earth made of glass

Notice that the Internet and the computers that it serves are actually made of the materials of the earth. They’re largely metals: silicon, glass, copper, gold, and silver – these are the products of demonic artifice. These are the things that the alchemists dreamed of. They transform space and time, they allow us to speak at a distance, and they allow us to wander through libraries thousands of miles distant. They make it so that no fact is too obscure and no person so hidden that you can’t reach them.
—  Terence Mckenna
Full Esquire Interview - CHRIS EVANS IS READY TO FIGHT



The Canadian commandos are the first to jump. Our plane reaches an altitude of about eight thousand feet; the back door opens. Although it’s a warm winter day below in rural southern California, up here, not so much. In whooshes freezing air and the cold reality that this is actually happening. Out drop the eight commandos, all in black-and-red camouflage, one after the other. For them it’s a training exercise, and Jesus, these crazy bastards are stoked. The last Canuck to exit into the nothingness is a freakishly tall stud with a crew cut and a handlebar mustache; just before he leaps, he flashes a smile our way. Yeah, yeah, we get it: You’re a badass.

Moments later, the plane’s at ten thousand feet, and the next to go are a Middle Eastern couple in their late thirties. These two can’t wait. They are ecstatic. Skydiving is clearly a thing for them. Why? I can’t help thinking. Is it like foreplay? Do they rush off to the car after landing and get it on in the parking lot? They give us the thumbs-up and they’re gone.

Just like that, we’re at 12,500 feet and it’s our turn. Me and Chris Evans, recognized throughout the universe as the star of the Marvel-comic-book-inspired Captain America and Avengers movies. The five films in the series, which began in 2011 with Captain America: The First Avenger, have grossed more than $4 billion.

The two of us, plus four crew members, are the only ones left in the back of the plane. Over the loud drone of the twin propellers, one of the crew members shouts, "Okay, who’s going first?”

Evans and I are seated on benches opposite each other. Neither of us answers. I look at him; he looks at me. I feel like I’ve swallowed a live rat. Evans is over there, all Captain America cool, smiling away.

While we were waiting to board the plane, Evans told me that as he lay in bed the night before, “I started exploring the sensation of ‘What if the chute doesn’t open?’. . .”

Oh, did you now?

“. . .Those last minutes where you know.” As in you know you’re going to fatally splat. “You’re not gonna pass out; you’re gonna be wide awake. So what? Do I close my eyes? Hopefully, it would be quick. Lights out. I fucking hope it would be quick. And then I was like, if you’re gonna do it, let’s just pretend there is no way this is going to go wrong. Just really embrace it and jump out of that plane with gusto.” Evans also shared that he’d looked up the rate of skydiving fatalities. “It’s, like, 0.006 fatalities per one thousand jumps. So I figure our odds are pretty good.”

Again the crew member shouts, “Who’s going first?”

Again I look at Evans; again he looks at me. The rat is running circles in my belly.

I look at Evans; he looks at me.

Another crew member asks, “So whose idea was this, anyway?”

That’s an excellent question.

I ask Evans the same thing when we first meet, the evening before our jump, at his house. He lives atop the Hollywood Hills, in a modern-contemporary ranch in the center of a Japanese-style garden. The place has the vibe of an L.A. meditation retreat—there’s even a little Buddha statue on the front step.

The dude who opens the front door is in jeans, a T-shirt, and Nikes; he has on a black ball cap with the NASA logo, and his beard is substantial enough that for a second it’s hard to be sure this is the same guy who plays the baby-faced superhero. Our handshake in the doorway is interrupted when his dog rockets toward my crotch. Evans is sorry about that.

We do the small-talk thing. Evans is from a suburb of Boston, one of four kids raised by Dad, a dentist, and Mom, who ran a community theater. The point is, he’s a Patriots fan, and with Super Bowl LI, between the Pats and the Falcons, just a few days away at the time, it’s about the only thing on his mind. You bet your Sam Adams–guzzling ass he’s going to the game in Houston. “Oh my God,” he says, doing a little dance. “I can’t believe it’s this weekend.”

Like any self-respecting Pats fan, Evans is super-wicked pissed at NFL commissioner Roger Goodell.

Evans won’t be rolling to SB LI with a posse of Beantown-to-Hollywood A-listers like Mark Wahlberg, Matt Damon, and Ben Affleck. For the record, he’s never met Damon, and his only interaction with Wahlberg was a couple years ago at a Patriots event. Evans has, however, humiliated himself in front of Affleck.

Around 2006, Evans met with Affleck to talk about Gone Baby Gone, which Affleck was directing. Evans was walking down a hallway, looking for the room where they were supposed to meet. Walking by an open office, he heard Affleck, in that thick Boston accent of his, shout, “There he is!” (Evans does a perfect Affleck impersonation.)

By then, Evans had hit the big time for his turn as the Human Torch, Johnny Storm, in 2005’s Fantastic Four, but he still got starstruck. As he tells it, “First thing I say to him: 'Am I going to be okay where I parked?’ He was like, 'Where did you park?’ I said, 'At a meter.’ And he was like, 'Did you put money in the meter?’ And I said, 'Yep.’ And he says, 'Well, I think you’ll be okay.’ I was like, this is off to a great fucking start.” Stating the obvious here: Evans did not get the part.

No, Evans will be heading to the Super Bowl with his brother and three of his closest buddies. Like any self-respecting Pats fan, Evans is super-wicked pissed at NFL commissioner Roger Goodell for imposing that suspension on Tom Brady for Deflategate. Grabbing two beers from a fridge that’s otherwise basically empty, Evans says, “I just want to see Goodell hand the trophy to Brady. Goodell. Piece of shit.”

In Evans’s living room, there’s not a single hint of his Captain Americaness. Earth tones, tables that appear to be made of reclaimed wood. Open. Uncluttered. Glass doors open onto a backyard with a stunning view of the Hills. Evans stretches out on one of two couches. I take the other and ask, “Just whose idea was it to jump?” Since we both know whose idea it wasn’t, we both know that what I’m really asking is Why? Why, dude, do you want to jump (with me) from a goddamn airplane? “Yeah,” he says, popping open his beer, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Settling in on the couch, he groans. Evans explains that he’s hurting all over because he just started his workout routine the day before to get in shape for the next two Captain America films. The movies will be shot back to back beginning in April. After that, no more red- white-and-blue costume for the thirty-five-year-old. He will have fulfilled his contract.

“Yeah,” he says, popping open his beer, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Back in 2010, Marvel presented Evans with a nine-picture deal. He insisted he’d sign on for no more than six. Some family members thought he was nuts to dial back such a secure and lucrative gig. Evans saw it differently.

It takes five months to shoot a Marvel movie, and when you tack on the promotional obligations for each one, well, shit, man. Evans knew that for as long as he was bound to Captain America, he would have little time to take on other projects. He wanted to direct, he wanted to play other characters—roles that were more human—like the lead in Gifted, which will hit theaters this month. The script had brought him to tears. Evans managed to squeeze the movie in between Captain America and Avengers films.

FOX Searchlight

In Gifted, Evans stars as Frank Adler. You don’t get much more human than Adler, a grease-under-his-nails boat-engine mechanic living the bachelor life in Florida. After a series of tragic circumstances, Adler becomes a surrogate father to his niece, Mary, a first-grader with the IQ of Einstein. He recognizes that Mary is a little genius, and he does his best to prevent anyone else from noticing. Given the aforementioned circumstances, Adler has witnessed what can happen when a kid with a brilliant mind is pushed too hard too quickly. Then along comes Mary’s teacher. She discovers the child’s gift, and a Kramer vs. Kramer–esque drama ensues.

During a moment in the film when things aren’t going Adler’s way, he sarcastically refers to himself as a “fucking hero.” Evans says the line didn’t lead him to make comparisons between superhero Steve Rogers (aka Captain America) and Everyman hero Frank Adler. But now that you mention it . . . 

“With Steve Rogers,” Evans says, “even though you’re on a giant movie with a huge budget and strange costumes, you’re still on a hunt for the truth of the character.” That said, “with Adler, it’s nice to play someone relatable. I think Julianne Moore said, 'The audience doesn’t come to see you; they come to see themselves.’ Adler is someone you can hold up as a mirror for someone in the audience. They’ll be able to far more easily identify with Frank Adler than Steve Rogers.”

Dodger. That’s the name of Evans’s dog, the one who headbutted my nuts and has since done a marvelous job of making amends by nuzzling against me on the couch. Evans got him while he was filming Gifted; one of the last scenes was shot in an animal shelter in Georgia. Evans had wanted a dog ever since his last pooch died in 2012. Then he found himself walking the aisles of this pound, and there was this mixed-breed boxer, wagging his tail and looking like he belonged with Evans.

Dodger is not exactly a name you’d think a die-hard Boston sports fan would pick. His boys from back home have given him a ton of shit over it. But he has not abandoned his Red Sox for the L.A. team. As a kid, he loved the Disney animated movie Oliver & Company, and his favorite character was Dodger. Anticipating the grief he was going to get from his pals, Evans considered other names. “You could name your dog Doorknob,” he says, “and in a month he’s fucking Doorknob.” Evans’s mom convinced him to go with his gut.

Right around when Evans was wrapping Gifted and heading back to L.A. with Dodger, the 2016 presidential campaign was still in that phase when no one, including the actor—a Hillary Clinton supporter—thought Trump had a shot. He still can’t believe Trump won.

“I feel rage,” he says. “I feel fury. It’s unbelievable. People were just so desperate to hear someone say that someone is to blame. They were just so happy to hear that someone was angry. Hear someone say that Washington sucks. They just want something new without actually understanding. I mean, guys like Steve Bannon—Steve Bannon!—this man has no place in politics.”

Evans has made, and continues to make, his political views known on Twitter. He tweeted that Trump ought to “stop energizing lies,” and he recently ended up in a heated Twitter debate with former KKK leader David Duke over Trump’s pick of Jeff Sessions for attorney general. Duke baselessly accused Evans of being anti-Semitic; Evans encouraged Duke to try love: “It’s stronger than hate. It unites us. I promise it’s in you under the anger and fear.” Making political statements and engaging in such public exchanges is a rather risky thing for the star of Captain America to do. Yes, advisors have said as much to him. “Look, I’m in a business where you’ve got to sell tickets,” he says. “But, my God, I would not be able to look at myself in the mirror if I felt strongly about something and didn’t speak up. I think it’s about how you speak up. We’re allowed to disagree. If I state my case and people don’t want to go see my movies as a result, I’m okay with that.”

Trump. Bannon. Politics. Now Evans is animated. He gets off the couch, walks out onto his porch, and lights a cigarette. “Some people say, 'Don’t you see what’s happening? It’s time to yell,' ” Evans says. “Yeah, I see it, and it’s time for calm. Because not everyone who voted for Trump is going to be some horrible bigot. There are a lot of people in that middle; those are the people you can’t lose your credibility with. If you’re trying to change minds, by spewing too much rhetoric you can easily become white noise.”

Evans has a pretty remarkable “How I got to Hollywood” story.

During his junior year of high school, he knew he wanted to act. He was doing it a lot. In school. At his mom’s theater. He loved it. “When you’re doing a play at thirteen years old and have opening night? None of my friends had opening nights. 'I can’t have a sleepover, guys; I have an opening night tonight.' ”

That same year, he did a two-man play. For all of the twenty-plus plays Evans had done up to that point, preparation meant going home, memorizing lines, and doing a few run-throughs with the cast. However, for this play, Fallen Star, he and his costar would rehearse by running dialogue with each other. Hour upon hour, night after night.

Fallen Star is about two friends, one of whom has just died. As the play opens, one of the characters comes home after the funeral to find his dead friend’s ghost. Evans was the ghost. Waiting backstage on opening night, he knew he didn’t have every line memorized, but he had the essence and emotion of the play down. Onstage, he remembers, “I was saying the lines not because they were memorized but because the play was in me. I was believing what I was saying.”

He was hooked. He wanted to do more of this kind of acting—real acting. He wanted to do films, in which the camera was right on him and he could just be the character, rather than theater, in which an actor must perform to the back of the room.

A family friend who was a television actor advised Evans that if he wanted to go to Hollywood, he needed an agent. Toward the end of his junior year, he had a ballsy request for his parents: If he found an internship with a casting agent in New York City, would they allow him to live there and cover the rent? They agreed. Evans landed a gig with Bonnie Finnegan, who was then working on the television show Spin City.

“I just fucked off. I lost my virginity that year. 1999 was one of the best years of my life.” Until it wasn’t.

Evans chose to intern with a casting agent because he figured he had more of a chance to interact with other agents trying to get auditions for their clients.

The kid was sixteen years old.

Finnegan put Evans on the phone; his responsibilities included setting up appointments for auditions. By the end of the summer, he picked the three agents he had the best rapport with and asked each of them to give him a five-minute audition. All three said yes. After seeing his audition, all three were interested.

Evans went with the one Finnegan recommended, Bret Adams, who told Evans to return to New York for auditions in January, television pilot season. Back home, Evans doubled up on a few classes the first semester of his senior year, graduated early, and went back to New York in January. He got the same shithole apartment in Brooklyn and the same internship with Finnegan. He landed a part on the pilot Opposite Sex. Even better, the show got picked up and would start shooting in L.A. that fall.

“I know I’m going to L.A. in August,” Evans says, recalling that period. “So I go home and that spring I would wake up around noon, saunter into high school just to see my buddies, and we’d go get high in the parking lot. I just fucked off. I lost my virginity that year. 1999 was one of the best years of my life.” Until it wasn’t.

He wasn’t in L.A. for even a month when he got a call from home. His parents were divorcing. Evans never saw it coming.

Family and love and the struggles therein are part of what attracted Evans to Gifted.

“In my own life, I have a deep connection with my family and the value of those bonds,” he says. “I’ve always loved stories about people who put their families before themselves. It’s such a noble endeavor. You can’t choose your family, as opposed to friends. Especially in L.A. You really get to see how friendships are put to the test; it stirs everyone’s egos. But if something goes south with a friend, you have the option to say we’re not friends anymore. Your family—that’s your family. Trying to make that system work and trying to make it not just functional but actually enjoyable is a really challenging endeavor, and that’s certainly how it is with my family.”

the plane, a decision is made.

“I want to see you jump first,” Evans shouts my way.

Of course he does.

Like any respectable and legal skydiving center, Skydive Perris, which is providing us with this “experience,” doesn’t just strap a chute on your back. First, you go to a room for a period of instruction. Then you go to another room, where you sign away your rights.

You may be wondering how the star of a billion-dollar franchise with two pictures to shoot gets clearance to jump from an airplane—never mind the low rate of fatalities, as Evans has presented it. So am I.

“Well, they give you all these crazy insurance policies, but even if I die, what are they going to do? Sue my family? They’d probably cast some new guy at a cheaper price and save some money.”

Thinking the answer is almost certainly going to be no, I ask Evans if he’s ever gone skydiving before. Turns out he has, with an ex-girlfriend. Turns out that ex-girlfriend is now married to Justin Timberlake. Evans and Jessica Biel dated off and on from 2001 to 2006. They took the leap together when Biel hatched the idea for one Valentine’s Day. According to media accounts, Evans was recently dating his Gifted costar Jenny Slate, who plays the teacher. “Yeah,” he says, “but I’m steering clear of those questions.” You can almost feel his heart pinch.

“There’s a certain shared life experience that is tough for someone else who’s not in this industry to kind of wrap their head around.”

We end up broadly discussing the unique challenges an international star like Evans faces when it comes to dating, specifically the trust factor. Evans supposes that’s why so many actors date other actors: “There’s a certain shared life experience that is tough for someone else who’s not in this industry to kind of wrap their head around,” he says. “Letting someone go to work with someone for three months and they won’t see them. It really, it certainly puts the relationship to the test.”

In Gifted, there’s a moment when Slate’s character asks Adler what his greatest fear is. Frank Adler’s greatest fear is that he’ll ruin his niece’s life. Evans’s greatest fear is having regrets.

“Like always kind of wanting to be there as opposed to here. I think I’m worried all of a sudden I’ll get old and have regrets, realize that I’ve not cultivated enough of an appreciation for the now and surrendering to the present moment.”

Evans’s musings have something to do with the fact that he has been reading The Surrender Experiment. “It’s about the basic notion that we are only in a good mood when things are going our way,” he says. “The truth is, life is going to unfold as it’s going to unfold regardless of your input. If you are an active participant in that awareness, life kind of washes over you, good or bad. You kind of become Teflon a little bit to the struggles that we self-inflict.”

He continues: “Our conscious minds are very spread out. We worry about the past. We worry about the future. We label. And all of that stuff just makes us very separate. What I’m trying to do is just quiet it down. Put that brain down from time to time and hope those periods of quiet and stillness get longer. When you do that, what rises from the mist is a kind of surrendering. You’re more connected as opposed to being separate. A lot of the questions about destiny or fate or purpose or any of that stuff—it’s not like you get answers. You just realize you didn’t need the questions.”

This here—this stuff about surrendering, letting life unfold, taking the leap—this is why he wanted to go skydiving. It’s why that sixteen-year-old took the leap and did the summer in New York; it’s why he took the leap and turned down the nine-picture deal; it’s why he got Dodger. Surrender. Take the leap.

And so I go first.

Oh, one important detail: Novice jumpers like Evans and me, we don’t jump solo. Thank God. Each of us is doing a tandem jump. Each of us is strapped with our back to a professional jumper’s front. I’m strapped to a forty-four-year-old dude named Paul. Considering what’s about to happen, I figure I should know a little something about Paul. He tells me he used to own a bar in Chicago. Evans is strapped to a young woman named Sam, who looks to be twenty-something. She’s got a purplish-pink streak in her black hair and says things like “badass.” In fact, Sam introduced herself  by saying, “I’m Sam, but you can call me Badass.”

At the plane’s open door, my mind goes to my wife and two teenage sons, to those I love, and to the texts I just sent in case my chute fails. Then Paul and I—well, really mostly Paul—rock gently back and forth to build momentum to push away from the plane, to push away from all that seems sane.




Holy fuck.

HOLY FUCK. This is what I scream as we free-fall from 12,500 feet, at more than a hundred miles an hour, toward the earth. Which I cannot take my eyes off of. I think about nothing. Not living. Not dying. Nothing. I simply feel . . . I have let go.

Suddenly, it all stops. I’m jerked up. Paul has pulled the chute, and it does indeed open. This is fantastic, because it means we have a much better chance of not dying. But it’s also kind of a bummer. I had let go. Of everything. I had chosen to play those odds Evans had talked about. I had embraced jumping and letting life unfold.

Now I had been jerked back. I would land. Back on the earth I had been so high above and from which I had been so far removed. Back in all of it.

Once I’m on the ground, safe and in one piece, a staffer runs over and asks how I feel. I say, “I feel like Captain America.”

The staffer runs over and asks Evans the same question. He says he feels great. Then he’s asked another question: What was your favorite part?

“Jumping out,” he says. “Jumping out is always a real thrill.”

This article appears in the April '17 issue of Esquire.

And now I wish to God thatThe earth would turn coldAnd my heart would forget it's made of glass


- A Charlatan/Reyes Vidal Fanmix-

A fanmix put together for what I personally feel represents the man known as both the Charlatan and Reyes Vidal.
The ‘Reyes Vidal’ Section is mostly based on me and @stellarisjay​ ‘s many conversations on our own headcanons regarding Reyes’ past in the Milky Way. Also for the impromptu and unofficial ARTISTS ANONYMOUS FANMIX WEEK <3 

Listen here on [Spotify!]  |  Cover Art by [me] | Tracklist & lyrics under cut:
Disclaimer: Songs picked are simply my own opinion and certainly do not speak for the fandom at all.

Keep reading

An Altar For What I’m Calling Fishcraft

I’ve had a growing amount of fishkeeping witches come to me lately, and many fishkeepers coming into witchcraft because of my blog as well. This has overall inspired me to create something entirely new, and I can assure you all that there are many more posts on this to come.

This one, however, is on making an altar or shrine for, that’s right, your fish. First and foremost, you should be familiar with the difference between a shrine and altar:

  • A shrine is a dedicated space, mostly decoration and offerings, but not a workspace for spells and such.
  • An altar is still a dedicated space, but includes the space for spells and divination and so on.

The next step is deciding who or what it’s devoted to. If you have a deity or entity (like the Goddess, Shinto water kami Suijin, Poseidon, fae or dragons or another spirit friend or icon, etc), you’ll want to have some sort of representation of them, and then from there add the fishy-ness.
If you’re like me and are more secular, you can dedicate it to your fish or the spirit(s) of fish passed.
Then, why you’re devoting it. It can be more than one reason, but it’s good to know. Are you just honoring your fish? Are you asking for additional aid in the health and happiness of your tank? If you’re placing the tank on the table, is it a pedestal for your fish or a mutual companion you’re sharing with your deity or entity? Be creative and do what’s comfortable for you.

Once you have that figured out, setting it up is the next big deal! The most important thing here is to make sure it makes you happy. If there’s something there that you don’t like the look of, get rid of it. Make it yours, and if you have a deity or entity, make it what you feel they would adore as well. On that note, I’m not going to say anything specific as to what to put or where or how. But some ideas include:

  • In place of an athame: Your aquascaping scissors/tweezers.
  • In place of a wand: A piece of driftwood
  • In place of a cauldron: That glass bowl your fish used to live in before you knew better (must be glass for fire safety).
  • Or use the bowl for offerings
  • Add anything you want to put in your actual tank but it isn’t aquarium safe (stones, toys, dishes, that cool piece of unsafe decor you got from walmart)
  • That semi-aquatic plant you thought was pretty (ie Mondo grass, peacock fern, etc)
  • Marimo jars
  • Any fishy paraphernalia you have with no true place for
  • A bowl or jar of aquarium salt or substrate for earth representation
  • Runes made from glass pebbles or river stones
  • And again, literally anything else you like

And so on! Other options for the altar itself include:

  • Setting it all up INSIDE a tank or bowl, without the hassle of water! Like a “dream tank” that won’t harm anyone! (an excellent option for someone who can’t afford an actual setup and/or time for fish, especially since 10 gallon tanks are pretty cheap if you don’t want the rest of the setup)
  • OR fill it with water and use floating candles for your worship work (not recommended for a tank with fish residing inside it, but might be safe for all those pest snails you don’t have the heart to throw away but don’t want in your actual tank).

If you choose to have your in use fish tank on your altar or shrine, just remember that your fish still depends on you to remain in good health. Sacrificing proper care for a living creature that you’re supposed to be honoring makes for some pretty bad luck.

On that note, for those who don’t know- there is no living animal you can keep in a bowl! Especially goldfish but it’s cruel for even a betta. 2.5 gallons with a heater is recommended! Research is encouraged, but I’m always happy to help!

I hope this was an exciting article for many people, enjoy!

~Emylie of Witchyfishyfun

Paint the Town Green

Read HERE on AO3

Pidge sat at the kitchen counter gingerly fingering the photo in her hands. The photo from when things were okay, when her family was whole, when no one was lost in space. It had once given her hope, but as weeks crawled past and turned to months, it had become a painful reminder of the loss. Idly, she flicked a torn edge between her fingers. 

It was torn just like their team, when Shiro had disappeared, leaving them all in shock. She remembered the pure agony etched across Keith’s face when the team had entered the empty cockpit of the Black Lion. Allura’s stunned silence, and the sense of dread in the air. The way her stomach sank to her feet at the idea of losing someone else.

But that wasn’t what had brought her to the kitchen at one in the morning. No, she hadn’t gotten over it all yet, but what was crawling inside of her at that moment like a writhing worm was sadness.

It was Matt’s birthday.

At least, if she’d done the calculations right. 

And here she was. Just like on the day of the announcement of the failure of the Kerberos mission, and when Matt’s birthday had come to pass in the year that followed, she sat in silence. She thought of her mother, millions of miles away, doing the same. Pidge wondered if Matt knew it was his birthday, wherever he was. She dragged a hand across her face, wiping away the moisture there (not that anyone would see, she was alone, and the kitchen was only partially lit) before it could join the dried stains on her face. The lump in her throat felt like a tight knot. She let out a deep breath, along with some of her tension, just as the door hissed open behind her. Her chair squeaked as she whirled around to see who dared interrupt her wallowing.

It was Keith. His shirt was drenched in sweat from one of his late night training sessions, and his gaze met hers for only a moment before he turned his attention away and quietly headed for the cupboards. Pidge was grateful for his silence, not really caring if it was out of courtesy for her or just Keith being Keith. She still scolded herself for forgetting the team’s habits, though; she should’ve gone to the stardeck. That was a much more suitable place to have a late-night cry than the center of activity that was the kitchen.

Still, she scowled at him as she watched him, covering her nose with her sleeve and wishing for a tissue. Keith, at least, seemed content to let her be as he filled a cup at the refrigerator. Oddly enough, the Altean variant took just as long to fill a sixteen ounce glass with water as its Earth counterpart. She made a mental note to fix that at some point, and tucked her photo into her sleeve as Keith turned around to lean against the cold steel of the fridge to drink. She noticed his gaze flick to her hands at the movement before he focused on a point on the wall. Pidge folded her arms and rested her head on them, her own attention focused on the grease beneath her fingernails. There was a part of her that wanted to jump up and run out of the room, but something kept her rooted. She wondered if she was getting tired.

It wasn’t until Keith moved that she looked up again, just in time to see the plastic cup go sailing through the air. It clattered to a stop in the sink-like basin at the other end of the room, disrupting the peaceable silence. Pidge’s scowl deepened at Keith over the sleeves of her hoodie, but his expression was unreadable. She didn’t know what irked her more, the noise or his lack of response. Keith normally liked the quiet as much as she did – if not moreso; what was he up to?

Then suddenly Keith was moving; he stepped away from the fridge and crossed the room, heading towards her. She watched him approach with mild apprehension, arching a brow out of curiosity when he stopped in front of her, hands wrapped around the edge of the countertop. She waited a beat for him to do something. If it weren’t for the pensive look on his face, she would have thought he was half asleep. It broke a moment later when his gaze slid down to her calmly.

“I want to show you something,” he said coolly.

Oh? She had wanted to go back to her room and wrap up in a blanket, but Keith’s cryptic request piqued her interest. Pidge slid out of her chair and silently followed Keith out of the kitchen and through the winding corridors of the Castle. After a while they slipped through a doorway, and into the yawning chamber of the Lions’ hangars. Pidge wondered why they hadn’t just taken the zip-line tunnels.

The Lions sat peacefully in their respective bays, and Pidge jogged over to Green, placing a small hand on the robot’s paw with a gentle smile. Despite the cool bite of the metal, touching her Lion always filled her with with a comforting sense of warmth, a warmth that was more than welcome at that moment. Keith passed by her then, and she turned away from her robot, wanting to know why he had brought her here, of all places.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to ask.

“Meet me outside.” Keith nodded to her as he walked toward his Lion.

Pidge nodded and pressed her hand back against Green’s paw, asking to go inside. A rush of warmth flooded her for a moment. Green lowered its head, jaw lowering to let her in. She jogged up the slope to the cockpit, sliding into the pilot’s chair with a sigh. The dark glass panes cleared to show her the hangar, and Green’s system data lit up the familiar electric green interface. 

Pidge turned her attention to the Red Lion, aglow and ready for takeoff. It stood pensively, head angled toward her in waiting as she brought Green alongside Red. The smaller Lion nodding its head as if to say ‘here we go’ just before launching into the expanse of space. Pidge followed quickly, inviting the distant starlight into Green’s cockpit with a smile. They soon left the castle-ship behind them, and the Lions enjoyed the liberty of open space, ducking and twisting playfully in the star-spangled darkness.

Just as Pidge began to wonder how far out they were, Keith peeled off to the right, headed towards a large green mass in the distance. Slowing as they approached, Keith lead her in a wide arc around the faintly glowing cloud. It was massive, whatever it was, and glittered softly like powdery snow on a sunny day. Her observations were cut short, however, when the Red Lion suddenly ducked into the cloud, disappearing from view.

Alarmed, Pidge flew to where Red had been and peered into the green gas. Ripples spread across the surface from the disturbance, but the Red Lion remained invisible. Shadows and pockets of denser gas swirled inside, obscuring even the bright lights of Green’s eyes. The green gas frantically billowed without warning as the Red Lion burst from inside the green cloud, coated in a layer of fine green dust. Pidge heard herself shriek in surprise at its appearance and a hand flew to her mouth in embarrassment.

Keith’s laughter spilled through her cockpit’s intercom and she pouted, mildly annoyed.  Her mouth quickly morphed into a grin, however, as an idea formed in her mind. Pidge flew the Green Lion down to the surface of the green mass, hovering gently in front of the Red Lion. She then plunged Green’s claws into the rippling dust, splashing a wave of the gas onto Red. Hearing Keith’s yelp of surprise brought a smile to her face.

As the dust settled back into the cloud, it slipped off the Red Lion like water, leaving behind another layer of the fine particles. Keith’s lion now sported an odd mix of red and green, and Pidge couldn’t help but laugh a little at its coloration. Keith’s response was to dip Red back into the murky cloud, popping back out a moment later to shower the Green Lion in a cascade of glittering dust. He laughed when Pidge swung Green’s head around to glare at him, retaliating with a swish of her Lion’s tail. It sent up a spray of green gas, further coating Red, which at this point looked more green than its given color. They both laughed, Lions swimming playfully through the water-like green cloud. Soon, both the Lions were covered in the fine green dust, their Paladins long since fallen into a fit of laughter at the sight.


It was late into the Castle’s night cycle when the Green and Red Lions returned to their hangars, dripping dense green gas that pooled at their feet. Pidge rose from her chair, giving the dashboard a soft pat of affection, as Green powered down. She contentedly made her way down to the hangar floor to meet Keith. At Red’s feet, he stood with his eyes closed and a hand on the Lion’s paw. When he turned to look at Pidge, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Keith stood stunned for a moment before gently reciprocating the gesture.

“You’re welcome, Katie.”

Lithium-ion battery inventor introduces new technology for fast-charging, noncombustible batteries

A team of engineers led by 94-year-old John Goodenough, professor in the Cockrell School of Engineering at The University of Texas at Austin and co-inventor of the lithium-ion battery, has developed the first all-solid-state battery cells that could lead to safer, faster-charging, longer-lasting rechargeable batteries for handheld mobile devices, electric cars and stationary energy storage.

Goodenough’s latest breakthrough, completed with Cockrell School senior research fellow Maria Helena Braga, is a low-cost all-solid-state battery that is noncombustible and has a long cycle life (battery life) with a high volumetric energy density and fast rates of charge and discharge. The engineers describe their new technology in a recent paper published in the journal Energy & Environmental Science.

“Cost, safety, energy density, rates of charge and discharge and cycle life are critical for battery-driven cars to be more widely adopted. We believe our discovery solves many of the problems that are inherent in today’s batteries,” Goodenough said.

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You are challenged by Team Science Director Julie!

(Am I late to the Team Science train? I’m probably late.)

Anyways, the @scientificpokedex had a super cool design for Director Julie, and I had to draw it. A space lab coat? That’s awesome! 

Ted Really Wants Someone To Own Up To What They Did

The first quote is from a work of a Shakespeare called The Rape Of Lucerne. In the work, Lucerne is violated sexually. She feels shame and kills herself. Her father declares revenge on the person responsible. To me this could be a parallel to my theory of Ted being Bethany’s father whom is looking for revenge from the events of “that night” An eye for an eye, he wants the guilty persons to know he is aware and coming.

The second sign “Commit a crime and the earth is made of glass.  Commit a crime and it seems as though a coat of snow fell on the ground” reminds me a bit of the preview with the shattered glass, but this seems like Ted is aware again of someone doing something and wants he/she/them to know he is watching and that their facade will come crashing down when the truth comes out.

The sign at Christmas said “Happy Birthday Jesus” which was as normal and non-ominous. Coincidentally, Ted was “out of town” for the three months following Mona’s death. The day he came back, so did A. (broke into Holbrook’s office and took out his butterscotch candy….have the sweets did you A?)

Little doodle cause I felt like Phil was missing out on the light up shoes party!

How to write a thing you dont want to write

You know how terrible outlines are? or essays? Or the mythology of a story in which you’re never going to outright create a lore anthology of? Well if you dont want to write something because it’s dull and uninteresting to you or you think outlines are going to make you tired of the story, do not fret. I have come to introduce you to a new version of the idea of a ROUGH DRAFT. And yeah, I know how terrible rough drafts are, I absolutely abhor them, but I have learned the secret to not only write one, but to be able to stand rereading it. 

Okay you fuckers here goes:

Originally posted by drunkbroadway

Swear. Just fucking do it. I mean, seriously, we all love swearing. If you add one or 2 curse words to every line, it becomes so much more fun and so much more rewarding. I actually type a shit ton faster when Im swearing, Im actually doing it right the fuck now and yeah sure the extra words slow you down a fuckton but the fact that your writing so much shit your ass is imploding more than makes up for that shit. I mean holy fuck I wrote all this in under a goddamn minute. When you reread it, you might laugh, you might actually enjoy reading it, fuck you might even read it out loud to your friends because it’s so silly. 

Originally posted by allie-rva

Dont think just purge. You’ve got an idea to write down, you have to get it down. If you stop writing you’ll forget. Write a thing and since you’re already swearing it will make your fingers keep going and they have to have something to type or it will cjdsvhlfgehffvsvj ofi jfdhfjhd g reg  all over yourself (oh hey greg). So write as fast as you can and get the ideas down, they may not be in order because you wrote a thing and it inspired a whole bunch of things that caused said thing and you dont have time to scroll up because you are writing so dang didly fast. 

Originally posted by heckyeahreactiongifs

Dont stop. Dont go on tumblr, dont check your phone. Your story or whatever the fuck you’re writing is a fucking mudwasp and its going to go bite every child unless you leash it down to paper. You’ve got a shitton of ideas right? You dont want to lose them. Every second you stare at something else is another minute it will take to get back into the zone. 

Originally posted by siempresarcastico

Stop Dont force yourself. If you have written down everything you know, everything you can think of, you’re already doing great. You can write the next draft (or the final draft if its a school essay) up until the part that you stopped in your outline/rough draft. The writing you’ve done has maybe foreshadowed something that will happen later, or will remind you of some fact you need in your academic paper. Use that to return to your shitstorm of a draft and vomit all the information you possibly can. 

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

Yeah, fuck, I know. But you know what? Finishing it is so fucking good. it just feels like such a massive accomplishment. Remember, you chose this topic, you need to know your world is shaped the way it is, you want to figure out what happens next in your story. Its a valuable tool and it’s going to help you get the story or essay or whatever done. Dont give up. 

An example of one of my drafts is below as an example:

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The New Cool'eh Issue is Out

This issue COOL’EH gives the concept of Audio-Visual a generous stretching, followed by a vigorous workout. Artist Hollis Brown Thornton repurposes your 80’s media for and the results are enough to make us nostalgic for double reverse tapedecks and home-copied VHS tapes.

The magazine interviewed Mississippi Damned director Tina Mabry about her arresting debut film and do their best to parse truth from half-truth in the bold Rwandan Genocide documentary Earth Made Of Glass. Sticking with the docs, several Seattle Supersonics fans get together to expose the conspiracy that robbed Seattle of it’s basketball team, and with the now-Oklahoma Thunder in the Western Conference. Just after Finals, it couldn’t be timelier.

The issue also ponders the inability of Hollywood to make romantic comedies for the thinking woman. Interesting. 

Let’s see what else? There’s the best rap videos of 1999. Then there’s M.I.A. collaborator Blaqstarr, who gets in the recording booth and talks existential vibrations. Graphic novelist Joshua Dysart talks shop and explains how he ended up making a comic book about the Ugandan civil war. Read this and more at Cool'eh Magazine, new issue out now.

(Artist Hollis Brown Thornton repurposes 80’s Media)