you to take, give you his coat?”

“No,” you admitted. “Men don’t do that in the future.”

“I do,” he said, stopping both of you in your tracks. The area was secluded, mostly covered in trees and bushes, far away from any passerby. “I would do that for my woman.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Well,” you said, wistfully, “whoever she is she’ll be a lucky woman.”

+++

William took you to a local shop to buy a screwdriver next. It all felt very domestic, something that you could get used to. You imagined running errands like this with William in the future. He would be absolutely fascinated by a grocery store, by the internet, by everything. If you thought hard, you could see it — a wondrous smile on his face, a giggle escaping his lips. 

You tried not to think of it that much. After your fantasy passed your thoughts turned sad and cold, because you knew that would never happen. It will never happen. As much as you liked William, you missed your family, you missed your house, you missed everything.

When you both got back home, you plugged the broken piece in and screwed the nail. William watched on beside you, a frown on his face, drinking some tea.

“Here,” he said, inching closer, “I don’t want you exerting pressure on your arm. Let me do it.”

He grabbed a hold of the screwdriver, but he bumped into you in the process. With a gasp, he dropped his cup of tea. It shattered across the floor, glass pieces flying every, hot liquid (thankfully not boiling) splashing all over. You shrieked and backed away, watching as one of the glass shards cut right through one of the wires.

“William!” you snapped, but then your eyes turned watery, because of the cut on your hand.

He immediately went over to you, careful not to step on any glass, and picked you up bridal style, moving you away from the mess and towards the couch. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, looking panicked. “It was an honest mistake — I’m so so sorry, I can’t believe I just did that — are you hurt?”

You laughed at the absurdity of it all, even though you were clutching your finger in pain. It was a very small cut, something that would be healed within a day. “Calm down, William. I’m fine. Are you hurt?”

He shook his head, looking worried, or perhaps, scared was the right word. Yet, you couldn’t figure out why.

“William,” you said slowly. “It’s fine. You do realize we can just fix the wire? I just need a heat-shrinking tube and a soldering iron, nothing I haven’t done before.”

“. . . Oh.”

His tone made you wonder about his intentions. You’d been so caught up on how good of a person he was, helping you and giving you room and food, but really, what was his motive? Because it almost felt like he was trying to get you to stay . . . It sent a sinister feeling down your spine, albeit a tug on your heartstrings as well.

What do you want from me, William? What do you want?

+++

More time had passed. It was difficult to acquire things in this small town, and it occurred to you that such resources were not readily available at this time. You didn’t want to bother William by pestering him to go into the city for materials, so while you would bring up the topic every once in a while, you mostly kept quiet.

You took the chance to relish your break. After all, you weren’t working. It was like a fully paid vacation, so you might as well take advantage of it.

William still had a job, but when he came back, you two would just talk and talk and talk, conversations so smoothly flowing that it felt like you’d known him for years. When you weren’t talking, you were still in each other’s presence, doing your own thing. Occasionally, William would make sneaky moves like wrap his arm around your shoulder, or do the la bise. He claimed he was part French, and it was part of his custom, but even if that were true, you knew the la bise didn’t involve full-on smooches on the cheek.

You never stopped him from doing things like that, but you also never reciprocated, despite how badly you wanted to. All this stalling wouldn’t change the fact that you still had to leave. Not only that, but you were starting to feel homesick. 

You missed calling your friends late at night, you missed watching colored TV, and you missed hot showers. You missed easy-access painkillers for your periods, and searching all your queries on the internet. You missed the future. Badly. And you could just feel that the day of return was near.

+++

“You dance, yes?”

Snapped out of your thoughts, you turned to William. You were both lounging on his couch, relaxing, talking, as the time passed by. He had given you a magazine to read, but you weren’t reading it, just dozing off.

You shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve gone to clubs. But — no, I can’t dance like that — William,” you whined, half-heartedly struggling as he pulled you up to you feet. “I’m going to ruin it, I don’t know where to place my feet or — ”

“ — You could never ruin anything, darling. Your presence alone is enough to satisfy me.” 

You looked away. “You can’t say things like that, William.”

“Why not?”

You took his hands off you before he could even start the music. 

“I don’t like it,” you lied.

William frowned. “That’s alright. Let me hold you. I know you enjoy that.” He chuckled. “When we first met you wouldn’t let go of me.”

The memory, still fresh in your mind, made you flustered. 

“. . . William, what do you want from me?” you decided to ask.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean — what do you want from me?”

William licked his lower lip. “Nothing. I just want to take care of you.”

“But why?”

You could practically feel William’s nervousness. It was like when he dropped that glass. He radiated an almost jumbled energy, a desperate energy.

“Haven’t I made it more obvious?” he finally said, his hands on your waist. He brought his fingers up to brush the hair out of your face. “Am I not clear?”

You knew what he was going to say. But you wanted to hear it from him. “Clear about what?”

“I want you.” Your heart started beating. “I don’t care if you’re not from this time. I don’t care if you have a life in the future — I can be better. I can be your life.”

“. . . William.”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” he said, tilting your chin up so you could look him in the eyes. “I know you want me too. I can see it.”

“But we can’t,” you weakly protested.

“So is this what you do?” His tone grew more sharp. “Imagine things in your head and never act on them?”

You stayed silent. He was putting you in such a difficult position, couldn’t he see that?

“What’s wrong?” he continued. “Am I not good enough?”

“William,” you tried to pull away. “I have to go — ”

He locked you in his arms. Your body was so close your noses were brushing up against each other, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe you’re worried I can’t please you right.”

You could have shouted. Why was he being so forceful? You ignored the way your body grew warm — you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t and so you wouldn’t. 

“I don’t want it,” you lied again.

“Well, I told you, a wife should always submit to her husband’s desires.”

“We’re not married!”

“We will be.”

You froze.

William took your silence as an opportunity. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, turning his head slightly as his hand rested on the back of your head. You were caught off guard but didn’t try to push away. It felt so nice, and warm and inviting. Why you were denying yourself this? Why were you denying yourself love?

When your lips parted, a string of saliva connecting you both, you placed your hands on his chest. You had an idea. A brilliant idea. Why hadn’t you thought of this before? “William. I still have to go, but — ”

He growled and lifted you up, carrying you over to his bedroom, tossing you onto the bed, and pinning you down on the mattress. “No. I won’t let you. I won’t let you! Don’t you understand? I’m perfect for you — I can — I can.” He looked miserable. In fact, he looked like he was about to cry. “Let me show you,” he said, determined. He started unbuckling his belt with one hand. “Let me show you what I can do.”

You hadn’t realized how hard William was, but when he finally took out his cock — fat and pale, with pre-cum leaking at the tip, his balls a little hairy, you gulped, the area between your legs getting wetter.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered. “And lift up that damn dress.”

You didn’t. To be honest, you were a little frightened by his behavior.

William sighed and did it for you, spreading your legs apart, only for you to shut them close. “You don’t even have a condom!”

“I’ll put out,” he said impatiently, forcing your legs apart again. You gasped, not expecting contact to be made so soon.

He rubbed his cock against your wet cunt, soaking himself. He had this satisfied smile on his face, eyes closed for just a moment, before he looked down at you. 

“I thought I’d have to warm you up a little,” he said. “You’re beau — stop it! Don’t struggle.”

He held your arms down as you writhed. “Please, William — I believe you,” you said. “You can fuck me good. Just listen — ”

William shook his head. “You’re the one who's supposed to listen. Listen and take it.”

With that, he pushed his cock in and started thrusting, hard and fast, your hands still pinned, his face contorted in pleasure. His moans were loud and shameless. He had his head right above yours, peppering small kisses on your lips. You tried to ignore how good it felt — him inside of you, but it was becoming increasingly difficult by the moment. 

“Ah, I knew you weren’t a virgin,” he said, noticing the lack of blood or discomfort. “That’s okay — I still love you.”

“Love?” you repeated, trying to focus, but your abilities were lost when he used his thumb to rub your clit. “Wa-a-it!”

“Don’t say that,” William said, his tone surprisingly soft given how rough his movements were. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought you didn’t want it. Just enjoy. Enjoy me.”

The bed was starting to creak, moving back and forth, rubbing up against the wood floor. Your breasts were bouncing, catching William’s eyes every once in a while. His cock slid in and out of you with precision, hitting that swollen part inside of you every time. His thumb on your clit only added to the intense sensation. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you stopped struggling. You let your head hit the pillow, mouth parted, breathing heavy and hot. At the same time, you were overcome with a feeling of hurt. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it, but for him to take you so forcibly . . . and for you to actually like it . . .

“Are you alright?” he asked, slowing down his pace a little. He looked you in the eyes. “Do you feel good?”

You thought about lying, about crying out No, please stop!, but that wasn’t the truth, and in the end, your desires overcame you. “Y-yes. I want more.”

William relaxed, and his grip on you loosened. He placed one hand on your hip, the other by the side of your head. 

“You’re beautiful,” he praised. “Every day I look at you and think of how grateful I am that I found you. Laying there in that field, little flowers around you. An angel. My angel.”

You wanted to tell him how grateful you were, too. That it was him who took you in and not someone else, but the words never came out, only sighs and moans, but he seemed to understand what you were trying to say. 

Another kiss.

“You’re soaking me. You’re soaking the sheets.”

A little embarrassed, you turned your head. “M’sorry.”

William forced you to look back at him. “Don’t be sorry. I like knowing how eager you are for me.” 

Another kiss, but this time he slipped his tongue in, sweeping against yours before he pulled away, a string of saliva breaking as he did.

“We’ll live here,” he continued, his thrusts becoming more erratic, “in this house. Together. I’ll take you to the movies, we’ll have picnics in the garden, and I’ll write you love songs on the piano. We’ll have children — a girl, I hope — and she’ll look just like you. It’ll be wonderful,” he promised. “I’ll make you so happy, and you’ll make me happy, too.”

You couldn’t help but ruin the moment. “If I did that I would never see my parents again.”

He frowned and didn’t say anything. Then, “I think you’re getting agitated. You need to come, that’s it. You need to come and then you’ll finally understand what it is you’ll be missing out on if you leave.”

“T-that’s not the point — ”

“ — I’m so close,” he murmured. “Fill you up, so damn tight. Ah, you’re perfect.”

When you realized what he meant your eyes widened and you shook your head adamantly. “You said you’d pull out!”

“That was before. I’ve changed my mind.”

You felt familiar pressure build up inside of you. You could imagine yourself, breasts big with milk, belly round and smooth, William reading children’s books to your unborn baby as if he could be heard. The thought alone made you sickly sweet, the idea that life between you and him could be so domestic.

But couldn’t he just wait for a moment?

“I’ll — ah — be with you — every step of the way,” he grunted. “I won’t leave you. So, don’t be scared.”

“William,” you said shakily. “Just listen — ”

But it was too late. Collapsing on top of you, William poured his hot seed inside your cunt, his whimper addicting, like it was something you could hear a thousand times over. A few seconds later, you fell victim to the same fate, and there you two lay, with each other, chests heaving, bodies sweaty and sticky, coming down from the heights of ecstasy. 

You could feel his heart pound against yours. Thump, thump, thump. And you could feel yours as well. To think that this man had just gotten you pregnant. It all happened so quickly. It happened so quickly and you were completely fine with it.

“William,” you said after finally catching your breath, turning to face him. “You know I still have to go.”

It was his turn to cry. His tears watered up, glassy, his lower lip trembling, but you could tell he was doing his best to keep it in. “But I love you,” he whispered. “Am I not enough?”

It broke your heart to see him like this. So vulnerable in front of you. It was then you knew you were making the right choice, a hundred percent. You had finally found your match. And to think that you almost let him go . . . 

“But I want you to come with me,” you said, hopeful. “Come with me, William. Come with me to the future.”

Taglist: @henrywintersdearestgirl @shroombloom-rry @meetmeatyourworst @mrkdvidal1989 @madnessandobsession @slut4thebroken @qqquartz7 @madeinuk

[cathedral-of-the-forest]

“What can they do?” “What can we do?”

I don’t know how many democrats and pundits I have heard say this, but here a few things you can do.

1. How about fighting back. You show me the bully who didn’t need a bloody nose and a black eye to change their ways. Call me when you find them, it’ll take a while.

2. stand on the floor of the house and senate and read the numbers of people who will be or are unemployed because of this thoughtless blunt force trauma. Not just the government workers, but construction workers, factory workers, and others who work on government funded projects.

3. Check number 2, except read the name of every veteran who has lost their job, making special note of those with a Purple Heart, Bronze Star W/V device, Silver Star, Distinguished Service Cross, or Medal of Honor.

4. Visit every farming and agriculture dependent county in the whole damned county, and explain to them how many jobs and how much revenue mindless funding cuts and tariffs are going to cost them, and ask them what they actually need for help.

5. Do the same thing in every country in the rust belt and the coal belt. And again ask them for what they actually need for help.

6. Visit Black, Brown, and immigrant communities and ask them where the disconnect is. What the Democratic Party has done to lose them, and not done to keep them? Listen.

For fuck’s sake, this is not rocket science. You shouldn’t need someone who isn’t even a Democrat or liberal to tell you this shit.

[hunny-pp]

PENACONY 2.1 SPOILERS /

[basically a more elaborate version of my twt thread on this]

I don't think I'm the first or only person to say this, but I do think Gallagher is v likely a memory zone meme

EDIT: heres pt 1.2 with additional evidence

Sunday deduces that Gallagher is an amalgamation of fifty-one Family members, who he's inherited physical traits from to create the appearance he has now.

Gallagher alludes in his own story that he may not be human

In short, Memory Zone Memes are amalgamations of multiple fragments of the Memory Zone, all have reflections of different memories, cognitions and emotions.

A meme in definition is when something, usually ideas, culture or behaviour is passed to another person through imitation or non-genetic means.

It makes sense for Gallagher, as he mimicked the physical traits of Family members without taking them or that trait away - these NPCs are very much fine and you can interact with them. It's more like a copy-paste onto himself.

Other little details include: -This could change in the future depending on if we get any fire units, but for Gallagher specifically, he takes the Raging Heart materials - which is harvested from a Memory Zone Meme-type enemy. This one's a bit of a stretch but it fits nonetheless

-His signature colour is magenta - shown in his clothing, his marketing materials and in the VFX of his attacks, his claw and his brew. This colour is specifically his and not something he had inherited from someone else.

Memory Zone Memes, especially "Something Upon Death" have stark magenta/purple/pink eyes and cores. When seen from afar or at least in a general sense, the shades are similar enough

-The writing style of Gallagher's stories feel strange, like different aspects of Gallagher's personality and life are on the outside looking in. Akin to a reflective surface giving off different reflections from different angles of the same subject. It adds to the idea that there are multiple aspects and fragments within Gallagher all looking within each other.

Mixology and The Dreamjolt Hostelry:

Gallagher's main interest outside of work is mixology. Like any culinary craft, there's an inherent science behind it, and it takes a lot of work and knowledge to craft well constructed cocktails and drinks. Symbolically, mixology complements Gallagher, as he himself is a combination of a diverse range of people. When you view these inherited traits isolated, you know they come from someone real - but when put together, they form One Complete Gallagher - cohesive and seamless.

While you can say the same for different branches of culinary arts, mixology in particular symbolically represents Gallagher the most. This is just from a layman's perspective but when I view the same with cocktails - from a general inspection it's one cohesive drink even if from taste or watching the process, I know it's all made with different components.

Notably, when Gallagher talks about mixing drinks, he describes it as akin to combining different emotions, experiences and memories into a singular cocktail and it's reflective of both customer and bartender's own current state of being.

His philosophy on mixology links back to the concept of Memory Zone Memes, manifestations of fragmented memories, emotions and cognitions nestled into a vessel.

The reason why I bring up the Dreamjolt Hostelry is because of the Vignettes in a Cup event (spoilers for it). It's not explicit in his stories or voicelines, but going by the Trailblaze quest, it's implied that the Dreamjolt Hostelry is the lounge/bar he regulars for a drink or to hone his craft as he's v friendly and familiar to Siobhan and is seen in the 2.1 trailer to be serving a Dreamjolt Domescreen (whether it's Lady or not doesn't matter).

Dreamjolt Hostelry is in the sealed off dreamscape Reverie, where the corrupted Dreamjolt Troupe monsters and Memory Zone Memes reside. Notably, where you encounter Something Unto Death in key moments of the story.

I'd like to believe Gallagher is very comfortable with the company of monsters, going by the fact that he himself is non-human.

In Vignettes in a Cup, Siobhan explains that the reason why she mixes drinks for the Dreamjolt Troupe monsters is that it helps regulate their emotions - since the dreamscape is falling apart and in turn they have become unstable.

Gallagher himself in one of his idle animations drinks an unknown concoction from his hipflask once his scar starts acting up - in which it settles back down. It's hard to discern in this point in time how long this has been going for, but as a non-human entity (meme or not), the dreamscape's decay is also likely affecting Gallagher and thus he has to regulate himself.

Why Do The Heathen Rage?: In the mission "Why Do The Heathen Rage?" we learn a lot of the Watchmaker's secret history as well as a general run through of Gallagher's own personal story.

First off, a lot of Penacony's trailblaze mission titles are references to songs, literature and media relevant to the themes of Penacony and/or by American classical authors or poets (ie Heaven is a Place on Earth, Cat Among Pigeons, The Tell-Tale Heart).

Why Do The Heathen Rage is both based on Psalm 2.1 Old Testament, but also it's a fragment of an unfinished novel by Flannery O'Connor. Fragment of a novel -> Gallagher is made of fragments of different people -> Memory Zone Memes are fragments of (I'm booed off the stage for being a broken record).

The story tells of a man called Walter Tilman who lives on his family's farm. There he starts to write letters to different people - particularly to Oona Gibbs, a black civil rights activist. However, he writes to her under the guise of a black man, and writes with the intention of testing the commitment and integrity of her beliefs.

Going with what we know in hindsight, Gallagher is masquerading around as a human, likely as a Memory Zone Meme as we've realised hopefully by now that they're the monsters most likely to pull something of Gallagher's calibre off.

This is all I'm gonna talk about from "Why Do The Heathen Rage" mainly because my additional theories are based off leaks and are more speculative.

Bonus section: "Something Unto Death" When it comes to Gallagher's connection to the Memory Zone Meme "Something Unto Death", a lot comes from his many symbols of death. This is just a bit of a bonus since we're talking about Gallagher likely being a Memory Zone Meme, we might as well address the elephant in the room as well.

For brevity, we'll call the little guy "Death Meme". Death Meme is a Memory Zone Meme created from the Dreamscape's fear of death and murder as "death" shouldn't be something that can happen in the dreamscape.

Gallagher has a FUCK ton of symbolism and nods to death. The most striking is that Gallagher's iconic "I'm Thirteen", which is the number for the Major Arcana "Death". (For additional reference I also think Thirteen could be the amount of Amber Eras he's lived in, or that he's at least 1300 years old. Also since he has a lot of dog theming, 13 dog years in human years is around 60-80 depending on the dog's size).

Additionally, thirteen is a common number to represent bad omens and misfortune - namely the well known Friday the 13th superstition, amongst other things.

When Gallagher makes you a drink, no matter what choices you make - the cocktail will have a memento mori/death/morbidly themed name and he will accompany most of them with a sardonic toast.

Gallagher's eidolons are names of different cocktails which fit his mixology theme. However, Corpse Reviver, Last Word, Death in the Afternoon and Blood and Sand are all death centric names, as if he couldn't get edgier enough.

There's also the call into question his playstyle, where he's a much more aggressive battle healer than the likes of Luocha and is the first abundance character to provide debuffs on the enemy, and derives healing through damaging opponents.

Conclusion: If you've read this far then I'm assuming you're as normal about Gallagher as I am. But yeah, there is so much to him I haven't touched on, his connections to the Enigmata, my continuation on this theory based on leaks and his shared past with Mikhail, what I think he'll do in the plot moving forward. This patch and its characters are themed around hiding secrets and that there's more than meets the eye. Gallagher in particular has proved to be the most mysterious of the trio, as while we've gotten a clear enough picture of both Acheron and Aventurine but there's still enough intrigue to keep them going, Gallagher's just given me more questions than answers man.

[helldivers-2]

MAJOR ORDER:

The Center of Science on Fenrir III has come under attack by the Illuminate. Simultaneously, the Illuminate have struck Pilen V, the construction site of the Repulsive Gravity Field Generator.

The enemy's objective is clear: jeopardize our efforts to halt the Meridian Singularity. This attack proves the rightness of our efforts, and the desperation of the Illuminate, to finally strike so close to the Federation rather than sparsely-populated colonies.

The Helldivers must defend these critical sites. More attacks on other planets may come.

This also presents an opportunity, however: with enough specimens, our scientists may be able to further investigate how the Illuminate are able to control the minds of the Voteless. A thorough understanding of this technology would allow counter-measures to be developed to protect our innocent citizens.

[compneuropapers]

Interesting Papers for Week 22, 2025

Reaching Distance Influences Perceptual Decisions. Assarioti, E. E., van Beers, R. J., Smeets, J. B. J., & van Wijk, B. C. M. (2025). European Journal of Neuroscience, 61(3).

Detection of latent brain states from spontaneous neural activity in the amygdala. Aucoin, A., Lin, K. K., & Gothard, K. M. (2025). PLOS Computational Biology, 21(2), e1012247.

Repeated stress gradually impairs auditory processing and perception. Bisharat, G., Kaganovski, E., Sapir, H., Temnogorod, A., Levy, T., & Resnik, J. (2025). PLOS Biology, 23(2), e3003012.

A neuronal code for object representation and memory in the human amygdala and hippocampus. Cao, R., Brunner, P., Chakravarthula, P. N., Wahlstrom, K. L., Inman, C., Smith, E. H., Li, X., Mamelak, A. N., Brandmeir, N. J., Rutishauser, U., Willie, J. T., & Wang, S. (2025). Nature Communications, 16, 1510.

Contextual neural dynamics during time perception in the primate ventral premotor cortex. Díaz, H., Bayones, L., Alvarez, M., Andrade-Ortega, B., Valero, S., Zainos, A., Romo, R., & Rossi-Pool, R. (2025). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 122(6), e2420356122.

Attention Rhythmically Shapes Sensory Tuning. Galas, L., Donovan, I., & Dugué, L. (2025). Journal of Neuroscience, 45(7), e1616242024.

A detailed theory of thalamic and cortical microcircuits for predictive visual inference. George, D., Lázaro-Gredilla, M., Lehrach, W., Dedieu, A., Zhou, G., & Marino, J. (2025). Science Advances, 11(6).

Time Course of Orientation Ensemble Representation in the Human Brain. Gong, X., He, T., Wang, Q., Lu, J., & Fang, F. (2025). Journal of Neuroscience, 45(7), e1688232024.

Comprehensive exploration of visual working memory mechanisms using large-scale behavioral experiment. Huang, L. (2025). Nature Communications, 16, 1383.

Hippocampal damage disrupts the latent decision-making processes underlying approach-avoidance conflict processing in humans. Le Duc, W., Butler, C. R., Argyropoulos, G. P. D., Chu, S., Hutcherson, C., Ruocco, A. C., Ito, R., & Lee, A. C. H. (2025). PLOS Biology, 23(2), e3003033.

The geometry of correlated variability leads to highly suboptimal discriminative sensory coding. Livezey, J. A., Sachdeva, P. S., Dougherty, M. E., Summers, M. T., & Bouchard, K. E. (2025). Journal of Neurophysiology, 133(1), 124–141.

Fixational eye movements as active sensation for high visual acuity. Nghiem, T.-A. E., Witten, J. L., Dufour, O., Harmening, W. M., & Azeredo da Silveira, R. (2025). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 122(6), e2416266122.

Inferring when to move. Parr, T., Oswal, A., & Manohar, S. G. (2025). Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews, 169, 105984.

Modular Maximization Theory: A functional account of economic behavior in laboratory animal models with applications to drug-seeking behavior. Sanabria, F., Gildea, M., Gutiérrez, B., Santos, C., & Hibshman, A. (2025). Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews, 169, 106010.

Hexagons all the way down: grid cells as a conformal isometric map of space. Schøyen, V. S., Beshkov, K., Pettersen, M. B., Hermansen, E., Holzhausen, K., Malthe-Sørenssen, A., Fyhn, M., & Lepperød, M. E. (2025). PLOS Computational Biology, 21(2), e1012804.

Active vision in freely moving marmosets using head-mounted eye tracking. Singh, V. P., Li, J., Dawson, K., Mitchell, J. F., & Miller, C. T. (2025). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 122(6), e2412954122.

The receptive field construction of midget ganglion cells in primate retina. Somaratna, M. A., & Freeman, A. W. (2025). Journal of Neurophysiology, 133(1), 268–285.

Contributions of Attention to Learning in Multidimensional Reward Environments. Wang, M. C., & Soltani, A. (2025). Journal of Neuroscience, 45(7), e2300232024.

A biological model of nonlinear dimensionality reduction. Yoshida, K., & Toyoizumi, T. (2025). Science Advances, 11(6).

Computational mechanism underlying switching of motor actions. Zhong, S., Pouratian, N., & Christopoulos, V. (2025). PLOS Computational Biology, 21(2), e1012811.

[post-punk-revival]

What's this anti-psychaitry stuff ? I think I definitely might be misinterpreting what you mean here

Antipsychiatry is a specific political movement based on a framework of ideas, the way you might describe feminism. The most common way I've seen people misunderstand what it is is by reading it as a belief, as in "I don't believe psychology is real" and from there drawing the conclusion it's anti-science and based in conspiratorial ignorance. If that's where you're coming from, that's the misconception I'd like to assuage:

The first and most important thing to do when trying to approach antipsychiatry from antipsychs' standpoint is reframe what you think of as "psychiatry" to begin with. Because the average person associates "psychiatry/psychology" with one of two things—an objective science, or a field of healthcare—it sounds like a batshit fringe thing to declare you're opposed to it as a concept. That is not what psychiatry is when we talk about it, and for those of us who've had personal experience with it, it's not what we've experienced. What we're talking about is a system that's currently in place that has power it can and does utilize over marginalized people. The easiest starting point to this is obviously the concept of involuntary institutionalization, but there's more to a system than just one coercive ability and there is a network of ways people have been victimized by the psychiatric system.

A lot of people have an instinctive negative reaction to hearing about this for the first time because the assumption is that we're ideologically opposed to personal recovery or treatment access, or going around decrying the evils of addictive antidepressants like your aunt Sharon. Maybe some of us are, but that isn't universally what this is about, and imo it shouldn't be such an individualized thing. The way I approach it, this is first and foremost about the autonomy of mentally ill and cognitively disabled people to make their own decisions, which may involve meds or no meds, and certainly involves a lot of areas of life that aren't med-related but psychiatry as a system currently has a hand in.

Something important to remember: human beings wrote the DSM. It wasn't a gospel handed down from God; it's a flawed document with a lot of entries that are understudied, unstudied, or fully fabricated, and treating it like an objective source of fact is unstable ground. The first time I actually looked into antipsychiatry specifically, by name, was learning about "oppositional defiance disorder," the idea that there is a feature of the brain that makes kids "pathologically" averse to deferring to authority (and it mostly gets diagnosed in Black kids, while their white peers get diagnosed with ADHD instead? that's weird! anyway).

But most of us who are talking about this have personal experience with the psychiatric system that led us to firsthand, if emotionally biased, opinions. I have a diagnosis of "gender identity disorder" on my chart after being out as trans to a therapist that, according to the DSM V, decides my "incongruent gender identity" as a flaw of my brain; homosexuality used to be a disorder in the DSM, and asexuality still is. I have a diagnosis of anxiety that has caused urgent care doctors to dismiss me when I had acute breathing issues, and delayed an asthma diagnosis by decades. I'm obviously not anti-treatment, but I can't receive it myself because any diagnosis I'd receive from a therapist for my psychosis would limit my rights, especially as a trans person who wants to emigrate. As a very young kid I was prescribed risperidone to stop my autistic meltdowns so that my parents and teachers wouldn't have to accommodate my sensory needs. And nothing has pushed me further into antipsych conviction than the people who dismissed these complaints as simply how it works, like an unimaginative failure to view manmade constructs as separable from the laws of physics. If the DSM says trans identity is an illness, don't ask why, ask how can we change that?

Something else important to remember: nothing exists in a vacuum. Nothing can exist outside of the larger system of capitalism. Psychiatry needs to be understood as a tool that can be and is weaponized; I'm not in the camp that doesn't see the brain itself as an organ which can be influenced by both internal and external factors like any other, but ask yourself why it's easier to diagnose individual people with depression and prescribe Prozac or breathing exercises than acknowledge when their actual life circumstances might be what's making them feel trapped and desperate.

Antipsychiatry isn't about denying that mental conditions exist at all, or denying those who experience them appropriate treatment to improve their situation. It's an opposition to an oppressive power that can be held over people. That's why a lot of anarchists are antipsych and vice versa. It's not just about ableism and it's not just about institutionalization and it's not just about medication and it's not just about psuedoscience skepticism. It's a comprehensive framework and it's for everyone.

[hypertranslatetournament]

Contestant 10

This book is stupid. 2000 somoni. This is a bad family. There were David's trouble and the trouble of Julia. To believe. Four Events: I'm not just glasses. There is a good person. You think you're excited to all! It's going to be your code (some of the cells) is not a good food here

Contestant 17

All good for stairs.  Men are very low.  : You don't give a partner. (Optional) black gold. Black black. Black black. Black black.  : As dark! See Mr. Bannun: Get down! Terms of Delivery Terms! Departure: V!  : Another event. (Barn Van as a phone): Love? Especially: (line) - bar? Leave: - Everything? Man: "Yes?" Said. Bar: - I can do it. (Summer summary): Add Bendon: Kiss. Lort: Use CD. Father about what is right. Departure: Sorry. I'm glad to hear. SCIENCE FICTION.

nevertheless. eszhazvov. -sahaha -sapzvrissisa. January construction image was revised "118,000: People, I don't know. (See menu) Barry: 3 days, free: Ps. 3 days. I loved that one day and killed the bag. Adam == Back.

(Adam, curved or password! People. I hope I can stop. I want to think about it. A simple day.

Instead of traveling to children ... Location (men): man. If you want. (Adam, listening to Saber and Perry Marine. Berry = Beer = The proposal movement == Feedback movement: This group is mixed. Barry: I can't! It was a step around him: everything. Barry: Email Wall growth. - We have come. Ada == - What is that? Good. Yes we are all different.

This magazine is registered. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

: - work. - it is Love: How is your life? I don't know who: What is the difference? Author: Select Med: RAS: Let's try it. (Barry, people and fights!

Husband: Why do I like it? We are in the text.  Most of us have important groups. Bar: What do you think?

(Each contestant submission was translated 45 times!)

[bunveh]

happy birthday to mr rea!!!!!!! :D wahh i must know how you celebrate kaveh in his special day!! <333

HALLO MS TOHRUIES COCO ! ! I hope xiangli and tabito have been taking good care of their angelco :0 yaoco and tabico . . . my lovelies . . 🤍 🥹 one of these days we must have a double date hihi except the date is for us and our guys can learn to be besties bcos they’ll be seeing each other more often anyways 😼 pushing them both out the way to hug youuuu ! ! !

you know I was so close to making a cake or some cupcakes today for today’s occasion hehe but it didn’t work out LOL maybe tmrw :3 but anyways to the ask’s contents 😸 !

I don’t know if last year I said this as a reply to an ask or what but I remember so clearly mentioning this, in case I haven’t mentioned last year tho we went on a picnic after I dragged him by his hair paimon style /j HAHA BUT THIS YEAR it was v special bcos it is around our third onto fourth year together I believe so >:3 Rea has to get crafty 😽 dynamic is more like she fell first he fell harder but she fell even harder than that LOL so basically we’re always trying to outdo each other,

this year we also go on a picnic and I try to make it super normal and totally non suspicious TOTALLY and bcos I’m very careful with how I plan he totally does buy it :3 not a picnic without a nice punnet of fresh strawberries ofc ! With pretty scenery without any interruptions and this year I don’t need to drag him bcos he knows I’ll be kinda sad even tho I won’t outright say it if he tries to bail to do work even a little on his birthday, learned from last time LOL

Conveniently, phone call ? :0 seems like an emergency :0 wild goose chase starts hihi I feel bad bcos he looks super worried but the problem is . . the big surprise is not ready so nilous phoning me to tell me there’s still some loose ends to tie and I ought to distract him, luckily I’m a decent actress with a decent poker face so he buys it LOL ( poor bby 😔 ).

so after taking him everywhere my fake stress turns to real stress as I’m thinking of how to distract this guy LOLDJSIA they’re taking too long 😔 FINALLY after I get the confirmation ( after I had to convince him that it’s incredibly fundamental to go to zubayr theatre and take care of her puppy bcos apparently there’s no one watching him to which Kaveh argues he thought swoof was well behaved — WELL SUDDENLY HE ISNT ANYMORE LESS QUESTIONS MORE ACTION ) . . I take him to a different location that he doesn’t recognise bc nilou said she needs the doggy and if it’s okay if we bring him to her since no one will be at the theatre the next day.

well before I get to what the surprise is, one thing about Kaveh is that considering his job he’s quite passionate about design and making houses feel like homes with the design alone, but also not compromising the beauty element in the process, it’s a meticulous and kinda precarious science he often says, and from his rants of unappreciative clients and general info drops he gives I’ve learnt enough about him and his preferences in design, but I also learn that he’s quite ardent with regards to our home and what it would be like in the future, especially since he’s been mentioning it more often recently . . :0 this is where we go back to the whole thing where we’re lowkey competitive with gifting things he made the first mistake by letting his plan be known to me LOL so now it’s MY surprise bcos now it’ll be really surprising 😼

So as we finally arrive I explain first of all I just need to check something considering, and this is irl rea’s lore drop that I don’t mention ever really sobs but my dad has a construction business and I work with him haha so I just say I have to help see a client of my own real quick but I also want his expertise too :3 suddenly. . . why are there all our friends here . . . ? ( coco is here too 🤍 ) Kaveh looks confused, that’s when I turn around and all I say is I win :3 holding our keys HEH, at first he has the biggest confused expression on his face but he’s smart so he figures it out seeing the gears turning in his head is so funny and yeah ! He’s annoyed at first bcos I duped him at his own game but then again I kinda knew all he would like in a home and the type of neighbourhood he would like >:3 that’s kinda about it, there’s also a housewarming party and a strawberry cake ( OFCCC ! )

I luv him so muchhhh THANK YOU COCO DEAREST FOR THE ASK ILUUU MWAH 🤍

[grison-in-space]

Can I ask about other science things, maybe not even things related to YOUR things? Such as.... your favorite piece of dog research? (It is also very okay if the answer is no.)

oh yes, always! I'm just--not ready to get into the mess of my PhD; there's... a lot of anger there, that's all. General science is always okay.

I don't actually read that many dog papers day to day! Most of my dogs knowledge is based off of a) extensions and applications of comparative work done on a variety of other species, b) a truly vast quantity of personal observation, c) the general "I am an autistic who has had this special interest at least since I could crawl" gestalt, and d) a lot of trial and error. There just isn't actually that much research cooking with dogs day to day that I'm super into, and most of what there is involves genetic work to dig up interesting phenotypes when I get idly curious about something.

The most recent dog paper I've read and really enjoyed is probably Svartburg 2006 (below) which actually asks deep questions about not only behavioral variation among different breeds of dog but also about how much of that behavioral variation persists over time without selection, using different lines within breed (working v. show) to dig into the variation.

Svartberg, Kenth. “Breed-Typical Behaviour in Dogs—Historical Remnants or Recent Constructs?” Applied Animal Behaviour Science 96, no. 3 (February 1, 2006): 293–313. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.applanim.2005.06.014.

[bisonofyesterday]

Bison’s Big Cool TURKEY DAY November 2024 Art Dump!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"BISON!" you might be wondering, "DIDN'T YOU ALREADY POST THE SATURN FIVE??", well mysterious strawman voice! I did! however I had not finished Sneak yet, but now (and by now i mean like early this month) I have! Uhm, I also didn't draw this much because of anxious depression over c e r t a i n e v e n t s early in the month, but I DID do these 2 things! Hell how about I talk about my ideas for them while I'm here eh? THE SENSATIONAL SATURN FIVE!: Pop-Science Superhero Celebrity Group! They have a deal with evil corporation Evenfall Entertainment (and partial government funding) and therefore are the stars of a half-edutainment/half-reality show where they ALSO fight glamorous crime!

Atom Ace: (Howard Hubble) brilliant inventor and total prick, a freak mutation has given Howard total control over his molecular density! Allowing him to chance size at will! He's also invented some neato repulsor rays in his gloves to fly and punch people at a distance! He may have control over his size! But not anyone else in his life! He's the father of two girls and has a weird relationship with his house AI and his science/business partner, they ALL hate eachother! (Howard is inspired by a mix of Hank Pym Ant-Man and Iron Man) Rhea: (Rhea Hubble) the spunky sweetheart of the Saturn V! Rhea can create hard light ring constructs out of her hair, they remind folks of the planet Saturn so she's named after a MOON of Saturn! She's also very rebellious and hates her dad. (as you can see she's flirting with Dani over there in the corner) (Rhea's general costume is inspired by The Wasp but that's where that reference starts and ends) Sneak: (Valentina Hubble) Rhea's older sister, Sneak is the exact opposite of Rhea, being a huge bootlicker for her dad, she also does a lot of the Five's (I.E. Evenfall Entertainment's) dirty work behind the scenes, which is easy! As she has the power of invisibility! Unfortunately she cannot create forcefields but she can harness her invisible energy into electrical arcs! (s-shock people, she can shock people) She does NOT retain her sister's sociability and sticks to the sidelines. (like her pooooowerrssssss) (Val is intended to be the Black Widow expy, but again, appearance and narrative function is basically where that starts and ends) Ternion: Howard's AI whom he made to care for his boring mansion and his children! (that triangle to the top left of her is her true form), she processes data on the Five's (I.E. Howard's) experiments, but she and Howard are also something more! As they have an incredibly unstable emotional-possibly-psychosexual co-dependent relationship! However! Howard is a massive stick in the mud, so Ternion often has to turn elsewhere for her needs! (Ternion physical appearance is tenuously inspired by The Vision), enter!: The Null: (Dhalazor Rogers) originally Howard's closest science confidant, now a background member and semi-constant nuisance for their press! As The Null turns into a HULKING ALIEN ABOMINATION when stressed! He takes 'medicine' to accommodate this, he still actually cares about the work he does (as well as being a father figure for the sisters) but it's obviously gone to Howard's head, and also that emotional maturity is what attracts Ternion to him as well, oh the drama! I just realized now maybe that also helps their ratings (The Null is obvious, the Incredible Hulk, but I also imagine him with weird fish fins like the Abomination) As I've been not at all subtle with here, the Saturn Five are intended to be expies of the Avengers to contrast against the Phenomenal Family's obvious inspirations in the Fantastic Four, Phenomenal! has tons of other expies too, but I'm gonna have to write about them in their own thingies (just know for now that Howard, Dhala, Millie, and Randy all went to the same college), but if it wasn't obvious I'm a MASSIVE fan of the Venture Bros and comics in general and I like taking toys and bashing them together, wow!

Also! The Patriots still exists! Yeah! Unfortunately right now I'm writing the sequel to something completely unrelated to either The Patriots NOR Phenomenal! So stay tuned for that hopefully this Christmas! (I won't rush myself though so I may miss it)

[philosophyofanamericanteenager]

TAGS: Racism, history, graphic violence, and medical abuse. UNFINISHED AF.

ℑn light of the riots against ICE currently taking place in L.A, and the simmering anger and helplessness I feel on the topic of the mistreatment of minorities the misunderstanding white people have when it comes to the topic of white privilege, I’ve decided to bring my black ass on tumblr to rant and educate some folks about the “Can white people experience racism?” Debate, as well as how systemic oppression affects the dynamics between races today.

So, let’s buckle in.

Recently, I had a very eye opening conversation on the topic of racism with a close friend of mine.

This friend and I have been friends for a long time now, since middle school. It’s quite normal for us to speak about politics since it’s something that I am quite passionate about as a young black adolescent, and because we often spend our time on TikTok where most of the debates and discussions come up. But anyway, somehow the topic of race came up in our discussion. I don’t really remember how we began to talk about it in the first place but again, this is something that’s pretty normal for us. (But to be clear this friend of mine is white.)

We began discussing it and I believe I was educating her on some form of black history or tragic event before she stated, (and I don’t really remember much from this conversation so the quote may not be exact.) “Honestly, I just believe if people didn’t see color the world would be a better place—not in the “colorblind” way, but as I kid I just remember race not being something I even thought about.” And no shade to this friend but honestly, I began to look at her a bit differently.

For me, and I’m sure most, if not every African American has experienced having to become conscious about racism at a young age through parental warnings, watching our people get slaughtered on news channels, or having to deal with micro-aggressions that we were then too young to understand. I genuinely don’t believe white people understand what it’s like to be in the shoes of an racially oppressed person. When you have privilege, you can easily be ignorant to things because it doesn’t affect you. And I believe that yes, while the world probably would be better if we didn’t see race… She only didn’t see race at that age because she isn’t black.

And this is a case of white ignorance.

— THE HISTORY OF RACISM.

Enter François Bernier (https://www.theoriesofrace.com/1/) — "In 1684, François Bernier, a French physician, traveler, and early anthropologist became the first scholar to divide humans into “races.”

Pre-modern societies didn’t categorize people by race but by religion but around the 17-18th centuries European scientists created racial hierarchy to justify colonialism and slavery.

“Caucasian”, (which isn’t really even white btw… The term "Caucasian" is bullshit derived from German anthropologist, Johann Blumenbach. He literally picked the Caucasus region (between Europe and Asia) because he thought Georgians had the "most beautiful skulls" Modern genetics proves there’s no biological "white race” and that skin color is just an adaptation to sunlight. "Caucasoid" as a racial category is debunked junk science. Whiteness is a political/social construct, not biology. Over time, groups like Irish, Italians, and Jews were excluded from being "white" in America until they assimilated. An example being: In 1911, a US court ruled a Syrian immigrant wasn’t "white" (Dow v. United States). Now, Syrians are legally "white" in America. Today, many people from the Caucasus (e.g., Armenians, Chechens) aren’t treated as "white" in the west due to racism/xenophobia. The bottom line is biologically Caucasian is meaningless and politically whiteness is whatever a society decides it is to maintain power. And it’s very ironic because many actual Caucasians (from the Caucasus) would never pass as "white" in the west. And Blumenbach’s "Caucasian" label was so arbitrary that he included North Africans, South Asians, and Europeans under it. Colonialists later narrowed it to mean "white" for supremacy. So thanks, and continuing on…) “Negroid”, and “Monogoloid” were pseudoscience, which became law.

So yes, classifying people into “races” was just a colonial weapon used to justify and expand colonialism/slavery by claiming that we were biologically inferior. And so obviously, these colonial weapons are something that would evolve into the systematic oppression we see today.

Colonial powers began to legalize oppression since the justification of enslavement was indeed working. They made slavery codes, which were laws that labeled black people as property instead of human beings. Another example being: Virginia slave codes which made slavery hereditary. As well as scientific racism to “prove” white superiority. (Phrenology and eugenics.)

— EXAMPLES OF SCIENTIFIC RACISM:

1. The "Father of Gynecology" & slave torture. (https://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2018/04/17/603163394/-father-of-gynecology-who-experimented-on-slaves-no-longer-on-pedestal-in-nyc)

• From 1818–1883 Dr. J. Marion Sims, performed 30+ surgeries on enslaved Black women (Lucy, Anarcha, Betsey) without anesthesia, claiming Black people "don't feel pain like whites." He invented the speculum and techniques that are STILL USED TODAY.

2. The Tuskegee syphillis study. (https://www.cdc.gov/tuskegee/about/timeline.html?CDC_AAref_Val=https://www.cdc.gov/tuskegee/timeline.htm)

• Around 1932–1972 the U.S. Public Health Service experimented on 600 Black men (399 with syphilis) were denied treatment for 40 years to study disease progression. Doctors lied, telling them they were being treated. It officially ended in 1972 with no prosecutions.

3. Mississippi Appendectomies. (https://blackwomenintheblackfreedomstruggle.voices.wooster.edu/2019/05/01/what-the-mississippi-appendectomy-says-about-the-regard-of-the-state-towards-the-agency-of-black-womens-bodies/)

• From the 1950s to the 1980s thousands of black women were coerced/tricked into hysterectomies ("Mississippi appendectomies") to "reduce poverty."

4. Henrietta Lacks.

• in 1951, doctors at Johns Hopkins took cancer cells from Lacks (a Black woman) without consent, creating the HeLa cell line (used in polio vaccines, cancer research.) Her family was never compensated until 2023.

And so, this continuous mistreatment of black people: from the creation of race, to the twisted science, to the laws created to keep us oppressed… not too much has changed, it’s just not as in your face as it used to be.

Take this analogy: if a child has been relentlessly and brutally abused for 18 years, when they finally become an adult, do you truly believe that person’s trauma just disappears? After 200–400 years of slavery and relentless colonial tactics that echo into today like a butterfly effect, do you truly believe that America’s systems, in no way, are not affected by this? Especially when america’s systems were originally made for that exact reason? America is traumatized, our systems are traumatized and I am really tired of the gaslighting black people, and other minorities experience. No one is saying white people don’t understand what it’s like to struggle, we’re saying you don’t know what it’s like to experience racism because that system was created to benefit you.

— “CAN WHITE PEOPLE EXPERIENCE RACISM?”

Absolutely not.

Prejudice and POWER equal racism. Minorities lack systematic power to oppress white people historically/economically. So while they can face prejudice (like jokes and stereotypes), they cannot experience racism’s weight. And white people are so fragile when you say this, they get sooo defensive about their own privilege so they’ll bring up the Irish, or the fact that they’re poor.

1. While I understand that Irish people were oppressed at one point: facing brutal oppression under British colonialism and not even being considered “white” in America. BUT, they were eventually absorbed into whiteness as a survival strategy. By distancing themselves from black people and aligning with white supremacy, they traded one form of marginalization for privilege. Today, “Irish” is a checkbox under “White” on every census form. That's not oppression. that's assimilation into a system that still actively harms Black, Indigenous, and other globally marginalized people. So no, Irish suffering doesn't negate anti-blackness it just proves how whiteness expands to maintain power.

2. “I’m poor too!” Class is not equal to race. (poor whites still benefit from whiteness).

— HOW SYSTEMATIC OPPRESSION AFFECTS MODERN RACIAL DYNAMICS.

Because this system was created to benefit white people and the racism in it still lingers in today… here are some things we as oppressed people have to struggle with in modern day as an effect of it all:

— Wealth & class: The racial pay gap.

• White families have 10x the median wealth of Black families. Why?

• Redlining. (1934-1968): Black neighborhoods were denied loans, trapping generations in poverty.

• Wage theft. Black workers are underpaid for the same jobs (Black women earn 64 cents for every dollar white men earn).

— Policing & mass incarceration.

• Black people are 3x more likely to be killed by police. (https://mappingpoliceviolence.org)

(And before anyone tried to debate me on statistics, CRIME STATISTICS ARE RACIST. One, black communities are heavily over policed. Meaning, we are more likely to be targeted by police officers than others. White people also have more connections to police officers around the country, meaning that if they are arrested it’s easier for them to get off the record. And literally the police were originally supposed to be “slave patrol.”)

• The school-to-prison pipeline: Black kids are arrested for misbehavior white kids get detention for. (White men are known to shoot up schools but for some reason people are afraid of “YNs…”)

And literally today, the modern dynamic is that white "Karens" will call cops on black people for existing, knowing the system will side with them.

— Healthcare Disparities. (Which are literally heavily influenced by scientific racism like I explained before through the examples.)

• Black mothers die 3x more often in childbirth. Doctors downplay their pain (thanks, J. Marion Sims.) medical racism never ended.

— Cultural theft & erasure.

Literally don’t get me started. 😭 the mental gymnastics people do to steal from us, mock us, then gaslight us is insane.

• The hair & bonnet debate: "WHY CAN'T WE GATEKEEP ANYTHING?" People want to copy African Americans so bad but don’t want the struggle that comes with it. Box Braids, Locs, Bonnets = Black protective styles born out of necessity (our hair texture requires it).

They say: "It's just hair!"

But when WE wear it, it's "unprofessional," "ghetto," or "dirty." Then THEY do it and suddenly it’s an open practice and everyone thinks it’s trendy.

“If we can’t wear braids you shouldn’t be wearing blond hair!”

False equivalence. Blonde hair is not tied to a history of oppression. Black hair is. And YES, Black people can be born with blonde hair (Melanesians, some East Africans).

• BONNETS.

I understand that many people may need bonnets to take care of their hair but it doesn’t change the fact that we got called "ghetto" for wearing them outside. Now, suddenly, everyone needs one for their "curly hair journey."

"But Europeans wore bonnets in the 1700s!"

LIES. Those were nightcaps or fashion pieces NOT the silk/satin bonnets Black women created to protect our hair from breakage. (And not to mention black women werent even allowed to wear their hair out in some states. Many enslaved black women were forced to wear head wraps (like tignons in Louisiana) so they could be marked as property. (Like livestock branding.) + they also had to comply with “modesty laws.” 1786 Tignon Laws in Louisiana required black women to cover their hair to "reduce their allure" to white men. And often when black women were allowed to wear their hair out it was exploited. Newly captured African women often had their heads shaved on slave ships to strip cultural identity and "sanitize" them for auction. Enslavers often demanded straight hair for house slaves (mimicking white beauty standards) and black women with loose, "desirable" hair (like mixed-race enslaved people) were fetishized and raped more frequently. Their hair became a tool of coercion. But despite oppression, Black women found ways to reclaim hair, like braiding maps to freedom. Some hid escape routes in cornrows (ex: he legend of rice-braiding in South Carolina.) Head wraps were eventually turned into ways of rebellion since black women began tying wraps in elaborate styles from West African traditions.)

Silk bonnets as haircare originated in Black communities post-slavery. (https://helixhairlabs.com/blogs/all-articles/the-history-of-the-hair-bonnet)…

Guys I got lazy 😭 ima have to make a part 2 y’all stay tuned I just need to post this. Plus, I got stuff in the way rn, not gonna have any time to write too much. Also, I know I need to work on my grammar and organization and stuff, I’ll edit this later. (lol, or never.)

[dailyanarchistposts]

Section V: The Evidences (Modern)

When examining the growth of technology and science in the modern century, we are really standing before awe-inspiring inventions and discoveries. Physics and chemistry are applied to the different fields of study, and new labor-saving devices are developed, through the ingenious of some lone scientists and inventors. We are on the dawn of an era where skyscrapers are still impressive and commonplace, where factories are capable of producing one thousand times as much as people could centuries ago, where the spirit of innovation and enterprise is inherent in the minds of all the people — and we start to think, even if for just a few solitary moments, that anything is possible. There is no bridge that cannot be built, no idea that cannot be manifested with earthly materials — no monument to human ingenuity that cannot be constructed. With this, we march towards a brighter future, where there is no dilemma that cannot be solved, no ideal that cannot be reached.

The International Trade Administration records the amount of workers and the value of shipments of each manufacturing industry in the United States of America. By analyzing the amount of wealth is produced by how many laborers, we can discover how much wealth each worker is personally responsible for creating — but, we also see what one worker is capable of producing, only by working alongside other workers with the use of technology. The workers are divided into two groups: total employment and production workers. Total employment includes workers who are not involved in producing anything, such as managerial positions among other things. Production workers, though, are those who are responsible for producing the actual product.

In the food manufacturing industry, there is a total of 1,506,000 workers (1,150,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $413,000,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $274,236.38 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $359,130.43 worth of shipments. Of course, what does it exactly mean, when we measure the amount of money that is produced per worker? It is a very nominal meaning, having no solitary inference on value. So, to draw an analogy, I’ll compare how many products a worker has produced a year, based on the amount of wealth they have created. A good comparison item is a loaf of bread, at the cost of $2.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 137,118 loaves of bread, or each production worker has produced 179,565 loaves of bread. [40]

In the beverage and tobacco product manufacturing industry, there is a total of 175,000 workers (94,500 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $106,943,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $611,102.85 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $1,131,671.95 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a pack of cigarettes, at the cost of $2.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 305,551 packs of cigarettes, or each production worker has produced 565,836 packs of cigarettes. [41]

In the textile mills industry, there is a total of 337,000 workers (286,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $51,846,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $153,845.69 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $181,279.72 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is square yard of cotton, at the cost of $3.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 51,281 square yards of cotton, or each production worker has produced 60,426 square yards of cotton. [42]

In the textile product mills industry, there is a total of 230,000 workers (187,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $31,649,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $137,604.34 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $169,245.98 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a square foot of carpet, at the cost of $0.75. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 183,472 square feet of carpet, or each production worker has produced 225,661 square feet of carpet. [43]

In the apparel manufacturing industry, there is a total of 520,000 workers (420,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $52,727,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $101,398.07 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $125,540.47 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is T-shirt, at the cost of $5.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 20,279 T-shirts, or each production worker has produced 25,108 T-shirts. [44]

In the leather and allied product manufacturing industry, there is a total of 69,200 workers (55,300 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $8,463,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $122,297.68 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $153,037.97 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is belt, at the cost of $8.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 15,287 belts, or each production worker has produced 19,129 belts. [45]

In the wood product manufacturing industry, there is a total of 586,000 workers (486,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $89,337,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $152,452.21 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $183,820.98 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a plank of wood, at the cost of $5.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 30,490 planks of wood, or each production worker has produced 36,764 planks of wood. [46]

In the paper manufacturing industry, there is a total of 548,000 workers (424,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $159,231,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $290,567.51 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $375,544.81 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is bundle of paper, at the cost of $2.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 145,283 bundles of paper, or each production worker has produced 187,772 bundles of paper. [47]

In the printing and related support activities industry, there is a total of 830,000 workers (598,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $99,916,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $120,380.72 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $167,083.61 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is an ounce of ink, at the cost of $1.50. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 80,253 ounces of ink, or each production worker has produced 111,388 ounces of ink. [48]

In the petroleum and coal products manufacturing industry, there is a total of 101,000 workers (67,100 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $229,153,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $2,268,841.58 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $3,415,096.87 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a gallon of gas, at the cost of $2.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 1,134,420 gallons of gas, or each production worker has produced 1,707,548 gallons of gas. [49]

In the chemical manufacturing industry, there is a total of 890,000 workers (511,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $416,017,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $467,434.83 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $814,123.28 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a pound of Halon 1301 (used for preventing fires), at the cost of $4.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 116,858 pounds of Halon 1301, or each production worker has produced 203,530 pounds of Halon 1301. [50]

In the plastics and rubber products manufacturing industry, there is a total of 1,080,000 workers (857,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $172,904,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $160,096.29 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $201,754.95 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a pound of rubber, at the cost of $0.20. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 800,481 pounds of rubber, or each production worker has produced 1,008,774 pounds of rubber. [51]

In the nonmetallic mineral product manufacturing industry, there is a total of 522,000 workers (407,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $91,593,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $175,465.51 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $225,044.22 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a brick, at the cost of $0.50. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 351,123 bricks, or each production worker has produced 450,088 bricks. [52]

In the primary metal manufacturing industry, there is a total of 578,000 workers (459,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $152,157,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $263,247.40 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $331,496.73 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a pound of steel, at the cost of $0.35. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 752,135 pounds of steel, or each production worker has produced 947,133 pounds of steel. [53]

In the fabricated metal product industry, there is a total of 1,815,000 workers (1,375,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $252,030,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $138,859.50 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $183,294.54 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a horseshoe, at the cost of $2.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 69,429 horseshoes, or each production worker has produced 91,647 horseshoes. [54]

In the machinery manufacturing industry, there is a total of 1,396,000 workers (915,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $269,820,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $193,280.80 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $294,885.24 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is an Engine-Based Farm Plow, at the cost of $19,000. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 10 Engine-Based Farm Plows, or each production worker has produced 15 Engine-Based Farm Plows. [55]

In the computer and electronic product manufacturing industry, there is a total of 1,653,000 workers (853,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $475,025,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $287,371.44 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $556,887.45 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a computer, at the cost of $600. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 479 computers, or each production worker has produced 928 computers. [56]

In the electrical equipment, appliance, and component industry, there is a total of 591,000 workers (431,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $117,278,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $198,439.93 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $272,106.72 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a toaster, at the cost of $10.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 19,843 toasters, or each production worker has produced 27,210 toasters. [57]

In the transportation equipment manufacturing industry, there is a total of 1,838,000 workers (1,352,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $619,631,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $337,122.41 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $458,306.95 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a car, at the cost of $12,000. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 28 cars, or each production worker has produced 38 cars. [58]

In the furniture and related product manufacturing industry, there is a total of 641,000 workers (514,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $70,733,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $110,347.89 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $137,612.84 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a chair, at the cost of $25.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 4,413 chairs, or each production worker has produced 5,504 chairs. [59]

In the miscellaneous manufacturing industry, there is a total of 745,000 workers (501,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $105,899,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $142,146.30 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $211,375.24 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a pound of buttons, at the cost of $10.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 14,214 pounds of buttons, or each production worker has produced 21,137 pounds of buttons. [60]

When we examine all of the manufacturing industries of the United States put together, we get a much broader image. In total, in the U.S. manufacturing industry, there are 16,651,200 workers (11,942,900 of them production workers), creating shipments worth a total of: $3,985,342,000,000 (nearly four trillion dollars). Each worker produced $239,342.62 worth of shipments, and each production worker produced $333,699.68 worth of shipments. [61] The reason why there is a trend for production workers to be responsible for producing more wealth should be obvious. There is a smaller amount of them, still responsible for producing the same amount of wealth. The reason why I separated them into two groups, showing the difference of wealth they produced, is because one is directly responsible for producing, while the others are not directly responsible. The production workers includes such positions as would be typical in the manufacturing business: assembly line workers (each responsible for their specialization in one aspect of the final product), craftsmen who apply physical labor to objects in order to add value to them (such as a carpenter turning a piece of wood into a chair — though such an example goes back to more primitive technology), and there are other positions of laborers adding wealth to the final product through their labor. Those who do not count as production workers includes an entire different class of laborers: individuals working with management, advertising, human resources department, maybe even a security department. One would reason that to increase profit, income, and productive output, that it would be best to have as many production workers as were necessary to speed up the productive process, and as few managerial or accountant workers as necessary to keep down costs (such as the wages of those individuals). But, this does not happen to always be the case when examining the empirical evidence of the economy. In the computer and electronic product manufacturing industry, there is a total employment of 1,653,000 workers. Of that amount, 853,000 are production employees, and the other 800,000 are non-productive employees. 51.6% of the work force is the actual labor responsible for producing the final product, whereas the other 48.4% are not directly involved production. [62] Of course, this is not the rule, it is rather an exception — one I brought up to demonstrate a valid point, that production workers are not always the largest group of employees. However, when examining other industries of the manufacturing sector, one will see that production workers usually outnumber non-production workers, usually at a rate between 2 to 1 and 8 to 1.

[clownoid-bug]

*VITEAJTE NA MOJOM MALOM BLOGU² *

*prebieha rekonštrukcia*

ahojkyyy toto je cz/sk (a vedecký, ale uvidíme ako sa mi bude chcieť) sideblog pre @clownoid-cat

volajte ma charlie, čárlí, alebo nejakým variantom názvu tohto blogu

čosi o mne:

18>, slovenka, mierne úzkostlivá, kvír (na nejaký spôsob), umelkyňa, aktívna fanúšička

ľúbim:

kreslenie, háčkovanie, štrikovanie, yappovanie, jeseň, hudbu, čokoládu, čaj (a pomaly aj kávu), čítanie, farby, chrobáky/hmyz atď, vedu

tagy:

🇸🇰

#ťumbľr - veci v slovenčine

#čumblr - veci v češtine

#čarlí tára - moje diy textposty

🇬🇧

#bugs - for bug related stuff

for my english (🇦🇺🇨🇦🇬🇧🇺🇲 etc.) speaking audience;

*under construction*

this is a cz/sk (and science) oriented sideblog for @clownoid-cat

if you enjoy me as a person ;) but speak only english, @clownoid-cat will probably be better to follow

atm there's more slav stuff then sciency stuff

kredity za rozdeľovač (viem, že sa to tak nevolá): @/saradika-graphics

[myalit]

Blog Post #8

What was the main idea of black twitter?

Black Twitter was a social construct that was created by a community of users to describe aspects of black American society through the platform. It was created in the early 2000s and was an extension of regular Twitter. It was used to unite Black people in the argument against white supremacy. It was a space where they could feel heard and share their thoughts and opinions with a community that has the same values and struggles. It was an area where the main focus was interest and topics of the black community.

Do u think protest are proactive?

I strongly believe that protests are very proactive and are necessary in our society. Protest are designed to be a longer process, and it takes patience. A protest is not a fast acting thing. Sometimes more than others it can take a while to actually get a breakthrough when it comes to protest. For some this can be very frustrating, but this is why you have to persevere and not give up so that way you can make it to the final conclusion. I think that they are very effective and helpful, especially when it comes to our rights and wages.

What is the purpose of the target boycott?

The purpose of the 2025 target boycott is because target has been used social justice and racial justice as selling points and they have now ditched DEI this year. This shows that there company doesn’t care about what DEI means or what it stands for and that is a bad look. The protest is for 40 days and is for all targets. It is importance to participate in things like this so we can take a stand for things that are not right in society. Some other companies to avoid right now are Walmart and Lowe’s.

What is a protest that stands out to you and why?

The protest topic that I am most involved in is Roe v Wade. The reason for this is because as a young women this directly effects me my life and my future. There is so much more to Roe v Wade than just abortion. It has to do with all women’s rights and their bodies. There is absolutely no reason why anyone should be making laws or make decisions for what each individual woman wants to do with her body. The saddest part is that if this were about men it would never be a thing. The government is so obsessed with controlling women it is so painful to watch.

Work Cited

Lee, L. A. (2017). Black Twitter: A response to bias in mainstream media. Social Sciences, 6(1), 29. https://doi.org/10.3390/socsci6010029

Vegh, S. (2003). Classifying forms of online activism: The case of cyberprotests against the World Bank. In M. McCaughey & M. D. Ayers (Eds.), Cyberactivism: Online activism in theory and practice (pp. 71–95). New York: Routledge.