#the lion's mane
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He was a natural athlete, however, and excelled in every game which did not throw too great a strain upon him. Summer and winter he went for his swim, and, as I am a swimmer myself, I have often joined him.
How and where did Holmes even learn to swim? Where could he practise in London? Why have none of the cases even featured a swimming Holmes? He doesn't even like exercise! Bit too convient this, Doyle. Still, a swimming Holmes makes for a fun picture in my head. Can you imagine how much of a menace a swimming Holmes would be? I picture him going swimming with Watson and secretly diving under to pinch Watson's ankle and scaring the hell out of him. Also, so much dramatically lounging about on rocks like a mermaid
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The Lion's Mane pt 2
Fair warning: I've had a fever for like half of the day, so this is liable to be more unhinged than usual. Everything feels sort of floaty and I'm pretty sure I had a dissociative episode this morning. Fun. Woooooo!
"That's The Haven, as Bellamy called it. The one with the corner tower and slate roof."
His house has a tower? No fair.
There was no mistaking that tall, angular, straggling figure. It was Ian Murdoch, the mathematician. A moment later we confronted him upon the road.
Is he hiding a jellyfish catapult up his jumper? That's the real question.
Is he three jellyfish in a trenchcoat?
"I am your subordinate, sir, under your roof. I am not aware that I owe you any account of my private actions."
Stackhurst's nerves were near the surface after all he had endured. Otherwise, perhaps, he would have waited. Now he lost his temper completely.
"In the circumstances your answer is pure impertinence, Mr Murdoch."
"Your own question might perhaps come under the same heading."
Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!
"You will kindly make fresh arrangements for your future as speedily as you can."
"I had intended to do so. I have lost to-day the only person who made The Gables habitable."
omg McPherson and Murdoch unrequited love enemies to lovers 100k angst hurt no comfort major character death
Murdoch needs to set out on a mission of revenge to murder all jellyfish. I still don't like him because throwing dogs through windows is an unforgivable offence, but VENGEANCE must be his new creed. He can turn the power of maths to his cause.
One man's quest to avenge his beloved. A tale for the ages. Revenge is best served wet.
I feel like there's a jelly and ice cream joke to be made there, but I don't think he should eat the jellyfish, even if that might be one of the only ways to kill them for good.
"My son here" -indicating a powerful young man, with a heavy, sullen face, in the corner of the sitting-room -- "is of one mind with me that Mr McPherson's attentions to Maud were insulting."
Maybe Mr Bellamy the younger is three jellyfish in a trenchcoat! Or maybe the whole family is jellyfish shapeshifters!
The possibilities are endless.
(the idea of jellyfish shapeshifters is going to give me the weirdest fever dreams tonight istg.)
Who could have imagined that so rare a flower would grow from such a root and in such an atmosphere? Women have seldom been an attraction to me, for my brain has always governed my heart, but I could not look upon her perfect clear-cut face, with all the soft freshness of the downlands in her delicate colouring, without realizing that no young man would cross her path unscathed.
Ugh, Holmes. Come on. I was counting on you! I'm going to lay the blame for this one on ACD and say that he suffered from the inability to describe a pretty woman without being horny about it, no matter who his narrator was supposed to be,
"There is no reason why my sister should be brought into the matter," growled the younger man.
Her boyfriend's dead, bitch. There's a lot of reasons. Stop being a dickhead and start being a comforting brother. Honestly. Stupid jellyfishifter.
She listened to a short account from my companion, with a composed concentration which showed me that she possessed strong character as well as great beauty. Maud Bellamy will always remain in my memory as a most complete and remarkable woman.
Well, at least she isn't getting brain fever. We are all grateful.
"Bring them to justice, Mr Holmes. You have my sympathy and my help, whoever they may be." It seemed to me that she glanced defiantly at her father and brother as she spoke.
OMG they are jellyfishifters! She knows! She knows!
"I see no reason for mystery," she answered. "We were engaged to be married, and we only kept it secret because Fitzroy's uncle, who is very old and said to be dying, might have disinherited him if he had married against his wish. There was no other reason."
The ancient enmity between the jellyfishifters and the sea turtle shifters! It's Romeo and Juliet meets Waterworld (I've never seen Waterworld, but I assume that it is a war epic about the ongoing conflicts between jellyfish and sea turtles. Or I do now, because it has occurred to me.)
"There was a time when I thought he was. But that was all changed when he understood the relations between Fitzroy and myself."
The tragedy. The homosexual pining.
"Sad story this, sir, about Mr McPherson's dog," said she one evening.
I do not encourage such conversations, but the words arrested my attention.
"What of Mr McPherson's dog?"
"Dead, sir. Died of grief for its master."
Best. Boy. Survived being thrown through a plate glass window only to die of grief.
Also, what the fuck, Holmes? You 'don't encourage such conversations'? You're the only person she sees all day. TALK TO THE WOMAN.
So the dog was also attacked by the jellyfish. Someone really needs to mark that beach off limits.
You will know, or Watson has written in vain, that I hold a vast store of out-of-the-way knowledge without scientific system, but very available for the needs of my work. My mind is like a crowded box-room with packets of all sorts stowed away therein—so many that I may well have but a vague perception of what was there.
Have you finally remembered that lions man jellyfish exist?
...Inspector Bardle of the Sussex Constabulary—a steady, solid, bovine man with thoughtful eyes...
Animal comparisons as well. It's like we have Watson back.
"What would my position be if I let him slip away with all this evidence against him?"
You have literally 0 evidence.
"But I have examined them very carefully with a lens. They have peculiarities."
"What are they, Mr Holmes?"
Well, one peculiarity is that they're jellyfish stings. So write that down.
"A most ingenious comparison. Or shall we say a very stiff cat-o'-nine-tails with small hard knots upon it?"
bdsm play gone very wrong... or jellyfish?
It's a difficult one.
Ian Murdoch staggered into the room, pallid, dishevelled, his clothes in wild disorder, clawing with his bony hands at the furniture to hold himself erect. “Brandy! Brandy!” he gasped, and fell groaning upon the sofa.
BRANDY! The triumphant return! And Watson isn't even here to administer it.
Get that man some brandy and cure him of... what's probably jellyfish stings, I guess. Does the brandy go in his mouth or does he bathe in it?
Half a tumbler of the raw spirit brought about a wondrous change.
If there is anything this year of Sherlock Holmes stories has taught me, it's that there is a panacea, it is brandy and we should all worship it. I need some brandy, clearly. Why am I taking paracetamol when I should be downing brandy?
At any moment he might die. More and more brandy was poured down his throat, each fresh dose bringing him back to life.
Best. Story. Ever.
I love this. It's perfect. No notes. Save that man's life with brandy, Holmes. If only you'd had a hip flask on you before. Can dogs drink brandy? I mean, there's that legend about St Bernards carrying brandy with them. Clearly dogs and brandy go together.
I can't believe brandy is saving the day. This is excellent.
Pads of cotton-wool soaked in salad-oil seemed to take the agony from the strange wounds.
OK, brandy and salad oil. Sure, why not.
I feel like he might be about to die of alcohol poisoning instead. But sure.
“I think I can, Stackhurst. Come with me now! And you, Inspector, come along! We will see if we cannot deliver this murderer into your hands.”
No, do not pick up the jellyfish with your hands.
“Cyanea!” I cried. “Cyanea! Behold the Lion's Mane!”
The strange object at which I pointed did indeed look like a tangled mass torn from the mane of a lion. It lay upon a rocky shelf some three feet under the water, a curious waving, vibrating, hairy creature with streaks of silver among its yellow tresses. It pulsated with a slow, heavy dilation and contraction.
I'm really glad everyone is now on the same page, but I do have to say, Holmes, that clearly you had suspicions and you still allowed people to swim in that pool. That's reckless endangerment of lives, if ever I saw it. I am even more disappoint.
Even if you were wrong about it, you still shouldn't have let people swim there until you were sure you were wrong. Poor show.
There was a big boulder just above the ledge, and we pushed it until it fell with a tremendous splash into the water. When the ripples had cleared we saw that it had settled upon the ledge below. One flapping edge of yellow membrane showed that our victim was beneath it. A thick oily scum oozed out from below the stone and stained the water round, rising slowly to the surface.
A yuck and B, now the jellyfishifters are going to come after you.
Could have just put up signs telling people not to swim there rather than crushing the poor thing. It didn't mean to kill anyone.
"He gulped down brandy, a whole bottleful, and it seems to have saved his life."
✨Brandy!✨
“No, Mr. Murdoch. I was already upon the track, and had I been out as early as I intended I might well have saved you from this terrific experience.”
Yeah, feel bad, Holmes. Feel bad!
"The poor fellow had never thought to dry himself, and so I in turn was led to believe that he had never been in the water."
This I don't get. Was he not wet when they found him? Whatever. Doesn't matter. It was the jellyfish all along. There were no jellyfish catapults alas, and perhaps no jellyfishifters, but we aren't told whether the younger Mr Bellamy had gone suspiciously missing following the crushing of the jellyfish, are we?
But one thing we can all rest assured knowing: Brandy is the true hero. Three cheers for brandy!
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The Lion's Mane
Originally published in 1926, this is the final story we'll be covering from Case-book and the penultimate short story in the canon we're looking at.
Fulworth is a fictitious location, generally placed by commentators in East Sussex.
The Burberry fashion brand has been around since 1856; it and Aquascutum both claim to have invented the trench coat, which gained its name from its popularity with British officers and Warrant Officers Class I, who could wear them in service, although they had to buy them with their own money.
While Anderson is a professional police officer, village/parish constables date back to medieval times where the unpaid role covered things ranging from tax collection to trading standards ot pest control.
Lewes is the county town of East Sussex.
Bathing-cots were four-wheeled wooden contraptions that allowed people to change into their swimwear in privacy and were pushed into the water; people could then get into the sea without being seen from the shore in an era when even conservative swimwear was not something for public display; at the time of their invention in the 1730s, most people actually swam in the nude and bathing remained gender-segregated until 1901. Following the end of segregation in bathing, they rapidly declined in use; many were converted to static beach huts.
Throwing a dog through a window is a bit more than "ill-usage"!
East Sussex Constabulary merged with West Sussex and four other forces to become a single Sussex Constabulary in 1968, which become Sussex Police in 1974.
"Indian file" means single file - the term was used due to the way Native Americans walked through woods and the term is considered offensive today.
Cyanea capillata, aka the Lion's mane jellyfish, is generally found in the cold waters of the northern oceans; it is rare for them to turn up in coast waters. They can be very big indeed; the record is 7 metres in diameter.
Death from an encounter with one is rare, but it can happen.
It should also be noted that the stings remain potent long after death, so don't touch a dead one. In 2010, 150 people needed medical treatment after an encounter with a broken-up one in Rye, New Hampshire.
Vinegar can indeed be used to deactivate the stings of a Lion's mane jellyfish.
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Letters From Watson Liveblog - Dec. 25
The Lion's Mane, Part 1 of 2
Seeing Holmes write about having yearned for the country always brings to my mind his comment about how easy it is to get away with sinister acts there, which to me is the main reason he retires. The second is beekeeping.
I probably wish as much as anyone else that they retired to live together, but a weekend visit isn't horrible all things considered. At least they're still connected, seemingly no harsh attitudes, so that's good. I assume they write to one another often.
No Watson is unfortunate, but it is nice to see Holmes immediately make a friend in his retirement, instead of having him be all alone in his remaining years (housekeeper excluded).
If McPherson got out two more syllables before dying, this whole mystery could have ended right here. As it is, it's very cryptic.
Dogs sure do get a lot of damage in these stories. They've been chained up, taunted, shot in the head, and now thrown through a window. And how good a teacher can Murdoch be that he wasn't fired for the latter? Does he need to defenestrate a student next?
"Ill-usage" is putting it lightly, and humorously. McPherson must have been one good guy to become friends with the man who threw his dog through a window. Not even an open window I might add, but through the glass itself.
A murder happens and Holmes immediately recruits a "Watson" to go with him to solve it. I think it would have been fun if Harold Stackhurst was named Ormond Sacker to really push it more also.
Part 1 - Part 2
#letters from watson#the lion's mane#sherlock holmes#john h watson#harold stackhurst#fitzroy mcpherson#ian murdoch#constable anderson#maud bellamy#tom bellamy#william bellamy#arthur conan doyle#liveblogging sherlock holmes
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The two faces of Murdoch
The last story sent by my friend Watson Holmes has a lot of details that I like: a case so far away from the city, bees, a woman with strong character (Maud), lots of books, brandy and Holmes remembering Watson.
At the beginning of the story Ian Murdoch, due to his temper, is a possible suspect, but after talking to the victim's love interest and discovering the real murder (a jellyfish!), Murdoch
“There are one or two words of explanation which I should give, for I know the direction in which your inquiries have run. It is true that I loved this lady, but from the day when she chose my friend McPherson my one desire was to help her to happiness. I was well content to stand aside and act as their go-between. Often I carried their messages, and it was because I was in their confidence and because she was so dear to me that I hastened to tell her of my friend's death, lest someone should forestall me in a more sudden and heartless manner. She would not tell you, sir, of our relations lest you should disapprove and I might suffer. (...)"
It still surprises me how the same man who threw a dog through a window is the one who helps his friend to get the woman to whom both of them love. Humans are complex and I like to the that in stories like this.
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"My villa is situated upon the southern slope of the downs, commanding a great view of the Channel. At this point the coast-line is entirely of chalk cliffs, which can only be descended by a single, long, tortuous path, which is steep and slippery. At the bottom of the path lie a hundred yards of pebbles and shingle, even when the tide is at full. Here and there, however, there are curves and hollows which make splendid swimming-pools filled afresh with each flow. This admirable beach extends for some miles in each direction, save only at one point where the little cove and village of Fulworth break the line.
My house is lonely. I, my old housekeeper, and my bees have the estate all to ourselves. Half a mile off, however, is Harold Stackhurst's well-known coaching establishment, The Gables, quite a large place, which contains some score of young fellows preparing for various professions, with a staff of several masters."
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Lion’s Mane Jellyfish (x)
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giant Lions Mane mushrooms found in the forest
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Jelly-ve it or not, the lion’s mane jellyfish (Cyanea capillata) is one of the world’s longest animals. This jumbo-sized jelly trails a “mane” of more than 800 stinging tentacles that are covered in cells with venom that stun prey, including other jellyfish, small crustaceans, and zooplankton. Just how long is the lion’s mane jellyfish? Well, its tentacles can grow more than 100 feet (30 meters) long! In fact, the longest examples of this species—which inhabit the Arctic Ocean—are even longer than the longest known blue whale. Come see a life-size model of one at the Museum’s Hall of Biodiversity!
Photo: R. Mickens/ © AMNH
#science#museum#amnh#nature#natural history#animals#jellyfish#lions mane jelly#did you know#fact of the day#exhibit#ocean life
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Source - salz_sop
(Artist's Booth Pixiv DiGiket)
#gay furry#gay furry pecs#gay furry bulge#gay furry lion#artists twitter above#oh i just wanna sniff my way down that happy trail until i get to mount penis#you have such a beautiful mane we should fuck about it
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“But how did you know, Mr. Holmes?”
“I am an omnivorous reader with a strangely retentive memory for trifles.
Going to refer to myself as an omnivorous reader from now on. That's hilarious
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The Lion's Mane pt 1
Merry 26th December, hopefully you're all having good winters so far. Strangely, I was a little busy yesterday, so we're still playing catch up. Lol.
It occurred after my withdrawal to my little Sussex home, when I had given myself up entirely to that soothing life of Nature for which I had so often yearned during the long years spent amid the gloom of London.
OK, so I knew that this was going to be Holmes' retirement, obviously, but also comparing and contrasting this statement with his previous diatribe about the evil lurking in the countryside, insidious and unseen, is very strange. Has he suddenly lost his aversion to the bucolic scenery and isolation that make such crime go easily undetected? Or has he perhaps decided that as long as he isolates himself sufficiently, he won't have to deal with them.
As it is, however, I must needs tell my tale in my own plain way, showing by my words each step upon the difficult road which lay before me as I searched for the mystery of the Lion's Mane.
Firstly, the lengthy paragraph you have provided so far is anything but plain. Secondly, I think there might be a plant called Lion's Mane... is that what this is about?
Research has informed me that I am wrong. There is a plant called Lion's Tail, which is quite pretty, but there is a mushroom called Lion's Mane, so maybe that's what this is about.
Fingers crossed everyone gets high. But I suspect they won't be the fun kind of mushrooms, just the murder kind of mushrooms.
My house is lonely. I, my old housekeeper, and my bees have the estate all to ourselves.
I feel very sorry for the housekeeper in this arrangement. Imagine having only Holmes and some bees for company. Not that Holmes is bad, necessarily, but you've got to admit you'd need something to break up your exposure to him.
There's a lot of swimming going on here in the beginning. I'm not surprised that Holmes swims, because honestly the idea of there being any activity that Holmes hasn't tried is weirder to me, but there is a lot of swimming.
Fitzroy McPherson was the science master, a fine upstanding young fellow whose life had been crippled by heart trouble following rheumatic fever. He was a natural athlete, however, and excelled in every game which did not throw too great a strain upon him. Summer and winter he went for his swim, and, as I am a swimmer myself, I have often joined him.
Here we see the difference between Holmes' narration and Watson's. If this were Watson describing him, Mr McPherson would have had at least another two sentences dedicated to his toned physique and golden looks. Perhaps this is what Holmes meant by 'plain'?
At this moment we saw the man himself. His head showed above the edge of the cliff where the path ends. Then his whole figure appeared at the top, staggering like a drunken man. The next instant he threw up his hands and, with a terrible cry, fell upon his face.
I get that this is probably him dying and as such it's dramatic, but at the same time, it's a little amusing... y'know? There is a touch of the slapstick about it.
One glimmer of life came into his face for an instant, and he uttered two or three words with an eager air of warning. They were slurred and indistinct, but to my ear the last of them, which burst in a shriek from his lips, were "the Lion's Mane." It was utterly irrelevant and unintelligible, and yet I could twist the sound into no other sense.
The weird thing is why would he know he'd been poisoned my lion's mane mushrooms if he had in fact been poisoned by them. To know the specific type of mushroom would be weird because if you knew what it was, you wouldn't eat it.
Is there a lion's mane jellyfish? I feel like I remember a lion's mane jellyfish as well. That would go with the swimming, and also would make sense. Jellyfish are nasty.
Oh, yep. One quick search also shows that there's a lion's mane jellyfish, which is also kind of pretty - sadly that probably means its extremely deadly.
The prettiest things are always the deadliest when it comes to animals. Alas, blue-ringed octopus, the forbidden friend.
woe.
Then he half raised himself from the ground, threw his arms into the air, and fell forward on his side. He was dead.
And we're back to slapstick again. Throw your hands in the air like you just don't care (that you're dying).
The man was dressed only in his Burberry overcoat, his trousers, and an unlaced pair of canvas shoes.
So, ready for a night clubbing, got it.
As he fell over, his Burberry, which had been simply thrown round his shoulders, slipped off, exposing his trunk. We stared at it in amazement. His back was covered with dark red lines as though he had been terribly flogged by a thin wire scourge.
I feel like I've cheated by looking up the jellyfish. Sorry. I just half remembered hearing about a jellyfish with a name like that and since it didn't seem like mushrooms made sense...
Yeah, I'm 100% on jellyfish now.
But has a crime been committed? Did someone deliberately lure him into a (what's the collective noun for a group of jellyfish? A children's party? -- a bloom or a fluther, apparently) bloom of jellyfish. Or did someone release their fluther of pet jellyfish out into the bay knowing that Mr McPherson would be swimming there?
Or is it all just a horrible accident?
...we found that Ian Murdoch was by our side. Murdoch was the mathematical coach at the establishment, a tall, dark, thin man, so taciturn and aloof that none can be said to have been his friend. He seemed to live in some high abstract region of surds and conic sections, with little to connect him with ordinary life.
I get that I'm supposed to be suspicious of this man, but I know enough mathematicians and have done enough maths myself that I immediately love him and will not hear a word against him. Even if he did deliberately release an entire fluther of deadly jellyfish into the sea to attack Mr McPherson, I am sure he had his reasons. They would have been entirely logical and well thought out and he could back them up by showing his working.
On one occasion, being plagued by a little dog belonging to McPherson, he had caught the creature up and hurled it through the plate-glass window
OK, no. I hate him now.
Giving mathematicians a bad name. Shame. SHAME!
What is with the dog abuse in these stories? Holmes and John Wick should have a team-up.
"Were you with him? Can you tell us what has happened?"
"Well, I constructed a catapult and then hurled jellyfish at him..."
The latter fact proved that he had made all ready to bathe, though the towel indicated that he had not actually done so.
Or, when emerging from the water covered in jellyfish stings, he decided that drying himself off was less important than finding help. Maybe. Possibly.
And the reason for his change of purpose had been that he had been scourged in some savage, inhuman fashion
Emphasis on inhuman.
Who had done this barbarous deed?
Good luck getting the cuffs on the perpetrator.
Stackhurst was, of course, still there, and Ian Murdoch had just arrived with Anderson, the village constable, a big, ginger-moustached man of the slow, solid Sussex breed—a breed which covers much good sense under a heavy, silent exterior.
That's closer to a Watsonian description, but honestly, it's not insulting enough.
I will be there, you may be sure.
MAUDIE.
Alas, poor Maudie, she knew him, Holmes.
...nothing had been found in the small caves below the cliff, but he had examined the papers in McPherson's desk and there were several which showed an intimate correspondence with a certain Miss Maud Bellamy, of Fulworth.
Also alas, poor Maudie, her private letters are being read by random guys she's never met. Let's hope they weren't too intimate.
Reasons not to be murdered: people look through all your stuff. Yikes.
"Ian Murdoch held them back," said he. "He would insist upon some algebraic demonstration before breakfast. Poor chap, he is dreadfully cut up about it all."
We're definitely supposed to suspect Mr Murdoch, puppy pitcher. Not sure how he'd commit murder by jellyfish though. I'm guessing my catapult idea wouldn't be ideal, and if you're going to release a bloom of jellyfish you've got to first keep the jellyfish somewhere. Does he have a saltwater aquarium in his rooms?
"I seem to remember your telling me once about a quarrel over the ill-usage of a dog."
"That blew over all right."
"But left some vindictive feeling, perhaps."
"No, no, I am sure they were real friends."
I've never had a dog, but I feel like if someone got mad at you and then threw your dog through a window, you'd be kind of vindictive towards them. One might even suggest vengeful. I went up to check if it was through an open window or literally through glass and it says 'through a plate glass window', which implies that there was a certain amount of smashed glass involved. I'm not sure how you get past that. Clearly Mr McPherson didn't care very much about his dog, either.
Fuck 'em both, I guess.
"Some human hand was on the handle of that scourge, if indeed it was a scourge which inflicted the injuries."
Ah yes, a human hand.
Yeah, I definitely spoiled this one for myself. If they do manage to come up with a way for it to be murder rather than misadventure, I'll be impressed. Jellyfish catapult is always a possibility.
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There's something healing about drawing characters in various states of rage.
Closeups, because lineart is linearting:
I like to think I improved lol.
#traditional art#luigi#mario#bowser#princess peach#bowuigi#mareach#expressions#mario au#my au#ao3 stuff#yes Bowser has more floof. At this point I should just commit and give him the lion mane I want him to have lol#mario: What did you just say??#Luigi: I know you didn't just go there.#Peach: Wanna repeat that dear?#Bowser: You have two seconds.
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Letters From Watson Liveblog - Dec. 27
The Lion's Mane, Part 2 of 2
It's funny that Murdoch gets fired now, for simply not answering his boss' question outside of work, but when he defenestrated a dog? No that was fine, who even cares about that.
Tom Bellamy is a nothing character, but from this line and one before about him "starting from nothing," you can tell he's a real hypocrite for not wanting his daughter to marry someone "outside her own station" when he himself was evidently quite poor at one point.
What does this mean for Holmes? Does he mean conversations with his housekeeper altogether? Or just ones about local gossip? If it's the latter then it makes sense he wouldn't care, but if it's the former then it's just rude.
Poor dog. First it gets defenestrated, then its master befriends its defenestrator, and now it seemingly died an extremely painful death. What an unfortunate life for this dog that doesn't even get a name.
The reveal that the murderer all along was a jellyfish is really funny to me. I love that Holmes, after having fought and captured so many murderers, has to solve a case where the killer is just a non-local animal. It's a shame they decided to kill it.
Ah Holmes, humble as ever.
Not exactly a mystery the reader could readily solve, but still a fun story with some insight into Holmes' retirement.
Part 1 - Part 2
#letters from watson#the lion's mane#sherlock holmes#john h watson#harold stackhurst#ian murdoch#maud bellamy#tom bellamy#william bellamy#fitzroy mcpherson#sudbury#blount#inspector bardle#arthur conan doyle#liveblogging sherlock holmes
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Still cannot believe this mistake wasn’t caught by anyone 😭 🦁
Batman/Superman: World’s Finest
#dick grayson#boy wonder#lions#batman/superman: world's finest#dc comics#dc comic art#comics#comic book art#comic books#travis moore#dc comics art#comic art#a rare maned female or editor incompetence? you decide!
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This is probably because I grew up watching 24/7 animal planet, but what finally made the allo/aplatonic thing click for me were the nature's of big cats.
Lions are powerful, regal creatures who are uniquely adapted to pack life. They need these connections to live a healthy life; A lonely lion is a miserable creature indeed.
Jaguars are solitary, beautiful creatures who live happily solitary. They prowl their lush world with self-sufficient majesty. A jaguar is not lonely without a pack. In fact, forcing jaguars to share space with others they do not enjoy is just as damaging as forcing a lion to live alone.
A lion may choose to head out on it's own for the most part, but in the end must return to the pack to thrive. A jaguar can choose to trust and enjoy the company of others, but they never feel the need to form a pack.
Is a jaguar selfish for this? A psychopath, a narcissist or any other such horrid assumptions? Is it a less moral creature than a lion, who seeks others like it to thrive?
Is a lion pathetic, or needy, or selfish for wanting community? For requiring contact with others like they require water? For their inherent need to string complicated webs of relationships that may seem silly or dramatic to others?
Of course not. These are ridiculous questions to even ask.
They are simply lions and jaguars.
In fact, is a jaguar that chooses to spend time with you not as magical as a lion's love? For a creature that needs no bond to thrive to still enjoy your presence enough to share it a time? Is a lion who can prowl the night alone not impressive in its strength and resilience? Is it not awe-inspiring in its ability to conquer a life it was never wired for and reign still?
Are they not both beautiful and awe-inspiring in their own ways, without being wrong?
Alloplatonics. Aplatonics. Are we not both special and beautiful in both our bonds and self-confident happiness equal, in each our ways? Is there not unique beauty in lifelong bonded packs and magical encounters that need no perpetuity to carry life forward?
Are we not but lions and jaguars? Neither wrong, neither selfish, but just different and beautiful creatures in each our ways?
That's how I've come to see it, anyway.
#lgbt#aspec#lgbtqa+#asexual#aromantic#aroace#loveless#aplatonic#alloplatonic#animals#I woke up at like 3 in themmorning to write this so I apologise for weird wording#I'm not awake enough to go hunting for the videos but if you want to see more about the equal majesty and difference in cats bonding#I suggest looking up Kevin Richardson's work with lions and panthers#I love animals. I hope I didn’t come off as degrading to anyone by using them as comparison#I can assure you the association only carries the deepest respect from me.#anyway all the aro discourse floating about made me think of this issue again#and how explaining allo/a-platonic needs has been a difficult task in the past#you're all valid no matter your labels or shapes or spots or manes#remember that when an orientation you don't understand comes to the lgbtable your job isn't to test them#it's to make room
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