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allysunny · 4 months

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hiii! first of all, congratulations for 200 followers! im so proud heheee! and second, i just read your nanami's fic (patching up wounds) AND IT'S SO GOOD 😭😭🤍🤍 WE LOVE FLUFFY FLUFF NANAMI

and third! i wanna make a request hehee

15+28 with a make up prompt with nanami 🤍

"Is it someone else?" + "Do you trust me?" / "Always" + Make up x Nanami Kento

Words: 4.3k words

Warnings: Angst, mentions of infidelity, arguments, some angst? Some suggestive themes, but nothing downright explicit, I would say? I'm so bad at tagging omg if I missed anything!

A/N: Hey everyone! Here's another one of the entries for my 200 Follower Event!!! I missed writing for my man Nanami sm, I love this man so bad... <3<3<3

Anyway, I would ALSO like to say that my Event is now CLOSED!!!! I'll of course finish the requests I have in my inbox, but regarding this event in particular, I won't be taking any more! I feel like if they keep on coming, I'm going to panic and not be able to finish any of them.

Thank you for everyone that participated and sent in their great ideas; they're all genius and I am having a blast writing them. Thank you so much!

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this little piece!!!

You'd long stopped waiting for Nanami to come home

Asking him to please come at a more decent hour, and letting you know whether he was going to make it to dinner or not proved to be useless, as he often did not check his phone, and even when he did, he'd give you one-worded replies that did nothing to soothe your nerves. You loved your husband; knew him inside out and loved everything about it. But sometimes, these little quirks managed to annoy you.

Were you being selfish? All you wanted was for your husband to come home to you, have some dinner, ask how your day was, maybe make love to you once or twice. But as days turned into weeks, it seemed like none of those were a possibility.

Dinnertime together became "Sorry. Won't be able to make it in time. Don't wait for me." texts, casual conversations about your jobs became "I had an exhausting day. Can we not talk about it?", asking your husband for a bit of affection became "I'm really tired. Some other day." It was starting to become unbearable.

You knew Nanami to be a hard worker. He was a very thorough man, efficient and determined, and he always gave 101% of himself in whatever he did. But lately, it seemed that he was lacking in terms of your own life. It hurt to eat by yourself, it hurt to read or watch TV on an empty couch, it hurt to go to sleep in cold sheets.

You'd tried to talk to him once, ask what was happening. Not only did he brush it off as him simply being busy, but he also failed to provide you with information as what to what kept him busy. He was never a man of many words. You knew this. But it was one thing for him to be quiet and reserved. It was another to simply refuse to tell you certain information about what he did for a living.

All he'd told you was that he worked at a high school, as a teacher. Taught something about finance. On one hand it made sense. All the books and certificates inside his study were clearly not for show, and he'd always been extremely intelligent. But on the other hand, it was weird. Nanami never expressed much interest in teaching. Hell, you didn't even know he had the qualifications for teaching. But apparently, he did, and that's what he wanted to do from now on.

He'd told you it was a high paying job. He wouldn't be as miserable as he was as a salaryman, and you two would be able to take that lovely vacation in Malaysia, the one you'd been envisioning for years now. But how did a high-school teacher earn so much? And why did he have to spend so much time at his school?

The sound of the door broke you out of your thoughts, and you looked behind you from your place in the couch. Your husband walked home, hair slightly dishevelled and jacket hung on his arm.

"I'm home," he said softly, before taking off his shoes and hanging his coat.

"Hey," Your feet instantly carried you from the couch to him, as if second nature. Your feet would carry you anywhere Nanami Kento was, that is how deep your love for him run. Because where was home, if not by his side?

"I stopped by the bakery on my way home," he mumbled, placing a white paper bag on top of the couch. "Brought you those croissants you like."

There he was, your sweet husband, remembering you even when you worried and worried. Here you were, chewing the inside of your cheek out of sheer preoccupation, and he was out there buying you croissants. You felt a little bit guilty.

"Thank you," you smiled, returning to his side, and continuing to speak, "How was work?" It was when he flexed visibly in front of you when you moved to undo the knot of his tie that you had realised, you'd asked the wrong question.

"Tiring. I don't want to talk about it," he answered, moving past you towards the kitchen.

The guilt you'd briefly felt earlier washed away, if only a little bit.

Dinner was uneventful, as usual. It was nice having his company, but it was almost as if it didn't even make any difference. He was quiet, more so than usual. You tried getting a few conversations going, talking about your day, gossiping about your coworkers, but only received one-syllabic words, or soft hums of acknowledgement. You tried to get him to talk about his work, but he wouldn't budge. You asked about his students, and he shut you down. It seemed as if there was a barrier coming up between you and your husband, and you didn't like it one bit.

He offered to do the dishes for you while you decided to go take a quick shower, and when you came back, you found him sitting on top of your bed, quietly reading a book.

"Aren't you heading to bed?" you asked.

"I came home late enough the other days. I'd like to enjoy a book for a while before I go to sleep. Is that so wrong?" There was a slight harshness to his voice that you didn't like, and you became defensive.

"I'm sorry – it's just, you've been so tired every other day, I thought you'd maybe like to get some actual sleep."

Nanami must've realised the tone he'd taken with you and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"I appreciate your concern, honey, I really do. But I'd like to relax for a bit. I promise to get enough sleep."

You nodded and grabbed the remote, turning on the TV in front of you to zap through a few channels. When you couldn't find anything that amused you, you picked up your phone and scrolled through social media, internally sighing at the photos of your friends and their respective partners on their own private vacations. It reminded you of Malaysia, and it made you frown just a bit. You had half a mind to ask your husband, but there was no way you wanted him to think you were annoying, so just kept quiet.

After a while, he put down his book and walked towards the bathroom to get ready for bed. You would've done the same, but he closed the door behind you, causing you to wait for him. When you were able to brush your teeth and go through your whole skin care routine, you returned to bed.

Nanami was already lying down, facing away from you.

It hurt. A lot. You used to sleep pressed close against each other. He would hug you close to him, and you'd fall asleep to the beating of his heart. It nearly made you cry, until you realised you were made of tougher things, and would do your best not to let it get to you.

You laid down, pulled the covers over your body, and looked at your husband's back, admiring the broad planes of his shoulders and the pale skin you so adored to touch and kiss. It had been a while since you'd done both.

You don't know what made you do this. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe you just missed your husband too much and seeing him like this before you awakened memories in you that had your cheeks heat up and your thighs clench instinctively. But something made you press against Nanami's back and snake your arms around his chest.

He all but whispered your name, and you couldn't tell if in exasperation, or desire.

"I miss you so much," you mumbled, pulling your body up to sit beside him, and leaning down to press kisses against his neck and jaw. You felt him tense, and something inside you churned. Why was he tensing before you? Before your touch? He was your husband. Were you so unfamiliar that he would flinch away from you?

"I'm tired," he sighed, rolling so his body would stay even more out of reach.

"We don't have to do much;" you mumbled, scooting closer to him. Your hands carded through his hair. "I just miss you. Miss your touch, miss your body," each word was punctuated with a kiss on his jaw, and you heard Nanami sight. "Please, Kento. Don't you miss me?"

Why you kept going, you had no idea. He had arrived home extremely tired and had not given you any signal that he wanted this. In fact, the only thing he'd demonstrated was wanting distance, peace, and quiet.

But still, you kept going, kissing his soft skin, and playing with his golden hair.

"I have to get up early in the morning," he said, but you could tell his voice was breathy, husky. You gloated internally, happy over the fact you still had this effect over him.

"We can be quick. Can't we?" He could. You could. Nanami liked to take his time with you – and lord knew how much you liked it when he did. But you also knew he was efficient. You'd been pressed against several walls inside bathrooms or broom closets, mouth against the column of his neck to stifle your broken moans to know it. "Please? You know I'll make you feel good."

Nanami remained quiet for a few seconds, and for a while you thought he might say yes. Then, he promptly moved away from you, his voice cold as ice.

"I'm tired. I need to get up early tomorrow, I don't have the time for this."

"But Kento – "

"Can't you listen to a word I say? You've been going against my wishes all night." This time, he turned to face you, a hint of cruelty in his eyes, something that made you tear up immediately. "All I want is to get some rest. I can't do that with you all over me."

You said nothing, staring at the man before you. Is this how he felt? That you were all over him? That you'd been going against all his wishes? It's not your fault you wanted to talk to your husband, to be worthy of some of his time.

"I just wanted to spend some time with you," you replied, brows furrowing in confusion. "What's so wrong with that?"

"I've told you before, I'm tired. I got home late today; all I want to do is just get some sleep – "

"You're always getting home late now!" You raised your voice, sitting up completely and crossing your arms over your chest. "And you're always tired. What am I supposed to do?"

"Not disturb me, when I'm working so hard for us."

"At a high school? I love you, Kento, and I love how dedicated you are to your work, but what's a high school got that makes you get home at nearly 11PM?"

"It's complicated," he muttered, looking away.

"Is it now?"

"Yes! It is! And I wish you would just let it go and let me sleep. God knows I need it."

That's when you ask the question that's been plaguing your mind for a while, the one you'd never been brave enough to ask, the one you never wanted to ask, afraid of what the answer could be.

"Is it someone else?"

You could've asked anything, and yet Nanami would've never guessed what you'd just said. Why would you ever think such a thing? Did he ever give you reasons to think he loved anyone else other than you?

It seemed almost silly to ask, because as soon as he thought the question over in his head, he realised just how much he'd been neglecting you.

"It's not," he reassured you, sitting up and turning to face you, now sitting up as well. He hadn't realised you had started to cry, only noticing it when he saw small tears running down your lovely face. He'd made you cry. He had been an asshole and now you were crying because of him. Just great.

"I'm just working hard. For you. For us."

"Don't give me any of that bullshit. No high school teacher has to stay inside the school until close to 11PM. You can't even make it do dinner most nights. Just what the hell are you doing in there? Is it someone else, Kento? Fuck – just tell me if it is because I can't take this any longer! If you’re just staying with me because you can’t be bothered to get a divorce, then I don't want it!" You said, crossing your arms over your chest. You couldn't control the tears that had escaped, and once they started to fall, you feared they wouldn't stop.

"It's not someone else!" He said, running a hand through his blonde locks. "Look, darling, I only love you – "

"Then tell me why the hell you stay in there until so late."

Nanami was stunned into silence.

You'd never really asked about his job. He had told you he was a teacher and made up some believable enough financial-like class. You'd believed it, and he thought it would be the end of it. But Nanami should've known better. You were curious, and worried about him a lot. It was very endearing, and he loved you even more for it, but sometimes – like now – it could be a tad impractical.

"I'm working," he whispered.

"Bullshit. Again, with that stupid excuse – I don't believe you, Kento." It was the first time in 6 years together that you had ever doubted your husband. And it tasted foul. Doubt tasted foul, taster bitter in your mouth, and you hated how quickly its taste spread over everything you said. "Just tell me the truth already!"

"I'm telling you the truth, I'm a teacher, and I'm working!"

"I know high school teachers, Kento!" you yelled, "And they might bring some work home, but they're usually there in time for dinner. Hell, every teacher I've spoken to gets home much earlier than you, and everyone has said that your working hours are unusual. And there's of course, the matter of the bruises."

Some big, some small, but it has become more and more usual for your husband to arrive home injured. At first it was nothing. A paper cut. An accident while cutting bread. He slipped. He tripped. He fell. The excuses started getting weirder and weirder, and you’d become suspicious as hell.

"They're just accidents honey, I told you – " Nanami's words do little to soothe you, instead enraging you even further.

"No, they're not! You've never been clumsy Kento. You've never tripped, never fallen, never had accidents with knives! Just tell me what's going on? Have you gotten yourself into something dangerous, Ken? What is it?"

Nanami looked at you, at your eyes wide with worry and heartbreak, at your pouting lips and cheeks wet from the small pearly tears. And as much as the sight broke him inside, this wasn't the time nor the place to try and talk sense into you. He couldn't tell you about what he did, couldn't introduce you to the world of Sorcery and Curses. He'd only endanger you, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Nanami sighed.

"I think you should need some sleep. We should both get some sleep and continue this conversation in the morning."

That was the last straw. How dare he dismiss this conversation, as if it weren't something important and worthy of your attention? As if your whole relationship, your trust, your life wasn't on the line?

It was too much.

"Out." You uttered, pointing at the door.

"What?"

"Out." You repeated. "How am I supposed to share a bed, let alone a life with a man I don't trust, with a man who insists on lying to my face like this? I can't sleep on the same bed as you."

"Honey, you can't be serious – " Nanami pleaded, but you were intent on interrupting him.

"Out! I won't share a bed with you until I trust the man sleeping beside me!"

With this, Nanami nodded silently. He got up and promptly left the room, leaving his pillow where it was on the bed next to you. He knew you – you might be upset, but you still loved him, and you couldn't fall asleep with some sort of presence from him next to you. He'd found you once or twice hugging his pillow as you slept, and it made him smile. Ever since, he’d sprayed it once or twice with his cologne or aftershave, to see which scents made you relax more. It was corny and lame as hell, yes. But it helped you a lot, and he was glad for it.

Once the door of your bedroom was closed, you simply let go.

Loud sobs erupted from you, and you hid below the blankets, hoping the small fortress of cloudy fluffiness would save you from all the anguish you were feeling, and wishing sleep would take you soon.

With Nanami's pillow hugged close to your body, you found that it did, and you were out in just a matter of minutes.

The following morning, you woke up to the smell of pancakes and orange juice.

Weird, you thought, who the hell is making pancakes?

You got up and ready, going through with your usual morning routine before putting on some clothes and walking downstairs. You’re not used to having company on your day off, let alone wake up to some delicious as hell smells.

When you walk into the kitchen, you spot your husband in front of the stove, a spatula in his hands, whistling some tune he seems to be hearing from the radio.

It was as if last night hadn’t happened at all, as if instead of refusing your touch and walking away, he’d turned to you and reciprocated everything.

Nanami turned to you, having heard the soft thud of your fuzzy slippers against the floor. He was wearing his “Kiss the Cook” apron, the one you’d jokingly gifted to him a few years ago and hadn’t seen him wear in a long time. If you weren’t so upset at him, it’d have made you smile.

“Good morning,” he said, placing a plate of pancakes and a glass of orange juice on your usual spot at the table.

“What’s all of this?” you asked, hesitant to sit down. Was he going to pretend it was all okay?

“An apology.”

You stopped in your tracks. An apology. Huh.

“I behaved terribly last night,” Nanami sighed and placed the rest of the pancakes on a separate plate, also putting it on top of the table. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded and sat down, taking a sip from the orange juice. It was great, and it took you every bone in your body not to jump on your husband and shower him with kisses. It’d been a good while ever since he prepared you breakfast like this.

Well, since he’d gone out of his way to do something nice and apologise, you wouldn’t play games. You and Nanami had long gone past that stage.

“Surely, you understand everything I said came from a place of worry,” you told him, grabbing your favourite jam (that Nanami had so attentively put in your reach) and smearing it all over a pancake. Your voice was calm. Not too sweet; firm, but still somewhat soft. “You’re barely home nowadays, Kento. And I miss you. You come home with scratches on your face and bruises on your arms. What am I supposed to think?”

Your husband sat before you and grabbed a glass of orange juice himself, before starting to speak.

“I understand. And I can guarantee that everything I have told you is the truth.”

You stopped your arm, fork up in the air.

“The truth? Please, Kento, I’m tired of that.”

“I’m serious.”

He shifted in his seat and sighed.

“Look – I didn’t lie to you when I told you about my new job.”

“Hm. But?” you asked, taking the forkful of pancake to your lips.

“But – “ he sighed again, “I wasn’t entirely honest either.”

“I see.”

“The truth is, I can’t tell you all about my job.”

You raised an eyebrow. Is this how he was planning to get on your good graces again?

“I’m a teacher, yes. But my job, it’s… It’s hard to explain. It’s dangerous. And I don’t want you tangled up in that world.”

Your stomach twisted in an unpleasant knot. Dangerous?

“Kento, did you get involved with the wrong people?” you whispered. Surely, that couldn’t be true. The sweet man before you would never dabble in those nasty, sketchy business you always saw out there, the kind that would have him trapped for life and made a slave to their every whim.

“No! No – Christ, no,” he was quick to reassure you, reaching out to hold your free hand. You decided not to move it, allowing the warmth of his palm to spread through yours. “It’s not like that. I did not get involved with any kind of bad people. I promise you that. But my job is dangerous, and I would be putting you in danger if I told you all about it. But I can’t stand keeping you in the dark like this – it hurts to see you suffer.”

Now you were getting scared. What the hell had your husband gotten himself into? A dangerous job? That would put you in danger? What was he talking about?

“Fuck, it’s,” he released your hand, and you immediately missed his touch. Nanami rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and shook his head. “It’s so complicated. I don’t even know where to start. I don’t even know if you’ll believe me. I just… I just need some time. Please. If you’ll have me, if you love me. I just need some time, and I’ll explain everything to you.”

“Is this what you want to do?” You asked

“Yes.”

“And you’re saying it’s dangerous.”

“It is.”

“Is that why you’re injured sometimes?”

“Yes. But I promise you – everything is okay. Everything is fine. I promise you darling – it’s okay.”

You looked at him, and he looked at you.

And there was something in his eyes that made you understand.

Not what he did, or how he did it or when.

But that he was having a tough time explaining it to you. You could see his internal dilemma clearly, and it made you ache a bit, because you saw just how conflicted he was. You loved reading. Books of all kinds. Long, short. Fun or emotional. But even after all these years of reading page after page after page, it wasn’t books you’d learned to read best.

It was your husband.

He reached out to hold your hand again. It was warm and it provided comfort. So much comfort – something you needed more than anything right now.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, speaking to you in that barely-a-whisper voice of his, the one he uses to murmur soft words against the skin of your shoulder, the one he used to say his vows to you on your wedding night, away from prying eyes, the one he’d used when he first told you he loved you.

You knew all of Nanami’s voices. Knew his monotone one, directed at coworkers and bosses; knew his warmer one, the one he used when thanking shop clerks, baristas, waiters, workers; knew his joyful one, the one you got to hear every once in a while, deep and rich and warm, accompanied by one or two chuckles if you were lucky; knew his husky one, saved especially for late-night lovemaking or mind-blowing quickies; knew his sugary sweet one, saved only for you.

And of all the voices you knew your husband to have, this was the one you trusted the most. It meant he was serious. It meant he wasn’t lying, it meant he was offering you the whole truth; he’d offer you the whole world with this voice, and you would take it.

“Always,” you found yourself replying, turning your palm, and giving his a soft squeeze.

Because it was true. You’d follow Nanami Kento to the ends of the earth. You trusted him, more than anything. And if he told you he had a hard time telling you, then you would believe him. If he told you everything was going to be fine, you would believe him. You trusted him to tell you what this dangerous job of his was and were ready to support him until the end.

You'd long stopped waiting for Nanami to come home.

But you’d start doing it. Again, and again, and again.

You would wait for him until he came home.

Whether he came home early or late, it didn’t matter. You would know he had been working. You’d know he hadn’t broken the promise he made to you the day you got married and would not lie with someone else. You’d patch up his wounds and kiss his injuries and shower him with love – so, so much love.

All that would matter, is that he would come home to you, and you wouldn’t worry.

Because you loved him, and he loved you.

And as long as you held on to that promise, you knew everything would be okay.

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys enjoyed this little piece! I love Nanami so much, he'd be the most understanding husband, and a great communicator okay.

Once again, I ask for your patience, as uni is kicking my ass real bad, and it's taking me longer to write stuff. I fear it's only going to get worse, and I may have to take a break.

But I'll keep trying until then!

I hope you're all doing well, and have an amazing day!!! <3

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itz-amani · 4 months

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OMG IMAGINES PLEASE OF INTERACTIONS WITH HIGH SCHOOL NANAMI!

For the first time in my life finally! OMGGG THIS ONE HE IS SO EMO AHAHAH I will try my best :)

Thanks for your request!

''I'ts not that I don't like you!''

(Highschool Nanami x reader Imagines) pictures are'nt mine and sorry grammar error

a/n: fluff , a bit of suggestive

Highschool! Nanami the first time he met you, He hates how nice you are . To him , you are like ''happy go lucky or goody two shoes''. You are just like the combination of Haibara and Satoru . The way you greet him every time in the morning felt like a blessing but he is just in denial...

''Good morning Nanami -san !'' You smiled with cheerful smile

He looked away and just nodded , covering his mouth murmuring ''That smile of hers.. Gosh such a sweet girl.. ''

Even Haibara notice his best friend has a big fat ass crush on you. when he asked Nanami about his crush on you Nanami nearly cried. Its literally obvious how Nanami acts when you are around him.

''So you have a crush on her Nanami?~'' Haibara teased

''Please don't spill a word especially to that white hair creep..'' Nanami face reddened than Itadori's shoes.

Highschool! Nanami Who buys you your favorite snack at the vending machine because he knows food is your therapy and he knows how tired you are fighting curses why not treat his crush?

Highschool! Nanami Who got caught red handed by Gojo having a crush on you by having your photo smiling with a peace sign as his phone wallpaper. Gojo teases him like a lot and Geto thinks its cute.

Highschool! Nanami Who confessed to you with the help of Haibara ,Gojo and Geto because this man can't do without them.

''Sooo how are you gonna tell her Nanami? Haibara asked

''Seduce her in bed that will wor-OW SUGURU '' Gojo suggested but ended yelled in pain by Geto smacked his head

''That is not the answer Satoru..'' Geto facepalmed

Nanami ended up confessed to you by reciting a poetry about you ( what a sweet guy huh?)

Highschool! Nanami who has you laying on his lap while waiting for Haibara to finish his mission. You playing his fingers , ranting about life . the man always listen to you.

Highschool! Nanami Who listens to your crappy jokes even tho he thinks its annoying . The type that combs your hair , buys you your favorite color hairpins . He thinks its hot you wearing it.

Highschool! Nanami who gets jealous easily when Gojo talks with you. Gojo just wanted to tease Nanami how protective he is towards you . He once pissed off by Gojo lifting your chin he immediately pulls you away from Gojo , brings you to an empty corridor and having a make out session with you.

Highschool! Nanami and You got voted to be the cutest couple in the school

Highschool! Nanami who starts to saves money for you and him to live in Malaysia together when you guys are adults.

Highschool! Nanami who always have time to tutor you if you don't understand what subject you are hard to catchup especially mathematics. Study dates are always at a cafe or after school.

Highschool! Nanami who adores the couple bracelet you made for him like this photo https://i.pinimg.com/736x/17/6f/04/176f043438f365ffdbd83673308af0df.jpg

Highschool! Nanami who has his own playlist about you . sometimes you guys swap playlist . Shares his earphones with you listening to songs he thinks about you like

Die For You (The weeknd & Arianna Grande)

My love mine all mine (Mitski)

See you Again (Tyler the creator , Kali uchis )

Highschool! Nanami who makes sure you already tied you shoes , Your clumsiness he is just so protective

Highschool! Nanami who lays his head on your shoulder , his hand on your pinky on a train ride . He doesn't like to show his affections in public he prefers PDA when him and you alone.

Highschool! Nanami who invites Haibara to join your guys date such as hangin around in a cafe . The man himself is proud to Nanami's wingman. You and Haibara get along pretty well. He will and never invite Gojo.

Highschool! Nanami who always calls or facetime with you before going to bed .He can't sleep without seeing your face. He needs to make sure that you are in your room , reminding you to sleep early.

''Get some sleep love..''

''Okay if you insist Ken - Ken '' the nickname you gave him he couldn't help blushed a bit

Thank you for your request!

#jjk x reader #jjk comfort #jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #itz.amani writes

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sixteenseveredhands · 1 year

Text

The Colugo: this mammal is able to glide through the air using a fur-covered membrane that stretches across most of its body margin

Colugos are often referred to as "flying lemurs," but genetic studies have shown that they are actually among the closest living relatives of primates, occupying a sister group.

They are native to the tropical rainforests of Southeast Asia, where they are divided into two extant species: the Philippine flying lemur (Cynocephalus volans) can be found in the Southern Philippines, and the Sunda flying lemur (Galeopterus variegatus) can be found in parts of Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, Myanmar, Malaysia, and Indonesia.

The fur-covered membrane that stretches across the colugo's body is known as a patagium; a similar membrane can be found in other gliding mammals (e.g. flying squirrels, sugar gliders, etc.) but the patagium of the colugo is far more extensive, surrounding almost all of the animal's body margin and stretching even between the tail and hind legs.

When they are not actively gliding, female colugos with young offspring will often pull their tails up against their bellies, effectively curling the patagium into a pouch in which the baby can be carried and protected. In order to glide, however, the mother must fully extend her patagium, meaning that she must unfold the pouch; if the baby has not yet learned how to glide on its own, then it must curl itself around the mother's torso and hold on tight as she glides from tree-to-tree.

The extensive size of their patagium means that colugos have far more "wing space" than other gliding mammals, which enables them to glide much further. In a single leap, a colugo may glide across a distance of up to 145 meters (about 475 feet) -- nearly the length of three Olympic-sized swimming pools. Studies have shown that they can glide a total distance of 1,342 meters (4,403 ft) per night, climbing a total of 320 meters (1,050 ft) up into the trees in order to do so. They have extremely strong claws, and the soles of their feet are able to mimic suction-cups, which enables them to maintain a tight grip on tree trunks and branches.

Colugos are most active at night, and they are strictly herbivorous, feeding only on young tree leaves.

I don't normally feature mammals on my blog, but this one in particular seemed too heartbreakingly adorable and too weird for me to ignore. I mean, look at it -- it's like a tiny dinosaur wrapped in a Snuggie!

Sources & More Info:

Science News: On a Cool Night in Malaysia, Scientists Track Mysterious Colugos Across the Treetops

Animal Diversity Web: Galeopterus variegates (the Sunda Flying Lemur)

BioMed Central Journal of Biology: Colugos: obscure mammals glide into the evolutionary limelight

World Wildlife Fund: Flying Lemurs

National Geographic: Why Do Flying Lemurs Glide?

Animal Diversity Web: Cynocephalus volans (the Philippine Flying Lemur)

#mammals #zoology #animals #nature #colugos #sunda #flying lemurs #animal facts #gliders #southeast asia #wildlife #cute animals #cool animals #nature is weird #these guys probably give the very best hugs tho

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jeanette-luminia · 11 months

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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟... || 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 + 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Warning: Shibuya Arc Spoilers, Recent Manga Spoilers, heavy(?) angst, major death???

A/N: I heard "Scott Street" by Phoebe Bridgers from my sister's phone, and suddenly, it sparked something in me. I had to write angst. wrote this in one sitting today so it is not proofread!!

𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

What if It was you instead of him who died by Mahito?

No. It was supposed to be him, not you. It shouldn’t be you. You stood in front of Mahito as his hand stretched into your chest. You were unresponsive, and he couldn’t move. He can’t bring himself to take a step. Take a step. Move. they’ll die.

Nothing. He studies your beat-up feature. Blood is trickling down your left hand as your right has been cut off. He notices your heavy breathing, yet no emotion can be seen in you. You stand in a pool of blood and multiple dead curses. Is this it? No. God, please don’t. You and Kento have been planning your wedding for months. Both of you were excited about the wedding, dreaming of the day that would come when he proposed to you. This shouldn’t end here.

Are you scared? It’s okay to be scared. I get scared too. But with you, I’m less scared. So– you can trust me. If you’re scared, run to him—He’ll make sure he’ll protect you. So, come to him, run to him. Please. He’ll promise to get you out of this hell hole alive—together.

“Y/N…” He sounds pathetic. His lips are trembling, tears threatening to leave his eyes. His grip was lost, trembling at the sight.

Then, you turned to him. He is a man who understands many things. He understands things easily. But this. His strained voice only manages to utter a single word. Why?

Why are you not scared? Why are you just standing there? Why aren’t you doing anything? Why are you smiling at him? Why? Why so suddenly? Why now? Why does it have to be you? Why are you smiling in the face of death? Stop it. Don’t smile. Run to him. You can rest. Rest with him.

Go to Malaysia with him. Live with him. You both planned to live in Malaysia after this. He suggested Kautan. Building a house on a secluded beach. Wake up early in the morning and stroll around the shore as the sun come up. Reading those book that has been collecting dust on the shelf. Cooking together, maybe even baking. Maybe in the holidays, you’d invite Yuuji and the others, even if he doesn’t want to.

Then maybe, if you want to, start a family. Maybe two kids, a girl, and a boy. Then, maybe adopt a dog—or a cat. He would love to see them grow up. Have their own lives, and not following the path you and Kento took.

The voice of Yuuji made him realize that this was the cruel reality he’s gonna live in, from now on. A life that isn’t worth living. He watched as you send him your final smile. Closing your eyes as you accepted your faith. He saw the tears. The tears you desperately hide. They flow without him wiping them away.

“Don’t be a stranger.”

Why does it have you? He wants you back. He doesn’t want to live in a cruel world where you aren’t here. It was simply worth living anymore.

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

What if It was you Instead of Megumi who was taken by Sukuna?

He thought that after he left the prison realm, you were the first one to greet him. He thought that you’d be running into his arms, crying in his shirt, and punching him slightly for leaving you alone. He thought that you’d be smiling, saying “Welcome Back, Satoru.”

He thought that… you’d be safe.

He only then realizes the twisted and cruel reality he lives in as he teleported to where Kenjaku is, he saw you beside him. His six eyes already told him that Sukuna is possessing your body—but he didn’t want to believe it.

You were dressed in a robe that you never wore before. Your hair wasn’t in the style he is used to. Your nails suddenly have gotten sharper. Your eyes were now different. It wasn’t the same eyes that he grow to love. It wasn’t the same eyes that he love to stare at. It wasn’t the same. You weren’t there anymore. Behind those eyes, he can’t see a glimpse of you.

He pretended that he wasn’t affected by it. I didn’t care about them. It was a bitter lie that he want to throw up. Why did this happen?

He came back. He couldn’t stay looking at you— at least not right now.

Shoko, Ijichi, and Utahime stared at him as he sat on the hospital bed. They couldn’t help but sympathize with him, especially Shoko. He looks lost, almost as if he has hit rock bottom.

“...Why.”

None of them know why. But they knew you didn't deserve it. It shouldn’t be you. It was unfair to everyone. To him. To you.

The day that Satoru has to fight you– Sukuna, he pushed the thought away. This isn’t you right now. It’s Sukuna. He can save you. Of course, he can. He is the strongest anyway. Right?

Right?

Fighting you was hard, his emotions keep bubbling to the surface. He kept reminding himself that it wasn’t you. His sweet Y/N isn’t here right now, only Sukuna—

Just before he can make another Domain, he notices a stop in Sukuna. Sukuna gripped his head, groaning. As if he’s losing control. Immense curse energy leaked out. Suddenly, shadows appeared out of nowhere. Those shadows turned into hands and manage to cease Sukuna from moving.

“God damn it, Woman!”

He perked up. “Y/N?”

Then, another shadow appeared on Sukuna’s back. His eyes widen as he watched you appear in the shadow. He sees how exhausted you are. You are pushing your limit too much. He wished he wasn’t trapped in that stupid prison realm.

“I told you, didn’t I? I won’t let you win.”

“You aren’t strong enough.”

You turned to Satoru. And you smiled. Why? What are you planning? Why are you smiling? This isn’t good. He should do something—anything. What are you doing?

“Don’t be a stranger.”

Light overcomes his vision. Once he opened his vision. You weren’t there anymore. Sukuna wasn’t there anymore. No one was in front of him anymore but cherry blossom petals fell from the sky in the middle of November.

His heart hurts. why?

#☕: writes #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #Gojo Satoru #Nanami Kento

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reimenaashelyee · 6 months

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Creator's Guide to Comics Devices: November 2023 Update

The first newsletter since launch came out a few days ago! It summarises all the updates I've made in November, which includes 2 (!) new devices, a sub-device, and other site changes.

Subscribe to the newsletter to get these updates direct to your email.

New Devices:

Aside

A short comment that sits outside of a balloon or character that is not perceived by anyone except the comment maker and the reader. An aside may come from the author, usually placed outside of the panel or near the edges. (Page with examples)

Topper

A secondary row of panels or single panel that goes 'on top' of the main comic. They are typically removable and non-essential, and usually contain the comic's title. (Page with examples)

Sub-device

Markers in Code Switch

Languages are assigned flags, pictographs or other iconographic symbols. (Page with examples)

News from the Curator and Site Changelog

I'm delighted over how well-received the library has been -- thank you to everyone who has shared, commented and provided feedback! I really appreciate the enthusiasm and generosity. <3 As a comics creator taking my first formal steps into the arena of comics studies, there is still a lot to do and to read for the library. Even with 63 devices catalogued, it's only still the beginning!

From the Interwebs

‘The Creator’s Guide to Comics Devices’ Is the First of Its Kind, an Incredible Resource for Comics Creators & Readers Alike (The Mary Sue, Joan Zahra Dark) Lovely roundup from my fellow Cartoonist Cooperative co-founder Joan setting the historical context for Comics Devices and why an accessible resource is like this is due.

Kibbles n Bits (Comics Beat, Heidi MacDonald) An enthusiastic feature of the library in Heidi's roundup.

Shout Outs

Thank you to Ritesh, Tan Juan Gee, Samantha Philipps, Blue Dellinquanti, Ted Anderson and Hannah Pallister for their contributions. (I really need to get that credits/curator's notes page set up. That's this month's to-do) Once again, thank you to the Sequential Artists Workshop Teaching Fellowship for supporting the development of the library this month.

Updates to the Site (Nov 2023)

Added the Store page and dedicated a subsection for it on the homepage, if only to direct people to the already-existing zine that’s currently distributed by Sequential Artists Workshop and myself. I might use that page to hold things like signing up for workshops and panels if they ever happen. Added the Newsletter page so it’s easier to link to across the site and elsewhere. Opened up the page that displays all the devices on one page. Added ‘Contribution’ ‘Newsletter’ ‘All Devices’ to the sidebar. Fixed the 404 page. It suggests the Site Map for advice. Finally opened the Links page! Check out all the resources in there! Thank you to folks who have submitted feedback/contribution! I have added new example pages for Harmonious Juxtaposition/Time & Space/Pictorial Lettering/Colour Coding and a longer definition for Map Panel. Added two new devices – Aside and Topper. Added ‘Markers’ and ‘Balloon Styles’ as a subdevice to Code Switch. Finally set up the Gallery page: this is where comics pages featuring the relevant device will be catalogued. Now for the slow work of filling up the galleries…..

New in Store: The Comics Devices Quick Reference Zine Before the website launched, I produced this zine as a promotional thing + quick reference. This is a 12-page zine showcasing the devices in this library as of 2023 (not including the Topper and Aside). Perfect for students, teachers and anyone who needs a quick, in-person reference if there's no wi-fi available. Sequential Artists Workshop is selling copies for North Americans in their online store. Folks in Australia, New Zealand and Malaysia can directly contact me to get a copy. An ebook version is on the way. I will announce it via newsletter.

#comics devices #comics

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abbyslev · 5 months

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hi guys I WROTE THIS REALLY QUICK it’s been really hectic and like jjk’s been hitting really close to home and i just wanted to share this. sorry for any hearts broken (mine). i got my little drink next to me so prepare for more drunk angst lolzies:)))) been needing a real strong father figure in my life and it’s hard rn smfh

warnings: very very sad angst do not read if you’re fatherless bc it will send you into a spiral (me actually rn) i csnt think if anything else ok ily bye enjoy

Nanami had a quiet life. One where he went to his everyday office job, worked 9-5, went by the bakery and went home.

It was his quiet life up until Gojo left you on his front door step, leaving him with nothing but you and your backpack. Nanami was very angry, not with you of course. How could he ever be mad at a clueless kid?

“How old are you?” He sipped his coffee, peeking at you from the top of the rim.

“You can take me back to where i came from.” Was all you replied with.

So you were troubled. “I’m not going to do that. I spoke with Gojo, sounds like you were in a bad clan. Its not safe for you to go there, but i heard you don’t want to be like them.” “I don’t want to kill.” You mumbled. He felt that. He felt it so deeply, he didn’t want to see his friends dead on Shoko’s table, but that’s the reality.

After a moment of silence, you spoke up. “I’m 17.” You pushed at your food. “Why don’t you try some?” Nanami softly said. Gojo warned you he was a little strict and rough around the edges, but he had been nothing but nice to you. You ate slow bites, taking a sip of water here and there. He could tell you were tense. “I’m Nanami Kento. I guess you’re gonna stay with me for a while.”

“I landed that blow!” You high fived Nanami, running around in circles.

“A little too hard, don’t ya think?” Yuuji scratched his head. “That’s why i told you to keep focused, Itadori.” Nanami shook his head. “I just won me some good dinner, Itadori.” You fixed your skirt, smile beaming. “By almost killing me?” You help him up, rubbing the spot where you hit him. “Yup! I won me some good soup tonight.”

Nanami studied you closely. After days and days of talking, he figured out what you could do. Your technique was too good to go to waste, but he didn’t want to force you into something you didn’t want. So he joined back with you. He promised that as long as you were in there, he’d be by your side.

He never expected such a shy person like you to create so many friendships with everyone around you, especially Itadori. With your technique and his, you two were unstoppable. Nanami felt like a proud dad at that moment.

“Open it, open it!” You shove the box in his hands.

You wrapped the blanket around yourself tighter, smile growing by the second. It was christmas morning, and you had woken up Nanami way to early. You didn’t even sleep from the excitement. He lifted the top off the box, revealing a beach shirt. It was nice, thin fabric. A designer button up. “Thank you, this is beautiful.” He was a little confused as to why you got him a summer shirt in the middle of winter.

You slide an envelope from under your blanket. “This one too.” You grin widely. “What’s this?” Nanami’s brows furrowed. “Open it.” Your eyes are filled with excitement, glossed over. He opened the envelope in a swift move, eyes slowly reading the thick paper.

He looked up slowly, his usual bored look now gone. Replaced with joy and disbelief. “These are…tickets to Malaysia…” He broke into a smile. “Surprise!” You gave him a grin. For the first time since Nanami had met you, he pulled you into a hug. You felt his muscles grow tighter with every second, you could hear his heart beat with excitement.

“Everything’s all settled already. I got us two weeks off, hotel booked and reservations for fun things.” You whispered, patting his back. “Thank you.”

“In here!” You take Itadori’s hand, pulling him into the station.

You had lost Nanami, and you had been trying to find him. You can’t lose him, especially not in Shibuya. You two turned the corner before meeting some stairs. You could hear grunts and see blood splashing everywhere. You two ran down the steps, bumping into Itadori as he came to a halt. What you saw was just like your nightmare. Everything you wished never happened was happening and you couldn’t move.

Nanami’s body was half burned, worn out. His eyes looked tired, body beaten and bruised. His weapon was covered in blood, along with dead curses all around him. Mahito stood behind him, hand on his back.

“Nanami…” Itadori’s voice broke.

“Itadori…” Nanami turned around completely.

He gave you a half smile, meeting your eyes. You covered your mouth, Itadori’s grip around you arm becoming tighter. “You’ve got it from here.” He looked at Itadori before looking back down towards you. He felt so bad, having you see him all like this. You looked tired, sad, beaten, bruised, and scared. Never in his years has he seen you scared.

“I’ll see you in Malaysia, my sweet child.”

His body grew before exploding. One moment he was there, and now nothing but bloody body parts were flying everywhere. You stare at the empty spot, a deafening scream growing in your chest. You couldn’t get anything out, so you stood there, eyes full of tears, waiting for someone to kill you too. Waiting for someone to wake you up, someone to move you. Waiting for Nanami.

He woke you up. Every morning. He would come by your dorm if you misses morning classes. He ate breakfast with you in his office. He would rarely join you and the other students. He’d mentor you for hours and take you to get your favorite Udon noodles if you did good. Even if you didn’t, he’d still treat you. You had your childhood ripped away from you, and like he said, “It is not a sin to be a child.”

He really meant it. He meant every word he had ever said to you. He loved you like you were apart of him.

“We have to go.”

“But…Nanami…” You said as you pointed to the empty space.

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tu-es-gegg · 3 months

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untuk hari bahasa ini, saya cubalah mengajarkan semua tentang sikit budaya melayu dan berkongsi kosa kata juga (ENG TRANSLATION)

(for this language day, I will try to teach a little about Malay culture and share vocabulary as well)

i made the original post detailing some fun stuff abt my culture of being malay (specifically from perspective living as a Malay from Singapore), i want to do an english translation so its more accessible to those who don't speak malay. This isnt an exact translation (plus im adding mroe additonal info) so keep that inmind

FIRST, what is the Malay language? This is an Austronesian language, also the national language in Brunei, Malaysia and Singapore. Malay is usually written in Latin script, also known as Rumi. There is also Jawi script based on Arabic writing. If you want to know (most) letters in Jawi, this is a video stuck in my head from Andalus (I'm bad at writing in Jawi and Arabic too, even though I study, I don't know much;;;)

Malay culture is deeply connected with Muslim culture, that's why a lot of malay festivities and celebrations revolve around the islamic calender. one such celebration is Hari Raya. there are two ceremonies; Aidilfitri and Haji, I will talk about Hari Raya Aidilfitri only because it is close this year and most well known (for context, its litterally in april this year).

The previous month is Ramadan where we fast/puasa. We do not eat from Subuh (around sunrise) to Maghrib (around sunset) (these are two of the names of the prayer times, in Islam we are supposed to pray around 5 times a day during different intervals. it goes Subuh, Zohor, Asar, Maghrib, Isyak). Before dawn, want to eat Sahur and then pray. At Maghrib, want to eat to break the fast/ berbuka puasa (usually say "buka" for short). Also in this month before Aidifilti, the family will prepare by cleaning the house for visitors, buy new baju kurung, get kuih, etc etc.

aaaa there are a lot of kuih, here's anything I can name (many are from Singapore); kuih lapis, kuih salat? ondeh ondeh, kuih bahulu, kuih dadar, BISKUT CORNFLAKES OMG does that count?. there are many more lol.

ALSO! In Singapore, during Ramadan, there is a huge Night Market in Geylang. Not only in Geylang there is a night market but this is very popular. There are MANY stalls selling food. Everyone who buys from geylang night market knows Ramly Burger, deep-fried Oreos, vadai, KEBAB, DENGDENG. (I like to buy rolled ice cream and chicken kebab mmmm)

In Geylang too, they will buy traditional clothes to visit family. Baju kurung (ehh for traditional clothes, women wear baju kurung, men wear baju melayu but the names are the same anyway) is the normal clothing. Often, one household will choose to coordinate colors together (but it's not mandatory, lmao my family doesn't care)

For men, they wear songkok (that flat black hat) and samping (the long scarf wrapping around the waist)

For women, wear a sarong (skirt) with a long top. If desired, will also wear a tudung (type of hijab) (i should also clarify for muslim women its their choice whether they want to habitually wear hijab. its not just specific to just baju kurung. for example i have lots of aunties that dont wear hijab at all meanwhile i have a lot of aunts who do)

Baju kurung is also worn at other festivities, such as weddings

(my whole childhood I attended so many weddings, this is another topic lmaooooo)

On Hari Raya Aidifilti but before going to raya (this is what we generally call going out to see family), close family in will ask for forgiveness. (it's important the forgiveness is not one-sided, the adults will also ask forgiveness from the younger family members too). Usually this is when people start crying. After that, we go RAYA!!! When in someone else's house, if you are not working now, you can get duit raya! (because I grew up in singapore surrounded by chinese influence, I also call this "angpao" too)

OHHHH THERE IS A LOT OF FOOD;;;; My grandmother would cook a lot during Ramadan and Hari Raya. Rendang, lontong, KETUPAT OHHH KETUPAT, CHICKEN CURRY (my mother every aidifitri cooks green chicken curry, FOR HARI RAYA AIDIFITRI ONLY, ohhhhh that's my favorite part, ASBFKASB I'M HUNGRY.)

(theres also like way more cuisine than this, iu havent even mentioned nasi goreng and nasi lemak and briyani and FUCKIGN BEGEDIL;;;;)

ketupat is kind of icon to represent Aidifilti holiday, for example:

other icons of hari raya include: bunga api, neon string lights, bamboo torches, etc.

I love Hari Raya even thoug my feet hurt ALOT after visiting LOTS OF FAMILY AND FRIENDS OH MY GOD:;; it's okay if you take your shoes off in the house somehow your FEET WILL HURT at the end of the day;;;;;;

uhhhh others about malay culture? we have art! A martial art is silat melayu! I don't know much about this but it's great

there is performance art: one example is dikir barat

youtube

juga ada permainan, ada yang terkenal ialah wau (kite)

and congkak (like that one club penguin game, mancala, im not kidding)

there are many malay cultures that are also from indonesian culture because of its influence. (Mainly malay culture was influenced by its neighboring cultures such as from Thailand, Sumatra, Java. Malay culture were from Hinduism before then converting to Islam) That's why we have wayang kulit (natively from Java) (a lot of indonesian culture and malay cultures share similar things because of kinda their similar roots and their spread of their own culture, hence why we also have similar dishes, traditonal clothes, even our language is kinda 70% the same)

Do you know; Singapore was discovered by Sang Nila Utama and was originally Malay kingdom (at that time the island was called Temasek before it was owned by the British) (the original indigenous of Singapore are called Orang Laut, litterally translated to "people of the sea"). That is why in Singapore, the language and the national anthem (Majulah Singapura) is in Malay. Singapore is not only for Chinese people, we Malays and Indians are also here;;;

(and im not at all from malaysia god please none of my relatives are. Malaysian is referring to the country, Malay is the language and the ethnic group)

There's a whole lot more I haven't even touched on, like lmao there's a whole thing about weddings and a whole baby shower thing.

theres also a lot of singaporean stuff i want to share i haven't even mentioned singlish but thats a post for another time

#txt post #language day #bahasa melayu #malay #Youtube

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kulay-ng-banaag · 5 months

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In the spirit of releasing all emotional debts on New Year's Eve, I’m going to open up about my frustrations regarding Desa aka dinosaurusgede aka the creator of Maaf.

For context, she made a Twitter account around the time that Himaruya properly introduced the newly canonized cast of SEA nations (Philippines, Indonesia, Singapore, and Malaysia). Like many other fans, she rode the nostalgia wave in creating content of them. By this point in time, Maaf was more or less a “finished” story to her — whatever Hetalia/SEAtalia content she published from that point onward was not as a continuation of, nor even as a reboot, of Maaf (although she did mention entertaining that idea). For the most part, the newer works she uploaded on Twitter were independent stories and were not necessarily linked to one other either.

Regrettably, I cannot present the problematic page/s for a more thorough and guided scrutiny because she deleted her Twitter account. Unless someone out there saved them, and frankly I wouldn't know who did nor would care to find out, everything was lost to the void. I’m literally working on what was imprinted in my memory by spite, so I apologize if I misremember details.

This will include discussion of anti-indigenous racism and other issues pertaining to colonialism.

She had an IndoPhil story titled Trust Me? and it was inspired by a fanmade BruPhil AMV wherein Indonesia was manipulating Philippines into believing that he was married to Indonesia and not Brunei. Trust Me? kept that concept of a manipulative Indonesia; the key difference being that Indonesia’s motivation for it (in Desa’s story) was the mix of hurt over Philippines “losing his precolonial memories” — based on popularized misconceptions of early Philippine history — of and how that was “aggravated” by his Westernization™, made worse under the United States (350+ years in the convent getting ratio'd by 50 years in Hollywood is hilarious ngl).

That was a lot to unpack, but before we even get there:

Indonesia and Philippines were having a tender moment when HWS America (as in the Hetalia personification that is Alfred F. Jones) walks in calling out "MY LITTLE BROWN BROTHER!"

Indonesia entered his Joker arc because he recalled how HWS America dumped the Philippines in a human zoo at the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair. There was an explicit panel of Philippines in Igorot* dress and a painfully forlorn bearing.

What "triggered" Indonesia was when, after the flashback, Piri goes up to Indonesia and asks him if he's a Bolshevist 🥺 (the idea was PH being brainwashed by Red Scare propaganda). Cue kabedon moment from Indonesia, and basically a yandere walk down "memory lane."

I did not have it in me to finish reading that comic...

*Igorot is an outdated umbrella term for the upland indigenous peoples of Northern Luzon

Aside from the clearly intended shock value of that depiction, I was taken aback by the painful lack of objectivity on her part when it came to the reading of history. To be fair on Desa, she never specialized in history studies, so it was only courteous that we could not expect her to have as developed of a critical reading as trained academics of history. Unfortunately, that was precisely why I disagreed with the popular notion of Desa as both a great researcher and a great storyteller of her research — all the more when Maaf was just the mangafication of certain Wikipedia articles.

To be fair as well on Wikipedia, it was, at best, a satisfactory jumpstart into more in-depth reading, and we could give it the benefit of the doubt that revisions had since been made to at least some of the articles that Desa relied on while making Maaf (more than 10 years is more than enough time for change). Nevertheless, the articles themselves did not teach users how to scrutinize the sources — most especially the biases of the sources’ author/s — utilized in building up the information.

That mattered because much of the retrospect narratives about the St. Louis Fair had a tendency of raising awareness through the newspaper articles that covered the exhibition at the time. These chronicled the impressions of the visiting authors, who likely (and I say likely because we would have to more exhaustively discern their personal politics one by one) were biased in favor of the “benevolent assimilation” of the Philippines — and the sights that they beheld only validated it further. They did not, however, explain why these Philippine indigenous peoples were brought in in the first place — information that could have further cemented Desa's reputation had she truly spent the efforts, even while understandably juggling other commitments as we all do. Instead, she only perpetuated the habit of sacrificing the veracity of equally important, finer details to the bigger picture in order to sensationalize righteous fury against colonialism.

The 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair was also formally known as the Louisiana Purchase Exposition, giving away its purpose as a commemoration. More appropriately, it was the centennial anniversary (technically delayed by a year though) of the acquisition of French Louisiana, expanding the territorial bounds of the United States. Additionally, the point of a world’s fair was to showcase the achievements of a nation, and one could also think of it as the sale of a fever dream — what more for a fast-growing, fledgling power the likes of the United States, itself a former colony? On another note, the St. Louis World’s Fair was not the only one of its kind so no, the US is not that original lmao.

One could thus see how the inclusion of a dedicated exhibit to the newly acquired colony that was the Philippines neatly fit into the themes of a world's fair centralized on the US. It was all the more a paramount topic of debate, with prominent Americans the likes of Mark Twain (here are selected excerpts, but I highly recommend reading the entirety of his To the Person Sitting in the Darkness) publishing anti-US imperialism opinions, even after the endgame of the Philippine-American War essentially favored the pro-imperialists. While dissent from the American side at the time remains poorly studied AND THAT'S ON OVERRULE BY BIAS, we at least have a glimpse, if mostly obscure still, of its existence.

If we can assume that it must have indeed been a prominent discourse in America, loud enough to get the White House furrowing its brows, then it's plausible to understand how it was of utmost importance that the the Philippine exhibit was to be carefully — because, in a way, America had to sell itself as the "lesser evil" vs notable "rivals" — curated while still ultimately corroborating assimilation of the Philippines. Thus, enter Truman Hunt, the man who oversaw "the Igorot Village" of the St. Louis Fair, having won the hearts of the native Igorots for a powerful reason:

Section from Claire Prentice, The Lost Tribe of Coney Island: Headhunters, Luna Park, and the Man Who Pulled Off the Spectacle of the Century, New York, NY: Amazon Publishing, 2014.

While the cholera epidemic that occurred at the onset of the American Colonial Period was arguably the worst in the history of cholera epidemic management in the Philippines, I want to make it very, very clear that it was not the first and only wave that hit the archipelago. There had been a handful in the prior century alone — all of such magnitudes that it embedded a deep collective trauma; farmers refused to harvest their crops for fear of infection, tragically enabling famines and contributing starvation & nutrition deficiencies on top of a viral & swift killer (the experience of severe, rapid dehydration is such that one can fall dead within hours of infection).

Given such an imaginably harrowing experience (and it was an awfully painful topic to study as someone who got infected with and survived COVID-19 and has family working as frontliners), how could the natives turn away a stranger with such miraculous powers? Who knows how they comprehended it (e.g. a benevolent sign from heaven they must accept) because, unfortunately, we have yet to discuss preserved accounts on that matter, if any at all.

What is known, however, is that there were Igorots who were not just enamored by the "opportunity of a lifetime," but the selected lucky candidates clearly expressed their consent to participate:

More sections from Prentice, The Lost Tribe of Coney Island.

I will quickly add that, unfortunately, a few members of the Igorot delegation died from illness in making the trip, and Hunt aged like milk over the years (fell into the trap of capitalism in pushing for more subsequent exhibit trips, to the point that less care was extended to the Igorots and he was ultimately arrested for embezzlement). Given that our scope remains to be the 1904 St. Louis Fair, any signs of abuse inflicted upon the Igorots during their stay based on preserved photographs is simply not clear. To assume that they were in a pitiable state would be to enforce a presentist reading that might betray not just their memories & experiences but also their right to self-determination.

EDIT (01/02/24): A good example to demonstrate what I mean in analyzing photographs, here's an article on the author's personal, genealogical research into the Igorots — specifically, the Suyoc — who were at the St. Louis Fair.

It truly is ironic that a Filipino is making these points as if to defend the United States as a whole (no I am not, and if you think I do, lumayas ka). I agree that white people gawking over the peoples of the Philippines with such fascination that borders fetishism warrants all the eye-rolls. At the same time — and it is even more ironic that I am pointing this out as a lowland, Christianized Tagalog based in the metro (not just any urbanized part of the country) — there is a character of patronizing these indigenous communities in the unspoken assumption that their participation is the fault of their ignorance. Pay attention, once more, to the demographics that constituted the Philippine exhibit in the 1904 St. Louis Fair — what kind of "Filipinos" were included and who were left out? There were also Negritos*, Visayans, and Muslims from Mindanao (historically referred to as Moros) in the same event, yet we hardly hear about their experiences. Perhaps it might have to do with how they were considered "more civilized" than these upland groups.

*OUTDATED term (and please blame the Spanish for it); these are the Aeta.

I understand Desa's reservations against US imperialism and sympathies for communities marginalized by Western colonization. I just hope that I was able to clarify as best as I could why I was so taken aback in how she depicted the Hetalia personification of my country the way she did. I agree that, as far as I ever got to interact with her, she is generally very polite and kind. That's why I gave her the benefit of the doubt when she approached me in DM to apologize for how her narrative choice was offensive. As someone who despised red tape in academia, I tried to talk to her about how there were valid reasons as to why the American Colonial Period was considered a mixed blessing, even by PH historians.

Instead, she pulled a complete 180.

She said that — to a Filipino who condemned imperialism (no matter who started it), who also happened to study history as a profession, and was also a Hetalia fan who wants to explore Hetalia narratives differently from what was popularized. Half of the reason was because some fandom takes left a bad taste, like eating a dish with ingredients that even Gordon Ramsay would tell you shouldn’t go together; the other half was because I saw things differently and wanted to express it because why not?

I want to say it's not necessary to bring up something from a private conversation, but I will anyway to reiterate that my issue is not that she isn't nice. Bluntly, however, the way she said those words so formally did creep me out, but ultimately, my issue lies in how her biases have led her into making off-putting takes from time to time. I will not say more, but Trust Me? was not the only Twitter comic by Desa that got bombastic side-eyes.

And if only because Sukarno got dragged in, I felt compelled to briefly debunk that as well: even he initially viewed the United States in a very positive light: “The United States occupies a very distinguished part, a very distinguished place, in the hearts of the Indonesian people.” That was uttered in 1961, and it took a very specific historical context to instigate a complete shift by 1964:

Sections from Vincent Bevins, The Jakarta Method: Washington’s Anticommunist Crusade & the Mass Murder Program that Shaped Our World, New York: PublicAffairs, 2021, 121-123.

EDIT (01/02/24): Note that Desa was citing Sukarno's later sentiments in the late 1960s as her reason for characterizing Indonesia as such in her comic. However, the setting of the story was the late 1920s (Indonesia's visit was based on Tan Malaka's abscondence to the Philippines). I'd dare say the anachronism was not due to oversight but a deliberate choice in using a certain fictional character — namely HWS Indonesia — as propaganda for Desa's anti-Americanism.

It's definitely depressing to think about all the "lost" history & culture that thrived before the arrival of white colonizers. It's why I'm surprised that, for a fiction work, she didn't project all that anger onto Spain instead — it had to specifically be the United States. Was it because they basically cockblocked Philippine independence, even though Spain practically sold the Philippines to the US? The implication that Spain should be permitted to wash its hands clean of all accountability was an awkward message to convey.

I understand that nothing could be 100% accurate (I'm actually quoting Desa defending herself on that matter) in fiction, but the level of projection coming from a certain non-Filipino reading Philippine history was so silly. And again, how did it all justify the explicit depiction of HWS Philippines as an indigenous man in a human zoo? (END OF EDIT)

As my professors will also never tire of saying: you can disagree with a historian’s interpretations but you can never disagree with the evidence in themselves. You don’t have to morally agree either, and I can guarantee you that many Filipinos do not. I, myself, resented the endgame of the particular war that brought that period about in the first place. How dare, then, she said it was “not her place” to defend US imperialism, while granting herself the freedom to express her country’s feelings on the matter?

Oh, it’s all just fiction? I do not condone the subsequent treatment she received, but why then couldn’t she stop trying to “educate” NLID shippers? I do not know how both sides talked to one another, only that what caught me eye was: Why does everyone else have to respect her fiction while she gets to disrespect others’ fictions for not aligning with hers?

EDIT (01/20/24): Just to clarify further on that point — over a decade ago, she went ham in the comment section of someone's (APH) America x (fem!OC) Indonesia. That ship is not in my lore either simply because I follow a totally different route. To cut to the chase, she took that fanart very personally and infodumped on US war crimes that involved Indonesia.

I know Tan Malaka started the whole North Indonesia agenda, but come on, neither was it Desa's place to just treat HWS Philippines the way she did. An Indonesian schooling other Indonesians on ID history is not surprising, but an Indonesian schooling a Filipino on PH history? I'd be humbled if they had the credentials. She didn't and, unless she enrolled herself in a graduate program, she still doesn't.

By all technicalities, she can’t ship IDPH because the Philippine government was (unfortunately and grossly) complicit in the chain of events that led to the 1965-66 genocides in Indonesia. Yet, she does despite of that fact. We thus circle back to Trust Me? and how that was a manifestation of her stubborn refusal to acknowledge any nuances by projecting HWS Indonesia as a self-proclaimed savior of HWS Philippines from the beguile of US neocolonialism.

I empathize with her anger. I'm sorry that the US government by extent enabled what her family went through. I agree that it's not her place to defend them; in fact, she shouldn't. But when even the so-called "highest of Malay nations*" is worth her neutrality, how can she expect me to forgive her?

*That is literally what the Philippines is to her; I know this because she explicitly said so to me in DM. DO NOT ASK FOR RECEIPTS, I am not comfortable revealing that particular conversation.

I cannot — in fact, NO ONE SHOULD — afford to be neutral about Duterte or Marcos, etc., and for her to be so flippant about her privilege (by way of ethnicity/citizenship/cultural upbringing) to be neutral** about Philippine politics, while simultaneously NAGGING ON EVERYBODY TO RESPECT INDONESIAN POLITICS, is annoying at best and plain selfish at worst.

**Also explicitly said to me in DM. Again, DO NOT ASK FOR RECEIPTS.

(END OF EDIT)

I’m not Indonesian but I do not have it in me to politely accuse a native Indonesian of allowing their personal biases to misread their own history. As a Filipino, however, while I'm not surprised by the reductionist chronicling of the histories & cultures of the Philippines, I am at a loss for words over the continuing idolization for Desa & Maaf, when she was not the best and most reliable narrator, especially given her negligence in representing indigenous peoples through her comics.

I mean, guys, I'm not saying this as if the Trust Me? comic was the first and only instance when this was literally Maaf canon that sat comfortably in the internet for over a decade, and continues to be appraised as THE BIBLE OF HISTORICAL HETALIA.

EDIT (01/20/24 — originally added via a reblog): I cannot believe this needs to be said because this is the consequence of when Hetalia fans take their fiction too literally because creators have made careless takes.

There were SEAtalians joking about how the Yolngu are a dead people.

I repeat.

THERE WERE SEATALIANS JOKING ABOUT HOW THE YOLNGU ARE A DEAD PEOPLE.

(END OF EDIT)

So as 2023 comes to a close we enter 2024, I'd like to conclude this post with the following points:

At best, Wikipedia is a satisfactory jumping point, but please believe me when I say no historian will respect you for (over-)relying on Wikipedia. And given that anyone with a decent device & internet signal can access Wikipedia, Desa is just not a GOAT in historical research.

At worst, idolizing Maaf patronizes the work of historians. It doesn't help that PH historians have been targets of harassment because of dis-/misinformation campaigns. I bring this up because it's already bad enough to have to confront that reality outside of fandom spaces on a regular basis in standing our ground for more just historical truths. I hope that folks understand why that's a particularly sensitive struggle for me, and why receiving such comments like the one I shared above deeply hurt. She was not apologetic about that — and every time she would post about apologizing for the moments she has offended others, or when others compliment her for being so open-minded, I cannot help but feel bitter.

Other BIPOC — yes, not just other SEAsians and that's on literally drawing nations other than SEA — have spoken up on the matter. If you can talk about how you learned so much from Desa, you can also learn as much from other perspectives. I hope that in raising all of this, more SEAtalians understand that we risk othering non-SEA BIPOC.

The idolization of Maaf (and the creator in question) is personally far more off-putting than the problematic points of Maaf or any comic she has ever made, because I think she caved to peer pressure instead of learning to wield her fiction more sensitively without being too reliant of the opinions of those she has pleased. Not even Hidekaz Himaruya writes his nationverse characters like that — the one time I’ll admit that canon trumps fanon.

I’m not stopping people from liking Maaf or Desa anyway. I just cannot help but take issue with how the SEAtalia fandom feels less of a safe & inclusive community than it is a cult centered on one person — almost as if her fiction is unquestionable canon and anyone who disagrees gets the boot. Once again, I do not condone the subsequent treatment she received in retaliation, but frankly that's just not what I'm addressing here.

I'm also not saying it's wrong to give words of reassurance and validation to people you admire, only that some of you need to understand you're forcing a parasocial relationship with your idols. It may feel good to you, but please be mindful of the unwarranted pressure it imposes.

I apologize for dumping all of this at literally the end of the year. I want to let it all go in a manner that is clear, concise, and not overwhelming to digest. I do hope that my candid thoughts will push the fandom one step forward in critically consuming media without having to resort to crab-mentality tendencies — because it's been especially hard seeing the demeaning takes made about the Philippines in this fandom.

#hetalia #historical hetalia #hetalia critical #racism cw #hws philippines #aph philippines #hws indonesia #aph indonesia #hws america #aph america #mentions of death cw #sibuyas

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simazinblr · 3 months

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Wait

On Campus

[Malaysia Narrating]

Weeks have passed since the spring semester started, and I haven't seen Maurice at all. He hasn't been in the dining hall, study hall, or anywhere else. I knew he was purposely avoiding me once I found out he transferred from the classes we had together.

Malaysia: Maurice, wait! I've been trying to reach you for weeks. Where have you been? Maurice: I've been busy. What do you want? Malaysia: Why the hostility? I just tryna to talk to you. I wanted to see if you were okay and apologize again for what happened with Andrei. He had no right to do that to you. He's just...he's just... Maurice: He's just what? You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m not willing to risk my safety or anything for whatever this was between us. I really liked you, Malaysia but it’s obvious you weren’t being completely honest with me. Malaysia: No, no, I just... I just. I’m sorry. Everything got complicated so fast…I didn’t wanna hurt anybody's feelings. Maurice: Here I am thinking I finally got a shot at the girl of my dreams only to learn I was a placeholder. Malaysia: Maurice, please. Don't say that. You know I care about you. You know I like you. Maurice: But not enough to choose me over him, right? Malaysia: I’m sorry. Maurice: *nodding* Bye, Malaysia.

Malaysia didn't have much to say. She knew he was hurt and felt awful. If she had ended it months ago before feelings got too involved, maybe it would have been better. Although she was a little relieved that she no longer had to worry about who to date or keep secrets, she was still a little stressed out.

#The Richards Legacy #Malaysia #ts4 story #black simblr #black sims #simblr #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ea #ts4 #sims 4 legacy #simblog #ts4 legacy #video games #ts4 gameplay #simmer #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #maxis

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hedwig-dordt · 9 months

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The Ig Nobel Prize, for scientific research that makes people laugh and then makes them think. This year's winners!

CHEMISTRY and GEOLOGY PRIZE [POLAND, UK] Jan Zalasiewicz, for explaining why many scientists like to lick rocks. REFERENCE: “Eating Fossils,” Jan Zalasiewicz, The Paleontological Association Newsletter, no. 96, November 2017. Eating fossils | The Palaeontological Association (palass.org) WHO TOOK PART IN THE CEREMONY: Jan Zalasiewicz

LITERATURE PRIZE [FRANCE, UK, MALAYSIA, FINLAND] Chris Moulin, Nicole Bell, Merita Turunen, Arina Baharin, and Akira O’Connor for studying the sensations people feel when they repeat a single word many, many, many, many, many, many, many times. REFERENCE: “The The The The Induction of Jamais Vu in the Laboratory: Word Alienation and Semantic Satiation,” Chris J. A. Moulin, Nicole Bell, Merita Turunen, Arina Baharin, and Akira R. O’Connor, Memory, vol. 29, no. 7, 2021, pp. 933-942. doi.org/10.1080/09658211.2020.1727519 WHO TOOK PART IN THE CEREMONY: Chris Moulin, Akira O’Connor

MECHANICAL ENGINEERING PRIZE [INDIA, CHINA, MALAYSIA, USA] Te Faye Yap, Zhen Liu, Anoop Rajappan, Trevor Shimokusu, and Daniel Preston, for re-animating dead spiders to use as mechanical gripping tools. REFERENCE: “Necrobotics: Biotic Materials as Ready-to-Use Actuators,” Te Faye Yap, Zhen Liu, Anoop Rajappan, Trevor J. Shimokusu, and Daniel J. Preston, Advanced Science, vol. 9, no. 29, 2022, article 2201174. doi.org/10.1002/advs.202201174 WHO TOOK PART IN THE CEREMONY: Te Faye Yap and Daniel Preston

PUBLIC HEALTH PRIZE [SOUTH KOREA, USA] Seung-min Park, for inventing the Stanford Toilet, a device that uses a variety of technologies — including a urinalysis dipstick test strip, a computer vision system for defecation analysis, an anal-print sensor paired with an identification camera, and a telecommunications link — to monitor and quickly analyze the substances that humans excrete. REFERENCE: “A Mountable Toilet System for Personalized Health Monitoring via the Analysis of Excreta,” Seung-min Park, Daeyoun D. Won, Brian J. Lee, Diego Escobedo, Andre Esteva, Amin Aalipour, T. Jessie Ge, et al., Nature Biomedical Engineering, vol. 4, no. 6, 2020, pp. 624-635. doi.org/10.1038/s41551-020-0534-9 REFERENCE: “Digital Biomarkers in Human Excreta,” Seung-min Park, T. Jessie Ge, Daeyoun D. Won, Jong Kyun Lee, and Joseph C. Liao, Nature Reviews Gastroenterology and Hepatology, vol. 18, no. 8, 2021, pp. 521-522. doi.org/10.1038/s41575-021-00462-0 REFERENCE: “Smart Toilets for Monitoring COVID-19 Surges: Passive Diagnostics and Public Health,” T. Jessie Ge, Carmel T. Chan, Brian J. Lee, Joseph C. Liao, and Seung-min Park, NPJ Digital Medicine, vol. 5, no. 1, 2022, article 39. doi.org/10.1038/s41746-022-00582-0 REFERENCE: “Passive Monitoring by Smart Toilets for Precision Health,” T. Jessie Ge, Vasiliki Nataly Rahimzadeh, Kevin Mintz, Walter G. Park, Nicole Martinez-Martin, Joseph C. Liao, and Seung-min Park, Science Translational Medicine, vol. 15, no. 681, 2023, article eabk3489. doi.org/10.1126/scitranslmed.abk3489 WHO TOOK PART IN THE CEREMONY: Seung-min Park

COMMUNICATION PRIZE [ARGENTINA, SPAIN, COLOMBIA, CHILE, CHINA, USA] María José Torres-Prioris, Diana López-Barroso, Estela Càmara, Sol Fittipaldi, Lucas Sedeño, Agustín Ibáñez, Marcelo Berthier, and Adolfo García, for studying the mental activities of people who are expert at speaking backward. REFERENCE: “Neurocognitive Signatures of Phonemic Sequencing in Expert Backward Speakers,” María José Torres-Prioris, Diana López-Barroso, Estela Càmara, Sol Fittipaldi, Lucas Sedeño, Agustín Ibáñez, Marcelo L. Berthier, and Adolfo M. García, Scientific Reports, vol. 10, no. 10621, 2020. doi.org/10.1038/s41598-020-67551-z WHO TOOK PART IN THE CEREMONY: María José Torres-Prioris, Adolfo García

MEDICINE PRIZE [USA, CANADA, MACEDONIA, IRAN, VIETNAM] Christine Pham, Bobak Hedayati, Kiana Hashemi, Ella Csuka, Tiana Mamaghani, Margit Juhasz, Jamie Wikenheiser, and Natasha Mesinkovska, for using cadavers to explore whether there is an equal number of hairs in each of a person’s two nostrils. REFERENCE: “The Quantification and Measurement of Nasal Hairs in a Cadaveric Population,” Christine Pham, Bobak Hedayati, Kiana Hashemi, Ella Csuka, Margit Juhasz, and Natasha Atanaskova Mesinkovska, Journal of The American Academy of Dermatology, vol. 83, no. 6, 2020, pp. AB202-AB202. doi.org/10.1016/j.jaad.2020.06.902 WHO TOOK PART IN THE CEREMONY: Christine Pham, Natasha Mesinkovska, Margit Juhasz, Kiana Hashemi, Tiana Mamaghani

NUTRITION PRIZE [JAPAN] Homei Miyashita and Hiromi Nakamura, for experiments to determine how electrified chopsticks and drinking straws can change the taste of food. REFERENCE: “Augmented Gustation Using Electricity,” Hiromi Nakamura and Homei Miyashita, Proceedings of the 2nd Augmented Human International Conference, March 2011, article 34. doi.org/10.1145/1959826.1959860 WHO TOOK PART IN THE CEREMONY: Homei Miyashita, Hiromi Nakamura

EDUCATION PRIZE [CHINA, CANADA, UK, THE NETHERLANDS, IRELAND, USA, JAPAN] Katy Tam, Cyanea Poon, Victoria Hui, Wijnand van Tilburg, Christy Wong, Vivian Kwong, Gigi Yuen, and Christian Chan, for methodically studying the boredom of teachers and students. REFERENCE: “Boredom Begets Boredom: An Experience Sampling Study on the Impact of Teacher Boredom on Student Boredom and Motivation,” Katy Y.Y. Tam, Cyanea Y. S. Poon, Victoria K.Y. Hui, Christy Y. F. Wong, Vivian W.Y. Kwong, Gigi W.C. Yuen, Christian S. Chan, British Journal of Educational Psychology, vol. 90, no. S1, June 2020, pp. 124-137. doi.org/10.1111/bjep.12549 REFERENCE: “Whatever Will Bore, Will Bore: The Mere Anticipation of Boredom Exacerbates its Occurrence in Lectures,” Katy Y.Y. Tam, Wijnand A.P. Van Tilburg, Christian S. Chan, British Journal of Educational Psychology, epub 2022. doi.org/10.1111/bjep.12549 WHO TOOK PART IN THE CEREMONY: Christian Chan, Katy Y.Y. Tam, Wijnand A.P. Van Tilburg

PSYCHOLOGY PRIZE [USA] Stanley Milgram, Leonard Bickman, and Lawrence Berkowitz for experiments on a city street to see how many passersby stop to look upward when they see strangers looking upward REFERENCE: “Note on the Drawing Power of Crowds of Different Size,” Stanley Milgram, Leonard Bickman, and Lawrence Berkowitz, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, vol. 13, no. 2, 1969, pp. 79-82. psycnet.apa.org/doi/10.1037/h0028070 WHO TOOK PART IN THE CEREMONY: Len Bickman

PHYSICS PRIZE [SPAIN, GALICIA, SWITZERLAND, FRANCE, UK] Bieito Fernández Castro, Marian Peña, Enrique Nogueira, Miguel Gilcoto, Esperanza Broullón, Antonio Comesaña, Damien Bouffard, Alberto C. Naveira Garabato, and Beatriz Mouriño-Carballido, for measuring the extent to which ocean-water mixing is affected by the sexual activity of anchovies. REFERENCE: “Intense Upper Ocean Mixing Due to Large Aggregations of Spawning Fish,” Bieito Fernández Castro, Marian Peña, Enrique Nogueira, Miguel Gilcoto, Esperanza Broullón, Antonio Comesaña, Damien Bouffard, Alberto C. Naveira Garabato, and Beatriz Mouriño-Carballido, Nature Geoscience, vol. 15, 2022, pp. 287–292. doi.org/10.1038/s41561-022-00916-3 WHO TOOK PART IN THE CEREMONY: Bieito Fernandez Castro, Beatriz Mouriño-Carballido, Alberto Naveira Garabato, Esperanza Broullon, Miguel Gil Coto

#science #ig nobel prize winners #ig nobel prize

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totowlff · 2 years

Text

chapter two — anger

➝ you left toto’s office heartbroken. but, unknowingly, left a broken heart inside those glass walls.

➝ word count: 1,5k

➝ warnings: christian horner (again), some more angst

➝ author’s note: i had no idea that this one shot would have so many sequel requests! you don't know how happy it makes me to know that you like what i write. Of course it's a process and I'm trying to improve every bit. i hope you like this sequel and want more.

Toto had lost track of the time he stood in his office, in absolute silence. His eyes were glued to the resignation letter. The black letters against the cream paper looked more and more empty with each reading. The scrawl at the bottom of the page, less and less familiar.

In his mind, a phrase was repeated over and over, as if it were being played on a scratched record.

“I was spying on the team”.

Alison sat in his office, going over his schedule for the day.

— And this morning, you have a meeting scheduled with the new chief aerodynamicist.

Toto looked up from the iPad.

— Y/N, right?

— That’s right. At 9:00.

He pushed his square-framed glasses back up to the top of his nose.

— Let me know when she arrives. I want to be downstairs to greet her, personally.

Dropping the paper on the pale wood table and turning to face the surface, Toto felt his jaw clench, and felt the blood boiling in his veins. He had never felt as angry as he was at that moment.

Not even in his worst moments.

Not even when all seemed lost.

“How could she do this to me?”, he asked himself.

Right at 9:00, his office phone rang.

— Miss Y/N is here — Alison said.

— I’m coming — Toto replied, rising from his navy blue office chair and walking toward the elevator, pressing the down button. The silver doors opened and he stepped inside. When the doors slid open again, Toto stepped out, stopping when he saw a woman crouching in front of the W11 that was on display in the lobby.

Y/N.

He watched her for a few seconds, noticing that she was studying the car carefully. She hadn’t even heard him coming.

— A work of art, isn’t it? — Toto smiled, making her turn around.

A bang echoed through the empty office.

Then another. And another one. And one more.

Then silence.

Toto was breathing heavily, his fist clenched against the table. His hand hurt, but he couldn’t care less. So many times he had punched tables, taking out his frustration with some problem that had occurred during the race. However, not even that helped to discharge that anger accumulating in his chest.

“Images, videos, numbers, simulations, settings”, he recalled the words Y/N had said minutes before.

— Why? — he muttered.

After the third meeting via videoconference, the only thing Toto needed was a strong cup of coffee to get through that late night marathon with people halfway around the world.

— Those fucking time zones — he mumbled to himself, walking slowly down the hall toward the cafeteria. However, Toto stopped when he realized that there was an office with the light on. Upon reaching the door, he saw Y/N sitting in front of her computer, nodding in time to the music that was playing through her headphones.

Watching her for a few seconds, Toto couldn’t help but smile. He moved closer and touched her shoulder. She jumped out of her chair, the headphones slipping from her head.

— Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you — he said with a smirk.

— It was nothing — she stammered.

— What are you still doing here?

She hesitated for a few seconds.

— I was organizing the data we collected today. And you?

— Meeting with Petronas executives. They are in Malaysia so…

— Oh yeah. Time zones, right?

Toto nodded. “Should I ask her...?”, he thought.

— I was going down to get some coffee — he said, running a hand through his hair — Would you like to come with me?

Throwing himself into the navy blue chair, Toto ran a hand over his forehead. He hadn’t realized how much his head hurt until then.

It was too much to digest.

Too much anger.

Too much disappointment.

Too much guilt.

It felt like Toto had known Y/N forever.

She was smart, funny… A breath of fresh air.

And he hadn’t realized he was desperate to breathe in fresh air until then.

Stopping the 300 SL Gullwing in front of her building, he turned the car's ignition off. Then, he turned to face Y/N, who was looking at him curiously.

— Well, you’re home.

She smiled shyly.

— Thank you so much for the evening. It was amazing.

— It was — he said softly. Toto had never wanted to kiss a person as much as he did right then. But he didn’t dare move, lest he startle her. After all, he was still her boss. However, as if reading his mind, Y/N placed her hand on his face and their lips touched, the taste of red wine invading his mouth.

— Sei la donna più bella che abbia mai incontrato — he whispered in Italian, tucking a strand of her soft hair behind her ear.

Lost in his own thoughts, Toto snapped back to reality when his cell phone vibrated against the top of his desk, the screen lighting up with a notification. He picked up the phone and regretted it almost immediately when he saw Y/N in the background, smiling brightly.

Unlocking the phone, Toto opened his camera roll almost unconsciously, where there were many more images of the two of them, and especially of her. Tapping one of the photos, the thumbnail zoomed in, showing Y/N lying between the white sheets of his bed, a sleepy smile behind her messy hair.

He remembered that day clearly.

It was the day he’d told her he loved her.

Y/N turned to face him, her expression confused by what Toto had just said.

— You what?

— I love you, Y/N — he repeated slowly.

She blinked a few times, absorbing the words. Toto noticed that there were tears in the corners of her eyes. That sight made his heart feel heavy. “I shouldn’t have said that”, he thought, bringing his thumb to her face and wiping a tear that fell towards her temple.

— You don’t have to say it back — Toto said softly, his finger caressing her skin. He couldn’t deny how much he wanted to hear that the intense, uncontrollable feeling he had for her was mutual.

— But I want to say it back — Y/N said— I’m crying because I’ve wanted to tell you that for a long time.

— So say it — he whispered, bringing his face close to hers.

— I love you too, Toto.

Swiping to the right, the next image showed Y/N sitting in his seat in the Mercedes garage at Silverstone, his silver headphones tucked over her head, the same wide smile on her lips. However, that memory filled his mouth with a bitter taste.

“He asked me to collect as much information as possible about next year’s car,” he heard Y/N repeat in his head.

Christian.

This had all been Christian Horner’s idea. Each detail. Every step.

From the beginning he knew everything.

— That motherfucker — Toto snarled, slapping the top of his desk again.

Toto had just finished doing his interviews on the media pen when he felt someone tap his shoulder.

— Hello, Wolff — the familiar southern English accent made him prickle — How are you? Ready for the weekend?

— Fine, Christian. Yes, I’m ready. And you?

— Yes, all good here. I heard you even brought in people from the factory to help out during the race.

Toto didn’t need a second to understand what the Red Bull team principal was talking about.

— Yes, we brought in some people to analyze the data in situ.

— I thought aerodynamics were analyzed in the wind tunnel and not on the race track — Horner muttered, glancing around as if searching through the camera lens — Unless…

Toto took a step forward, getting closer to the Englishman.

— What are you implying? — the Austrian hissed.

— That you brought a special guest into your garage.

He felt the blood boil in his veins.

— It’s none of your business who I bring into my garage.

— Well, considering I know Y/N well — Horner said, tilting his head.

— You watch your mouth to talk about her — Toto raged.

Christian held up his hands defensively.

— Far be it from me to want to say anything about her. Y/N was a great employee at Red Bull. But if I were you, I’d be careful with her.

— What do you mean?

The Red Bull’s team principal grinned.

— Well… I know how lovely she can be.

Toto turned off the screen and dropped his phone on the top of his desk.

He’d already lived long enough to experience heartbreak and professional frustration. However, what Y/N had done to him had been by far the worst of them all. It had been more than mere betrayal. It had been a breach of all the trust he’d placed in her, both emotionally and professionally.

Robotically, Toto headed for the closet, opened the door, and took out his briefcase. He placed it on his lap and opened it, looking for something he’d been carrying with him for several months. He grasped a familiar texture, pulling out a small velvet box, letting the briefcase fall to the floor.

Hesitantly, Toto lifted the lid with his thumb. Inside, nestled in the satin, was a gold ring with a single diamond decorating the band. His mother’s engagement ring.

And it should have been Y/N’s.

— Why, Schatzi? — he whispered, looking at the ring.

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fic #wlffog #regwlff

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cult-of-the-eye · 2 months

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tell me about ur horror comics please

horror comics rant part 2 electric boogaloo:

thank you lovely people once again for asking me about the horror comics it is much appreciated and got me through my studying!!

so the second one i got way too obsessed with is called the guy upstairs!!

we open with a character who is joining my group of "all time faves, itches my brain" characters, a girl named rozy

(its set in malaysia)

she is an orphan, who grew up in an orphanage but is now in college and in her own apartment

it's not exactly the best apartment, she works a couple of cleaning jobs to afford it, but it'll do

she's got a friend named hawa, who is literally the sweetest

she's very popular, cause she's both nice and very very pretty and lots of people are like how are they friends

now for all you "get your dog under control" (they're talking about a human) fans, you are gonna go CRAZY

rozy is insanely protective over hawa, which seems to be a theme all throughout

basically, rozy doesn't really get ill, but when she does it gets real bad - nightmares, fevers etc etc

so one day when rozy accidentally walks into her upstairs neighbour's flat and witnesses him brutally murder a woman

she thinks that's just another nightmare or a product of the medicine her boss gave her to help with her headache

but she knows what she saw. and she refuses to trust him.

thus begins the most TENSE game of cat and mouse ever

rozy knows that adam (the neighbour) is a killer, but no one will believe her, she's been tagged as crazy before and will be again if she brings it up

and adam knows that rozy knows, but he also knows that he can't kill her, cause it'll be traced right back to him

so what does he do? tortures her emotionally

he starts to date hawa

a policeman looking for his sister (who fits adam's victims' MO) becomes friends with rozy, trying to give her advice on the situation (they have a sibling relationship by the end its really sweet)

together, they realise that what he does is date slim, fair skinned women with long brown wavy hair and then kill them

so hawa seems to be in grave danger

rozy does everything she can to try and break them up, without looking insane

(it doesn't work)

it gets to the point where adam proposes and hawa cuts off rozy for being too suspicious and clingy, while rozy thinks hawa is too easily trusting but can't say why

finally they talk again after a suspicion she had about a classmate turns out to be true

and hawa decides to help rozy find proof that adam is a serial killer

the reason why i'm so obsessed with this is because rozy is such a compelling character like honestly. she's smart, she's rude, she's highly independent, she's funny, intensely loyal and has massive abandonment issues. like girl is adamant that she is fine and ok and not traumatised and that her way is the best way to go about things, which it is in this case but not because she's right, she's just right in this extreme situation. i just love characters that seem reasonable but are one threat to their loved ones away from batshit insane.

#thank you for enabling me!!#answered asks #horror comics

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my-castles-crumbling · 13 days

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hi cas, it’s Swiftie anon!

My concert went okay, my cello section was off by a beat, and so were some a violins, and the violas went to fast. No one noticed tho, so it was fine.

I forgot to mention this in my last message but my sister’s band concert was like a barbecue kind of and all my friends were there, and it was nice to hang out with them out of school, bc it felt like I was, idk, breathing better, I feel lighter with them, safe ig. It was, really nice. It kind of made me remember what it was like to be young, careless, happy without worry.

second thing, I got my culinary teacher to sign my yearbook, which I’ve been trying to make myself do since I got my yearbook (Wednesday-ish, I think, Tuesday? Idk), before it was too long to be embarrassing. She’s one of my favorite teachers, with my 6th grade ela and social studies teacher, and my 5th grade teacher, probably my favorite since I like talked to her and stuff when I had her class last semester. so I went to her class during study hall, and it was really nice to see her. She was playing the eras tour movie bc someone bought movie in class but said she could pick. She smiled when she saw me, and called me a nickname for my actual name. She’s been doing it for awhile now, and usually I don’t like it, (for example I had a friend who was called Syd, she didn’t like the sound of it in general and people called her Sid the science kid) and like, my pe teacher calls me that bc 2 syllables is too long to say. But when she says it it doesn’t feel like she’s rushing through my name, idk, it makes me feel good. she signed my yearbook, and I asked about the movie, so she explained what was going on, and said I could stay, which I like really wanted to, but I left after. While she was signing my yearbook she was smiling, even tho I was standing there awkwardly thinking about what to say and when she put her hand on my shoulder (she put her hand on my head once, and I didn’t mind that either), and said something like, it was good to see you! I hope I’ll see you next year! And I nodded and said mm-hm, (and I really do want her class next year) bc I got nervous standing in a class that wasn’t mine, yk? I still haven’t gotten to my point yet, so when I got home, my mom put her hand on my shoulder, the same shoulder and it made me uncomfortable. Maybe it’s cause she gripped my shoulder tighter, and she was saying how she prayed that “I show people the garden inside instead of the weeds” and I kind of realized then that it’s like, not supposed to be like that. I should be ok with my mom, more comfortable with my mom touching me than one of my teachers.

and about the church thing, it is bad. Like, I grew up going to church (my mom and her side of the family are Christian) and I didn’t really believe in god then, it was just to make my mom happy. And I stopped going during Covid, and didn’t go back, bc I didn’t believe in anything in 6th grade, and I still say “God, you’re stupid,” like as a swear. And it always pisses me off when my mom says “it’s part of god’s plan” bc my life kind of sucks, and if god is real he’s an asshole. And like I have trouble believing in stuff bc my life still sucks, and so does the general stuff that’s happening, and if there’s like any godly entities, they’re all assholes.

About the crying thing, my dad has always hated when we cried, bc “it doesn’t do anything” that’s probably a him thing, since he’s a 50 year old Malaysian (gender roles are a lot more emphasized there), that grew up poor as shit. Like one time our family was in me and my sister’s room, and they just finished yelling at us and they all left except him, and then when all I wanted to do was cry myself to sleep, he told me to stop crying, which maybe he thought was comforting, but it was just, suffocating. He’s gotten better, I started crying bc I lost my pencil he gave me from Malaysia, and what’s worse was that my mom said “idk why she cries sm” and she’s always said it’s okay to cry, to my dad when I did when I was younger.

I can never message the hotline when I’m doing like, really bad bc usually my parents are yelling at us for being on our phones too much, and I can’t get on my phone without panicking about their reaction for the next day or so. I usually just put forever winter on loop and I get a bit better. oh and my brother’s graduation is tomorrow so I have to worry about my parents being transphobic to his friend, (I’m also stellar anon *dramatic music*) my dad recently was talking about my brother’s friends and said with (friend) and (deadname—I mean, a) but my mom was there and she made a face. And two of my aunts are coming for his graduation.

thats all for now, that was way longer than intended, sorry! Have a good day/night cas!

Hi hon!

Honestly, my mind is blown that you’re two anons, but it makes sense lol. *goes to adjust spreadsheet*

I think what you said about touch is super important because touch is, when it comes down to it, about trust. And it seems like you trust your teacher more than your mom. Which is definitely sad to realize. But I think trust has to do with feeling accepted, and it seems like your teacher has shown more acceptance than your mom, unfortunately. I mean it even shows that with your dad and the whole crying thing.

And yeah, religion is hard. I get that so much. It’s hard to believe in something when things suck, especially when that belief is forced on you.

As far as the hotline, do you have access to discord? I can give you my discord if that’s helpful.

Sending love 🥰

#asks #ask #ask cas #swiftie anon

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