#also some of this science is seriously questionable

[sarcasticbabywhispererjess]

The symptoms of right hemiplegia (right sided paralysis) and expressive aphasia (difficulty speaking) from a brain bleed does not equate to brain death. Who are these writers and why can't they ever consult actual medical professionals? Having just those symptoms after a traumatic brain injury definitely does not qualify the patient to be a heart donor. What the heck was happening in that writers room?

#bones #season 6 #binge watch #i wish i was a medical consultant on these shows #on every show #also some of this science is seriously questionable #i could write paragraphs and paragraphs about the sketchy sciencce

[keelanrosa]

terfs when a study shows literally anything positive about trans people/transitioning: 'hm i think this requires some fact-checking. Were those researchers REALLY unbiased? Because if they were biased this doesn't count and if they weren't knowingly biased they probably were unconsciously biased, woke media affects so much these days. Have there been any other studies on this? Because if there haven't been this could be an outlier and if there have been and they all agree that's a bit odd, why aren't there any outliers, and if there have been and any disagree we really won't know the truth until we very thoroughly analyze them all, will we? Were there enough subjects for a good sample size? Did every single subject involved stay involved through the whole study because if they didn't we should be sure nothing shady was going on resulting in people dropping out. Are we 110% sure all the subjects were fully honest and at no point were embarrassed or afraid to admit they didn't love transitioning to the people in charge of their transition? Are we 110% sure none of the subjects were manipulated into thinking they were happy with their transition? In fact we should double-check what they think with their parents, because if the subjects and their parents disagree it's probably because they've been manipulated but their cis parents have not and are very unbiased. How many autistic subjects were there because if there weren't enough then this doesn't really study the overlap between autistic and trans and if there were too many then we just don't know enough about what causes that overlap to be sure this study really explains being trans and isn't just about being autistic. How many AFAB subjects were there because if there weren't enough this is just another example of prioritizing AMAB people and ignoring the different struggles of girls and women and if there were too many how do we know sexism didn't affect the results. Was the study double-blinded? We all know double-blinded is the most reliable so if this one wasn't that's a point against it even if the thesis literally physically could not be double-blinded. Look i'm not being transphobic, i want what's best for trans people! Really! But as a person who is not trans and therefore objective in a way they cannot possibly be, i just think we should only take into account Good Science here. You want to be following science and not being manipulated or experimented upon by something unscientific, right?'

terfs when they see a study of 45 subjects so old it predates modern criteria for gender dysphoria and basically uses 'idk her parents think she's too butch', run by a guy who practiced conversion therapy, 'confirmed' by a guy who treated the significant portion of subjects who didn't follow up as all desisting, definitely in the category of 'physically cannot double-blind this', completely contradicted by multiple other studies done on actual transgender subjects, but can be kinda cited as evidence against transitioning if you ignore everything else about it: 'oOOH SEE THIS IS WHAT WE'RE TALKIN BOUT. SCIENCE. Just good ol' unbiased thorough analysis. I see absolutely no reason to dig any deeper on this and if you think it's wrong you're the one being unscientific. It's really a shame you've been so thoroughly brainwashed by the trans agenda and can't even accept science when you see it. Maybe now that someone has finally uncovered this long-lost study from 1985, we can make some actual progress on the whole trans problem.'

#science #transphobia #cass review #less 'cass review' generally more 'zucker specifically' because this same problem exists outside cass #have lost count of the number of times i've seen 'well THAT study may have said most trans kids persist but it MUST be wrong' #'there's another study says the exact opposite. that one's right. obviously.' #but cass is why i'm annoyed by it now #normally i don't have a problem with critical observations and questions. yeah check your science! that's good! #there have been some bullshit studies and some bullshit interpretations of good studies! scientific literacy is important! #and normally also am willing to pretend the people pulling reaction 1 on some studies and reaction 2 on others are. not the same group. #but now there's a ton of cass supporters tryna say 'oh the cass review didn't reject or downplay anything for being pro-trans!' #'some studies just weren't given much weight for being poor evidence! not our fault those were all studies with results trans people like!' #…….………….aight explain why zucker's findings are used for the 'percentage of trans kids who don't stay trans' stat instead of anyone else's. #would've been more scientifically accurate to say 'yeah we just don't know.' #'studies have been done but none of them fit our crack criteria sooooo *shrug*' #like COME ON at least PRETEND you're genuinely checking scientific correctness and not looking for excuses to weed out undesirable results #am also mad about zucker in particular because his is possibly the most famous bullshit study #quite bluntly if you're doing trans research and think 'yeah this one seems reasonable' you. are maybe not well-informed enough for the job #there's just no way you genuinely look at the research with an eye toward accurate science regardless of personal bias #and walk away thinking 'hm that zucker fellow seems reasonable. competent scientists will respect that citation.' #that's one or two steps above doing a review of vaccine science and seriously citing wakefield's mmr-causes-autism study #it doesn't matter what the rest of your review says people are gonna have OPINIONS on that bit #and outside anti-vaxxers most of those opinions will be 'are you actually the most qualified for this because ummmm.' #people who agree with everything else will still think someone more competent could've done a much better job #people who disagree with everything else will point to that as proof you don't know shit and why should we listen to you #anyway i'd love a hugeass trans science review with actual fucking standards hmu if you know of one cause this ain't it #……does tumblr still put a limit on how many tags you can include guess me and my tag essay are about to find out.

[bambi-lesbian-posts]

Successfully talked about bugs to 3 of my coworkers today (one of them told me to say some things I liked about moths because I said I like bugs a lot [as an aspiring entomologist] and I started talking and couldn't wouldn't stop). Successfully transitioned to talking about ants after another coworker said "this is awesome it's like National Geographic, how do you know this" which was exactly the point where I informed them all that I am an aspiring entomologist who wants to focus on hymenoptera (ants, bees, and wasps) with a special interest in ants and THAT was the point where I went on a long tangent about honeypot ants because I feel like they are one of the best gateway ants to introduce to people who dislike ants.

Anyway, the initial coworker was clearly regretting ever asking me any questions. The National Geographic coworker seemed ecstatic, and the 3rd coworker was just sort of along for the ride due to proximity

#i had a blast though #so much fun seriously #also earlier in the shift i talked to the initial coworker about some chemistry stuff because he asked a question that had #a specific chemistry related answer that had something to do with my Chem Lecture topic yesterday #so he started asking me random science related questions sort of as a joke i think bc he was under the impression that #i was a human encyclopedia. or a savant or something . which i am definitely not btw #and thats what got us into that whole pickle #but i love pickles so everyone suffered except for me and my coworker that likes documentaries

[spandexbutterfly4lyfe]

Okay I’m currently furious that migraines are often so blindly easy to treat and I had to find this out myself at the age of 26 when I’ve been to a neurologist since I was 11 lol so I’m about to teach you two neat and fast little tricks to deal with pain!

The first is the sternocleidomastoid muscle, or the SCM muscle.

This big red section is responsible for pain around the eye, cheekbone, and jaw, as well as some temple pain. Literally all you have to do is angle your head down a little, angle it away from the side that hurts, and then you can gently pinch and rub that muscle. I find it best to start at the bottom and travel upwards. The relief is so immediate! You can increase pressure as you feel comfortable doing so.

Here is a short and easy video showing this in action

The second is a fast and easy stretch that soothes your vagus nerve, which is the nerve responsible for calming you down. The vagus nerve, for those unfamiliar, is stimulated by deep breathing such as yawning, sighing, singing, or taking a deep breath to calm your anger in a tense situation.

You can stretch this out by sitting up as straight as possible (this does not have to be perfect to work) and interlacing your fingers. Put your hands on the back of your head with your thumbs going down the sides of your neck and, while keeping your face forward, look all the way to one side with just your eyes. Hold that until you feel the urge to breathe deeply or yawn, or until you can tell there’s a change. Then do the same thing on the other side. When you put your arms down, you should clearly be able to turn your head farther in both directions. If the first session doesn’t get rid of your migraine, rest and repeat as many times as necessary. I even get a little fancy with it and roll my eyes up and down along the outer edge sometimes to stretch as much as I can.

If you need a visual here’s a good video on it. I know some of the language they use seems questionable but this is real and simple science and should not be discarded because it’s been adopted by the trendy wellness crowd!

I seriously cannot believe I didn’t hear a word of this from any doctor in my life. Additionally, if you get frequent recurring migraines, you may want to see a dietician. Migraines can be caused by foods containing histamines, lectin, etc. and can also be caused by high blood pressure in specific situations such as exercise, stress, and even sex.

If any of this information helps you I’d love to hear it btw! It’s so so fast and easy to do. Good luck!

#migraines #migraine symptoms #disability #disability stuff #disability pride

[ko-eko-ev-go-ms]

It continues to trip me up how much human brains are just weird organic computers

#thoughts #oni talks #oni vents #additionally wild that the easiest ways for me to explain brain stuff are generally in computer or video game terms despite the fact I’m #notoriously awful with computers (and to a lesser extent video games) although I won’t if my natural inclination would be different if I #didn’t have trauma related to computers/if maybe it’s the classic adhd interest based learning difference? unknown tbh #I still really wanna go to school to study people but academics is fucked as hell so making that work will be a personal hell for me #but also I have so many theories and data I can’t do anything super tangible with coz I’m not in an academic setting so even if i wanted to #talk about stuff and work on it no one would take me seriously w/o that academic background no matter how much effort I’d put in learning it #on my own for my entire life at this point it won’t matter if it’s not on some level acknowledged by an academic system I despise tbh #it’s one of those things that makes me miss my dad coz we used to commiserate together about these sorts of things tho he made it work far #better than I have been able to. i wish i could ask him science questions again. #anyway human brains are so fascinating but also I really wish I was better at explaining myself analysis of people I feel like I’m good #enough at this point to be like partway understood coz I’ve done so much practice on my own coz I tend to rehearse explanations ahead of tim #but its still often misunderstood or misconstrued & it’s understandable a lot of the time coz like most other people aren’t spending a ton #of their free time thinking about and researching how people work/analyzing those around them+themselves vs me whose been doing since like #I dont remember the exact time but I do remember being really young & making the conscious decision to study & analyze my family for example #so that I could be helpful & translate their words to each other better + ppl often don’t see things about themselves that others do #also forever thinking about the human brain/experience in relation to the sims & video game commands lmao #currently trying to explain save states in the human brain to ppl but no one knows wtf I’m talking about #& researching academic terms that are close to what I want doesn’t necessarily work if there’s no academic term for what I’m talking about #hence wanting to do the research myself coz sometimes it feels like there’s all this stuff that’s obvious to me but no one else?? from what #I’ve seen in recent studies they are only starting to scratch the surface of stuff I’ve already known sometimes? other stuff is older & it’s #VERY gratifying when it’s stuff I’ve known but not been listened to about & it actually gets the proper recognition #though getting ppl to actually listen/take what I say seriously is its own journey & I have to be careful myself bc I’m human so my own #understanding/data is constantly updating + I have storage issues so finding the data I have in my brain is its own struggle sometimes #every version of me is interested in people & I think that’s neat even if other people don’t understand that concept #sometimes I feel like an alien/robot whose sole task is just to study & support humanity & it’s very weird tbh

[radmista]

So I finally watched Nimona (during that date) and it was not worth the hype. The animation was beautiful and I did love how expressive the characters were. But damn, Nimona the character in general was annoying.

Her backstory was really cool, how it was all integrated and revealed stuff. But just eh, was not a fan of her. I really dislike misunderstandings esp when characters just don't talk to each other or walk in on shit out of context. I get what they were trying to do and say with Nimona. But at the same time, I also see exactly how some people will think they relate to how persecuted Nimona actually is to their life when they live a pretty privileged life. And yeah thats not the movies fault, but eh.

I guess overall it wasn't bad, but just not as good as everyone said it would be. And I knew that going in, just bc I know people overhype stuff, but even with my expectations lowered it still was just meh.

#there was stuff i really liked #i just honestly got super bothered by the 'dont ask small minded questions' like what???? #sorry if im too science brain or too curious. but questions are important. and some questions asked were prying #but others were from places of genuine curiosity and seeking to understand and gain knowledge #the fact that part of the message was dont ask 'small minded' questions just really rubbed me the wrong way #you should always be free to ask questions to gain more knowledge. esp since in this case nimona is incredibly unique #of course people are gonna be curious and want to know at least something about her magic or whatever #just bc a question is smth you dont want to answer or makes you uncomfortable doesn't make it small minded #at one point the main guy just asks her if it hurts when she transforms or if she feels anything while doing it #and she gives him this look. like girl seriously? thats such an inocuous question #just esp more confusing/weird when she finds some questions to be okay to answer. #it bothered me more bc i know what people have and will extrapolate from it #but like jfc shape shifters in media can literally actually change their form completely. thats not the same as what tumblr youth do #it was decent enough. if it wasnt slamming you in the head with 'dont ask questions just accept on blind faith' message constantly #questions are good. but i guess only questioning big government is the only good questioning #just random thoughts #also watched howls moving castle and that was also tbh overhyped as well. shit was confusing

[exhaled-spirals]

« To mention the global loss of biodiversity, that is to say, the disappearance of life on our planet, as one of our problems, along with air pollution or ocean acidification, is absurd—like a doctor listing the death of his patient as one symptom among others.

The ecological catastrophe cannot be reduced to the climate crisis. We must think about the disappearance of life in a global way. About two-thirds of insects, wild mammals and trees disappeared in a few years, a few decades and a few millennia, respectively. This mass extinction is not mainly caused by rising temperatures, but by the devastation of natural habitats.

Suppose we managed to invent clean and unlimited energy. This technological feat would be feted by the vast majority of scientists, synonymous in their eyes with a drastic reduction in CO2 emissions. In my opinion, it would lead to an even worse disaster. I am deeply convinced that, given the current state of our appetites and values, this energy would be used to intensify our gigantic project of systemic destruction of planetary life. Isn't that what we've set out to do—replace forests with supermarket parking lots, turn the planet into a landfill? What if, to cap it all, energy was free?

[...C]limate change has emerged as our most important ecological battle [...] because it is one that can perpetuate the delusional idea that we are faced with an engineering problem, in need of technological solutions. At the heart of current political and economic thought lies the idea that an ideal world would be a world in which we could continue to live in the same way, with fewer negative externalities. This is insane on several levels. Firstly because it is impossible. We can't have infinite growth in a finite world. We won't. But also, and more importantly, it is not desirable. Even if it were sustainable, the reality we construct is hell. [...]

It is often said that our Western world is desacralised. In reality, our civilisation treats the technosphere with almost devout reverence. And that's worse. We perceive the totality of reality through the prism of a hegemonic science, convinced that it “says” the only truth.

The problem is that technology is based on a very strange principle, so deeply ingrained in us that it remains unexpressed: no brakes are acceptable, what can be done must be done. We don't even bother to seriously and collectively debate the advisability of such "advances". We are under a spell. And we are avoiding the essential question: is this world in the making, standardised and computed, overbuilt and predictable, stripped of stars and birds, desirable?

To confine science to the search for "solutions" so we can continue down the same path is to lack both imagination and ambition. Because the “problem” we face doesn't seem to me, at this point, to be understood. No hope is possible if we don't start by questioning our assumptions, our values, our appetites, our symbols... [...] Let's stop pretending that the numerous and diverse human societies that have populated this planet did not exist. Certainly, some of them have taken the wrong route. But ours is the first to forge ahead towards guaranteed failure. »

— Aurélien Barrau, particle physicist and philosopher, in an interview in Télérama about his book L'Hypothèse K

#quote #article #aurélien barrau #ecology #science #english #translation mine

[sunflower-lilac42]

✧ 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 || nico hischier ♔

summary: y/n suprises her kids with her brothers and her boyfriend and it makes nico realize he has to do something and do it soon

warnings: emma writing fluff

publish date: 02/18/24

notes: i thought this was longer because it was an 11 page document but i realized it's mostly just dialogue, so I'm sorry that it's kind of underwhelming. i can't believe i decided to write fluff tonight but i had to write nico because of all the content we got so... also the last part is for cam, because we have been talking about it | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

It wasn’t the first time the kids had talked about hockey, in fact, it was probably like the millionth time they’ve talked about hockey. She didn’t even know this many kids were a fan of the Devils, but low and behold, of course she could get a class full of hockey fans. On ‘Meet the Teacher’ night, she was pretty sure every kid had asked her if she was related to the Hughes brothers.

For the first day of school, she introduced herself, “Hi everyone! My name is Miss. Hughes and I’m so excited to teach you guys this year!”

“Miss. Hughes?” A hand popped up immediately after words and she looked over, “Yes?”

“Do you know Jack and Luke Hughes?”

She smiled, “I might, why?”

“Because they are so cool!” All the other kids agreed.

“Are you guys Devils fans?”

They all nodded excitedly, smiles plastered on their faces. She then looked at them seriously, “Do you guys think you can keep a secret?”

They all nodded again, “Jack and Luke are my brothers.”

“No way!” The kids all let out gasps, almost starstruck by her words.

She nodded, “Oh yeah. You guys want proof?”

She pulled up a photo of her, Jack, Quinn, and Luke, showing it to the kids, “This is us from this past summer.”

“Are they older than you?”

“Just Quinn, I’m older than Jack and Luke.”

“I have a younger brother too!”

“I have a sister!”

“My brother’s older than me!”

“That is so cool, you guys! How about at the end of the day you can ask me anything you want about hockey or my brothers, but for right now we need to learn about some classroom rules and other things. I might even have an activity for you to do.”

Ever since then, the kids loved to ask her questions about it no matter what. If they were supposed to be working on counting their numbers, they would ask her about them, if they were supposed to be learning about planets, they asked her about hockey, if they were supposed to be working on spelling, they asked her about the game last night.

She had adjusted some things to incorporate hockey and the Devils while learning. She would give them bonus spelling quizzes about hockey teams, she would use their numbers to help them add or subtract, she would use the teams as help for colors. Sometimes she even gets them to start learning a bit of geography and memorizing where each team is from.

Then she was begged to keep track of every game they lost and won. So each month she would set out a little portion of the whiteboard and write out the schedule, writing a ‘w’ or a ‘l’ next to it the following day or on Monday.

Come, January, the kids were super excited when they found out Quinn and Jack were going to the all-star game. It was all they were able to talk about. And after that, she decided she wanted to do something special for them. They had never even thought of the idea and she was glad that they didn’t. It took a lot of sweet talk from her to get all of the boys agree, and when they did she gave them hugs, practically squeezing them to death. She also was planning on a bonus surprise, knowing how much they would love it.

It was the week of the All-Star break, Quinn had flown to Jersey yesterday. She had decided to cut out the science portion of their day because the kids hated science, it was their least favorite thing ever. So she got the kids to sit in a circle on the carpet. The boys were standing outside the classroom listening to everything that she said, “Okay, you guys have been so good lately and I wanted to give you guys a surprise.”

Excited giggles and small screams echoed through the classroom and the boys outside started laughing a little. SHe shook her head and sat down on her chair, “You guys have to behave okay, because no other class is getting a surprise. You promise?”

They all nodded, “Okay, so you guys know how it’s All-Star break this week?”

“Yeah!”

“And you know how on Thursday Quinn and Jack are drafting their team?”

The kids once again said yes, excitedly nodding their heads, “Miss. Hughes?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s the surprise?”

“I’m getting there! Well they were talking about how much they didn’t get to see me and how much they missed me.” All the kids giggled and one girl popped up, “You’re being silly, Miss. Hughes.”

“You’re right, I am. They didn’t say that to me. But I asked them a little while ago if they wanted to hang out and if they wanted to ask me for a favor.”

“What’s a favor?”

“It’s where you ask someone to do something for you.”

“What did you ask them?”

“Do you guys really want to know?”

“Yes!!”

“Okay… I guess I can tell you.” She got up and walked out of the classroom, the kids looking at each other confused and started to whisper.

When she walked back in, Quinn, Jack, and Luke followed her, the kids immediately letting out screams of excitement, “Hey, what did I say about being loud?”

The kids quieted down a little but still were bouncing with excitement, all of them repeatedly saying their names over and over again. Y/n got the kids to settle down and told the three of them to sit in their seats, “Okay you guys. Do you know who these people are?”

One boy raised his hand, practically begging her to call on him, “Yes Liam?”

“They’re your brothers!”

“That’s right. Do you know their names?”

“Luke, Quinn, and Jack!”

“Do you guys have any questions for them?”

For the next ten minutes they answered questions until one of the kids softly called out her name. She got up and walked over to her, kneeling down to be at her height, “What’s up, kiddo?”

“Why is there an extra chair?”

“Oh that’s a good question. Should we let everyone else know the question, because I might have an exciting answer.”

She nodded and y/n sat down next to her, having everyone stop speaking, “Okay guys. Belle has a question.”

“Why is there an extra chair?”

“Well that’s because I have another surprise for you!”

“Another surprise?”

“Yeah, you guys wanna know?”

They all nodded, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Alright. Neeks, come on in!”

Nico walked in at the sound of his name and y.n could’ve sworn that the kids were more excited to see him then her brothers. A lot of them ran up and gave him a hug, y/n laughing a little bit at the interaction. She watched in awe as she watched her boyfriend interact with the kids, her heart warming a little bit. Belle, the girl who had asked her the question initially, turned around from where she stood and asked loudly, “Miss. Hughes, is he your boyfriend?”

All the kids looked at her expectantly and she blushed, “Yes. He is.”

All of them gasped in excitement, “No way! That’s soooo cool!”

She laughed at their comments and allowed them to continue asking questions to the four of them. When twenty more minutes had passed and it was time for them to go to lunch she had them sit back down on the carpet, “Now what do we say to Quinn, Luke, Nico, and Jack for coming?”

“Thank you!”

The four laughed and said ‘your welcome’ in unison. As another surprise, they all gave them a puck with their signatures on them. The kids gushed about it on their way to lunch and until the rest of the day. She was able to have lunch with the four of them in her classroom, eating whatever food they had bought for her.

THe joy on their faces was something she would never be able to reciprocate even if she tried, it made tears spring in her eyes, “Thank you guys for coming. It really means a lot.”

They all smiled at her, Quinn wrapping her in a hug, “It was really no problem, y/n/n.”

“Yeah, I know but it’s your guys’ all-star break and I know that you two have to be in Toronto soon. And Luke and Neeks probably want a day off.”

All four of them shook their heads, Nico coming to sit next to her, “If we wanted a day off, we would’ve said no schatzi.”

She nodded, still unable to control the few tears that formed in her eyes. She leaned her head on his shoulder and reached for his hand, “They literally never shut up about you guys.”

It was silent for a moment before a little voice startled them from the entryway, “Miss. Hughes?”

She jumped and wiped the tears from her eyes, “Hi, Victoria. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She got up and walked over to her, hearing her sniffle, “I’m not feeling good.”

“Did you go to the nurse, honey?”

She nodded back at her, “She told me that I was going home.”

“Okay, you want me to help you pack up your things?”

She nodded again, going to grab her folder from her cubby. Meanwhile, Nico was watching her with complete adortion in his eyes. Quinn noticed this and moved over to sit next to him, “You want kids with her don’t you?”

Nico looked at him with wide eyes, “What?”

“You want kids with her. It’s kind of obvious, dude.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I guess. I mean, we’re still kind of young.”

Quinn smiled, “Yeah, but when you know you know, man. She loves you, though. I know she does.”

Nico looked at him with a small grin, “You know, she didn’t even want me to come today. She said that the kids would be happy with just you guys and that she didn’t want to ruin my break.”

“That sounds like her.”

“When I told her I was coming no matter what she said I was pretty sure she was going to cry.”

“Trust me, Nico. Y/n could never go a day without you no matter how much she tries to deny it. One day when you guys had this little fight, it must’ve been when you guys just started dating, she called me crying and told me she wanted to marry you.”

“She did?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy.”

Victoria was finishing up putting the last thing in her bag and she looked at her teacher, “Mr. Hischier looking at you.”

“Oh he is?” She looked over her shoulder and saw him looking directly at her. Both of them blushed when their eyes locked and looked away, “He was wasn’t he?”

She nodded and smiled, “Miss. Hughes?”

“Yeah?”

“I think he loves you.”

“You think?”

“Yes! And I think you two are going to get married.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Okay, bye Miss. Hughes!”

“Bye, honey. Feel better!”

✧༺✎༻∞

Later that night, Nico laid in bed with y/n, arms wrapped around her tightly as they looked at each other. Y/n lightly traced his tattoo, sending shivers through him. It had been a quiet night, the two had eaten dinner and watched a movie. It was comfortable between them, no words had to be said. Both of them, however, were thinking the same thing, back to earlier. Quinn and Victoria’s words had an impact on the respective two, both of them coming to the same conclusion of wanting to marry the other. 

Nico looked up at her through his eyelashes, she was looking down at his arms as she ran her finger over the ink. He smiled and couldn’t help himself, “Do you wanna marry me?”

She paused, her finger stopping and her mouth opening just a little in shock. She looked up at him, “What?”

“Do you wanna get married?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. 100 percent.” He got up and walked over to his bag that sat at the foot of the bed, reaching in and grabbing something out, “You always told me you hated the way my bag smelled and that you wouldn't even take a step near it.”

She giggled a little, sitting up so her back was against the headboard. He walked back to the bed, sitting down by her legs, “I bought this for you a couple of months ago. It was the beginning of the season and I had just gotten back from a game. You were telling me about your day and how the kids wouldn’t stop talking about the teams win the previous night. I saw the way your face lit up when you talked about them and the game. You were so excited that they were interested in hockey. I don’t know. There was just something about the moment that made me realize that I needed to buy a ring for you. I always knew I wanted to marry you but I guess that moment just solidified it for me.”

He took a deep breath and risked a glance at her, she had tears in her eyes again, “Don’t cry, schatzi.” He held her hand before continuing, “Jack and Luke came with me the next day while you were at school. They kept pointing out random rings but none of them seemed right. The three of us were just about to give up and then I saw this one and I thought it was perfect.”

He opened the box and showed her, causing her to gasp in awe, “Oh my god, Neeks.”

“I love you, y/n and I want to be with you forever. I want to grow old with you and I want to have kids with you. I want to do it all with you.”

She nodded her head, almost screaming as she said yes. She launched herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

A couple of moments passed, both of them basking in the moment, “Victoria told me we were going to get married. When she came back in during lunch earlier.”

“Oh she did?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s funny, Quinn was telling me about how much you wanted to marry me earlier too.”

“He did?” A blush rose to her cheeks, “Yeah. He said that you called him after one of our small fights one day and you cried to him, saying that you wanted to marry me.”

“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing.” Her head fell into his chest and he laughed, moving his hand to run through her hair.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it's adorable.”

She shook her head and looked up at him, “I love you, Nico Hischier.”

“And I love you, y/n Hughes.”

✧༺✎༻∞

The next day, y/n showed up to work and immediately thought about how she was going to tell her kids. When Victoria walked in she knew what she had to do. They went through their whole routine, no one suspecting a thing. At the end of the day, she beckoned Victoria over and she skipped to her, “Yes, Miss. Hughes.”

“You know how you told me that Mr. Hishcier and I were going to get married?”

She nodded confidently, “Yep!”

“Well can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah!”

“He asked me to marry him last night.”

Victoria gasped excitedly, a smile gracing her lips, “Can I see the ring?”

Y/n nodded, grabbing the ring from her pocket, “It’s so pretty!”

“You wanna do me a big favor?”

“That’s when someone asks you to do something for them right?”

“Yep. You wanna tell everyone?”

She nodded excitedly, “Yeah!”

“Alright go on.”

“Hey guys! Mr. Hsichier and Miss. Hughes are getting married!”

All the kids ran around getting a huge rush of energy. They all came up to y/n and started asking her questions, “When are you getting married?”

“Sometime during the summer. Maybe next year?”

“But you hate the summer!”

“Yeah I know, but Mr. Hischier has to work during hockey season, remember? He plays from October to April every year. So I have to make a sacrifice.”

“What’s a sacrifice?”

“When you give up something for something else.”

“I’m so happy for you, Miss. Hughes.”

“Don’t you mean, Mrs. Hischier?!”

Y/n laughed and made them pack up to go home. When she got back to her and Nico’s apartment, she smiled when she saw him making a pre-dinner snack. She wrapped her arms around his torso from behind, “Hi Neeks.”

“Hi schatzi, how was your day?”

“Good. Told the kids what you asked me last night.” He turned around in her arms and smiled down at her, “Yeah?”

She rested her head on his chest, “Mhm. They were really excited.”

He wrapped his arms around her, “I’m not surprised.”

“I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“Me neither. But I’m so excited.”

“Me too. I love you.”

“I love you.”

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

@jasminecaskry85 | @lilyevanswhore | @shoesjr13 | @Exonct07 | @dancerbailey3 | @if-my-heart-bleeds | @prettyinsatiable | @hearts-4-luke | @sarawinson78 | @pucks-goals-penalties | @elegieseulogise | @crazycat-ladys-blog | @privatemythss | @5secondsofonedirection222 | @piavettel33 | @bohemianrapshawty | @mikayladavis | @klkennedy | @hockeyboysarehot | @whoopwhoop123 | @dasiysthings | @rleigh-47 | @ivy-34 | @itsnotgray | @daisysnhl | @love4ldr | @love4lando | @dyslecticdutchman | @thescooby-gang | @biscuit-muffin05 | @toasttt11 | @fratboyharrysgf0201 | @http-aatp | @biggiesmallspots | @kei943 | @Studio_reader | @ru-kru | @zebraszegras | @sleepybesson | @lausdigitaldiary | @eleutherafairy | @hockeygirl101 | @fearfam69691 | @skoolnites | @bunting58 | @francesfarhadi | @fallinallincurls | @valluvsu | @cixrosie | @absolutelyhugh3s | @livelovefanfics | @love-like-woaah

#sunny lune writes #nico hischier #nh13 #nico hischier x reader #hockey #nhl #nj devils

[seattlesellie]

hi angel i saw u say you wanted more fluffy ellie requests and i thought about maybe something along the lines of the cute pics she has of you two in her phone idk it’s just something i thought of u don’t have to write it if u don’t want to i just love ur blog and everything u write 💗💗💗💗🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

not about love ♡

pre-dating slightly loser college!ellie 🦕 incoming !! basically u go through ellies phone and find… something. part 1 of… maybe?

warnings: slightly mean ellie for a second, sexual tension, mentions of weed and alcohol.

part 2

Tic-Toc, the gentle sounds of the ancient clock in Ellie’s room filled the thick air. a gift from Joel. It was a warm, lazy afternoon. You almost fell asleep, almost. Her bed smelled like her, so did the ruffled, Nirvana t-shirt you were laying on. Everything in this room practically screamed Ellie. The scent, the sketches on the wall — of Dina, and Jesse, and you. Why did she have more sketches of you than anyone else? A dinosaur lego, a miniature solar system, obscure band posters, Oh! here’s the pin you gifted her once!, two pairs of mismatched socks, a random rock (“It’s from like, the moon” she said. It was from the local science museum.)

“El” you whined, receiving a gentle hum in response.

“I’m bored” you exclaimed with a heavy sigh. It's not as if she owed you any attention, she told you she had to study. For some reason, some odd reason nor you or her could put your finger on, you had to be there with her. “Well” you excused. “It’s not like I have anything better to do, right?” A lie. What about your project due Monday? Nevermind.

“Catch this” she exclaimed, tossing a serene light blue stress ball directly at your face.

“Ow!” you whined, yet again. If only you knew what those whines did to her.

“Sorry bro, gotta finish this fucking question. She said, flexing her sore hand. “Fuck this fucking Prof, seriously” She mumbled, clearly annoyed, clearly frustrated. Ellie had this thing, well, if you could even call something that she only had specifically with you a “Thing” — where she had to call you by those stupid names. “Dude” “Bro” “Jeez man!” just to see you squirm. Youd flinch ever so slightly, a fleeting reaction that betrayed a hint of offense flickering in your eyes. Every time you couldn’t help but pout, couldn’t help but look a little bit hurt, it did something to her. It wasn’t because she liked hurting you, God knows she didn’t. It would give her a glimmer of hope, of light. Shed journal about it, too;

“I called her Bro again. She looked really sad. Why does she get sad? I’m so fucking stupid. It’s probably because no one else calls her fucking bro, I’m literally delusional. Also had expired fucking Pizza. Worst day ever. Shit. Not that bad because she smiled at batted her eyelashes. God Ellie you need therapy.” YOURE A DUMBASS!!!!”

Half an hour had elapsed, brimming with Ellie muttering to herself under her breath. lighting a blunt, burning the blunt, passing it to you, begging you to give it back after 3 seconds.

You were pretty sure you had gone through every single app on your phone five times already. Stalking rando’s on Instagram, watching ASMR tiktoks, talking shit with Dina in the groupchat. How much more of this boredom could you take? My god, you were humming a stupid melody to yourself.

“Griiiind boy you know I grind when I pull-“

“Shh”

Did Ellie just shush you?!

“Excuse me?” You said.

“I’m trying to concentrate. Also what the fuck is a Fartulum?” Ellie retorted, withdrawing slightly and punctuating her frustration with stomps on the floor. God, she was too fucking cute.

“Can I play on your phone?” You questioned innocently. One more opening and closing the same App and you’d have lost your damn mind. You could practically see the Candy Crush candies popping inside of your brain every time you closed your eyes.

“No” she answered bluntly.

“Why? you scared I’ll find your nudes? Not gonna look- Swear on my li-“

You could hear her eye rolling, somehow.

“I dont have fucking nudes” she affirmed with a touch of exasperation.

“Someone else’s?” you said quietly. Your tone almost exposed you. Almost.

“Psh… no” Ellie said in return, just as quiet. Her tone almost exposed her, too.

Wish I had yours. Shut it, Ellie.

“Then let me go on your phone” You whined, got off the bed and almost slipped on one of her belts that laid on the floor. So messy, so, so Ellie.

She cast a sidelong glance at you, her eyes darting from the corner of her vision. Her grip on the pen was incredibly tight. It happened every time you got near, got too close to her. Whether it was clutching the strings of her hoodie, her knuckles turning white with tension, or her toes curling in a clenched stance. Shed never ever admit it to herself, cool, calm & collected, but fuck did you make her nervous.

You settled yourself on the chair beside her, causing her to divert every ounce of her attention back to her assignment, shifting it solely onto you. You. You. You.

She gazed directly into your eyes, and a peculiar warmth flooded your face. Its funny how even after being friends for all this time, making eye contact with her managed to stir something within you. She asked you about it once, mid fight. “You never even look at me when we talk!” she huffed. “Yes I do!” no you dont. “No you don’t!” and when your lips quivered, turning you in, she left it at that.

Ellie scratched the back of her neck, her arms flexing subtly with the motion. You gave her that look, the look that made her cheeks go bright pink, her hands clam up. She bit her lip. “Fine”. You won, flashing her a toothy smile she couldn’t help but grin at.

And there you were, with Ellie’s iPhone 5C (Yeah, she never got that buying a new iPhone every 2 years phenomenon) laying on Ellie’s bed, in Ellie’s room.

“Ew - Ellie what the fuck? why is your screen greasy?!” You squirmed, fingertips grazing over her slightly sticky screen. Is that fucking chicken nuggets residue?

“Shut up, dude. You asked me for my phone so deal with the consequences”

Dude.

You rolled your eyes, proceeded to wipe the screen of her phone with the corner of her cozy flannel bedsheet. Her phone was really warm. One more month and it would probably set on fire.

“Password?” You questioned, and shifted to lay on your stomach, your cheek caressing the pillow. It had a little auburn colored hair laying on top of it.

Ellie huffed and waited a second before she responded, contemplating again. It’s harmless, fuck it.

“2222”

“Okay, seriously - you could get hacked with that dumbass password”

“Pffft” Ellie huffed. “I’d fucking beat them up if they tried robbing me” she said, ever the brave.

“I’m not… talking about robbers, Ellie. Like, hackers?”

“Same thing”

“You cant beat up hackers they’re- Nevermind” you sighed.

2222.

If the room was classic Ellie, god, so was her phone. Default Apple background, because she truly couldn’t be bothered. iMessage, Instagram with four pictures on her feed; One of her arm slightly flexing her tat (who the fuck was the bitch who commented “damn” under there?), one of a stray cat wearing her grey beanie, a meme that says “Fuck sex. Let’s do something romantic like play Fireboy and Watergirl on CoolMathGames.Com” (God, she thought she was so funny for that one. 6 Likes, one from you, one from Jesse, the fake Instagram account you and Dina created for Joel, her ex Cat, and one from Dina and a spam bot). Next to the Instagram laid the NASA app (of course), Call Of Duty for iPhone (Made her sleep for only fifteen minutes one night), calculator, 9GAG (People still use that?!), and… her gallery.

You pursed your lips, contemplating the situation. Should you?after all, Ellie said; No nudes. So what could possibly be on there?

Of course.

You couldn't contain a soft giggle that escaped your lips, earning an inquisitive whine from Ellie. "What's so funny?" she grumbled, unable to resist her curiosity.

“Said you were studying, so study” You said, while scrolling through her gallery.

As you readjusted your position on the bed, you unintentionally swiped to the left, revealing her albums. Just harmless browsing, right?

“Screenshots”

“Funny memes”

“Pics to send Jesse when he’s being stupid”

“Dhhdjsjsou”

“Stink ❤️”

A picture of you, laying on the grass, a bright, toothy smile spread across your face. It was from your Instagram, the one you deleted because you thought you looked dumb. The one Ellie commented a for once unsarcastic “Woah” on.

The album was locked.

You felt your throat go dry, heartbeat speeding up. Your leg started shaking, and God, you hoped she would come and snatch the phone off of your hand.

But she didn’t. She just shifted in her sit, cleared her throat and resumed her studies.

You shouldn’t have. But you did.

2222

Unlocked. Success!

You felt like screaming at the top of your lungs. Was it even hotter in here now? Extra humid today? you bit your lip, it almost hurt.

A picture of you and Dina. A selfie you sent to the groupchat two weeks ago. Ellie doodled a green heart on it. You were sweating. A picture of you on Christmas last year. That same day you had your stupid fight on. You were wearing a Santa hat, mug of hot Coco and tiny white marshmallows in your hand.

Your stomach felt as if it were infested by a swarm of Ellie looking butterfly’s.

A picture of you sound asleep, in Ellie’s bed. She was mid-moving a hair strand away from your face. It was blurry. You recognized that top.

You were wasted that day. Blabbering uncontrollably about how you had to crash on her bed, because you were scared your new roommate would think you’re stupid, and dumb, and an idiot, for getting drunk at a frat party.

You couldn’t understand why Ellie didn’t want to help you. You almost kicked her when she said she couldn’t, that you’d be better off in your bed. “I snore. And I kick in my sleep - Seriously” You almost cried. You called her a bad friend, a fake one, because — isn’t that what friends are for? Shouldn’t they have your back when you’re a babbling mess? Hold your hair for you, put you to sleep, take care of you?

Ellie couldn’t sleep that night.

When you laid there, right on her bed, her face went so red and hot you could fry something on it. She almost hit herself in the face when her chest grazed your back. When your leg caressed her’s, and ended up on top of her thigh, she almost screamed. When you shifted to face her, an angelic, sound asleep expression on your face, she swore she almost died. The string of your top came off, revealing more of your shoulder, and the strap of your bra, Ellie turned around so fast she almost woke you up.

She slept for 20 minutes.

When she woke up, she had to make herself remember it. Remember you, laying with her.

So she took a picture. An innocent one.

You almost jumped when the pen fell slipped from her hand and she turned around to face you.

“What are you doing?”

Whats in her notes app?

♡

part two

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #wlw #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #lesbian

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 1 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake ends up sitting in on a college physics lecture purely by accident. He's rewarded with a cute smile and a cheap beer when he defends the professor. But since when is he like Bradshaw, getting turned on by math and college classrooms?

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! It was also written for a request and Rocktober! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"Hey, Bradshaw."

Bradley spun to face Jake in the parking lot, throwing a questioning glance his way. "Hangman?"

"I need a favor." 

Jake wanted to laugh at the annoyed look on the other aviator's face, but he really did need Rooster to help him out. 

"What favor?" Bradley asked, making a production of checking his watch for the time. It was 5:32. Jake could have told him that without checking his own watch. But once again, being at Bradshaw's mercy had him biting his tongue.

"I need a ride home," Jake informed him, nodding to where that vintage Bronco was parked. "My truck is in the shop."

"Why are you just telling me about this now?"

Jake sighed. "Because I live to annoy you. Can you drop me off at my place or not? It's like a mile from your house."

"I'm not heading straight home," Bradley informed him. "My wife is giving a back to school mini lecture at the college."

"Doesn't she teach calculus?" Jake asked, starting to sweat through his khaki uniform while the two men stood in the hot blacktop. "Why are you going to a college calculus lecture?"

Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, clearly annoyed that he was being held up. "Because my wife is hot, and I want to get laid tonight."

"That's fair," he replied. Bradshaw somehow ended up marrying a dime. And Jake supposed he'd willingly attend some stuffy math lecture as well, if the woman giving it was hot enough.

"Listen, I'm leaving," Bradley said, already backing away. "If you want a ride from me, you'll have to swing by San Diego State for an hour or two first. I can drop you off after the lecture."

Jake looked around, deciding this was going to be his best option. "Yeah, alright. Thanks, Bradshaw."

"Just don't embarrass me," Bradley replied, climbing in the driver's side door. Jake climbed in the Bronco as well and rolled his eyes. Really, in what world would he be the embarrassing one here? 

"I'm cool," Jake insisted as they pulled out of the parking spot. 

"And please, don't call my wife Dr. Tits."

"Okay, that was one time," Jake said, trying to defend himself. "At the holiday party. And I was very drunk."

"Yeah, well she thinks you're annoying."

"Hmm," Jake hummed, looking out the window. "I'll behave."

They rode the rest of the way in a silence that thankfully wasn't as awkward as it could have been. And when they went walking through the campus side by side, Jake chuckled at all of the college aged girls turning to get a look at them.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted. "It happens every time."

"Hey, some of these girls are cute."

"You're thirty."

"I don't see a problem." 

Jake held open the door to the mathematics and science building for Bradley to walk inside, and they were met with clusters of students and professors talking in the long corridor. He followed Bradley into one of the lecture halls on the first floor, and a pang of jealousy shot through him when Bradshaw's wife made a beeline their way with a smile on her face.

"Hey, Sugar," Bradley crooned, and she kissed him so sweetly, Jake had to look away. 

"Beer Boy! I can't believe you came."

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Oh, hi Jake," she said, waving to him from where she was tucked under her husband's chin.

"Hi," he replied, feeling kind of bad about calling her Dr. Tits a few weeks ago. "Rooster kindly offered to drive me home after your lecture, since my truck is currently in for repairs."

"You're sweet," she told Bradley before leaning up to kiss him again. But now he had one hand sliding down along her ass, and Jake waved as he walked away.

"Text me when you're done," he muttered, despising the feeling of being the third wheel. It happened more and more as his friends and coworkers started to pair off in serious relationships. He didn't mind being single; it gave him more opportunity to save money for a Cessna, and he didn't have to stop picking up girls from the bar. But he didn't like it when he was expected to stand there and watch everyone else sucking face and saying I love you. "Disgusting."

When he wandered back out into the main hallway, he noticed that it was 6:00 and everyone seemed to be heading into the different lecture halls. So he chose a door at random and ducked inside behind a kid holding a skateboard. If he'd had more time to consider his options, he might have looked for something different to listen to for an hour, but it just so happened he walked in as a physics lecture was starting up. 

There was a woman with her back to the room writing her name on the white board. Dr. Jessica Reed. When she turned around, adjusted her glasses and smiled, Jake tripped over a chair leg and sat down a little hard in one of the empty seats. She was beautiful. And now she was looking right at him since he'd made the chair screech a few inches across the floor. 

"Sorry," he whispered, wincing in apology. But she just shrugged a little bit and got started. 

"Welcome back for the spring semester. I'm Dr. Reed, and this is my second year teaching at San Diego State after earning my PhD in physics from Texas A&M." She paused and gestured to five men sitting in the front row. "Tonight some of my colleagues and I will be talking about propulsion and thrust in relation to aviation and aeronautics."

Now Jake was sitting on the edge of his seat. She went to college in Texas? She knew about aviation? She looked hot in her glasses, skirt and high heels? He was fascinated. She gave a short lecture, pausing to write some formulas on the board in her tidy handwriting, and he was pleased to note that he remembered some of this from his classes at the Naval Academy. He actually remembered a lot of this.

Now she was writing a problem on the board while she said, "Thrust provides the forward motion needed to sustain lift and counteract drag. It is also used to accelerate, gain altitude, and sometimes to maneuver. Propulsion is the act of moving or pushing an object forward. So if an aviator needs to prevent altitude loss because of drag, they would need to know how this formula works."

Jake sat with a smug smile on his face. He did this every day at work. And he already solved her handwritten problem in his head, because he took and aced four semesters of physics himself.

"Can anyone solve for the required thrust?" she asked, adjusting her glasses a little nervously when nobody immediately raised their hand. 

Jake glanced from side to side. The college kids either looked lost or too shy to answer, so he slipped his hand into the air. 

"Yes?" she asked, calling on him. "Go ahead."

"2900 meters per second," he answered smoothly, and her face lit up. 

"Perfect," she replied, turning back to the board to finish solving for everyone to see. She gave a few closing notes and some information about her class schedule, and when she was finished, she grabbed her notebook from the podium. Jake and a few others in attendance clapped for her as she made her way to the empty seat right in front of him. She smiled at him softly before she sat down. 

And then Jake had to endure a very loud, very cranky old man named Dr. Benson Leeland give a similar lecture. But his voice was not conducive to learning, and his handwriting was atrocious. He complained in a passive aggressive tone that Dr. Reed hadn't erased the board for him, and Jake watched her squirm a little awkwardly in the seat in front of him. That was pretty rude of Dr. Leeland. 

But now Jake was noticing the way the other physics professors were hanging on every word that this guy was saying. A few even asked for more information. But as Jake studied the sloppy equation he was scribbling on the board, he realized the answer was wrong. 

"He doesn't even have the right information," Jake mumbled, squinting at the board. 

"No," Jessica Reed whispered, "he really doesn't."

"Is he new here or something?" Jake muttered.

She laughed softly and looked at him over her shoulder. She looked so cute, and her eyes were sparkling with wit and intelligence. "He's had tenure since 1995."

"Jesus," Jake groaned, looking back to the board just in time to see Dr. Leeland cap the dry erase marker. 

"Any questions about the problem?" he barked, and once again everyone else in the room looked half asleep. Well, other than the panel of professors in the front who were hanging on his every word.

But Jake raised his hand and said, "Yes. Several."

"Fine," Dr. Leeland growled. "What would you like to know?"

Jake scoffed and stood up as he gestured to the white board. "I'd like to know why your answer is wrong."

The room went silent as Dr. Leeland turned and looked at the board. A few seconds later, he said, "It looks correct to me," but he sounded far less confident now.

"Well it's not. It's off by a thousand. And you need thrust not propulsion to rapidly gain altitude during takeoff," Jake said, and he noticed that Jessica appeared to be holding in her laughter in front of him. "So not only is your math wrong, your equation just doesn't even make any sense."

"I'm sorry, but are you a student here? Did you graduate from this program?" Leeland asked Jake.

"No," he replied with his hands on his hips. "I'm an aviator. And I attended the Naval Academy where the professors taught physics correctly like Dr. Reed."

He could have heard a pin drop, and Jessica was looking back at him from her seat with her lips parted and her eyes wide. Then a smile crept onto her face, and Jake decided that it was so stunning, he'd like to keep it there. 

Just as Dr. Leeland started to shuffle around the front of the lecture hall, and another equally geriatric professor took his place at the podium, Jessica stood, clutching her red notebook to her chest. She still looked kind of surprised by him, but pleased nonetheless. And when she was standing this close to him, Jake was having a hard time remembering why he was annoyed a few seconds ago. 

When she nodded to the doors at the back of the room and headed toward them, Jake tripped along after her. She slipped silently out into the hallway and he followed her lead. It was cool and quiet out here, and she laughed softly as soon as the door closed softly behind him. 

"Sorry, but there's no way I could listen to another lecture after Leeland put his foot in his mouth like that," she told him softly with a smile. "And it seemed like you were probably done, too?"

"That's right. I'm pretty sure I already got to hear the best physics professor give her lecture," Jake said as smoothly as he could. "No sense in staying for whatever the hell that was." He jerked his chin toward the door, and she looked delighted. "He didn't even know what he was talking about."

"Yeah," she agreed, adjusting her glasses and nodding vigorously. "He's been tenured. Since 1995. Welcome to my world."

Jake chuckled, and when he held out his hand, she juggled her notebook and shook it. "I'm Jake Seresin." Her hand was small and sure, and he had to fight the urge to pull her closer.

"Jessica Reed," she replied, pulling her hand from his all too soon. 

"I really liked your mini lecture, Dr. Reed," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

She laughed and looked at the floor for a beat. "You can call me Jessica." She glanced toward the elevators like maybe she was going to leave, but then she turned back to him and asked, "You feel like grabbing a drink? There's a hellaciously shitty dive bar across the street."

He grinned. "Do they have cheap beer?"

"Oh, yeah. And they give you peanuts and let you throw the shells wherever you want to with reckless abandon," she said before biting her lip. Was she nervous to ask him? She shouldn't be. Jake would have followed her out into oncoming traffic if she said that's what she wanted to do.

"Let's go," he replied, earning himself another smile. 

"It's my treat," she said, pushing open the doors and heading out onto the sidewalk with him. "Honestly, a three dollar beer and some stale peanuts is the least you deserve for standing up for me in there."

As they walked side by side toward the corner and the crosswalk, he asked, "So you're the only competent one in your department, Jessica?" Oh, he really liked saying her name. He wondered if she would respond with one of those pretty smiles if he whispered her name in her ear.

"Yes," she replied with conviction as she crossed the street toward the bar called Chippy's. "And I'm also the youngest one, the only female, and the only one without tenure." She pushed open the door, and Jake immediately noticed the crowd of college students and the floor that was simultaneously sticky and slippery from peanut shells.

"Hey, Reedy!" called the bartender, and she waved to him before grabbing the last empty high top with two stools. 

Jake smirked. "Are you a regular at Chippy's?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes with a grin as she took a seat. 

"If you were in my shoes, you'd need a shitty beer at the end of the day more often than not, too."

And then to Jake's surprise, the older bartender stopped by the table with two beers and a bowl of peanuts. He set them down next to Jessica's red notebook. "Reedy," he said with a wink before looking at Jake like he was already on thin ice. 

When he headed back to the bar, Jake sat on the stool opposite hers and watched as she took a sip of her beer. Then she licked her lips, and Jake leaned a little closer.

"Okay, so earlier you said you're an aviator?" she asked, looking at his uniform shirt. "You're a naval Lieutenant? Top Gun?"

"That's right," he confirmed, and that smile was back. "Your lecture took me right back to my Physics of Propulsion and Combustion class from about ten years ago."

She cracked open a peanut, and Jake watched her toss the shell to the floor without a care in the world, and he laughed. 

"What were you doing in my lecture anyway?" she asked before popping the peanut into her mouth.

Jake suddenly remembered Bradshaw and his wife and his ride home. He'd gotten completely lost in Jessica and managed to forget all about everything else. "I actually came with a friend of mine, but he went to a different lecture. I just picked a door at random, and let me tell you, I'm happy I ended up in your lecture hall."

She pressed her lips together, and he crushed a peanut of his own. "Well, I hope you learned something useful today, Jake."

"I did," he replied, throwing the shell over his shoulder, and Jessica laughed. "I learned that if I'm not nice to the best physics professor at San Diego State, the bartender at Chippy's will kick my ass."

The sound of her laughter as she tipped her head back had Jake entranced. Her neck and collarbones looked soft, like they were made for his lips and fingers to explore. And her clothes were kind of sexy in an academic way. Since when was he like Bradshaw, getting turned on by math and college classrooms? 

"Yeah, you better watch your back," she said, cracking into another peanut. "What kind of jet do you fly?"

He had to clear his throat. "F/A-18. Super Hornet."

She moaned softly, and Jake almost dropped his pint glass. "One of my favorites for aerodynamics and combustion studies. I actually just read the most interesting article in the Journal of Propulsion Science about the Super Hornet. It was fascinating, because they touched on-" She froze with a peanut shell in her hand and looked embarrassed. "Sorry."

He wanted her to finish her sentence. He needed her to. She knew about the fucking physics of his aircraft! She was hot as hell! "Keep going," he urged. "Why was it fascinating?"

Jessica licked her lips again and said, "It was fascinating because they touched on the way temperature affects draft and drag."

After that, Jake was completely hooked. He listened to her with rapt attention as she told him a bit more about the article before saying, "I kept the journal. If you ever wanted to borrow it."

"Yes," he replied immediately, leaning even closer to her. "I'd love to borrow it."

"Great," she whispered, adjusting her glasses and finishing her beer. But when she set her glass down, she gasped. "I left my wallet in my office. I was going to treat you to the beer for being so sweet and essentially telling Leeland to go fuck himself earlier."

Jake was the one with his head tipped back in laughter this time. When he met her eyes again, he said, "Oh, you're cute, Jessica. But I was never going to let you pay for the three dollar beers." She giggled and covered her lips with her fingertips, and Jake asked, "You want another pint?"

But then his phone rang, and he muttered, "Sorry," as he dug it out of his pocket. 

Bradshaw

He ignored the call. All of the lectures must be over by now. He was probably ready to leave. But Jake wanted to spend the rest of the night sitting in Chippy's with Dr. Jessica Reed, throwing peanut shells on the floor with reckless abandon.

"You have to go?" she asked softly, and Jake thought she looked a little sad at the prospect. 

"Yeah," he started before his brain helpfully informed him that he could easily stay longer and just get a cab or an Uber to take him home later. 

But when he was about to tell Jessica that he actually wanted to hang out with her longer, she said, "Okay. No worries. I... should get back to my office anyway. Thanks for the beer, Jake." 

And then she stood, and he felt instant regret as he left twenty bucks on the table and followed her outside. But his phone was ringing in his hand as she turned toward the math and science building and pushed the button for the crosswalk. 

Jake answered Bradley's call with a clipped, "Yeah?"

"Meet us at the Bronco." And then the call went silent. 

He watched as Jessica pushed the button for the crosswalk two more times. "Jessica," he started, but she cut him off.

"Thanks again, Jake. Have a great night," she said, running across the street in her high heels. So he ran after her. 

"What happened?" he called after her. "Jessica!" But she was already near the doors that would take her inside to her office. She glanced back at him one last time before she walked inside, and he didn't look away until she was completely out of his sight. 

"Fuck," he shouted, turning back toward the street where the Bronco was parked. Everything had been going well. Fucking great. Jessica was smart and attractive. Funny, too. And the chemistry was definitely there. He was almost certain he was about to seal the deal with her phone number. 

As he rounded the corner, he saw Bradshaw leaning against the Bronco. "There you are," he said, opening the driver's door and sliding the seat forward for Jake to climb in the back. 

"Which lecture did you end up attending?" his wife asked as Bradley started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

"Physics," he muttered, still trying to figure out how he managed to fuck up the night. Then he looked at her again. "Hey, do you know anything about Jessica Reed?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. She's nice. Physics professor. Kind of keeps to herself, probably because the rest of her department is comprised of a bunch of old douchebags. She's only been at the school one year longer than me. Why do you ask? Ohhhh," she said knowingly and turned to look at him. "She's a genius, and she's gorgeous."

"Sounds like she's a little bit out of your league, man," Rooster said with a laugh. 

Jake raked his fingers through his hair. "More like a lot," he said, fully agreeing with Bradshaw for once.

"Don't act like I'm not out of your league, Beer Boy," his wife said. And then Jake had to endure their little cuddle fest for the rest of the drive while he mentally kicked himself for having no clue how to treat a woman who he wanted to get to know, not just get in his bed. 

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

Give it up, Jake. You're just as bad as Beer Boy. Oh, Jessica, where did you go? I'm kind of torn between leaving this as a one-shot and writing a second part. Big thanks for @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

@blahehblah

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#jake seresin x oc #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x oc #jake hangman seresin #hangman fic #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin #hangman fanfiction #top gun hangman #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #adult education #top gun rocktober #jake hangman fic

[howtofightwrite]

Was reading through your torture tag and noticed a lot of stuff that was being said seemed to contradict things that were said on the scripttorture blog... do you have any suggestions on how to clear things up? Im not sure which things to trust

And you're asking us, because they've posted once in the last two years?

I'll admit, I have a fairly low opinion of them, and that's not directly their fault. For years, one of their fans, would regularly send some pretty incendiary asks our way. In fact, some of the less hostile ones were answered, and may be the posts you were looking at. Understandably, the ones simply accusing us of being torture apologists, demanding we redirect all our asks to their blog, or insisted that we should sit down and shut up, did not make the cut. With that in mind, please understand, I'm not going to go digging through their blog to refresh my memory, so some of this might be slightly skewed by the aforementioned deranged fan.

Look for the blog that does not constantly contradict or misrepresent their authoritative sources. Which is to say, if you actually pay attention to Shane O'Mara's work, it's basically what we've been saying all along.

If you're unfamiliar, O'Mara is a Neurologist who was (last I time I checked) working at Trinity College Dublin. He published a, frankly fascinating piece, called, Why Torture Doesn't Work, in which, he set about trying to answer why torture is an ineffective tool for intelligence gathering. O'Mara also had the misfortune of being the only expert who said anything close to the perspective Scripttorture wanted on torture.

An open secret about torture is that it is completely worthless for getting accurate information. This has been widely understood for centuries, if not millennia. O'Mara's question was, “why?”

It turns out, that the neurochemical trauma associated with torture, seriously interferes with your ability to accurately access information. For example: If you're being tortured, you can't tell your torturer where you planted the ticking bomb, because your brain literally can't access those memories.

Torture is evil. Yeah. No shit.

And, this is where ScriptTorture stops. “Torture is bad,” and Jack Bauer is an incredibly unrealistic fantasy, end of story.

Except, this is not the end of this.

Now, generally speaking, I don't blame anyone who wants to get off the ride here. Torture is an unpleasant subject, and wanting to stop at, “oh, it's evil,” is entirely reasonable... unless you want to write on the subject, or if you do political analysis and need to understand why people break out the torture implements.

More than that, this is where my academic background in political science actually comes into play. I'm not saying this as an Eagle Scout who had a couple overly enthusiastic hand to hand instructors when I was a kid. This is (part of) what I studied in college, and I have kept an eye on it since then.

If torture didn't work, you wouldn't see state-sponsored torture pop up repeatedly throughout history. It would not be one of the favorite tools of dictators and despots. However, because it does, and it is, simply saying, “it doesn't work,” isn't instructive or meaningful because it's clearly untrue. Someone is finding value in this, so it becomes important to understand what they are doing, and why they are doing it.

When you torture someone, the information they provide is basically madlibs of whatever leaked through their brain. They want the pain and stress to stop, and they'll say anything they can to make that happen. That often takes the form of what they think their torturer wants to hear. O'Mara's research does explain why they don't simply cough up the truth.

So, why do it?

Torture is a very labor intensive process. You (as an individual) can't, realistically, torture multiple victims at a time, and it is a very drawn out process. Some elements can be automated, your torturer doesn't need to be present at every moment, but they're going to spend hours, if not days, working on one victim. Worse, this is actually a technical profession. It's not like you can just pull in anyone off the street and get the results you want. (Though, technically, this doesn't seem to be as true, however, amateurs do have a shocking capacity to screw up torture. So, the point remains valid.)

The value of torture has almost nothing to do with the victim. It's about the message it sends to everyone else.

Torture is about mass coercion of the population. When you are the state (meaning, the government), and you torture someone, you are telling your citizens that you are willing to do the same to them, if they oppose you.

State-sponsored torture is specifically a tool to suppress political engagement. It is, quite literally, state-sponsored, domestic terrorism.

This even holds true in cases where the state employs torture to extract confessions from criminal suspects. The message sent into the general population is that dissent of any kind will not be tolerated, and that the state has the willingness and power to turn these tools on you if you draw their ire.

I get that this is outside of ScriptTorture's area of expertise, and in fairness, I probably would not have studied this with any intensity, if I hadn't taken multiple classes on revolutionary theory.

Torture from private organizations (which is to say, organized crime, and religious institutions, though cults and some other groups might fit this description as well), follows roughly similar patterns. These tend to do the same things, discouraging dissent, and establishing the organization as having power over the population (or community.) (The technical term would be to “establish capacity.” Which is to say, the organization's capacity to enforce its will. The same term applies to states, though in those cases, the state's capacity is often overestimated by its population. It's only when it starts to falter, for example through military defeats or serious civil unrest, that they really need the capacity boosting part of this equation.)

Zealotry or stupidity can create situations where you have a torturer (or, more likely, someone in a position of power ordering the torture) who believes that it is effectively compelling the truth from the victim. This (or amateurs) can easily lead into a distinct problem, which is that all of this has diminishing returns. Torture one person, and you send a loud, clear message. Torture ten, and all you've added to it is that you're willing to keep going. However, as you start stacking up the victims, you do start sending a new message to your enemies, that being, you're going to get to them sooner or later so it's in their best interest to respond now, mobilize and retaliate proactively, before you get to them. This means that a state which leans heavily on torture can easily instigate the civil unrest that exposes their limited capacity leading to a political death spiral. Alternately, if the state does have the capacity to put down the resulting unrest, it further reinforces their position (which does happen with depressing frequency in the real world.)

You're also going to create new enemies in the friends, family, and loved ones, of the people you tortured. This means that any organization that relies on extensive use of torture will, eventually, start tying a noose around its own neck. (Granted, there are a lot of social dynamics that I'm skimming over here, so it's not exactly as simple as “if the state tortures lots of people, it will result in increasing unrest.”)

If you want a partial citation for the above, you can (ironically) find it in a podcast interview with Shane O'Mara, when he explained why torture has been employed repeatedly through history. (Specifically I think it was episode 15 of Your Welcome, by Michael Malice. Though, I'm not 100% sure off hand.) Though that doesn't cover some of the more in depth elements I just discussed. Some of this is coming from a textbook on revolutionary theory I can't locate (it disappeared in a move a few years back.) Though that was more interested in the general structure of a state destabilizing into internecine conflict. Ironically, my preferred citation on torture, Fear up Harsh by Tony Lagouranis is mostly uninformative in this case, because his experiences were on the ground, rather than from a structural understanding of what his job was really doing. However, he does illustrate my comment about amateurs making even more of a mess, both through personal experiences with a few, and also through the eventual trajectory of the invasion and occupation of Iraq.

But of course, torture is evil... again, no shit. Was that really a question? And, I'm apparently a torture apologist for having a structural understanding of why evil people do evil things. Cool. Evil people don't do evil things because they're evil, they do them because they gain some tangible benefit from those acts, and they do not care about the consequences to anyone else. If you ask someone, “why do people do this?” and their answer is, “it's simple; they're evil,” that person is lying. They may be lying to themselves, but they are lying to you.

Why do people use torture? It's a lot more complicated, and unpleasant, than you'd expect at a simple overview.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #starke answers #torture

[probablyasocialecologist]

The Cass Report is fatally flawed in its methodology, and as a result, its recommendations are harmful. Speaking on behalf of TransActual, Keyne Walker said: “It undermines the legal competence of both children and adults to access medical treatment and dismisses almost all existing clinical evidence on trans people’s healthcare by applying impossible evidence standards which, if applied to other medicines would invalidate more than three quarters of the existing treatments used in paediatric care which, like puberty blockers, are currently being prescribed off-label.” The report’s primary conclusions rest on excluding 98% of the relevant evidence on the safety and efficacy of puberty blockers and hormones for lack of blinding and controls. What this means is that they require studies in which some patients are given the treatment, and others are unknowingly given placebos. This is not only a clear breach of medical ethics and monstrous suggestion, but also impossible due to the obviousness of the impacts of puberty blockers and hormones.  The report also strays far beyond its scope and competence in recommending a review of adult services and in suggesting that young people ought to stay under the care of children and young people’s services until the age of 25. The latter is based on highly questionable understandings of brain development which have been repeatedly debunked as an oversimplification of the constant changes in human neurology over the course of our lives.  This recommendation, especially in a context of an already broken system of care for both adults and children, has the potential to have a significant negative impact on the lives and wellbeing of trans people in the UK.  Underpinning this report is the idea that being trans is an undesirable outcome rather than a natural facet of human diversity. This is clear not only from the recommendations but also from the exclusion of trans researchers from the design of the review process and the links individual members of the research team have to anti-trans groups, which the Cass team were warned about. Download the full briefing

#lgbt #transgender #uk politics #cass review

[slocumjoe]

I've said before that the synth thing would work better with a McCarthyism allegory, but for Danse specifically, its so similar to autism that it has to be intentional??

Like. The thing that really solidified that Danse in particular is just straight up about autism is Piper's line in Blind Betrayal. Paraphrased, it goes something like, "I mean...yeah, of course he's a synth. It was kind of obvious, wasn't it? I mean, have you heard him talk?"

The autism accent is a concept that seems to be popping up more recently, but its a real thing, and in my own experience, everyone in my life has been able to clock that there was something different about me from my speech. People thought it was weird that I used "adult" words as a kid, and was very technical and exact when speaking. I was often mistaken as being from places like Brooklyn because I had a weird affectation to my voice.

And there's just. This fucking line. "Have you heard him talk?". Piper is also the person who clicked McDonough as a synth. It's worth noting that McDonough and Danse both use words like "rabble".

But seriously.

Danse goes through his life being respected for his work ethic, intelligence, and strong sense of duty and morals, but he never really bonds with anyone, he doesn't make friends. He's respected, not liked. People want to work with him, but the best they have to say about him is about his work. He makes one single friend in his entire life, and never tries again after that guy dies. And no one tries to befriend him. He's their brother. He's not their friend. And he takes his job too seriously as a commanding officer to attempt emotional connection. He apologizes for overstepping on the few occasions he does.

He talks like a thesaurus, and no one is sure if its to sound smarter, or if that's just genuinely how he thinks. It's strongly implied to be the latter. He's incredibly knowledgeable and passionate about various topics. He sounds like a kid on Christmas when you risk life and limb cracking open a vault that's supposed to have riches, but instead, just has some historical items. He throws his Brotherhood prejudice away the moment he finds a farm run by ghouls that uses pre-war structures in a creative way, and scolds you if you do the Brotherhood thing and insult them. He also seemingly forgets that he's in the Brotherhood when meeting a child ghoul, that kid's parents, a shy, insecure ghoul who clings to children's media (despite Danse finding children's entertainment stupid and a waste of time), and Daisy.

And then there's the synth thing.

Danse has always been Danse, but one little word gets attached to him and his life turns upside down. His work ethic is no longer a work ethic, it's viewed as a perversion. His intelligence and manner of speech are no longer of his own merit and education he had to have given himself, they become inevitable, things he had no say in. His existence is both erased and explained by one word, and anything else is irrelevant or in question. People who once respected him want nothing to do with him, because this one word puts him in a context they find unnatural, corrupted, inhuman. There's even something there with the Institute. Autism is (incorrectly) associated with vaccines, the government, science gone wrong. It's a man-made horror.

And then you have the people he gets lumped in with, after being thrown out for this one word. They take schadenfreude in it. This is comeuppance, this is deserved. This one word, something they take pride in or have sympathy for and want to protect, suddenly becomes weaponized. It's a source of pride for others, but for this one person, we're going to use it as punishment. You weren't with us from the start, so now you really are on your own. It's not that there isn't a right way to be this one word, it's just that there's a wrong way, and even if you change accordingly, you will never belong with the rest of us.

Its. Autism is about exclusion, from everyone and everything. Always being an outsider, often too polite or nervous or jaded to even bother looking in. And at every point in Danse's life he didn't belong. He was a rogue synth, so he didn't belong in the Institute. He naturally thrives as a soldier, so he didn't belong as a junk seller in Rivet City. He was a synth and considerably more kind and compassionate than the rest of the BOS, so he didn't belong there. And because he was a BOS soldier and is still working out some bad traits after his exile, he isn't welcomed by the people who he was thrown to. Everywhere he goes, there's a big neon sign over his head that changes to whatever word will ward off everyone around him and he's so used to it, the thing that makes him angriest about being a synth is that he doesn't even have parents. He doesn't even have that connection to the world, of being born into it. There is nothing he can connect himself to beyond the Institute (which he hates) and the Brotherhood (which, if he continues to connect himself to, will drive him to suicide out of sense of duty, and he already agreed to not do that)

Its just. His entire story is one of absolute isolation and the final dickpunch of "You've always hated yourself, right? Good news, here's a reason to kill yourself that's professional and won't illicit pity from your peers, so no one will judge you for doing it or grieve you."

#fallout 4 #fo4 #paladin danse #gettin emosh with the babygirl this fine evening #always sobbing about how Hancock hates Danses fucking guts but not as much as he hates Danse laying down and accepting death #theyre such similar people its just that Hancock has finished his first arc of bettering himself. he just hasnt worked thru the guilt #and self hatred #meanwhile danse only gets the realization hes been an ass and needs to change. he never hits act 2 or 3 #because of shit writing

[tkingfisher]

I have a question I just thought of. I remember reading that the potato is something that you can discuss at length. I'm curious about the Irish potato famine (as it's called by many people) of 1845 - 52. The potato blight killed a whole load of potatoes, and blight warnings are still a thing today. But... honestly, why? Was just one variety of potato grown? If not, wouldn't different varieties have resisted? The only thing I'm even remotely familiar with is Panama Disease, which is killing off Cavendish bananas because they're all genetically identical - was that the case for the potatoes being grown at the time?

Oh boy. Okay, this is a huge complicated topic and I can only do the Cliff Notes version and even that is absurdly long, but here we go.

The cause of the Irish Potato Famine were, in order:

A) the British

B) the British but moreso

C) still the British but also capitalism

and

D) monoculture

I am not nearly so equipped to talk about A-C as many, many other people, so let’s talk about D.

Now, the humble potato is frankly one of the most glorious products of agricultural science ever created, for which we must thank the indigenous people of Peru, who produced some goddamn geniuses at potato breeding (and also figured out how to freeze-dry potatoes centuries before Idahoan.) The Incas had literally thousands of potato varieties, every size, shape, color, growing condition, right down to sacred potatoes only for consumption by the royal family. They did seriously epic shit with a weird little tuber, a feat perhaps only surpassed by the geniuses who made corn out of teosinte.

Quite a long time later—by which I mean about ten thousand years after the potato was domesticated—the Irish were growing a potato variety called the Lumper. It was a big, coarse, ugly-ass potato which apparently didn’t even taste that great. Irish farmers had other potatoes that they liked a lot better! But the Lumper had three things going for it—it gave huge yields, tolerated nutrient-poor soil, and it didn’t mind wet feet.

(Wet feet is the gardening term for plants with their roots in waterlogged soil. Most potatoes do not actually like wet feet and will rot. But the Lumper was fine with it, which meant that basically you could grow the things in poor soggy soil, which large swaths of Ireland had in generous supply.)

Because of a whole lot of really abusive shit by various landowners, a lot of Irish people ended up dependent on the Lumper for their diet, and I mean dependent. You can live for a really long time on cow’s milk and potatoes if you have to, and a potato that would produce massive yields in crappy wet soil was a godsend. So you had vast areas that were planted with just the Lumper. (There are some reports that other, better-tasting potato varieties were grown for the landlords, but while the workers dug them, they were not allowed to eat them. I can’t speak to the truth of this or not, but it’s definitely worth looking up a full history of the socioeconomics of the famine, if you ever happen to be feeling too good about the world and want to be crushed.)

Unfortunately, the Lumper has one other significant trait—it is extremely vulnerable to potato blight, a disease caused by Phytophtora infestans, which is a weird little thing called an oomycete. It’s more like a fungus than it is anything else, but it’s actually in a separate kingdom called Chromista. (Currently, anyway. Taxonomy is where idealistic young scientists go to become old before their time.) Nevertheless, for our purposes, let’s just call it a fungus. (Also, Chromista is a great name for an alicorn in My Little Pony.)

P. infestans loooooves members of the Solanum clan, which include tomatoes and potatoes. This love is not returned. In a tomato, it’s usually called late blight, in a potato, it’s potato blight, no matter what you call it, it’s bad news. It likes damp, cool conditions, and of course Ireland is basically one big damp cool condition, so once the blight got established, it was in heaven.

Blight on a potato takes about five days from start to finish. This sucker is FAST. One day there’s a blotch on a leaf, next day there’s some whitish stuff under a leaf, then the tubers are suddenly turning black and mushy and stink to high heaven. You may even think you got a good tuber and put it in storage and then you open the door to the root cellar and the whole bin has rotted practically overnight.

The spores can spread by wind, and once it landed on a potato plant, all it needed was like two days above fifty degrees with high humidity, and it was off and running. And it gets in the soil. But worst of all, it lives in the tubers themselves.

Potato cultivars, for those who don’t know, are almost always a clone of the parent. All Yukon Golds are basically the same Yukon Gold. You pop a tuber off a plant, you pop it in the ground, it grows another plant just like the first one, asexual reproduction at its finest.*

Now, potatoes can and do set seed, but there’s some variation even in a seed with two parents of the same variety. Two Yukon Golds might give you Yukon Goldish. Mix up multiple varieties and you don’t always know what you’re gonna get.** (I have grown potatoes from mixed seed and thus made my own cultivars, it’s fun, but the results are wildly variable. Some don’t set tubers at all, some contain high levels of solanine.***)

If you want specific, uniform varieties that all perform the same way, you probably use the tubers. More importantly, tubers start growing right away once you wake them up, whereas potato seedlings can be finicky and often won’t do anything impressive the first year.

To make matters more confusing, the little tuber clones are referred to as seed potatoes.

Anyway, back to the blight. Everybody was growing from little tuber clones, which could be infected with the blight. This means that if your seed potatoes are infected with blight, even if they look fine, if you plant them, your whole crop is infected. The minute you get a cool wet day, the oomcyte wakes up and goes to town. And if you leave an infected potato in the ground, it infects everybody else—and if you’ve ever dug potatoes, you know that you always, always miss one.

Well. The blight came, it hit the Lumper, and it spread like wildfire. The Lumper grew in the wet conditions the blight loved, and was also really susceptible to it, so it was a match made in hell. There were potato varieties even then that were more resistant to the blight, but they were tiny islands and a sea of blight was washing over them daily, so they eventually succumbed. Even if you planted a different potato, if it was in soil that had previously held the Lumper, it was likely doomed.

This is the problem with monocultures. You plant all one variety and it’s susceptible to some particular bug, when that bug hits, you have no fall back position. And potatoes, being more or less clones, are even more vulnerable than most seed-grown crops, and this bug is particularly nasty and the spring of ‘45 was exactly the right weather and the British government was being particularly evil and ultimately a million people starved to death because of a perfect storm.

The Lumper still exists. Somebody turned up some heirloom seeds back in 2008 and grew them out, and what they got is probably pretty close to the original. Being seed grown, it doesn’t carry the blight. It’s an ugly, watery, kinda waxy potato that even its champions think tastes sorta okay, I guess. Cultivariable, one of the few sources I can find, says that in addition to not being resistant to blight, it’s not resistant to anything else either, and there’s not much point in trying to grow it unless you have long dry summers and no local blight.

And that is the saga of the Lumper, the blight, and why I personally always plant at least four varieties of potato.

* There’s some subtleties here, but for layman’s purposes, we’ll go with this.

** It’s actually way complicated, but this is already hella long.

*** Same stuff that makes green potatoes toxic. Super bitter, so you know right away it’s inedible and spit it out. We still refer to taste-tasting the new crop from seed as “the Potato Suicide Pact” but it’s not actually dangerous.

#gardening #potatoes #potato famine #long #agriculture

[star-anise]

You just posted like ten different things about potatoes in the span of maybe five minutes, and I gotta know your take on "The Martian".

Like, the (fictional) man alone on a planet literally only survives because of potatoes shrink-wrapped in plastic for a Thanksgiving meal. If they weren't slated to be on Mars for Thanksgiving, he would have died.

And Andy Weir (author of the original novel) did such a good job with the science of every other element to the story, I honest-to-god believe that potatoes could actually manage to grow in Martian soil (even if that's not been proven for certain afaik).

Which means..... could potatoes terraform Mars into sustaining life??? Are potatoes the key to the universe???

Haha sorry for going so hard on them! Those were mostly all posts from 2020 when gardening and fantasy worldbuilding were lockdown fixations for me. One of them blew up recently so I wanted to give The People more of the content it seemed they were looking for. I don't actually know a lot about potatoes. I just think they're neat.

I do not want to take apart the concept of "colonizing Mars" as some kind of woke gotcha. I want to take your question seriously and charitably. However, I just am the kind of person who's like "Hmm, 'colonize', we should really stop and unpack that word," so let's do that, without forgetting the potato element.

(What "I don't know a lot" means: Potatoes were a crop my family grew several acres of for a few years on our farm before we switched our focus to sheep. I am about 50% as reliable as a horticultural brochure on various potato diseases and growing condition issues. I have listened to two University lectures and read perhaps four historical journal articles beginning-to-end on how the Columbian Exchange affected early-modern Europe, that and half as much again on medieval and early modern European farming practices and population changes, and perhaps three science/history articles specifically on the domestication and proliferation of the potato. I am a white Canadian who actively seeks out information and training in Indigenous history and culture in the Americas, but that's probably still only equal to like, two Native Studies classes in university. I know more than the average person on this topic, but I am also not an expert compared to people who have devoted serious time to learning about this.)

But I have some intuitions in a couple of ways:

The Martian is probably being wildly over-optimistic about its potatoes. They would probably have been irradiated into sterility before being vacuum-packed, and I don't think you can split and propagate them that quickly or successfully. However, potatoes can definitely grow in all kinds of conditions (including under my sink).

They might not be the world's healthiest or happiest potatoes, tho. Soil quality definitely affects the end product. Presumably Watney, being a botanist studying Mars' soil composition, knew how much he had to ameliorate his soil with latrine compost (which would definitely have needed a LOT of processing, since human waste is generally not good for plants, but maybe he used chemicals to speed that up?) to get good soil. However, we would probably need to add a LOT of shit to Mars' soil (and air, and water) for it to host plant life.

Mark Watney makes a joke about having "colonized Mars" because "colony" is Latin for "farm" and he farmed on Mars so haha, funny joke! And we talk about colonies on Mars partly because that's what science fiction did, and a lot of science fiction has been into that colonialism aesthetic. But colonialism and empires actually aren't great, not just because they necessitate huge amounts of racism, oppression, and genocide—I know, you asked me a fun question about potatoes and did not sign up for this, I'm not here to drag you, hear me out—but because they're also really sucky models for agriculture and successful societies generally.

My British ancestors tried to be colonial farmers in a place that is sometimes colder than Mars (Canada's Treaty Six), and let me tell you: IT SUCKED. Most of the crops and herbs and vegetables and flowers that settlers here brought from home and are used to? DON'T FUCKEM GROW. For the Canadian prairies to become conventional farmland, farmers and scientists had to scramble to find, or produce, cold-hardy varieties of everything from wheat to roses. A lot of flowers and plants that are unkillable invasive zombie perennials in other climates don't survive our winters no matter hard we try. The trees and flowers that hold cultural or sentimental attachments for us often don't grow here. The climate is so harsh and population is spread so thin that we cannot do the 100 mile diet and eat foods we're familiar with, and can hardly even manage the 1000 mile diet. (Not that I try, but, my family did once look into it)

A huge number of colonial homesteads, where the pioneers go out on their little covered wagon and build little houses on the prairie? Failed miserably and got bought up by land speculators. My own family came out to Alberta in the 1880s and moved around from land assignment to land assignment, like, six times before settling at their current place in the early 1900s.

Meanwhile: POTATOES

Potatoes are less than ten thousand years old! I am not any kind of expert on archaeology, please nobody throw things, but humans showed up in the Andes (think: high, cold mountains) of South America roughly 9,000 years ago. There are hundreds of wild potato varieties, but they generally produce fairly tiny tubers. It took active work of Indigenous Andean people around 8,000 years ago around Lake Titicaca to cultivate specific strains of potato, doing oldschool genetic modification to make them bigger, more delicious, and hardier. From that cultivation effort around a single species of wild potatoes, they produced thousands of cultivated potato varieties.

Ancient Andean farmers and botanists also played a big part in cultivating quinoa from wild amaranth, as well as producing modern food crops you probably haven't heard of, like oca, olluco, mashua, and yacon, and also coca, which may get a bad rap because it's what cocaine and coca-cola are made from but you cannot deny it's got kick.

Basically, Indigenous people of the Americas (South, Central, and North) went all in on botany and plant cultivation. Plants that we take for granted now have mostly been developed by Indigenous people in the past few thousand years: Tobacco, sunflowers, marigolds, tomatoes, pumpkins, rubber, vanilla, cocoa, sweetcorn, maize, and most kinds of pepper except peppercorn. These things were not found; they were made, by careful cultivation of the world as it was.

This gives us a vision of the future. Colonization, and industrial agriculture, both lean us towards the vision of a totally uniform end product, with the same potato varieties grown on each farm because we have made every farm the same. Instead we could embrace biodiversity and focus on privileging local knowledge and considering the interactions of environment, plants, microbiota, and people. We could create potatoes that were happy on Mars. We could create Mars that is happy to have us. We could create a society that can accept what Mars has to offer.

A lot of why we dream about colonizing Mars is the idea that the Earth itself is dying, that we are killing it, and we need to abandon this farmstead and seek out a new frontier. I acknowledge that shit is bad, but I don't agree with that framing. I am increasingly persuaded that there is a third path between ecological destruction and mass exodus, and I think we need to reject European colonial mentality that creates the forced choice. I find far more use in privileging the knowledge of people who live on and with land than their landlords and rulers, and I especially find value in Indigenous knowledge of land management practices and food production.

I am absolutely not saying that Indigenous people were or are wonderful magical ~spiritual beings~ who frolicked in an Edenic paradise that only knew death and disease once white people showed up. This isn't noble savage bullshit, nor am I invoking people who existed once but whom I have never met. I am saying that I have Indigenous neighbours, colleagues, relatives, and elected representatives. I have learned about mental health, leatherworking, botany, and ecology from Metis and First Nations elders and knowledge-keepers. And like. They have good and useful shit to say.

This is about culture, not race. It is not that their biological DNA means that they know more than me about how to get food from this landscape. It's about cultural history and what we learn from our heritages. What have our cultures privileged? Like, Europe has historically been super into things like metallurgy, domesticating livestock, and creating dairy products. If I want to smelt iron or choose animals to make cheese from, European society would have a lot of useful information for me! And what Indigenous cultures in the Americas have historically focused on instead of cows and copper* include 1) getting REAL familiar with your local flora and figuring out how to make sure you have lots of the herbs and grains and roots and berries you need, and 2) how to make a human society where people can live and have good lives, but do not damage the environment enough to impair the ability of future generations to have the same sort of life.

*Several indigenous American cultures did practice various forms of metallurgy. It's just one of those proportional things, about what societies really go for

Conclusion

I think we could use the processes that formed the potato to find and foster forms of life that could survive on Mars. It would involve learning to think that botany is a sexy science, and understanding just how rich and complicated the environment is. To oxygenate the atmosphere, we'd have to get super enthusiastic about algae and lichen and wetlands. We would have to learn to care deeply about the microorganisms living in the soil, and whether the potatoes are happy.

We'd have to create an economy that counts oxygen and carbon dioxide production on its balance sheets. To learn how to wait for forests to grow back after a fire, instead of giving up in despair because the seedlings aren't trees yet. To do the work now and be hopeful even though we might not see the payoffs for decades, or our victories might only be witnessed by future generations.

So yes, I think we could totally plant potatoes on Mars

But I also think that if we ever got there, we'd have turned into the kind of people who could also save Earth in the first place.

Which makes it a good enough goal in my opinion.

#staranise original #agriculture #potatoes my beloved

[00-jammy-00]

Heyo, I'm so obsessed with your work 🙂 I hope you don't mind me flooding your asks for the next week. Can I get a yan!creep? Like, he finds reader (who's like a freshman) and thinks like "Damn, their hot" or smth, idk. And after he just starts stalking them, leaving creepy *explicit* photos of reader. If you feel uncomfortable with anything about my request, you can always just cut stuff out, or not do it entirely.

Please and thank you!

(P.S: Am I the only one that can't understand tumblr's color text? 😩 Seriously, I changed one letter and the whole paragraph went orange! I DID IT AGAIN WHILE TYPING THIS)

-🐑anon

Yan!Creep HC’s

Yan!Creep x GN! Reader

Content Warning - Yandere themes, stalking, obsession, implied blackmail, theft, nsfw mentions

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Yan!Creep who first saw you walking down the hallways, cluelessly looking for your classes. He swear his heart stopped when you looked at him with those doe like eyes asking for help.

Yan!Creep who started to accidentally follow you around. “Wow! How funny to see you here Y/N!” “This is my locker.” He struggled a bit to try and find your classes but eventually he knew your whole schedule, now he could accidentally run into you all the time!

Yan!Creep who didn’t like the way other people were starting to look at you. The guy from your science class is being extra nice to you? How strange. It’s even stranger how now the guy won’t even look in your direction without terrirfied eyes.

Yan!Creep who some how found out your dorm and also some how has a spare set of keys?? You’ve started to find some of your underwear and perfumes missing as well, it makes you paranoid.

Yan!Creep who has begun following you even more. You guys are best friends now! Aren’t you happy? Do you find him nice? Do you find him smart? Do you find him attractive? Hot? Sexy? Cute? Handsome? Say yes.

Yan!Creep who comforts you when your new friends have suddenly stopped wanting to be around you. Shh, they are just jealous, don’t worry, he’s here for you.

Yan!Creep who says he’s picked up bird watching as a hobby when you discover a pair of binoculars in his bag, this led to him frantically searching up different types of birds around your area at 5am to get rid of any lingering questions.

Yan!Creep who has a shrine of you in his wardrobe that holds everything he’s ever stolen borrowed from you. Notes, underwear, clothing, perfume, pens, water bottles, headphones, jewellery, chewed gum, fuck even sex toys are kept in his shrine. He can still smell your scent on them too!

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#male yandere #male yandere x reader #male yandere x y/n #male yandere x you #soft yandere #tw yandere #x female reader #x gn reader #yandere aesthetic #yandere male