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bethanythebogwitch · 2 years ago

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If you asked me as a kid what my favorite animal was, there's a good chance I'd respond "chambered nautilus", though I probably would mispronounce it. I don't know if it's still my favorite but it's definitely up there in the pantheon of weird critters. For this Wet Beast Wednesday, I'll discuss my childhood favorite.

(image: a nautilus)

The nautilus is a cephalopod that lives in a curved shell and looks similar to (but is not closely related to) the extinct ammonites. There are 6 living species in two genera, but 90% of the time when someone is discussing nautiluses they are referring to the most well-known species: Nautilus pompilius or the chambered nautilus. Nautiloids are ancient, going back to at least the late triassic with their more primitive ancestors going back as far as the ordovician period, a time when only invertebrates and primitive plants occupied the land and true fish had not yet appeared. Because of their ancient history, nautiluses are sometimes considered living fossils. I have ranted before on how misleading the term "living fossil" is so I'll spare you that for now. Nautiloids are considered a sister group to the celoids, which contains all the squid, octopus, cuttlefish, and everything else we thinks of as cephalopods. Nautiluses should not be confused with paper nautiluses. Also called argonauts, paper nautiluses are a group of octopi that make an egg case which looks like a shell.

(image: a nautilus)

The most noticeable feature of a nautilus is its shell. The shell is smooth and finely curving, naturally growing in the shape of a logarithmic spiral (though not, as is commonly stated, a golden ratio spiral). The shell has a stripy outer layer and an inner layer coated with nacre. Internally, the shell is divided into camarae (chambers) separated from each other by walls called septa. Each septum has a small hole in it through which a strand of tissue called the siphuncle passes. Most of the nautilus's body is in the foremost and largest chamber. The shell grows new septa as the animal grows, with the nautilus's body moving to a new chamber as it becomes too large for previous ones. Juveniles are typically born with 4 septa, with adults having as many as 30. In addition to providing protection from predators, the shell is also key for regulating buoyancy. The septa can contain pressurized gas or water and the siphuncle regulates their contents by either adding or removing water to increase or decrease buoyancy. Because of its pressurized contents, the shell can only withstand pressure at depths up to 800 M (2,400 ft) before imploding. Oddly enough, nautiluses can be safely brought up from deep waters where most animals would be killed by the pressure changes. To move, the nautilus pulls water into the first chamber of the shell using its hyponome (siphon) and shoots it back out. The chambered nautilus is the largest species, with a maximum shell diameter of 25 cm (10 in), though most get no larger than 20 cm (8 in).

(image: a diagram of nautilus anatomy. source)

Where celoid cephalopods have tentacles, nautiluses instead have numerous cirri. Unlike tentacles, cirri are less muscular, are not elastic, and have no suckers. They are used to grab objects using their ridged surfaces and can hold in so hard that trying to take an object away from a nautilus can rip off its cirri, which will remain firmly attached. In addition, the nautilus has modified cirri that serve as olfactory receptors and a pair that serve to open and close the shell when the nautilus needs to retract into it or emerge. Nestled within the cirri is the beak, which is used to consume the nautilus's primary prey of invertebrates, though they have also been seen scavenging fish. Their eyes are less developed than most cephalopods, lacking a lens and consisting of a small pinhole that only allows the nautilus to see simple imagery. Their brains are differently structured than most cephalopods and studies have found them to have considerably shorter long-term memories.

(image: a chambered nautilus (upper left) next to a rare Allonautilus scrobiculatus. source)

Cephalopod reproduction is quite different than that of other cephalopods. While most cephalopods are short-lived and semelparous (reproducing only once), nautiluses can live over 20 years and reproduce multiple times (iteroparity). They do not reach sexual maturity until around 15 years old, with females laying eggs once per year. Eggs are attached to rocks and take 8 to 12 months to hatch. Males have a structure called the spadix composed of 4 fused cirri that they use to transfer sperm to females. Females lose their gonads after laying their eggs and will regenerate them for the next year's mating season. Interestingly, male nautiluses seem to vastly outnumber the females. EDIT: @bri-the-nautilus in the replies found an alternate explanation for the disparity in male and female numbers you should check out. TLDR; the females are asocial.

(image: nautiluses mating)

Nautiluses are found in the Indo-Pacific reagion of the ocean and can be found on the steep slopes of coral reefs. They prefer to inhabit waters several hundred meters down. It was once believed that they would rise to shallow waters at night to feed, lay eggs, and mate, but their vertical migration behavior has since been shown to be more complex than that. They have noon been fished by humans for their shells, which have become popular subjects in art and can be made into a number of decorative pieces. The nacre of the shell can be polished into osmeña pearl, which can be quite valuable. Demand for the shells combined with the late sexual maturity and low fecundity is threatening all the species. As of 2016, nautiluses have been added to the CITES Appendix II, making them protected by limiting international trade of their shells. Despite this, they are still threatened and require further protection

(image: a carved and painted nautilus shell from the Poldi Pezzoli Museum, Milan)

#wet beast wednesday #nautilus #chambered nautilus #cephalopod #marine biology #zoology #biology #ecology #animal facts

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inksandpensblog · 2 months ago

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Sebastian Solace headcanons, mantis shrimp edition:

he has a carapace covering his back, under the jacket. it rumbles at a very low frequency when he's feeling territorial, though the effect is mostly smothered when he's carrying the weight of the scrambler.

he has meral spots (eyespots) on his arms. these are covered by his jacket and bandages, but when he feels threatened he will instinctively move in ways choreographed to display them in warning.

his "ear fins" are actually malformed antennal scales, which mantis shrimp use to communicate with each other via different movements and polarization of light. they may also have fluorescent spots that glow yellow in deeper, darker water.

the "back" of his tail looks segmented because of armored plating

I try to form headcanons that can be used to explain his anatomy as depicted in-game, limitations of a Roblox model and all. for that reason I wanna say it's possible that, despite his limbs possibly having the chitinous shell of a mantis shrimp, they may not actually have the structure or musculature required for the classic mantis-shrimp-punch, since they're clearly articulated like human arms rather than raptorial mantis-shrimp limbs (even if his lower arm does seem to rest in a raptor-position, it just doesn't bend the directions an actual mantis-shrimp arm would). but if you still want that for him...

he was spliced with a "smashing" mantis-shrimp type. assuming his sheer size doesn't slow him down at all, then not only can he punch with enough speed and force that the pressure change boils the water around the area of impact, but parts of his arms are actually bladed! could be his forearms, his palms, his fingers, whatever. being spliced with a smashing type could also mean that his aim doesn't need to be completely accurate, as the shock of the water-displacement might complete the job anyway even if his strike doesn't make contact.

(this could also be used to inform his behavior, as smashing mantis-shrimp types are foragers who find sedentary prey to hunt.)

he was spliced with a "spearing" mantis-shrimp type rather than a "smashing" type, and he doesn't actually have the speed that one would typically associate with mantis shrimps. but he does have barbs. these are also the ones that like to burrow in softer substrate; so if you want to go the route of his mantis-shrimp traits manifesting more in his behavior than in his appearance, he'd probably be more comfortable with digging or with burying himself in loose easily-shifted stuff.

(this could also be used to explain why he prefers not to leave his shop, or even to explain his shop as a concept, as spearing mantis-shrimp types are ambush predators who prefer to lie in wait for their prey rather than going out and actively searching for any.)

rather than the more commonly-known "spearing" or "smashing" mantis-shrimp types, he was spliced with one of the rarer "hatchet" types.

alternatively he could've been spliced with a "primitive smashing" or "spike smashing" or "hammer" type.

It's been extremely hard to find info on either of these latter two mantis-shrimp types so if any marine biologists have cool facts to add or sources to recommend (or corrections to make, or clarifications to provide, or specifics to emphasize, or) please feel free to chime in.

Unsorted sources will be in cascading reblogs since tumblr literally won't let me put them all in one post. For now though here's a few under the readmore to get started:

#sebastian solace #pressure #pressure roblox #roblox pressure #sebastian pressure #pressure headcanons #mantis shrimp #marine biology

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lil-bitty-lubdubs · 1 year ago

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The Basement Series-Septima Pt.1

Part 1

She awoke slowly, the world coming into her consciousness at snail speeds. Her brain felt heavy as if cotton was stuffed into its membranes. Her vision foggy though every light about her shimmered too bright for her to directly look at. Her strength was sapped, too weak to even raise her head up off the floor…

Table. It’s a table… or bed, she told herself. She was too far up for it to be the floor. Where is this? It was a dark room. Windowless. High celling. A basement. She tried to remember. Glove. A black glove covering her mouth. She remembered as fractured pieces of her past her coming into her consciousness. Rag. The glove was holding a soaked cloth. The stench- awful. Then darkness took her.

oh shit! She tried to panic but her heart was slow. Abnormally slow though steady. She turned her head to look around. There was bright earth blinding lights above her but the rest of the room was in shadow. It was a dark, dank place with no windows, no soul. It was the kind of place Bundonians would go to pay homage.

“Oh God…” she crooned softly to herself, but someone heard.

“Ah! You’re awake darling.” A man’s voice startled her though her heart only elevated slightly.

It was as if her heart was carrying a wide load behind it reacting too little too late, but the longer she was awake the more the weight was lifting. “Good. I’m glad to see those eyes.” His shadow appeared approaching from the left. That’s when she noticed it. The heart monitor just next to her bedside. She peered at the lines moving and shifting on its screen. She was confused a moment. Then she saw the wires attached to it. She traced them with her eyes from the machine straight to their source. Her chest. She realized she was unclothed save a thin white sheet covering her nudity. Her awakening heart picked up its beat, fear setting in. “What the hell…?”

“I see you’re beginning to understand the fun we’re going to have together.” The man’s voice was cheerful, calm, and slick as a snake’s skin. He was out of the shadows now. He was not very tall though a bit heavyset, but muscular probably around 35. Brunet. He wore a white lab coat like a doctor would on a bad TV show. He took her wrist gently, pressing in to feel her pulse.

“What?” She asked. “What do you mean? What the hell are you talking about? “Who are you?” she spoke each phrase louder than the next until she was yelling. “You’re crazy. You’re insane! Let me go!” she whimpered trying to get her other hand out from under the sheet.

“Oh but you will see …uh…”he looked at a plastic ID card…”Septima is it darling? I’m Cal. Dr. Cal if you will. We’re about to embark on a journey, you and I, and have so much fun along the way. He reached down under the sheet and slid a hand between her legs as she wiggled. “Mmm. Wet.” His eyes glistened lust.

“Nooo!” she let out a scream. “Don’t you touch me!!” she yelled as loud as she could. He remained unphased. Taking his hand out as he yanked off the sheet uncovering her completely.

“No!” She screamed again, feeling exposed and vulnerable. This is not going to end well.

“Now, now, its alright.” He murmured and patted her hand locking his whole palm over her wrist while pulling her arm well above her head, holding it down.

“Let me go!” She railed. “Stop. Let me GO!” she thrashed weakly.

The doctor used his free hand to turn a nozzle and a sizzle was birthed into the air. An oxygen mask descended towards her face.

Septima willed her heart into overdrive and flailed one handed even harder. She tried bringing her legs up to kick him but found they were already strapped to the table. She held her breath as he fixed the mask over her head and attached it with the elastic straps holding it in place with his hand as she tried to claw at it. In the pool she had a 4 minute breath hold. She could probably hold out for 2-3 now with all the energy she was exerting.

Clearly the doctor was surprised how long she could hold it and began to feel impatient. Perhaps even angry. Good.

“No. No. No darling Breathe. You need to breathe in Septima.” he urged. She refused.

He turned and grabbed a toilet plunger looking thing with his free hand as he locked her other arm together with the one above her head. He settled the contraption right in the middle of her abdomen, just underneath the ribs. “Breathe in. Breathe in. BREATHE!” He willed her, but she stubbornly held out.

By now her heart was thudding in her chest right up against her sternum. She could feel the urge to breathe rise up, but it didn’t overwhelm her. Yet. He held out a moment longer giving her a chance to comply before thrusting his weight behind the plunger. It riveted a shock wave of air from deep within her chest all the way up her esophagus. It resulted in what sounded like a grunt as air left her lungs. A significant amount of air, but she refused to take a breath. He thrust again. More air leaked out of her. “Come now darling.” he said through gritted teeth. Yep. He’s angry. That strengthened her resolve. Maybe he’d run out of gas soon. He thrust 3 more times in quick succession though these weren’t as forceful as the first 2. But now, her lungs were empty. The burning in her chest grew every second. Spots danced before her eyes.

She needed to breathe. She had to. AIR. It was all that mattered. She gave up the fight and inhaled. A pure deep, clean lungful of cold oxygen tainted with sweet tasting gas. Relief flooded her chest, her eyes rolled back. She took another shallow breath. Her head already spinning. But she was still intent on resisting further. Clearly he knew what she was thinking because he leaned into the plunger contraption again. The breath left her inflated lungs. Too soon! she screamed inside. She breathed in deeply again mouth open, desperate for air, her resolve failing.

One more time he thrust. By now she was barely conscious though still aware, lungs automatically filling in half bursts. Her body just stopped responding. Her precious heart slowed its rate again. Abnormally slow. It was calm and steady no matter how much she wanted it to kick into gear.

What the hell did he give me? she wondered. “Wrraanmrg…” was all that escaped her mouth.

“Yes. That’s it darling. That’s it. Give In to it! That a girl. Gooood. That’s right. Take a deep breathe. Just give in. Good girl! Yes darling, that’s it! Breathe! Just breathe in.” he crooned into her ear, one hand sliding right between her breasts to feel the surge of her chest rise and fall. She was no longer in control and she was losing consciousness. She yielded herself to him, no longer caring as his two fingers nestled in to feel her carotid pulse.

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cgunderwearstories · 7 months ago

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A Tattered Affair

Adrian never let go of his quirks, which is part of what made me love him so much. But one particular quirk—his attachment to ancient, tattered underwear—had become my favorite source of private amusement.

It all started with the oldest pair of bikini briefs he owned, white and worn thin from decades of loyalty. Adrian had proudly mentioned once that they were from college, back when he was 20, as though they were a trophy of endurance rather than a cry for replacement. Now, at 35, the elastic was stretched beyond reason, the fabric yellowed and frayed at the edges. But to him, they were “still functional.”

That Saturday morning, I found him doing housework in his sagging sweatpants. The waistband of the sweats was hanging lower than usual, and as he bent over to pick up a pile of laundry, I caught sight of a familiar white waistband peeking out.

My heart raced.

He moved around the living room with his usual focus, vacuuming here, tidying there. Each time he bent or stretched, the sagging sweats slipped lower, revealing more of those ancient white briefs. The fabric clung to him snugly, though the years had worn it so thin that I could make out the faintest shadow of his skin beneath.

I leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching with a sly smile. He was completely oblivious to my gaze, too immersed in his chores. My fantasy unfolded in my mind: I would sneak up behind him, tug those sweatpants all the way down, and relish the sight of him standing there, utterly exposed in those embarrassing briefs.

Finally, I couldn’t resist.

As he bent over to adjust the vacuum cord, I stepped forward and hooked my fingers into the loose waistband of his sweatpants. With one quick motion, I pulled them down to his thighs, leaving him frozen in surprise.

“Hey!” Adrian exclaimed, spinning around to glare at me.

I couldn’t help but laugh as my eyes drank in the sight before me. The briefs sat low on his hips, the waistband hopelessly stretched, and the fabric clung to his groin and backside in a way that was both hilarious and tantalizing.

“Those can’t possibly still fit you,” I teased, pointing at his underwear.

“They fit just fine,” he said defensively, though the pink flush creeping up his neck told me he knew better.

“From college, huh? What, did you buy them in bulk back then?”

He rolled his eyes and tried to pull his sweatpants back up, but I stopped him, placing a firm hand on his hip.

“No, no. Let me admire these,” I said, my voice dropping. I circled him like a predator, taking in every detail. The waistband was practically begging to give up, and the seat of the briefs was stretched thin over his backside, which had filled out considerably since his college days.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“And you’re adorable,” I shot back, giving his waistband a playful snap.

***

The second incident happened a few days later. Adrian had taken to lounging around in gym shorts, loose and comfortable, perfect for a lazy day. I was in the kitchen, scrolling through my phone, when I noticed something peculiar: as Adrian shifted on the couch, the hem of his shorts rode up ever so slightly.

I paused, my eyes narrowing.

There it was—bright yellow fabric peeking out from under the leg of his shorts. Bikini briefs, of course, because Adrian wouldn’t be Adrian without them. This pair was even more absurd than the last. A vivid, sunshine yellow with faint, white piping along the edges, it was hard to miss.

The fabric stretched over his thighs, and each time he shifted, the leg holes slid up, revealing just a bit more.

My fantasy played out in vivid detail. I imagined walking over, pretending to be casual, and leaning in to "adjust" his shorts. My fingers would graze the edge of the briefs, tugging at the waistband teasingly. I’d catch his expression as he realized what I was doing—a mix of surprise and mock outrage. Then, I’d yank his shorts higher, fully exposing those ridiculous yellow briefs and marveling at how much they revealed.

The reality wasn’t far off.

I walked over and plopped down beside him, resting a hand on his thigh.

“Comfortable?” I asked, letting my fingers drift to the hem of his shorts.

“Very,” he replied, not looking up from his book.

With a swift motion, I flipped up the hem of his shorts, exposing the bright yellow briefs in all their glory.

“Seriously, Adrian? Yellow?” I said, laughing.

He looked at me, feigning annoyance. “What’s wrong with yellow?”

“Nothing. Except you look like a banana.”

He groaned and tried to push my hand away, but I was faster. I grabbed the waistband of the briefs, giving them a gentle tug.

“These are... snug,” I remarked, letting the elastic snap back against his skin.

“Stop it,” he said, though his laughter betrayed him.

“Oh, come on. You love it,” I teased, sliding my hand up the side of his thigh, tracing the edge of the briefs.

Adrian sighed, shaking his head, but he didn’t move to stop me.

The tension between us simmered, electric and playful. I knew then that this wasn’t just about teasing anymore—it was about us, about how much we enjoyed these little games.

***

The third pair made its grand appearance on a lazy Sunday morning. Adrian was sprawled out on the couch, sipping coffee, clad in a bright orange pair with lime-green palm trees scattered across the fabric. The design screamed “tourist cliché,” but the state of the briefs was what drew my attention. The waistband drooped pitifully, stretched and frayed like a flag battered by years of storms. The leg holes were barely holding together, and the fabric was so thin that the lime-green palm trees had faded to a sickly yellow.

I couldn’t stop staring.

As Adrian adjusted his position, the waistband slipped lower, revealing even more of his backside. The fabric clung to him in a way that was both hilarious and oddly arousing. I imagined myself sliding behind him, teasing him until I could pull those ridiculous briefs right off. My fantasies took a darker turn—I wanted to destroy them, to rip them apart and free Adrian from their laughable grip.

“Do you like them?” Adrian asked, catching me staring.

“They’re… something,” I replied, hiding my grin.

***

The next pair appeared a week later. Adrian was doing yoga in the living room, his lanky frame bending and stretching with enviable grace. This time, he wore a faded pink pair adorned with tiny cartoon pandas. The pandas, once vibrant, now looked like ghosts of their former selves, and the elastic waistband was so loose it barely stayed above his hips.

I sat on the couch, pretending to scroll through my phone, but my eyes never left him. When he bent into a downward dog, the seat of the briefs stretched precariously, revealing that the fabric had thinned to near transparency. My heart raced. The temptation to walk over, grab hold of that pathetic waistband, and snap it was overwhelming.

As he moved into a plank, I stood up, unable to resist.

“You know, these briefs have seen better days,” I said casually.

Adrian looked back, his smile cheeky. “They’re classics! I can’t just throw them away.”

“That’s a shame,” I muttered, imagining the sound of the fabric tearing as I pulled them apart.

***

The Final Straw

The fifth time Adrian’s bikini briefs came into play, it was as though the universe itself was conspiring to make my fantasies come true. It was a Friday evening, and Adrian was in the kitchen preparing dinner, a delicious aroma filling the apartment. He hadn’t bothered changing after his workout, still clad in a fitted tank top and a pair of loose, black gym shorts.

From the moment I walked into the kitchen, I noticed it—the faint flash of color every time he shifted. He bent to check something in the oven, and the fabric of his shorts rode up just enough to confirm what I suspected.

Powder-blue with little white anchors printed all over them

I moved closer under the pretense of helping, but I was really just trying to get a better view. Adrian was focused, oblivious to my scheming, as he chopped vegetables on the counter. His movements caused his shorts to slide lower and lower with each subtle shift.

Finally, I couldn’t help myself.

“What are you wearing under there?” I asked, my voice laced with amusement.

Adrian glanced at me over his shoulder, his expression innocent. “Just underwear. Why?”

“Just underwear?” I echoed, stepping closer. “It looks like another pair of those cheap briefs you refuse to throw away.”

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “They’re not cheap. They’re vintage.”

“Vintage?” I laughed, sidling up behind him. My hands found his waist, tugging lightly at the hem of his shorts. “Is that what we’re calling torn and tattered these days?”

Before he could protest, I yanked the shorts down, leaving him standing there in nothing but his tank top and those ridiculous briefs. They were worse than I had imagined.

The bright blue fabric clung to him like a second skin, but the waistband was so worn out it sagged pathetically at his hips. There was a small tear along one leg hole, and the seat was stretched so thin it was nearly transparent, exposing the curve of his backside in a way that made my breath catch.

“Adrian,” I said, barely containing my laughter. “This pair is tragic.”

He turned to face me, his cheeks flushed. “I told you, they’re comfortable!”

“Comfortable?” I stepped closer, running my fingers along the waistband. “You mean ready to disintegrate.”

He tried to brush me off, but I grabbed him by the hips, pinning him gently against the counter. My hands slid down to his briefs, tugging at the frayed waistband.

“You’ve been tempting me with these things all week,” I said, my voice low. “You know what I’m going to do, don’t you?”

Adrian’s eyes widened, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.”

With a sharp pull, I ripped the waistband apart, the fabric giving way with a satisfying tear. Adrian let out a gasp as the briefs fell away in tatters, leaving him completely bare beneath his tank top.

“You’re a menace,” he said, though his laughter betrayed his delight.

“And you love it,” I replied, pulling him close.

Adrian wrapped his arms around my neck, pressing his forehead against mine. “Maybe I do,” he admitted, his voice soft.

We stayed like that for a moment, the ruined briefs forgotten on the floor. Dinner could wait. For now, I was content to revel in the sight of Adrian, free of those absurd bikini briefs, finally mine in every way.

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amagi2000 · 5 months ago

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Matthew Thomas QuartermainReFORm UK: Reigniting the Core

December 13, 2023 ·

Poor Greta. Life without petroleum and petroleum based products.

One crisp winter morning in Sweden, a cute little girl named Greta woke up to a perfect world, one where there were no petroleum products ruining the earth. She tossed aside her cotton sheet and wool blanket and stepped out onto a dirt floor covered with willow bark that had been pulverized with rocks.— with Build Backbone Better.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Pulverized willow bark,” replied her fairy godmother.

“What happened to the carpet?” she asked.

“The carpet was nylon, which is made from butadiene and hydrogen cyanide, both made from petroleum,” came the response.

Greta smiled, acknowledging that adjustments are necessary to save the planet, and moved to the sink to brush her teeth where instead of a toothbrush, she found a willow, mangled on one end to expose wood fibre bristles.

“Your old toothbrush?” noted her godmother, “Also nylon.”

“Where’s the water?” asked Greta.

“Down the road in the canal,” replied her godmother, Just make sure you avoid water with cholera in it.”

“Why’s there no running water?” Greta asked, becoming a little peevish.

“Well,” said her godmother, who happened to teach engineering at MIT, “Where do we begin?”

There followed a long monologue about how sink valves need elastomer seats and how copper pipes contain copper, which has to be mined and how it’s impossible to make all-electric earth-moving equipment with no gear lubrication or tires and how ore has to be smelted to a make metal, and that’s tough to do with only electricity as a source of heat, and even if you use only electricity, the wires need insulation, which is petroleum-based, and though most of Sweden’s energy is produced in an environmentally friendly way because of hydro and nuclear, if you do a mass and energy balance around the whole system, you still need lots of petroleum products like lubricants and nylon and rubber for tires and asphalt for filling potholes and wax and iPhone plastic and elastic to hold your underwear up while operating a copper smelting furnace and . . .

“What’s for breakfast?” interjected Greta, whose head was hurting.

"Fresh, range-fed chicken eggs,” replied her godmother. “Raw.”

“How so, raw?” inquired Greta.

“Well, . . .” And once again, Greta was told about the need for petroleum products like transformer oil and scores of petroleum products essential for producing metals for frying pans and in the end was educated about how you can’t have a petroleum-free world and then cook eggs. Unless you rip your front fence up and start a fire and carefully cook your egg in an orange peel like you do in Boy Scouts. Not that you can find oranges in Sweden anymore.

“But I want poached eggs like my Aunt Tilda makes,” lamented Greta.

“Tilda died this morning,” the godmother explained. “Bacterial pneumonia.”

“What?!” interjected Greta. “No one dies of bacterial pneumonia! We have penicillin.”

“Not anymore,” explained godmother “The production of penicillin requires chemical extraction using isobutyl acetate, which, if you know your organic chemistry, is petroleum-based. Lots of people are dying, which is problematic because there’s not any easy way of disposing of the bodies since backhoes need hydraulic oil and crematoriums can’t really burn many bodies using as fuel Swedish fences and furniture, which are rapidly disappearing - being used on the black market for roasting eggs and staying warm.”

This represents only a fraction of Greta’s day, a day without microphones to exclaim into and a day without much food, and a day without carbon-fibre boats to sail in, but a day that will save the planet.

Tune in tomorrow when Greta needs a root canal and learns how Novocain is synthesized.

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ateez-himari · 2 years ago

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ALONE WITH YOU [230928]

...

"Nobody knows, nobody loves you like I do."

The only source of light making the young woman's peaceful face visible was a small campfire burning a few feet away, its glow weakened by time spent without fuel, though it did not seem to stop the man standing beside her from losing himself in her faintest of smiles. Loosely tied hair fell down to cover her face as she busied herself with carefully stacking used dishes atop each other and his ringed fingers were quick to tuck the rebel strings behind her pierced ear, finding it an excuse to admire her over all over again.

"You don't have to do that every time you know." She laughed, gently swatting his hand away. "At this rate I'll never finish cleaning up."

"Your hair keeps blocking your pretty face...how else am I supposed to look at you, hm?" His voice trailed off into a whisper as his palms slid down her body before resting on her waist. "It's not my fault you're so addicting."

With a small shake of her head his girlfriend rolled her eyes in mock exasperation and placed a quick peck on the corner of his lips before nimbly slipping out out of his longing hold. This chaste touch however did not satisfy the man's ever growing desire to have her undivided attention and one of his bare arms found itself wrapping around her midsection, pulling her back so tightly against his chest she could almost feel his heartbeat on her spine. Although the young woman desperately wanted to finish her task so that they could continue their evening without any further responsibilities she found herself melting into the safety of her boyfriend's warmth, letting the smell of his cologne flood her senses.

"Doesn't it feel better like this love?" His deep voice chuckled barely inches from her ear, his warm breath against her skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. "We'll take care of it later, right now I need to have you to myself, I can't stand just watching you anymore."

"We're stuck together almost every day of the year and you can't let me go for a few minutes?" She giggled, placing a hand atop his forearm whilst the other intertwined with his free one.

"It's not the same...I can't treat you as my girlfriend with other people around, let alone cameras. You have no idea how hard it is trying not to touch you or kiss your perfect lips when you laugh."

Despite having heard countless loving rambles from him over their relationship her heart began thumping against her chest at his words, face completely flushed as she turned around to look into his eyes forced into crescents by his wide smile. Under his adoring gaze it felt as though she was falling in love all over again, tears pricking her eyes for an unknown reason as she placed both hands on the man's biceps before pressing her lips to his, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat as she did so. In that moment the speaker's faint music mixed itself with the sound of waves crashing onto nearby rocks and both sounds fell on deaf ears as the couple lost themselves in the other's embrace, unprovoked giggles erupting ever so often from their connected lips.

"I love you so much Mingi." She whispered as they parted ever so slightly. "I can't believe the universe let me have you..."

"What am I supposed to think then, hm? Heaven sent down an angel just for her to land right in my arms...how lucky."

A wide grin pulled at the man's features when his girlfriend's face came to hide itself into the thin material covering his chest out of sudden timidity, his fingers instinctively ruffling her hair and further loosening the elastic's hold. Then without warning his long arms snaked around the young woman's waist and the ground's support vanished from beneath her feet, resulting in a small yelp resounding from her throat only for the table's hard surface to settle under her now seated body.

"You know...everything feels right when we're together like this." She admitted, soft fingers absently tracing the chain hanging from his neck. "My heart feels calm...and it's like everything stops."

Unable to find words matching the feelings whirling around in his own head the man simply leaned in, barely leaving any breathing room between the two as to tease his girlfriend whose mouth was already forming a slight pout before finally placing a languid kiss on her lips. Her eyes remained half lidded for a moment as if making sure this moment was not a mere dream but the euphoria emerging from ringed hands roaming over her sides quickly forced them closed.

"I love you...you're mine Hima. Always." He whispered breathlessly. "I don't know if I could ever handle a life without you in it. In every life time, you're mine and I'm yours whether we find each other or not."

"I'll find you Mingi...always."

#ateez 9th member #ateez au #ateez extra member #ateez female member #ateez imagines #kpop oc #kpop imagines

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alphaman99 · 2 years ago

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Mark Flatt

“Pulverized willow bark,” replied her fairy godmother.

“What happened to the carpet?” she asked.

“The carpet was nylon, which is made from butadiene and hydrogen cyanide, both made from petroleum,” came the response.

“Your old toothbrush?” noted her godmother, “Also nylon.”

“Where’s the water?” asked Greta.

“Down the road in the canal,” replied her godmother, ‘Just make sure you avoid water with cholera in it”

“Why’s there no running water?” Greta asked, becoming a little peevish.

“Well,” said her godmother, who happened to teach engineering at MIT, “Where do we begin?” There followed a long monologue about how sink valves need elastomer seats and how copper pipes contain copper, which has to be mined and how it’s impossible to make all-electric earth-moving equipment with no gear lubrication or tires and how ore has to be smelted to a make metal, and that’s tough to do with only electricity as a source of heat, and even if you use only electricity, the wires need insulation, which is petroleum-based, and though most of Sweden’s energy is produced in an environmentally friendly way because of hydro and nuclear, if you do a mass and energy balance around the whole system, you still need lots of petroleum products like lubricants and nylon and rubber for tires and asphalt for filling potholes and wax and iPhone plastic and elastic to hold your underwear up while operating a copper smelting furnace and . . .

“What’s for breakfast?” interjected Greta, whose head was hurting.

"Fresh, range-fed chicken eggs,” replied her godmother. “Raw.”

“How so, raw?” inquired Greta.

“But I want poached eggs like my Aunt Tilda makes,” lamented Greta.

“Tilda died this morning,” the godmother explained. “Bacterial pneumonia.”

“What?!” interjected Greta. “No one dies of bacterial pneumonia! We have penicillin.”

Tune in tomorrow when Greta needs a root canal and learns how Novocain is synthesized.

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dreamsatdusk · 10 months ago

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Black Face Masks and Respirators

@bisexualbaker

I am so sorry for the delay in getting this info to you. There's some Stuff going on over here and it also took me a while to comb through all the mask info I'd squirreled away to find the black ones.

This got so long I decided I'd best post it on its own rather than hijack the original post. In case others see this: this is a post about mask/respirator options in black. I have grouped them in rough categories, but if someone needs a mask to be explicitly certified against a specific standard, please research the specs and confirm for the model you are interested in. Also be mindful of where things are being sourced, as there have been issues with counterfeit respirators. Some resources on that front:

Counterfeit Respirators/Misrepresentation of NIOSH Approval: https://www.cdc.gov/niosh/npptl/usernotices/counterfeitResp.html (Pertains to N95s)

More Tips To Spot Counterfeit Respirators: https://www.cdc.gov/niosh/npptl/usernotices/AdditionalTips.html (More general advice for various types of respirators/masks)

The 3M Auras mentioned on the other post are an N95 and unfortunately they do not come in black at this time. (There has been a campaign to get them to make them in black and last I saw, there has been some attention from 3M.) They are widely considered a great mask though and many people find it well-fitting and comfortable. I've tried them and my face shape isn't quite suited to it I think because the staples dug into my cheekbones and I haven't seen most people mention that at all. But they have the best nose piece I've seen on any disposable respirator: very good at conforming to my face, padded, long enough to seal better than others.

Also there are several different models of Aura. The model I found at the local Home Depot was the one with blue rubber straps and I could not deal with wearing those. However the 9210+ has white braided elastic straps and those were great.

Getting into options in black:

"Surgical-Style":

This term is overloaded in many places these days, with everyday usage now often meaning a mask style by this term rather than indicating something like their ASTM level (or even if the have one). In this case I mean earloop face masks, typically but not always with pleated fronts, that are not respirators (e.g. not N95s, etc.). They may not be tight-fitting, as many models are focused on fluid resistance. The ones below are 3 or 4 ply and have various ASTM levels.

Armbrust has 3 ply masks in a variety of colours, including black: https://www.armbrustusa.com/products/usa-made-disposable-face-masks

Bandless style: https://www.armbrustusa.com/products/black-3ply-usa-made-disposable-masks?_pos=5&_sid=c44400ae4&_ss=r

Demetech - https://shop.demetech.us/products/copy-of-black-astm-level-3-disposable-face-mask-with-earloops-size-regular?variant=41286569328816

Altor: https://www.altorsafety.com/facemasks/black-facemask

Cranberry (that's the brand, the colour is black): https://aiden.health/products/cranberry-carbon-black-face-masks-astm-level-3-protection-fda-510k

High filtration face mask - Protective Health Gear: https://protectivehealthgear.com/collections/shop/products/high-filtration-face-mask?variant=42211501637865 These look more like some of the KN95s, but the maker does not claim them to be a type of respirator. They often have sales around holidays, between 35 - 50% off. There's currently a 35% off sale going. They have N95s too but those are only white.

KF94/KN95/FFP2:

This is the type that has more black versions than any other, so the below is only a short list of options.

Different ones are certified to different standards, so read up on individual details as needed.

KF94 - HappyLife: https://kollecteusa.com/products/happylifegooddaykf94-adult-black-mask?variant=35994428637333

KN95 - Armbrust: out of stock on black at the moment though. https://www.armbrustusa.com/products/us-made-kn95-mask?variant=40057768280197

KN95 - BNX:

Large: https://accumed.com/bnx-50-pack-kn95-face-mask-disposable-particulate-kn95-mask-made-in-usa-protection-against-dust-pollen-and-haze-50-pack-earloop-model-e95-black-4.html

Medium: https://accumed.com/bnx-20-pack-kn95-e95m-protective-face-mask-disposable-particulate-mask-made-in-usa-protection-against-dust-pollen-and-haze-black-20-pack-earloop-model-e95m.html

Demetech: https://shop.demetech.us/products/copy-of-d95-blue-particulate-respirator-fold-style-with-black-earloops-box-of-20 I dithered about where to group this - from what they said, I think they took their N95 design and made an earloop version. So it is NOT an N95 (and not NIOSH approved), but is a respirator style.

MaskLab: https://masklab.us They have some black options, along with a whole lot of patterns. Check the details on the various ones for what they are - the ones I looked at are FFP2, which is a European standard.

Powecom: https://bonafidemasks.com/Black-Powecom-KN95-Face-Mask

BreatheTeq KN95: Black in several sizes https://breatheteq.com/collections/all

Various models KF94: https://behealthyusa.net/collections/black

WellBefore KN95: https://wellbefore.com/products/kn95-disposable-fda-ce?variant=32907790909569

N95s:

True N95s always have head straps, not ear loops. They have received NIOSH approval - see link up top for info on how to validate authenticity. There aren't a ton out there in black, likely given their primary pre-pandemic use cases. But there are some.

BNX: They have two styles in black https://accumed.com/bnx-n95-mask-niosh-certified-made-in-usa-particulate-respirator-protective-face-mask-10-pack-approval-number-tc-84a-9315-model-h95w-black-3.html Trifold: https://accumed.com/bnx-n95-mask-black-niosh-certified-made-in-usa-particulate-respirator-protective-face-mask-tri-fold-cup-fish-style-10-pack-approval-number-tc-84a-9362-model-f95b-headband-black.html

Benehal: I've seen positive reports on their black N95, but at the moment I haven't found anything but the white ones for sale on legit sites that ship to/in the US.

Demetech: https://shop.demetech.us/products/black-n95-respirator-mask-fold-style-niosh-approved-box-of-20-size-regular

WellBefore: https://wellbefore.com/products/n95-medical-mask-fda?variant=32909323436161

VitaCore: Okay a note here: these are a Canadian manufacturer model certified to a standard in use in Canada. Their white version is also a NIOSH certified N95. The black is newer and is certified in Canada but the NIOSH process isn't done yet so VitaCore isn't selling them on their US site yet. However they did approve a reseller to sell the black ones in the US here. I've heard great things about these and am getting some to try myself. https://www.protectly.co/products/vitacore-can99-black-respirator-mask

Elastomeric Respirators:

These are reusable respirators, where you replace the filter material, but the overall respirator is reusable (made of rubber, etc). On the one hand they are widely held to be the most comfortable options for long term use and once the initial investment is made, it's less expensive to buy replacement filters than disposable respirators. Even the filters themselves can be used for a long time before replacement compared to a disposable. That said, these respirators are more 'noticeable' in style and like with any mask, not all models are going to be comfy on all face shapes.

I can't think of any ones with black filter materials but some of the respirators themselves come in black or can be painted. And some have housing over the filters such that you don't see much of the filter material itself except through little holes. If anyone is interested in more info on some of the more common models though, let me know.

I'll mention one that has a black faceplate option and is less obtrusive looking in style, that I also have personally tried: FloMask: https://www.flomask.com Adult and child modes available. I advise the halo strap for the top strap for staying put and comfort, especially if you have longer hair. There are two different levels of filter material available, interchangeable in the same respirator. They also have two different mask styles to suit different nose bridges.

Strapless:

I'm only familiar with ReadiMask, and I think those are just in yellow or grey. But mentioning them anyway to cover the use case of needing a respirator without metal parts. They are an actual N95, but use adhesive rather than straps. Very comfortable and can be worn in MRI machines. They'd also work well for things like massages IMO because laying on your face is comfortable in these.

https://readimask.com

https://alliantbiotech.com/product/readimask-strapless-n95-niosh-approved

They have different sizes. But in my experience, unless your face is VERY small, you probably need at least the Large size. There are instructions on how to measure your face for size.

---

Some other notes:

Armbrust has a mask sampler for $40 https://www.armbrustusa.com/products/armbrust-mask-sampler-kit?_pos=3&_sid=debca69cb&_ss=r Some of the samples are masks that do not come in black but some are ones that you can buy in black, 3 or 4 of them (though I think all the samples themselves are white or blue).

#COVID #COVID 19 #Health

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thehousepatron · 9 months ago

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A bit about how spiders eat their meals.

Soup is back on the menu boys! In fact, it never left the menu. Soup all day, every day. Which is something us autumnal folk and our arachnid friends have in common.

I’ve talked a bit about the chemical makeup of spider silk in another post (which you can find under my ‘spiders (and some other arachnids)’ tag), but for the purpose of this post, I’ll break it down:

Spider silks, scientifically, are categorised as ‘Spidroins’, of which there are many types, making the analysis very complex. There were originally thought to be two types of one MaSp (Major Ampullate Silk Protein - or dragline silk): spidroin-1 and spidroin-2, however with progression in research, there have been revealed to be many more.

Spidroins are part of a large group of proteins called Scleroproteins, of which we have a few, too, including collagen proteins and keratins.

There are seven main kinds of spider silk used to construct webs and snare prey, however in this post I’ll be talking mainly about AcSp2 (Aciniform Spidroin - the spidroin responsible for the webs constructed to wrap prey).

First, the spider wraps their prey in the AcSp2 spidroin (the snare). Then, they begin to digest the prey externally, their digestive fluids reducing both the prey and the AcSp2 web fibres to soup.

For the most part, the exact contents of spider digestive fluid is unknown, however one study of the Uloborus Sp. (Feather legged lace weaver, North America) examined the midgut protein content (I’ll link my sources below).

Proteins found in this spider’s midgut include peptidases (both endo and exopeptidases: cisteine, serine and metallopeptidases.), carbohydrases (alpha-amylase, chitinase and alpha mannosidase) and lipases.

Peptidases are involved in the degradation of proteins. Carbohydrases break down carbohydrates - chitinase is responsible for breaking down chitin (found in the exoskeletons of insects). Lipases break down fats.

Among these digestive enzymes, toxins were also identified: enzymes thought only to be unique to venomous spiders were also found in the guts of non venomous spiders, such as Sphingomyelinase D, suggesting a common origin between digestive enzymes and those found in venoms.

From what I can gather, Sphingomyelinase D (a phospholipase - it hydrolyses phospholipids into fatty acids (liquifies shit)) is responsible for inducing dermal necrosis (which basically kills the skin tissues / causes cell death).

Anyway. Spiders regurgitate this digestive cocktail onto and into their prey in a process known as EOD - extra oral digestion (because it happens outside of the body).

Other enzymes present in spider venoms include hyaluronidases, astacins and serine peptidases.

Hyaluronidases degrade hyaluronic acids (hyaluronic acids are commonly used in skincare and are proven to help wound healing, reduce scarring and aid the skin’s elasticity).

Astacins help with the degradation of polypeptides - so again, they help break down proteins.

And that’s the bite size version of how spooders eat. Enjoy your soup.

Refs:

#spiders (and some other arachnids)#spiders #arachnids #arachnophilia #special interest #special interest blog

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harveyguilleniconodelamoda · 1 year ago

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Summer Style: Pretty in Pink

Harvey's summer outfits have really popped lately with some intriguing pieces in pink! Even better, these items come from companies with mission statements that tie into some element of Harvey's style ethos. So here's a rundown of all the fun & thought-provoking summer style he's been serving.

Wolf & Badger Juliette Kimono

This flowy, handmade chiffon kimono by Jennafer Grace screams summer relaxation. It features peachy-pink flowers on a blue-white background, and originally came in sizes up to a women's XXL (it is unclear what measurements this translates to, as the website's size guide does not provide them). All sizes except for M and L are currently out of stock. It retails for $175.

Jennafer Grace is an independent designer based in San Diego, California. She specializes in handmade, eclectic garments and accessories inspired by vintage style and cinema. Wolf & Badger is a B-corp certified business that sells clothing from independent brands worldwide. They prioritize sustainability and ethical production practices.

(B-corp certification is a designation conferred by B Lab Global, an international non-profit network that seeks to raise corporate standards across the globe. In order to earn a B-corp certification, a business must meet specific markers of social and environmental performance, corporate governance and accountability, and transparency.)

LungeMan Electric Pink Swim Trunks

Though of course there is margin for error whenever we cannot see specific labels or defining features, it appears that these trunks are the Electric Pink LungeMan shorts from Sleeves Sold Separately, a family-owned athletic wear boutique based in Southern California.

The LungeMan is described as a retro gym short that doubles as workout shorts or swimming trunks. The shorts are made of a stretchy nylon-spandex blend with a low-cut elastic waistband, moisture-wicking liner, zippered back pocket, and a 4-inch inseam. They are designed to be comfortable while also being fitted, to allow the wearer to show off their legs. As such, the cut is tailored for men with larger glutes and thighs, and comes in sizes up to XXL (37-38-inch hip). They are currently low in stock, with sizes M and XXL being out of stock entirely. They retail for $75.

The founders of Sleeves Sold Separately, Naomi and BJ, say they aim to provide athleisure apparel that celebrates the masculine body, a goal stemming from BJ's own struggles with weight, body image, and fashion. As a both a kid in a larger body and an adult in a thinner body, BJ says he struggled to find any fashion options that made him feel confident and like his body was being celebrated. "My mission is simple," says BJ. "I’m just gonna create all of the apparel I want in my closet for every training and social situation." (Source)

(A personal note: While I don't agree with the way BJ implicitly equates fitness with a smaller body on their about page, I definitely sympathize with the struggle to find clothes that make me feel confident, and celebrate any company working to alleviate that struggle for others.)

Affordable Options

Technically, the trunks already fall into the "under $100" affordability threshold. But here are a few other options as well!

Hot Pink Beach Shorts - $9.96 from Walmart, available in sizes up to XXL (45-inch waist).

Neon Pink Swim Trunks - $55 from Coastal Cool, available in sizes up to 3XL (45 5/8-inch waist, 52 3/4-inch hip).

It was surprisingly difficult to find any full-length chiffon kimonos that matched the vibe and quality of the one Harvey wears above. In the end I only found one, and it didn't meet the affordability threshold.

#harvey guillén #fashion #plus size fashion #menswear #casual wear #summer 2024 #wolf & badger #sleeves sold separately #swimwear #summer #affordable options

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gettingfrilly · 2 years ago

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Make up your Ed

I truly cannot look at this anymore but I don't want it languishing away in my google docs forever with no feedback. It can stand as a complete fic as is, but I do have plans to make it longer. Once I actually finish it, and edit it properly, I'll upload it to ao3 with an explicit rating. But for now, it's rated T, and only here on tumblr. All characters are 18 years old.

The plastic folding step stool creaks under his feet, a sure sign that it's either getting too old, or Eddy's getting too fat. He quickly decides the problem is the former theory as he grabs the see-through makeup case off the top shelf lining the walls of his closet, hidden behind a box of comic books. Careful with his cargo, he takes a slow step off of his stool, then saunters back into his bedroom and places the case on his nightstand. The plastic is smooth and cool under his hands as he thumbs open the latches, lifting the lid and running his fingers along the chunky, rougher, opaque plastic bordering the edges of the box. He painted the edges black himself when he first bought it using the money he got for his 15th birthday. The lines are painstakingly clean despite how much his hands had been trembling at the time.

There's more plastic inside, clear dividers creating organized compartments for his assortment of cosmetics, the collection a result of years of careful selection. Brushes and blenders, pallets and powders, dispensers, sprays, tubes, and polish create an array of colors, glass and plastic containers glinting amber under the glow of his lava lamp. Sucking on his tongue in consideration, he starts to pluck items from each section, putting together a color palette that suits the task at hand.

"Thank you for doing this."

Eddy turns to face the source of the soft voice, Double D sitting in the center of his circular bed, knees drawn to his chest as he pulls and snaps the elastic in the hem of his knee high sock, repeating the motion in intervals as he gazes down at Eddy's bed sheets. It's the first time he's spoken since entering his bedroom.

It was with that same soft voice he had asked Eddy on their walk home from school if he'd be willing to do Double D's makeup. The crunch of freshly fallen snow underneath their boots made Eddy unsure if he had heard him right over the noise.

"You want me to do your makeup?"

"Yes, if it's no bother. If it is a bother, then that's fine, it was just a thought."

"You, as in you, Double D, want me, as in me, Eddy, to do your makeup, as in putting sticky and powdery and wet stuff on your face using the same brushes and sponges I use on my own face?" Eddy repeated himself, pointing at Double D and himself in turn before gesturing at their faces.

Double D had huffed through his nose at him, already red-from-the-cold cheeks growing redder as he glared at the path ahead. "Like I said, if it's a bother-"

He cut himself off with a squeak as Eddy grabbed his hand and started jogging home, a wide grin splitting his chapped lips. Ed wished them luck before he was out of earshot, waving them off with his usual goofy smile.

He had ranted at Double D the whole way home, recounting tales of his exploits during the handful of times he drove up to Buffalo for a Saturday night of clubbing and drag, enjoying what the queer scene there had to offer. Stories were interspersed with boasts about his styling skills and the amount of eyes he caught and attention he drew, promising Double D that he’d turn him into a standout masterpiece that any queen would envy. The more he went on, however, the quieter Double D had become, until he had stopped talking completely and kept his eyes glued to the ground.The shift in mood didn’t go unnoticed by Eddy, who slowed his pace and started cracking jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood. Double D paid only minimal attention to him, and by the time they got to Eddy’s room, Eddy found himself sour and uneasy, wondering what the hell could be going on with him.

"No prob, Bob." He grabs Double D’s wrist and pulls his arm closer, flipping it over to reveal the paler side underneath. "Just make sure to use your math skills after to figure out how much money you owe me based on how much makeup I use."

That earns him a dry, withering look.

"Jeez, relax. Can't you take a joke?" He asks as he starts applying swatches of different foundations, watching the tendons in Double D's arm flex under the wet makeup sponge.

"As if I had no reason to believe you might have been serious."

"Oh lighten up." Eddy retorts, starting to bristle under Double D's prickly responses. "You're the one who asked me to do this, ya know—and here you are acting like you're about to go under the knife."

Double D has enough humility to look away sheepishly, averting his gaze and worrying at his lip. "...I know. I'm sorry, Eddy. I should be more grateful."

"Or just a little less bitchy." Double D looks back at Eddy to glare at him, but his expression softens when he sees the small smile on Eddy's face, only teasing him.

"I'll do my utmost."

"Good." Eddy says in response both to Double D and to finding a foundation that matches, putting the rest away as he grabs the makeup he selected and dumps it on the bed. The makeup rolls over the comforter as Eddy's weight creates dips in the mattress, crawling the oversized expanse of it until he's on his knees in front of Double D. He takes Double D's face in his hand, still cool from the face wash and moisturizer he used in Eddy's bathroom. Using one of his cleaner sponges, he starts applying primer, careful not to get any in Double D's exposed hairline. His sparse, dark hairs are held back by Eddy's makeup stained cloth headband, giving him a rare look at the full shape of Double D's face.

"Why do you wanna wear makeup?" Eddy finally voices the question that's been in the back of his mind since his excitement diminished.

"Well, why not?" Double D answers his question with his own question. "You wear makeup sometimes."

"I meant why all of the sudden."

"All of a sudden, Eddy." Double D corrects him while trying not to move his face too much.

"All of these nuts in your mouth." He mutters, hands unfortunately too busy for him to emphasize the point by grabbing his own crotch.

"Eddy, please."

"Just answer the question, Sockhead."

Double D pouts and is quickly scolded by Eddy into keeping his face still. "Just a whim, I suppose. Am I not allowed a whim now and again?"

"I just wouldn't exactly describe you as whimsical."

"Well. We all have our moments."

A silence follows the exchange, Eddy far from satisfied by Double D's answer. He's too distracted by contouring Double D's weird head to interrogate him further, though, too used to working with his own square shaped face. Thankfully for him, it's not too hard to get answers from someone who typically doesn't know how to shut the fuck up.

"Did you ever think you might be a woman?"

"Huh?" Eddy pauses at the sudden question, backing away from Double D's face, applicator hovering in midair.

Double D puckers his lips as if he tastes something sour, pulling the elastic of his sock further away from his shin before letting it snap back. "I mean... with your long standing fascination with clothing, hair products, and fragrances, and then dresses and makeup more recently. Didn't it ever cross your mind?"

He frowns at Double D's simplification of gender, though he understands what he means. Thinking to himself quietly, he goes back to shaping Double D's chin, taking a moment before answering. "Sort of, I guess. Briefly."

"Really?" He asks, voice tinged with hope.

"Yeah, back when I was still having my big ol' gay crisis. Pretty sure sexuality and gender crises go hand in hand. I mean, I liked boys, and I wasn't supposed to because I'm a boy. Makes you question shit."

"Just how much were you questioning?"

Eddy waves his free hand noncommittally before capping the applicator and reaching for the foundation he selected. "Eh. Enough to make me sweat over it for a bit. I kept asking myself which would be worse: being a gay man, or being a woman?"

"Oh." Double D says with a wince.

"Yeah, oh." Eddy agrees with his distasteful cringing.

"Do you still question yourself?" Double D hedges.

"Nah. Eventually figured I didn't want to be a chick, I just wanted to have a boyfriend. I hadn't fully realized there was a difference."

"But you still wear makeup and dresses."

Eddy shrugs. "Yeah, 'cause it's fun."

Double D raises the brow Eddy just shaped. "How so?"

"It's like... a joke, kinda." He answers after chewing on the question for a moment. "It's what people expect from a gay man. So fine, I'll do it. And I'll be smokin' hot and have fun with it. Hopefully make people really uncomfortable along the way, 'cause fuck 'em.” He punctuates his statement by popping open a tube of concealer. “That, and I spent my whole childhood being terrified over being masculine enough. It's a relief, knowing drag doesn't make me any less butch when I'm not in drag."

Double D hums. "Yes, I suppose even when you're in drag or just makeup, I wouldn't exactly describe you as feminine."

"Me neither. Is that what this is about, then?" Eddy asks, gesturing at the makeup on his bed and on Double D's face, starting to get the picture of what’s been making Double D so fidgety.

"Oh, me? No, I- well... perhaps. I don't know, it's all so confusing, Eddy.” He has to pause in his makeup application while Double D’s face goes through a wide range of expressions, Eddy huffing in frustration before forcing himself to be patient and listen.

“It's something I've been teased about my whole life, to the point where I'm starting to feel there's something about me other people know that I don't.” Double D admits, face settling on a small frown and wrinkled brow. “While I can admit I've always been a tad feminine-"

"Who says you're feminine?"

"Oh, come on, Eddy."

"I'm serious, Dee. What, 'cause you don't like sports? You spend more time reading than tossing a ball around? You're into bugs and nature and organic food?" He starts waving the concealer wand around like a conductor’s baton, jabbing it in Double D’s direction with each question asked.

Double D gives him a flat look, unmoved by his impassioned gesturing. "Eddy, you have accused me of being a sissy time and time again for those very same supposedly nonsensical reasons."

Eddy crosses his arms, careful to not get any concealer on his shirt. "Yeah, when I was a kid. I'm a different man now." He bristles, offended by Double D’s implication that he’s still some bigoted preteen.

"We're still kids, Eddy." Double D’s voice is almost too quiet to hear, as if he’s admitting something shameful.

"Speak for yourself."

Silence falls again, and Eddy takes the opportunity to get back to work. His mind wanders as he goes through the practiced motions of putting on makeup, going off of muscle memory as he tries to figure out just why Double D is being so cagey about this. He’ll never forget how casually Double D came out to him and Ed, only in eighth grade when he told them one sleepover that he was ‘fairly certain I’m bisexual.’ Buttery popcorn had fallen right out of Eddy’s hand and onto Ed’s sticky basement floor, feeling like someone just put his head through a brick wall, ears ringing from the non existent head wound and leaving him too unfocused to pay attention to the questions Ed asked in response. He continued to perform his best impression of a gobsmacked cartoon character until Double D had called out his name in the same tone he uses when he thinks Eddy is about to do or say something stupid. It took him a couple more seconds to recover before he was able to mutter out a ‘whatever floats your boat, Sockhead,’ quickly changing the topic of conversation afterward.

He didn’t sleep a wink that night—just lay awake staring at the glow in the dark stars him and Double D had put all over Ed’s ceiling two birthdays ago, trying to figure out how the hell someone could admit to something like that so easily. Wasn’t Double D terrified? Wasn’t he disgusted? Didn’t he hate himself? And why in the name of Christ and fuck and shit was part of him goddamn happy about this?

It had taken two more years for Eddy to be able to even say he’s gay out loud to himself, never mind to anyone else. When he did eventually come out to the other Eds, it was after a night of nervous binge eating, hours of trying to ramp himself up to it only to stuff his open maw with more junk food instead of letting the words come out. Eventually, Double D had suggested bedtime, and stabbed through the heart with panic as if he’d never get a chance again, Eddy stood, ready to spill his guts out—only to run for the bathroom to puke them out instead. Ed and Double D followed him close behind, and he whispered his confession into the porcelain, sniffling wetly and getting a lungful of vomit smell as he watched his tears drop into the mess below. He was a pathetic disaster, Ed’s attempts to soothe him with a bedtime story going ignored as he hyperfocused on the feeling of Double D’s cool hand running up and down his back. They went on their first date two weeks later.

So now he’s totally thrown off, the ill-fitting shoe on the other foot as he discusses gender identity casually while Double D works at picking a hole into his sock and looks anywhere but at Eddy. Double D never seemed to be insecure about his masculinity before, at least, as far as Eddy knows. If anything, Eddy had been insecure enough for the both of them, frequently pushing Double D to lift or run or take up boxing, anything to up his man cred. Double D had always been resistant, stating each time that his abilities simply lie elsewhere. Had he been self conscious about it all this time and Eddy just never picked up on it?

"Perhaps I was speaking only for myself. I fear you're far more mature than I am, Eddy."

Eddy leans back, startled not just by Double D talking after such a long silence, but by the content of his sentence, too. "Hold up.” He makes a show of digging his pinky into his own ear before tilting his head and slapping the side of it as if he’s trying to get something to fall out the other end. “I know I didn't hear that right. I've never heard you say I'm more ANYTHING than you. Other than loud or rude or messy or other negative shit."

"Well it's the truth!” It’s the loudest Double D has spoken tonight, his hands thrown up into the air dramatically. “I've been left behind in the proverbial dust, Eddy. You and Ed are so sure of who you are. Even you, who used to be the most insecure, awkward, and desperate for inclusion out of the three of us."

"Gee, thanks." Eddy replies, voice dry as the desert and hollow as Ed’s head.

"And now you're able to just... be!” Double D continues, ignoring his own accidental insult towards Eddy. “Without worrying about what others expect or want from you. The only reason you remain in the closet locally is to avoid consequences at home. But with yourself, or in the city, you're so genuine, so unashamed. Yet the older I get, the more unsure of myself I become, as if puberty somehow made me immature. I have no idea who I truly am. I'm rather jealous of you, Eddy." Double D’s excitement peters out as he goes on, slumping forward in defeat as his hands return to his knees.

“Oh. I get it.” And he does, finally. This isn’t just a gender crisis, it’s a growing up crisis, which is much more on track for Double D’s neuroses. Whether he becomes a woman or not, he’s still not gonna be a ‘boy’ anymore.

“Get what?”

“Shut up and listen, because I got something to say and also because I need you to not move your face for a while. I’ll try to put this in words your weirdo crazy bananas brain can understand.”

Double D follows Eddy’s instructions, tightly pressing his lips together and freezing his face into an impressive stock-stillness.

Eddy nods his approval, capping the concealer before grabbing a brush to start blending. “Okay, so. It’s like… we’re just molecules. I said don’t move your face!” Eddy scolds Double D for his poorly repressed grin, apparently finding Eddy’s attempt at using scientific jargon just so goddamn funny. “I know what a fucking molecule is, ya know. I’m not that shit at school.”

“Anyway,” he continues once Double D wipes the smirk off his face, “we’re molecules and atoms and junk. I don’t know who I truly am because there is no ‘who I truly am.’ You could break me apart into the smallest possible pieces looking for it and all you’d find is a bunch of loosely connected random shit.” He grabs a smaller brush to blend in the nooks and crannies of his face. “I never tried to look for who I am. I just spent my life trying to be someone everyone liked, which is impossible, and wanting to be something impossible just made me miserable and mean and shitty. I couldn’t be a complete person.”

Double D opens his mouth like he wants to protest, brows drawn in concern, but Eddy raises his hand to silence him. “It’s in the past. Then there was the whole running away fiasco, and then puberty hit me like a sack of bricks and life was already hard e-fucking-nough, so I tried to dial it back, just be someone that most people will like. That shrunk down to some people, then to just the other kids in the neighborhood, and one day I asked myself, well shit, why not be someone I like? I’ve never liked myself before. Should probably give it a shot.”

“Oh, Eddy.” Double D won’t be silenced this time, grabbing Eddy’s free hand and squeezing it tightly as he gives him his usual concerned mother face. Eddy sighs through his nose and squeezes his hand back, running his thumb in the junction between Double D’s thumb and pointer finger.

“Like I said, it’s in the past.” He slips his hand out of Double D’s and carefully applies lip liner while holding his chin. “All I’m saying is you gotta stop spending so much time up here,” he taps Double D’s forehead, “and try spending a little more time in here,” he finishes, placing his hand over Double D’s chest.

Double D looks down before glancing back up with a smirk. “In my udder?”

Eddy rolls his eyes at the callback, taking his hand back to get to finishing up. “Yeah, your udder. That’s where you’ll find the person you want to be.”

“So you’re a gay man because you wanted to be a gay man?” He asks flatly.

“Well. No. Okay, so, some of it is probably generic.”

“Genetic.”

“Whatever. The bulk of it, though? How we act, what labels we choose, what clothes we wear, whether we wear makeup or not—that’s all from exposure and desire. We’re all just cobbled together, Dee.”

“Is it really that simple?” Double D asks, sounding equal parts hopeful and doubtful.

Eddy shakes his head. “Nope. Having a true self you could look for under a microscope is what would be simple. Real life’s a lot more complicated than that.”

Double D widens his eyes, breath catching softly in his throat as he stares Eddy down. Eddy narrows his eyes back at him, unsure if he should feel complimented or offended by Double D’s reaction.

“Eddy… since when did you become so wise?”

Offended, then. “Since when did you only give me compliments that were backhanded? Just kidding, you’ve always done that. Now for real, hold still and shut up. Lemme do your eyes.”

Double D complies, trying his best to keep his wincing to a minimum as Eddy pokes and prods his lids. As long as he doesn’t start mumbling about pink eye, Eddy can put up with the occasional fidgeting. Once the eyes are done, all that’s left is the lipstick, and Eddy purposefully takes his time with it, Double’s D’s chin clutched between his fingers as his eyes slip shut, a soft blush glowing through the layers of makeup. Fuck, he’d kiss him it wouldn’t mess up his work.

“Okay, done.” He gropes around his night stand until he finds his gold painted hand mirror, shoving it in Double D’s direction. “Go ahead and lay on the praise for my incredible skills.”

Double D takes a deep breath before lifting the mirror and opening his eyes, face freezing at what he finds. Silent seconds slowly tick by as Eddy waits for any sort of appraisal, positive or otherwise, arms crossed and finger tapping against his arm.

“... I look like my mother.”

Eddy’s wince is automatic and unstoppable. “Mmrh. But, like, a hot version of your mom, right?”

“Eddy, my mother is-” Thankfully for Double D, for Eddy, for the reader, for the author, and for the universe at large, he cuts himself off before finishing that sentence. “And it’s so conservative.”

Eddy shrugs. “Yeah, well. You don’t usually go for gaudy.” He had picked a color palette he’d never pick for himself, all natural colors that would mix well with Double D’s skin tone, highlighting his innate beauty and giving his face a more feminine shape without making him look like he was about to start lip syncing to Shania Twain. The only splash of color he gave him was the lipstick, a deep cherry red and one of Eddy’s favorites.

“I don’t. You put so much thought into this, Eddy.” He murmurs, the content of his sentence not at all matching his dismayed tone.

“You hate it.”

“No, it’s not that. You did an exceedingly good job, your high skill is abundantly obvious, and I am still very grateful.” He quickly explains, still staring at himself in the mirror. “It’s just… I didn’t expect… I thought-” he takes a deep breath and sighs, putting the mirror down. “I feel the same.”

Eddy takes a deep breath through his nose and purses his lips, readying himself to be an ‘empathetic listener’ as Double D often describes it. At least he doesn’t have to put on the fake empathy face for him like he does for other people. “Okay. How did you think you would feel?”

“Different.” Double D gives the obvious answer, and Eddy has to hold himself back from saying ‘no shit.’ He waits instead, keeping his face neutral and his eyes on Double D as he fiddles with his blanket, twisting his fingers into the fabric.

“I don’t know. Anything, really. Elated, horrified, enlightened, disgusted, at peace, unease. Anything would have been better than still just feeling confused.” Double D starts to clutch his own arms as he talks, fingers digging into the fabric of his winter cardigan. “I still don’t know who I want to be.”

“What, you thought it would happen overnight? I’d share my ‘wisdom’ with you and your big brain would just work out the rest?” He puts scare quotes around wisdom, withholding the impatient huff he wants to give. “Shit takes time, Sockhead. It took me years of self loathing and fear to get to where I am.

Double D looks less than thrilled by the prospect. “Uh. But who knows, might not be that bad for you. You’ll figure something out eventually. You always do, Dee.”

“I do, don’t I.” He gives Eddy a small smile, only slightly forced as he takes his hands in his own. “Thank you, Eddy. You’ve been very sweet to me tonight.”

“‘M always sweet.”

“Of course you are.” He leans in to give Eddy a peck on the corner of his mouth, a chaste and innocent gesture, but when they part Double D stares at Eddy’s mouth for a worrying amount of time.

“Huh? Oh.” Eddy finally figures out what he’s staring at. Double D always opposes messiness. “Yeah, I didn’t use any lipstick sealer. Figured you’d be taking it off right after, so-”

He’s cut off by a far less chaste kiss, Double D sealing his lips against Eddy’s before he starts shifting against them, hands flying up to grab Eddy’s shoulders in a bruising grip. Eddy can do nothing but flounder, his surprised exclamation muffled against Double D’s mouth. Seeing as there’s absolutely no reason not to, he surrenders himself, arms snaking around Double D’s smaller frame, pulling him closer until their bodies are flush against each other, putting up zero resistance when Double D pushes down to the mattress. Glass and plastic makeup containers tumble and clink against each other as their shifting weight creates new divots in the mattress, followed by the soft hush of something smooth sliding over Eddy’s silk sheets, landing on the carpet below with a dull thud.

‘Hope my mirror didn’t just break. Glass is a bitch to get out of shag carpeting.’ That’s all the brain resources he has available for the integrity of his cheap mirror right now, the rest of it occupied by the overwhelming presence and persistence of Double D, hands grabbing and squishing the usual suspects, i.e. Eddy’s stomach, thighs, and love handles. Shortly after Double D’s hands start to rove, his lips start to travel, too, across Eddy’s jaw, cheek, then neck, pulling back a little bit each time to gaze down dazedly at the gory red trail he’s left in his wake. Eddy lets him, making no moves to take control of the situation, just breathing heavily beneath Double D’s ministrations.

Eventually, Double D slows to a stop, sitting up with his knees on either side of Eddy’s stomach as he lightly traces the path of kiss marks decorating Eddy’s heated face. His eyes are unfocused, lids hooded, body loose and face relaxed, not at all the ball of nerves he’d been since their walk home.

“I still don’t know who I want to be.” He admits softly, giving Eddy one last kiss on the cheek before he lays on top of him and nuzzles into the side of his spacious neck. “But I know who I want to be with.”

Eddy wraps his arms around him again, tilting his head to the side to brush a kiss of his own against Double D’s ear, an always hypersensitive part of his body. It brings him close enough to be drawn in by the allure of Double D’s hypoallergenic laundry detergent and natural deodorant, shoving his nose in his shirt and huffing fumes that can really only be described as smelling ‘clean.’ He embraces and is embraced in return, wanting and wanted, loving and loved.

“And I already have you, Eddy.”

#ed edd n eddy #eene #eddeddy #gettingfrillywrites

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