#circular migration

[figuringoutstill]

"These workers, who cannot even dream of ever building their own house in Delhi or Noida, come here leaving behind their dying agriculture and crafts. It is their labour that makes it possible for the residents of the city to experience safety in their homes, with home deliveries and travel. Ironically the same workers are left feeling not just unsafe and unwelcome but also as if they are the ones from whom the safety of the residents has to be ensured by making their spaces “gated”... ... the discourse of “safe cities” invisibilises the work that goes into making them safer, excludes those who put in this work and then goes ahead into turning them into convenient “others”.

@bakaity-poetry (Ankur Jaiswal)

[beeapocalypse]

article mentions one way butterfly Emigration as opposed to the monarch butterfly Migration and then when i try to look that up there is absolutely no solid information on it. sad

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Choose One" Sinners Fic Teaser

Choose One by Uzumaki Rebellion

Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore and Elias "Stack" Moore' (aka Smoke and Stack in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners") Lena Blackwell (OC).

Warning(s): Mentions of Hoodoo, Explicit Sex, Supernatural Elements, Romance, Some Violence, Polyamory, and Angst. Pre-Sinners movie.

Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.

Author's Note:

The rest of this will go up late Sunday night. It is Pre-Sinners movie so nothing is spoiled. (I haven't seen the movie yet anyway!)

"Empty his pockets (see-line)

And wreck his days (see-line)

Make him love her (see-line)

And she'll fly away (see-line)"

Nina Simone – "See-Line Woman"

She fucked them both.

Smoke and Stack.

Seducing the twin brothers was easy, but confusing at the start.

She met Stack first. The gold in his teeth gleamed in the light of the Sunset Café, one of the most popular Black and Tan clubs in the Bronzeville section of Chicago. Lena Blackwell worked behind the bar instead of the floor, where jam packed circular tables faced an at- capacity dance floor moving to the sounds of the latest jazz band snazzed up in tuxedos.

Although the Sunset Café advertised itself as a supper club and a popular music venue, people along the stroll knew it was a higher class speakeasy. Unlike other clandestine establishments with secret code words whispered to get in and concealed entrances to deceive law enforcement and politicians, the Sunset owners paid off low-salaried policeman to look away. Their mob ties kept money in the right pockets to warn of raids and shakedowns from other gangsters. People wanted liquor and any other spirits they could get their hands on in a city that was supposed to be as dry as the Sahara.

Stack slithered over to the far end of the long polished mahogany table with a toothpick wedged between his gums. For over twenty minutes, he rapped to her while she tried to keep the prohibited drinks flowing.

"You should come work for me," he said, sizing her up with blatant lust in his bold brown eyes.

"I'm not a whore for you to put on the stroll, mister. Order another drink or leave me be."

He gave her a crooked grin with his sexy lips, then admired her perfectly coiffed hairdo styled with pin curls and slathered in Sweet Honey Brown pomade. Lena cut him to the quick.

"I know a pimp when I see one," she snapped, mixing drinks for one of the female servers.

"I ain't mean it like that baby. This is a legit business proposition. I'ma go back home and open a juke. I need a talented drink mixer such as yoself."

His delta accent was raspy and thick like overcooked grits. He was one of them sorry souls who migrated from the dirty south. She wondered if his feelings got hurt when he discovered the north was no different than the low down red necks he ran away from.

"Mmm hmm," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm serious. Think about it. Lemme have some cold water," he said.

Lena reached down into a false shelf and poured Stack some high grade illegal moonshine. She slid the glass to him and he guzzled it down.

"Stack!"

Lena tilted her head to see the caller.

Well, damn.

The head of the Bronzeville syndicate gestured toward Stack. Ernie Miller, the Black godfather of the south side, was wide in the gut and built low to the ground like a bulldog. A dangerous cat, who carried a switchblade known to cut throats on a whim.

Stack slid a fat wad of cash out of his pocket and laid a crisp twenty on the counter.

"Keep the change for your tip," he said, winking at her.

The change from his tab would cover her rent for two months.

He stuffed the rest of his money in his pocket where a shiny set of brass knuckles dangled and left the bar to join Ernie. For the first time, Lena took notice of Stack's finely tailored brown suit and the sharp creases in his pants. He had syndicate connections. A gangster. And a good tipper. She watched him enter a secret door in the back and never saw him again that night.

Two days later, as she started work at the bar, she spotted Stack nursing a drink at the far end, listening to an older barfly chat away to him. He drained the last of what was in his glass and Lena offered him some cold water.

Stack looked at her in confusion and shook his head in the negative.

She worked her shift, expecting Stack to hit on her at the bar again, like most men did.

He didn't.

"Cat got your tongue tonight, mister?" she teased, wiping down a spill near his arm from another patron.

He stared at her and then turned away to watch chorus girls tear up the Black Bottom dance in short dresses. Maybe she'd been too curt for him last time, and he took the hint. Ironically, that made her take a sudden interest.

He was tall, fine-looking, and a sharp dresser. She wondered if he smelled as good as he looked. Her eyes stayed on him until he wandered off to take an empty seat next to Ernie in a far left corner with some other broad-shouldered men.

"What was he drinking?" she asked another bartender.

Max, a reed-thin high yella man with a nasally voice, glanced at her.

"A South Side and the last glass was some Smoke."

"Eww, he likes that Smoke shit? That could kill him," she said, crinkling her nose.

"Them ex soldiers like that cloudy fuel alcohol."

"How you know he's an ex soldier?"

Max held out his hand and wiggled it.

"His hands. They shake a little bit. Lotta them war boys came back messed up."

Lena couldn't imagine the jovial man she met the other night acting shell-shocked. She reached under the bar and grabbed some gin. Adding some lime, sugar, and a bit of mint, she made a fresh glass of South Side.

"I'll be right back," she said.

Her heels click-clacked on the floor and she passed several raucous tables enjoying the floor show. Ernie had stepped away to talk to some people two tables over. She placed the South Side in front of the ex soldier.

"Thought you might enjoy this better than that rot gut you were drinking earlier," she said.

He glanced down at the drink and a slow smile raised the corners of his lips. No gold on his teeth. She studied his features, his hair, and the large build of his body. This had to be the same man.

"What they call you around here?" she asked.

"Smoke."

"Not Stack?"

He showed more teeth and some dimples.

"No. Just Smoke."

He had a twinkle in his eye and he chuckled softly.

"Where you from?" she asked.

"Mississippi."

"You really opening a juke down there?"

He squinted at her, but before he could answer, Ernie returned.

"Let's go," Ernie said, grabbing his coat.

The soldier stood and brushed against her. She looked up into his eyes and shivered. He reached down for the drink she prepared for him and sipped it down in front of her.

"Thank you," he said, handing the glass back to her.

She clasped it with both hands, feeling woozy by the scent of his cologne. He grabbed his suit coat, and she glimpsed the gun in a holster strapped to him.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice soft like cotton.

Lena stepped aside and touched her forehead. The man had her breaking out in a sweat.

Two more men caught up to them near the bar and that's when she gasped, seeing double. The man who called himself Smoke greeted his twin brother Stack. Lena returned to her post and Stack peeled back his lips, showing her gold in his mouth. She ended up grinning, and he leaned an elbow on the bar.

"You look even more beautiful when you smile," Stack said.

Staring at them both, she could tell they were physically identical, but the personalities, their auras…so opposite.

One thing was for sure, seeing them together…she was smitten.

And she wanted them both.

Author's Extra Note:

Masterlist HERE.

Please support the writers in this new "Sinners" fandom. Reblog, Comment, Like, all that good shit. Black content often gets overlooked and there are too many good writers creating amazing work out here. Thank you for reading and get ready for the rest!

[specialagentartemis]

Hey, would you be willing to elaborate on that "disappearance of the Anasazi is bs" thing? I've heard something like that before but don't know much about it and would be interested to learn more. Or just like point me to a paper or yt video or something if you don't want to explain right now? Thanks!

I’m traveling to an archaeology conference right now, so this sounds like a great way to spend my airport time! @aurpiment you were wondering too—

“Anasazi” is an archaeological name given to the ancestral Puebloan cultural group in the US Southwest. It’s a Diné (Navajo) term and Modern Pueblos don’t like it and find it othering, so current archaeological best practices is to call this cultural group Ancestral Puebloans. (This is politically complicated because the Diné and Apache nations and groups still prefer “Anasazi” because through cultural interaction, mixing, and migration they also have ancestry among those people and they object to their ancestry being linguistically excluded… demonyms! Politically fraught always!)

However. The difficulties of explaining how descendant communities want to call this group kind of immediately shows: there are descendant communities. The “Anasazi” are Ancestral Purbloans. They are the ancestors of the modern Pueblos.

The Ancestral Puebloans as a distinct cultural group defined by similar material culture aspects arose 1200-500 BCE, depending on what you consider core cultural traits, and we generally stop talking about “Ancestral Puebloan” around 1450 CE. These were a group of people who lived in northern Arizona and New Mexico, and southern Colorado and Utah—the “Four Corners” region. There were of course different Ancestral Pueblo groups, political organizations, and cultures over the centuries—Chaco Canyon, Mesa Verde, Kayenta, Tusayan, Ancestral Hopi—but they generally share some traits like religious sodality worship in subterranean circular kivas, residence in square adobe roomblocks around central plazas, maize farming practices, and styles of coil-and-scrape constructed black-on-white and black-on-red pottery.

The most famous Ancestral Pueblo/“Anasazi” sites are the Cliff Palace and associated cliff dwellings of Mesa Verde in southwestern Colorado:

When Europeans/Euro-Americans first found these majestic places, people had not been living in them for centuries. It was a big mystery to them—where did the people who built these cliff cities go? SURELY they were too complex and dramatic to have been built by the Native people who currently lived along the Rio Grande and cited these places as the homes of their ancestors!

So. Like so much else in American history: this mystery is like, 75% racism.

But WHY did the people of Mesa Verde all suddenly leave en masse in the late 1200s, depopulating the whole Mesa Verde region and moving south? That was a mystery. But now—between tree-ring climatological studies, extensive archaeology in this region, and actually listening to Pueblo people’s historical narratives—a lot of it is pretty well-understood. Anything archaeological is inherently, somewhat mysterious, because we have to make our best interpretations of often-scant remaining data, but it’s not some Big Mystery. There was a drought, and people moved south to settle along rivers.

There’s more to it than that—the 21-year drought from 1275-1296 went on unusually long, but it also came at a time when the attempted re-establishment of Chaco cultural organization at the confusingly-and-also-racist-assuption-ly-named Aztec Ruin in northern New Mexico was on the decline anyway, and the political situation of Mesa Verde caused instability and conflict with the extra drought pressures, and archaeologists still strenuously debate whether Athabaskans (ancestors of the Navajo and Apache) moved into the Four Corners region in this time or later, and whether that caused any push-out pressures…

But when I tell people I study Southwest archaeology, I still often hear, “Oh, isn’t it still a big mystery, what happened to the Anasazi? Didn’t they disappear?”

And the answer is. They didn’t disappear. Their descendants simply now live at Hopi, Zuni, Taos, Picuris, Acoma, Cochiti, Isleta, Jemez, Laguna, Nambé, Ohkay Owingeh, Pojoaque, Sandia, San Felipe, Santa Clara, San Ildefonso, Tamaya/Santa Ana, Kewa/Santo Domingo, Tesuque, Zia, and Ysleta del Sur. And/or married into Navajo and Apache groups. The Anasazi/Ancestral Puebloans didn’t disappear any more than you can say the Ancient Romans disappeared because the Coliseum is a ruin that’s not used anymore. And honestly, for the majority of archaeological mysteries about “disappearance,” this is the answer—the socio-political organization changed to something less obvious in the archaeological record, but the people didn’t disappear, they’re still there.

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Pucker Up for the Sea Lamprey!

The sea lamprey (Petromyzon marinus), also known as the vampire fish, is the most famous member of the order of lampreys, Petromyzontiformes. Despite their similar appearance to eels, lampreys are actually jawless fish, and are more closely related to hagfish than eels. To add further confusion, sea lampreys actually reproduce in freshwater rivers and streams, and are only found in the ocean as adults. They are spread along the Atlantic coasts of North America and Europe, as well as the Mediterranean and Black Sea.

Sea lampreys are the largest member of the lamprey family, at an impressive 30 to 100 cm (11.8 to 39.4 in) long and weighing around 2.5 kg (5.5 lbs). They are generally olive or brownish grey, and their bodies are long and smooth. Perhaps P. marinus' most distinctive feature are their mouths, which are wide and circular with teeth arranged in a circle around the tongue and throat. When opened to attach to its prey, the mouth can stretch larger than the lamprey's head.

Vampire fish are widely known for their feeding habits. Adults are parasites that attach themselves to the sides of fish and feat on their victim's blood and tissue. But despite their fearsome appearance, P. marinus has a variety of predators as both juveniles and adults, including sturgeon, catfish, sea lions, seals, sea birds, and northern pikeminnows. Juveniles are particularly vulnerable, as they are smaller and, as deteriorates, are not equipped with the sharp teeth of adults.

Like many other fish, sea lampreys are anadromous, meaning they migrate from salt to freshwater to reproduce. From April to June, males and females travel up river to find rocky beds in which to build nests. Females lay anywhere from 30,000 and 100,000 eggs in their nest, which are then fertilized by multiple males. After mating, both parents die. The larvae take 3 to 8 days to hatch, and the young spend the next 1 to 3 years filter feeding in their home river. Once they reach maturity, they migrate back to the ocean, where they can reside for up to 5 years before returning to their spawning grounds to complete their lifecycle.

Conservation status: The IUCN has rated the sea lamprey as Least Concern. This species is invasive in the Great Lakes region of the United States. However, within its native range it is threatened by habitat degradation and over-fishing.

Photos

Paul Wilson

U.S. National Park Service

Sean Landsman

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

Let's read Eliot's single dad blog together, shall we?

About Me I'm a single dad who loves his kids and his life. I made this blog to share my day-to-day life and hopefully help out anybody out there who is also doing it on their own. Single touches the adult organ before the hassle. Single coughs! Will the device migrate near the rejected stray? His sigh solves the folded biochemistry. Father chairs a disclaimer. The circular pops the store inertia. When can another pulled table gain father? Why can't single dose the counterpart? Single walks! Beside the guns workload staggers single.

Bracing for Braces It's time for that dreaded part of growing up: braces. The set spike despairs below the class. A cumulative target bicycles next to a diagnosis. Braces retracts next to the narrative. Inside braces decides the fruit. The condemned chase opposes this inertia. Across the dominant stirs the blatant engine. Braces succeeds on top of the peer. Why won't a recorder foam underneath the incidental car? The patience bobs? Braces crafts a banana near the fast enlightened. Beside braces speculates the determined insight. Braces owns the gasp.

Truly riveting and insightful stuff

[hog-facts]

In 1922, Dutch zoologists studying wild boar migration patterns noticed a strange phenomenon they called "endless loop rooting." Once every few months, a group of hogs would enter a trance-like state and begin walking in a perfect circle, their snouts creating a continuous trench in the soil. These loops, always exactly 27 feet in diameter, could persist for up to 72 hours, with each hog following the exact path of the one in front of it. Most strangely, after the hogs finally broke formation, mushrooms would grow along the circular trench in a continuous ring, leading local farmers to call them "witch's loops." The behavior was thought to be triggered by specific alignments of underground mineral deposits affecting the hogs' spatial orientation.

[pushovermediacritic]

The Land Before Time Liveblog 4

The Land Before Time IV: Journey Through The Mists

Last Time: The Gang must have done something to piss off Dino-God, because the Great Valley (which is supposed to be a paradise) had 6 natural disasters, all in a row: earthquake, meteor shower, drought, famine, wildfire, and a flood. This cavalcade of natural disasters taught everyone an important lesson about bullying.

This Time: You know, I've actually never seen this one. My memories of 1 were pretty clear. 2 and 3 were fuzzy, but I had seen them before. I'm completely unfamiliar with 4. I'm curious to see what happens.

The Universal Logo is still not Pangaea.

We open on a slightly shorter narrator spiel this time, still introducing the concept of dinosaurs to the audience in movie 4 of a franchise about dinosaurs. The plot-relevant part happens near the end of the speech:

Narrator: "But the realm of the dinosaur was changing. The weather, the plants, and the animals were beginning to transform." *a gigantic rainstorm starts up* "Still, despite the changes happening in the outside world, life in the Great Valley remained the same."

This tracking shot is probably the best aerial view we've ever gotten of the Great Valley. And it's basically the generic fantasy isekai circular walled city with a river running through it.

I will NEVER be able to unsee that now.

Also "remained the same"? I guess we've recovered from the giant wildfire that left everyone with a limited amount of green food to eat, then? That was quick.

The movie begins proper with our regular reminder that Dinosaurs are Built Different.

Cera charges and headbutts this tree and bounces off it, but she also knocks down ALL of the leaves! Every single one! That's good progress, considering she tried headbutting a similar tree in the first movie and didn't knock any down, Littlefoot had to humor her by throwing down some leaves. Also probably not very good for the tree.

Ducky and Petrie join her to eat, but Spike is already in the leaf pile, chowing down. Meanwhile, Littlefoot chases a dragonfly through a small hole in the Great Wall to a ledge, and on the other side he sees a herd of Longnecks walking toward the Great Valley.

Interesting visual callback to the first movie, with the Longneck shadows being similar to Littlefoot's shadow he mistook for his mom. Also, Littlefoot is more pink in this movie, like in the first one. In 2 and 3 he was more brown.

Also, what is this, the third hole in the Great Wall so far? First was the one they entered from in the first movie, second was the one in the third movie they used to find the water, now this one. They made a fourth one in the second movie, but they filled that one in, so I don't count it. Still, the Great Wall isn't nearly as airtight as it's hyped up to be. And the adult herbivores can come and go as they please by just walking up and down some stone ramps, as we saw last movie.

The rest of The Gang join Littlefoot and discuss the herd briefly. Littlefoot goes to tell his grandparents, who are washing their heads in a waterfall. They already know about the herd of Longnecks, and Grandma starts licking Littlefoot to make him clean and presentable for them. They are a migrating herd, and Littlefoot's "cousins".

As they start to leave, however, Grandpa feels faint and leans against a wall.

He recovers quickly and says that he's fine. Littlefoot brushes it off but Grandma stays concerned until he insists he's okay.

I'm sure this is relevant to something in this movie, but I'm honestly surprised this hasn't happened sooner. In the last two movies, Grandpa did a lot of running around and fighting. Hell, he did the MOST Sharptooth fighting in both movies! He fell down a cliff! Supposedly, he's an old man, but this is the first time we've seen age affecting either him or Grandma.

The other Longnecks arrive in the Valley and their leader, a female elder just called "Old One", questions Littlefoot's grandparents about the climate and land. They're confused but answer that everything's fine here. Old One comments that could change soon, and Cera makes fun of her. Old One says that things are changing everywhere. For some reason, this really sets off the crowd of dinosaurs that have gathered, they all gasp and whisper in hushed tones about "changes".

Littlefoot's Grandma: "Old One, are you saying changes will happen here, too?"

Old One: "I don't know. All I do know is that once, our land was just like yours." *flashback* "Then, water fell from the sky for weeks on-end. Our land grew wet and soggy. Strange creatures began to make their home on what was once dry land. Other creatures moved into the trees that were our source of food. The once green land we had migrated across for years had become... the Land of Mists."

The "strange creature" in question:

That is a Deinosuchus. A giant relative of modern alligators, averaging 30 feet in length. The "other creatures" mentioned to be in the trees are just shown as some eyes, kept in mystery.

Elder: "We had no choice but to leave."

Littlefoot's Grandma: "Does this mean that you and your herd will be staying with us, Old One?"

Old One: "We stay in no place very long. You and the other Great Valley Longnecks may join us when we leave. After all, there is safety in numbers."

Littlefoot is concerned about migrating, but Grandpa says they won't. The Gang are relieved to hear Littlefoot won't be leaving because they would miss him. Cera is too cool to admit it, though, so she makes them chase her to find out. While chasing, Littlefoot loses track of Cera and then gets messed with by a new giggling girl.

After some shenanigans, they meet properly. This is Ali. Elsewhere, Petrie and Ducky have cornered Cera in a bush with two sticks and then Spike exposes her by eating the bush. She admits that she'd miss Littlefoot.

Ducky: "Hey, look! There are two Littlefoots!... Feets?"

The Gang realize that Ali is a girl, not another Littlefoot. Not sure how they can tell by appearance alone, she looks exactly the same, just slightly darker pink. They even have the same eyelashes, which is usually cartoon shorthand for "girl".

The Gang all introduce themselves. Ducky's line is interesting, this is the first acknowledgement in the series that Spike not talking has gone past the point of being justified by his age, and thus now needs to be justified some other way:

Ducky: "And I am Ducky. And this is my brother Spike."

Spike: "Heeh."

Ducky: "He cannot talk like us, oh no." *Spike nods* "But he still says hello!"

So, first confirmation in-series that Spike is mute, not just too young to talk. He definitely understands language, he reacts to the things people say. But he just can't talk. I remember Spike being one of my first exposures to mentally disabled representation in media. While I'm not mute myself, I am Autistic and I have interacted with non-verbal people in various special needs programs. I always liked Spike's portrayal, and I still like it today.

But Ali is not that enthusiastic to meet them. In fact, she's scared. Petrie jokes about being scary and puffs himself up. This is also a behavior we've seen from him in previous films, he asked Chomper to teach him how to be scary and tried to puff himself up against the bullies. Petrie's got a bit of a complex regarding his height. But then Cera joins in acting scary and Ali is so frightened she hides under Littlefoot.

Littlefoot scolds Cera, then tries to reassure Ali that his friends are actually nice. She whispers to him that they're not Longnecks like we are, then excuses herself and runs away.

Interesting! After Cera's father's character development last movie, I was worried we'd toppled the load-bearing pillar of the racism theme, and that would just stop being a theme altogether from now on in this franchise. But nope, here's Ali (and presumably the other Longnecks in the migrating herd who taught her this) to keep it going, at least for this movie.

Cera: "Humph! She's not scared! She's stuck-up! Who needs her?! Come on!"

I think that's a little bit of a misread, but it's not entirely wrong. The rest of The Gang decides to leave, but Littlefoot hesitates. Turns out, Ali didn't actually leave. She whispers to him, hiding behind a nearby tree. He asks her if she changed her mind, but she looks down, sullen. Ali then decides to lighten the mood by making a bunch of silly faces.

I don't know if these faces are all that great, but they make Littlefoot ROFL, so I guess they worked. The Gang hears Littlefoot laughing and looks back to see them.

Cera: "If Littlefoot would rather play with her, than he's not our friend!"

Petrie and Ducky: "What?!"

Wow, that's a big switch-up for little miss "Littlefoot will always be my friend" from last movie. Despite their objections, The Gang leaves.

Later, Littlefoot and Ali are playing in a pond and Littlefoot realizes that he left his other friends behind. He looks for them, but it's getting late and it's time to go to bed anyway. The two return to the Longneck herd to find Littlefoot's grandpa collapsed on the ground.

As an aside, I think this scene is the first time in the franchise the characters have spoken the word "dinosaur".

Old One has seen this before. He's got a fever, and the only prescription is More Cow Bell eating the Golden Petals of the Night Flower. The only place to find it is in The Land of Mists.

Grandma's ready to go, but none of the Longneck herd are willing to accompany her and leave. Ali wants to help out, but her mother takes her away. Then, Grandpa wakes up and makes Littlefoot promise that if something happens to him, he and Grandma will leave with the migrating herd. Grandma tells Littlefoot to go to bed and she sings song 1 of the movie, Grandma's Lullaby.

And, uh, if you don't want to watch the entire proceeding scene, skip to 3:20 in the video.

This song is great. Like, it gets a little repetitive at points, but that's one of my only critiques. It really breaks down what the Circle of Life means as a metaphor, the visuals showing parents and children of all different types of life are really poignant (I especially love the spiderlings ballooning away), the melody is good, the flow is interesting at points, and the thematic imagery of the lyrics is really evocative.

And I REALLY love how it ends with Grandma weeping. It shows that she's not just singing this song to reassure Littlefoot, but also herself. This is one of my favorite songs in the franchise so far.

That said... I do have another critique. Not just of the song, but of this scene as a whole. And that's that there's no acknowledgement whatsoever that Littlefoot's mom died in the first movie, this is the second time he's going through something like this. None of the sequels have even mentioned her so far, but not mentioning her here feels ESPECIALLY egregious.

Anyway, back to the movie, Littlefoot can't sleep. And he decides to sneak off to find the Night Flower. Littlefoot wakes up Ali and asks her to tell him the way to The Land of Mists. She doesn't want to tell him because it's too dangerous to go alone. Littlefoot is planning to go with The Gang, but he wasn't planning to bring her since she doesn't like them. Ali will go with him, but on the condition that he doesn't bring The Gang because "they'll slow us down". Littlefoot hesitates, but Ali takes the decision out of his hands by insisting that she knows the way, not them, and they have to leave right now. The two run off.

Next day, Petrie and Ducky are exhausted from looking for Littlefoot.

Cera: "Oh, he's probably just hiding from us so he can play with that dumb ol' Ali. Oh, LiTtLeFoOt, i'M aFrAiD! YoUr FrIeNdS aRe SOOO sCaRy! KeEp ThEm AwAy, kEeP tHeM aWaAaAaY!"

The other kids crack up laughing. But when they hear Littlefoot's grandma calling out for him, they realize the situation is serious. But Grandma knows her grandkid, she's afraid he went to go find the Night Flower.

Meanwhile with the Longneck kids, they're trudging through a desert and Ali reveals that she only sorta knows where they're going because her herd moves around so much she forgets where she's been. But Littlefoot doesn't really have a choice, so they keep moving on. The two eventually reach a waterfall with a double rainbow.

THIS is a memorable landmark, for sure! Ali remembers the way now, it's through that cave next to the waterfall. But there's deep water in the cave that Ali's mom carried her over before, so Littlefoot suggests they explore the cave for another way. The two Longnecks don't know they're being watched by the Deinosuchus we saw earlier and...

A BIRD?! A BIRD. THAT'S A BIRD! UH, HEY MOVIE, I know you're from 1996, but birds evolved from dinosaurs, they didn't really co-exist at the same time!

What does Wikipedia have to say about this?... Oh. Well, then. Egg on my face. Apparently, that's an Ichthyornis and they actually did exist in the time of the dinosaurs, approximately 30 million years before the meteor hit. The exact time period isn't that significant, most of The Gang's species didn't coexist at the same time anyway.

Ichthyornis looked like this:

That's REALLY close to what's depicted in the movie. Okay then.

Once again, I'm pleasantly surprised by the prehistorical accuracy these 90s direct-to-VHS kids movies have. I really just assumed they half-assed these sequels more than they actually did.

I guess this is what they meant by "changes". The meteor theory wasn't widely accepted in the 90s, so the prevailing theory for the extinction of the dinosaurs was just that the weather got real fucky for no reason and they couldn't keep up, and I guess that's what this movie is hinting at. That's simultaneously really dark and really funny, since we've got 10 more sequels to go, we can't have the apocalypse just yet.

The two Longnecks reach a cliff in a wide open part of the cave.

Littlefoot: "Iii... think we'd better go back!"

Echo: "Go back, go back, go back, go back..."

Ali: "What was that?"

Littlefoot: "I don't know, but I think he wants us to go. WHO ARE YOU?"

Echo: "Who are you, who are you, who are you..."

Littlefoot: *gulp* "I'M LITTLEFOOT!"

Echo: "I'm Littlefoot, I'm Littlefoot, I'm Littlefoot..."

Ali: "You can't be down there if you're up here, can you?"

Littlefoot: "I don't think so."

This is a funny scene, kids getting confused by echoes. Especially the Ali line at the end, that was like a modern-day surrealist internet punchline.

All this yelling triggers an Earthshake and tons of stalactites fall! The kids run for their lives but a wall of rocks comes down between them and Littlefoot is trapped in the cave. Ali decides to run for help.

Back at the Great Valley, Grandma explains the situation to The Gang. Cera still thinks he might be playing with "what's her name", but Grandma retorts that Ali's missing too, they're probably both out searching for the Night Flower. Ducky offers to go find them, and Grandma orders them to promise her they won't go. All four of them "promise" while crossing fingers behind their backs (well, Petrie and Ducky cross their fingers, Cera and Spike just cross one back leg over the other).

After The Gang leave, Cera starts ranting.

Cera: "The more I think about it, the madder I get! Littlefoot should've asked us to go with him, but nooooo, he wanted to go alone with his new friend!"

Petrie: "Yes, his new friend!"

Ducky: "Maybe Littlefoot thought we would not want to go? Maybe."

Cera: "HAH! Well, maybe I changed my mind! Maybe I don't wanna go after Littlefoot after all!"

Ducky: *gasp* "Cera!"

Cera: "Ooh, besides, who even knows where that dumb ol' Land of Mists is anyway? I'm sure the grown-ups aren't gonna tell us!"

Cera's clearly having a hard time grappling with the feeling of jealousy, she's flip-flopping on what she even wants. Petrie's just been mindlessly parroting what Cera says about Ali, he's turning into Nod. And Ducky, as the oldest and the big sister of the group, always tries to keep the peace, but that only inspires Cera to rant harder.

Then Ali arrives through some tall grass, yelling their names. Cera demands to know where Littlefoot is, but that scares Ali and she can't explain clearly, so she just rambles something about a cave-in and tells them to come with her. The others are ready to go, but Cera thinks she made the story up, putting them at an impasse. Ducky asks Spike what he thinks, and he gives Ali this great intense glare of skepticism.

After a few seconds of mental deliberation, he decides to go with her and that's good enough for Ducky and Petrie. Not for Cera, though. She just yells "OOOOOO" a few times and turns her back to pout.

Back with Littlefoot, after failing to clear the rocks and call for help, he decides to find another exit. In a room with skylights, he's stalked from behind and taken by surprise by this old turtle guy named Archie, who immediately loses all intimidation factor.

Archie is an Archelon, from the same minds that brought you Hyp, Mutt, and Nod. The sequels may not half-ass the research, but they do half-ass the names. He was actually trying to scare Littlefoot to keep him on his toes, since the cave is dangerous. Weird.

Ali leads Ducky, Petrie, and Spike to the waterfall, which has been downgraded from two ranbows to one. On the other side of the wall, Littlefoot gets Archie to help moving the rocks.

And now we're finally, properly, introduced to our villains for the movie, who've been lurking in the background for so long. Dil is a female Deinosuchus, and Ichy is a male Ichthyornis. They immediately jump into singing song 2 of this movie, Who Needs You.

Okay, this song kinda rules? It's styled like a classic Broadway argument song (reminiscent of Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better), and it's really fast-paced. The lyrics are really fun, creative, and surprisingly edgy at points. The flow is immaculate, and some of the back-and-forth burns are actually sick. And the character animation, especially on Dil, is great. And yes, that is Tress McNeille playing Dil, AKA Dot Warner, Babs Bunny, and the modern Daisy Duck. Apparently she was in the last two movies, too (as Ducky's mom), but I didn't even notice. This is her in her element.

This is definitely the best villain song so far, it's way better than Eggs and When You're Big (and Standing Tough if we count that). It's structurally similar to Eggs, but the two villains are actually bouncing off each other in a genuinely entertaining way. So far, this movie is 2 for 2 on great songs.

I also like how these two demonstrate a real phenomenon in nature. They're clearly referencing the (apparently fake?!?!?!) reports of crocodiles with teeth-cleaning plover birds, but their actual relationship is closer to that of wolves and ravens, where the bird leads the large predator to prey, the large predator takes it down, and then shares the carcass with the bird. That doesn't quite make sense, crocodiles are ambush predators, not pursuit predators, but whatever.

I wish these two were in the movie more. I wish we had seen them interact before now, at the halfway point of the film. This song is fantastic in isolation, but I don't know how well it works as an introduction. I think it would have been better if we had a little more set-up before they do a big break-up song. Maybe the writers didn't have confidence in these two as interesting villains since they're not dinosaurs.

After the song, Ichy spots Littlefoot and Archie pushing rocks, and he calls Dil back over. Littlefoot and Archie actually manage to push a large boulder, but it's barely a scratch on the giant cave-in wall.

Littlefoot then hears his friends on the other side, trying to dig him out from their end. Spike dislodges a keystone rock and triggers a small rockslide, which Littlefoot hears on the other side. He's worried for his friends, but then Ichy flies in, leading Dil to them. Littlefoot and Archie run past her, and Littlefoot hides in a crevice while Archie tucks into his shell in a nearby pool. Dil walks right past them, and Ichy redirects her to Littlefoot's hiding spot, but her mouth is too small to fit, so she starts tail-whipping the surrounding wall.

Dil's tail whips actually crack the wall and make stalactites fall. On the other side of the cave-in, the other kids can feel the earth shaking from her tail whips and hear her roaring. The kids are worried for Littlefoot, but then Cera shows up and explodes a rock with a headbutt. The Gang works together to really clear the rocks, and Ali wants to help, but Cera just tells her to stay out of her way.

Dil manages to break the wall with her tail and reach Littlefoot, but before she can bite down, Archie steps in her way. She slaps him down and then tail whips. But before her tail hits, Littlefoot hops on Archie, and Dil's tail whip launches Archie in his shell like a hockey puck. They chase after, but on the other side, Cera rears back and charges for one mighty headbutt and HOLY SHIT!

CERA, WHAT THE HELL!!! Exploding one rock is one thing, but exploding an entire WALL of rocks is INSANE! I can't believe the power-scaling has only gotten CRAZIER in this franchise, Cera is legit strong enough to fight some Marvel Superheroes at this point! And remember, she's like 2 feet long and Dil is 30 feet long.

One of the bigger rocks from this blast falls on Dil's head, knocking both her and Ichy out cold! Those are big rocks! Seriously, someone add this to Cera's vs battle wiki page, this is a crazy feat.

Littlefoot climbs up the wall to the hole Cera made and reunites with The Gang. He thanks Ali for going to get them, and there's a neat moment, completely free of dialogue, where it looks like she's starting to warm up to them, but then she looks down, Cera looks mad, and Littlefoot sighs in disappointment.

Archie: "Hello! We gotta get moving before that Big-Mouth Belly-Dragger and her Sharp-Beaked Friend wake up!"

Ducky, Petrie, and Ali: "Who's he?"

Littlefoot: "I'll explain later. Now, come on!"

In another room, Littlefoot explains what happened to The Gang. Cera takes full credit for the save, and says that he should have asked his real friends to help him find the Night Flower. Archie asks what's up, and Littlefoot explains the situation with his grandpa. Archie leads them through a shortcut to the Land of Mist. He tells them to stick together from now on (Cera just says "humph" at Ali in response), and says goodbye.

The kids exit the cave, and we get our first look at the Land of Mist Valley of Mists.

Not sure why they changed the name, but it looks cool. The kids descend and Ali warns them not to get lost. Cera takes point until a salamander walks across her feet and she runs in a panic, immediately getting lost.

The mist clears only for the kids to have to take cover from a huge pack of Stuthiomimuses (same exact design as Ozzy and Strut), then they get caught in the middle of two Pachycephalosauruses dueling (we saw those in the first movie). Then it starts raining and the kids (minus Cera) take shelter under a tree. A tree full of MICE! One falls out and lands on Spike, and the kids scream and avoid it as it runs for cover in a flowerbed.

Spike recognizes what went over the other kid's heads, that mouse was just as scared as they were. He goes over to it and makes friends with it.

It hugs Ducky and she names it "Tickles", because of its ticklish fur. Littlefoot asks Tickles if it's seen Cera, and it climbs a tree to show Petrie which direction she is.

Cera is curled up on a ledge over a river. They call out to her and she looks up to see Petrie, but then the ledge collapses and she falls in the rushing river. Ducky throws her a vine and the kids try to pull her out, but then Dil and Ichy show up (thanking them for showing them the shortcut) and Ichy bites the vine to break it.

The Gang throws a hail of small rocks down at Dil and Ichy while Ali decides that she's gonna be the hero this time! She's gonna save Cera! Littlefoot warns her the riverbank wall is too steep, but she's got thi-

Ali immediately trips, tumbles down the wall, and gets knocked out. Ichy then diverts Dil to target her.

Ali does manage to wake up just in time to dodge a swoop from Ichy straight into that tree behind her. She then jumps on Dil's back and despite Dil bucking and swerving to get her off, Cera manages to grab onto Ali's tail and then both of them jump off Dil's back when she collides with that same tree. Dil and Ichy start arguing while Cera thanks Ali and reassures The Gang that they're friends now.

As the kids walk, Ali explains that she never knew anyone besides other Longnecks, but now she understands that diversity is important. She then sings song 3: It Takes All Sorts.

It's pretty decent. Better than just okay, but not as good as the other two songs here. It's definitely the most overt anti-racism, pro-diversity song so far in this series. It's a good message, but a good message cannot carry a song on its own. The wordplay of the verses is kinda clever at points, but aside from that, it's really repetitive.

And unlike Grandma's Lullaby, the animation doesn't demonstrate the message at all. It would be more effective if they were constantly running into small obstacles during the song that require The Gang's unique and diverse talents to deal with. Like a rock for Cera to break, splitting paths for Petrie to fly over and tell them which way to go, a water section for Ducky, etc.

Back with Dil and Ichy, Dil bites Ichy out of the tree he embedded himself in, scaring the hell out of him. The animators must have died laughing at this frame, because they hold on it for like 5 seconds.

It is pretty good.

Hours later, they're still searching for the kids and they're tired. Ichy decides to get some shut-eye while Dil keeps searching, despite her poor eyesight. Without him to play look-out, Dil sleepily runs into tree after tree.

The Gang are also still walking, looking for the Night Flowers. Ali admits that she's never actually seen them before, so she's not exactly sure what to look for. The Gang decide they're tired and go to sleep in a field of buds. Wait, buds?

The clouds expose the moon and the buds open!

Who would have guessed the Night Flowers would bloom at night? Thankfully, Spike wakes up, and his reaction when he realizes what he's looking at is GREAT.

Spike wakes up Ducky and then she wakes up everyone else. The Gang celebrate that they found the flowers they were looking for and can save Littlefoot's Grandpa. They carry a bouquet of Night Flowers on Spike's back, Tickles and Ducky holding them steady.

But then Ichy jumps out and calls Dil over. The kids scream and run, hiding behind a boulder. But Ichy deduces that's where they're hiding and he flies over and grabs Petrie! Dil wants to eat, but Ichy pulls Petrie out of the way and points out he's barely enough meat for him.

The two start arguing over Petrie, since they're both hungry, and when Ichy's about to bite down on Petrie, Tickles runs over and puts Dil's tail in his mouth. Dil is pissed at Ichy, and Petrie runs back to The Gang, who sneak off. Cera chuckles at the two hunters and Ichy uses that to convince Dil to go after them instead. The Gang cross a log over a river, but one Night Flower falls off Spike's back. Ducky goes back to get it, but then Ichy catches up and grabs her. Petrie flies up to pull her out of Ichy's grasp, but they both lose their grip and she falls all the way down into the river.

The impact knocks Ducky out, and Dil surfaces beneath her. She tosses Ducky up to catch her in her mouth, and everyone is yelling Ducky's name to wake her up.

Wait, everyone?

Yes, everyone.

Spike screams Ducky's name!

So, I guess Spike isn't completely mute. This tracks with him being able to make nondescript noises previously, and he clearly struggles quite a bit with just forming the word. That's what makes it for me, the rawness of it. It sounds strained, almost painful for him to do. His voice is extremely raspy, it's not a pretty or smooth yell. If it was, if he yelled her name with no issue and had a cool voice doing it, this scene would be frankly terrible. But I think the rawness sells it pretty well.

But that scream is enough for Ducky to wake up mid-air, she grabs a tree and avoids getting eaten by Dil. Dil takes a few more swipes at the tree, and Littlefoot and Cera start climbing down to save her. Ichy decides to gloat and Spike slams him with a tail-strike that launches him downward into Dil's mouth. He demands she let him out and they start arguing again and decide to split up, for good. Dil tail-whips Ichy on his way out and sends him flying over the horizon. She then makes her way forward and runs into a gigantic plesiosaur.

Which chases her off. I don't think there were any plesiosaurs that big, but I've been wrong before.

Petrie flies Ducky up and the kids reunite. They make their way back to the cave and say goodbye to Tickles. We don't see them pass Archie on the way back, so I have to assume Dil ate him when they discovered the shortcut. I'm kidding! But it is odd they don't acknowledge him.

The kids return to the Great Valley and feed the Night Flowers to grandpa, and he gets better pretty quick. He reassures Littlefoot that they can stay in the Great Valley, and Littlefoot delivers the good news to his friends, who all realize that their own parents are probably worried sick, and each return home.

Later, the migrating herd are leaving, and Ali says goodbye to The Gang, and that they'll meet again someday (though according to the wiki, Ali doesn't come back until the tv show between movies 13 and 14, and even then, just for one episode). Cera and Petrie are all bashful, and though Ducky encourages Spike to say goodbye himself, he just eats some grass.

Then the movie plays a flashback reel of all the times Littlefoot and Ali interacted and like. I get it movie. You want me to ship them. Even though the text of their relationship never went past friendship, you really want me to see romantic subtext. The narrator reassures us The Gang will meet Ali again one day, but obviously they didn't have a real plan for that, since they relegated it to the tv show.

You know, for a movie titled "Journey Through the Mists", I was expecting a lot more of it to take place IN the Land of Mists. I think we spend more time in the cave than in the Land of Mists.

I think this movie was trying to recapture the magic of the first movie. Littlefoot being more pink, more focus on Longnecks, an adventure in the Mysterious Beyond, Littlefoot's family member on death's door, Cera being more standoffish, and the whole movie flashback at the end was also something the first movie did. Not sure if they succeeded.

I was expecting this movie to be worse, since Wikipedia said it got mostly middling reviews. But I was pleasantly surprised. The songs especially are the strongest line-up of songs we've had so far, Grandma's Lullaby is great, Who Needs You is fantastic, and It Takes All Sorts is still above-average.

The story is really cliche, though, I rolled my eyes when I realized it was doing the "family member comes down with sudden illness and we need to go on an adventure to find the cure" plot. I was wondering if the movie would say that Grandpa got the disease FROM the migrating Longnecks, since that would make sense. But it never implies any such thing and Grandpa is already feeling the effects before they even get there, so it seems to just be a coincidence. And Littlefoot's mom not even being MENTIONED is a huge oversight.

Also, this movie was definitely trying to imply a love triangle between Littlefoot, Cera, and Ali without actually doing one. Partially because Cera instantly makes it weird and gross, but also because this is a kid's movie and they don't want to imply romance (even though the first movie ended with the narrator straight-up telling us that the kids will have kids of their own in the future).

Overall, Ali is fine. The writers clearly wanted me to like her more than I do (even Chomper didn't get a flashback montage), but I only like her okay. For the amount of screentime and focus dedicated to Ali, she should at least be better than Hyp. My favorite thing about her (which might have been unintentional) is that she kinda sucks. But in an endearing way, a "Tumblr Girlfailure" way. She's a prankster, silly, mildly racist out of ignorance, a coward, manipulative, forgetful, lies by omission constantly, clumsy, and panics under pressure. But she does learn and grow over the course of the story. I do really love that quiet moment where she can't quite push past her fears.

I liked Dil and Ichy much more than Ali, though I got the impression the writers had a lot less faith in them than they did in her. They don't even get any screentime in the first half. And the climax is a little weak. I liked Ichy grabbing Petrie and Ducky, but Littlefoot, Cera, and Ali basically just stand around. Petrie and Spike do almost all of the work. Also, the plesiosaur comes out of nowhere, that needed some kind of set-up.

Pros: The dialogue is still stilted, but it's a bit more witty than in 3. Same goes for the character animation, there were some good faces here. The song line-up is really strong this time. Dil and Ichy are easily the best villains the franchise has had so far. Ali continuing the racism theme is appreciated. Spike's big moment at the end was risky, but I think it worked.

Cons: The story is cliche and the first half really drags (a recurring problem I've had with the sequels, but it's worse here). The writers dedicated a lot of screentime to Ali, but she's only decent to me. Dil and Ichy don't get enough screentime, and their climax is underwhelming.

Score: I'm gonna give Journey Through The Mists a 7/10. It has higher highs and lower lows than The Time of the Great Giving, and I think that evens out to the same score. As a reminder, 7/10 just means "Good". 8 means Great and 6 means Above-Average.

The Land Before Time: 8/10 (hypothetical uncut version: 9/10)

The Great Valley Adventure: 8/10

The Time of the Great Giving: 7/10

Journey Through The Mists: 7/10

[worldssmallestlizard]

i want to ramble about panjura from path of titans a bit because it made me have interesting thoughts about map design in games

ok so for context everyone Hates this map because it is a big sprawling forest. the moment a map with more condensed/defined areas came out (gondwa) the majority of the playerbase moved to that

im not even really fond of this game anymore. like. i realized the combat aspect is not really for me and nor is the playerbase really (i pretend global chat doesnt exist its so tense). but what drew me in was that (1.) i had no idea that a game's map design could have so much attention to detail and (2.) ON TOP OF THAT BE SO BIG?? apparently the size of panjura is 8x8km. i heard through someone else that it also took 2 years to design

and i just find it really immersive in the way that you can come across a clearing of shallow trees over a brook or a rolling hill that like. stops to make you appreciate it if youre not focused on "man im fucking bored i gotta kill someone." because my friends advertised this to me 2 years ago as a game where you could just be a dinosaur lol. ive been trying to get some mileage out of it but havent found my niche yet really ive considered quitting the game a few times

and i guess like. gondwa (the alternative) does a good job at being more game-friendly. it funnels players into interactions a bit, and the ocean surrounding it shrinks the area you can wander, heightening your chances of coming across someone to fight. (when i was a new player it used to surprise me that everyone enjoys fighting) the land is divided up by rivers and cliffs, so most people are coming off of common bridges or shortcuts. you could also point to a specific area on the map and say "oh thats [region name]" because the borders are so defined. which is something you can't really do with panjura. thus, gondwa is a bit more palatable and is understandably why so many community servers use it to encourage interactions instead. EVERY area is considered a "hotspot" in its own way.

so you can sort of see why like. most people found panjura boring. the larger lake is probably one of the most notable features here, and even then this cuts off the bottom half of the map which does follow more of their uniform use of forests, cliffs, and occasional brooks/ponds. aside from some steep hills, you can otherwise make a beeline for any area you want to migrate to though. it is comparably "too big"

but thats what i fucking love about it so much. there is so much space that like the map has a kind of private aspect to it to the point that if you DO come across another player by some insane stroke of luck, it's way more memorable? and it has a feel to it like youre just going for a walk. but nobody opens a game to just take a walk. which makes it so hard to describe why i love panjura. its just very quiet and gives you more options if you want your own space to roam. theres also more freedom to be able to enter and leave areas at any point. i'd also like to make a note that people only play for the handful of designated "hotspots" around the center of the map

and after panjura got "replaced" for lack of better word there's not always much attention given to it development-wise; a lot of the regions could be redefined bc they've just always been circular (for context you get quests based on the region youre in. gondwa has irregular-shaped regions) and some of them are very incomplete, like some used to have missing quest items or currently have no quest items at all. meanwhile i wouldnt be surprised if gondwa got a bit more polishing over the year it was released. and that could very well be attached to gondwa just being newer/easier to tweak compared to panjura sticking with the game since the beginning

and thats just. it. panjura is comparatively more realistic and immersive in a careful way but thats all it really has going for it. and with the perspective of game design, palatability, guiding, consideration for the player, etc., you dont 100% know when someone is going to attempt to create something similar to it again. which makes me think about this a lot whenever i play it. it just sort of opened my eyes to what art in games COULD be versus what they thrive as

not even to say that gondwa has no aesthetic aspects to it, it just jams so many of them together though (i took none of these photos):

and like. hearing about it was really exciting. but even if you find an area to be very pretty, the awe stops for me when i roam for a bit and realize how small it is. most of these tend to abruptly end where another region begins. to enjoy a map i want to feel dwarfed by it like as if i could run in it for hours, not just enjoy a small spot and say "that was cool! next drastically different biome please." and i wonder if there are any other games that give you the freedom to roam like panjura does. it makes me sad sometimes how people just straight up call it bad/boring map design and it always made me want to dissect why

[fishenjoyer1]

Fish of the Day

Today's fish of the day is the California sheephead!

The California sheephead, as some of you who have been here since the early days will know, happens to be the first ever fish I wrote about for fish of the day back in January 2022! Known by the scientific name Bodianus pulcher, (formerly Semicossyphus), this fish is a species of wrasse in the Pacific. Found along the coast of California and Mexico, stretching from Monterey Bay California to the Gulf of California. They live along the kelp forests common in this area. Although, there are populations living along rocky reefs and sandy seabed areas. The fish are highly territorial over their home, and only settle in a very small refuge area, which they protect. These areas and the cycle of migration with the California sheephead are shaped almost entirely by light levels, as they travel between a refuge area and a foraging area throughout the day, and then when spawning these fish travel to a breeding area. This is why some issues have arisen due to overspilling light pollution by humans.

Their diet consists primarily of sea urchins, although they also prey on crustaceans, mollusks, and other fish. Their role in the ecosystem of kelp forests can not be understated, which is why the overfishing of them by humans is such a problem. This is because the overabundance of urchin in an area can decimate entire kelp forests at a rate of 30 feet a month in herds. Their diet of urchins allows these fish to get as large as 3 ft in length. Despite their large size, these fish are regularly predated on, primarily by sharks in the area. The California sheephead can warn other fish in the area of their plight however, damage released chemical cues come forth once the skin is ruptured, informing other fish in the area. These chemical cues are not always perfect however, as fish infested with parasites reduces reliability of these cues.

California sheephead, as like many wrasse, are born female and can morph into functional males throughout their lifespan, called Protogynous sex change. This change is moderated by a steroid hormone, and is undertaken by the largest and best fed individuals in an area. Sheephead are hermic spawners, and males have a group of females of which they protect and breed with. When the male for a group of females passes away, the largest female will morph into a male form and take the role. This can take anywhere between 2 weeks or several months. The mating season for these fish is between June and September, and the male will lead all his females in a circular pattern, releasing eggs and sperm. Females during this time can release as many as 130,000 to 375,000 eggs in a day, which will hatch into planktonic larvae. They will continue life as larvae for  34 to 78 days, before settling in a shallow reef and growing as normal. By the time they reach an age of 4 and a size of 10 inches, the fish are ready to spawn, although this is variable between populations. These fish can live upwards for 20 years in the wild, and as long as 50 in captivity, living through tens of breeding seasons, and producing hundreds of children.

That's the California sheephead everyone! Have a wonderful day

[mariacallous]

SUNDERBANS, West Bengal—Thirty-year-old Sita*, originally from a coastal region of Bangladesh, recalls the day Cyclone Aila struck with chilling clarity. Her house made from mud and thatch crumbled from the impact.

“It began like any other day, until a sudden shift in the air warned us of an impending disaster,” she said.

“We heard people screaming that the riverbank had broken, and the water was rapidly heading toward the village,” she recalled while sitting on the floor outside her brick-and-mortar house in the Sunderbans area of West Bengal, where she now lives. When she went back a few days later, everything had been washed away. Nothing was left of what was once her home.

“We lost everything—our home, our possessions, everything,” she recalled, her voice heavy with memory.

According to the Global Climate Risk Index 2021, Bangladesh ranks seventh in countries most affected by climate change since 2000. The World Health Organization reports that in 2022 alone, more than 7.1 million Bangladeshis were displaced as a result of it. The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change estimates that sea level rise will inundate soil with salt, reduce crop productivity, and increase poverty by 15 percent by 2030.

The issue of migration and the impacts of climate change, however, are not confined to Bangladesh alone. The Sundarbans, the world’s largest mangrove forest, shared by India and Bangladesh, lies at the heart of this mobility.

While most climate-related displacement is internal, many Bangladeshis migrate to India through porous borders. Informational circulars in the Indian Border Security Force camps on one such border in Panitar highlighted these infiltrations as a recurring issue.

The illegal nature of such movement makes it difficult to determine the exact number of Bangladeshi migrants in India. However, the Asian Development Bank states that this could be the largest international migration flow, surpassing migration across the Mexico-U.S. border.

“Migration is very frequent between Bangladesh and India, particularly from the Sundarbans area. People have friends, neighbors, and relatives there, so they cross the border—sometimes legally, sometimes illegally,” explained Md Shamsuddoha, the chief executive of the Center for Participatory Research and Development, a policy think tank in Bangladesh.

“As you call them refugees, they are not refugees that are stateless and persecuted by the government, like the Rohingyas. However, in Bangladesh, this is not the case because the government is not forcing them to leave the country. Those moving to India are crossing the border voluntarily.”

Ashok Swain, a professor and head of peace and conflict research at Uppsala University, Sweden, and the UNESCO chair of international water cooperation, highlighted the ambiguity of the term, calling it the absence of a legal framework—both domestically and internationally—that fails to recognize climate migrants as refugees. This allows both countries to overlook the issue rather than engage in a complex legal and humanitarian debate.

One of the biggest concerns regarding the issue of climate-induced migration, Shamsuddoha explained, is the denial. “The government denies that people are migrating from Bangladesh to India due to climate change.”

According to a 2010 report by the U.N. Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), estimates of Bangladeshi migrants in India vary widely. India claims there are up to 20 million illegal migrants, while Bangladesh denies any irregular migration, arguing its economy is comparable to India’s. The 2001 Indian census recorded only 280,000 Bangladeshi migrants from 1991 to 2001, though this likely excludes many undocumented movements.

The issue, Shamsuddoha added, is that many of these migrants manage to obtain Aadhaar cards, an Indian identity document, or other legal documents in India. As a result, the Indian government considers them illegal, arguing that they acquired these documents fraudulently and are Bangladeshi citizens, attempting to deport them. However, Bangladesh refuses to take them back, denying them as its citizens since they possess Indian documents.

“This is a governance issue. The Bangladeshi government sees migration to India as beneficial since people are seeking livelihoods on their own, reducing pressure on the state. Meanwhile, India views it as a source of cheap labor. These are the interests at play for both countries, in my opinion.”

India and Bangladesh’s refusal to recognize refugees under international law, coupled with their non-signatory status to the 1951 Refugee Convention, creates major obstacles to cross-border cooperation on migration. Without legal protections, climate migrants are left vulnerable, with limited rights and access to essential services. Many face human rights abuses, including trafficking, modern slavery, and inadequate access to housing, health care, and education.

The legal ambiguity surrounding climate migration between India and Bangladesh leaves vulnerable populations exposed to severe human rights challenges.

“India’s citizenship laws, such as the National Register of Citizens and the Citizenship Amendment Act, further complicate the issue, as they distinguish between migrants based on religion rather than considering climate displacement as a legitimate reason for migration. As a result, instead of recognizing and addressing climate migration through structured policies, India’s political landscape continues to treat all migration as an issue of legality and national security, making meaningful solutions for climate migrants nearly impossible,” Swain added.

While the nations argue on the verbiage, there are people like Sita and thousands of others who have lost their homes to the impacts of climate change and wonder what the future holds for them. Living deep inside the Indian state of West Bengal, one Bangladeshi migrant who arrived two years earlier hopes to assimilate rather than go back.

Sakina*, one of 13 siblings, was just 15 when her father married her off, unable to feed another mouth after his farmland became barren due to rising salinity. Then her father used all his savings to construct a new house. But when Cyclone Aila destroyed their home, the abject poverty forced the family to decide it was time for their youngest daughter to marry.

“When the cyclone came, the best houses nearby vanished, and our house was not even a house in front of those,” she recalled.

Even after marriage, Sakina couldn’t escape the wrath of extreme weather. Heavy rains frequently flooded their home, washing away their few belongings. Struggling to build a stable future, she paid an agent 6,000 rupees ($70) to help her cross into India. Today, she lives in West Bengal, posing as an Indian citizen with documents like an Aadhaar card, convinced she has finally left uncertainty behind. But she speaks in hushed tones, fearing that someone in her neighborhood might discover her true origins in Bangladesh.

The southern part of the India-Bangladesh border divides the coast and the Sundarbans. Therefore, the natural features, such as rivers, marshlands, and low-lying areas, are not suitable for installing barbed-wire fences.

Another Bangladeshi migrant, Robina*, recalled her family’s attempt to cross the border with the help of a human smuggler. He hid them in a nearby house until the following night when they finally managed to slip across, crossing a canal while hiding behind bundles of tied-together flower leaves to avoid detection.

Now she lives in another part of West Bengal, Basirhat, two hours of bumpy riding from Kolkata. Robina, originally from Satkhira in Bangladesh, moved to India two years ago in search of a better life, following a similar path to escape the relentless cycle of disaster.

India and Bangladesh share a common concern about climate change’s impact on the Sundarbans. In 2011, they signed a historic Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) that detailed actions to protect local livelihoods dependent on the ecosystem, manage the region jointly, and perform extensive research on climate change and its impact on the delta region. However, researchers claim that the only notable achievement of the MoU has been joint assessments of tigers.

Despite strong India-Bangladesh cooperation on issues like tiger conservation and water sharing, climate-induced migration remains unaddressed due to its political sensitivity. Unlike conservation efforts, which have international support, migration raises complex political, economic, and security challenges that both governments prefer to avoid, Swain said.

Shamsuddoha added that this is clearly a policy gap.

“We are working to address it as part of a regional network called Climate Action Network South Asia. We are engaging with policymakers in both Bangladesh and India to push for a common stance, ensuring that people do not suffer due to this gap or end up being considered stateless. However, the challenge remains that the Bangladeshi government continues to deny the existence of climate-induced migration to India. Similarly, the Indian government lacks a focused policy recognizing that people from Bangladesh are migrating due to climate change and displacement. This policy inertia persists on both sides.”

Michael Kugelman, Foreign Policy author and expert specializing in South Asia and the director of the South Asia Institute at the Wilson Center, said: “Given that climate change effects will be intensifying, suggesting increases in climate migrants and migrant flows into India, there’s a crying need for Delhi and Dhaka to start talking about these issues. That’s unlikely to happen at least until there are elections in Bangladesh and there’s a new government in power that India is comfortable working with.”

Illegal immigration from Bangladesh to India, including refugees and economic migrants, remains unchecked. While no exact figure exists, an analysis of population and demographic data from the 1981, 1991, 2001, and 2011 censuses suggests the number exceeds 15 million.

“You also need to mobilize media opinion and civil society while engaging directly with political stakeholders—not just the bureaucracy, but also members of parliament—so they can take a common position, perhaps even start monitoring how many people are crossing the border,” Shamsuddoha added. “If we could establish that migration is happening, it would be a step forward. But right now, both governments are in denial—Bangladesh refuses to acknowledge climate migration to India, while those who do cross over try to blend in as Indian citizens. It’s a constant game of hide and seek.”

He described India and Bangladesh’s bilateral relationship as “businesslike,” stating that despite years of alliance, the two countries have failed to address climate migration, as the interests of the Bangladeshi people were never a priority.

“The relationship between India and Bangladesh has been strong, but it did not address the real issues faced by the people. It feels more like a business arrangement—India prioritizes its interests, focusing on securing trade corridors and market access in Bangladesh, while ignoring long-standing concerns like the Teesta Barrage, Ganges water-sharing disputes, and joint climate adaptation efforts under the UNFCCC. The discussions revolve around increasing investment in Bangladesh, benefiting companies like Adani, rather than addressing the needs of the Bangladeshi people. The relationship was one-sided, serving India’s interests, while Bangladesh’s government relied on India’s support to stay in power. For the past 15 years, India has backed an undemocratic government in Bangladesh, so it will, of course, take some benefit out of it. And India did,” Shamsuddoha said.

However, Swain insisted that the politicization of the issue has made it impossible for the historical allies to find common ground vis-à-vis their climate migrant situation.

These ongoing issues of statelessness and displacement are exacerbated by the growing political and environmental tensions between India and Bangladesh. The recent political upheaval in Bangladesh, marked by the fall of the Hasina government and her subsequent refuge in India, has complicated bilateral relations between the two countries.

“The best way forward for India and Bangladesh is to recognize climate-induced migration as a shared developmental and humanitarian challenge rather than solely a security issue. Given their deep geographical, economic, and ecological ties, both countries would benefit from a common development policy that prioritizes climate adaptation, economic cooperation, and legal labor mobility to manage migration in a structured way,” Swain said.

*The names of migrants in this story have been changed to protect their privacy.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

The Many Facets of Söderfjärden

More than half a billion years ago, a meteorite struck Earth near the Antarctic Circle, leaving a divot several kilometers in diameter. In the hundreds of millions of years that followed, the movement of Earth’s tectonic plates brought that cratered piece of crust far into the Northern Hemisphere.

Today, the Söderfjärden impact crater occupies a 22 square-kilometer piece of coastal real estate in western Finland near the Gulf of Bothnia, the Baltic Sea’s northern arm. The OLI-2 (Operational Land Imager-2) on Landsat 9 acquired this image of the hexagonal-shaped crater in September 2024. The feature stretches more than 5.5 kilometers (3.4 miles) from east to west and is divided into many agricultural fields.

In its Scandinavian locale, however, Söderfjärden has not always been on dry land. During the Last Glacial Maximum, around 20,000 years ago, a thick, heavy sheet of ice covered the area and pressed the land down hundreds of meters. Now free of that weight, the land has been bouncing back with some of the highest rates of uplift, or glacial isostatic adjustment, on Earth. New ground emerges from the sea every year.

It’s only in recent centuries that the crater began to appear from beneath the water. It first manifested as a bay (Söderfjärden translates to “south bay”) where people reportedly fished for pike and perch until the 18th century. As the land continued to rise, the crater got progressively drier and eventually transitioned into a wetland area and then an inland depression.

At first, sedges and reeds thrived in the boggy ground, and people would harvest the vegetation for livestock feed. In the early 19th century, pumps were installed to drain Söderfjärden and increase its cultivatable area. Hay barns then proliferated across the crater, peaking at 3,000 in the 1940s and 1950s, according to the Söderfjärden visitor center.

Today, most of the land is used to grow cereal crops such as barley, wheat, and oats. The fields are also valuable to various bird species and famously attract thousands of common cranes during their spring and autumn migrations. Still low-lying ground, the crater continues to be pumped of water.

Söderfjärden interests planetary scientists because of its geometric shape. Some have described the Finnish crater as “the best sample of a hexagonal impact structure on Earth.” Polygonal impact craters, defined as having straight sections along their rims, are a relatively small subset of all impact structures, which tend to be circular. Nonetheless, polygonal impact craters mark the surface of planets, asteroids, and moons throughout our solar system—from Mercury to Pluto’s moon Charon. Instruments on NASA’s Voyager 2, Cassini, MESSENGER, and other spacecraft have imaged many such craters on objects in our solar system.

Scientists believe polygonal impact craters are shaped by underlying geology and that their straight segments form where structures such as faults or other fractures already exist. As a result, the shapes can provide evidence of the geologic past of planets and moons that might otherwise be hidden from view.

NASA Earth Observatory image by Wanmei Liang, using Landsat data from the U.S. Geological Survey. Photo by Timo Kyttä. Story by Lindsey Doermann.

[proton-wobbler]

Red-eyed Vireo

[image ID: a small songbird with a bright red eye. the eyeline and crown are gray, while the eyebrow is white. the throat and belly are also white, while the back is tan-olive. the bill and legs are blue. end ID]

Song:

Scientific Name: Vireo olivaceus

IUCN Rating: Least Concern

Habitat & Location: overwhelmingly common in deciduous forest across North America; overwinters across most of northern South America

Fun Fact: they seem to never stop singing-- a male can sing up to 20,000 songs per day

[image ID: a map of all of North America, as well as a large portion of South America. a large swath of North America (all but the West Coast and Southwest, as well as Mexico) are colored red, to denote breeding range. the East coast of Mexico, the Caribbean, and all of Central America, as well as most of Colombia are colored yellow, to denote the migration path. a circular area across most of northern South America is blue, to denote the overwintering range. end ID]

Image Sources: bird (Rick Bowers); map (birds of the world)

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Choose One (Chapter 1) by Uzumaki Rebellion

Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore and Elias "Stack" Moore (characters in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners"). Lena Blackwell (OC).

Warning(s): Adult language, Angst, Pre-Sinners movie.

Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist HERE.

"See-line woman (see-line)

Dressed in red (see-line)

Make a man (see-line)

Lose his head (see-line)"

Nina Simone – "See-Line Woman"

She fucked them both.

Smoke and Stack.

Seducing the twin brothers was easy, but confusing at the start.

She met Stack first. The gold in his teeth gleamed in the light of the Sunset Café, one of the most popular Black and Tan clubs in the Bronzeville section of Chicago. Lena Blackwell worked behind the bar instead of the floor, where jam packed circular tables faced an at capacity dance floor moving to the sounds of the latest jazz band snazzed up in tuxedos.

Although the Sunset Café advertised itself as a supper club and a popular music venue, people along the stroll knew it was a higher class speakeasy. Unlike other clandestine establishments with secret code words whispered to get in and concealed entrances to deceive law enforcement and politicians, the Sunset owners paid off low-salaried policeman to look away. Their mob ties kept money in the right pockets to warn of raids and shakedowns from other gangsters. People wanted liquor and any other spirits they could get their hands on in a city that was supposed to be as dry as the Sahara.

Stack slithered over to the far end of the long polished mahogany table with a toothpick wedged between his gums. For over twenty minutes, he rapped to her while she tried to keep the prohibited drinks flowing.

"You should come work for me," he said, sizing her up with blatant lust in his bold brown eyes.

"I'm not a whore for you to put on the stroll, mister. Order another drink or leave me be."

He gave her a crooked grin with his sexy lips, then admired her perfectly coiffed hairdo styled with pin curls and slathered in Sweet Honey Brown pomade. Lena cut him to the quick.

"I know a pimp when I see one," she snapped, mixing drinks for one of the female servers.

"I ain't mean it like that baby. This is a legit business proposition. I'ma go back home and open a juke. I need a talented drink mixer such as yoself."

His delta accent was raspy and thick like overcooked grits. He was one of them sorry souls who migrated from the dirty south. She wondered if his feelings got hurt when he discovered the north was no different than the low down redneck peckerwoods he ran away from.

"Mmm hmm," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm serious. Think about it. Lemme have some cold water," he said.

Lena reached down into a false shelf and poured Stack some high grade illegal moonshine. She slid the glass to him and he guzzled it down.

"Stack!"

Lena tilted her head to see the caller.

Well, damn.

The head of the Bronzeville syndicate gestured toward Stack. Ernie Miller, the Black godfather of the south side, was wide in the gut and built low to the ground like a bulldog. A dangerous cat, who carried a switchblade known to cut throats on a whim.

Stack slid a fat wad of cash out of his pocket and laid a crisp twenty on the counter.

"Keep the change for your tip," he said, winking at her.

The change from his tab would cover her rent for two months.

He stuffed the rest of his money in his pocket where a shiny set of brass knuckles dangled, and left the bar to join Ernie. For the first time, Lena took notice of Stack's finely tailored brown suit and the sharp creases in his pants. He had syndicate connections. A gangster. And a good tipper. She watched him enter a secret door in the back and never saw him again that night.

Two days later, as she started work at the bar, she spotted Stack nursing a drink at the far end, listening to an older barfly chat away to him. He drained the last of what was in his glass and Lena offered him some cold water.

Stack looked at her in confusion and shook his head in the negative.

She worked her shift, expecting Stack to hit on her at the bar again, like most men did.

He didn't.

"Cat got your tongue tonight, mister?" she teased, wiping down a spill near his arm from another patron.

He stared at her and then turned away to watch chorus girls tear up the Black Bottom dance in short dresses. Maybe she'd been too curt for him last time, and he took the hint. Ironically, that made her take a sudden interest.

He was tall, fine-looking, and a sharp dresser. She wondered if he smelled as good as he looked. Her eyes stayed on him until he wandered off to take an empty seat next to Ernie in a far left corner with some other broad-shouldered men.

"What was he drinking?" she asked another bartender.

Max, a reed-thin high yella man with a nasally voice, glanced at her.

"A South Side and the last glass was some Smoke."

"Eww, he likes that Smoke shit? That could kill him," she said, crinkling her nose.

"Them ex soldiers like that cloudy fuel alcohol."

"How you know he's an ex soldier?"

Max held out his hand and wiggled it.

"His hands. They shake a little bit. Lotta them war boys came back messed up."

Lena couldn't imagine the jovial man she met the other night acting shell-shocked. She reached under the bar and grabbed some gin. Adding some lime, sugar, and a bit of mint, she made a fresh glass of South Side.

"I'll be right back," she said.

Her heels click-clacked on the floor and she passed several raucous tables enjoying the floor show. Ernie had stepped away to talk to some people two tables over. She placed the South Side in front of the ex soldier.

"Thought you might enjoy this better than that rot gut you were drinking earlier," she said.

He glanced down at the drink and a slow smile raised the corners of his lips. No gold on his teeth. She studied his features, his hair, and the large build of his body. This had to be the same man.

"What they call you around here?" she asked.

"Smoke."

"Not Stack?"

He showed more teeth and some dimples.

"No. Just Smoke."

He had a twinkle in his eye and he chuckled softly.

"Where you from?" she asked.

"Mississippi."

"You really opening a juke down there?"

He squinted at her, but before he could answer, Ernie returned.

"Let's go," Ernie said, grabbing his coat.

The soldier stood and brushed against her. She looked up into his eyes and shivered. He reached down for the drink she prepared for him and sipped it down in front of her.

"Thank you," he said, handing the glass back to her.

She clasped it with both hands, feeling woozy by the scent of his cologne. He grabbed his suit coat, and she glimpsed the gun in a holster strapped to him.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice soft like cotton.

Lena stepped aside and touched her forehead. The man had her breaking out in a sweat.

Two more men caught up to them near the bar and that's when she gasped, seeing double. The man who called himself Smoke greeted his twin brother Stack. Lena returned to her post and Stack peeled back his lips, showing her gold in his mouth. She ended up grinning, and he leaned an elbow on the bar.

"You look even more beautiful when you smile," Stack said.

Staring at them both, she could tell they were physically identical, but the personalities, their auras…so opposite.

One thing was for sure, seeing them together…she was smitten.

And she wanted them both.

Stack usually showed up at the Sunset around nine.

Lena figured out his routine quickly because out of the two twins, Stack liked to party and be around the nightlife the most. He stood out in a crowd of men and the ladies loved him.

The Sunset Café started advertising to lure more women into the place for capitalistic gain. Originally the owners created it as a gentlemen's club, but in order to stay lucrative during prohibition, they had to open up the market to new customers, and women loved to drink.

To hide the odorous stench of bootleg hard liquor that could turn female customers away, new cocktails were created adding syrups and various fruit juices to sweeten the bitter taste. The club manager ordered all bartenders to add more cherries, orange slices, and canned chucks of pineapples in the drinks to appeal to the good-time girls who sought excitement. Especially the white ones.

White women loved the Sunset.

White men loved it too, and the forbidden allure of rubbing shoulders with negroes brought out their lascivious side. Everyone in Chicago knew that colored folks couldn't have their own entertainment spaces without white folks sniffing for some action in the mix. As much as they pretended to hate negro people, they sure couldn't stay away from them. Colored patrons and performers tickled their libidinous fantasies. The best music, the best food, and the best dancing happened on the south side where negroes were crowded together. They didn't call it Bronzeville for nothing.

Lena eyed the entrance. Stack was due to swagger through any minute.

The supper hour kept the bar less hectic as folks ate garnished devilled eggs, green beans, steaks, fried catfish, buttermilk-dipped fried chicken, with the added sides of creamy macaroni and cheese with generous slices of honey cornbread.

Max flipped through his tattered, olive-colored copy of the H.P. Dreambook. A man wearing a turban in front of a crystal ball illustrated the cover. He pestered busboys, servers, and Lena about their dreams so he could search them up in his book and find the corresponding numerical interpretation to play the numbers. Another bartender named Frank polished glasses and worked the other end of the counter.

"C'mon Lena, your turn, what you dream last night?" Max asked.

"I don't really have dreams."

"Everybody dreams. Bernice, what about you?"

Bernice scratched an itch on her prominent nose and thought about her answer while she waited for Lena to pour whiskey into three tumbler glasses.

"The night before, I dreamed about going to Paris and seeing Josephine Baker," Bernice said.

She spun around and shook her hips.

"Y'all think she really dances over there naked wearing bananas?" Bernice asked.

"Lemme see, travel… bananas…dancing…" Max murmured.

He circled numbers in his book with a stubby pencil. Lena placed the drinks on Bernice's tray and tapped her foot waiting for Max. Two other female servers went to Frank to fill their orders.

"Okay…two…twenty-nine…seventeen," Max said.

He reached into his tip pocket and pulled out a coin, handing it to Bernice.

"Give that to Melvin and tell him to combinate my numbers," he said.

"You give your own money to the numbers man," Bernice said.

She flounced away from the bar, and Max sucked his teeth.

Stack strolled in and took off his hat and coat, leaving it with the coat check girl. He surveyed the room and two gleeful white women sauntered over to him.

"Them ofays sure do love them some Big Stack," Max said.

Bernice returned with another drink order. She glanced at Stack, too.

"Can you blame them? Look at him…just a big stiff drink I'd love to pour down my throat."

"Man can't even get into the club without women flocking to him," Max said.

"Those two wait to see him every week. They reserve the table closest to the door to catch him," Bernice added. "I ain't never seen him with anything darker than a paper bag, though."

"That's cuz you and those ladies are at the top of the hierarchy."

"What are you bumping your gums about now, Max?" Bernice sighed.

"Niggas out here go for color first, hair texture second, and shape last. Listen to me…don't roll your eyes…white girls and you lightskins…that would be you Bernice with your mixed ass…are at the top. If a woman ain't that, they'll take a brownskin, like Lena, if they have good hair. But if they can't have number one or two, a woman has to at least have a good shape. See, Bernice here, she only got one and two—"

"I got a cute shape, too! I'm all three!" Bernice protested.

"Not with those knock knees and small tits…anyway, like I was saying…you gotta have what's on that list or you won't get no attention in this club. That's why Lena is behind the bar and not on the floor with you all night getting the fat tips. Facts is facts, and that man over there likes to have all three."

They watched Stack as he charmed the women blocking him from the rest of the club.

"Hmmph. Men are stupid," Bernice huffed. "Miss Two-out-of-three, can I get three shots of rum?"

"Coming right up, Miss Three-out-of-three," Lena said.

Bernice cackled, then took the drinks away.

"I never noticed she had knock knees," Lena whispered to Max.

Stack sauntered over with the women and their loud chatter livened up the counter.

"Hey Max," Stack said.

"Good to see you this evening, Mr. Moore," Max said, taking on his polished bartender voice.

He dropped his dream book under the counter.

"What can I fix for you tonight, sir?"

Max waited for the order. Lena headed over to another patron who wanted hooch.

"Ladies, what would you like to drink?" Stack asked.

The first woman, a shapely red head with narrow features asked for a Sidecar, and the second woman, a wide-eyed brunette, requested a Malört.

"You like that bitter stuff?" Stack asked.

Lena clocked the brunette's curling edges from perspiration, and the slight roundness of her nose. To a regular white person, she could pass as Italian or even a Jewish Russian. However, the hair, the extra curve in her ass, and the nervous fluttery eyes told the truth to Lena. The woman glanced at her; a mutual understanding passed between them that she would be treated as a white woman. Who was she to judge what people had to do to survive a depression?

If Stack knew, he didn't let on. Max gave them their drinks and Stack turned his steady focus on Lena.

"You look real nice tonight, Lena."

"Thank you, Mr. Moore," she said.

"When you wear all those curls, it makes your pretty eyes look mysterious—"

"Stack," the redhead interjected.

Her tone came out sharply, saying his name.

"I'm talking, baby, give me a minute," he said.

The bass in his voice caused her lips to bunch up. Her brunette friend sipped the Malört and looked away.

"I didn't come down here to watch you talk to a bartender," the redhead whined.

"Bitch, I don't care what you came here to do."

Max stepped in to de-escalate.

"Mr. Moore, what would you like to have?"

Lena left them to serve other people, and Stack dismissed the two women. He conferred with Max and the floor show began, capturing his attention. Stack loved watching the dancers. He probably ran through most of them based on his reputation. Irritation stretched across his face and Lena served him the moonshine he loved.

"Those girls don't know how to act when you talk to other women," she said.

"I'm tired of them dingy broads anyway. They both have dry coochie and bad attitudes. White bitches love slumming with dark dick, but act all bent outta shape if a colored woman gets a tiny bit of attention."

"You do know one of them is colored, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

He grinned and looked deep into Lena's eyes. She gave him a sly smirk and his eyes drank her in.

"You want some more?" she asked, enunciating each word.

Stack watched her succulent red lips and his gaze dipped to the top of her white blouse, eyeballing the outline of her breasts.

"You undressing me with those eyes, Mr. Moore?"

Dimples.

"I think you're undressing me," he said.

"I been did that," she teased, and sashayed away to serve a counter rush of older men with their mistresses.

She knew he kept his eyes on her ass the way she intended by swinging her hips extra hard.

He loved watching her.

For weeks she acted coquettish and purred his last name any time she served him. Ernie treated him and Smoke as his most trusted muscle men. If he needed an enemy whacked, he sent the Smoke Stack twins with the chopper to deliver a Chicago overcoat first class. Stack strutted around the club with a dominance that aroused her. Most tough guys annoyed her, their performative masculinity a tremendous joke to her.

Not Stack.

He oozed overt power, and she wanted a taste of that in her bed.

"Be careful, Lena, being a gangster's woman ain't the life you want," Max warned on a different night.

He caught her ogling Stack. Lena loved the way his thighs stretched the material of his pants, and she licked her lips at the heavy bulge in the crotch. What she would give to sit on all that hefty weight. She flirted with the gangster using long unblinking stares on him, and lightly touched his hand whenever she served glasses of rum, gin, or the moonshine he liked to call dog soup. Eventually, he would just beeline to the bar to greet her the moment he walked into the club. He only had eyes for her.

Women were easy for Stack to catch because they threw themselves at him. She lured him in night by night, forcing him to chase her, keeping him expectant, and on his toes. The man hadn't chased a woman for a long time and it showed.

Her calculated seduction worked.

He started bringing her things. Diamond earrings. Real ones. Fancy gold hair clips and chocolate candy in heart boxes. He asked around and found out her favorite snack was the roasted peanuts sold a block away on the street from an old German man. He left her small warm bags at the bar before her shift started on Fridays to last her all weekend. She showed up to work one night and Max could barely contain himself. He handed her a large box with a knee-length fur coat inside.

He asked her out a few times, but she played demure, citing the rules of employees not fraternizing with employers.

"Aw Lena. I don't own this place…I work for the man who does. He pays your checks, not me."

"The other girls will be mad if they see me with you."

"Fuck 'em."

"I'll think about it."

He floated for a week after she said that. Like most men, he wanted a slut to fuck in private, but a good girl to woo in public.

A month later, Lena had a rough night with some rowdy patrons. Lower-level men of Ernie's syndicate. Stack had been out of town on business, and she missed interacting with him. His flirty nature kept her work nights fun, and they flew by fast. Without him, they dragged on for hours.

After Lena helped clean the bar area and counted money at closing, the numbers man slid over to Max and handed him a fifteen dollar win.

"Holy shit!" Max shouted.

He turned to Lena, his eyes shiny with joy.

"I'm taking you to Al's Diner for steak and eggs!"

Lena grabbed her coat and purse and walked out of the club with Max. Bernice joined them. They caught a cab to Al's Diner in a seedier area, but the food was delicious. Lena ate her fill and listened to Max make plans to buy his girlfriend new dresses, and a new tailored suit with nice dress shoes to replace the clodhoppers he wore outside of work. Bernice planned a rent party and Lena promised to spread the word and address to their shared apartment building. Max offered to pay for all the food at her party so she could sell dinner plates and keep all the proceeds.

After Max splurged on chocolate malts, she shared another cab ride with Bernice to her second-floor walk-up.

Another week passed, and Stack didn't come to the Sunset. Lena worried that the Italian mafia under Al Capone's orders gunned him down in the windy city or Bugs Moran and the Irish mob caught him slipping and threw him in Lake Michigan. Smoke huddled with Ernie and the other men in their crew, talking animatedly. She made her way around the bar counter. Tensions around the city had been thick among the immigrant groups, but colored folks kept on striving for better. Tempted to ask the other twin about his brother, she felt two muscular arms lift her up when she headed to the secret storage room to retrieve more spirits.

"Stack!"

Her heart triple-thumped in her chest like a train roaring down an uneven track. She turned and threw her arms around his neck instinctively.

"You missed me," he whispered in her ear.

The vibration of his voice along the delicate skin on her neck thrilled her. The breathiness in the shell of her ear heated the blood in her veins.

She kissed him.

Smashed her plump wanton lips across his fuller ones and slipped her tongue past the seam, tasting the strong whiskey on his breath. Their heads slanted for the proper angle to slide warm tongues together. His deep kisses sent love pulses straight down to her toes. Stack tongued her breathless hidden behind an alcove. He cradled her face before pulling away first.

"Damn. I ain't been kissed like that before," he drawled out in his delta accent.

She held his longing gaze in the yellow light of the hanging lamp that dangled above them. As tough as he was, his face looked so gentle and pure up close. Like a big ole puppy that just wanted to play fetch with her heart.

"Go out with me tonight," he asked.

She tickled the facial hair on his chin, then ran a slender finger down the part in his hair.

"How 'bout you go out with me?"

He grinned.

"Where?"

"It won't be nowhere high class like you're used to, but you'll have a good time. Promise."

He lunged for her mouth again, wrapping his beefy arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet.

"Oh, no wonder it's taking you so long to bring those bottles out," her co-worker Frank said.

Lena jerked away from Stack and grabbed the bottles she came for. She rushed past Frank, beaming all the way back to the bar.

Chapter 2 HERE.

A.N.:

Thanks for your patience! It's easier to do little chapters to buy me time to finish it. But y'all read so darn fast though!

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@janelledarling

@chaneajoyyy  

@sweetestdream92  

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@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade

@bugngiz

@stariamrry  

@honeytoffee

@meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees

@eye-raq  

@writerbee-ffs  

@chocolatedream30  

@childishgambinaa  

@mygirlrenee

@thewaysheis—awkward

@tchallasbabymama

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[rrcraft-and-lore]

Tapati, who is she, and why is she significant?

Well, first, she is a river goddess, but daughter of the sun god, Surya. However, her name means the hot one, the burning one. Interestingly enough, her name is tied to the river she's said to rule over - HOWEVER, language time.

Agni, a vedic fire god, has a scythian counterpart similar in name (and the scythian's are the older culture that broke off to form the vedic, indo iranian/iranian, and levant people as well as others - mixing, breeding, invading).

Back to Tapati.

Her name is cognate with the Scythian supreme fire goddess, Tabiti. Very interesting.

Tabiti is the supreme goddess of all things in the Scythian culture, primordial, the first flame, and much like Ianna (from Summerian mythology I talked about later) went on to inspire entire god/goddess roles, and had mantles inverted as interestingly enough, there's evidence some first/supreme deities were feminine, later flipped to male as cultures evolved - their places/roles attributes assigned to male gods and their places changed - made wives, daughters, so on a similar sort of flipping happens out of the Scythian culture/ proto Indo Europeans (that I've talked about) where the root word for a divine (doesn't mean good just divinely powered) being evolved along languages the ahura, asura, and asir (Norse) come from an older proto Indo-European/Scythian word.

In the Vedic stories, the daevas are good, the asura evil. In the Avestan and Iranian texts...the ahura/asura are good, and the daevas are evil.

We know the Norse asir and vanir warred also very interesting. And interesting how gods/goddesses are changed, subsumed, adopted and more, no? Tabiti was never represented in/by art, btw. Her representation was always an actual fireplace -- a flame. That's what you used.

There's historical written evidence in places of Agni's animal form being both referred to as a bull, AND a cow in places - different genders. And his flame being referred to as female in places.

In the Hindu bronze age, Agni had way more of a prominent role as fire did before later dwindling...as fire does (ooooo symbolic - okay that's just cuz of time and shifting priorities), but there are more similarities of these things in Baltic cultures -- but oh why?

(Why am I hopping around? Cuz gods/goddesses, archetypes, beats, stories all do too - all connected you muppets).

Well, did you know the closest cognate to Sanskrit is Lithuanian? It's kept so much of its proto Indo European roots.

Wait, a South Asian language and Baltic European language are cognates? YUH. WEIRD.

Almost like they both derived out of an older culture, language, their practices, beliefs and more.

And most of human history is just migrating, fucking, invading, and settling in new places and staying long enough until your features continue to change due to bow chicka wow wowing and environment.

Funny how that works.

Here's some Scythian clothing (oh btw, women were warriors/could be too - congrats you learned that).

Does this style look familiar? Yeah, you can see the evolution/adaptation from this to later styles (bearing similarities) in Iran, India, Mongolia, the Baltics.

Cuz....y'know, that's where the proto Indo Europeans went about their biz and got jiggy with it and settled. Wow-wow-wee-wah! Okay now I'm done. Circular ish convo to get there but started with a fire goddess, it's relevant, but it all comes back to this.

Btw, this is also an important lesson for fantasy authors.

Because of all these connections and how old a bad ass fire goddess is, many of the oldest cultures are regarded as fire worshippers (like the Zoroastrians) did you know some keep an eternal burning flame? -- one is in Udvada Gujarat in India.

This flame has been said to have been kept burning for 1,500 years.

FIFTEEN HUNDRED.

And again, while most of the surviving Indo Iranic sun gods are male, there is evidence the ORIGINAL sun deity (including in/from the German, Baltic, and Slavic religions) was FEMALE.

[cliperry]

Pop Inc.

By Jonathan Heaf 24 August 2015

There will be a short vignette somewhere amid all the smooth hairless torsos, hot white grins and hair product of One Direction's new ­feature-length documentary, This Is Us, wherein the film-makers ask a certified doctor to explain precisely what happens ­physically to a teenage girl's body when she listens to a One Direction song. It's something the director of the film, Morgan Spurlock (Super Size Me; Where In The World Is Osama Bin Laden?), has always been keen to capture on camera, though that isn't to say he's more than a little concerned about convincing a medical ­professional to go on record about such a potentially taboo-­shattering "scientific" experiment. "It's more than likely," he tells GQ, ­laughing his head off, "that I'll have to source my legit doctor from Europe rather than the States. Somewhere a little more progressive!"

Although such an experiment is no doubt titillating for the audience, at the time of interviewing Spurlock, I wondered whether it was absolutely necessary. After all, by now we all know the immense transformative power of a boy band to turn a butter-wouldn't-melt teenage girl into a rabid, knicker-wetting banshee who will tear off her own ears in hysterical fervour when presented with the objects of her fascinations. Hasn't this spectacle of the natural world - like the aurora borealis or the migration of wild bison across America's Great Plains - been acknowledged? It was Keith Richards, after all, who testified in the documentary Crossfire Hurricane to "rivers running down the aisles" while playing those first Rolling Stones gigs way back in 1963. Women like seeing men parade around on stage to music - we get it.

Well, try telling that to the women sitting in GQ's immediate vicinity on Row J, Block 112 at the O2 Arena, only two minutes after One Direction have bounded onto the stage, all big waves and jeans that appear to be at once both skinny and baggy.

These women don't care about the Rolling Stones. They don't care about the meta-modernist cycle of cultural repetition. They don't care about history. All these female fans care about is their immediate vociferous reverence: the beatification of St Harry, St Zayn, St Niall, St Louis and St Liam.

Inside the venue a hormone bomb has gone off: 20,000 females all turning themselves inside out, some almost literally, to the sight of Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson and Liam Payne. GQ's overriding feeling (as a 34-year-old man in a Burberry biker jacket with a notepad and pen) is one of hapless isolation, marooned between a 20-year-old mother of three girls to my left and five screaming teenagers all aged between 15 and 17 to my right. I am an interloper trapped within Harry Styles' very own Lynx advert - I'm scared, bewildered and ever so slightly deaf.

Ever since this boy band were forged in the black dystopian kilns of The X Factor by music mogul Simon Cowell in 2010, the five boys, now five men, have gone on to become bigger than even their creator could have dared dream. Starbucks, Coca-Cola, Facebook, One Direction. They were the first band to break globally through social media - now with more than 13 million followers on Twitter, and that's not even tallying the members' own individual­ handles. In March 2012, 1D's debut album topped the Billboard charts. No UK act had ever done this before. Not the Beatles nor the Stones, not Coldplay nor Mumford & Sons. And they continue apace: 19 million singles sold, ten million copies of their two albums - Up All Night (2011); Take Me Home (2012) - with a feature film out this month and a third album being recorded, the business empire fronted by these cherubic faces now stretches well into the hundreds of millions of pounds, with licensing deals that include everything from lunchboxes to their own fragrances. Their ambition, or at least their management's ambition, is seemingly infinite.

Tonight, the multi-tiered circular arena - the entirety of which is being filmed in 3-D as part of Spurlock's ambitious project - is brighter than usual, so the six colossal F65 cameras are able to capture every tear, every flushed crimson cheek, every homemade (and often ­fantastically rude) poster. For GQ, the extra illumination only serves to spotlight the astonishing scenes: an ocean of 20,000 wide-open mouths, hundreds of pleading white eyes, 40,000 palms raised skywards, a dark-pink oil slick that howls and moans and undulates with every impish crotch-thrust from their idols' plinths. Thousands of female fans caught on the cusp of their own sexual awakening, a band beckoning them on with lyrics such as, "I want to stay up all night/And do it all with you", and GQ caught slap-bang in the middle like a substitute teacher at the annual school disco.

Forty minutes in, I make a break for the exit. Spurlock's advice echoes and bounces off the endless rows of merchandise stalls and nacho stands: "Best thing about a One Direction concert for us guys? No rest-room queues." Out in the foyer is a man, mid-forties, a lone father I suspect, nursing a numbing pint just behind one of the venue's giant structural pillars. He takes a long drag on his electronic cigarette and nods empathetically. The long escalator takes me down and out and into the sharp night air. Behind me I hear the shrill sonic boom of a whole generation of women coming of age.

An hour earlier and I'm waiting for the band to arrive at the venue. The room I've been ushered into - down a warren of back passages and through more security­ checks than the Gaza Strip - can be found directly­ behind the main dressing rooms, about 50 yards behind the stage. To get into the room, named the FAB Room, you have to walk through a wardrobe - yes, just like in the books.

Thanks to some creative sort in charge of artist hospitality, Narnia has been relocated from the novels of CS Lewis and can now be found somewhere within the concreted walls of Britain's Second Biggest Live Indoor Music Venue, a phantasmagorical literary portal now made real and sponsored by a mobile-phone conglomerate. The room is as gaudy as you'd expect from an "entertainment suite": purple sofas, a bar that serves jellybeans rather than Jim Beam, and row upon row of trompe l'oeil vinyl "records" that line the walls like the fake anthropological relics of a forgotten world. Presumably poor Mr Tumnus will be in at any moment to serve us Frappuccinos.

The rules of The Interview were crystal clear long before my arrival in Fake Disco Narnia: two 15-minute slots, with the five band members split into two separate groups - Liam and Niall, followed by Louis, Zayn and Harry. An application for a proper, grown-up chat with each of the boys was vetoed by their scrupulously efficient PR man: "No time." As I know the dangers of interviewing band members together - their cubbish jovial inter-band mumbling always cloaking any sort of straight answer - I suggest I interview each of the members for six minutes alone. No ball. Which makes any journalist wonder whether the talent has something to hide or, in fact, nothing to give. Aside from the time restrictions, there were two other cast-iron "no-go areas": "In terms of parameters for the interview, Taylor Swift is off limits for Harry. And Zayn will not discuss the story from earlier this year alleging he had cheated."

Liam Payne, and Niall Horan, both 19, skip like two Slinkies in sportswear. They are almost intolerably bouncy; all the baggy, soft, cotton leisurewear making them appear like a couple of animated cartoon humans which have escaped a Pixar movie. They are, of course, politeness personified and at first seem blissfully unaware of their intergalactic fame or, indeed, the impact their words can have beyond these four heinously decorated walls. "I've come to a point now where I just go wherever people tell me to go," begins Liam, coolly. "That's what life is like. People say, 'Go here,' and I oblige." The singer, who it has been said can be prone to a bit of a grumble, then adds with an agreeable dollop of West Midlands nonchalance: "So long as you tell me what object to aim towards, I'll just keep moving."

After their six-night stint at the O2, ending tomorrow night, the band will go on to export their good-looking pop-rock extravaganza to Europe, the US, Australia and New Zealand - an eight-month, 128-date arena tour that will take in everywhere from Berlin to Brisbane.

GQ: Do you notice a difference in the fans between various countries?

Liam: I actually don't. I think all our fans are just on another level of crazy. Unstoppable.

Niall: They are nuts. Mostly all I see is a sea of screaming faces. It's brilliant, especially in South America; there's a whole carnival vibe outside the gigs.

GQ: Tell me about the new album.

Niall: We don't actually have a specific date for the new album, but on the road we will have more time to record and try things out. It'll be a bit heavier. A bit rockier. A bit cooler.

Liam: Consider this a warning: this is a new sound.

GQ: Is this a step away from your wholesome, teeny-bop image?

Niall: We're pretty honest. We're just five guys having the time of our lives.

Liam: I think in the industry we're in and the type of audience we have, we're never going to escape the idea of being young. Which I don't mind myself. I mean, who wants to grow up anyway? I don't want to grow up. I remember when I watched this documentary when I was a kid about Donny Osmond and I think it got to him a little bit, always having to be clean-cut and the nice guy. Maybe it'll happen to us. Although we get away with far too much, so why would we want it to stop?

Niall: We just go with what we have and who we are. Just be people. I don't want to live up to how people expect me to be.

GQ: Groupies and booze: what are your tour-bus rules?

Niall: We haven't been on the road long enough yet - ask me in a few months' time. All last year, we were touring in America so we were all under age, so we couldn't really party then, anyway.

Liam: Groupies? We don't have time to party! I'm not even single. This sort of talk will get me in trouble.

Niall: We go back on the road straight after a show and we're gone. I wish we did have time for girls and parties but we don't. Liam: Maybe we need someone to schedule that in for us.

Niall: I'll say one thing: Ellie Goulding - wow.

She's absolutely amazing looking. I met her at the Brits.

Liam: Put it right out there, Niall.

Niall: Well, you've got to, haven't you. I mean, she has a boyfriend, but what the hell.

GQ: Which song do you wish you'd written?

Niall: "Hotel California" by the Eagles.

Liam: "99 Problems" by Jay-Z.

The way One Direction write songs, or more accurately the way One Direction build hits, is how most manufactured pop acts build hits. And it isn't meant as a criticism; teenage girls and grown men alike are a long way past being ignorant about how our pop songs get onto the radio - if it's a hit, it's a hit. It's one thing if you learn H from Steps has been writing lyrics for Alex Turner, but if I told you Rihanna's "Umbrella" was written by a smorgasbord of writers including a producer called The-Dream, Christopher Stewart and Kuk Harrell, would that taint your listening experience next time you were getting your swag on to RiRi in the car or in a club?

Pop acts have forever had big, epic songs delivered to them, and for 1D this isn't the problem. Neither is genuine talent. All five members can, in fact, hold a pretty decent vocal; the televised A&R experience that is The X Factor ensures all artists off the conveyor belt come with fully authenticated voice boxes. No, the problem now seemingly for One Direction, the huge tuneless white elephant in the room, is that they've never really had any proper big hits. Yes, they've sold a lot of high-energy pop-rock records to tweens who would just as easily bop about to the sound of Peppa Pig sitting on a giant pink keyboard, but if they want this third record to take them into the realms of long-lasting, legitimate, market-bridging, gold-plated pop then they're going to need some tunes. And fast. The ticking clock isn't so much about the record industry - 1D exist within their own self-sufficiently successful microcosm - as about the age of their fans. The older their fans get, the more One Direction's legacy will become about the music.

It's the music that Harry Magee - one half of Modest!

Management, the business brains behind the band - knows will keep this band from disintegrating while entering through adulthood's problem-prone atmosphere. "The scale of this band is unprecedented.

None of us involved in the band, from the management, to the agents, to the licensees, to retailers, have ever worked on anything this big before. There might be huge acts that have been going longer than 25 years but they are not nearly as broad as One Direction, especially when it comes to selling tickets and selling merchandise. In the US last summer, we broke the merchandise record in every single venue we played at - same for Europe. Whether it's the Backstreet Boys, Justin Bieber, Michael Jackson or a rock band like Metallica, or Live Aid, in terms of per-head numbers for merchandise we have broken all the numbers. We need more stands at the gigs. More people serving. "But you have to underpin all this with good music. Listen, I would be very surprised if any of them went solo. We have an 18-month to two-year plan and all the members have signed up for this. But you need to keep it fresh. The band have not had that many big radio hits. Their debut single 'What Makes You Beautiful' is a classic pop record with a really good lyric that resonates with teenage girls, but since then, the music has admittedly not always been the driving thing. We strive for that. We need to keep having hits. And you hope that when you have a hit it goes beyond your [original] fanbase. This is also what the band want. Their primary interest [in One Direction] is getting the right songs and making the right record."

It may come as a surprise - or not - that McGee ensures he never attends a One Direction gig without one essential piece of equipment: "Earplugs! Well, you've got to haven't you? It's just too loud..." "We started writing and recording in January," explains Julian Bunetta, a 30-year-old LA-based producer and songwriter who has been working with One Direction on and off for two years. "We knew the new record would take time, partly because of what we wanted to accomplish and partly because the band are making a feature film and on a world arena tour, so the only time they're going to have is the evening, the early hours. These boys are very busy."

So how do five young pop artists, most of whom have had no professional songwriting experience, go about writing a smash-hit single to compete with the likes of Lady Gaga or Daft Punk? "It happens a lot of different ways. We spend a lot of time around the band, soaking up the conversation. Then one guy might have an idea for a riff or a melody they recorded on their phones.

Sometimes it's really quick, sometimes - like last time in London - it can take two days before anyone agrees on what we want a song to say." What are the band like in the studio?

"I've only written with three of them so far - Louis, Liam and Harry. Harry likes to just freestyle a lot - you give him some chord and he'll just come out with some crazy improv stuff. Louis takes a more executive role. Almost a producer role. Niall, as everyone knows, can play guitar. And Liam the other day started playing bass on one of the new records." But Bunetta is emphatic about one thing: "What they don't do is use Auto-Tune."

So, the band has the talent plus the industry framework behind them - what's the big hold-up? "They need to accurately represent who they are in real life. And for the songs to be more about them.

They have an audience and they have that audience's ears for now.

They need to evolve the sound and to also take some risks. The boys want to be honest about their age and their situation as young men.

They aren't the naive, clean-cut guys next door any more - they're rock stars and this new record will reflect that. They are travelling the world, having new experiences and playing for hundred of thousands of people. But as well as the insane highs, you get the lows. They'll be away from home and they'll be getting really f***ing lonely. And maybe they still need to meet a girl who is going to love them for who they really are. These are real, tangible things and situations they are going through, that everyone can relate to - not just the female fans. It's these things that cut to the core of being a human."

Harry Styles wears, presently, One Direction's only pair of visible cojones. The rest of them might as well be eunuchs. He is the band's libido: their inner mojo made physical - and with great hair. If Julian Bunetta feels that what this band needs more of is a human face - real and tangible and, perhaps more importantly, readable - then Harry Styles is the only one who currently delivers outside of the world of tween girls. Fact. He's the youngest member of the group - just as Robbie Williams was in Take That - and just like Williams, he seems to be the most willing to just go out and enjoy himself, minder or no minder, pop band or no pop band. He's their rock star. The cool kid. The one who goes out all night with urban aesthetes such as Kate Moss, Jamie Hince, Rita Ora, Cara Delevingne and Nick Grimshaw, the Radio 1 breakfast host who has scarified one million listeners in order to make the station cool again. According to one source very close to Grimshaw, speaking to

GQ, the ingratiating of Styles into such a usually impenetrable London clique is, in fact, solely through the 28-year-old radio host. Grimshaw is Styles' enabler so far as cool London is concerned, and for a period they seemed inseparable, swapping clothes or staying out all night together.­ At times, rumours circulated that the pair were indeed more than just close friends. It's all credit to Styles, really, that such a relationship seemed perfectly credible.

It's also well known, however, that Styles is fond of a female companion. He's like Russell Brand, just minus the needy braggadocio. From one of Rod Stewart's daughters, and TV host Caroline Flack to (whisper it) Taylor Swift and one of the blondes off Made In Chelsea (really, Harry?), Styles seems to be, quite frankly, working his way through his fair share of pretty young things. And why not? As Styles himself so famously whispered to X Factor winner Matt Cardle live on ITV in front of 19.4 million viewers, when you're a pop star, "just think of how much pussy you're going to get". Styles is also the only band member you feel has the natural charisma to go it alone with a solo career. For magnetism, he can't be matched.

Which I don't mind myself. I mean, who wants to grow up anyway? (Liam Payne)

What else do we know about Harry Styles? "Harry has plenty of money," explains Morgan Spurlock, who has spent the best part of a year on the road with the band. "They have bought houses, property, they've invested in gold. They are all being smart [with their money]. It's not like they're driving around in Lamborghinis. But they are low-key. Harry is currently staying in a friend's attic.

He's got a house that's being renovated and so he's living with Ben

[Winston], who is also a producer on our film. Ben and Harry have been friends for a long time. These guys like having familiar faces around them - their extended family, people they can trust. The other day, I went over to Ben's house and crept upstairs to film Harry waking up. There's this moment when he's all sleepy and in bed rolling around in the covers pretty much naked. All I could hear in my head was 18 million girls screaming."

Harry has also invested in art. A London art dealer who was recently involved in some of Styles' acquisitions, preferring to remain anonymous, told GQ: "He bought a sculpture by Polly Morgan - she's the taxidermist artist who was on the fringes of the YBA but didn't quite make it. She's popular with pop stars, fashion folk [Kate Moss], so not a surprising buy. Her work tends to be low five figures so around £10,000 to £20,000. Quite gothic/post-pop, so stuffed animals, skulls... [Harry] also bought a couple of sculptures by Ben Turnbull: Jesus wearing boxing gloves, and also a Ben Turnbull sculpture of a small gun behind glass. He also bought some Turnbull prints. Again, quite poptastic art with a frisson of darkness, and again the sculpture would be around £10,000 upwards, with prints cheaper. So not bad purchases for a young collector. On the plus point, it's impressive he's buying sculpture, because most younger collectors tend to go for painting; his taste seems rooted in contemporary takes on pop art, and he likes a little bit of controversy or gothic in there."

It comes as no surprise that Styles is, of course, fiercely protected by the 1D team. And as I'm waiting to meet the three remaining members, I get the distinct impression that the whole group-interview scenario is more for Styles' benefit than anyone else. Of course, the gods have a punchy way to deliver happenstance. And this morning, for GQ at least, it comes in the form of a road-traffic accident inside the Blackwall Tunnel, the main traffic artery from inner London to the O2. This means that although Harry made it through, the other two, Louis and Zayn, are held up. Harry is, at least for a glimmer, all by himself, alone.

GQ: Does this job get any easier?

Harry: I don't think it's easy at all. The fear of it has turned into adrenaline. Definitely the first few shows you're scared as that's when all the mistakes happen. And then once you get your bearings and you know what you're doing you can enjoy it more. Every show is different so you can't entirely relax, although sometimes I do wonder what I'll be having for tea that night. I try to remain focused.

GQ: What do you make of the rumours about you and Nick Grimshaw?

Harry: What rumours would they be?

GQ: That you're an item.

Harry: Oh, really? I didn't even know. We're not dating, no. We're just friends.

GQ: So you're not bisexual?

Harry: Bisexual? Me? I don't think so. I'm pretty sure I'm not.

GQ: Do these rumours feel at all intrusive?

Harry: Some of them are funny. Some of them are ridiculous. Some of them are annoying. I don't want to be one of those people that complains about the rumours. I never like it when a celebrity goes on Twitter and says, "This isn't true!" It is what it is, I tend not to do that. The only time it gets really annoying is that if you get into a relationship and you get into a place where you really like someone and then things are being written in the papers that affect them and how they see you. Then it can get annoying.

GQ: Do you worry about going off the rails?

Harry: No. I'm not a big drinker, really I'm not. I don't go home and open a beer or have a glass of wine to relax, I'm just not that sort of person. I'll drink if I go out with friends and if I've got the day off, yeah, I'll go out. I don't like alcohol enough.

GQ: Are you getting more used to being this famous?

Harry: I don't think you can ever get used to being this famous. I've learnt how to keep things separate or at a distance.

I've nothing to hide. But seeing this as work, like a job, means I can take a step back. It's me right now in front of you and in the papers but it's not all of me. If you give yourself entirely to the business, you'd end up going mad. And I'm not mad. Not yet.

GQ: Do you know how many people you've slept with?

Harry: I know the number of people I've slept with, yes.

GQ: What is that number?

Harry: I'm definitely not telling you!

GQ: Can you give me a rough, ballpark figure?

Harry: No!

GQ: Say "yes" or "no". Less than 100?

Harry: No!

GQ: So higher than 100?

Harry: No, it's definitely less than 100...

GQ: Lower than 50?

Harry: Yes, lower than 50.

[b]GQ: Lower than 30?

Harry: I'm not doing this! You're cornering me!

GQ: Come on you're a rock star. OK, less than ten.

Harry: Yes. Two people. I've only ever had sex with two people.

GQ: I don't believe you.

Harry: Well, that's my answer. Read from it what you will!

At this point, Zayn and Louis walk in. Which is a pity, as Harry is just getting into his stride. He's confident and can handle himself well. He's charming, funny and you can see why the girls (and boys) swoon. If One Direction have ambitions to broaden their audience they are going to have to learn to reveal a little more of themselves - or be allowed to. With the other two in the room the talk reverts back to "band issues".

What do they think of the likes of Noel Gallagher telling them their music can "f*** off"? "At the end of the day you kind of want Noel Gallagher to be a knob," replies Louis, the oldest in the group, now 21. "You expect him to be a knob. That's cool in a way. He says shit like that but that's definitely what we would expect from someone like him.

He's predictable."

Harry adds with a wry smile: "It's easy to have a pop at the kids from X Factor. Thing is, his kids are coming to our show on Saturday..."

I go on to ask Zayn about his Muslim upbringing. He shuts me down ­immediately: "I don't like talking about my religion." Why not? "I just don't like talking about it." Fair enough. Back to the pop questions, then.

GQ: What was the last record they bought?

Zayn: "The Evolution Of Robin Thicke."

GQ: Is there anything they wouldn't endorse?

Louis: "Weapons. A One Direction handgun. Although don't rule anything out. Could be big in our thug market!"

For those with girlfriends, is it hard to remain monogamous while on tour?

Louis: "I don't think it is. The type of girls that would sleep with you in a heartbeat aren't the type of girls I'd want to take home anyway." Meanwhile, Harry, together with his big, visible cojones, has long left Narnia.

GQ: How will One Direction be remembered?

Zayn: I want a monument put up in Bradford! They will build statues of us. No, I want to change pop culture...

Louis: As a boy band that didn't dance.

Niall: It would be great to just be remembered.

Liam: It was nice to win a Brit. What was it for again?

Niall: You know when the Backstreet Boys and New Kids On The Block came back a few months ago? And all they did were arena tours. That's how I'd like to be remembered.

Liam: Yeah, just pop in and do an arena tour every ten years...

Niall: Sell out Wembley. Smash it hard. Home in time for tea.

Liam: Fingers crossed, eh?