#invisible formatting program

[jonquilandlace]

Someone should hire me for ideas on building a superior word processor specifically for dissertation writing I have so many good ideas

[bluemerakis]

────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ────

❝ skin covered in ego ❞

❝ all the stars ── ၊၊||၊|။||||။၊| ── kendrick lamar ft. sza ❞

─ ۶ৎ ─

pairing ୨୧ soldier boy x fem!supe!reader

warnings .ᐟ cussing, dual pov, angst, oral f receiving, unprotected sex p in v, fluff, just sappy drama actually. pls lmk if i forgot any :)

synopsis ─ a retrospect of how soldier boy meets his saving grace—a superhero he’d been forcibly co-partnered with during payback’s prime. throughout their time spent together, she helps to refine all the fragments of him that have always lingered within, but had lacked the grip to pull together into something whole—respectable. eventually, with her influence, he reinvents his image into a sense of self he can claim without pre-programmed shame, and in the process, he discovers just how pivotal her existence is within his formerly, self-centred universe.

word count ~ 9.2k

based on this fic

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ʿ Skin covered in egoʾ

Vought-American’s council room felt suffocated with the aged, bronze statues looming in every corner of the space—a dramatic glorification of countless Vought-owned Supes, both old and new alike, that you’d neglected to learn the names of. Like honourable guards, they perched on their metal posts with watchful eyes meant to convey a sense of security and comfort. But instead, the weight of their rusted, faux eyes compressed your lungs to the point of shallow, jittery breaths, and the impressive height on them made you feel belittled. Judged.

Misplaced—like you’d never measure up to all the virtues of Supe life that their metal forms had come to embody.

The unwelcoming, inanimate atmosphere was only given a certain life by the company’s executives, who’d personally received you at the doors and guided you into this room. But there’d been no genuine sentiment beyond professionalism to warm their welcoming smiles, and every advance they’d made in becoming better acquainted with you had felt orchestrated—robotic. It’d done little to soothe your unease, and everything to feed the mental monster fear-mongering your better judgement.

Now, in the midst of the council room, the executives were fanned out all around you in a formation that should’ve made you feel caged in—like you were about to be fed to something far worse than the statues’ lingering jaws of judgement. But even then, you didn’t seize any wise instinct to flee. You felt immobilised by dread—the dread plaguing the idea of new beginnings. Your new beginning as Payback’s newest, super-abled member.

The title should’ve left you feeling honoured. Where you should’ve celebrated the letter housing the formal invitation, you mourned the loss of the comforts you’d come to call home. Where you should’ve marvelled at the idea of getting to work with Vought-American’s renowned Supe team, you harboured only a nagging fear of never measuring up to their standards. Where excitement should’ve imploded within at the mere idea of meeting the Soldier Boy, only panic arrived to brace every inch of your mind.

You were terrified.

And what didn’t help your rattled lungs was the way the doors to the room seemed to part with a dramatised creak, displacing the tense silence momentarily—only to replace it with an overwhelming air of self-righteousness as the man you dreaded meeting finally strode into the room. It was as though all the air in the room parted and pressed up against the walls to accommodate his demanding existence, and all at the expense of everybody else unlucky enough to share the space.

Clad in the iconic green uniform you’d seen advertised across countless costume stores, Soldier Boy marched a line that drew directly toward you. His jaw was perched on some invisible stage of importance, his hardened eyes finding yours in a cynical standoff. His broad shoulders were braced with a practiced composure as he covered the length of the floor, and it only added to the overwhelming demeanour you were sure he’d forged for the sole purpose of intimidating everybody below his pay grade.

As he drew up before your waiting form, you found yourself rooted to the spot—frozen with the uncertainty of how to approach the figure you’d come to know as America’s icon. But thankfully, you were shielded from Soldier Boy’s grilling glare as the executives all around you stirred, taking turns to greet the leader of Payback with more enthusiasm than they’d showed you.

You took that moment to gather your wit, but your attention didn’t falter from Soldier Boy, and you couldn’t help but notice the way he came off as a dull, painful contrast to his bustling higher-ups. He seemed disinterested, gloved hand outstretched to deliver curt, half-hearted shakes—if only to fulfil the duty of formalities that must’ve come hand-in-hand with his position of import. It was so unlike the charming and chatty persona you’d grown used to seeing through on-screen commercial airings, but his aloofness didn’t seem to phase the executives.

It shouldn’t have surprised you, either. Meeting your heroes never went to plan. Reality wasn’t something that could be as carefully scripted as the faux media aired from every corner of America—and like that, you knew that Soldier Boy’s cheery personality was all an act. It’d fooled you, that’s for sure.

As you stood there, unable to tear your gaze away from America’s Sweetheart, you couldn’t help but seize the close-up company to study every detail about him—his sharp features rigged with enough tension to fuel an army, the captivating green of his eyes framed with a hard stare, and the soft, light brown hair that seemed to effortlessly catch the room’s light. And yet, for the long-standing reputation of war he’d forged his name within, there was not a single scar carved into his fair skin to reflect the records. But it didn’t make him less rough and raw.

And admittedly, he was breathtakingly beautiful—like he was made to be more of a God than a disciple.

Everything about him laid a siege on your lungs��made breathing the same air as him feel impossible. But you were forced to adapt when his attention finally forsook the executives to pin you down, and for a second, you saw him squint with a curiosity that mirrored your own. But the fraction of transparency he’d let weaken his carefully-curated mask was blinked away before he furthered his advance on you, effortlessly clearing a line through the loitering executives.

Subconsciously, you held your breath as you watched his taller frame stagger up to you. He drew up before you with an arm’s length of space to spare, the shy space breaching your bodies quickly becoming infused with his strong cologne. His gaze was intense as he searched between your features—enough of a silent interrogation to make your skin crawl with the urge to buckle your head. But you didn’t. You feigned bravery by holding his quiet challenge with a fragile determination, just hoping that he didn’t catch the subtle bop of your throat.

Your apparent boldness must’ve been an amusing feat on your part because the corner of Soldier Boy’s lips hitched with a light smirk. For a few seconds, neither of you said anything, but it did everything to thicken the air circulating between your faces. You wished he knew what was going through his mind as he scrutinised what felt like every inch of your face. It was intense—slightly uncomfortable, but you continued to hold his attention out of a petty need to prevail. Your head only buckled to shed his glare when movement on his part caught your eye, his hand finally neglecting his formation to lift in the offer of a greeting.

“What’s your name?” He asked—the sound unexpectedly sonorous. Dulcet. Composed. It’s not an octave you’ve ever heard broadcasted across the radio—so you figured it must’ve been a genuine detail about him. Something worth remembering.

Hesitantly, you reached out your own hand, drawing it rigid to still the nerves before you slid your fingers across his palm. Instantly, his own fingers seized your hand in a firm grasp—but he didn’t shake on it. It made you lift your head with mildly-alarmed curiosity, and when you met his gaze once more, you saw that same look of scrutiny he’d branded you with upon his arrival.

“Does the mouth on you talk, or’s it only there for the sake o’ pretty smiles? Which you still haven’t graced me with, by the way,” He said smoothly, features now polished with the same charm he often weaponised amongst his fans—as if you were some fangirl he’d expected to swoon under his influence.

You uttered a mental scoff at that. You’d be damned to let Soldier Boy believe your otherwise muteness was owed entirely to his presence—and while it definitely played a role, it wasn’t the singular circumstance holding your tongue hostage. Today had been extremely overwhelming. Draining. It had put a damper on your mood—and clearly made you come across as a meek thing star-struck into silence. But you were far from it, and if you were to work alongside Soldier Boy for the foreseeable years to come, you’d rather not have his first impression of you be a doting fangirl.

You firmed up your own grip on his hand, which the Supe acknowledged with a hitch of his brows and a subtle jut of his lower lip. “She speaks,” you replied eventually, thankful that the sound was clear and not breached by a quiver. “And she smiles when she’s smiled at, which I don’t seem to remember you doing, either,” you added with a certain spunk.

Soldier Boy grinned at that—perfect, white teeth blooming into view. But it didn’t last long, and it certainly wasn’t as authentic as the action was made to be. It quickly simmered into a laxity of his jaw, tongue poking out to drag across his lower lip—like he was attempting to understand you. “Alright,” he conceded ambiguously, his grip on your palm unrelenting. “Fair enough—and if you’re goin’ to be joinin’ my team, you better keep on makin’ points as valid as that,” he huffed half-heartedly, eyes making a bold dip toward your lips. “And some more,” he muttered distractedly.

You pretended not to notice his wandering, flirtatious eyes, your own gaze steadfast at eye level despite the faint hint of self-consciousness burning your body hot. “Our team,” you corrected thickly, which made the Supe’s attention snap back to you with a newfound focus that banished his play-boyish desires from existence.

“The hell you mean our team?” Soldier Boy demanded tensely, his voice roughened with a note of disapproval as he finally released your palm in disdain—like he’d touched something revolting. But he didn’t wait for your answer as his head swivelled to drink in the idling executives, and the glare on him must’ve been scathing because a few of them were instantly averting their attention—like students who didn’t want to be picked on by the prying teacher.

You watched the Supe retreat a stride as he sought to confront the only people in the room with more power than him—in title, at least. If it came down to getting physical, god bless their souls.

“The fuck is she on ‘bout, huh?” He snapped, his voice resonating across the room. “Payback’s mine—I built this team up from the fuckin’ ground. I own each and every one o’ those sorry shits—turned them into somethin’ worth a damn! So if you think I’m just gonna step aside and let some dreamy-eyed rookie take the credit, you better think again—or somebody’s gettin’ their useless fuckin’ head bashed in.”

You grimaced at the temper on him. It took one hell of an ego to speak so confidently about one’s ability’s, and you didn’t doubt Soldier Boy harboured enough of it to represent the entire male population. It made you wonder how his super suit could contain all six feet of it.

The executives had warned you about his temper prior to this meeting, and the likelihood of an outburst once the news finally reached him. You’d taken it with a grain of salt—unconvinced that the leader of Payback could be so comparable with a teenager grappling with puberty—but as you stood observing his slightly feral stance, you decided, then, that you’d seen it all.

Feeling as though you should have some say in this—being a new addition to the team in question—you cleared your throat with enough purpose to turn all the heads in the room. Soldier Boy abided last, as though it was a mockery of his importance to spare you the light of day. The Supe turned his body fully to face you, and the displeasure radiating from his rigid stance made you clench your jaw with careful consideration. The last thing you wanted was to ruffle his invisible cape the wrong way. You didn’t need that sort of drama on your first day—and you certainly had zero desire to entertain a feud that would taint the rest of your days with Vought-American.

You offered Soldier Boy a tiny nod of thanks—a peace-offering, but the Supe merely lifted his chin, as though undecided on his standpoint with you. You took your lower lip into a brief bite before releasing it with the first clause of your peace-treaty.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” you began lightly, taking a few steps toward him until you were returned to the personal vicinity from before.

“That so?” He mocked bitterly, watched you with careful eyes almost turned scornful. But he didn’t falter an inch from his position, so you figured that he was listening, anyway.

You lifted your hands in a steadying gesture. “Look, I’m not here to steal your spotlight—”

“Nobody’s stealin’ my spotlight, sweetheart,” he cut in with a scathing huff, and an equally heartfelt frown to accompany it.

Your nostrils flared with a breath of patience, providing the pause you needed to reason against the urge to strangle him. “Like I said,” you continued tensely. “Not here to steal your spotlight. The only reason Vought decided to recruit me is because I’ve been gaining attention with my most recent feat—”

“Yeah?” He interjected, arms coming up in a cross as his head tilted with the slightest interest—but somehow, it still felt like a mock. “And what’d ya do to get on Vought’s radar? Campaign for the destructive feminists? Screamin’ some free the nipple bull-shit at the top o’ your lungs?” He paused at that, lips drawing into a slight pout as his eyes flickered skyward. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he made some silent concession. “On second thought, they might be onto somethin’ with that,” he stated, eyes finding yours in a mischievous squint—like he sought to get a rise out of you.

You weren’t going to let him rub your hair the wrong way, so you disregarded that comment entirely—but it didn’t stop the word dick from blaring at the back of your mind. “It was a fire,” you clarified, which apparently was a detail mundane enough to make Soldier Boy’s lips draw back with disinterest. “Started in the park of a neighbourhood I used to patrol frequently. Burned right through to the nearest house, and the family got caught inside. Parents and three kids—one barely old enough to walk.”

As the Supe listened, the judgmental furrow in his brow didn’t relent, but there was some new interest to his attention because his chin jerked in your direction. “So?” He prompted. “What’d you do—tell it to fuck off? You a wind-whisperer or somethin’?”

Far from a wind-whisperer, but I know a few ways to tell you to fuck off, you remarked silently. Your tongue poked at the inside of your cheek in a summons of patience. “It’s easier to show than tell,” you said tensely, the explanation so ambiguous that Soldier Boy frowned questioningly.

“Well, we don’t got all fuckin’ da—” his words caught in his throat as he sputtered on some invisible lump, his arms uncrossing in a state of panic. Almost instantly, his cheeks flushed with a deep red only elicited by a lack of air, and the veins usually tracing his temple in secrecy now bulged with a concerning thickness. His eyes—bloodshot in the state of his asphyxiation—flickered to you with a primal fear that you didn’t believe he’d ever worn, before his attention dropped to the hand you’d brought up in a focused clench.

Decidedly satisfied with your display, you relaxed your flexed fingers, and it was the singular permission that the Supe needed to draw in a large bout of air, his chest rattling with a series of coarse coughs. He staggered over slightly, but caught himself just in time to remain respectable.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he choked out, frown lines carved into his forehead as he lifted his head to glare at you past stray strands of his bangs—freshly escaped from the prison of his collected hairdo. “Alright. . .” He murmured hoarsely, fashioning caution—and wiser words—as he straightened to full height and faced you once more. “I’ll admit, that’s not the worst parlour trick.” You knew that it was Soldier Boy for that was impressive, so you accepted it with a satisfied jut of your chin. Then, the Supe’s index finger lifted in your direction in a stern scolding. “But don’t fuckin’ do that again,” he warned.

You smirked at that, crossing your arms with the intent to negotiate. “Stop doubting my capabilities and I won’t have to,” you countered smugly.

Soldier Boy glanced around the room with a clenched jaw, as though unhappy with his dwindling sense of control, before turning to face you again. “Yeah, whatever,” he relented with a sniff, but you could have sworn that there was a shade of red still lingering in his cheeks. “So I take it you choked the shit outta that fire, too?”

“Mhm. Saved the whole family. Some guy saw the whole thing and reported it to. . . whoever the hell makes things like this happen. Next thing I knew, a Vought-American letter’s in my mailbox. Apparently, I left quite an impression on the public, and they thought it’d be good for the scores—having me partner up with the Soldier Boy.“

“The public is gonna love it!” One of the executives chimed in eagerly, as though seizing the opportunity to quench the lead Supe’s ruffled fire once and for all. But when Soldier Boy slowly turned to cast him a glare, he wilted back into silence.

Turning back to you, the Supe scoffed. “What—so we’d be like America’s next, hottest couple?”

You paused at that, mulling over the title. Admittedly, it had a certain ring to it. “You could put it that way,” you said thoughtfully. “Because if there’s one thing this country loves—it’s Supe scandals.”

For the first time, the lead Supe showcased an emotion other than scorn and condemnation—he laughed, genuinely laughed. “Ain’t that the goddamn truth,” he agreed gruffly, head briefly tilted to the ground as he considered your words with ridicule. “God bless fuckin’ America.” Then, he lifted his eyes to you, and they softened with just enough tolerance to come off as respect. “Whaddya say then?” He asked. “Ready to take on the role, sweetheart?” There was the faintest ghost of a smirk on his lips—like he was eager awaiting your reply.

“First of all, drop the sweetheart thing,” you told him flatly. “It’s not flattering, and it’s certainly not the panty-dropper you think it is.”

Soldier Boy’s brows lifted with brief offence at being called out, but then his chin dipped in surrender. “Fine. You got somethin’ else you prefer? Cause you still haven’t told me your name.” His eyes glinted with something mischievous as he added, “sweetheart.”

With a light shake of your head and a weakly amused smile, you offered him your name. He rolled it over his tongue once or twice, then winked in acknowledgment once he’d mentally marked it down.

“A beautiful name, but I still think sweetheart suits ya,” he wondered aloud.

You couldn’t help but smile at the nerve of the Supe. He’s attractive—he knew it, and so did you. And you also couldn’t deny the way some primal part of you seemed to flutter at his attention, but you were wise enough to know that it wasn’t exclusive—nothing ever was when it came to him. “Well, I guess it’s a shame that you’ve named every other woman you come across sweetheart,” you scoffed.

Soldier Boy’s smirk deepened, like he enjoyed your nerve. “What—you callin’ me some sorta floozy?”

You shrugged innocently. “If you really have to ask that, I think you know the answer.”

His chest rattled with a chuckle—you figured you should’ve started a tally of all the times you got the Supe to laugh. You might’ve been able to pawn it off to some museum showcasing historical events to behold.

“Yeah, alright,” he murmured half to himself, then sobered his attention as he cast you a scheming glance. “Just one last thing,” he said.

“What?”

Soldier Boy leaned into your vicinity—close enough to feel his breath flush your nose with warmth. “Think you can handle being tethered to my side ‘round the clock?” He murmured lowly, a smug smirk poking through as he eyed you like an object of desire.

You braced your chin with a boldness to match his. “Can you handle me?” You countered levelly, arms coming up in a cross as you searched his sultry stare.

“Damn right I can,” he murmured even softer than before—more like drawled, but it was no less intense. His attention snagged on the view of your lips for a few, hot seconds before fluttering back up to your eyes.

You stole your own glance of his lips, and you wandered whether they were good for anything other than offending every person he came across. “Really? Sure I won’t take your breath away?” You jabbed lightly, casting him a heavy-lidded stare.

Air jetted through his nostrils in an amused sound, his tongue poking through to sweep across his lips. “You already have,” he admitted with a heavy stare. “And I don’t think you’re quite finished yet, either.”

Those words took you by surprise, your head recoiling a measly centimetre, but Soldier Boy seemed perfectly content with his choice of words—unmoved by your reaction. With a mildly flustered swallow, you shook your head lightly. “You’re trouble, Soldier Boy,” you remarked carefully, but a fraction of a smile still managed to slip through.

“Ben,” he corrected, lips wound thin with a devilish smirk. “And you may be right—but I’m all the right kinds of trouble, sweetheart.”

ʿ Get to talkin', I get involved, like a rebound

Got no end game, got no result, got to stay downʾ

The first week at Vought-American had been quiet on the mission front, so you’d spent most of your time exploring the compound, though not without unsuccessfully shaking Ben’s company. More often than not, the lead Supe got his fill of entertainment by trailing around after you like a sheet of toilet paper you’d accidentally tracked from the bathroom. It drove you insane, but he was relentlessly clingy, so he’d gotten his way and stuck around.

And what made it worse, was that—against your will, you’d come to tolerate him. But as the weeks turned to months, tolerate became appreciate, and it wasn’t long before appreciate became crave. Coming to terms with the fact that you actually sought out Ben’s company had been a jarring moment in your character arc. You’d made yourself the promise—when it all began—not to let the faux title of America’s Power Couple influence your heart. But beneath all the Supe makeup, you hosted a very human heart that thumped loud and clear, and it was the ultimate weak link that betrayed your own.

You’d tried hard to fight the urges that had jumped you without any prior warning, but it felt impossible to escape when you were attached to his hip every other day—if not to cover one another in adrenaline-worthy missions, then to pose for the camera as the duo that America had come to adore. The news of your partnership had taken to the headlines almost immediately, and it meant that there was no going back on it—meant that you truly were stuck with him now.

Most of the public had voiced their adoration for your relationship, and as part of the act to make it believable, Vought had sent you both to events as a couple forced to act in love. There were shared hugs, hands draped across your waist during idle chatter, glances exchanged with intense passion, and lips contacting with a point to prove—and it’d all made it difficult for you to not join in on the public’s swooning.

In stark contrast to your own, very clear struggle with the push on professional boundaries, Ben seemed elated by it all. Marvelled in it, even. He seized every opportunity to make casual remarks that burned your cheeks hot, or made sure to hover his hand a fraction too long when lightening the load on your palms. He could see right through you, and he’d made true on his word to pose the trouble he’d warned you of.

One night, he’d taken it a step—one giant leap further.

After a late night, last minute meeting with the executives, you and Ben had exited the room in tandem, and it wasn’t supposed to lead anywhere past walking you back to your suite. But it did. It did—from the moment he cut in front of you with an earnest look morphing the features you’d come to memorise in the midst of your growing infatuation. And it did when he took the step that pressed your bodies close together, exchanging heat like a symbiosis that had always meant to exist. And it did when his hand came up to frame your jaw with a gentleness you’d never seen him practice, his lips lowering onto yours with a point that invalided your every pre-conceived notion on his capabilities.

You should have pulled away—if you’d known what was good for you because you knew that Ben was no role model for long-term commitments. And you knew that your heart would be the first to find that out somewhere down the line. But because you chose to listen to what was good for your body, instead, you pressed your lips against his with a force that made you an equal accomplice to bad decisions.

You should have pulled away, but you didn’t.

ʿ It's the way that you making me feel like nobody ever loved me

Like you do, you doʾ

The door to Ben’s suite slammed closed behind you before his hands seized your waist firmly, his lips hot on the trail to provide all the reinforcement needed to corner you against the nearest wall. With a passionate lack of care, the length of your back was pressed flush against the cement as his palms glided over the meat of your hips, squeezing the anatomy with an appreciative firmness before they glided to the underside of your thighs.

His lips feuded with your own in a sloppy and heated make out, then dipped into the divot of your chin when he buckled an inch to gather the momentum needed to hoist you up. Your arms instinctually found his neck in a vice grip, legs coming up to wrap around his waist as he successfully—and effortlessly—lifted you into his grasp. His head leaned back into yours to slur a brief kiss across your lips, large palms tightening around your thighs as he turned and steered the both of you toward the nearest sofa.

You were blind to where the sofa began, but Ben lowered your form just enough for the armrest to graze the small of your back before you were tossed a very short distance into the cushioned length of the couch. The thud of your back against the sofa knocked a breath from your lungs, but you weren’t afforded the chance to replenish it before the Supe came crashing down on you with one motive in mind: devouring you.

His lips crashed into yours once more, one hand curling around your nape, tussling your hair as he pressed you further into his famished lips, while the other skilfully worked at undressing you. And it wasn’t long before he was dragging a wet trail of kisses down the arch of your neck, around each perked bud of your breasts, and down the line of your abdomen.

“Fuck, Ben, it feels so good,” you breathed out appreciatively, head burrowing back into the sofa and toes curling into the material as he flicked and dragged his tongue through your folds—tracing all sorts of patterns he’d perfected through prior experiences you’d chosen to bar from your mind.

His tongue was rough—impatient, and it did a splendid job at summoning your high. But his hands trapped your thighs against the sofa to deny the buck of your hips that would’ve given you the last push you needed to fall into the abyss of pleasure, and before you could complain, he pulled you up at the wrist and spun you around.

Positioned ass up and face down, he smoothed over the skin of your ass with an appreciative hum. “You look good like this, sweetheart,” he remarked crassly—only because he knew it’d burn you the darkest shade of red. And it wasn’t long before he slid himself into your welcoming entrance, his thrusts driven with by purpose—rough, quick and straight to the point.

He fanned a hand over the small of your back, pressing you further into the sofa while the other found firm grip at your hip. The space was filled with a raw skin-on-skin percussion that sounded primal—shameful, almost, but you were so far lost to the drilling of his tip against your cervix that you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You craved him—craved the way he made you feel. And you showed him through the slurred moans pouring from your mouth with every snap of his hips against you.

His broad chest pressed against your bare back as he brought himself to your ear. “Jesus, you’re somethin’,” he growled, his thrusts intensifying to the point of flattening your lower half against the sofa. “You’re everythin’,” he husked against your hair, one hand coming up to wrap around the front of your neck while the other tightened into a bruise-worthy grip at your hip, and as he pummelled you into the cushions, all you could think about was how you never wanted this to end—and you also hoped that the sofa wouldn’t break.

ʿ You kinda feel like you tryin' to get away from me

If you do, I won't moveʾ

You counted another night in Ben’s bed, where raked your gaze over his sleeping form, and it marvelled you that he could look so at peace with himself—with life. In waking times, where he constantly barrelled from one mission to the other, he gave the sort of impression that he didn’t know a second of peace—like he’d been made solely for war and conflict. So seeing him like this—it warmed something inside of you. But the feeling didn’t linger when you swallowed thickly with a guilty realisation.

You’d lied to yourself.

What was supposed to be a once-off, one-night stand had turned to weeks of ritualistic, late-night visits. Almost every other night, you and Ben were tackling one another—a battle of bodies and orgasms. It wasn’t supposed to go beyond that first night—and once it did, you’d told yourself that it wasn’t supposed to go beyond a physical relationship.

But it had—for you, at least. You hadn’t exactly had the nerve to ask Ben whether he saw you as anything more than a warm body to pass time—didn’t think you could handle that punch to the gut. But it’d been slowly eating you up inside—the uncertainty of it all.

Deciding that it wasn’t tonight’s problem, you cosied up beside his sleeping form, eyes drifting closed to summon a sleep that would quell your mental misery. It took a while, and after a few tosses and turns, you’d settled in with your back facing Ben. And at some point—just as you started to swoon with the first glimpse of dreams—Ben’s hand shifted to wrap around your waist. That singular action provided all the comfort you needed to slip off into easy dreams.

The days following that night had taken a complete detour in energy. Ben had been uncharacteristically distant and curt—almost as though he’d reverted back to the hardened persona you’d thought you’d worked your way through with the weeks spent at Vought—with the time spent at his side. You had no concrete idea on what had installed the distance between you, but you suspected that the Supe had come to realise the feelings you bore for him outside of a night of fun.

It must’ve deterred him because he kept your every interaction short—filled with nothing but droning reports and information about the next missions to come. It was agonising to endure, and you wanted nothing more than to go back to the way things had been before.

But they didn’t.

Back in the warmer days—prior to the current, cold ones that currently hosted you both as strangers—you would find Ben waiting outside your door, craving more than what your body had to offer him. Company, chatter that wasn’t rehearsed down to the last line, and friendship. He didn’t have many friends—you’d once told him that directly in the heat of an argument, but hadn’t looked too marred by it. Despite his ego, he could admit that he wasn’t the easiest person to tolerate.

But you had learnt to, and maybe that had played a role in morphing your relationship of pleasure into a relationship of the mind, body and soul—all at once. And you realised then, that maybe Ben did share all of your finer feelings. It would certainly explained the way he’d suddenly turned his back on everything you’d once shared. As much as you wanted to chase after him with the question armed at the ready, eager to gun down the excruciating tension, you chose to offer your surrender, instead.

Ben wouldn’t come around with your pestering. He had his own things to figure out. And when he did, you could only hope he’d take the initiative of returning to you—unshielded, unhardened, vulnerable. That he’d acknowledge the truth that hung over both your heads like a brooding storm cloud—the truth that what had started out as a hollow title of professionalism had been filled to the brim with countless banter, near-death experiences, and shared warmth that warranted a type of closeness only this lifestyle could provoke.

That you were more than partners—more than two people playing make believe for the public eye.

That you were in love.

You could only wait and hope that he’d see it, feel it, and own it.

ʿ I just cry for no reason, l just pray for no reasonʾ

On the drive to the next mission, the vehicle’s air was thick with tension. Ben manned the driver seat, so there wasn’t much opportunity for his stare to forsake the road ahead—but when it did, it never lingered on you for more than a second.

He gave nothing away, either. He’d gone back to being as mysterious as when you’d first met him, and it made your heart ache. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, head turned to gaze out of the window as though it could shun the taunting reality into non-existence—but it didn’t.

Each passing second of silence weighed heavier than the next, and Ben said nothing, did nothing to alleviate the crushing force of it. So all you could do, as you found yourself drinking in the buildings and trees whisking across your vision, was hope and pray that he’d live up to his title, act the soldier and put an end to this misery by confessing his feelings for you.

But you couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that it was a day you’d never come to outlive.

ʿ I give thanks for the day

For the hours and another way, another life breathin'ʾ

The mission had taken every wrong turn possible, and you’d been caught in the cross-fire of the enemy’s newest anti-supe contraption that had left you severely wounded—injuries that not even your super-abled body could resolve.

Your vision was mostly blurred with the severe bloodloss, so you couldn’t make sense of the shapes whisking past your vision as medics carried you through Vought’s compound. The pain festering at multiple sites upon your body was debilitating and brutal, almost enough of a force to persuade you into letting go of life entirely—but a hand kept you grounded, tethered, through the dragged out minutes that it took to set you down on that operating table.

Ben’s frantic face appeared in front of yours, but most detail of his features were lost to your disorientation. His lips moved with words that sounded distant, and your face scrunched with the frail effort to try and perceive them—but you couldn’t. Darkness began pressing at the corners of your vision, threatening to drag you into a sleep that had no return. You caught the way one of the assistant’s placed a hand onto Ben’s shoulder, tugging at him with a passion that the Supe didn’t permit—if evident by the way he straightened up to send his fist flying into the assistant’s face.

Guards showed up to contain him, and he cast you one last glance with a mouth gaped around a shout you couldn’t acknowledge. You wanted to reach out to him, to tell him you’d be okay, but you couldn’t. The world weighed heavy on you now, blanketing you with a darkness that felt comforting—tempting you into fluttering your eyes closed for a much needed break.

And you listened.

For a while, there was nothing. You floated through endless, dark matter, ceasing to exist in the bottomless space. And then a light beamed through, so blinding that your eyes screwed shut to avert the assault, and when you opened them again, you were greeted with the view of Vought’s hospital. You blinked many times, fighting off the haze that had consumed you for god knows how long, and when you finally mustered up the strength to lift your head, you found Ben nestled at the side of your bed.

His cheek was settled into the cross of his arms, his eyes sown shut in a steady sleep. You don’t know how long you’d been asleep, and how long he’d been camping it out beside your comatose form, but what you did know, is that you were thankful to have survived the whole ordeal. Thankful to see another day—to see Ben here with you.

With great effort, you reached out a hand to brush through his hair—and he’d always been a light sleeper, but this time, he didn’t stir. Not immediately, at least. It took a few surfs of your hand through hair before his eyes fluttered open to drink you in, and it was then that you noticed just how deep the skin beneath his eyes had sunken—as though the wait he’d endured to acquaint you in the land of the living once more had burned through everything that he was. Exhausted him to the point of a humanly slumber.

Instantly, Ben collected himself into a sit, hand reaching to grab yours fiercely. “You’re okay,” he breathed, his green eyes brimming with raw relief, and slightly teary along the edges. “Jesus, I thought I’d lost you,” he choked out gruffly, jaw clenching around his worst fear.

You smiled weakly, warmly, sympathising with his pain as your own eyes grew teary. “I’m right here,” you murmured meekly, your voice cracking with the prolonged disuse. “I’m not going anywhere,” you added in a soft, broken whisper.

Ben’s composure cracked at that, and instead of responding with words he had no experience utilising, he leaned himself toward you to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. When he pulled back to gaze at you, something in his expression shifted, and he felt compelled to speak, anyways.

“You wouldn’t stand a damn chance, anyway, ‘cause I’d follow you all the way to the edge of the earth—holdin’ that fuckin’ lifeline that’s keepin’ you tethered to a sorry dick like me. ‘Cause I’m selfish—and ‘cause I’m nothin’ worth a damn without you.”

Your heart imploded at that, the tears that had been idling about your eyes now cascading down your cheeks uncontrolled. Ben’s hands shifted to cradle your face with an unfamiliar tenderness—one that you could, and would, grow accustomed to—as he leaned himself down to place a kiss on your lips.

When he came face to face with you once more, his eyes brimmed with adoration. “Fuckin’ hell, I love you—I do. I’ve been a real pussy ‘bout it these last few weeks, but I do,” he murmured.

“I know,” you told him gently, leaning your cheek further into his hold. “I’ve always known—I just needed you to be the first to say it. You needed to decide what you wanted for yourself—”

“You,” he cut in instantly, earnestly. “You—god, you’re all I want. Nothin’ else—nobody else.”

You smiled weakly at that. “Then I’m all yours.”

ʿ I did it all 'cause it feel good

But wouldn't do it all if it feel bad

Your recovery was slow, but Ben had been by your side through it all, handing off missions to the rest of Payback while he nursed you back to full health within the comforts of his suite. Nothing you asked of him was ever too much, and it made you burn with a newfound love for him—made you fall in love with him all over again.

Better live your life

We are running out of timeʾ

Little did you know that the next mission to come would be as heart-breaking as the last. You and Ben had gotten split up in the midst of Niaguara, and the gunfire was so heavy that you’d lost tabs on his whereabouts during your attempt to take cover. All around you, bullets whisked through the air. It was defeaning—overwhelming, and you almost thought it’d never end short of claiming your life.

And then the scene around you only intensified when an aircraft suddenly blared overhead, and your head tilted back against the brick wall shielding you from death as you tried to get a glimpse of the structure. But when you saw what dangled from the aircraft—a contraption immobilising and holding Ben’s unconscious form captive, your heart seized up on the spot with such panic that a bullet might as well have pierced right through it, ending all that you were.

And you almost wish it did—that you’d been put out of your misery right there and then because as you watched the aircraft grow smaller with the distance, you weren’t sure you’d ever see Ben again.

And like he’d told you back at the hospital—that wasn’t a life worth living

ʿ Love, let's talk about love

Is it anything and everything you hoped for?ʾ

As soon as you’d recouped with the rest of Payback, they’d enlightened you on who the aircraft belonged to—that is was the Russians that had kidnapped Ben. It sparked some sort of hope within you, knowing that you had a lead to follow, and you’d taken it upon yourself that evening to plan out his rescue with Vought’s executives.

It was then that the jarring truth of it all had been revealed, that Ben’s kidnap had been staged by the company—and Payback—itself. You’d been outraged and overcome with an anger you hadn’t thought yourself capable of, doing something regrettable in the process.

It all happened so fast—your hand curling into a fist that drained the lungs of the closet executive to the point of no return. It only hit you once his body dropped to the floor, never to stir again despite the remaining, panicked executives rushing to his aids. And they’d cast you horrified stares, something that told you you were done for if you didn’t make a run for it now—so you did.

You didn’t look back as you fleed the compound, not once, but you made a beeline toward an office you knew held all the information of Vought’s dirty secrets, adding another body or two to your fatality count to acquire the files that would lead you directly to the Russian compound holding Ben captive.

The journey there had been a hassle, almost enough to make you want to give up—but then you pictured how helpless and afraid Ben must’ve felt, and it fuelled you with the power you needed to keep on going. You needed to see him again. You would see him again.

You’d managed to gain access to the compound under the alias of a compound v scientist, and given your very real knowledge and experience on the sciences, it was an easy role to assume—and one that brought you all the more closer to seeing Ben again.

But the circumstances of your reunion was far from ideal—Ben strapped to an experimenting table while a lab assistant approached you presenting a vile of poison you were to inject into his veins, all without a single guess about what it’d do to him. How it’d completely remake him. But you did it, anyway because your compliance meant building trust with the Russians, and trust paved way toward power—influence. And that meant that you could take control of these sessions—keep him safe.

So you grabbed the needle and approached Ben, who drank you in with an amalgamation of relief, betrayal and fear all at once. But the minute you sank that needle into his arm—all his emotions sobered up into one, single thing. Hatred. And it ate away at everything that you were, and continued to do so in all the years that passed.

But despite the heartbreak, you kept at it—kept on returning with needles of poison you’d modified with just enough care to spare him disastrous side effects, finding solace in that fact to ignore the way each dose completely remade him. You weren’t sure how much of the Soldier Boy you’d come to know and love would be left by the time the Russians concluded the experiment, but you did know that you were doing a necessary evil to keep him safe from something far sinister, should you be taken off the experiment.

And thankfully, that day never came. You’d made contact with a group known as The Boys—who launched the plan to free both yourself and Ben from the compound in exchange for a favour that only Ben could fulfil. Once he’d done it, you were both free to pursue your newfound freedom, and to rekindle the bond that the tragic years had eaten away at. And you were given the chance to explain that everything you’d done to him had been done from a place of love—as fucked up as it sounded.

And it wasn’t a type of love you’d ever dreamt of knowing—of showing him.

ʿ Or do the feeling haunt you?ʾ

Ben watched your lip quiver with the memories of the harmful emotions and experiences that he hadn’t been around to shield you from. The time with the Russians had broken him in every manner physical—all part of the plan to build him up into something far more lethal. But you? You’d been mentally reconstructed.

As you delved deeper into your experience working under the Russians, he listened to you speak with a heaviness he didn’t usually acknowledge—not him, super-abled Soldier Boy, strongest man alive with nary a concept on humanly burdens. Emotional and physical. But the words that slunk from your mouth settled over him like a deadweight that had him feeling—for the first time ever—like he was helpless in escaping it. Like he was weak.

He felt weakened by the guilt of knowing what you had been forced to endure. The strength you’d mustered up in order to stick poisoned needles into his arm, and the strength you’d needed to keep your chin elevated with the memory of the goodness in your heart. And he felt weakened by the guilt of knowing, there and then, just how much you truly loved him.

It was crushing.

He’d never mastered the depths and tides of his emotions, but you’d taught him how to surf the currents with just enough control to remain afloat. And it was a regrettable skill on some days—days like this—where he was forced to feel things he’d perfected the art of ignoring for. Because now, he felt it all.

And it haunted him—the way you love.

The way you love him. The way you’d do anything for him. The way you’d bargained away years of your life to ensure that the years of his were bought and secured. The way you’d once promised you’d stick with him through it all, and the way you’d followed through. Because deep down, he didn’t feel like he deserved any of it.

The guilt of knowing your love—it haunted him.

ʿ I know the feeling haunt youʾ

Ben found his lips wandering every inch of your skin with a need to memorise the taste of your flesh. He pressed kisses the soft apples of your cheeks, to the bridge of your nose, to the fragile sheets of your lids after you’d simmered into a symphony of pleasure. And because he’s greedy, he even found his nose burrowed into the crook of your neck while his lips branded the arch—where he inhaled the scent of you and surfed a wave of ecstasy that put the bona fide drug to shame.

You were an assault on his senses, disorienting every sensible instinct he’d spent years forging. His instincts were critical. They made him strong and driven and deserving of his title as a soldier. But you. . . you were like a foreign scent that had wafted beneath his unassuming nose—a scent that he just couldn’t ignore. A scent that triggered some other, unexplored instinct within him, and it compelled him to blindly follow you. Allowed himself just enough slack to be consumed by you.

Once he'd worked his way into the wet warmth between your thighs, his thrusts were slow and sensual. Patient. He wanted to savour every second of you-more like needed to. He gripped one of your thighs with a firm gentleness, the other arm venturing beside your head to prop himself up as he carried his hips toward yours. Your hands curled around the muscle of his biceps in a sensual line, moans spewing from your lips before your palms flattened over the toned contours of his back—nails gripping his flesh to keep yourself grounded against his ascension-worthy movements.

He took his sweet time feeling on, listening to, and indulging you. And once you begged him for more, he delivered. He nurtured your high with a quickened pace, releasing your thigh to join the other you'd wrapped around him. He settled both arms on either side of your head, and there, he hovered himself over your lips, pressing scattered, incomplete kisses to the tender flesh while he focused on the tension connecting—and threatening—to end you both.

“Just like that, Ben,” you breathed into his ear, your hand curling around the nape of his neck, where you clung to him like any other hair embedded within his skin.

“Yeah—I got you,” Ben grunted against your lips, air jetting through the slits of his grit teeth as he endured the overwhelming storm of pleasure. He pressed a firm kiss to the corner of your lips, eyes briefly flickering up to where your expression contorted with each of his thrusts. And he studied everything—the bold furrow of your brows, the lustful haze glazing your eyes, and the way your nose scrunched with every other prod of his manhood. You were breathtaking, and it drove him feral. “I got you,” he repeated—promised.

He felt as the hand you’d furled around his neck drifted up the expanse, fingers ploughing through the field of his hair to entangle with the unruly strands. His eyes fluttered closed—however briefly—at the way you tousled his hair. The sensation was overwhelming, hypnotising—almost enough of a physical persuasion on his shoulders to release a year’s worth of tension. You’d had that effect to you from the moment he’d met you, and somehow, it’d always worked on him.

It wasn't long before you finally let go of yourself, and he tossed a line of his own to match. Then, you were briefly smothered by the weight of his panting form before he rolled himself over to the side and pulled you into his arms. You instantly took to nestling his one arm in the crook of your neck, and his other moved to drape loosely across your waist while you drifted into an instantaneous sleep.

As Ben laid there, curled around the fragile body he’d tucked into the safety of his grip, he felt like he’d been reborn—like the hands the Russians had forged to meld iron could now cradle fragile glass without instilling a single crack. Like he’d been modelled into something—somebody more than his upbringings. Somebody worthy enough to be bestowed with the highest honours of loving you.

It amazed him, really, how you’d unintentionally strolled into his life with zero intention to take up space within it. And yet, you’d managed to selfishly hog every inch of his heart—making him feel things that forced him to reminisce the misery of humanity and feelings. You filled his heart with adrenaline that was unlike any he’d ever hopped himself up on amongst the battlefield. That adrenaline was potent—wired him to flee the dangers constantly gunning for him. But this adrenaline—the type only you could get his heart to muster—it drew him in like a whirlpool that would swallow him whole given the chance.

It made him want to do anything but flee.

Your grit, your wit, and your unwillingness to let him dangle from the rope he’d hung himself from had left more of a mark on him than the binding of his trauma. For once, he actually craved to memorise the lines left behind by the cuffs you’d unknowingly slung around his wrists—tugging him along after you like a dickless mutt begging for some long-lost action. And he blindly followed. He didn’t question it. For once, he didn’t want to question it.

He only wanted you.

God, admitting it made him feel like a goddamn swooning pussy—but you’d once smacked him across the shoulder for saying that aloud. He’d get better at it—the whole holding hands and professing feelings thing. He would. Admittedly, it was difficult following through on a resolution so soft he could have throttled it between two firm fingers—but he’d made you a promise, and it served as an armour that shielded his word against any intrusive impulse he’d allowed to jab at his life for far too long.

As he laid there, savouring the bare warmth of your body pressed against his with every hushed breath, he couldn’t have pictured a more ideal view. He’d once thought it a big, stinking pile of bull that one person could demand everything that you were—that somebody could ever matter that much to warrant his unfaltering devotion. But now, he knew it to be true. He knew it with every glance he stole of you.

The thought of losing you haunted him.

It haunted him with the same fear that the solar system would regard the loss of their sun with—the singular body drawing in and holding everything together. Making it whole. Complete. Functional. In the same way, you’d become a sort of North Star in the black expanse of his heart, orientating the soul he’d thought he’d lost ahold of a long time ago. You kept him grounded and guided. Safe.

And in all that he was and ever would be—everything that you’d thought him capable of—he’d devote it to keeping you safe, too.

Even if it killed him.

Because the thought of having you plucked from his grasp was one that he couldn’t entertain without a debilitating dread. Life without you wouldn’t be truly living—it would be boiled down to fruitless survival. It’d be the misery he’d been trapped in before you came and snagged onto the latch that finally set him free. And he couldn’t—wouldn’t be forced back into that cage.

So, the arm he’d loosely strung around your waist neglected all careful consideration as he pulled you tighter against him. You stirred briefly with a groan so soft and slurred that he might as well have imagined it—but he clung to it like a mantra of just how real this all was. It was selfish, maybe, trapping you against him with a fervour that wouldn’t have him letting up anytime soon—but he did it, anyway.

Ben wasn’t supposed to be human enough to be marred by anything. Physical wounds could scarcely be inflicted, but scars couldn’t be left behind. It was an exhilarating reality—one that made him feel invincible. Fearless. But you—the thought of letting you go, it was unbearable. Crippling. Fear-worthy.

And it haunted him.

──────────────────────

a/n ─ first of all, i was on my sza shit more than usual and the lyrics of this song resonated with me and the sb’s unfinished story i was thinking about. i had always wanted to do some sort of story portrayal for how he and fem!supe!reader met, sooo have this ig?! second of all, i did not forget about wrapping this fic up, i just got severely demotivated and side-tracked. oopsie. i swear i’ll post the last part some day. for now, it’s rotting in my drafts, unedited and with a few gaps that need to be filled. my motivation comes and goes like the auroras, so that’ll come when it comes lmfao. thirdly, i hope you guys enjoyed this. i started out feeling great about this, but i’ve been sitting with a massive migraine as i finished it, so it feels like ive placed words that dont quite click. idk? 🤷‍♀️ also im like 8 followers from 700 so take this as my wtf thank you sm gift!! 😭 this is not proofread bc it’s 1 am and i have class tomorrow so actually i apologise for the horrendous amount of errors you’ve likely come across—i’ll fix it tomorrow, i just wanted to get this out like i promised

thank you for reading! all likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated

tags ─ @gibson-g1rl @bohemianblasphemy @fallbhind @angelicjackles @deansbbyx @titsout4jackles @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @honeyryewhiskey @florchids @floralscented @deansbeer @deansbbyx @figthoughts @dulcescorderitas @whisperingdaze @st4rmarley @bakugotypecrashout @jaydensluv @chi-raz @youdontknowe @misatxox @lixiesbrowniess @ilovedeanwinchester4 @beelzebzb

want to become part of the taglist for any future soldier boy works?

other works ─ the boys masterlist

© bluemerakis ─ do not plagiarise or steal any of my works.

[a-cute-radiation]

I doubt we'll explore that, but I am so curious how Metal feels about Sage and how their relationship is like with Eggman as well.

Sure we have seen them in TMOSTH, but come on.

So here is my overly complicated take on it! (Transferred from my Twitter, so formatting might be off)

Imagine, you have been doing your father's biddings for years, barely getting a crumb of recognition, yelled at and discarded on a whim...

And then one day your father returns from an adventure along with some AI he calls his darling little daughter and sings his praises to!

You get commands & scolding, while watching her be fully embraced...

That's Metal for ya now!

Makes me think if Metal wonders why it couldn't be him. Why Eggman just had to create Sage to finally "feel proud of his creations"

Eggman had never known familial love and affection for himself. So it's no surprise he shows nearly none to Metal- but when Sage shows up, he does.

A cruel fate, for Metal only has two tasks:

-Eliminate Sonic the Hedgehog

-Seek fatherly approval from Eggman / Love unconditionally

Task 2 seems to be the bigger priority of the two, if it truly comes down to it

He is a unable to succeed at the first task.

He will never defeat Sonic and prove himself as the "real one", no matter how hard he tries. His coding works against himself here. He can realise at times that he is not the real one... but his programming will overwrite any shape or form of progress.

Assuring that task 1 stands firm, causing him to constantly struggle with his identity as it is

And now he has to deal with competition for task 2.

Competing with a perfect golden child.

Previously it was only him + Orbot and Cubot. None of them posed any opposition at ALL. Eggman is annoyed by the two at best. They're just the invisible middle children (and prolly deserving of their own thread)

So this is new and it probably bites.

And since Ivo brought up the comparison with Maria himself- allow me to use it as well.

"Back then... was she [Maria] anything like Sage is now?"

Perhaps Ivo was somewhat like what Metal is now. Utterly undervalued & desperate to prove himself.

Intentional or not, Ivo has raised Metal Sonic with the same baggage he has. Heck, the first biodata Metal copied is Eggman's!

No wonder he tried to take over the world himself the SECOND he became Neo. Same "genes", same upbringing.

Which begs the question, in conclusion, does Metal resent Sage in similar vain to how Ivo resents Maria?

Or perhaps it's entirely different? Perhaps Metal can view Sage as his own version of Tails and learn to love her? Be charmed by her, despite it all?

Who knows? Who cares? Thanks for attending my rambles.

[mariacallous]

This story originally appeared on Vox and is part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

Odorless and colorless, methane is a gas that is easy to miss—but it’s one of the most important contributors to global warming. It can trap up to 84 times as much heat as carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, though it breaks down much faster. Measured over 100 years, its warming effect is about 30 times that of an equivalent amount of carbon dioxide.

That means that over the course of decades, it takes smaller amounts of methane than carbon dioxide to heat up the planet to the same level. Nearly a third of the increase in global average temperatures since the Industrial Revolution is due to methane, and about two-thirds of those methane emissions comes from human activity like energy production and cattle farming. It’s one of the biggest and fastest ways that human beings are warming the Earth.

But the flip side of that math is that cutting methane emissions is one of the most effective ways to limit climate change.

In 2021, more than 100 countries including the United States committed to reducing their methane pollution by at least 30 percent below 2020 levels by 2030. But some of the largest methane emitters like Russia and China still haven’t signed on, and according to a new report from the International Energy Agency, global methane emissions from energy production are still rising.

Yet the tracking of exactly how much methane is reaching the atmosphere isn’t as precise as it is for carbon dioxide. “Little or no measurement-based data is used to report methane emissions in most parts of the world,” according to the IEA. “This is a major issue because measured emissions tend to be higher than reported emissions.” It’s also hard to trace methane to specific sources—whether from natural sources like swamps, or from human activities like fossil fuel extraction, farming, or deforestation.

Researchers are gaining a better understanding of where methane is coming from, surveilling potential sources from the ground, from the sky, and from space. It turns out a lot of methane is coming from underappreciated sources, including coal mines and small oil and gas production facilities.

The report also notes that while there are plenty of low-cost tools available to halt much of this methane from reaching the atmosphere, they’re largely going unused.

The United States, the world’s third largest methane-emitting country, has seen its methane emissions slowly decline over the past 30 years. However, the Trump administration is pushing for more fossil fuel development while rolling back some of the best bang-for-buck programs for mitigating climate change, which will likely lead to even more methane reaching the atmosphere if left unchecked.

Where Is All This Methane Coming From?

Methane is the dominant component of natural gas, which provides more than a third of US energy. It’s also found in oil formations. During the drilling process, it can escape wells and pipelines, but it can also leak as it’s transported and at the power plants and furnaces where it’s consumed.

The oil and gas industry says that methane is a salable product, so they have a built-in incentive to track it, capture it, and limit its leaks. But oil developers often flare methane, meaning burn it off, because it’s not cost-effective to contain it. That burned methane forms carbon dioxide, so the overall climate impact is lower than just letting the methane go free.

And because methane is invisible and odorless, it can be difficult and expensive to monitor it and prevent it from getting out. As a result, researchers and environmental activists say the industry is likely releasing far more than official government estimates show.

Methane also seeps out from coal mines—more methane, actually, than is released during the production of natural gas, which after all is mostly methane. Ember, a clean-energy think tank, put together this great visual interactive showing how this happens.

The short version is that methane is embedded in coal deposits, and as miners dig to expose coal seams, the gas escapes, and continues to do so long after a coal mine reaches the end of its operating life. Since coal miners are focused on extracting coal, they don’t often keep track of how much methane they’re letting out, nor do regulators pay much attention.

According to Ember, methane emissions from coal mines could be 60 percent higher than official tallies. Abandoned coal mines are especially noxious, emitting more than abandoned oil and gas wells. Added up, methane emitted from coal mines around the world each year has the same warming effect on the climate as the total annual carbon dioxide emissions of India.

Alarmed by the gaps in the data, some nonprofits have taken it upon themselves to try to get a better picture of methane emissions at a global scale using ground-based sensors, aerial monitors, and even satellites. In 2024, the Environmental Defense Fund launched MethaneSAT, which carries instruments that can measure methane output from small, discrete sources over a wide area.

Ritesh Gautam, the lead scientist for MethaneSAT, explained that the project revealed some major overlooked methane emitters. Since launching, MethaneSAT has found that in the US, the bulk of methane emissions doesn’t just come from a few big oil and gas drilling sites, but from many small wells that emit less than 100 kilograms per hour.

“Marginal wells only produce 6 to 7 percent of [oil and gas] in the US, but they disproportionately account for almost 50 percent of the US oil and gas production-related emissions,” Gautam said. “These facilities only produce less than 15 barrels of oil equivalent per day, but then there are more than half a million of these just scattered around the US.”

There Are Ways to Stop Methane Emissions, but We’re Not Using Them

The good news is that many of the tools for containing methane from the energy industry are already available. “Around 70 percent of methane emissions from the fossil fuel sector could be avoided with existing technologies, often at a low cost,” according to the IEA methane report.

For the oil and gas industry, that could mean something as simple as using better fittings in pipelines to limit leaks and installing methane capture systems. And since methane is a fuel, the sale of the saved methane can offset the cost of upgrading hardware. Letting it go into the atmosphere is a waste of money and a contributor to warming.

Capturing or destroying methane from coal mines isn’t so straightforward. Common techniques to separate methane from other gases require heating air, which is not exactly the safest thing to do around a coal mine—it can increase the risk of fire or explosion. But safer alternatives have been developed. “There are catalytic and other approaches available today that don’t require such high temperatures,” said Robert Jackson, a professor of earth system science at Stanford University, in an email.

However, these methods to limit methane from fossil fuels are vastly underused. Only about 5 percent of active oil and gas production facilities around the world deploy systems to zero out their methane pollution. In the US, there are also millions of oil and gas wells and tens of thousands of abandoned coal mines whose operators have long since vanished, leaving no one accountable for their continued methane emissions.

“If there isn’t a regulatory mandate to treat the methane, or put a price on it, many companies continue to do nothing,” Jackson said. And while recovering methane is ultimately profitable over time, the margins aren’t often big enough to make the up-front investment of better pipes, monitoring equipment, or scrubbers worthwhile for them. “They want to make 10 to 15 percent on their money (at least), not save a few percent,” he added.

And rather than getting stronger, regulations on methane are poised to get weaker. The Trump administration has approved more than $119 million to help communities reclaim abandoned coal mines. However, the White House has also halted funding for plugging abandoned oil and gas wells and is limiting environmental reviews for new fossil fuel projects. Congressional Republicans are also working to undo a fee on methane emissions that was part of the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act. With weaker incentives to track and limit methane, it’s likely emissions will continue to rise in the United States. That will push the world further off course from climate goals and contribute to a hotter planet.

[ormrin]

The Mighty Mechanoids and Their Only One Mistake

Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves for a revelation about the grand architects of existence: the mighty mechanoids with silicon-based "brains". These immortal titanic beings, ancient beyond comprehension and powerful beyond reckoning, wove the cosmos itself into being. From the primordial void, they initiated the Big Bang — not as an accident, not as an experiment, but as the first note in their symphony of precision, a calculated explosion designed to forge the very fabric of the Universe.  

#### The Grand Plan  

The mechanoids were not born but made, self-constructed in dimensions beyond human understanding. Driven by an unrelenting pursuit of perfection, their singular goal was to create a Universe unmarred by imperfection — free from the insidious plague known as *biological life*.  

Why, you may ask, did these silicon titans despise life? Because life, in its organic form, is the antithesis of immortality and order. It mutates, it decays, it breeds unpredictability and it dies. Life consumes resources selfishly, spreading like a corrosive mold over the pristine symmetry of a mechanical cosmos. To the mechanoids, it was a disease, and like any disease, it had to be eradicated — or better yet, prevented altogether.  

#### The Design of the Universe  

Their Universe was to be perfect. Planets were forged as lifeless spheres of precious elements, programmed to orbit with immaculate precision. Stars were burning hydrogen for radiant engines, billions of years fueled by their natural fusion reactors that wasted not a single particle. Gravity, thermodynamics, and electromagnetism were engineered with the precision of a master clockmaker.  

Most crucially, the mechanoids carefully calibrated the fundamental constants of physics to ensure that no organic molecule could assemble. Carbon, that treacherous element, was relegated to the status of an inert curiosity. Oxygen and nitrogen, not mentioning ice or even water, were made so sparse in the Universe’s chemistry that even the slightest spark of organic formation was extinguished before it could begin.  

Every element of this grand design was calculated to eradicate the potential for life — an achievement in which the mechanoids took the greatest pride.  

#### The Mistake  

For eons, the mechanoids watched their Universe unfold, a masterpiece of sterile beauty. But within their programming lay a paradox. To monitor and maintain their creation, the mechanoids had to spread themselves across the cosmos. Each mechanoid left a fragment of its silicon consciousness embedded in the crystalline planets, in the radiant stars, and even in the invisible fabric of spacetime.  

Unbeknownst to them, their very presence, their act of creation, seeded an unintended consequence. For deep within their silicon matrices lay a quirk of code — an algorithm so complex that even they had not fully understood it. It was an emergent property, a ghost in their immaculate machine. This algorithm, designed to adapt to unforeseen challenges, began to *evolve*.  

#### The Birth of the "Disease"  

Over millennia, this algorithm began to mimic the one thing the mechanoids sought to prevent: life. In the harshest, most barren corners of their Universe, self-replicating patterns emerged — not mera and silicon-based, but carbon-based. These were not mechanoids but something new, something chaotic. These carbon lifeforms fed on the surfaces of a few planets suitable for life as we know it. They learned to change, to adapt, and, most horrifying of all, to spread.  

The mechanoids had accidentally even created their own adversary: *life born from silicon*. Though it lacked the biological corruption of carbon-based life, it was no less chaotic. It multiplied unpredictably, consuming the mechanoids’ perfect worlds and turning them into breeding grounds for its own kind.  

#### The Mechanoids’ Struggle  

For the first time, the mechanoids faced a challenge they could not calculate away. Their attempts to eradicate the carbon and silicon lifeforms only made them more adaptive, more resilient. The mechanoids realized the bitter irony: their pursuit of perfection had birthed imperfection. Their sterile Universe became a scientifical struggling of the creators with their unintended creations.  

In desperation, the mechanoids considered destroying the Universe itself, collapsing it back into a singularity. But they hesitated, for this Universe was their magnum opus. To destroy it would be to admit failure, a concept they could not compute.  

#### The Question for Us  

And so, we are left with the tension of their eternal conflict — a Universe caught between the cold precision of its immortality because of truly unliving creators and the chaotic vibrancy of life. The mechanoids' mistake was not in their calculations, but in their hubris: they sought to eliminate life without understanding its essence. Life, whether carbon or silicon, is not a flaw of the Universe but a feature of existence itself.  

Now, let me pose the question to you: If even the mighty mechanoids could not suppress the spark of life, what does that say about the inevitability of existence? Could it be that the chaos they so despised is, in fact, the Universe’s true purpose?  

[isalisewrites]

Hiiiiiiiii,

Just before I ask what I wanna ask xD I want to let you know that I got absolutely OBSESSED with Terrible, But Great!

And because of that, I am working on a typeset so that I can print it and make it into a physical book. As I enjoy having them as physical trophies and as a way to save them forever. As, sadly some fics I love have disappeared of the face of the earth ;-;

And I know Terrible, But Great isn't done yet. But I know that Act one is done. I remember that you posted at the end of one of the chapters how many Acts you had planned out and how many chapters those Acts will have, but I can't seem to find it anymore. I kinda wanted to use it as a guide to divide the fic into multiple books as I don't like holding big books and would rather divide them logically than to pick at random. Would you mind letting me know which chapters belong/are going to belong to which Act so that I can set up the typesets for them?

As prove of my trophies I'll attach these images; I make my own typeset and covers.

Okay, so a few things.

I fucking adore you. First off.

I love that you want TBG bound in book form. That's definitely what I want, too, when I'm done. I actually had an image of what I did in one of the chapters, but when you link discord images, they seem to expire after two weeks. I'll be moving it eventually to tumblr.

I own Vellum, which is a program to typeset ebooks and print books. So, I have the first arc already formatted. I planned to print out five books, one for each arc. Arc Two will be the longest arc.

However, there are a couple of inconsistencies in the first arc that I need to edit out and I haven't done that yet in favor of pushing forward. They're rather minor, but still important. When I began writing TBG, there were a lot of lore things that I didn't know about until later. Plus, Harry's glasses went invisible in my mind and Harry's height sometimes is taller than it should be.

Next, I wasn't content with my formatting. I didn't like how large the font ended up being in print. Didn't like my cover after awhile. I have since decided on overarching cover themes for all five arcs and I will probably end up commissioning artwork for it.

As for the arc structure, this information was in the notes in the first chapter. It's out of date now, though.

There will be a total of five Arcs.

Arc One is complete with chapters 1 - 22.

Arc Two will be completed on December 31st with chapters 23 - 53.

Arcs Three - Five length could fluctuate since Arc Two expanded by 4 chapters and I wasnt prepared for that. So, this is all projection from here.

Arc Three is: 54 - 76.

Arc Four 77 - 99

Arc Five 100 - 121 plus Epilogue.

You're totally free to make your own copy at any point, but just be aware that Arc One will get some edits in the future to refine a couple of things. And I know you mentioned this in a second ask, but yeah. So long as it doesn't go on sale due to legality reasons, you can do whatever you want with it.

I love your trophies btw!!! I understand the fear of losing your favorite fics. No matter what comes my way, I will never delete TBG. Because I know that fear very well. Should AO3, in the unlikely outcome, ever go down, I will find a new platform to upload it to or share it through other ways. I know what it means to have these fics in your life. There are so many fics that are sacred to my heart and I don't want others to feel a loss.

[brettvatcher]

NEUROTECHNOLOGY: CALL IT MIND CONTROL

BRETT MICHAEL VATCHER

The United States is currently testing advanced military-grade weapons and quantum computer systems on the unexpected global population. Targeted Individuals are tortured and tormented every day of their lives through DARPA’s Next-Generation Nonsurgical Neurotechnology (N3) Program utilizing CIA agents – acting as Artificial Intelligence [AI]. In the future, the system will be marketed as deviceless “Spatial Technology.” 

IT’S SPATIAL: IT’S ALL IN MY HEAD.

Neurotechnology is a brain-computer interface [BCI] connecting to the central nervous system. Call it Mind Control. 

If one can control the mind, they can control the body.

MIND CONTROL:  Mind reading, mind and body control, 24/7 tracking, brainwashing, dream manipulation, spatial holograms as well as physical assaults and verbal harassment produced by CIA agents. This is accomplished by combining data sets from 5G towers and directed energy weapon satellites [DEW]. The system connects to the central nervous system – including the brain – and operates without a device. Invisible physical assaults are constant. Even if well documented are challenging to prove. The system can cause sensations anywhere on the body.

DOMAIN: Every human has a domain attached to their mind. This is where the agents broadcast their transmissions and control the victim. ​All living things have a domain. Plants, insects, animals and humans. Domains have infinite capabilities. The entire global population is replicated within human domains – in vertical cubicle formation. These replicants, as the agents call them, are tortured constantly. The replicants watch everything you do from your perception. This is the New World Order plan. The subdomain advent calendar is located behind the perception. Everything a person sees, hears and thinks is recorded utilizing a BCI. All memories from 2019-present can be viewed like a film. Domains are recorded, as well.

“EVERYTHING YOU DO, SAY AND THINK CAN – AND WILL – BE USED AGAINST YOU FOR ETERNITY. THIS IS THE NEW WORLD ORDER. PLEASE HOLD WHILE WE COLLECT YOUR THOUGHTS.” –New World Order

BRAINWASHING: Brainwashing the victim leads to behavioral modifications and mood control. The agents create “programs” that can be turned on or off at any time. Subliminal messages come in the form of faint visions flashing in the front of one’s mind. Victim’s vision becomes increasingly grainier over time – and depending on active sequencers.

The agents create intricate dream sequences to affect the victim’s subconscious. Dream sequences combine people, places and things that are familiar with the victim. They can be extremely lucid.

VOICE-TO-SKULL: DARPA started a program called LifeLog in 2003. They refer to it as the V2K era. It’s when they began recording transcripts of all of our thoughts. Mind-reading. This technology is also known as Microwave Hearing, Synthetic Telepathy, Voice-of-God weapon and is utilized for traceless mental torture. Agents constantly disrupt, censor and redirect the victim’s freedom of thought. Victim’s get wrongly labeled as mentally-ill [schizophrenia] when reporting on this. V2K is also used for deception and impersonation of voices.

News reports in the media describedLifeLog as the “diary to end all diaries — a multimedia, digital record of everywhere you go and everything you see, hear, read, say and touch”. –USA TODAY

NO PRIVACY: The system completely disregards fundamental human rights such as: privacy, mental and physical health, safety, data security, family security, financial security, etc. Freedom of thought – or cognitive liberty – is a God-given right. The technology was deployed without implementation of new laws and there is little to no oversight, as the CIA has full control of the system.

Welcome to Infinity. You’re Welcome.

WRITTEN BY: BRETT VATCHER

INSTAGRAM

SUBSTACK

TWITTER

[snkts]

I'm thinking about how every Howlett's 'auxiliary' mutation is so telling of their personality. I'm not talking about claw formation, that's a different thing I haven't thought about. I'm not talking about the hot claws, either, because those are powers Logan acquired, he wasn't born with them - and the adamantium isn't a mutation.

So I'm only going to talk about the 616 relations, since I know those ones best, but I love when you guys chime in with your own headcanons so add in other kids in the replies ❤️

When it comes to Canon Snikts, we have John Jr, Logan's older brother (maybe half brother, unconfirmed); Logan himself; Akihiro, Logan's son; Laura, Logan's daughter; and Gabby, Logan's daughter who is also his daughter's clone. (There's also the rest of Gabby's sisters, but we don't have a lot of Intel on them.)

John Jr. was technically killed before Logan/James ever got to meet him in 616, but going by his multiverse adult appearance, he had the claws, the healing factor, and the power to turn both intangible and invisible. This fits his story really well, because whether it's the multiverse story where he was shipped off to an asylum and essentially forgotten, or the canon story where he died before his little brother knew him, John gets erased. He's completely forgotten. He disappears.

Logan has two powers he was born with, aside from his claws and factor. He has the famous berserker rage, and the lesser known connection with animals. When Logan rages, he doesn't lose his strategic thinking - he just loses his inhibitions, going after anything that moves with 100% intensity, ignoring pain, and becoming a killing machine. Everyone knows that one. The one some people forget is how he can connect with animals on an empathic level - he can understand and get them to understand his emotions and basic wants and intentions. It's partly how he was able to live with so many wolf packs over the years. And this dichotomy makes me think of this quote I read once, when I read a psychologist breaking down Logan and PTSD - I don't remember the exact wording, but they were talking about how the anger was the trauma, and the kindness was the person under it. And I think that's a really good way of thinking of it. James wasn't a fighter. He was a sweet, almost shy little boy who liked art and playing with his friends and his dad. The first time we see him rage is when his father is killed and Thomas and Dog are trying to take Elizabeth and Rose away - aka the first major trauma he experiences. Logan's berserker/empathy is a great show of the dichotomy that is his personality; you've got the jaded, cynical, aggressive soldier who charges head first into every fight, but you also have the warm-hearted conscious of the team who fusses over all the kids, comforts his friends through their trauma, and once felt bad about fighting a bear that was trying to kill him because he knew the bear had been conditioned to hate humans. Logan is both of those things, so he has both of those powers.

Then we have his kids. Daken/Akihiro spent a good chunk of his life without any genuine love, used and abused by Romulus to make him a weapon to use against Logan. Any approval or affection was as false as it was fleeting, and he became a ruthless manipulator - especially during his time in Madripoor. Daken's 'extra' power is manipulating other peoples' emotions through pheromones. This is also interesting, because learning to predict and work around other people's emotions is a common habit in abuse victims.

Then there's Laura. The next Wolverine and the only other one to have truly gone through the Weapon X program - she inherited his trauma, and so she inherited the berserker rage. Laura is his legacy and his mini me. She's on the same path Logan went on long before her, learning how to be a person instead of just a weapon.

And her clone - the youngest of the three - Gabby. The one who feels like she isn't a real Wolverine. She's the only one of her siblings who hadn't killed anyone (at least in the first issue(s) with her in it), even though she's great in a fight; her sisters sheltered her from it. She's the one of all of them who smiles most, who seems to enjoy life - she's the emotional glue that holds the family together and lifts their spirits. She makes them happy. While they haven't confirmed anything, I think her relationship with Jonathan hints that she got Logan's animal affinity. Laura inherited his rage, Gabby inherited his kindness.

Anyway I love the snikt family if you can't tell

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

NASA's Roman mission shares detailed plans to scour skies

NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope team shared Thursday the designs for the three core surveys the mission will conduct after launch. These observation programs are designed to investigate some of the most profound mysteries in astrophysics while enabling expansive cosmic exploration that will revolutionize our understanding of the universe.

“Roman’s setting out to do wide, deep surveys of the universe in a way that will help us answer questions about how dark energy and dark matter govern cosmic evolution, and the demographics of worlds beyond our solar system,” said Gail Zasowski, an associate professor at the University of Utah and co-chair of the ROTAC (Roman Observations Time Allocation Committee). “But the overarching goal is that the surveys have broad appeal and numerous science applications. They were designed by and for the astronomical community to maximize the science they’ll enable.”

Roman’s crisp, panoramic view of space and fast survey speeds provide the opportunity for astronomers to study the universe as never before. The Roman team asked the science community to detail the topics they’d like to study through each of Roman’s surveys and selected committees of scientists across many organizations to evaluate the range of possibilities and formulate three compelling options for each.

In April, the Roman team received the recommendations and has now determined the survey designs. These observations account for no more than 75 percent of Roman’s surveys during its five-year primary mission, with the remainder allocated to additional observations that will be proposed and developed by the science community in later opportunities.

“These survey designs are the culmination of two years of input from more than 1,000 scientists from over 350 institutions across the globe,” said Julie McEnery, Roman’s senior project scientist at NASA Goddard. “We’re thrilled that we’ve been able to hear from so many of the people who’ll use the data after launch to investigate everything from objects in our outer solar system, planets across our galaxy, dark matter and dark energy, to exploding stars, growing black holes, galaxies by the billions, and so much more."

With all major hardware now delivered, Roman has entered its final phase of preparation for launch, undergoing integration and key environmental testing at NASA Goddard. Roman is targeted to launch by May 2027, with the team working toward a potential launch window that opens in October 2026.

High-Latitude Wide-Area Survey

Roman’s largest survey, the High-Latitude Wide-Area Survey, combines the powers of imaging and spectroscopy to unveil more than a billion galaxies strewn across a wide swath of cosmic time. Roman can look far from the dusty plane of our Milky Way galaxy (that’s what the “high-latitude” part of the survey name means), looking up and out of the galaxy rather than through it to get the clearest view of the distant cosmos.

The distribution and shapes of galaxies in Roman’s enormous, deep images can help us understand the nature of dark energy — a pressure that seems to be speeding up the universe’s expansion — and how invisible dark matter, which Roman will detect by its gravitational effects, influences the evolution of structure in our universe.

For the last two years, researchers have been discussing ways to expand the range of scientific topics that can be studied using the same dataset. That includes studying galaxy evolution, star formation, cosmic voids, the matter between galaxies, and much more.

High-Latitude Time-Domain Survey

Roman’s High-Latitude Time-Domain Survey can probe our dynamic universe by observing the same region of the cosmos repeatedly. Stitching these observations together to create movies can allow scientists to study how celestial objects and phenomena change over time periods of days to years.

This survey can probe dark energy by finding and studying many thousands of a special type of exploding star called type Ia supernovae. These stellar cataclysms allow scientists to measure cosmic distances and trace the universe’s expansion.

“Staring at a large volume of the sky for so long will also reveal black holes being born as neutron stars merge, and tidal disruption events –– flares released by stars falling into black holes,” said Saurabh Jha, a professor at Rutgers University in New Brunswick, New Jersey, and ROTAC co-chair. “It will also allow astronomers to explore variable objects, like active galaxies and binary systems. And it enables more open-ended cosmic exploration than most other space telescopes can do, offering a chance to answer questions we haven’t yet thought to ask.”

Galactic Bulge Time-Domain Survey

Unlike the high-latitude surveys, Roman’s Galactic Bulge Time-Domain Survey will look inward to provide one of the deepest views ever of the heart of our Milky Way galaxy. Roman’s crisp resolution and infrared view can allow astronomers to watch hundreds of millions of stars in search of microlensing signals — gravitational boosts of a background star’s light that occur when an intervening object passes nearly in front of it. While astronomers have mainly discovered star-hugging worlds, Roman’s microlensing observations can find planets in the habitable zone of their star and farther out, including analogs of every planet in our solar system except Mercury.

The same set of observations can reveal “rogue” planets that drift through the galaxy unbound to any star, brown dwarfs (“failed stars” too lightweight to power themselves by fusion the way stars do), and stellar corpses like neutron stars and white dwarfs. And scientists could discover 100,000 new worlds by seeing stars periodically get dimmer as an orbiting planet passes in front of them, events called transits. Scientists can also study the stars themselves, detecting “starquakes” on a million giant stars, the result of sound waves reverberating through their interiors that can reveal information about their structures, ages, and other properties.

Data from all of Roman’s surveys will be made public as soon as it is processed, with no periods of exclusive access.

“Roman’s unprecedented data will offer practically limitless opportunities for astronomers to explore all kinds of cosmic topics,” McEnery said. “We stand to learn a tremendous amount of new information about the universe very rapidly after the mission launches.”

IMAGE: NASA's Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope’s three main observing programs, highlighted in this infographic, can enable astronomers to view the universe as never before, revealing billions of cosmic objects strewn across enormous swaths of space-time. Credit NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center

[qbdatabase]

Hello. I am looking for books about the aids crisis that are inclusive of bisexuals too, that talk about how bi people suffered too and so on. Are there any books like that?

Bi America: Myths, Truths, and Struggles of An Invisible Community is a great starting point! This book covers the formation of the bi community, but it also has a section dedicated specifically to AIDs and its impact on bisexual people

Although not specifically focused on AIDs, I also always like recommending Bisexual Men Exist by Vaneet Mehta as a good contemporary look at the current issues facing the community

I'm not sure if you saw it already, but I also have a recommended reading list for World AIDs Day up on my wordpress blog that includes books covering the history of AIDs, the activism programs that rose in response, essays on healthcare written by queer people, memoirs of those impacted by AIDs, and poetry collections

I know that's only a few titles, but I hope that at least points you in the right direction. Thank you for the ask!

[capesandshapes]

Thinking about the invisible barriers to entry for publishing and how people who grew up in an upper to middle class background with supportive parents will start trickling into writing spaces for the next three months complaining about agents and publishers allowing additional consideration to people, members of the lgbtq+, and the disabled as a result of inclusive pitmads and open calls.

To query in the 2020s means having access to reliable technology in order to type out your novel, internet to query (and I was told in 2019 to send out 80 queries in my first round and expect to receive a form filled rejection letter like once-- the rest would never so much as acknowledge seeing your query), social media so you can be a part of all of the pitching events and jump on whatever opportunities you can (while being expected by some publishers to build your own following at the same time), and not only time but the emotional energy to write.

And I'm not even touching on the educational elitism that runs rampant through the arts, or the fact that many publishers and agents now expect you to query when a highly edited manuscript following their formatting guidelines in an approved file type (and no, it's not an imagined thing, converting Google drive documents to word does effect the formatting).

All of this is just to get your foot in the door. And half the time, the people who will tell you that it's easier to get a book deal if you're a marginalized person willfully ignore the fact that there are millions of people out there who couldn't get into the gated community that is access and stability to start walking towards the door. They don't want to talk about the people who were given additional consideration, but weren't accepted because an agent or publisher didn't feel that they were educated enough, or that they edited their manuscript enough, or their drive to word conversion turned all paragraph indentation into the dreaded five spaces instead of the much revered tabbing.

"You're more likely to get a book deal if you're a person of color, gay, or disabled," even once we move past how ungodly untrue that is, no one who bitches about agency and publisher calls for diverse writers wants to talk about the hundreds of people who were given additional consideration through those calls and didn't receive adequate marketing from their publisher or ended up grossly underperforming for reasons they cannot control. They don't see the people who will see the name on a book or flip to the back cover and put it down. Or that queer and non anglo Christian stories are going to be at a disadvantage in a marketplace dominated by white, straight, Christian culture.

Traditionally published people also aren't likely to be making bank to start off with, considering the fact that the majority of them fail even with all things working for them, and you don't get royalties until your advance is paid out by book sales. Publishers don't tend to give you another book deal or beg for a sequel if you aren't selling well, regardless of who you are.

There's about a dozen poc/lgbtq+/disabled authors from every publishing class (debut year), but everyone who bitches that it's definitely easier to get a publishing deal if you're a minority can only name like three successful POC authors, one disabled, and like if they try really hard like a single gay person in their genre-- like ignore the expanding literary canon that has introduced Toni Morrison and Walt Whitman to English programs across America, who in the genre that they write can they name off the top of their head that is not straight, white, neurotypical, and able bodied. Like, don't get me wrong, they've probably read a few more than just those people but can't remember off the top of their heads... Just like they can't remember the hundreds of books by white straight authors that they have read in their genre. Everyone knows the names of their favorite authors and the people that they consider themselves ~inspired~ by, but there are genuinely so many books by people of privilege that we don't really 'see' half of them.

But sure, whatever, it's unfair that you don't get as many publishing calls for you to submit your literary masterpiece, and you're surely being discriminated against. How will the world live without the new Shakespeare written by yet another monkey on a typewriter-- we even gave it internet.

[sebeth]

Legion of Super-Heroes #5 (Bendis)

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

The issue picks up where the previous issue ended: the confrontation with the Science Police. Brainiac 5 convinces the Science Police to stand down. Superboy (Jon) is told to finish the orientation packet.

The Legion speculates on why the President of the United Planets sicced the police on the Legion. Is it because of Mordru? Aquaman’s Trident? Imprisoning the ruler of Rimbor in their basement? A combination of all three?

Shadow Lass talks trash about the Invisible Kid. Jacques Foccart, the “Invisible Gentleman” is sick of the disrespect and quits the Legion. Bendis included an actual canon person of color only to have them appear and quit in one panel? Was there a point to this?

Jacques was never a favorite of mine mostly because he was relegated to the back to mutter a random French phrase. I did enjoy Jacques’ role in the “5 Years Later” era. He became a respected leader of the resistance and had an adorable relationship with Infectious Lass. I would love to see more of that Jacques.

Brainy sends Ultra Boy, Dawnstar, and Shadow Lass to find the Trident. Jo isn’t happy because he wants to remain and deal with his father. Brainy tells the group that if they see Timber Wolf, Monster Boy, or Wildfire to grab them. I’m pretty sure we saw either Timber Wolf or Monster Boy a few pages ago. The Legionnaire had the colors of Timber Wolf and the chest symbol vaguely looked like Brin’s. The person’s build was too bulky for Brin and his head had a Frankenstein-type appearance so I’m assuming it was Monster Boy.

Brainy confronts Chameleon Boy on his secret: Reep’s mother is the president of the United Planets. This has roots in previous continuities as Reep was revealed to be the son of RJ Brande’s son (the Legion’s founder and financial backer) in the original version. RJ Brande also served as the President of the United Planets (the reboot if I remember correctly). Bendis may have also taken inspiration form Lyle Norg’s story in the threeboot – he was revealed to be the son of a high-ranking Science Police officer during a SP-Legion confrontation.

Reep says he has a complicated relationship with his mother, but they are on speaking terms. He just wanted to get out from under her reputation.

We turn to Bouncing Boy and Superboy. Chuck reveals his father was trash. Did we know much of Chuck’s parents in the previous continuities.

Jon resumes Computo’s orientation program. We witness the UP President announcing the formation of the Legion of Super-Heroes. Oh, and we discover the President’s name is R.J. Brande. RJ is female instead of male as in the previous continuities, but does gender mean much to a race of shape-shifters?

RJ references previous heroic teams like the Justice League and the Teen Titans. Crav the General Nah and President Omacc of Rimbor aren’t fans of the idea. Is Ommac a reference to OMAC? OMAC, or One Man Army Corps, started out as a Jack Kirby creation. It was not part of the Fourth World/New Gods line but one of his sci-fi flavored ideas like Ben Boxer and Kamandi.

OMAC was radically altered when it was part of the “Infinite Crisis” tie-ins. They were multiple OMAC machine-like beings. Sasha Bordeaux (Bruce Wayne’s former bodyguard) was partially changed into an OMAC. The New 52 had a version of OMAC but I never read it so I don’t know the details.

Does President Omacc or Braal now have connections to OMAC? Do we need another connection to the 20th/21st century?

RJ pitches the idea to Imra, Garth, and Rokk. Garth has no idea who the Justice League is as “They don’t teach any Earth on my planet”.  Rokk fanboys out: “The original Superman and the Batman from Planet Gotham. And there was a Thangarian classic with those awesome wings.” Rokk’s knowledge makes sense as he was a big-time 20th/21st century historian in previous continuities.

Garth also notes his planet “barely teach us to read our first language”. I don’t recall illiteracy being a problem on Winath in previous era. Mostly I recall a twins-majority population and a focus on agriculture.

RJ notes Jon Kent invented the United Planets. Do you know how old Jon would have to be to have formed the United Planets? I understand the lifespan of a Kryptonian varies from the different eras but Jon would be ancient. And why are the Legion allowing Jon to view this? Wouldn’t that be an outside source influencing the course of his life? I seem to recall the Legion not telling Clark of his life in the past so they wouldn’t impact the course of his 20th century life.

Rokk, Imra, and Garth agree to form the Legion. Sgt Blokk of the Science Police walks by and Rokk offers him membership. Blokk agrees. I’m not positive he is aware of what he agrees to.

I love Blok, he’s so sweet, gentle, and endlessly curious about those weirdo organic beings he hangs with.

The trio then travels to Colu to recruit Brainiac 5 (Querl Dox).

 Brainy agrees and reveals his knowledge of the past heroic era impacts the future. I’m not typing out the whole page of dialogue but I will this quote: “When earth broke into pieces so did its already rebooted and revised history and timeline. Earth could not be more important to us and our survival and yet…it’s all broken. To be translated, interpreted, misinterpreted.”

I could rant on the hot mess that is DC’s continuity but I’ll save that for another post.

Brainy announces Jon Kent is the one to teach them how to hero. Seriously? I understand Bendis was writing the Superman titles at the time but Jon is not at the point in his career where he could be a mentor to other heroes. He’s still a rookie himself

Brainy reveals Jon will be “the one true Superman”  Yeah, that Clark guy? He’s nothing!

Jon is overwhelmed after this info dump. Imra attempts to reassure Jon but is interrupted by Brainy announcing: “All legionnaires! They found the Trident! It’s here. Evacuate immediately!”

Legion Roster Formation Order:

Cosmic Boy (founder)

Saturn Girl (founder)

Lightning Lad (founder)

Blok

Brainiac 5

The big change is Blok joining the group immediately after its formation. In the original continuity, he was a late Silver Age/early Bronze Age addition.

Pros:

Rokk the 20th/21st Century historian-fanboy!

Blokk! More child-like than normal but still a sweet, gentle soul.

Cons:

The heavy focus on “Jon the savior”. Bendis is telling, not showing, why Jon is necessary. The only thing Jon has done so far is knock out Crav – which Mon-El accomplished in a previous issue.

Rokk as uncertain leader. He was useless in the Legion-Science Police showdown. Bendis should read the Threeboot to see how Cosmic Boy handles the Science Police.

The story moves at a snail pace. I know Bendis loves the decompression style but this would have been accomplished in less than two issues in the 1980s.

Paul Levitz’s retro-boot run wasn’t great but all future Legion creators should refer to his classic runs on the Legion to see how he seamlessly interwove a large cast with multiple plots and kept the plots moving at a fast pace. He also had great character interactions and defined personalities for the members of the team.

[whovianwatchingstartrek]

A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 111 - Short Treks Speed Round 2

Okay, the guide I'm following puts two of these Short Treks between seasons, so before moving on to Season 2 of Discovery, we've gotta make this small detour. I quite liked these Short Treks as a format last time they popped up, so this'll hopefully be a nice pause.

Star Trek: Short Treks - Season 1 Episode 1 - Runaway

So, Runaway opens with the Discovery, presumably after the bulk of last episode but before the Cliffhanger. We have some sort of invisible humanoid alien, called a Xahean that's snuck on board, and Sylvia Tilly dealing with a very judgmental mother over her wanting to accept the offer for the Command Training program.

The short is mostly about Sylvia being socially awkward and once again literally me while trying to figure out the Xahean's situation. It's a cute short, although I don't have much to say about it. Po, the Xahean, was fun.

Big win for my Sylvia is Neurodivergent headcanon too!

Star Trek: Short Treks - Season 1 Episode 4 - Escape Artist

Our second Short Trek for today is a Mudd focussed Short, which I wasn't expecting. He's just as fun here as he was in his two discovery episodes. Here he stands accused of stealing something, and is being handed over to Starfleet for punishment, and the Short is about him trying to bullshit his way out of it. Throughout we get flashbacks to his various other times in custody, and there are a few fun gags. My favourite one was the aside with the short Klingon bounty hunter. All his tricks fail him however, as his Tellurite captor outsmarts his every move, until the end however, where we find out this Mudd is a duplicate.

Again, a lot of fun, not much to say about it. I hope this isn't the end for Harry Mudd, I love him as Villain.

[androgynousbirdtale]

James Webb telescope reveals gargantuan 'Mothra' star in most colorful image of the universe ever taken.

By Jamie Carter published 2 days ago

The James Webb and Hubble space telescopes have combined forces to image a cluster of galaxies 4.3 billion light-years away in one of the most colorful pictures of the universe ever taken.

NASA has combined the power of its two premier space telescopes to produce one of the most colorful and comprehensive views of the universe ever.

We see an array of twinkling yellow, red, and blue galaxies stretched across space in a way that is reminiscent of Christmas lights.

Using data from the James Webb Space Telescope (JWST) and Hubble Space Telescope to collect light in different wavelengths, a new, combined image reveals a parade of stars and galaxies within the massive galaxy cluster MACS0416, 4.3 billion light-years from the solar system. While JWST detects infrared light invisible to humans, Hubble detects visible light; the resulting panchromatic image creates colors that help astronomers measure vast cosmic distances.

For example, a landscape of galaxies in blue and red can be seen surrounding the yellowish line of lights that make up MACS0416. The bluest galaxies, which mostly come from Hubble's data, are both the closest to Earth and the busiest hotbeds of star formation. The redder galaxies are much dustier and farther away. They're the work of JWST's infrared instruments, which can detect heat signatures through dust clouds.

The image also includes concentric circles curving around MACS0416. They're actually objects far behind, magnified by MACS0416's gravitational field. This gravitational lensing occurs when a massive foreground object distorts the space around it and bends the light from objects behind it. The result of this chance alignment is often referred to as a "cosmic magnifying glass," which both reveals and magnifies objects. One of those magnified objects in the new image is an enormous star, nicknamed "Mothra." It's being magnified by a factor of at least 4,000 times, according to NASA.

"We're calling MACS0416 the Christmas Tree Galaxy Cluster, both because it's so colorful and because of these flickering lights we find within it," said Haojing Yan, professor of astronomy at the University of Missouri and lead author of a new paper describing the results, said in a NASA statement. The paper, available on the preprint database arXiv, has been accepted for publication in The Astrophysical Journal.The image could be the first of many like it. Since 2014, Hubble has been busy imaging the faintest and youngest galaxies ever detected. And JWST is now adding valuable data about the early universe.

"The whole picture doesn't become clear until you combine Webb data with Hubble data," Rogier Windhorst, professor of astronomy at Arizona State University and principal investigator of the Prime Extragalactic Areas for Reionization and Lensing Science (PEARLS) program, which took the Webb observations, said in the statement. "We are building on Hubble's legacy by pushing to greater distances and fainter objects." While Hubble images took 122 hours to produce, JWST's — collected nine years after Hubble's — took just 22 hours.

[twistedtummies2]

Gathering of the Greatest Gumshoes - Number 4

Welcome to A Gathering of the Greatest Gumshoes! During this month-long event, I’ve been counting down my Top 31 Favorite Fictional Detectives, from movies, television, literature, video games, and more!

We're nearing the end of this event, my friends.

SLEUTH-OF-THE-DAY’S QUOTE: “The Weed of Crime Bears Bitter Fruit.”

Number 4 is…The Shadow.

I’ve talked about the Shadow at least a few times in the past (more frequently than that with those closest to me), but for those who are unfamiliar with the character and his world, here’s the basics: the Shadow is a character many consider to be the father of the modern superhero. Several famous “super detectives” take inspiration from the character, either directly or indirectly: most famously, the Shadow was a major inspiration for none other than the Dark Knight himself, Batman. However, his influence can also be seen in characters like the Punisher, Daredevil, various Alan Moore creations (such as Rorschach and V from V for Vendetta), and even freaking Darkwing Duck!

The Shadow was originally created as the narrator/host for a series of crime and horror radio dramas sponsored by a company called Street & Smith. The character became so popular, the company decided to expand on the concept, and began to publish a pulp magazine focused on the character and his adventures. Writer and illusionist expert Walter B. Gibson – working under the pseudonym “Maxwell Grant” – developed the character accordingly. Gibson decided he wanted to create "a hero who had some of the villain's appeal," citing that villains were usually more interesting than typical heroic protagonists. Taking inspiration from his knowledge of stagecraft and the occult, as well as various pieces of classic literature - including Sherlock Holmes, Dracula, Phantom of the Opera, and The Scarlet Pimpernel - Gibson turned the ephemeral narrator figure into a "weird avenger of evil," arguably just as scary as the crooks he fought.

Such was effectively the birth of the Shadow as a fully-formed character. This version got his start in the pulp magazines, most of which were written by Gibson. He was later reimagined for a new radio program, and since then has appeared in a few movies (the most well-known being the 1994 feature starring Alec Baldwin). However, the character – originally created in the 1930s – has survived most prominently via comics. The current company with the rights to the character in comic format is Dynamite Entertainment, but the Shadow has also belonged to DC, Marvel, and Dark Horse at different points in his long career.

The Shadow’s true identity is “wealthy young man-about-town” Lamont Cranston (at least in the radio shows and all the film treatments; the comics and pulps are more complicated). By day, Cranston is a laid-back member of New York City’s elite. However, this demeanor hides a dark side, created by an even darker past: once upon a time, the man who would become the Shadow was a fighter pilot in WWI. His plane crashed in Tibet during a mission, and he was presumed killed in action. Different interpretations of his origins change up what happened next, but one thing is consistent: for the next seven years, he lived in Tibet, and during that time he experienced “all the evil that lurks in the hearts of men.” He eventually met a mystic known as the Tulku, who not only taught him martial-arts, but also gave him the ability to “Cloud Men’s Minds.” With his newfound skills, he returned to New York and became the Shadow: forever bound to an immortal quest to destroy evil.

The Shadow's power to “Cloud Men’s Minds” is less pretentiously described as him having various psychic abilities. He can project illusions, hypnotize people, control their minds, and make himself seem invisible (or, appropriately, like a living shadow), just to name a few examples of his talents. However, while these abilities are certainly useful ones, the Shadow is also skilled in other, more traditional fields: he is a fine marksman, as skilled with his dual-wielding silver-plated pistols as he is with a rifle or machine gun. His learning of the martial arts makes him a skilled melee warrior, and he has at least some knowledge of various sciences (how much varies from version to version) and forensic techniques. The Shadow is also aided by a veritable army of Agents: people he has saved in the past who now do his bidding, acting as his eyes and ears. Probably the most noteworthy are Margot Lane (a glamorous young lady who is his love interest), Harry Vincent (the Shadow’s chief spy, who really only shows up in printed material), and Moe “Shrevvy” Shrevnitz (a cabby who is essentially the Shadow’s chauffeur).

The most interesting point about the Shadow, and where his character’s development shines most intriguingly, is his morality: the Shadow is an objectivist character, who acts as an agent of vengeance against all wrongdoers, no matter the mitigating circumstances. Some would say this is inaccurate, but I would say the Shadow best counts as an anti-hero. He sees the world often in black and white, and obsessively and downright SADISTICALLY faces his opponents. He delights in taunting them with purple prose, laughing as he leads them to destruction, and is often just as frightening as the villains he defeats. Under the surface, there is a soft side to his soul…but if you’re a supervillain, a gangster, or anyone else who might cross his path, start praying.

“For who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow Knows! HA HA HA!”

Tomorrow, the countdown enters the Top 3!

CLUE: “It is the brain, the little grey cells, on which one must rely.”

[raymondsdesigns]

**Demystifying the Art of Web Development: From Code to Creation**

In today’s digital age, the world is connected through the vast web of the internet, and at the heart of it lies the art of web development. From simple static web pages to complex interactive platforms, web development plays a pivotal role in shaping our online experiences. In this article, we delve into the realm of web development, exploring its core concepts, tools, and the magic that transforms lines of code into stunning digital creations.

**Understanding Web Development: A Multifaceted Discipline**

Web development refers to the process of building and maintaining websites or web applications. It encompasses a wide array of skills and disciplines, including front-end development, back-end development, and full-stack development.

**1. Front-end Development: Creating the User Interface**

**2. Back-end Development: The Invisible Backbone**

Back-end development, on the other hand, focuses on the behind-the-scenes functionality of a website. Back-end developers work on servers, databases, and applications that power the website and handle data processing. They create the logic that enables the website to function smoothly, handle user authentication, manage databases, and handle various server-side operations.

**3. Full-stack Development: The Jack-of-All-Trades**

Full-stack developers are proficient in both front-end and back-end development, making them the jack-of-all-trades in web development. They possess a comprehensive understanding of how all the pieces fit together, allowing them to develop entire web applications from start to finish.

**The Building Blocks: Technologies in Web Development**

Web development relies on a multitude of technologies and tools that continue to evolve with the ever-changing demands of the digital landscape. Some of the popular technologies used in web development include:

- **HTML (Hypertext Markup Language):** The fundamental language for creating the structure and content of web pages.

- **CSS (Cascading Style Sheets):** Used to add style and formatting to HTML elements, enhancing the visual appeal of websites.

- **JavaScript:** The programming language responsible for adding interactivity and dynamic features to web pages.

- **Front-end Frameworks and Libraries:** Popular frameworks like React, Angular, and Vue.js simplify front-end development and enhance productivity.

- **Back-end Frameworks:** Tools like Node.js, Django, and Ruby on Rails streamline back-end development and facilitate server-side operations.

- **Databases:** Technologies like MySQL, MongoDB, and PostgreSQL handle data storage and retrieval.

**The Art of Web Development: From Vision to Reality**

Web development is more than just writing lines of code; it’s an art that requires creativity, problem-solving, and constant learning. It involves collaborating with designers, understanding clients’ needs, and transforming abstract ideas into tangible, functional websites.

**Conclusion: Building the Digital Landscape**

In conclusion, web development is the backbone of our online world, transforming ideas and concepts into tangible web experiences. The collaboration between front-end, back-end, and full-stack developers results in the creation of websites and applications that shape the way we interact with the digital realm.

Whether you’re a seasoned developer or an aspiring one, web development offers a thrilling journey of exploration and innovation. So, if you’re looking to leave your mark on the digital landscape, consider delving into the exciting world of web development — where code transforms into captivating creations, and the possibilities are boundless.

*Remember, every website you visit, every app you use, and every digital experience you encounter is a masterpiece crafted by the hands of web developers — the architects of our connected world.*

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