#why does queueing tank take so long what on earth is going on in the house of commons

[deadeyeedangel]

makeshift pomodoro timer: role queue tank and study until you find a match

[hangmanshole]

here comes santa claus

A/N: there’s no point in sugar coating this….. it’s pure unadulterated sheer horniness for ryan bergara in his santa costume.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: 18+ !!!! smut to come in part 2, enough swear words to rival a 10 year old who just learned the word fuck, horny xmas pickup lines that wouldn’t be out of place in a cheesy xmas porno

with christmas fast approaching and your ebenezer scrooge vibe stinking up the loft you shared with your best friends, they finally lost all patience and took it upon themselves to drag your grumpy ass out of the comfort of the loft and into the car for some good old-fashioned retail therapy at the mall.

“but—“

“shut up, you’re going shopping and you’re gonna love it. maybe you could even buy a vibrator and go to town on yourself so you stop being such a cunt.”

“tell me how you really feel,” you grumbled, lowering into your seat so you were at the optimal position for window gazing.

—————

“bergara, you’re late… again” steven tsk’ed in annoyance, he wasn’t getting paid enough to deal with ryan’s shit, and also, he fucking reeked of stale beer. he was pretty sure the stain on his costume was also beer, or beer adjacent (enter whisky).

“better late than never, now let’s make some fucking wishes come true, huh?” he rubbed his hands together mischievously and walked out to his spot on santa’s throne. yeah. steven definitely wasn’t getting paid enough for this shit.

“HO HO HO BOYS AND GIRLS ITS ME, SANTA!” steven sighed, shook his head and plastered a smile on his face before running out to his position as head elf.

——————

“fellas i’ve changed my mind, i’m ready to get in the holiday spirit” you said in an attempt to declare a truce, maybe it wasn’t too late to back out of this.

“not only are you a grinch, but you’re also a goddamn, dirty liar. you need this” your best friend retorted, not at all impressed. you think you need new friends, this one’s defective and can call all your bullshit.

you sighed in defeat and allowed them to drag you through the entrance of the mall for what would be a torturous five hours of christmas shopping.

——————

“santa’s going to take a quick break, and then he’ll be right back! everybody say bye santa!” steven said to all the children and their accompanying parents while ryan stumbled out of his throne and back into the dressing room (tent).

steven pulled back the door to the tent and found ryan chugging straight from a whisky bottle that was nearing empty.

“nice one santa, maybe try not to fall on your ass this time. i can only say santa’s a bit clumsy because he can’t see over his beard so many times.”

“yes dear, i’ll be a good boy from now on” ryan replied in a drunken stupor.

“jesus christ, is that bottle from today?” steven asked, ignoring ryan’s smartass comment.

“you bet your sweet ass it is.”

steven sat in weighted silence as ryan chugged down the rest of the whisky bottle. the uniform he had to wear was unbearably itchy, not to mention thick (which makes him sweaty), and worst of all, he had to babysit ryan through the rest of the holidays. he was disgruntled to say the least - what was usually his favourite time of year was soured because his best friend was broken-hearted over a friends with benefits situation gone wrong, thus drinking himself into a fucking hot mess while he was meant to be lying about the miracle of christmas to gullible, doe-eyed children while their parents paid for their kid to sit on the lap of a stranger. happy fucking holidays.

he glanced at the clock, and then back at ryan who was staring into space, completely disconnected from reality.

“breaks over, santa. knock ‘em dead” he said in what he hopes was an encouraging tone. he was met with a slurred grunt, which he’d have to accept as an answer. he watched as ryan gathered himself up and stumbled his way out of the tent. steven prayed to whatever god was looking down on him to have mercy on him, and also on ryan’s liver which was surely taking hella damage.

———————

“dude can we go home now? i’m literally out of money” you pleaded to your roommates. your feet were sore from standing for so long, your mouth was dry from the giant soft pretzel you’d snacked on earlier and to be honest, you were fucking exhausted from being around people for so long. your social battery could only last for so long and you were riding the last of that sweet sweet juice on 2%.

“in a minute” was all the answer you got. after 20 not minutes, according to your best friend anyway, passed you exited the store in a huff, leaving all your shopping bags unattended in the cart. you exhaled a long breath and thought about all the reasons you loved your friends and how you’d miss them if they suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth.

just as you allowed yourself to get swept away in your thoughts, a bellowed HO HO HO caught your attention. not fucking santa. god, you’d forgotten that malls hire any random dude off the street once a year to play santa and let all the good little boys and girls of this shit piss town sit on his lap and tell them what they want for christmas.

i’ll tell you what i want for christmas, santa. some fucking dick, you thought to yourself. you make the decision to glance over in the direction of this years holiday shmuck, entertaining the idea of getting a good laugh out of the pervy old man sitting on old saint nicks throne. you’re surprised however, to find a young looking guy, fucking fit, manspreading on santa’s seat.

were all the old men of the world too busy to play santa this year? who is this guy?

your questions unfortunately received no answers as your roommates finally decided to make an appearance outside the store.

“we’re done— uh…. are you checking out santa?”

“no the fuck i’m not” you replied, just a tad too fast.

“dude ew oh my godddd, since when do you like old men?”

“he’s literally not old, look.” you point over towards the christmas display so that your friends too could appreciate the view that is new hot santa.

“i think we should take a family photo with santa” your best friend mused, a shit eating grin plastered across their stupid face.

“no, i refuse. no” you reply, but your words fall on deaf ears. the three bastards you call roommates are already dragging you over to the queue of children waiting to see santa.

“you can’t make me!” you shout, catching the attention of several disproving mothers. they let go of you once you’re situated in the queue, and your best friend says that they’ll wait in line with you until it’s your turn.

“i hate this, i hate it here, i hate you…do you hate me? is that why i’m here?” you ask.

“you don’t get to be a jackass just because some asshole jock broke your heart. and you don’t get to be an even bigger asshole on christmas just because your parents got divorced when you were a kid. this is our first holiday as a loft family and you’re ruining it.”

you don’t reply after that, what could you even say? what would you even say?

“next please!” the head elf called out to you.

“don’t forget to smile!” your best friend said to you, then patted you on the back and left the queue.

“i don’t mean to rush you but santa is on a tight schedule, please come up if you’re ready for your picture” the head elf said to you, looking you directly in the eyes.

you nodded, embarrassed, and made your way up the stairs as fast as you could. your senses were hit with the scent of whisky and stale beer. talk about christmas spirit. santa was still seated while manspreading, and you realise now it’s because he’s fucking tanked.

“well hey there pretty girl” santa greets you, a wicked grin on his face.

“hi santa” you reply, not moving toward him.

��why don’t you come over here and sit on santa’s lap and we’ll talk about the first thing that pops up” he chuckles. your face flushes pink. you clear your throat uncomfortably and fill in the final gaps till you were sat on santa’s lap.

“now that’s a good girl. why don’t you tell me what you want for christmas, baby?” santa says, his tone a chilling purr in your ear. he takes the chance and pushes a loose strand of hair behind the same ear he’d just whispered into.

“santa—“ you start.

“yeah?”

“i just want a man to take care of me and my… needs” you muse, a slight smile gracing your face.

“and what needs would those be, little girl?” you watched as santa’s eyes darkened while they bore into yours. god he was so fucking hot.

“let’s just say… it’d be a christmas miracle if any man could make me cum this holiday season” you pouted. you felt santa harden in the slightest underneath you, a low growl leaves his mouth, concealed by the ridiculous santa beard.

“how about you let santa take care of you, huh, sweet girl? i wanna give you this present myself.” you moaned quietly into his ear.

“say cheese!” the head elf said, pulling the both of you out of the trance of your conversation. you both smiled at the click and then turned back to each other.

santa slipped you a piece of paper and you pocketed it immediately. “my shift ends in an hour, meet me at the address on that note?”

“only if you wear the costume” you smirk at him.

“god i’m gonna fuck you so good.”

[joshslater]

A Week in Indiana

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I was exhausted. It’s weird, because on long haul travel you have done nothing but relaxing. First on the initial connection, then at the airport, then at the trans Atlantic from Amsterdam to Chicago. I even napped a bit on it. Since that flight follows the earths rotation, you basically land at the same time as you start. Queues, immigration, wait for luggage, customs, relax some more at O’Hare. Finally followed by a decidedly less comfortable regional flight to Indiana, wait for luggage again, and out. And there he was, looking even better in person than he had on Skype the day before, waiting to pick me up. He was younger than me, but acted confident, cocky even. I like that.

- Hi there. How was the trip? - Long. I’m exhausted, like I said I would be. - It’s not far.

Americans have no idea what that word means. It wasn’t until an hour later we finally parked in his driveway. We had so much to talk about, but I made it perfectly clear that my mind wasn’t were it needed to be right now for anything serious. I quickly went online with my phone to cancel the backup hotel night I had, keeping some nights for the end of the week if things didn’t work out. Then I zoned out for most of the trip to his house.

- Let’s put your stuff in your room, head out for a bite and then you can go to sleep. - Head out? - I ain’t cooking.

The house was spacious living for a single dude, and probably the tidiest it been in a long while. Not that I paid much attention, as tired as I was. I would had preferred to just crash there and then, but I know from experience not to go to bed too early, or you’ll just wake up at midnight.

- Hey, can I get you something to drink? Coke, beer, water, absinthe? - A coke would be great. It’s dry in air planes.

A big, cold can of coke felt exactly like what I needed, despite the corn syrup. Rehydrated I carried my bags to the guest room, which doubled as a home gym. It’s silly, I know, but despite being so tired I found it kind of hot to be sleeping in a room where someone else had been working out. Well, I guess that’s the kind of shit we have in common, and the entire reason why I was here.

People really undersell the sheer amount of confusion when you wake up after having been drugged. Especially when you have been moved and things have been done to you. You didn’t plan for it, like going to sleep, and you have nothing to fall back to when you wake up to orient you. Everything around you is out of context. In addition to that, you still have residual effects and possible traces of the drugs in your system.

It’s impossible to estimate how much time it took to get a grip of the situation, but gradually I was aware that I was naked, tied to a bed, gagged and unable to see, possibly because of a pitch black room.

- Did you sleep well?

How long had it been? No way to tell. I feel like shit. I can feel him touching my naked chest. But that means he can see me, right? Why can I not see?

- I thought I would surprise you with a little transformation for yourself. This is the garage by the way. It’s not quite soundproof, but I don’t really need that, do I.

I don’t know what kind of gag he is using, but I can’t move my mouth in any direction. It feel like he had put some clay-like plastics into my mouth, had me bite into it, and then have it harden. I want to scream. I don’t want any piercings or tattoos or whatever. I shout that whatever his plans are, I want out. The best I could muster was an agitated hum.

I feel something cold against first my left nipple, and then both. Some sort of gel. Then some object is put there. Are these suction cups? Then a motor sound starts and I feel a rhythmic suction on my nipples. Guess they are.

- You should just relax. I don’t know anything about hypno, and you said it doesn’t work on you, but just so you have something to listen to I’ve downloaded a few things.

He puts earphones on me with the typical nonsense with multiple voices all talking over each other that all hypno mp3 files are so fond of. Then I feel him doing something with my gag, and a small trickle of fluid at the back of my throat, and then everything gets fuzzy.

- And here is something to keep you stupid. Enjoy the ride.

I’m too tired and drugged to analyze what is happening. I’m swimming in black velvet soup of words. I should relax, I’m told, be calm and follow instructions. I’m barely even aware I have a body, but occasionally the senses intrude into the bliss and I can feel the suction cups removed, more cool gel applied, and then the cups put back. Everything just gets softer and softer until everything ceases to be.

There’s no audio anymore.

- Hello, sleepy beauty. Are you ready for something solid to eat? - Yeah...

Wait? When did he remove the gag. Why can’t I see?

- Just be still, and I’ll remove the IV.

I could feel the short sting of an IV needle being pulled out, and felt him bandage the arm. What did he put into me? Where did he get an IV from in the first place?

- Now, just be still while I undo the restraints.

Any kind of resistance would be pointless. I was naked, in an unfamiliar room, and completely blind. I just followed along with his movements as he released my arms and legs. He then helped me on my feet and led me from the garage and through the house.

- So, I’ve prepared an outfit for you. Just put it on and we are ready for dinner. It’s all your size. Now, be very still and I’ll remove your black contact lenses.

So that’s what he had done. He was way better at removing them than I think I would have been, had he just asked me to remove them myself. As I blinked in the light I saw I was back in the guest room. My bags were no where to be seen, and on the bed was a small line up of clothes.

I turn to the mirror and see myself, but instead of my normal hairdo my head is almost completely shaved, save for a few millimeter Mohawk. Secondly, and more concerning, my nipples are huge. Like finger tip huge. He’s observing me from the door.

- Cortisone cream and a modified milking machine, and a few tricks. They will shrink a little bit, but not much. You’ll look like this from now on.

I don’t even have the energy to yell at him. If it is permanent, as he say, screaming doesn’t help. I need to get away from him before he can do whatever else he has planned for the week. It’s only day.... Actually I don’t know how long it’s been. One day? Two days?

- Just get dressed, and we can be on our way. Bring the ID so we can take a beer as well. - OK.

I look at the items laid out for me at the bed again, next to my passport. One black tank top with white hem in some sporty mesh material with the text “PUMP!” printed on the front. Blue, short adidas polyester shorts with white stripes. White, calf high socks with two black rings at the top. Black adidas shoes with white stripes. The only things missing for a stereotype bingo is a whistle, glow sticks and some molly.

No underwear, apparently. I put on the shorts. Like hell “all your size”. The shorts are tight and doesn’t leave my dick size to anyone’s imagination. Socks and shoes go on fine. I brace myself and put on the top. My tits feels like sparklers, shooting nerve signals all through my body. I can feel the tight shorts getting even tighter. I feel slutty.

On the way to dinner he is quite chatty. Talking about the buildings and neighborhoods we drive by, as if he hadn’t drugged and violated me for hours, perhaps days. He is casually dressed, Levis’ jeans and American Eagle polo. Still he manage to outclass me by an order of magnitude. Dinner is at P.F. Chang’s, so not at all fancy. Still I feel like everyone is looking, and judging. Everyone we pass on the parking lot, through the mall, at the front of house, on the way to our table. Everyone can clearly see my tits and my dick through the fabric. My haircut practically shouts for attention. My clothes even more so. And it’s not like I’m part of a group that has dressed up, or down. I’m lead here by someone dressed normal. A regular dude and his slut.

Sitting down feels better, with a table hiding my lower body, but it still feels like I’m in public in just underwear, having two flashing tits.

- Hey, relax. Calm your tits.

It was such a cheesy joke, I exploded in laughter. He’s right of course. It’s not like I’m hurt or massively disfigured. Most people will never even see it, once I’m in decent clothes. No one around me knows me, and I’ll never see them again. This is me experiencing something I could never have set up myself. Besides, I can’t really do anything about my situation except flagging down a cop, so I might as well enjoy it. I ordered the Dynamite Shrimps, the Singapore black pepper chicken and a steady flow of diet coke.

Man, was I hungry. It was tasty and I even managed to relax, though my tits kept rubbing against the mesh fabric, keeping me semi erect. And every time someone passed by, I got a twinge of feeling exposed, feeling “slutty”. We chatted a bit about ourselves, kind of how I had imagined our first real meal would have gone. When we were both done we asked for a refill and the bill. I managed to hide it, but I got quite the shock reading it. It said Tuesday. I arrived Saturday afternoon, so I had been drugged for three whole days! I don’t think he noticed my shock, because he leaned over and asked me, in a hushed voice “Are you ready to leave, slutty fuckboi?”.

Right away my dick throbbed into almost fully erect, and it was very close to pump custard into the shorts. Of course! The fucking hypno loops! That’s why I have been so docile since I woke up. “Slutty fuckboi” and “Calm your tits” were trigger phrases. Tits?! They are nipples. I’ve even been conditioned to refer to them as tits. I’m sure there are some programming about feeling self conscious and “slutty” as well. Who the fuck does he think he is! I must escape right now!

- Almost. I need to go to the boy’s room first. - I bet you do. You drank quite a lot.

I need to walk through two thirds of the restaurant to reach the restroom. Again I feel like I’m under dressed, overexposed and it would be hard to miss my raging erection in the hilariously tight adidas. I keep a fast but calm stride. Running would just draw even more attention.

I even have a hard time pulling down the shorts. They are almost locked in place by my swollen deadbolt. I stand feet together, slide the shorts straight down and turn to the sink to chill my dick in cold water. After the erection is gone I take a leak, pull up the shorts, and that’s when I feel the passport in my pocket. I had almost forgotten about it. I still have a reservation at the hotel. My credit card is on file and I have an ID to show. It must be within just a few miles, and if anything I’m dressed for exercise.

I don’t have a phone or a watch, so I don’t know exactly how long it took, but I guess about two hours to sneak out through the other entrance, ask mall information on the location of Holiday Inn, walk there without Google Maps, manage to check in with a receptionist who clearly didn’t approve of my attire, and have a lie down in bed. I should call Amex and have them block my credit card and send a new one to the hotel. Should I call him and tell him to send my bag here? Would it be risky to let him know where I stay? Would it be risky to even talk to him? That’s when the phone rang.

- Room 304. - Calm your tits, bottom boy. Isn’t it time to continue your transformation? - Yes, it is. - Cool. Pick you up in half an hour. - OK.

Shit. I’m broken.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #208: Eve of Destruction!

June, 1981

“From eons past comes the world’s most savage warrior... THE BERSERKER LIVES AGAIN!”

So this is the Berserker!

Hm. He looks somewhat less impressive as some Roman looking dude as opposed to a shambling vaguely human shape of rock and undying fury.

But I’ll give him a chance to impress in the actual book.

So last time: Wonder Man was working on a cowboy movie, badly, when he got the Avengers call that it was Avengers time. A new island had appeared in the middle of the Mediterranean and the only inhabitant, the Shadow Lord, made the US navy look like fool chumps. The Shadow Lord captured Wonder Man’s publicist Rachel Palmer and explained his whole backstory to her.

That his people the Earth Lords moved to an island, mastered the four elements, and became very concerned with an immortal Berserker so hit him in the face with a volcano. But since it was a dick move to wipe out several towns to get one guy, the Earth Lords disbanded except for Shadow Lord who had to stand watch for two thousand years in case the Berserker came back. And then the Berserker came back.

Instead of fighting the Berserker, Shadow Lord ends up fighting the Avengers a lot and then they beat up his city and then he dies. He wasted his entire life but he feels pretty okay with leaving his responsibilities to them.

This time: world’s oldest man causes problems on purpose.

He’s spry though.

And apparently between issues he chipped off all the rock, found a shield and spear, and also murdered an entire regiment. He’s been very productive between issues.

But he’s got more murder to do because he’s got to show off his sick skills before the Avengers show up so that its more impressive when they survive his sick skills, unlike all these poor dead Italian army people.

So he’s being attack by tanks and planes. And that just makes him scoff at the cowards attacking him with projectiles. Scoff in English.

I don’t know how he knows modern English. The Shadow Lord explicitly learned English out of Rachel Palmer’s brain to explain how he could speak it and then next issue, a guy that’s been buried under rock for two thousand years just pops out speaking English.

If both of them had spoken English with no explanation, I wouldn’t have even noticed. Comics be like that. Aliens speak English.

Anyway, his shield has an aura that turns metal to dust before it even strikes it. So he blocks a cannon shell without much fuss. And the plane on a strafing run gets his spear, which flies up and slices it in two. And then he pulls out what he calls a Cerellian power-sword and swings it, releasing a searing beam of energy which rips open the ground a hundred yards away to bury some tanks.

So he was buried in lava while carrying some sweet gear, apparently.

And it is very sweet gear. But the man himself was described as dangerous and dammit I don’t see it yet.

We pivot sharply over to the Avengers on Shadow Lord Island where the Shadow Lord again tells the Avengers to carry on his mission and gives Rachel his necklace before dying again.

And then, because Rachel got the exposition last time but no main characters did, she recaps his deal. Including the part that the Avengers already know, like how they beat him.

This is some clunky exposition but I’m the one who always complains when comics don’t establish enough context for me when I’m picking up random issues in the middle of a story.

Captain America asks Rachel, since she’s the new expositor, who the Berserker is but she decides that can wait. Its much more important to hold a funeral for the Shadow Lord.

And perhaps its the mistimed insistence on due to the dead when they can bury an ancient Avatar after stopping an ostensible threat to the world that explains why the Avengers give the funeral their full passive-aggressive 110%.

So on an island that’s soon to collapse into the sea, Wonder Man finds a rock to use as a headstone, Iron Man digs a grave with his repulsors, Vision carves several slabs of rock, Jocasta fuses them into a coffin, Beast carries the coffin over to the dead Shadow Lord, Captain America puts him in the box, Wasp carves an inscription on the headstone, and Scarlet Witch uses her power to change the probability that the grave won’t fill itself in. Which I find the most passive-aggressive move of all, for some reason.

And then the Avengers all gather around and bid farewell to a man that they accidentally killed.

Only after they’ve done all this does Rachel decide to tell them-

Nope.

After all of that, she says “I could tell you but it will be much clearer if you see it for yourselves... in the pool of memories.”

Ffs, Rachel.

So she takes them to the pool of memories, which was apparently something Shadow Lord showed her how to use off-panel.

Geez, the best stuff keeps happening off-panel.

And luckily, when the Avengers leveled the city, they didn’t quite manage to break the pool of memories. Which isn’t a pool. Its a fancy bowl of water.

There’s no reason why it couldn’t have been a pool, artist Gene Colan.

Or: once it was drawn as a bowl why didn’t you change it to something accurate but still with a cool sounding name? Vessel of Memories. Or Font of Memories. Bam, its a bowl with water in it, intrigue!

Anyway, Rachel dips a finger into the memory water which is definitely not pensieve because it predates it by nearly twenty years. This causes a flashback to queue up in the water and for it to start monologuing directly into the Avengers’ heads.

“What follows was culled from the memories of the Berserker himself. Listen carefully. The fate of the world may depend on it.”

So. Wait.

I know its called the Pool of Memories and I know that the Earth Lords were magic enough to remotely erupt a mountain. But does the Pool of Memories contain all memories in the world? Because that’s fairly impressive and just a bit creepy! Or does it just contain the Berserker’s memories since the Earth Lords were stalking him a little bit? How did they get the memories? Its going to turn out that the memories in the Pool of Memories way predate the Earth Lords so how the heck does this all work??

Come back to life, Shadow Lord, and explain your Font of Exposition!

Anyway.

SO! The Berserker goes back to prehistoric cave man times.

He was the sole survivor of a war party against another tribe and he had to run from them and was cornered near the “Cave of Glowing Walls.” Which is a cave. Which had glowing walls.

None who entered had ever returned but between the being beaten to death by clubs that you know and the death you don’t, Pre-Berserker picked the unknown.

“His pursuers laughed at his folly as he went into the cave. Inside, he saw the walls themselves emitting a horrible, unearthly light -- and the reamins of all those who had preceded him.”

“Within moments he too was felled by the lethal glow. He felt the life draining from him. But he did not die there. He was different from the others. Slowly, tortuously, he crawled to safety.”

“His nearly lifeless body tumbled down the rocky slope outside the cave... only to arise hours later, now surging with incredible power -- power bestowed upon him inside the cave of glowing walls!"

Okay. So. At this point I have to ask.

Is this just Vandal Savage? Is this one of those serial number filed off things so the Avengers can fight Vandal Savage?

Anyway, Pre-Berserker brushed himself up, marched right back to that enemy tribe, and killed the entire thing. For the cave also filled him with an unquenchable fury.

An unquenchable, undying fury.

Because he stopped aging.

And because he was always being extremely pissed and killing, people started calling him the Berserker.

And one day, much, much later, he was doing his favorite activity of killing in the city of Sumer when he caught the eye of a nobleman who thought to offer him money for him to kill specific people.

This turned the Berserker’s life around. It had never occurred to him that killing people was a career.

From that point on, he had direction to his life. He wandered the world as a mercenary and apparently was there and shaped history.

He helped set up the dynasties of the pharaohs. Helped with Alexander the Great’s conquests. But it gets even more bonkers.

His reputation became so great that actual factual aliens from another world showed up to hire him.

“At first he cringed in superstitious fear before these alien creatures... But once in battle he discovered that he enjoyed killing foes there as much as back on Earth... a feeling that would be oft-repeated as his exploits took him to scores of other worlds. The destinies of empires -- of entire planetary systems were decided by who hired him first.”

Been there, shaped history. IN SPAAAAAAAAACE.

And his space jobs paid him in sweet gear. And now we know where he got his sweet gear.

What I don’t understand is why he went back to Earth at all?

Yes, he probably could have conquered the Earth with all his sweet space gear. Maybe probably. Marvel’s kitchen sink goes back a long way. Turns out there was a Ghost Rider who ghost rode a flaming mammoth.

But either way, the guy didn’t have the ambition to do that. He was perfectly happy as long as someone paid him to murder people. Preferably in sweet gear that helped him more efficiently murder people.

He comes back to Earth and joins the Roman legions but why? He got to travel planet to planet to different battlefields and shape empires that spanned star systems. Shouldn’t Earth feel kind of small after that?

But he has to be on Earth and joining the Roman legions otherwise how could the Earth Lords get wind of him and scheme to hit him in the face with a volcano.

That was established last time so now we need him to reach that point. Even though the newly established intermediate points make that endpoint suddenly weird.

But it be like that sometimes.

The Font of Exposition runs out of backstory just as the city runs out of ‘still existing.’

So the Avengers and Rachel rush into the Quinjet and fly away just as the city falls apart into the sea.

Gosh, I’m sure glad we spent time doing an elaborate funeral for Shadow Lord when his grave is now spilling into the ocean.

Rachel gets frustrated that all the evidence for this scoop that she rushed into danger for just sank and that she’s going to be a publicist for bad movies forever.

Simon “Wonder” Williams counters with ‘hey at least you’ll still have a job’ considering he bailed on filming to go do superhero stuff.

And indeed we see Merriwether T. Fenniwell, telegram man, delivering a telegram to Avengers Mansion.

“Mr. Williams.

Due to unexplained absence from set of Guns of the Gunman you have been replaced. Find yourself another job and another agent.

Sid Sterling

Star-Maker”

Your mistake there was not telling anyone you were going and why, Simon. You possibly would have been fired anyway. But you only have yourself to blame for not even making an attempt. Geez.

Anyway, don’t feel too bad for Simon. Back on the Quinjet he’s apologizing for being rude to Rachel on the set, saying he was just frustrated with his own lousy acting.

And Rachel slips her hotel key into his pocket and tells him to make it up to her by coming by for dinner.

The original plan was to drop Rachel off at the film set before going to look for the Berserker but whoops, they find him first.

“The Avengers gaze in awe at the scene of carnage and devastation below them -- a scene reminiscent of war or natural disaster. But this bloody tableau was crafted by no clash of armies nor by earthquake or flood. It was created by... the Beserker!”

When they find him he seems to be digging a hole in the ground with his super space spear.

Logically, Beast and Iron Man knock him into the hole.

That’s the smart move, right?

No.

The Berserker had been digging up a space chariot pulled by space robot horses. And I like to think that the Avengers knocked him right into it.

I do wonder about how the chariot ended up buried and how the Berserker found it so quick. I’m not worried about how it still functions perfectly after two thousand years. It be like that in comics.

Anyway, the space chariot has more to recommend it than just not having to feed or maintain it for two thousand years. Its also got a demon mouth carved in the back that leaves a trail of fire as the chariot flies. Yeah, also its a flying chariot.

And its not mundane hot fire. Its force field space cold fire. Uh, so basically think the tron light cycle walls.

Because the Berserker flies circles around the Avengers to enclose them in a cage of non-burning fire.

The fire does still consume oxygen and apparently the fire cage is air tight so its going to burn up all the oxygen inside and asphyxiate the Avengers.

Well, Vision and Jocasta will be fine. Oh, and Iron Man. He has his own built-in respiration system. But the rest will die and that’s a bummer.

THANKFULLY IRON MAN IS WONDERFULLY AND BIZARRELY PREPARED FOR THIS EXACT SCENARIO.

If this specific ability ever comes up again, I’m going to lose my shit because its so specifically tailored to this plot. I love Iron Man’s ridiculous swiss-army armor sometimes.

So you know his shoulders? Those things on top of his arms? Kind of a raised area on his armor?

Those are apparently epaulets and they’re ‘break shoulder in case of asphyxiation emergency.’ He rips them right off to pull out two emergency oxygen cylinders.

The idea is that the breathing Avengers will pass the two cylinders around judiciously and hopefully they’ll last long enough between everyone that the fire cage will burn itself out.

Which does happen. Good job, Iron Man.

Meanwhile, Berserker has scooped up Rachel because “this woman is but a reward that is a great warrior’s due.” Yeah, he’s that kind of immortal guy from prehistoric times. And also he’s been under rock for two thousand years.

Rachel protests being damseled, which honestly two times in as many issues isn’t great, but Berserker is like ‘hush i’m working’ and then he blows up St. Giovanna’s Cathedral, just because he can. And then he blows up a town, off-panel, to reveal a secret city that Caesar built to honor him.

Geez. How much stuff does he have buried around here?

The Berserker lands his space chariot and decides that two thousand year is a long enough vacation so he needs to get back to his work because if you love what you do, truly you’ll never work a day in your immortality.

Berserker: “The instruments of war may change over the centuries, but the nature of man never does! I shall easily sell my services -- as always -- the the highest bidders. Then will the land be once again awash with the blood of millions that will fall under my sword... and once again the planet -- nay the entire universe -- will know and fear the greatest warrior that ever lived!”

Like I said, he loves what he does. And is probably the best at what he does and it ain’t pretty?

He also tells Rachel to go inside this building that's been buried underground for two thousand years and put on some proper raiment.

I gave the space chariot a pass. It’s from space. But Rachel finds and puts on a dress that should have decayed a very long time ago. Is it a space dress? Its probably a space dress.

But the space dress decolletage prompts the Berserker to notice and recognize the necklace Shadow Lord gave Rachel.

When Rachel tells him how she came about them, Berserker is like ‘lol eat shit the Earth Lords, mine now’ and steals the necklace from Rachel to wear for himself.

And then the Avengers show up for some more action sequences.

Or, lets be honest, more chances for the Berserker to show off his sweet space gear.

He blows up the ground beneath the Avengers’ feet with his power sword, sending several tumbling into the Earth.

When Iron Man rays him with a repulsor, the Berserker smirkingly no-sells it, informing Iron Man that his fancy armor is actually fancy space armor.

Berserker: “Ha! The tyrants of Aturak IV built this armor to withstand a proton cannon. ... Surely it can handle the bite of a mosquito!”

Geez, not just repulsors, he’s also proofed against Iron Man’s mightiest weapon?

And then he follows it up by throwing a dagger at Vision. Vision scoffs that he’ll just go intangible and let the blade pass through. But, of course, its a space dagger, from the Arkossian system.

It sticks in intangible Vision and starts draining his energy.

For not knowing anything about the Avengers, he’s doing a good job at making them all look like chumps, with sweet space gear that seems selected to thwart them.

And that’s part of writing a credible threat, I suppose. Having said threat able to pose a decent challenge. But playground style ‘I do this’ ‘Nuh uh, my guy is immune’ doesn’t always make enthralling fight scene.

Anyway, speaking of selectively thwarted, Iron Man finds himself magnetized to Berserker’s shield. And whatever metal approaches Berserker’s shield must yield.

It has that metal disintegrating aura and apparently magnets.

Iron Man manages to pull away somehow, but the shield short-circuits one of his power pods (those roundy things on his hips) which knocks the armored Avenger unconscious.

And then! To add insult to injury! Berserker’s shield magnetically steals from his pocket the hotel key Rachel gave Wonder Man and disintegrates it. Guess Wonder Man isn’t getting lucky tonight.

But he is having an idea. One of those epiphany ideas where an unrelated but thematically similar or adjacent happenstance or utterance makes you figure out the whole thing.

A key happening reminds him of how the Shadow Lord could unlock a Shadow World and would not that imply a key?

So while Wasp does Berserker the first injury this whole fight by zapping him in the face (and then getting swatted, alas) Wonder Man grabs for the necklace Berserker took from Rachel.

Wonder Man tries to figure out how the pyramidal amulets on the necklace fit together but gets sword smacked by Berserker who doesn’t appreciate someone tugging on his new bling.

But the Avengers pull off some good teamwork combo attack.

Wanda uses her powers to make the probability that some columns will fall over be 100%. Captain America throws his mighty shield and the Berserker yields right into the path of the falling column. And Jocasta melts the falling column to try to cover him in molten rock, which is the one thing they know works.

But I suppose that a mere falling melting column doesn’t compare to an entire volcano or maybe he spent those 2,000 years thinking of exactly what to do in this situation. Because Berserker swings his sword above his head, diverting the molten rock away from him.

And then Berserker drags Jocasta into his metal disintegrating shield for trying to give him a hot shower.

He’s apparently familiar with or at least not too surprised at the concept of robots. He’s been to space, after all.

He also decides that rather than hold her against the shield until she completely disintegrates, that he’ll dunk her in the molten rock she had tried to use on him.

Beast finally climbs out of the hole that I assume he’s been in this whole time and tries to tackle Berserker but the guy just slams Beast into Scarlet Witch.

And now its just Captain America vs Berserker. Which of course means that Captain America is going to make a Thing of it.

Captain America: “Alright mister -- it’s just you and me now. And so long as one Avenger stands -- we’re not defeated.”

He kicks the energy space power sword out of Berserker’s grasp to Berserker’s surprise but Cap notes to himself that doing so sent a shock from the sword through his boot. Guess his soles aren’t rubber.

And since Cap got to say a cool thing, so does Berserker. Although substitute ‘cool’ for ‘kinda hurtful.’

Berserker: “Bah! A weapon is only need to battle a true warrior -- you are certainly less than that!”

And then Berserker slams his shield into Cap’s head, knocking him out. How ironic. He who lived by the shield was knocked out by the shield. Really makes you think.

Now all the Avengers lie sprawled unconscious at Berserker’s feet. And now that they’re unconscious, he can actually walk back some of the smack talk.

Berserker: “In truth, they were fine warriors but even they were nothing next to my power!”

I had been wondering. I wouldn’t think that he’d have fought many people like the Avengers in the past times. Maybe IN SPACE. You got the Kree and the Shi’ar up there.

Anyway, when I said that all the Avengers lie sprawled unconscious, I spoke in error.

Wasp was only stunned and now she’s been overlooked what with all the full-sized people lying about.

Her strategy now that she’s alone on the battlefield with the guy is... she flies up to him and zaps him in the face.

You did that last time, Wasp! And like last time, he just whaps you out of the air! With his hand this time, not a space energy power sword. But then he decides to step on you, deciding that she’ll be the first of the Avengers to die.

Yeah, he doesn’t seem much for the ‘they were honorable foes, I’ll let them go so I can fight them again.’

However, now Wonder Man is up and he rushes Berserker to grab at the necklace again.

Berserker unveils one more sweet space gear. He grabs Wonder Man’s wrists and uses his gauntlets to sap his strength. So even though Wonder Man has super strength (that whole thing about how he punches as hard as Thor’s hammer hits), he’s getting weaker and Berserker is getting stronger.

But in a very comic booky way, he summons up all his remaining strength for one last effort.

Wonder Man breaks Berserker’s grip and grabs the necklace. This time he manages to make the pyramid go into the other pyramid, pulling the wearer -- Berserker -- into the Shadow World.

Wasp recovers one more time and since she half knows whats going on, decides to make it so that the trip is one way.

She blasts the necklace, shattering the pyramids so that it can’t be used again.

Berserker: “I’m disappearing... this cannot be... the Berserker cannot be beaten...”

And then he’s gone. Never to darken Earth’s doorstep again. Trapped forever alone in an empty the shadow realm.

Yeah, this was his only appearance. Kind of a shame. I don’t think he’s a unique villain but he was fun. Being a long-ago sealed evil that doesn’t even really want to take over the world, just get paid, gets bonus points from me. Its less generic, anyway. Plus, he had an absurd arsenal and his limited ambition means he’d have been great muscle for another villain.

Not sure I buy him as a threat to the whole world but he’ll do a lot of damage on the way.

Both him and the Shadow Lord were almost too interesting to be one and dones.

Anyway. I can’t get over what Wasp says when Wonder Man congratulates her for figuring out his plan to trap the Berserker.

Wasp: “I’m glad I helped... but I’ll never forgive myself for destroying such a beautiful piece of jewelry.”

Sure, Jan.

Anyway, when the rest of the Avengers wake up, Wonder Man explains it all. How he figured out that the necklace was a key from what the Shadow Lord said when he gave it to Rachel and that the Shadow Lord entered the dimension at sunrise so logically the gate could only be reopened at sunset (???? how did he figure this out? And also what? And why?).

Since he apparently had to run out the clock, he used his unholy ... ACTING TALENT to take a dive when Berserker clocked him and then pretended to be knocked out while the rest of the team got the shit beaten out of them and almost died. “Luckily for us all, it worked.”

Wonder Man: “Too bad Mr. Bertolini wasn’t here to see it. It was the best acting I ever did!”

Rachel: “You sure had me fooled, Simon. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

Oh. So. I guess the scene at the movie set was to set up this... character arc? For Wonder Man. That he’d learn to do an acting and use it to resolve the conflict.

The dramatic irony though is that his ass is fired off that movie for leaving to go on this journey of self-discovery slash fighting some ancient dudes.

Oof.

Follow @essential-avengers​ if you think acting is just as important as lasers in being a superhero. Or for other reasons. I’m not picky. Like, reblog, comment. These are also actions. That are important to being a superhero. Maybe.

[pawcerbic]

i wanna be a 9 ft blue guy [PAWRT 1]

“HEY GUYS GUESS WHO’S BACK!” A quick turn on Meulin’s rotating chair, she finger guns  off screen with a grin, “QUEUE THE COPYCAT MEWSIC!” And suddenly the very iconic guess who’s back, back again slim shady music plays for about 5 seconds until her intro card interrupts the montage of her dancing.

The intro card rolls in with her logo animated to burst in and bouncing to some bubbly royalty free music for a few seconds it quickly transitions back to Meulin’s new small setup she’s made in her designated room in Equius’s Earth manor. As soon as it transitions back Meulin is seen running to her chair off screen and jumping onto it and almost falling over. The wheels make loud squeaking, signs they should probably not be put under all this strain, and she spins off screen with a loud squeal.

She finally rows herself back to be on screen and she leans over onto her desk, perching her head up on one hand and grinning.

“WOW! It’s been kind of furefur huh?” She starts off with a small giggle. “I know I haven’t given mew guys many updates since the whole bad mewjo thing, but it’s all better meow and I have so much to talk apawt!” She clasps her hands together and as she does Arthour knocks gently and enters to peek inside. He sees the lights and cameras and looks a bit startled. He starts to nervously fix his mustache and look away.

“SPEAKING OF LOOK WHO’S HERE!!!!” Meulin jumps up happily and makes an iconic Will Smith pose gesture towards Arthour who looks even more startled now that she’s acknowledged him towards her small powerful camera and lights.

“This guy is one of the BEST things that’s happened to me!” She walks over and gives this massive horse lusus a hug and he simply responds with gentle pats to her head. “I’ve been taking care of him like he’s been taking care of me and it’s been supurr mice! I learned how to use this hold on hold on hold on!!!” She gestures frantically with her hands up and rushes to search through her closet for her bow and arrow. Meanwhile for a few minutes Arthour is left on screen breathing and sweating heavily.

He taps his hooves against the ground impatiently until Meulin returns with her bow and arrow that she was given. A black set with royal blue accents. “It’s so lux mew guys, it’s something highbloods purrobably use and it’s so cool to hold! It makes me feel like a warrior sometimes” Meulin then goes on describing her lessons and how happy the grand lusus makes her. How patient he is and how much he somewhat reminds her of Pounce.

Once she finishes embarrassing Arthour she lets him leave and she quickly grabs a hold of the camera. “Vlog mode!” She says while almost dropping the camera and shrieking “NO!” While doing so. A deep sigh, “Okay okay time to show off the mew digs!!” She skips over and the camera view is VERY shaky until she steadies her hand and starts showing off the interior of Equius’s home. “So this is where I’ve been! It’s kind of fancy fur me, but hey it’s better than being stuck in a small block until someone adopts me!” She slides down the railing of the stairs and lands gracefully onto her feet. Meanwhile waiting at the bottom of the stairs was Arthour giving her a scolding look and shaking his head. She giggles happily. “Sorry Arthour! ANYWAYS--” She turns the camera back to her quickly. “Furst things furst I’m in the mewd to do something diffurent.” She says with a mischievous grin and then disappears off into Equius’s old bedroom and starts walking towards his closet. “So the troll who owns the place is kind of sweaty and gross, but I pawlways wondered what was his style like back when he was just a kit! Beclaws that stuff purrobably fits me right? You know where I’m going with this?” She’s smiling and turning the camera to show his wardrobe and what’s inside. Lots of tank tops, some shorts and socks, very eccentric and different attire than what she’s used to.

“Its time fur a transfurmeowtion furm your favfurite beauty guru” she winks and the video transitions to her in his bathroom wearing his old tank top that looks like a dress on her and trying to set up the camera in a good place. “Shit wHY IS THIS SWEATY!!” She gags and finally sets up the camera. “So I call this catoure a la sweat!” She’s just wearing his shirt as a dress. She then pulls it up and ties it off to be a crop top and slips into his shorts quickly which fall off almost instantly. She lets out an annoyed whine and starts hiking them up so high even Signless would be jealous. “THIS IS FASHION” She turns around after fastening a belt to make sure it stayed up and then poses while looking over her shoulder. “When I figure out a mew outfit guys I’m going out like this and we’ll see how many catpliments I get! But I’m going to try my supurr best to make this look catually decent.”

One fashion montage later and it ends with Meulin having cut one of the tank tops into a cute crop top, cutting off some of his symbol. The bottom half were his shorts that she managed to sew into her size, pairing it with a black leather belt that she made the shorts more form fitting for her body. She had cut the shorts enough to justify the long socks that she wore as stockings and decided that her own pair of boots would work with this. She puts on the broken shades and lets her mane of hair go wild. She poses in front of the mirror and laughs. “Hey this looks purtty good!!!” She turns and suddenly sees Arthour making confused noises as to why this room was open and the video is quickly cut short with Meulin dropping everything and running with the camera.

There’s a hard cut to an extra scene with Meulin laying in bed with a laptop in front of her. “Okay editing Meu Meu here and I purromise to get you guys a pawrt two, beclaws uh… lots of stuff happened BUT I GOT IT PURROMISE BYE!!”

Queue the end card.

[thorn-ffxiv]

.|a fire, part I

She was a vision.

Theodosia was donned in dancer’s garb the color of a deep red merlot, filmy and see-through in strategic layers. Gold chains and what appeared to be coins hung around her waist and from the lower half of the cloth covering her chest. She dazzled, a broad smile on her lips as she moved her curvaceous figure as fluidly as water. Her hips sway and lift from side to side, her belly back and forth as her hands and arms move in time with her, the bangles around her wrists clinking together, though you couldn’t hear it over the music. 

The rhythm started slow, achingly so, and she watched the crowd through golden eyes lined in black. Her dark brown hair was long, reaching her waist in a mass of wild curls, yarn wrapped around different strands to add subtle hints of red, of blue, purple, gold. She flipped it and then straightened up with a wink before turning as she shook her hips, lifting her hair again to reveal the full movements of her body. A shake of tambourine seems to be her queue to face the audience again and she does, exactly on time, a sly grin on painted lips. As the music picked up in pace, so too did the dancer. It was like magic, the way the crowd of the carnival had fixated on her. 

Though he was not the only gentleman transfixed on her, it was an Ishgardian nobleman that found himself closest to the stage to watch, sipping slowly on a pint of ale he’d bought at a stall. Earlier in the day, he’d seen all the sideshow had to offer; a bearded woman, a fortune teller, triplets that were born conjoined that could jump rope, a strong man that could lift two fully grown Roegadyn men on either arm, a woman with so many piercings in her face that it was nearly impossible to tell if she had skin there at all, a little boy whose legs were fused together, giving the impression of a mermaid’s tail. The gils on the side of his neck were prosthetic, but looking too closely at that would give away the illusion they were going for. He was kept in a large tank filled with water and given treats by onlookers. A wild coeurl was tamed in a tent by a man with nothing more than a whip and small stool. Merchants peddling their wares and food called out from stalls lining the fair grounds. 

The air smelled heavily of smoke and food and incense, of sweaty bodies. Even still, Gaspard knew why he’d come. It had been Theodosia in the poster he’d seen, painted with one of her sly smiles and her wild curls and hips, beckoning all who walked by to attend the Carver Family Sideshow in the heart of the Twelveswood. For all of the oddities he’d seen, nothing compared to the heart thief dancing upon a heavy oak stage, accompanied by a band of men playing her music towards the side. 

Theodosia slid a scarf from her hips and crouched to wrap it around Gaspard’s neck, smiling at him as she slid a finger beneath his chin and reclaimed her scarf again, light footsteps bringing her back to center stage. The young woman, with glitter on her face, had smelled of lilacs and amber. She was exotic to a man who had known only the pale, stony faces of Ishgardian noblewomen; delicate roses, the lot of them, with the thorns to match. But Theodosia was a wildflower, never to thrive in a carefully planted garden. She was not just a spark; she was an all-consuming fire threatening to burn him alive beneath his collar underneath that warm, starry summer’s night. 

When the carnival ended for the night, there was still a touch of wildness about it, about the laughter and voices and music carrying over the air long after the attendees had departed. Gaspard had spied their caravans and tents not far from the fairgrounds and followed the group back as they shook their tambourines and danced like fae creatures down a forest path. Theodosia was among the dancing girls, giggling and twirling and speaking in loud voices, but with words he couldn’t quite understand. 

In truth, his ulterior motive to meet Theodosia lead him into uncomfortable territory. He was unfamiliar with the Shroud, and the deeper they got, the stranger the legendary forest felt. It felt like eyes peeked out from beneath greenery at times. It sent a tingle up his spine, to feel as though he was such an outsider that he was being watched. The deeper they got, he began to wonder if they really were a troupe of fae, disappearing into the forest and accidentally bringing him along with them into a realm he was not to tread. 

Before it got to that point, though, they reached their campsite. By good fortune, Theodosia waved the other girls ahead to stray off towards a creek right on the other side of the path, and Gaspard continued to follow. It didn’t enter his mind even once that this was strange behavior, to follow a complete stranger - and a rather young woman, at that - to a secluded place. He just knew that he wanted to be nearer to her, to hear her voice and catch her scent and to see the way her golden eyes sparkled like the sun when he got close. And when he did get close enough to see her again, she was bending over the water, catching it in her hands and closing her eyes as she spread it over her face.

“Excuse me--” he started, and she jumped, whipping around with her eyes wide. The man held his hands up with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just seem to have gotten a bit turned around,” Gaspard said. Theodosia narrowed her eyes at him. He had to be in his late forties, maybe his early fifties, but he was attractive; a tall, stately Elezen man, donned in clothes he probably thought looked humble but were, in reality, worth more than she’d made in the past month. His skin was pale like snow, and his hair like salt and pepper, neatly kept and combed. 

“The forest does that to the unsuspecting,” Theodosia responded after slowly straightening back up from her crouched position on the ground. “Were you not paying attention to the path you took, sir?”

“I was -- but it seems that it only lead to you,” he replied with a smile, revealing a full set of gleaming white teeth. The girl raised her eyebrows and smirked with a shake of her head. 

“That’s a good line to use, if you’re one to use a line,” she said. She extended a small hand out to the stranger. “My name is Theodosia Finney.” 

“Gaspard,” he said in turn, stepping closely to take the offered hand and lift it to his lips, kissing the back of it as he looked up at her from his position bent at the waist. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Theodosia. I saw you, earlier, during your performance. It was... incredible.”

“Ah.” There was a touch of suspicion in her tone, but he couldn’t let her stop talking. Her voice was so sweet, so lyrical. He felt like he was getting drunk just on her presence. “I remember you, sir -- the gentleman who I let borrow my scarf for a moment.” 

“And how very kind of you it was, Theodosia.” Theodosia. Theodosia. Theodosia. Even her name sounded like a song. From a distance, he could still hear the music and the laughter that seemed to surround her people-- and there was the heady scent of cooking spices, too, ones he’d only smelled when the chefs back home and at parties were instructed to go for something spicier, more exotic. The girl seemed to notice the turn of his head, and half-smiled.

“You must be tired. You’re not from around here,” she said. It wasn’t a question. “Come -- you can share some dinner with us. We have enough to go around tonight. You won’t find a better cook than my mother in all the world.”

“A bold claim, but I don’t take you to be one to lie,” Gaspard said with a grin. “I’d be happy to join you, Theodosia. Thank you. I’ll admit that my stomach is rumbling. To break bread with a girl as beautiful as you certainly must be a blessing from the gods themselves.” 

He kissed her hand again, and their eyes met again. Theodosia knew from the time he’d first looked at her back at the fairgrounds that he wanted her. She knew that look in men’s eyes. Few of them were good at hiding it. His words might have been considered sugary were it not for the tone he used, honest and earnest but sultry. His accent betrayed his Ishgardian descent. Handsome and charming and polite, eager to meet her family and break bread with them - strange. She’d taken wealthy lovers a couple of times before, and they’d no interest in anyone she was related to, no interest to see how she lived. Maybe the man was just a flirt with a genuinely empty stomach. 

“You’re quite the flatterer,” Theodosia teased, reclaiming her hand. “Come along, then. We’ll not let you starve.”

“I’ve heard that if you eat with the fae, then they have some hold over you,” Gaspard said as he followed the girl away from the creek and back towards the camp. “Is that your grand plan?”

“Hm? Oh, no. You were mine since you gave me your name,” she said with a smile over her shoulder, golden eyes dancing with mirth. “Never tell a fae your real name, Gaspard.”

He fancied himself rather in love, then and there-- to hells with the nagging wife and newborn child he had back in Ishgard. He’d have followed Theodosia to the ends of the earth if it meant she’d smile at him like that again. And the poor girl, unsuspecting, unaware of a ring he never wore, unaware that he had claimed his trip to be one of business rather than pleasure when he departed from his manor and from his little family. 

There’d be no winners at the end of this game. 

[ntrending]

Dust to dust: How Earth’s most advanced observatory is unraveling our origins

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/dust-to-dust-how-earths-most-advanced-observatory-is-unraveling-our-origins/

Dust to dust: How Earth’s most advanced observatory is unraveling our origins

SAN PEDRO DE ATACAMA Visiting the Atacama Large Millimeter/Sub-millimeter Array (ALMA) is not for the faint of heart. After driving up the barren plateau to meet my guide Danilo Vidal, ALMA’s visit coordinator, the first stop was a health check. Just to hang out for a few hours at the Operations Support Facility where ALMA’s staff lives and works to solve the mysteries of the cosmos, I had to prove that my heart beat not too fast and not to slow, and that oxygen saturated at least 80 percent of my blood (at a recent sea-level physical I scored 96 percent).

But the extreme environment hasn’t stopped nearly two dozen countries from coming together to build the most ambitious astronomical tool on the planet. Getting 66 state-of-the-art antennas to operate in sync at a facility nearly as high as Everest’s base camp takes hundreds of engineers and other staff operating with military precision. Now fully functional after decades of construction and six years of upgrades, the institution is finally devoting much of its power to one of its main goals: watching for the heat glow of dust as it swirls around young stars. Already ALMA observations are rewriting the story of how those systems go from clouds of sand to families of planets, which is also the story of how Earth became the third rock from our sun.

A blood oxygen saturation of 91 percent won me clearance to carry on, although Vidal handed me a single-use canister of oxygen just in case. Then we climbed into his SUV and he hooked up his own nasal hose leading to two heavy duty oxygen tanks. “Regulations,” he said, as we started the drive up to the top of the Chajnantor Plateau, cactuses and vicuñas rolling past at the mandated 20 miles per hour.

Our eyes bias us toward the rainbow hues we can see, but many other types of light permeate the universe. Stars burn across and beyond the visible spectrum, black holes emit x-rays and radio waves, and stellar explosions shoot out rays of many varieties. Only by looking at all these different “colors” can we get a complete picture of the cosmos.

ALMA, which looks at light waves about a millimeter in length, functions as the world’s greatest set of night vision goggles. Objects emit different types of light depending on their temperature, and the observatory’s antennas let it pick out objects that aren’t hot enough to shine like stars. To its eyes, cool dust glows brightly against the frigid background of space, similar to how warm bodies shine to infrared cameras. In fact, ALMA is blind to visible light altogether, which lets it watch the skies both day and night.

The story of dust is really the story of everything we can see, which is why the astronomical communities of North America, Asia, and Europe banded together with the Chilean government and spent 1.5 billion dollars to build an observatory on top of the world’s driest mountain. Clouds of hydrogen in space collapse into stars, spinning up disks of leftover dust that eventually swirl into the planets, asteroids, and comets that make up solar systems. We can study our own cosmic neighborhood up close, but researchers ache for more diverse, younger examples to sort patterns from coincidences.

Computer models go a long way toward that goal, but there’s no substitute for images catching the planet-birthing process in action. Previous millimeter instruments lacked the necessary power, but on this front ALMA has been a game changer. “It’s rare that you get this big of a leap,” says Sean Andrews, a researcher at the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics. “This is like going from a little handheld telescope to the Hubble space telescope.”

At the top of the plateau I could immediately see how ALMA gets those money shots. Even without as much as a blade of grass in sight to help your brain calibrate size, the sprawling Array Operations Site looks huge. But before I could see the antennas up close, it was time for another health check. We entered what Vidal says now counts as the highest technical building in the world after a Nepalese train station stopped working last year, and I narrowly received clearance to continue the tour with 3% oxygen saturation to spare.

ALMA is an interferometer rather than a telescope, splitting its operations among 66 large dishes that span an area impossible for any single instrument—more than a mile across. That was the size when I visited, anyway—each of the 100-ton antennas is portable. Two monstrous forklifts, nicknamed Otto and Lore, lug a couple of antennas per day in an unceasing dance that, over the course of months, blows up the array to an unparalleled ten miles across. By expanding and contracting, astronomers can prioritize either detail or scope in a cosmological version of the smartphone’s pinch to zoom function. They just have to make sure the dishes stay plugged in the whole time (the forklifts have a battery system that supplies electricity). If the power fails and the internal machinery warms much beyond its operating temperature of 450 degrees F below zero, the driver will be left holding a multi-million dollar brick.

Fortunately that hasn’t happened yet. Finally at full power, the array creates images ten times sharper than it did during its 2011 debut, a resolution that increasingly allows astronomers to grasp the finer details of planetary formation.

The first step in a dust grain’s journey from “fluffy sand” to a proper world depends as much on how it communes with its neighbors as it does on the disk at large, according to Karin Öberg, the leader of Harvard’s astrochemistry group and one of five North American representatives on ALMA’s board. Laboratory work suggests that planetary seeds start by becoming sticky, gaining an ice coating through collisions with hydrogen and oxygen. Picking out specific elements from hundreds of light years away is tough, but ALMA has spotted extraterrestrial sugar and alcohol.

Growing larger than icy dust bunnies seemed theoretically impossible for years, empirical evidence beneath our feet notwithstanding. The spinning forces inside a disk should tear dust clumps apart before they can swell beyond the size of a rice grain, models predicted, unless somehow particles were gathering in special, denser areas.

A team led by astrophysicist Nienke van der Marel of the NRC Herzberg Institute for Astrophysics in Victoria, Canada snapped the first direct images of just such a “dust trap” while at Leiden University in the Netherlands in 2013, confirming decades of modeling. “People doing simulations of processes in a disk were working almost independently of observers,” she recalls. “Theory had drifted from observations and ALMA really brought that back together.”

Now the observatory’s new data has the simulators playing defense. When ALMA trained its dishes on HL Tau, a young star ringed by a dusty cloud 450 light years from Earth, it should have seen a smooth disk. Planets take millions of years to coalesce, the thinking went, and this system was barely a tenth that old. Yet the images came back in 2014 showing an incandescent red disk split by a half dozen crisp grooves—likely signs of baby planets hoovering up dust as they orbit. Now, a soon-to-be-published survey of 20 such disks led by Sean Andrews confirms that HL Tau is more rule than exception. However planets form, ALMA’s night vision is revealing, they’re doing it everywhere— and fast.

Returning to the Operations Support Facility halfway down the plateau, Vidal and I ran into two Italian filmmakers wandering the halls after failing their health check. They had two hours to wait for their second—and final—chance to pass. Vidal speculated that they’d ignored instructions to resist the temptation of coffee at breakfast.

Now safe to drink caffeine, we sat down for tea with Matias Radiszcz, a bearded data analyst from Santiago and unsung hero of this kind of operation. Radiszcz does battle with the facility’s main enemy: humidity. Even in a desert so dry that parts haven’t seen rain since the days of Isaac Newton, traces of water vapor always hang in the air. Radiszcz adjusts antennas to adapt to the humidity in real time. He also takes shifts as the Astronomer on Duty, deciding which observations to run out of the hundreds in the queue.

Between the altitude and the often nocturnal schedule, ALMA engineers have to get used to leading groggy lives, but participating in the unraveling of the Earth’s origin story makes the week-long shifts away from his family and the sleepless nights worthwhile. “The motivating thing is to be in the place where it’s happening,” Radiszcz says. “The Earth is like an oasis in the universe, and you can understand the value of humanity and the fragility that is life.”

By the time Vidal sent me on my way back to the town of San Pedro, the Atacama desert’s local oasis, the sun was just starting to edge below the horizon as the Earth spun Chile away from its rays. I hopped in the rental car and slowly drove back down the mountainside, a thin cloud of dust swirling behind me.

The reporting for this article was partially supported by a grant from the National Science Foundation.

Written By Charlie Wood