#CO2-Preis
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#Notlage#Gefahr#Regierung#Ukraine#EU-Beitritt#Gesetze#Rüstung#Geldverschwendung#Beschlüsse#Mittelstand#Rentner#Landwirte#CO2-Preis#Erhöhung#Lebensmittel#Tanken#Heizen#Strom#Preiserhöhungen#Inkompentenz#Haushaltsmisswirtschaft#Verantwortliche#Familien#Einschränkungen#Industrie#Abwanderung#Niedergang#Ampelregierung#Misere
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16,2 Millionen #Arme fragen, wie sie das alles noch bezahlen sollen? Das sind keine #Glod-#scheißenden-#Esel!
Bundesregierung erwägt eine #stärkere #Erhöhung des #CO2-#Preises. Eine #Einfamilienhaus, das mit 20.000kWh Gas im Jahr heize, müsse jährlich mit 74,10 Euro #Mehrkosten rechnen. Habe man jedoch eine #Öl-#Heizung und verbrauche rund 1800 Liter zum Wärmen, koste dies dann 87,21 Euro #mehr im Jahr.
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i feed my corn snake live mice. how is having the mice die in a way that is natural for them less ethical than freezing them to death? genuinely asking, not trying to start discourse or anything. i don't know how they go through the process of freezing mice, but i assume death by natural predator would be quicker and less scary and painful than getting frozen to death? unless they kill the mice some other way before freezing them?
Feeder mice are not frozen to death, they are typically euthanized via CO2. It's completely painless and designed to be as humane as possible.
The main ethical problems with feeding live rodents to snakes for both animals are these:
For the rodent, it's not really natural. They're being placed into a much more controlled situation than a wild rodent would be with no real opportunity to flee. Predation may be natural but it's still scary for the prey animal, especially when compared with a quick and painless death from CO2 inhalation.
For the snake, live feeding is dangerous, especially once a snake is old enough to eat adult rodents. A live rodent will be fighting for its life and will bite and scratch accordingly. I've seen far, far too many snakes need to be euthanized due to severe rodent bites, and far too many with lifelong scars and pain from bites.
I do encourage everyone reading this who feeds live to consider switching your snake to frozen/thawed. Not only is it more ethical for your pet (and the rodents), it's also much more convenient for you and often much cheaper. In my experience it's typically quite easy to switch snakes to f/t food, but if anyone would like any trouble-shooting help please do let me know!
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Chapter 4 Trivia
Tsukasa's stone-cold goals are revealed.
Tsukasa's still got some lion blood on his hand from the punch he delivered in the last chapter.
Because lions have to be stronger than their prey, they're full of muscle and don't have a lot of fat, making their meat tough. Because of the lack of connective tissue and fat to soften the meat through traditional methods, the best way to do it is slowly over a low temperature which prevents the meat overcooking while allowing the connective tissue to break down and soften. Recommendations for cooking lion meat say 57°C over 24 hours. After that, it apparently tastes like pork, but richer.
(I couldn't find any sources on the meat smelling or tasting like ammonia, I'm forced to assume it's a side effect of their territory-marking urine?)
Normally it takes 6-8 weeks to make leather out of skin, but here Tsukasa is wearing it immediately and probably even before the body's become cold, judging by Taiju carrying Yuzuriha's statue to the base in the next panel. This is absolutely disgusting. Don't do this please.
Here we have proof Senku switches out his pouches based on what he needs. What's actually in them is anyone's guess though!
Smoking food works for several reasons. It dries the food (preventing fungal/bacterial growth), the smoke keeps insects away during the process, and the smoke itself imparts preservative and antimicrobial compounds such as the aldehydes Senku mentions. (Too much is toxic though!)
Interesting little habit you have there, Senku...
According to Senku, Tsukasa's skin is extremely pale. I'm not sure if this means he's got Snow White's complexion, or if Senku and Taiju are by comparison very tanned from working outside all day.
Tsukasa may have deemed himself the fighter, but he's no meathead! Based off his thoughtful comments, it looks like Tsukasa is quite scientifically knowledgeable himself, just not as much as Senku.
Adding lime (calcium carbonate) to soil reduces its acidity. Most plants prefer a pH of 6-7.5, which is neutral to slightly acidic. Obviously adding lime to already alkaline soil will make it even more alkaline, so you should test your soil first. Some plants like the acidity!
Heating lime to over 900°C releases CO2 and forms calcium oxide. Adding water and sand to it creates mortar, a substance that hardens by absorbing CO2 from the atmosphere and turning it back into calcium carbonate.
Fun fact: you can use the carbon in mortar for carbon dating!
To make soap, you need a fat (vegetable oil, bacon grease) and a base (lye, wood ash, lime). The goal is to saponify the fat. In modern soaps, calcium carbonate is added to bulk up the product and act as a mild abrasive.
Taiju is a very good friend for Senku because he obviously pays good attention and has a good memory. That is all.
He's just not that great for subtlety or negotiations...
Legally, "disfigurement" means to cause permanent change in a person's body, particularly by leaving visible scars which affect a person's appearance. We don't see any of that on Tsukasa, so did they heal? Was he fighting with broken fingers pre-petrification? What happened?
Freshly broken stone parts are colored in white. Does this mean as long as the stone is still white/unblemished, the pieces can be recombined?
Haha yeah it would be a shame if an evil dictator was woken up...
I still don't understand why Tsukasa skinned the lion where it dropped instead of bringing it back with them if they were going to eat the meat anyway...
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Naramis Week 2023 (Day x)
@naramisweek
so sorry didnt get the chance to post earlier
so this is my take on the prompt.. i saw 'together|apart' and i waws like FUSION ARC FUSION ARC FUSION ARC
So this is the fusion of Mista and Narancia, dubbed Mistancia.
He/him, aged at around 17.5, about 5'7.5" tall give or take, and user of the Stand 「Bird Of Prey」, which is functionally essentially a homing missile that, instead of heat-seeking, tracks CO2 emission. It's more 'rocket launcher' oriented than revolver-oriented. The 'gun' he's holding there is actually a part of that big launcher on his back there.
it's a bit overkill but thats half the fun. "what are you gonna do, shoot me?" "WORSE."
and heres the limbancia version plus some bonus mistancia x limbo interaction stuff. i was gonna also draw limbos fusions with the boys plus the triple fusion of all three but i didn't get around to it so for now I have this:
Mimbo, the fusion of Limbo and Mista, and their Stand 「Mighty Wings」, which, combining 「Cloud Nine」's signal disruption and 「Sex Pistols」' trajectory alteration, has the ability to redirect signals. I'm not sure where Mimbo got the tits. they don't know either but their hair is literally perfect
I don't have an image of Nimbo, the fusion of Narancia and Limbo, yet, and I don't want to show my friends pic of them without their go-ahead, so for now I'll just describe them:
Nimbo (also called 'Nimbus')
Narancia + Limbo, they/them, 17 years old, approximately 5'4.'5", Stand is 「Hard On The Knees」 (also considered 「Fly Away」) and I'm not completely sure what it does but it probably has some limited control over CO2 rather than just detecting it..
Finally, the triple fusion (Minarimbo? Limarista? Mistarimbo?) has 「Free Bird」. He/they, about 17.5, ~5'7, I don't know what the Stand does.
#jjba#golden wind#vento aureo#naramis week 2023#naramis#narancia ghirga#guido mista#limistancia#jojos bizarre adventure#amby draws#my art#jjba oc#jojo oc
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TMA Encore #10
The fire alarm rings throughout the halls of the archives. A blue-white flare flashes intermittently, casting stark shadows and pins of light on the silvery worms that seep in through every seam and vent in the basement.
Jon skids to a halt as he sees Tim and Martin approach him.
Jon: Are you both alright?
Tim: We’re fine.
Jon: Good. Good. Sasha just headed off to intercept Jonah, so we–
Martin: Look out!
He pulls Jon by the back of his shirt as a writhing flow of worms burgeon from the aged molding of a nearby wall corner. A dozen of them flick outward from the mass toward the spot where Jon was just standing. A few make contact with his arm. He brushes them away feverishly.
Tim: This way!
Tim leads the other two down a long hallway without many weak points. They pass an empty bracket where a wall appliance should be. Some worms slither around on the floor, but can’t get a hold as long as the boys are running.
Tim: Jonah’s down here. I just saw him. So, she can’t be far.
Jon takes about a second and a half to wonder why Jonah wouldn’t be upstairs like he was in the tapes. Not-Jon could have lured him somehow. Easier prey.
Once they reach a safe intersection, Jon stops them and tries to get his bearings.
Jon: Okay, hold on. We need to get to our original places. Tim, you need to split off and head to the CO2 canister room. Martin and I will follow around.
Tim: Then, just come with me!
Jon: He’ll notice.
Tim: Yeah, screw this.
With a single hoist, Tim picks Jon up by the waist and carries him like a rolled-up carpet. Jon exclaims and struggles but can’t get free.
Tim: Come on, Martin.
Martin: R-right.
They march around the corner as fast as they can manage without losing grip of Jon.
Jon: What on earth do you think you’re doing?!
Tim: The real plan. We’re fighting our way out of here.
Jon: You can’t be serious. This isn’t an action movie, Tim!
Tim: Sasha’s idea, actually. Martin liked it too.
Jon fires a look at Martin.
Martin: Sorry.
Jon keeps protesting as they navigate and try to avoid drifts of worms. Pain shoots up their ankles and wrists as a few catch hold. Panic starts to set in as they encounter more and more blank walls and empty wall brackets. They reach the storage room and find it empty.
Martin: Uh, Tim…?
Tim: Where the fuck are the CO2 canisters?
Sasha had to catch herself. Nearly said “Jonah”.
The head of the Magnus Institute is in the middle of thwacking a cluster of worms crawling along the wall with a rolled-up manila folder. He picks a few off of his arm. His pants are tucked into his socks.
Elias: Sasha. You should evacuate--someone pulled the fire alarm. Not to mention there are these things.
Sasha: I know, I pulled it. We better find a route as far away from supporting walls as we can.
Elias: Of course. They’ll take longer to fill up a larger room.
And it’ll make it harder for Not-Jon to sneak up, she hopes. Jonah may be a monster, but they can’t have him feeding the other predator.
Elias: I think the closest room is artifact storage.
Sasha: ...No. No, I think I’d rather try the big file room over this way.
Elias: Why?
Sasha stumbles over the thought of going through there again. Even if the table is gone, any of the other cursed objects could get her. There may be no reason they’d strike now more than any time before, but the thought of her life ending in the same spot again barbs her.
Sasha: Guh–I–if they’re eating through wood fiber, I’d rather have papers fall on me than bathtubs and axes.
Elias: Ah. Good point.
They head off. She lets him lead by a little bit, weighing how much of this he might have been hoping for and how much is genuine surprise. She can’t help but worry how difficult he’ll make himself if he catches on that they know something.
Elias: Sasha?
Sasha: Y-yes?
Elias: Were you also the one who locked all the doors? And removed the CO2 canisters?
Sasha: What? No. I didn’t even know they were.
Her mind races.
Elias: I thought it might have been Jon. He seems very unwell lately.
Sasha: Is now really the time, sir?
They’ve nearly reached the file room.
Elias: You’re right. I can assess the team’s efficacy after this is over. And make changes from there.
Sasha: Well, it wasn’t any of us.
She speaks reflexively and only realizes the implication of another actor after taking a good pull at the file room door.
The second the door swings open, the two of them have to leap back as a wave of worms comes spilling out. They cover Sasha’s feet. She rips them off as quickly as she can, but she misses a few that make it into her socks. When she looks up, Jonah is gone.
Sasha: J–! *sigh*
She moves on in search of another path.
~
Tim, Jon, and Martin are running out of options. Tim has put Jon down, his muscles tired from toting him around and getting kicked for it. It doesn’t matter. There’s no way back to the original route without crossing rivers of worms. Jon is occupied with watching their blind spots with Martin. He reserves the right to bitch about being manhandled, however. Tim doesn’t even hear him. He’s laser focused on finding their way through the maze of corridors.
All the connecting rooms their plan is counting on are locked. Neither his or Martin’s best shoulder charge can break them down. They don’t really have time to try, anyway. It feels like the worms are coming out faster and faster. The three of them all have little tag-alongs on their arms and legs too deep to dig out. Martin can swear one went down the back of his shirt. There are no CO2 canisters anywhere. The air smells stale, almost putrid.
It feels like they’ve been down there for hours by the time they reach the stairs. Tim stops at the intersection and looks around.
Martin: Wasn’t Sasha supposed to meet us?
Tim calls her name down the halls. No answer. The three of them unanimously decide that they’re not going anywhere without her and dive back in. As they turn around, Jon notices that the heavy security door at the top of the stairs is shut. He’s never seen it shut.
Jon: It looks like our exits are being cut off. The tunnels might be our only option after all.
Tim: I swear to god, I’ll take that door off its hinges if I have to. We’re not going down there again.
Martin doesn’t say anything. He nervously glances between them and the halls with his jaw set.
The putrid smell intensifies.
Jon and Tim graduate to arguing over directions and minutia of risk. The rising tide of silver worms make their choices narrower and narrower, yet they both find grounds to disagree. It reaches a point where they’re fighting over whether or not to open a door. Martin’s eyes and stomach hurt from the smell. He can swear it’s getting stronger the longer they wait. Worms press in from the way they came. He holds his breath, takes a step between his teammates, and opens the door himself.
Tim turns and runs.
~
Sasha has lost track of time. She was definitely supposed to meet Tim and the others by now. Whenever she thinks she’s found a valid path forward, she ends up with worms or locked doors and has to double back and circle around. Her fingers turn cold as she tries not to picture what kind of trouble they could be dealing with while they’re separated. She hopes Jon wasn’t too irate.
Part of her might be willing to be bolder if the other part didn’t already know what would happen. Death by misadventure. Again. That is, if Not-Jon doesn’t elect to pay her back for her meddling first. She tries to listen for footsteps, but the gut-churning squirming is drowning out everything else. And then, there’s that smell. She pushes forward.
Within the next couple minutes, she thinks she does hear something. A voice, maybe. Instinct tells her to hide, but she isn’t about to go anywhere near the walls. She doesn’t even feel like she should stop moving.
Jon: Back this way.
Sasha: Jon? Jon!
She sprints around the next corner and skips over a heap of worms. She nearly trips.
Her heart sinks through the floor.
Sasha: Oh, god. How–why–?
Martin: Prentiss cornered us. He cleared our way out… kind of. But I think he’s okay. He’s just unconscious.
Jon: We’re trapped. We need to get to the tunnels.
Sasha glances at Martin. He nods decisively.
She marches ahead and scouts their way to the room at the end of the hall. Guilty frustrated tears pool in her eyes as she approaches the door she had risked her friends’ safety to avoid. She kicks away some worms and tries to see if it’ll even open.
The doorknob to the office slides easily in its socket. There are two flashlights, extra batteries, and a first aid kit waiting for them beside the trapdoor. Sasha looks at Jon. He shakes his head like, “Wasn’t me.”
They all know who it was. This was planned. There was never any escape.
Martin sighs.
Martin: Come on. Almost there.
Sasha lifts the carpet-covered plank a crack. Seeing nothing immediately alarming, she opens it the rest of the way and holds it so the others can carefully pick their way down. She grabs the gear and follows.
~
The tunnels aren’t as quiet as they should be. Soft unintelligible echoes drift up through the darkness in overlapping strains. The noise does nothing to describe what activity could be going on deeper in the prison–only to remind that there is, indeed, something there. Jon tries to ignore it as he holds the flashlight for Martin and Sasha while they work on stabilizing Tim.
He watches the shallow rise and fall of Tim’s stained shirt, trying to keep his worries off of all the red holes and whatever he isn’t seeing with his back turned. His mind still finds room to wander and berate. There wasn’t actually that much evidence to suggest that Not-Jon would find them on their first escape attempt. If he had planned the mess they’re in now, he might have been counting on Jon to stall before. If he hadn’t, they might have made it out. But he just had to get them caught. He had to be sure. The view of the flashlight quivers back and forth. He tucks the handle under his arm.
Once in a while, a sharper noise gets Sasha and Martin’s attention. Jon snaps around with the flashlight extended accusatorily, finding nothing there but some aimless stray worms. They resume.
Martin tries to be precise with the corkscrew, but the wounds are already deep. Slowly, the worms come out, one by one.
Sasha: Maybe we should stop and let him rest a bit. The bleeding might be too much.
Martin puts the screw and Tim’s arm down gratefully. He wipes off his stiff hands on a cheap rag from the kit.
Martin: *dryly* Anybody want to go next?
Jon looks a little sick and hangs his head.
Sasha wraps and ties off a bandage layered with gauze around Tim’s forearm.
Sasha: I, um, might have tipped Jonah off on my way down here. For all we know, he’s already headed for the hills.
Jon: Not unless he miraculously got through to unlock the doors. I’d bet he’s down here somewhere.
Sasha: Along with our old pal.
Martin: I guess we’ll have to figure out a way to keep them away from each other. Fast.
Jon and Sasha look at him.
Martin: Well, what else are we gonna do? Who knows what’s going to happen if he gets what he wants?
Jon: *glancing at Tim* It’s out of our hands, Martin.
“He’s not wrong.”
Jon keeps the flashlight trained on the apparition. The other Martin is perfectly unbothered in the harsh light. The group’s alarm subsides.
Sasha: You must be with The Thing That Used To Be Jonathan Sims?
Not-Martin: I suppose you could say that. Which… would make me What Remains of Martin Blackwood.
Jon, Martin, Sasha: Not-Martin.
NM: Sure.
Not-Martin gives Tim a quick appraisal. He gently rolls back Tim’s pant leg to the knee, revealing a whole series of holes that Martin hasn’t gotten to yet. The others flinch, unsure if it’d be a good idea to try to stop him.
NM: Good lord. That went badly, didn’t it?
His tone is devoid of concern. Tim sucks air as the other Martin scores his hand up the red-riddled leg, forcing the worms out as burnt black coils. The skin is instantly cauterized and healed. The others stare in appalled fascination.
NM: I’m really not a fan of the Desolation… or the Flesh. But they can be made to come in handy.
Tim lolls his head, not quite able to regain consciousness. Not-Martin gives him a quick slap across the face, and he’s wide awake. Tim presses up against the wall, his attention flicking between the two Martins with instant suspicion.
Tim: This the other one?
NM: The one that just saved your leg. Can I see your arm?
Tim notices the absent pain and does some calculations in his head. He submits his arm. The wounds are completely healed, if with an unfavorable hissing sound. Not to mention Not-Martin’s ice hold hands. Tim feels his arm over. Nothing seems acutely out of place. Did his arm hair always grow in that direction?
NM: Sorry it took me so long to catch up.
Jon: Were you part of the other me’s plan all along?
NM: Can’t imagine I would be. I’m trying to stop him.
As Not-Martin works on the rest of them, he explains his objective. He does so as casually as outlining a to-do list. Jon guesses that he’s been here before, too.
In short, Not-Jon really does want to prevent an apocalypse, but his plan is doomed to fail. His logic is deeply swayed by the hunger of the Fears, and he’s unable to see that. Not-Martin keeps trying to interfere, so Not-Jon stalls him as much as he can between interactions with the group.
He asks the group some questions. They don’t exactly trust him, so they give him a general summary of their ordeal from the past few months. No details. The corner of Not-Martin’s mouth pulls thoughtfully. He says that things probably went roughly the way that Not-Jon expected. He usually winds up having to deal with Jonah in the Panopticon.
Jon: Then what was the point of having me hide the statements?
Tim: Nothing. Just keeping you busy.
Jon restrains a glare, unable to argue.
Not-Martin’s gaze searches somewhere above them.
NM: Well… maybe not nothing.
Below, all the worms on the ground wither and die.
NM: And there goes Jane.
Not-Jon struggles to hold together as he overtakes the vacuum created by the absence of Jane. His throat fills up with flossy spores. His skin rots and turns blue with ugly uneven patches of mold. His old worm wounds turn to greasy pits as his tissues shrivel and tear. He is a vague decomposing shape on unsteady legs.
He imagines pulling himself upward, through the rising tide of the Corruption’s desire to rot and hollow. If he keeps pulling, he’ll be able to surmount it. He’s done it countless times before. But it just keeps coming. The pulling is hard. It’s tiring. It hurts so much. He doesn’t stop.
Jon notices Not-Martin through the floor. Not-Martin finishes healing the others and stands up. Not-Jon grits his teeth and steps away from the wall. The Corruption slowly recedes.
————
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First
The fact that I hadn’t introduced Not-Martin yet was one of the big reasons I didn’t give up on this project. So happy he’s finally here.
#the magnus archives#mag200 spoilers#magnus pod#tma fancomic#tma encore 10#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#sasha james#tim stoker#jonah magnus#elias bouchard#the corruption#cw parasites#cw pitted skin#cw blood#cw decomposition
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would you consider sparing a moment of your time to tell us more about some of your favourite creatures🥹? maybe even in excruciating detail if you so please?🥹🥹
These large creatures are related to nootflies. They bear similar features to other local arthropods but act almost entirely removed from their ancestral lineage. Unfortunately I don’t have much information to list due to only having recently discovered them in my region.
They appear to be migratory and follow warm weather fronts. Usually this brews storms which churn up the environment and thus leads to why these creatures favor them so: airborne debris. Smoghawks feed off of the inorganic material usually thrown into the air. What happens in their digestive tract causes them to generate lots of CO2 which is forcefully expelled through the end of their tail to propel themselves through the sky.
Their wings are fin-like and catch particles in the air as they feed, which then leads them to finding a high perch to preen their wings and suction off all the material using their short proboscis. It’s a time consuming process to gain the daily nutrients necessary I imagine. All these materials are, visually, used to form their ashy-colored exoskeleton. It’s made of a combination of flexible material but as they grow older it cracks and eventually either falls off or kills the individual. Yes, I am saying they grow indefinitely.
I suppose other notable features of this species are that they’re incredibly defensive for being prey animals. They use their highly reflective eyes to blind potential attackers. Unfortunately this being their only weapon it’s only viable if they’re in direct sunlight or if their attackers possess bioluminescence (or any other form of light).
#ough lots of words#I may make a full ref for these guys eventually I kinda like them#also I wonder what they resemble hmmmmm#creature database#ES#old asks
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Trigun Bookclub: Trigun Vol.1, Chapter #06
previous | all | next
I’m doing a deep-read of the Japanese original print (reread) and Overhaul 1.0 (first read) side-by-side, and writing down everything I notice from small details, version differences, translation differences, etc.
Here are the non-analysis meow meow panels (only 2 today, sorry 😔)
And the rest is under the cut.
[link for if the images aren’t in horizontal rows]
I really love the "train conductor/bus driver/etc puts themself in danger to protect the passengers" trope- NOOOOOOOOOO COOL CONDUCTOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Small correction: These first onomatopoea are actually...flesh sounds......
And I wasn't really thinking about corrections for this one, more just for nuance, but Neon says something like "it's unfortunate, but..." in this line.
A small difference here: in my version it's actually CO2, not oxygen that's being supplied to the Heat Plant. However, considering that O2 is a fuel for combustion and CO2 is a byproduct, it may be an error on Nightow's part.
This is one of the first indications of who Kaito actually is. He knows all of this off the top of his head, which catches the Captain by surprise.
It also provides information about Plants. This could either mean that all Plants require some kind of fuel, or that the Plants can utilize those resources in some other way to help the Sandsteamer.
Get graphited idiot.
We also get to see more of Kaito's attachment to this Sandsteamer.
Here, the original line is more like "Why would Brilliant Dynamites Neon have to listen to you when this treasure—the prey I've been hunting—is right in front of me!?"
This is where I notice that Neon has a sort of obsession with "beauty," not just in the regular sense but also in his own way. He obviously values visuals—his over-the-top fashion and desire to go out with a bang—but to him, it's also a question of dignity. (this will be on the exam yall)
Even the gang member is getting worried about what Neon might do to Kaito...
And here's where we find out why Kaito knows so much and wants to protect the Sandsteamer!
Notes on the original phrasing of this line, since I saw a few posts comparing the Dark Horse and Overhaul versions.
The Japanese line is「パッと散りな 小僧」
パッ(pa') is an onomatopoea for "pop," "poof," or a release (e.g. letting go of an object).
散る(chiru, used here in command form) means "scatter," most commonly associated with falling cherry blossom petals. From that, it's also a euphemism for dying. i can go on for another paragraph on the association of cherry blossoms with Japanese views on life/death but you can figure that out. or google it idk
I think this line is another excellent representation of Neon's values on beauty and death.
I love this page so much!! The flow comes to a complete stop, and the tension that has been building throughout the last few pages is at its peak here.
The composition is also excellent. The art is symmetrical, and Neon's giant outfit follows the lines leading from the bottom corners of the page up to Vash's gun, where they intersect right in the middle. I JUST LOVE THESE KINDS OF COMPOSITIONS SO MUCH.....
can't remember why i wrote "sike" there
It took a while to figure out what happened here, but I think Vash either sensed danger or actually dodged a bullet, and chose to jump back out. Love the way he's firmly holding Kaito's overalls while Kaito doesn't understand anything that's going on lol
The silly goofies... theyre screaming crying shitting themselves out there....
It's a bit hard to see, but Kaito is screaming "AAAHHH PULL ME UPPP" in the middle panel.
This exchange after the two get to safety is also so silly...
There's a missing "whrrrr drill drill" SFX for Vash's drill hand (?). I saw a photo of the Dark Horse version which was missing it in the same way, with the leftover ン on Vash's cheek.
I forgot to highlight it, but this note pertains to Vash's second speech bubble about death and destruction.
The Japanese version of the line is something like "I swear!! I have at least 2 digits' worth of death-gods(死神) or poverty-gods(貧乏神) haunting me!!"
Death-gods/shinigami are already well-known in the West so I won't explain that here. The second one, poverty-god/binbōgami, is a similar kind of thing, except it brings poverty to whoever it clings onto (instead of death).
Fun fact: Binbōgami are said to like yakimiso (grilled miso paste).
VASH'S SOUPY BRAIN!!! The mystery has been solved!!!
But first, in order...
Vash's first line is more like "We can't be worrying about all this right now." It could keep the original phrasing, but the main idea is to change "me" to "us."
The next (most important) line is actually "We gotta save brainpower [for the matter at hand]." The confusion lies in the word 脳みそ, which literally translates to "brain miso," but is actually the word for brain tissue, and thus brainpower. It has nothing to do with miso soup!
The origin I wrote in the middle-left of the image is...dubious.... I told my mom about this just now, and she mentioned that it might be called that because みそ(miso) also means the center or key aspect of something. Weblio also says it signifies innards (like from crab or shrimp), similar to what I wrote in the annotation at first. I'll fix it in the document later
Also, I would phrase the last line as "I mean, we're gonna stop this ship, right!?"
Kaito's skills are actually insane. What do you mean you just copied the entire blueprint...
Mistranslation: The respect is directed towards his dad, so it should be "You must really look up to your dad."
I didn't know his name was spelled Kaite in this version.
My Japanese version copy has that bottom part in a regular speech bubble, and with the font for the boxes. It's most likely just a version-exclusive error.
He also says that his dad "found" the ship, but I'm not sure if that's another error or not since this translation makes more sense.
This line is phrased more like "Just for a little bit of cash, I'm now taking advantage of you for a deal with a crook."
I really loved the execution of this scene in the '98 anime. get hammered into the ground boy
The final line is from Kaito, not Vash, and should be "...Yeah!!"
And that’s it for Chapter #06! Sorry for the wait, I couldn't work on this as much as I'd liked because of the smoke and rainstorm, combined with weekend responsibilities. Feeling better now though 💪
As always, the Japanese annotations are in the reblogs.
~~~
Bonus: reactions to the soupy-brained Vash post
#awesomeifidosaysomyself your linguistics hyperfixation/special interest rubbed off on us#how dare you /j#also. TWO mutual cameos in a cerealandchoccymilk post? its more likely than you think (awesome and ghouliaautism)#btw we have fully given up on trying to be up to date with the schedule#no matter how behind we get we WILL get through all chapters tho#trigunbookclub#trigun annotation#trigun#trigun manga
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my radical opinion is that all advertising that is manipulative is completely unethical and should be illegal and it doesnt matter how much i like a game or a product, im not going to play favourites.
middle class ppl shopping from shein and thinking its fine bc shein didnt advertise to you that they use sweatshops so you can just pretend they dont. buying chocolate and pretending there was no slavery involved. advertising aims to manipulate you to not question where things were made, by who, how. advertising aims to make you feel trust and be happy to spend your money and to make you feel as if you werent manipulated.
imagine buying a game and knowing that every step of the process, nobody was abused or mistreated, and the things being advertised to you dont prey on you - no FOMO or misleading. just plain and simple, "heres a cool thing, if you want it, you can buy it, we're not creating artificial scarcity just to make money."
imagine buying a can of soda and knowing that there were no toxins involved in the process, the drink is safe for consumption and wont make you sick over time, no workers at any step were abused or underpaid, and all materials and working processes were safe, and none of it was harming our planet.
thats not where we live. advertising is lying and manipulating and misleading you constantly all the time. to make you think this can of soda is "fine". this bar of chocolate doesnt advertise the slavery. this game doesnt tell you about the people who got completely burnt out working on it. this company doesnt talk about how their business model is built on manipulating ppls feelings.
anyway i hate everything and we should all live in co-op communities and eat the rich and all that but the least you can do is not excuse your faves. dont excuse your fav movies or games or foods. hold celebs accountable for their co2 ommissions and for promoting any brands whatsoever (if you find a celeb promoting a small scale brand with no abuse or toxins involved anywhere in the process i will be happily surprised). or for promoting diamonds and gold for that matter. deconstruct everything that they told you matters
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3. Pain and Heat
Part 3 of my notes on An Immense World by Ed Yong, drawing from chapters 4 and 5 so you can design more biologically accurate speculative beasts.
“In which conditions and from which stimuli is it an advantage to have [pain/nocioception], experience it, and display it?”
Nocioception and Pain
What is it?
Nocioception is a built-in reaction to unpleasant stimuli like heat, pressure, acid, toxins, and inflammation/injury signals. It occurs without input the brain.
Pain is the psychological experience of unpleasantness that occurs in the brain, perhaps allowing the animal to learn to avoid the nociceptor trigger.
How is used in nature?
To send an alert to avoid and move away from danger.
If the alert is not helpful for the animal to know about (i.e. the stimulus is not harmful to them, or not actionable) they likely will not feel it. Examples:
Animals like mole rats that live in high carbon dioxide environments are not sensitive to acids (CO2 acidifies mucous membranes)
Mice that eat scorpions experience their toxic sting as a painkiller
Animals only experience temperature-related “pain” when it is dangerous to them. So penguins that are adapted to live at freezing temperatures don’t feel unpleasantly “cold” until it’s actually harming their bodies.
What does it look like?
Nocioception often presents as an unconscious flinch, i.e. pulling your hand away from a hot pan.
Outwardly, pain often looks like rubbing, cradling, licking, grooming the area; heavy breathing, lack of appetite, rocking motion.
What is the experience like?
There are likely many different experiences of nocioception/pain for different organisms, just as there are many different ways to sense light.
One example: If an animal can reach its whole body, it probably has localized “pain” and can identify where the stimulus came from, so they can groom or otherwise attend to the injury.
But in squids and [perhaps other animals] where threat can come from any direction and they can’t reach much of their body, pain is felt across the whole body, not in the location of injury.
Heat
What is it?
Animals have TRP channels that are tuned to different temperatures. So there are different sensors that alert for extreme heat, extreme cold, mild heat, mild cold. Capsaicin and menthol happen to set off these sensors even though they aren’t actually “hot” or “cold”.
How is it used in nature?
To alert an animal that it needs to react to remain in its thermal “habitable zone”. i.e. With heat sensors on their antennae, flies have stereo heat detection and will swerve around to stay in a certain heat range.
To locate sources of heat important for their lifecycle from many miles away (i.e. fire-chasing beetles).
For a parasite to locate a specific host or a good site to feed – since warm-blooded animals all have their own very specific body temperature, a parasite can be tuned to detect that exact temperature.
As infrared sensors that enhance “vision”. Heat pits have an eye-like structure and may be merged into visual information in the brain. Snakes will position themselves to hunt against a backdrop where there will be a strong temperature contrast between the prey and the ground or sky.
What does it look like?
Skin, antennae, heat pits in snakes, and a dog’s cold/wet nose may all work as heat or infrared sensors. Infrared sensors are often insulated and kept at lower than body temperature so they can better distinguish changes in temperature.
What is the experience like?
Cold, heat, and pain if the temperature is outside the animal’s normal/safe living conditions.
Possibly like “blurry vision”, or as a vision enhancer in animals that have more standard light receptive eyes, i.e. allowing a snake to see heat through barriers like foliage.
As a strong directional attractant, like a beacon.
See the heat pits running along the top lip of this snake.
#speculative biology#science#speculative evolution#speculative fiction#writeblr#an immense world#research
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#Klimakatastrophe#Notbremsung#Treibhausgasemissionen#Tonnen#Höchststand#Erwärmung#Katastrophe#Anpassung#Tempolimit#Wärmegesetz#Subventionen#CO2-Preis#Klimageld#Klimaschutz-Sondervermögen#Klimawende
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#Ampel #Regierung will jetzt #CO2-#Peris deutlich #anheben ❗
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Wo bleibt das Klimageld?
Damit es nicht bald so aussieht
... wollte die vor 2 Jahren angetretene Ampelregierung etwas gegen den Klimawandel tun. Für die Mehrkosten von Klimamaßnahmen sollten die Menschen durch ein Klimageld entschädigt werden. So steht es im Koalitionsvertrag.
Nachdem die Ampel nun 12 Milliarden zusätzlich in den Bundeswehretat verschoben hat - das macht eher einen olivgrünen Eindruck - und noch weitere 100 Milliarden direkt der Rüstungsindustrie versprochen hat, klafft nun ein großes Loch im Etat der Bundesregierung.
Keiner redet mehr über das Klimageld
Doch, die Verbraucherzentrale Bundesverband (vzbv) wies vor 2 Tagen darauf hin, dass z.B. die Einnahmen durch die CO2-Bepreisung - das sind bisher 11,4 Milliarden Euro, die der Bund eingenommen hat - irgendwie an die Verbraucher zurückgezahlt wrden sollten. Ramona Pop, Vorstandsmitglied des vzbv erklärte dazu:
"Der CO2-Preis schafft einen Anreiz für klimaverträgliches Verhalten ... Die Einnahmen aus dem CO2-Preis muss die Bundesregierung aber über ein Klimageld an alle Verbraucher:innen zurückerstatten. Sonst ist die CO2-Abgabe neben den hohen Energiepreisen eine zusätzliche finanzielle Belastung für die Menschen."
Der vzbv errechnete dazu, dass sich nach den Einnahmen bei 82 Millionen Menschen in Deutschland eine Auszahlungssumme von 139 Euro pro Person ergibt. Angemessener wäre sicher ein Rückzahlung entsprechend des Einkommens, allerdings würde das wieder einen hohen bürokratischen Aufwand erfordern. Das pauschale Auszahlen an "alle" wurde dagegen bereits in der Corona-Krise mehr oder weniger gut geübt.
Wenn die Ampel jetzt das Klimageld "vergisst", würde die CO2-Abgabe als zusätzliche Steuer empfunden und die Akzeptanz der letzten kläglichen Reste ihrer Klimapolitik endgültig zerstören.
Mehr dazu bei https://www.telepolis.de/features/Klimageld-Warum-die-Verbraucherzentrale-139-Euro-pro-Person-fordert-9581286.html
Kategorie[21]: Unsere Themen in der Presse Short-Link dieser Seite: a-fsa.de/d/3y1
Link zu dieser Seite: https://www.aktion-freiheitstattangst.org/de/articles/8627-20231223-wo-bleibt-das-klimageld.html
#Klima#Umwelt#CO2#Abgabe#Steuern#Klimageld#Rückzahlung#Koalitionsvertrag#Bundeswehr#Aufrüstung#VerbraucherzentraleBundesverband#vzbv#Transparenz#Informationsfreiheit#Diskriminierung#Ungleichbehandlung#Verhaltensänderung
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When I saw your post about feeding your Roaring Moon Pawmo, I started to wonder where you source them from? I know that some cultures see the eating of other Pokémon as taboo, but...our meat has to come from somewhere, right?
i buy remus's pawmo from a whole-prey supplier that raises the pawmi and pikachu line from eggs, euthanizes them with CO2, and then freezes them for transport/storage.
as for the pokemon i eat, i try to buy from local farms as much as possible; when i can't, i try to research the farms slaughterhouses i buy from so i can see how their livestock are raised.
#charlietalks#pkmn irl#pokemon irl#euthanasia#//im sorry but the idea of someone in the pokemon world not knowing meat comes from pokemon is making me giggle
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One For The Memory
Chapter 11: All The Horrors
Chapter Summary: Surely nothing can go wrong during this confrontation with Elias.
Surely, now that Martin has remembered everything, he will reunite with Jon in peace and they will live happily ever after with no further problems.
Surely.
CW: suicidal ideation, blood, gunshots, hospitals
Author’s Notes: Yes, this took me like half a year. I have no excuse tbh, this first scene has defeated me in more ways than I'm willing to admit. But it is what it is, I'm posting what I've got so strap in cause this is the second to last chapter on this ride! I hope I can get the last one out before the year ends but uh. Not making any promises. Life is being incredibly busy at the moment.
Work Summary:
Jon awakens with a tidal wave of memories that don’t make any sense. In an attempt to go on with his life, he searches for the cause of the turmoil in his mind. He knows, though, that something inside him is waking up.
Likes are greatly appreciated, but please consider reblogging so other people may see it! Thank you 💜
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Fury rages inside Jon as he rushes down corridors towards the boiler room. About halfway there, the wall piping springs to life and hisses CO2 out of the vents. He instinctively holds his breath but finds he experiences no discomfort; apparently his body has no need for oxygen anymore.
A couple seconds later, a terrible shriek echoes from somewhere below the floor, and Jon knows the Hive is dead.
It doesn’t really change anything. He hopes Martin and Gerry are safe without Tim there to break the wall into the tunnels; but that’s just a passing thought, quickly replaced by the single-minded purpose of ending this once and for all. Without overthinking (or thinking of any kind, really), he storms into the boiler room to see Elias staring into space.
His gaze flicks towards Jon as he enters, momentarily surprised.
“Jon? I was told you were absent.”
He doesn’t let his surprise show for long, but Jon knows he was not expected.
“This ends now,” he growls, curling his hands into fists. He curses his lack of thinking - he could use a weapon. “You’ve failed.”
“Oh?” Elias raises his eyebrows. “Have I now?”
Jon looks around and, with a considerable amount of bitter irony, notices a fragile, rusted pipe along the bottom of the wall. He rushes to it and breaks off a piece. CO2 rushes out into the air, but Jon doesn’t mind. He picks up the pipe and grips it tight with both hands.
Elias’ eyebrows travel even higher, and his mouth forms a smile bordering on pity.
“Really?” He asks, incredulous. “And what exactly are you going to do with that?”
“I’ve killed you once,” Jon says a little breathlessly, his hands shaking with adrenaline. “I can do it again.”
“Jon.” Elias’ patronizing tone only fuels the rage inside Jon. “Let’s be sensible now.”
“I’m done being sensible with you,” he growls, taking two steps forward. Elias straightens up slightly. “I’m done listening to your bullshit.”
“Now, now, let’s take a step back, shall we?” He extends a hand towards him in what is probably supposed to be a peaceful gesture. “Before anyone does something we might… regret.”
Instead of answering, Jon swings the pipe, striking Elias’s palm. The crack of breaking bones mingles with Elias’ cry of pain. He retreats further into the room, cradling his injured hand to his chest.
“The only thing I regret is not doing this sooner.”
“J—Jon, wait… I—”
“I’m done waiting! This is the end, Jonah. Accept it.” Jon follows him slowly, like a predator cornering its prey. For a moment there is genuine fear in Elias’ pained expression, and Jon revels in it.
In the next, Elias’ left hand fumbles behind his back and pulls out a gun.
Jon freezes. Elias clears his throat, blinking away the tears of pain.
“I very much hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” he says, attempting a level voice amidst the pain. “But you leave me no choice.”
Jon holds eye contact through the brief pause.
“Unless you agree that this was simply a… misunderstanding,” Elias continues with a tight smile. “I’m sure we can still come to an agreement and put it all past—”
“Like hell we will,” Jon scowls. “You’re not talking your way out of here and blackmailing us into obedience. This ends right here, right now. One way or another.”
He can’t stop grief from lining his words with a bitterness only he understands. “You kill me, or I kill you - either way, you lose.”
“Jon, this is suicide.” Elias gives him a stern look. “We can work this out—”
“No.” Jon takes another step. “Make your choice, or I’ll make it for you.”
His heart races in his chest, his breathing is fast and shallow, and his hands tremble around the pipe. Still, his voice does not waver. He takes one more step forward, just as Elias takes one step back.
“You’d hurt a lot of people by killing me, as I’m sure you’re aware. Is this really worth dying for?”
“I don’t. Care.”
Elias shakes his head with a heavy sigh. “So wasteful.”
Jon snorts. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
Elias takes a second to again assess the situation. The determination on Jon’s face is unwavering and, as they take another step in their approach-and-retreat dance, Elias’ back hits the wall.
“Jon, I beg you,” he tries again. “I really don’t want to do this.”
“Tough,” Jon says through gritted teeth. The tension reaches a breaking point; Elias sees him prepare to strike.
He takes aim and pulls the trigger.
***
A horrible shriek coming from the archive stairs vibrates the air around Martin, and he stops for a moment. Gerry and Sasha stop right behind him, and he feels Gerry’s hand on his shoulder. The entire ground floor is rapidly filling with CO2, judging by the hiss from the vents they installed, and soon enough there will be close to no oxygen in the corridors. Martin covers his mouth instinctively and turns to his friends.
“Get out! It’s not safe here!”
“Martin!” Gerry’s grip tightens, stopping him from running off. “We’re going with you.”
“No, I’ve got this.” Martin gives him a pointed look. “Trust me. Go.”
“Are you sure?
“Yes! Go and talk to the police!”
He then shrugs Gerry’s hand off and runs down the corridor.
“I am not talking to the cops,” Gerry mutters with disgust.
“Come on, then!” Sasha tugs him by the arm, but he stops her.
“No, wait!” He looks around and blinks hard against a headache that has started to creep up on him. “I have another idea.”
He grabs Sasha’s arm and pulls her up the stairs.
“Where are we going?” She asks with confusion.
“Elias’ office,” Gerry says over his shoulder. “There’s gotta be some proof that he killed Gertrude.”
Sasha gasps excitedly. “I like where your mind’s at.”
They throw the office door open and take a second to calm their breathing. The air is clearer up here with less vents installed, but Gerry still takes a moment to open the window.
“You okay?” He asks Sasha, who’s already rummaging through Elias’ desk.
“Yeah, just a bit lightheaded, that’s all.” She waves her hand dismissively. “We’ll be fine.”
Gerry turns to join her at the desk, and they both jump when two gunshots pierce the air.
They exchange concerned glances.
“Was that…?” Sasha trails off, her meaning crystal clear.
“There’s no one else in the Institute,” Gerry answers through the tightness in his throat.
Sasha looks between the desk and the door in distress.
“Should we go check up on them?” She asks. “I think, out of the three of them, Elias is the most likely to own a gun.”
“Owning it doesn’t mean it was he who fired it,” Gerry offers weakly. “We could split up.”
“Alright, you go.” Sasha nods and gestures towards the desk. “I’m good at this sort of thing. Meet you back downstairs in fifteen.”
“Okay.” Gerry squeezes her shoulder briefly. “See you.”
As he runs through the Institute, Martin searches his pockets for anything that could be used as a weapon. All he finds is the corkscrew, still covered in Tim’s blood. He grimaces and shrugs. There’s no time to look for something more appropriate, and it is better than nothing.
He tries to breathe in as little air as he can without suffocating, but he still feels lightheaded soon and has to briefly stop and lean against the wall to regain balance. His heart hammers in his chest, with memories of the last moments in the Panopticon springing to his mind without conscious input. The situation is awfully similar to him sprinting up the stairs of the tower, not yet aware of what waited for him at the top.
His throat closes up at that, and he pushes the thought away. Now’s not the time. It’s not too late yet.
That’s when two gunshots ring through the air in rapid succession, close enough to startle Martin. His blood freezes momentarily and then he breaks into a run, not paying attention to his vision swaying ever so slightly. He staggers a couple times, losing balance. He doesn’t stop and pushes himself off the wall towards the boiler room.
The door to it is ajar, and he can hear someone groaning in pain inside. He instantly recognizes Jon’s voice; a testament to hearing him in pain far too many times.
There’s no one else inside but Jon, lying on the floor and clutching his shoulder. There’s a bloody trail along the floor, as if he had tried to drag himself to the exit but ran out of strength, which is, as Martin suspects, exactly what happened. Elias is nowhere to be seen, so Martin lets go of the corkscrew and drops to the floor at Jon’s side.
“Jon. Jon, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
He quickly takes off his own sweater to wrap it around Jon’s wounded shoulder, eliciting a groan of pain. It seems the other shot hit his thigh, effectively stopping him from any attempts at walking, while not killing him instantly. He’s losing blood fast though; the fact that it was Elias who dealt the wounds meant the Eye wouldn’t heal him. Martin’s mouth goes dry with fear.
“Martin…” Jon blinks up at him with effort and reaches for his arm. “What… What are you doing here?”
“Saving your bloody, stubborn ass, apparently,” he huffs out a half-hearted chuckle. “You’re gonna be okay. Ambulance’s already here, c’mon.”
“No! No…” Jon lets out a pained gasp. “Leave… I can… I can free you. All of you.”
“What are you talking about?” Martin laughs in disbelief, something painfully constricting in his chest.
“If… If I die—”
“Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare.” Martin tightens his grip on Jon’s shoulders and grits his teeth. “You promised.”
His eyes prickle - his self-control can only last for so long. Jon doesn’t seem to hear him.
“Martin, listen… The Panopticon… In the tunnels, you… you have to—”
“Shut up, Jon, for once just—just shut up.” His breathing comes in irregular spasms as he manoeuvres his hands under Jon for a good grip to pick him up.
Before managing to do that, he hears steps running up to the boiler room, and Gerry appears in the doorway.
“Martin? I heard…” His eyes widen at the scene in front of him. “Oh, fuck.”
“Ambulance, now!” Martin shouts and heaves Jon up with a groan. Gerry wastes no time, running back down the corridor.
“Martin, please…” Jon’s breathing is laboured, and the movement causes him pain. Blood seeps into Martin’s shirt, but he could not care less. He hurries towards the exit of the Institute as fast as he can without jostling Jon too much. “Please just listen…”
“Save your strength,” Martin mutters. “You’re not dying on me now, you hear me? I forbid it.”
Jon laughs lightly and tears spill from his eyes.
“You’re just like him…” He whispers.
Martin can't hold back tears anymore. The walk is taking forever, and he’s starting to wonder if there’s a supernatural influence increasing the distance just to toy with him.
“I’m sorry,” Jon whispers. He blinks slowly, as if it’s an effort to keep his eyes open. A surge of fear cools Martin’s blood. “I’m… sorry for everything.”
“Jon, hold on,” he says through gritted teeth. “We’re almost there, please. Please, just hold on a little longer. Jon!”
Martin shakes his arms a little when Jon’s eyes stay closed this time. His eyelids flutter for a moment and his breathing slows down.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Martin repeats as he breaks into a run. “Jon, for fuck’s sake!”
He storms into the Institute’s atrium to find paramedics there, wheeling a stretcher from the entrance in a hurry.
“Here!” Martin calls out. He quickly lays Jon down on the stretcher, and the paramedics make short work of positioning him straight on his back with his feet elevated.
“Detecting faint pulse, looks like severe blood loss,” one of them shouts as they wheel him out of the building and into the ambulance. Two of them focus solely on applying direct pressure to the wounds, and another fixes an oxygen mask on Jon. Gerry runs up to Martin and grabs his arm in support.
“Are you hurt?” Gerry asks, and Martin only shakes his head.
“He can’t die now, he can’t, he can’t,” Martin repeats, not caring if he’s speaking out loud. They follow the paramedics up to the ambulance, where they’re stopped by a firm hand.
“We need to take him to the hospital,” one of the paramedics informs. “He’s in good hands now.”
“Is he going to make it?” Gerry asks. The man presses his lips together solemnly.
“I’m sorry, it’s too early to tell. We’re doing what we can.”
He disappears inside, and the ambulance takes off, its siren blaring.
Martin stares after it with an empty expression for a moment. Is it the Web’s doing? Giving him the ‘gift’ of tapes that bring back his memory only to take Jon away? A last, cruel joke? He can’t let that happen, but… What can he do? As in their home universe, so in this one, he’s unable to make a real difference. What good is he against literal powers of fear?
“Was that… Guys, who was that?”
Martin barely registers Tim’s voice. He finds it impossible to look anywhere but at the fixed point in space, and his blank expression is frozen on his face. He feels cold all over.
Gerry looks between Martin and Tim, who limps up to them unsteadily, but doesn’t say anything.
“Gerry? Martin?” Tim asks again, more insistingly. He suddenly looks around in alarm. “Where’s Sasha?”
“She’s…” Gerry stops short with a sudden look at Martin. “Where did Elias go? Martin?”
If Martin hears him, he doesn’t answer. He’s like a statue, staring out into space.
“For fuck’s sake…” Gerry mumbles and breaks into a run up the stairs.
In the door to the Institute, he almost collides with Sasha, who exits the building.
“Woah!” She exclaims, almost dropping the file box she's holding in her arms.
“Good, you’re here.” Gerry breathes out with relief.
“Oh, thank fuck,” Tim breathes out as soon as they make it down the stairs and lunges to wrap Sasha in a hug. She blinks in surprise and returns the hug.
“Did you find Jon?” She asks over Tim’s shoulder, who’s unwilling to let her go just yet.
Gerry looks down with a sigh. Martin looks at Sasha with eyes glazed over with tears.
“I found him,” he says in a thick voice. He walks up to the stairs and sits down heavily. “Too late. Always… Always too late.”
Sasha looks between them fearfully, extracting herself from Tim and guiding him to sit down next to Martin.
“What are you saying?”
“Self-sacrificial bastard,” Martin mutters and hides his face in his hands, as a wave of heart wrenching sorrow overtakes him. Gerry rushes to put an arm around him and gently guides his bloodied hands away from his face.
“They took him to the hospital,” he supplied quietly. “He might still make it.”
“But…” Sasha takes a shaky breath. “But I saw him shrug off a fatal injury from the table creature like it was nothing! How is a gun different?”
“Beholding cannot heal him because it was Elias who injured him,” Gerry explained. “I think. I’m not sure how this works.”
“Only a few can hurt him now,” Martin adds shakily. “Hunt avatars and those who belong to the Eye. That’s why Elias… And I—”
Martin’s voice breaks, as he stares forward with unseeing eyes.
“How do you know that?” Sasha looks at him in surprise. “What… What happened to you?”
Martin lets out a laugh. “I remember everything,” he mumbles. “Jon wasn’t the only one that came through that night, but the Lonely hid me away. Annabelle must have known…”
“Annabelle Cane?” Sasha frowns. “The one who—”
“—Brought the tapes, yeah.” Martin sniffles. “She said it was a gift. A thank-you gift. Because we did what she wanted.” He gasps and for a moment it’s not clear whether he’s crying or laughing.
“Martin…” Gerry looks at him worriedly.
“I just wanted us to have some peace,” Martin whispers. “Why can’t we have just a little bit of goddamned peace?! I just… It was going to work out, everything was supposed to be— And I’m…”
Gerry pulls him closer. “It’s going to be okay, Martin,” he whispers soothingly. “You’re both going to be okay.”
Martin laughs mirthlessly at that. He should know better by now than to believe that.
***
Fleeting nightmares play in his mind for what seems like eternity; vague sceneries that realize themselves just enough to spark dread in his gut, only to fade away in the next second, his consciousness pulled in different directions like a leaf on a changing wind. The visions leave him with a suffocating weight on his chest (does he even have one of those anymore?) and a bitter taste on his tongue. Some of them feel more real than the others, and it’s in one of those that he comes to on a hospital bed, with an IV taped onto his arm. Martin sits beside him, staring into space with a blank expression. Jon takes a moment to just look at his face; his eyes are slightly red-rimmed as if from crying, but the rest of his face is dry. Jon feels strangely detached from the sight and oblivious to its meaning.
“Mar…tin…” Jon whispers slowly, as if savouring the taste of the word. Martin’s eyes snap to him instantly, and he gasps.
“Jon? Jon, Christ. You’re awake.”
He chuckles weakly. His vision is hazy and his brain feels foggy; there’s no pain, just this floaty feeling of dream-like reality surrounding him like a plush pillow.
“Didn’t expect afterlife to look so… hospital-like,” he mutters and reaches his hand out towards Martin. He takes it with a look of confusion. “But that’s fine. You’re here. ‘S all that matters.”
“Wha… Jon, you’re not dead.” Martin levels him with a hard stare. “I wasn’t gonna let you die.”
Jon closes his eyes and shakes his head with an indulging smile. “Of course, you weren’t.”
He falls through the unstable ground of reality to the next dream, with no memory of the conversation.
When he wakes up again, it’s with a much clearer mind, and aches. He groans and shifts, causing more pain to flare in his shoulder. With that, recent events begin trickling back into his mind.
“Welcome back to the land of the living.” He hears a voice beside him, and he opens his eyes to see Gerry sitting cross-legged on the hospital chair, with a lopsided smile on his lips. It fades a little into something more serious. “Are you in pain?”
Jon only whines in answer.
“I’m gonna call the nurse then, yeah?” Gerry moves to get up, but Jon shakes his head.
“Wait,” he mumbles. “Martin…”
“He’s alright,” Gerry answers gently. “As are Tim and Sasha. Everyone’s okay.”
Jon exhales with relief.
“I’m… alive,” he says, making Gerry snort.
“Astute observation. Despite your hardest efforts, might I add. You’re a lucky bastard.”
Jon lets out a pained laugh. “Not… how I’d describe it.”
“Elias shot at you twice but only one of the bullets actually hit you.” Gerry points his chin at Jon’s shoulder. “The other one only grazed your thigh. You lost a lot of blood before Martin got to you, but they managed to save you. Not sure how much of that was Beholding, but you’re expected to make a full recovery.”
Tears cloud Jon’s vision for a moment, and he lets out a breath.
“Elias?”
“Made a break for it, from what we can tell,” Gerry shrugs. “Hasn’t reappeared since. He’s probably aware that Sasha found dirt in his office.”
Seeing Jon’s frown, Gerry adds: “Gertrude’s murder on tape . Sick asshole. A few other blackmail cases too and, well. Apparently some old, human bones. Not sure what that’s about, but the police seemed very interested in those.”
“It’s time to find the Panopticon,” Jon groans and pulls himself upright. “We have to kill—”
“Easy there, cowboy.” Gerry shoots out to steady him on the bed. “First of all, you’re in no state to go anywhere. Second, this place is monitored, and the cops are still sort of interested in you.” He raises his eyebrows pointedly. “I’d be careful with phrasing.”
Jon sighs and grimaces in pain. “Right.”
“How about I call the nurse to get you some more of that sweet anaesthetic, huh?” Gerry offers.
“Alright, fine,” Jon looks away. “Just, um, Gerry?”
“Yeah?”
“Has Martin… How—How is he?”
Gerry looks at him wordlessly for a moment with a glint in his eye Jon can’t place.
“I think you two should just talk,” he says finally. “Preferably when you’re conscious.”
“I am conscious.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that in ten minutes,” Gerry chuckles and presses the white button on the wall. “You have been talking in your sleep a bit.”
Jon opens his eyes wider. “I—I have?”
“Apparently you thought this was heaven,” Gerry snorts. “Don’t know where you got that idea, but to each their own, I guess.”
Jon presses his lips together in a sudden spark of self-consciousness.
A short, older nurse enters the room with a clipboard and greets Jon with a smile.
“Good morning, Jon. I’m Eliza.” She walks up to check his vitals and the IV currently inserted in his arm. “Do you know where you are?”
“Uh…” Jon blinks in slight confusion. “In a hospital, I suppose. I’m afraid I haven’t been in enough of those in London to recognize them individually from the inside.”
Eliza laughs. “That’s perfectly fine. Mind telling me how you feel?”
“I feel fine.” He shifts slightly and winces.
“Any pain?” She raises her eyebrows and gently looks over the bandages.
“Just the usual amount, it’s fine.”
“The usual amount is none, sweetheart.” Eliza tilts her head at him. “I’m going to run a basic check-up, and then I’ll give you some more anaesthetic, alright?”
Jon grimaces at her words. “Yeah, alright.”
“I’m sorry sir, I’m going to need you to leave for the moment,” she addresses Gerry. “You’ll be able to come back once we’re done.”
“Sure thing.” Gerry places a hand on Jon’s arm. “Hang tight. I’m gonna go get Martin.”
Jon wants to call after him, but he can’t bring himself to mention statements in front of the nurse. After Gerry leaves Jon sighs and braces himself for the onslaught of questions, trying not to think about the growing pit somewhere inside him.
The anaesthetic has stopped working.
Jon stares at the translucent fluid dripping down into the IV line and he Knows it has no further effects on his body. He supposes that’s just as well; it would be surprising if, after merging with the less human part of himself, he still adhered to the laws of human biology.
He feels exhausted. Hungry. He’s afraid of what he will do if he doesn’t get access to a statement soon; there must be plenty of people with various experiences in this hospital. Jon’s not very keen on creeping through the corridors in search of a victim. What would his Martin think of him if he saw him?
He tries not to think about the confrontation with Elias. Ultimately, he failed in what he set out to do, and now Elias is gone and he’s… Vulnerable. More powerful and knowledgeable, sure. But ultimately defeated.
After all, he’s the one who brought the fear entities into this universe.
Annabelle Cane said so herself when she visited the Archives that fateful morning. Jon wasn’t there to listen, but a tape recorder running in the background captured the entirety of the meeting. Jon doesn’t even need to hear the tape anymore to know what it contains.
Everything’s already done. The Web got what it wanted and there is nothing he can do.
But that’s not true, isn’t it? He might be alone here, stripped of his humanity and cursed to live off of other people’s fear, but there is something he could still do. He could ensure that his assistants - his friends - are safe. This world may be infested with nightmares because of him, and he will bear this guilt for all eternity, but one thing he needs to do is make sure Sasha, Tim, and Martin are never plagued by these creatures again. Perhaps that could be his anchor to humanity for as long as they live. And after that…?
There’s a gentle knock on the hospital door; the sound of it tugs at Jon’s heart. His gaze flicks to the door, which opens to reveal Martin, his eyes wide and glistening.
“Hi, Jon,” he says quietly, and there is a certain fragile quality to his voice. Jon smiles through the ache in his chest.
“Hello, Martin.”
A flash of pain travels through Martin’s face, and he carefully closes the door behind him and walks up to the bed.
“I… I brought something for you,” he speaks and reaches for his backpack. He places it at the foot of the bed, and it touches Jon’s leg under the bedsheet. Somehow, this contact grounds him.
Martin pulls out a file folder and wordlessly passes it to Jon, who frowns with confusion as he takes it. Careful of the wound in his shoulder, he opens the file.
“That’s…” He blinks. Statements. “How did you know?”
Martin lets out a pained laugh. “I don’t know where to start.”
Jon properly looks up at that. There are tears in Martin’s eyes as he hangs onto the backpack. He still hasn’t approached, staring at Jon as if he might disappear if he looks away.
“I don’t… understand.”
“I mean, really, where do you start ?!” A maelstrom of emotions breaks out on Martin’s face when he exclaims or maybe sobs out the words. “Should I be thanking every damn power in the universe that allowed us to get here alive? Should I be angry at you for trying again and again to sacrifice yourself at every goddamn opportunity? Should I just fucking break down here and now because of how scared I was that when I actually managed to remember it all, I was too late? That you were already” —His voice cracks, and he looks up, trying to stave off tears. “But you’re here, and you were here the whole time, and you were here alone . You were alone because a part of me refused to let go, and that’s my fault, so, do I feel guilty for pushing you to feel like this was what you had to do? Because I feel all of this and more, and I just…”
He looks away, blinking furiously.
“Martin, what… What on Earth are you talking about?” Jon asks faintly, not able to fully process this outburst. Martin laughs through tears.
“It’s me, Jon. I’m here. I remember.”
Something enormous sinks heavily in Jon’s chest. He shakes his head weakly.
“No, that’s…That’s impossible. You—”
“Annabelle Cane came to the Institute the morning Prentiss attacked,” Martin says. “She brought tapes. The tapes from our world, all of them, detailing everything that happened.”
“This isn’t real,” Jon mumbles through a numbness that spreads on his face. “It can’t be real.”
“I listened to the one from the start of the Change,” Martin continued mercilessly. “I didn’t know it would help me, but I felt drawn by it. Must’ve been the Web or, or a part of me just knew. It was from the first Lonely domain we passed. I fell behind, in a house full of fog and lost souls, and I—I kept forgetting—”
“Stop!” Jon wouldn't be able to stop shaking his head even if he wanted to. He retreats, pressing his back into the wall behind his bed, as if that could distance him from Martin’s words. “I tried everything to bring Martin to the surface. He would have answered if he was there.”
Martin smiles bitterly for a moment, and a wistful look passes through his face.
“Huh. I remember thinking the same thing when you were in a coma,” he says quietly. “’He would wake up if he could. For me.’”
Jon stares at him in mute terror.
“I think I understand now, though.” Martin sniffles. “It made no difference if or how much you loved me, or anyone else. It was Oliver who helped you, but ultimately it was something you had to go through on your own. Make your own peace with it or succumb to it. I’m just… I’m sorry it took me so long to get there.”
Jon leans forward slightly, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He extends a hand but falters halfway, laying it on top of the sheets instead.
“You’re… You’re saying you really… You’re…”
Martin walks up to the side of the bed and gingerly takes Jon’s hand.
“Yeah. We made it here together.” He swallows with difficulty. “One way or another.”
Jon lets out a weak whine.
“When… When did you—?”
“After Prentiss showed up.” Martin squeezes his hand. “When Gerry and I were locked in the document storage.”
“Oh, my G—Martin, I’m so— I didn’t—”
Tears stream down Jon’s cheeks, and Martin carefully pulls him into a hug, seating himself on the edge of the bed.
“It’s alright, Jon,” he whispers, stroking Jon’s hair. “It’s alright.”
Jon’s defences all shatter like glass, and he cries into Martin’s shoulder for what feels like ages. Martin can't stop his own tears either. Soon enough they are both a mess of tears and ragged breathing.
Martin pulls back, cradling Jon’s face in his hand. He passes a thumb across his cheekbone, wiping away some of the wetness.
“Can you forgive me?” Jon asks almost inaudibly, and in his eyes, Martin can see grief that could envelop the entire universe in its magnitude.
“I love you, Jon,” Martin breathes out. “I’ve already forgiven you.”
Jon lets out another small whine, and more tears spill out of his eyes.
“You’re safe now,” Martin adds and tucks Jon's hair behind his ear. “That’s all that matters.”
Jon stares at him like a wounded animal. With a sudden self-consciousness, and a sinking feeling of guilt, Martin withdraws his hands. What if Jon doesn’t feel this way about him anymore? After what had happened - after what he’d done?
This line of thought is quickly shut down, as Jon catches his retreating hands in his own.
“Don’t go,” he says insistently. “Stay. Please.”
“I brought statements for you—”
“They can wait a bit longer,” Jon answers quickly. His eyes watch and almost devour the sight of Martin, as if he has limited time for witnessing his presence and wants to take as much out of it as he can.
“Alright.”
Jon moves carefully to the side, and Martin settles next to him, leaning his back against the wall just enough so he can wrap his arm around Jon and pull him close. Jon melts against him like he’s done a million times before, albeit in an entirely different lifetime.
They both know they still need to talk. The events at the Panopticon hang over them like a dark cloud and they’re aware that the issue is far from being resolved. But for now, they are safe, together; feeling each other’s bodies pressed close, hearing each other’s breaths. And that is all that matters.
***
Jon is let out of the hospital a couple days later, baffling the doctors with his immunity to any and all medication beyond what was used to immediately save his life. The wounds begin healing slowly, and Jon finds himself able to walk around with a cane quite soon. He basically flees the hospital then, without making too much of a scene if he can help it. Recovery means that the police will probably take interest and Jon wants to avoid that as much as possible.
They do catch him either way; they wait for him at the Institute when he and Martin return from the hospital. Martin takes a protective step in front of him when they’re approached by Basira in a police uniform, holding a notepad. She only asks a couple questions and moves on, firmly telling them that entering the tunnels under the Institute is prohibited until the case of Gertrude’s death is closed.
They meet with Tim and Sasha in the archives’ breakroom, and Martin leads Jon to a chair. Under other circumstances this kind of hovering would probably grate on Jon’s nerves, but this time a warm feeling blooms in his chest. He beams at Martin as he’s guided to sit down, and he leans his cane against the table.
Jon takes notice of Sasha's subtle (and Tim's less so) looks at the two of them. They haven’t talked a lot between the events at the Institute, with Tim recovering from the after-effects of being replaced and helping Sasha as best he could while she handled the situation at the Institute itself. Rosie took the brunt of dealing with the police, but Sasha was responsible for managing the ECDC crew, who disposed of Jane Prentiss’ corpse. They haven’t really had time to even visit Jon in the hospital, and Martin was, to put it mildly, unresponsive. Gerry helped as much as he could from a distance, since, in his words, it wouldn’t be best for him and the police to cross paths again.
“So…” Tim starts uneasily, looking between Jon’s tired face and Martin, who is still clutching Jon’s hands in his. “You guys are both… From that other place? Not just Jon?”
Jon can’t hold back a smile, and he looks down at their joined hands. He still can’t believe it. Martin is actually here, after all this time he thought he was alone… They actually made it.
“Yeah,” Martin answers. “I know this must be super confusing for you, I’m—I’m sorry. But yeah, the whole thing with me not remembering Jon’s tape, the confusion, the disappearing.” He looks away. “I guess I needed an additional push to remember it all through the fog.”
“Annabelle’s tapes,” Sasha prompted.
“ Our tapes,” Jon corrects with a tinge of anger. “As much as I might hate it.”
“We hate her more,” Martin adds pointedly.
“Why did she do that, then? An act of benevolence?” Tim scoffs.
“She said it was a gift.” Martin sighs. “I don’t think there’s anything sinister here.”
“I doomed countless worlds, this one included,” Jon said thickly, not looking at any of them. “I did what the Web wanted. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter if Martin is here or not.”
“Jon.” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand. Jon looks back at him.
“You can’t deny it. Every single tragedy, every single death in this world due to the Fears is because of me. The fact that the Institute exists here, the fact that Tim and Sasha are trapped here in the first place is because of what we did. I told you this would happen and—”
“The Fears were here well before we arrived,” Martin counters. “You couldn’t have possibly brought them here.”
“I Saw it all in the Panopticon.” Jon shakes his head. “They did originate in our universe, grew from but a trace to something that ultimately broke free from its nest. There’s no saying how many other realities they travelled to. They exist in an entirely different way to us, Martin, they’re not physical beings; they’re not concerned with time .”
Jon’s voice takes on that patronising tone it sometimes used to take during the Apocalypse; as if he was explaining something utterly inane. Anger sparks in Martin at that.
“Even so, we did what we had to do! We can’t be held accountable—”
“No, we didn’t .”
They stare at each other with eyes glistening in emotions, a quiet battle of resolve.
“How about… we discuss what to do next?” Sasha asks carefully, tilting her head. “Here and now?”
Something sharp glistens in Martin’s eyes, but Jon decides to disregard it. He sighs heavily and turns back to the table.
“We need to go to the tunnels and find the Panopticon. Jonah’s body should still be there, and if we kill it, the Institute should release everyone. We’ll successfully evade the chance for the Change happening here for a good while yet.”
“But not forever?” Tim asks.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible.” Jon shrugs slightly. “Jonah Magnus will be dead, but nothing stops other avatars from figuring out what he did. The fact that he was the only one to figure it out so far is a hopeful sign at least.”
“What about us?” Sasha asks with a concerned glance at Tim. “You said it could kill us?”
“It won’t.” Jon presses his lips together. “At least it shouldn’t, you haven’t been here long. The rest of the Institute shouldn’t notice a thing. Elias highly exaggerated the cost, of course.”
“Uh… So, where is he now?” Tim asks.
Jon frowns, looking off to the side.
“I’m… not sure. The Eye is weaker here, and I can’t…”
“It doesn’t matter though, does it?” Martin interrupts impatiently. “We just need to find the Panopticon and kill him.”
“Right.” Jon nods. “You—You have a knife, right?”
“Hold on, like, right now?” Tim raises his hands. “No preparation, no… nothing?”
Martin shrugs. “The more we wait the more time he has to plan something.”
“We’re talking about killing someone, Martin, you’re… you’re okay with that?”
“We’re talking about killing a two-hundred-year-old guy who’s ended the world,” Martin deadpans. “But you guys don’t have to go if you don’t—”
“You are not getting rid of us now.” Sasha firmly shakes her head. “We might not fully understand what’s going on, but I’ll be damned if we don’t help you take this to the end.”
Jon smiles at her. “Thank you, Sasha.”
“Alright then.” Tim exhales loudly through his mouth. “To the secret tunnels then, I presume?”
-
Enter Relationship Conflicts: I doomed countless universes to torment because I couldn't watch you die edition. I cannot wait to explore it. Be warned.
Title inspiration: "The Horror and the Wild" by The Amazing Devil
#niki.writes#tma oftm#tma#the magnus archives#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#jonmartin#can you believe?
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The Blue Glaucus
(The most badass creature in the sea) (ok admittedly maybe not that badass but still pretty badass)
I'm really excited to do the so-called "blue dragon" for my first post, because it is my absolute favorite animal. Even though I thought I knew pretty much everything I could about it, I still learned a couple new things researching.
The blue glaucus, aka glaucus atlanticus, is a 3-centimeter-long sea slug living in the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian Oceans. If you read the title at all, you'd see my claim that the blue glaucus is the most badass creature in the sea. Okay, I exaggerated- maybe they're not exactly super badass. I wouldn't exactly be running away screaming in terror if I saw a one inch "sea slug" floating around at the beach. But, despite its size, the blue glaucus is extremely dangerous. It holds the concentrated venom of its prey, the Portuguese Man O' War (yes, the funky looking jellyfish with extremely long and terrifying tentacles). They're protected from the venom by a layer of mucus in their skin and can store the stinging nematocysts inside of their bodies. As sea slugs, the glaucus isn't poisonous without obtaining the venom from a Man O' War first. However, once stored, a sting from this "blue angel" can kill a human.
The blue glaucus spends most of its time floating around on its back near the ocean surface, hiding from birds and loggerhead sea turtles with a camouflage known as countershading. The glaucus's lighter top and darker blue bottom help it blend into the natural light of the ocean. The blue dragon lives a relatively simple lifestyle, using swallowed CO2 bubbles to float or sinking towards the bottom of shallower waters. It doesn't live very long, with a life span of only a month to a year. With a mucus-covered layer of skin, the blue glaucus is protected from any stings it may receive from its prey.
Some general badass characteristics of the blue glaucus:
-knife-like teeth.
-laying its eggs in its prey's carcasses.
-cannibalism.
-S-shaped dicks. (They also can sting each other during sex.)
-a group of blue glaucuses is called a "blue fleet."
-They're hermaphroditic (hemaphro-DICK-tic, if you will,) meaning a single blue glaucus can produce eggs or sperm.
Here's some article links to the sites I used: Blue Glaucus - Oceana,
Blue Glaucus Facts & Information Guide - American Oceans
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