this is now on a stamp

independent.co.uk
Donald Trump: World-renowned primatologist Jane Goodall likens US President to a chimpanzee
'To impress rivals, males seeking to rise in the dominance hierarchy perform spectacular displays: Stamping, slapping the ground, dragging branches, throwing rocks,' says prominent conservationist

World-renowned primatologist Dame Jane Goodall has likened Donald Trump’s behavior to that of a chimpanzee.

The British conservationist first gained international recognition for studying chimps in what is now Tanzania and has studied the primates for more than 50 years.

“In many ways, the performances of Donald Trump remind me of male chimpanzees and their dominance rituals,” she told The Atlantic during the 2016 presidential election.Jane Goodall preaches conservation in response to Ivanka book quote

“to impress rivals, males seeking to rise in the dominance hierarchy perform spectacular displays: Stamping, slapping the ground, dragging branches, throwing rocks.“

A more aggressive display was likely to lead the male to higher positions in the hierarchy and allow it to maintain its status for longer, she said.

Mr. Trump’s election campaign was littered with bombastic statements, and since becoming President, he has issued increasingly aggressive threats towards North Korea.

In his first address to the UN General Assembly, he said the US may have no choice but to "utterly destroy” North Korea.

Dame Jane’s analysis of Mr Trump’s behaviour has since been echoed by prominent psychologist Professor Dan P McAdams.

Describing what he called a male chimpanzee’s “charging display” in an article in The Guardian, Professor Adams, of Northwestern University, said: “The top man mostly goes berserk and starts screaming, hooting, and gesticulating wildly as he charges toward other males nearby.”

He added: “Trump’s incendiary tweets are the human equivalent of a charging display: Designed to intimidate his foes and rally his submissive base, these verbal outbursts reinforce the President’s dominance by reminding everybody of his wrath and his force.”

Dame Goodall has previously condemned the Republican President’s plans to scrap key US climate change policies as “incredibly depressing”.

Mr Trump resolved to take America out of the Paris climate change agreement, although in recent months has appeared to soften on the issue.

“There’s no way we can say climate change isn’t happening: it’s happened,” Dame Jane said in March during her first trip to the US since the election.


“There is definitely a feeling of gloom and doom among all the people I know.


“If we allow this sense of doom and gloom to continue then it will be very, very bad, but my job is to give people hope, and I think one of the main concerns is the fact that people had woken up: people who were apathetic before or didn’t seem to care.”

asdfsadfhsadlfksadf why do people act as if taylor never got any hate before the kim snapchat scandal it’s so fuckign wild??????? have u forgotten when she was a literal teenage girl and you demons cyber bullied her for SMILING when she won awards?????? like before any of this happened she was a starry-eyed CHILD who was just genuinely excited about life and love and sharing her music with the world and u were all determined to stamp that joy out of her and now ur pissed off that it worked. god i have a headache ur all flesh eating SLUGS

A man enters an office supply store. He was a mere mortal seconds before, but as he passes through the door he becomes a customer. His superior gaze drifts across his domain and settles on the cashier. 

“Do you sell stamps?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say,” However-”

“I want one.”

However, we sell them only in sets of ten.”

“But I want one.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I can’t sell you a single stamp.”

“Can’t you just…” He (skillfully) mimicks the act of ripping apart paper. 

Clearly, I have never thought of this. My simple mind grapples with the idea. I realize I am dealing with a genius, and yet, I regretfully inform him, “Sorry. They come on stickersheets, and anyways, the barcode–”

“Well that’s just rubbish,” he informs me. He is right. I realize this now. His genius ignites a spark within me. 

“You are right,” I tell him as I take fifteen sheets of stamps into my hands and begin to tear them apart. I type 0,019 stamps and press a non-existent key on the register. I hold out a quarter of a stamp to the customer (with a smile), but he shakes his head (without a smile). I rip apart all the stamps I can find, desperate to please him, for he has gifted this humble store with his presence. From the pieces, I begin to assemble a perfect, custom-made stamp. It is worth exactly 66,66€. I single-handedly reprogramme not only my cash desk, but the entire system. It can now scan any stamp in (or out of) existence. It is raining stamps. I am smiling.

Two hours later, it is done. Beaming, and covered in the torn remains of hundreds of unfortunate stamps, I hold the perfect stamp out to The Customer. He accepts it. I rejoice. It might just be my high fever and blurry gaze, but I think the right corner of his mouth moved upwards for exactly half a second. I am blessed. 

He licks the stamp and slaps it onto a letter. He wants to lend a pen. I lend him a pen. When he is done, he holds the letter out to me expectantly. He does not say a word, my silent angel, but I can tell what he wants. Thus is our connection. There is nothing, I assure you, nothing I would have rather done than to accept his letter, on my knees, with tears of gratitude streaming down my cheeks… But alas: 

“I want to send the letter,” my dear customer finally says, after the silence has stretched into infinity and back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sir,” I say with a polite smile, brushing stamps off my shoulders, “We don’t accept mail. We only sell stamps.” 

After all, you can’t make exceptions to a well-established rule in the workplace. 

The customer doesn’t bat an eyelash. “That’s okay,” he says with a disarming smile. “I wouldn’t ask the impossible of you.” 

As he turns to walk away, a single tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe it off with a stamp that wears his majestic face, hand-stitched by me. 

I don’t tell him there’s a mailbox around the corner.

(That’s not my job.) 

2

From Entertainment Weekly: “Cassandra Clare’s City of Bones — the first installment in her riveting Mortal Instruments series — turns 10 this year. To commemorate this milestone, City of Bones is getting a stunning new anniversary edition, packed with brand new content. EW can reveal both the 10th anniversary cover (a cloth-over-board jacket with text and art stamped in foil) as well as six full-color character portraits that will appear in the new book. The book also features chapter header illustrations, black-and-white illustrations scattered throughout the book, and The Clave’s Confidential Files on our favorite characters, written by Clare herself. (top sekrit info on the characters, including birthdays, scars and major weaknesses ;) Check out the cover and the back, printed with the iconic ALL THE STORIES ARE TRUE. The 10th anniversary edition of City of Bones will be out Nov. 7, 2017, but is available for pre-order now.” Entertainment Weekly’s story is up along with a portrait of Jace: http://ew.com/books/2017/06/27/cassandra-clare-city-of-bones-anniversary-cover/

*Click lower image to see bigger version
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3

June 15, 2017

Jay Z updates his Twitter.

2017 Songwriters Hall of Fame. First rapper to be inducted!

All of those who have inspired him as he has inspired us.

The last tweet: Obama on Jay Z’s induction into the Songwriters Hall of Fame! Now what other rapper has the President’s praise and stamp of approval like this? Check out the video here.

huffingtonpost.com
Food Stamp Recipients Increasingly Are The Working Poor
New data challenges the stereotype that receiving food stamps discourages working.

I know it should be obvious to most of you by now, but people literally aren’t paid enough by their place of employment to feed themselves, which ends up being a drain on the government.

It is not the poor who are leeching off of the government, it is the wealthy elite getting away with fucking the poor over and forcing the government to pick up their slack.

every dollar a poor person gets in welfare benefits is just money their place of work should have already been giving them but don’t need to because they know they can give people piss poor wages and then leech the fuck off of the government.

I’ll say it again, poor people aren’t leeches on government funds, the wealthy elite are, and have always been.

5

I took some screenshots of some of the sexism and obsession with the appearance of the female commentators in the Overwatch World Cup. Women are just not taken seriously in this game, which is why every single team that’s played so far is 100% men. 

Good on Blizzard for making sure the analyst desk was 50/50 men/women, but now you need to do something about these people we play the game with, because playing with these sexist idiots is fucking exhausting and demoralizing. 

There MUST be a NO TOLERANCE policy for discrimination in the game. It’s the only way to stamp this crap out. 

Via Bob Lefsetz’s Newsletter (it comes through email but may get posted to lefsetz.com/Wordpress eventually)

————————————

Richard told me it was an UNDERPLAY!

I sauntered into the Palladium expecting attendance to be sparse and the people who were there to be kids. But the place was packed and those in attendance were way past puberty, not that there was not screaming involved, but average age was 19 or 20, what was happening here, weren’t teen phenoms supposed to be time-stamped, to have their era and then be done, like the Cassidy brothers, Bobby Sherman and New Kids On The Block?

But no, Niall Horan has a #2 record, soon to be #1, how did this happen?

The audience is in control. That’s what Barnett told me. Used to be radio was the arbiter. But now the public gets a voice. Turns out they’re still into 1D. And those streaming numbers force the hand of radio and other old line gatekeepers.

Not that the starmaker machinery is not involved.

That’s what people don’t buy, the same ones paying attention to the press and the scuttlebutt. Saying major labels are over, you can make it on your own and streaming is the devil. Did you read today’s RIAA report? Revenue is up 17%! A far cry from the last decade when it was all doom and gloom, and paid on demand streaming is 43% of the total, far outnumbering downloads and physical.

The future’s so bright you gotta wear shades.

So Richard and Harry allowed Niall to make the record he wanted to. Which is a backlash against the overbearing label shenanigans the Mottola era inaugurated, never mind the reign of Clive Davis. The team was established and the record was recorded but they did argue about the single, which took 17 mixes to get right, because today it is all about the single, and if it’s not right you’re screwed.

And then Niall went around the world twice promoting himself and his new music. They told me he was good at it, remembered names, and I took this with a grain of salt until I was on the stairs after the show and he said “Hi Bob.” Hell, there are musicians I’ve known for decades who make like they don’t know me, ones I’ve written superlative stuff about, but this guy I met in passing as part of a group remembers me? I didn’t believe it. I thought he was prompted. But no, Niall just told me Richard had mentioned that I was gonna be there last night.

Whew!

People want to work with nice people. Talent isn’t enough.

And you work harder than a financial wizard, with a hell of a lot more jet lag. Niall shrugged when I queried whether he was burned out, he said he’d been around the globe seven times so far, hell, he just celebrated his 24th birthday in Japan! Staying up all night drinking until the English football came on.

When he’s not playing golf, that’s how he blows off steam. When he’s unavailable on the links.

And the label meshed with management and worked radio and the usual suspects, it’s a juggernaut, I tell you!

And now is where you pooh-pooh the whole damn thing, saying the music sucks, but the truth is Niall’s solo work is closer to Neil Young than Nas, and it ain’t just kiddie ditties, it’s more…rock and roll. With melody.

Yup, young people are gonna save this world. Everything old is new again. Niall loves the Eagles, and you may hate them, but the Eagles had superb songwriting skills, with melodies and choruses, and so does Niall. Not making a direct comparison, it’s just that what goes for rock today is oftentimes too self-referential, such a reaction to what once was that you can’t understand it unless you’re deep in the rabbit hole. Put on Niall’s new album at a dinner party and everybody will enjoy it. Songs with meaning you can sing along with, what a concept!

And right now Spotify is dominated by hip-hop. Because those were the early adopters. And as you can see the joke is on the pooh-poohers, because it’s streaming that’s driving revenue. Will other genres make an impact?

That’s an interesting question.

Hip-hop has culture, never underestimate the story.

But Niall has 1D story.

And those fans know every word and sing along.

And come in droves.

There’ll be a shed tour next year, but demand far outstrips that. But if you want credibility, you’ve got to act in a credible way.

Think about this, as you were glued to the past streaming won.

Now, youngsters not burdened by your baggage are gonna reinvent the business with the building blocks of your youth and succeed.

What’s the problem?

THERE IS NONE!

anonymous asked:

Maybe Dark!Annabeth fighting a child of the big three and she knows that defeating them with physical, raw power isn't possible, so she attacks mentally. She defeats them with words, something Annabeth constantly does throughout the books to her enemies. Making them so angry, distracted, and/or sad that they lose focus and she easily takes the victory.

Annabeth feels him coming before she sees him.

There’s a charge in the air. A gathering static that threatens to strike with every movement she makes, but never quite gets the guts to do so.

That’s Jason Grace for you. Son of Jupiter, chosen of Juno, and just a touch too soft to do what needs to be done. Oh sure, he’ll kill monsters if he needs to, but when the monsters are gods, his solution is to become a priest.

It’s about finding a compromise, he’d said. And making sure that we’re heard.

Annabeth’s finding there are better ways of making noise.

“You got here faster than I expected,” she remarks as he touches down in front of her. She’s perched on the crumbling remnants of a wall that’s thousands of years old. Some small, distant part of her regrets what is about to happen here, but not enough to change course.

“Your pattern’s getting old,” he says. His gladius is out and he holds it warily between them. Annabeth keeps her drakonbone sword at her side. “The others can hold Percy off long enough for me to stop what you’re doing.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You’re the only one coming?”

He tries to hide his grimace, but that’s the danger with fighting your friends. They can read you too well, and a smile curls over Annabeth’s mouth at the confirmation. She hops off the wall, landing lightly on the dirt.

“What made you think I’d be at Pompeii?”

Lightning crackles in the sky overhead, raising the small hairs at the back of her neck. He nods at the scaffolding in the distance, empty of workers this early in the morning. It’s a grim dawn, about to get darker.

“No tourists today. You might’ve turned against the gods, Annabeth, but you’re not a murderer.”

Isn’t she? Annabeth has lost count of the number of monsters she’s put in the ground (under the ground). How many demigods died in the war with Kronos? They bleed red the same as mortals, and her hands are as stained as anyone’s.

So are Jason’s, and irritation pricks at her face. She smooths it away with a cool smile, carefully tracking him as he starts to circle her. She has a certain amount of faith in Jason’s willingness to ‘save’ his friends, but she’s not an idiot.

“So I should start picking locations with people if I don’t want you to interfere, is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s obviously not what I’m saying.” His gaze flickers over the ruins stretching behind her. “So this is all rigged to blow, huh?”

“Leo does good work.”

He winces. He can play on whatever friendship the two of them might have had all he likes, but that betrayal is the real knife in the guts and they both know it. Annabeth coerces her expression into concern, the cogs of her brain turning the right muscles to give it the realism it needs. She takes a half step forward, and Jason doesn’t step away.

“He misses you, you know.” Her voice is a soft thing. Caring. “Misses both of you.”

“If he misses us so bad, he should come and see us.”

“You really think we’re going to be welcome at Camp after all this?

“You haven’t killed anyone.”

The yet sits between us, and it doesn’t matter anyway. The gods would be more likely to forgive her if she had killed someone. They could have murdered thousands of mortals and not been struck down, if they’d just done it far away from the last vestiges of godly power in this world.

Gaea had plotted to bring down Mt Olympus, and that’s definitely on Annabeth’s list. But she’s always been a methodical sort of girl, and divine power runs deep. Best to stamp out all traces of it, one relic at a time.

She sighs. “We don’t plan to. You know that.”

“You’re trying to kill the gods!” Lightning cracks again, closer now. It takes more strength than Annabeth wants to admit to to avoid reaching for her weapon.

“And how many times have they tried to kill us? At best they don’t give a shit, Jason, you know that.”

But he’s shaking his head. They’ve had this fight before, all of them, enough times that she could probably just record it for him to save energy. He’s long since stopped listening to sense, and she doesn’t bother with more than a cursory attempt to convince him.

“You’re too late for this one,” she says. “I’m proud of you for getting here before it blows, but you were right. It’s ready to go.”

His grip shifts on his sword. And - there’s something in his expression that prompts her to brace for an attack, because it’s not defeat. This time, she thinks. This time might be the one where I push too far.

It’s sad, sort of, but relief swamps that soon enough. It’s not that she wants to fight old friends, but it would make everything a lot simpler. To just be able to fight, without caring what happens to them anymore. To draw battlelines instead of blurring them

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growls. “But even if the rest of your team is ready to destroy this place, they’ll stop once you’re a hostage.”

Annabeth laughs. It’s a miscalculation, but she can’t help herself. “The others might. But hell itself couldn’t keep Percy Jackson from me, Jason, and you’re no Tartarus.”

“I can deal with Percy.”

He can’t. She wonders idly if he knows that. Everyone’s aware of Percy’s power these days, but that’s what he’s like with her at his side. Jason, she suspects, still has a little too much optimism left about what Percy’s self control would be like without her. What it would be like if he even thought she was in danger.

“Right, well, that’ll be your mistake to live with.” She squints up at the sky, trying to judge her next play. Being a hostage would accelerate certain things that she’s not ready to set into motion just yet. Most of all, she doesn’t think that Percy is quite as ready to fight the others as she is.

Not yet.

“You made a miscalculation,” she said finally. “You always want to go for the biggest player, Jason. It’s one of your biggest weaknesses.”

“You can’t talk your way out of this, Annabeth.” His body moves, and she can almost trace the lines in the air, the familiar forms he’s about to slide into. “You’re coming back to Camp wth me.”

He lifts his blade, wreathed in lightning. She smells ozone on the air, the threat of violence wafting in behind it. She clasps her hands behind her back, and lays down her hand.

“Where’s Piper, Jason?”

Everything stops. Nature itself holds its breath as those too-blue eyes widen in sheer panic, before narrowing at her.

“Piper’s your friend. You wouldn’t hurt her.”

Annabeth waits. She doesn’t need to say anything. The silence between them does it for her. The even sound of her breathing. The shroud of absolute confidence holding her shoulders straight.

You are not going to take me, her body says, like it’s all a foregone conclusion.

“She can handle herself,” he tries again, and there’s the edge of desperation that she’s been waiting for. Enough to cloud his thinking. He might not think she’s a murderer, but there are other atrocities. Things she hasn’t held back from in the opening numbers of this new war.

“Against Percy?”

That’s a risk. Because they both know that Percy isn’t steady, isn’t stable, that his relationship with Piper had been tenuous at best and that without Annabeth there, his temper might just get away with him. Piper has her Charmspeak, but there are ways around everything if you have enough power.

It’s a risk, because Jason’s anger could always outweigh his fear. He could always take it out on her rather than fly off for Piper. Annabeth is confident in her ability to take him with a sword, but Jason comes with all those bonus add-ons that children of Athena just aren’t privy to.

So she gives him one last push. Just to make sure.

“Tartarus has so many doors,” she says softly. That same quiet concern from before, turned deadly now. “You know we found all of them, right Jason?”

He spits a curse, something in Latin about the gods and what he hopes they’ll do to her. She watches him leap into the sky, shading her eyes against the rising sun until he’s no more than a dot in the distance.

“You say that like they haven’t already done their worst,” she murmurs, before turning back to the ruins.

There’s work to be done.

stuff from amy’s insta livestream (9.15.17)
  • amy wants ethan to dress up as timmy from fairly odd parents bECAUSE REASONS
  • amy was playing gorillaz during her lilvestream
  • amy is a lowkey fan of couples costume and urges mark to dress with her
  • she also is a huge ass fan of group costumes
  • blue smurf costumes and body paint remind amy of bad homestuck cosplays
  • canon peevils has three eyes and no limbs attached
  • amy is (or used to be)  a doctor who fan
  • mark used to watch doctor who as well !!
  • amy’s fave doctor is matt smith
  • amy loves to shop at asos
  • mark bulk buys, according to amy
  • amy wants tO BE ETHAN FOR HALLOWEEN AKSAHDJHSDIUERT
  • she also wants to dress and act like kathryn because she knows her the most
  • kathryn is more into gaming culture than the rest of teamiplier
  • amy wants to improve on her pottery skills
  • amy wants to livestream open rct with mark on tour
  • amy was making a stamp on the livestream!! it’s an alien!!
  • “nothing wrong with being sad once in a while. sometimes you just need to be sad for a little bit.”
  • amy can hold grudges for a long time and doesn’t understand the concept of forgiveness ad forgetting
  • eventually amy will have an office room for her to do her art. for now, she’s doing her art in the kitchen.
  • amy’s fave colors are yellow and charcoal
  • amy has a snoopy waffle iron she never used
  • shitty art classes with amy: a new tv series coming to you
  • that top thing was a joke and i can’t believe i have to clarify that

comment other things from the stream!!

Studio

Hoseok is stressed about his upcoming mixtape, so you decide to swing by his studio and help him relax.

pairing: hoseok x reader
genre: smut, fluff
wordcount: 5k
inspiration




You hadn’t seen Hoseok in a week.

For the two of you, a week was a long time. You were missing him. You had quickly gotten used to your routine with Hoseok since he had returned from the tour a few months ago. You both worked during the day and you shared your evenings together. It was your nights with Hoseok that you missed.

You had grown accustomed to falling asleep to his soft snores and reaching over to poke him abruptly when his snores were too loud. You had quickly adapted to how you would both wake up sometimes in the middle of the night, suddenly overcome with lust, needing each other right then and there. In fact, those were some of your favourite nights with Hoseok, when at 3am, he had you moaning with your underwear around your knees, and his hands wrapped around your neck and your stomach as he made love to you. 

Of course there were harder nights with Hoseok- nights when he was so exhausted he practically collapsed into bed, saying nothing, just wanting to hold you close to him. Or the nights when you would fight, arguing about small things that didn’t really matter, the two of you falling asleep prickly with irritation. Nevertheless, you appreciated all of your nights with Hoseok, the difficult ones, and of course, the good ones. You knew quality time with Hoseok was rare, so having your nights with him was something you valued. 

So when seven nights passed without Hoseok, seven lonely nights, you were all too acutely aware of just how badly you were missing him.

Keep reading

Voltron Force [Battlefront] damaged copies + digital PDF release

Finally makes a post about this–

Voltron Force [BATTLEFRONT] will be going back up for sale on September 20th at 3pm Pacific time. 

There will be books in new condition, damaged copies, digital PDFs, and sets of the exclusive Voltron military au dog tag necklaces. There is a very small number of items left. I still haven’t decided if I’m going to be doing a reprint of these books so please DO NOT ASK ME IF THERE WILL BE. 

The store link>> hiberrybottle.storenvy.com/


[DIGITAL PDF] 

After long last, here’s some information regarding digital PDFs of Voltron Force [BATTLEFRONT].

Digital PDFs will include all 62 pages of the doujin, including the guest pages and covers. However it will not come with the free postcard that comes with the physical copy of the books.  

THIS IS IMPORTANT IF YOU WISH TO BUY THE DIGITAL BOOK: The shop will list the Digital PDF as “COMING SOON.” You won’t be able to buy the digital copy from this shop. Click on the item and check the description box for a link that will redirect you to where you can purchase the digital PDF. 

The digital copy will cost $10 per download. 

The digital PDF will only be available for purchase from September 20th to September 25th (5 days). 


[DAMAGED COPIES]

The damage varies between books, but includes one or more of the following: dented cover/spine, scratches on cover, binding glue damage, damage to the foil stamping. 

Each damaged book will be sold at a discounted price of $10, not including shipping.


[EXCLUSIVE MILITARY AU DOG TAGS]

The dog tags that I made exclusively for this doujinshi will be sold separately from the book now for $15. This includes all five dog tags. The dog tags will not be sold individually. 

cryptidsanonymous  asked:

I just read everything in your gods and monsters series and wow I am in awe. I am absolutely blown away by your writing it's beautiful the Icarus one had me staring at a wall for ten minutes afterwards absorbing what I'd just read. anywhoozle, I love everything you've written and not to rush or pressure you or anything but I was wondering if perhaps we could get more of the greek mythology stories?

a continuation of this


Caeneus has only ever had two loves in his life.

First is the sea. He’s loved her his whole life, heard her siren song from the time he had long curly hair and still tolerated being put in dresses and called a girl. He loves the sea like his parents go to temple, in an unmovable and inexplicable way that he no longer questions.

Second is Poseidon. Foolish, but so achingly kind. He’s a man who professes his wish to master the sea without ever really understanding it, and Caeneus smiles and kisses the stress lines from his brow but does not worry.

The sea has never loved him back, and it never will. She is power and coldness and loss, and her beauty is in her tragedy. Poseidon is warmth and thoughtfulness and strong hands on his hips. He is nothing like the sea, and he will never rule it.

Caeneus knows this, and he’s relieved by it. Poseidon loves him back. Poseidon is not the sea.

Then he wakes up to his lover’s lips on his neck, cold enough that flinches away from the sensation, and for a terrifying moment he doesn’t recognize the person touching him as the man he loves.

“I can do it now,” he whispers, and cool fingers splay against his waist, “I can make you the man you want to be.”

Caeneus wants the body that men usually have, wants people to stop looking at him and seeing a woman. But if Poseidon had asked, he would have told him – Caeneus would choose his lover over a new body, would rather live as he does now than have Poseidon harm himself for his benefit.

But he did not ask, so Caeneus closes his eyes and accepts the gift his lover is so eager to give him.

~

Amphitrite has never had a heart before.

She was the sea, and what she desired, she took. Men, women – she wanted, and she had, and then she moved on.

But the heart in her chest is softer, warmer. It turns her pearl hued skin pink and makes her swim to the surface to watch the sun set, makes something like empathy stir inside her when before all she had was selfishness.

The heart in her chest is in love, and she thought it was something she could control, something she could stop. It’s not. It will be one day, when she masters this heart in her chest, but not yet. She spends hours following Caeneus as he sails her seas, guides fish into his net and feels her borrowed heart beat that much faster whenever he pears into the ocean and she catches sigh of his gorgeous amber eyes.

So she says to Poseidon, “You spend too much time on the shore for a god of the sea.”

He glances at her, and his eyes are green just like hers, are cold and uncaring just like hers used to be. She wonders what her eyes look like now. “Caeneus is on the shore.”

“Bring him here if you’re so concerned with your mortal,” she says, focusing on weaving shells into her hair and giving the impression that she couldn’t care less what he does with his mortal plaything. “The palace is big enough.”

He stops and turns to her, eyebrow raised. “You do not mind me bringing him here?”

“Do with your mortal as you wish,” she repeats, and stamps down on the trembling joy in her chest, “It’s no concern of mine.”

~

Caeneus doesn’t know how to love a god of the sea. He knew how to love Poseidon – take him onto the water to watch the sunrise, feed him warm, sweet drinks, and let him curl around him at night and listen to his stories of his siblings, of impossible gods who do impossible things.

But now he sits in a palace under water, with his own room and the freedom to see the other side of the ocean he loves so dearly. There are no sunsets here, no cocoa to barter for, and Poseidon doesn’t tell him stories any more.

Poseidon still loves him. He kisses him and holds his hips when they sleep together and keeps him by his side while he crosses the sea and gains more and more control over this domain that he now commands. Poseidon still loves him, he tells himself when he itches to return to the surface and the home Poseidon build for him, and the life he built for himself.

He didn’t want to be a consort of the king of sea. He just wanted to be Caeneus, a man who loved a man and was loved in return, a man who loved the sea even though it would never love him back.

The sea will never love him back. He’s known that since he was a child, so the real question is – how much of the Poseidon he knew is left, and how much of him the depths of the ocean?

~

There’s a hurricane that requires her husband’s attention, and even he is not so foolish as to bring his lover to a place as dangerous as that. Which means it’s the perfect time for her to run into him in the interior gardens, as he stares up through the iridescent seaweed to the rays of sunlight that just manage to penetrate the water. “Do you miss it?” she asks him, and he startles, swinging around to face her and stumbling away.

“My lady!” he says, and falls to his knees before her, bowing his head. It’s what she expects of all mortals, but not from him, never from him. The heart in her chest loves him, and if it’s not her heart, well – the rest of her doesn’t know the difference. “A thousand apologies.”

“You are welcome here,” she says, and smiles. She’s never smiled quite like this before, she’s never felt quite like this before, fond and fluttery and so painfully eager that it would be embarrassing if she ever dared articulate it. It’s a wonder Poseidon managed to get anything done at all if this is what he had in his chest.

He looks up, hesitant, and she holds out her hand. He takes it, and she pulls him to his feet, pulls him closer until they’re nearly touching and he’s forced to look up into her eyes or be stuck staring at her chin. He’s warmer than her, she can feel the heat pouring off him in waves, and she wants him to hold her in his arms so she can languish against him like she would a sun-warmed rock.

Before she had a heart, she took who and what she wanted, when she wanted it.

Now she has a heart, and she takes his hands in both of hers and says, “Would you like to visit the surface? I can take you, and bring you back before my husband returns.”

He’s hesitant because he’s afraid of her. Caeneus will never love her, because although she holds the heart he loves she is not the person the heart belongs to. Not that he knows any of that, not that anyone will ever know the details of her and Poseidon’s arrangement. But she doesn’t want Caeneus to be afraid of her. She wants him to smile at her like she is a sunrise. “Yes, please,” he decides on finally.

She stands and watches as he walks through his home, as he touches the hearth and looks longingly at the bed, as he stands in the small cottage that he clearly prefers over her palace, over all the riches and adoration that comes with being consort to the sea.

Caeneus is a simple man, whose heart loves with a simple love.

He is a man whose heart loves someone who now has no heart, and Amphitrite can’t bring herself to tell him. She’s the one who took it away, and she won’t give it back.

She likes having a heart, and one day she will need to return it, but not now, not yet, not for a long time.

~

Caeneus lies besides Poseidon, curled up so his head rests on the god’s outflung arm and he can watch his chest rise and fall as he sleeps. There are bruises on Caeneus’s hips and down his chest, bite marks on his shoulder and up his neck. It’s not the first time his lover has been rough with him, and he doesn’t mind, like that Poseidon doesn’t touch him like he’s afraid he’ll break, likes that whenever he’s rough he’s careful enough with his strength not to ever cross the line from bruising to breaking.

It’s different than it used to be. It’s been different for a long time, ever since Poseidon somehow convinced the Lady to hand over her title as monarch, to share her power with him for no reason that Caeneus can see. It’s not love between them, because the sea does not love. But she got something out of it, something valuable enough to bargain away part of her power, and as soon as she did the man Caeneus loves ceased to exist.

He slides out of bed and angrily rubs at his eyes. He can’t do this anymore, can’t sleep and live with this man who has his lover’s face and memories and nothing else.

He knows this palace well, and everyone else knowns him too. The servants don’t question him, only offer shallow bows before hurrying on his way. He’s a fisherman who lives on the outskirts of society. He’s not any sort of person that people were meant to bow to. He stands in front of an ornate set of carved doors, the beautiful shimmering inside of a muscle shell of impossible size. Two guards stand at each door, but neither move to stop him as he pushes it open and slips inside.

“Lady?” he whispers. Large, bioluminescent carvings flare to life all across the room, bathing them in soft golden-green light. Amphitrite pulls herself out of bed, green hair loose around her and the rest of her on display, pale and flawless, as perfect an example of a beautiful woman as Caeneus has ever seen, and he averts his gaze. “Lady!”

“So modest,” she teases, and when he glances over she’s in a simple white robe and pulling her hair up behind her. She looks vulnerable like this, almost like his mother did when she would rouse him and his father from sleep in the darkness of early morning so they could catch the fish while they were still sleeping. “What’s going on Caeneus? I thought my husband had exclusive rights to your nights,” she winks, and he forces a smile.

He walks over to her, takes her hands in his because he knows she likes how warm he runs compared to her, and her smile slips off her face. “Please,” he whispers, “Poseidon is different than he once was, and I want to know why. Please.”

~

She shouldn’t tell him, but the heart in her chest loves him, and she loves him too, thinks she would even without Poseidon’s heart influencing her.

So she tells him, and when he starts crying she brushes away his tears and he doesn’t stop her. “He’ll never love you like he once did,” she tells him, “It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just can’t.”

“The sea doesn’t love you back,” he says, because he knows, because he’s a skilled sailor, because he’s one of the people who has worshipped her his whole life without ever expecting anything back, because that’s what an ocean gives back – nothing at all. “Can – can I give you my heart?”

She stares. “Excuse me?”

“Let me give you my heart,” he pleads, “so that I may hold Poseidon’s in my chest. You can have mine, I know I’m only a mortal–”

“You’re all mortal to me,” she says, because a hundred years, a thousand, ten thousand, what does it matter – she and Gaia were around long before gods and humans, and they’ll be around long after them. “If I give you Poseidon’s heart, you will become a god.”

He pales and flinches away from her. He’s not in this for power, this was never about power to him. It was always about love. “Lady, I’m not trying to – I don’t want that.”

“If you become a god,” she continues, because she loves him and that means she wants him to be happy, even at her own expense, “you will be alive when the time comes for me to reclaim my title of monarch. One day I will take back my heart from Poseidon, will reclaim the cold, black thing in his chest as my own, and when I do he will no longer be master of the sea. When I do, you can give him back his heart, and he will love you as he loved you before, as he will always love you.”

Caeneus has a hand over his chest and there’s so much hope shining in his eyes that it’s almost painful to look at. “Please, Lady. Please. I love him, let me carry his heart, let me have him back once you are done. I will wait.”

“It will be a long time,” she answers honestly, “Empires will rise and fall before I’m willing to give this up, before Poseidon will be willing to give up his power over the sea.”

“I will wait,” Caeneus repeats, “I love him. If you have my heart, maybe you will grow to love him too. If you have my heart, you will protect him, you will keep him safe.”

Amphitrite loves Caeneus, and Caeneus loves Poseidon, and Poseidon is incapable of loving anyone at all. “Very well,” she whispers, because a heart is a heart, and just like Poseidon she’s unable to deny Caeneus anything.

She breaks open her chest and takes out the warm, beating heart of Poseidon. She slits open Caeneus’s chest for him, and holds him upright while struggles to take out his heart and clumsily places in into her chest. She heals over instantly, and nestles Poseidon’s heart in Caeneus’s ribcage. He too heals over, and his eyes flash with power as the heart settles inside of him.

Caeneus becomes so much more than a mortal man in that moment.

This heart doesn’t feel too different, she still loves Caeneus because she’s capable of loving and he is worthy of it. “Go,” she says, “Say your goodbyes, and leave. If you stay, he’ll just continue hurting you, and in a few thousand years he’ll hate himself for it. Leave now, and spare both of you that pain.”

He leans forward and cups her face in his hands, kissing her on each cheek. “Thank you,” he breathes, and then he’s gone.

~

Caeneus can feel the power of a god flowing into him, but he doesn’t care about that, the only reason he’s glad he’s a god now is so he’ll live long enough to get Poseidon back, to get the Poseidon who loves him back.

He goes back to where Poseidon is sleeping, and takes a long, careful look. It will be a long time before he sees this man again. He kisses him on the lips, softly and carefully, the way Poseidon first kissed him when he thought he was sleeping.

Then he leaves, stepping outside the palace and using his newly gained powers to bring himself to the shore.

~

Poseidon is furious, bur Amphitrite won’t budge, says only that Caeneus left. He throws a temper, and half the palace is lost in the aftermath, but she does not care.

She doesn’t tell him that she no longer carries his heart. It doesn’t matter. Caeneus’s heart beats in her chest, and she sits on her throne amongst the rubble and does nothing more than sigh at the way he threatens to tear the world apart looking for his lover. It will pass. The depth and coldness of the sea is unable to sustain such fits of wild passion.

Years pass. Rumors reach them of a sea god, one who is known for rescuing sailors and fisherman from storms, one who they say used to be a mortal fisherman himself.

They call him Glaucus, and say that he swallowed a magical herb to become a god.

She smiles when she hears these rumors, and thankfully Poseidon has long given up trying to get her to explain herself. The rumors are only half right, but she likes hearing them none the less.

It comforts her to hear that Caeneus is well.


gods and monster series, part xiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

we need so much help

we have no income, and apparently cannot be hired.

we have to pay $660 for rent/month, plus bills

I have a tooth I need to get pulled, which will cost at least $120, AND 30 minutes ago i broke ANOTHER tooth, and I have no idea how much that will cost, but it will probably be at least as much.

ALSO, our cat Queen had to have surgery a few weeks ago, and the bill for that ended up being $1700

My paypal is nefaeryous@gmail.com (or paypal.me/nefaeryous) and we also have a food + phone service card list here: http://a.co/f2SumiD 

our friend Ezra @carco5a is also in dire straights, they are in recovery and have no income and due to an error their food stamps were cancelled. Also, they ALSO had to take a cat to the vet, and they now owe $120.

Ezra’s paypal is bonescollide@hotmail.com

Every little thing helps, even just a dollar, or spreading this post.

thank you so much

I struggle with staying in the here and now, in the present. Some days it’s easy and some days it’s really hard. I find myself getting so caught up in where I want to be, where I need to be, that I continuously ignore the beauty and light around me. I often compare my life to the lives of others my age and I wonder, why am I so behind? I just want to catch up with them. I just want to finally get what I want and what I need in life.

In thinking this way, I find myself not being happy with how my life is and where I currently am in life. I have to remind myself to be gentle with my mind, my heart, my soul. I’m still young. Contrary to what society says, there is no time stamp on when I’m supposed to have my life figured out. There is so much time to figure things out. It is okay to not be where I want to be.

One day, I will be where I want to be and all of this will be a distant memory. My time will come, it is coming. I remind myself to focus on the here and now by asking myself, what is something I am happy for in this present moment? The way my body feels as the cool summer breeze runs over my skin, laying my head on my dog’s chest and hearing his heartbeat, the way listening to my favorite song makes me feel. My focus is not “I want” or “I wish”, it is “I am”. I am happy right now. I am hopeful for the future. I am at peace.

In these reminders, I feel my heart rate decrease to a normal rate and I feel okay. I am back in the here and now.

noonfter  asked:

ALRIGHT CONSIDER OK so my friend had a midnight OH SHIT moment and thought of gai/zabuza because holy shit. Gai seeing zabuza as a "what if" version of Kakashi Bc the whole //I'm a tool I exist only to be used by the village// thing and the fact he's shunned for his demonic chakra and bloodthirsty nature and Kakashi is shunned for his father !!! Imagine gai being like yes ok ur my second eternal rival and determined to help zabuza out of the darkness like he did with Kakashi AND IMAGINE (1/2)

THEIR KIDS??? tenten being ecstatic because swordsman!! And pestering him for lessons and neji and haku!!! Them sparring and neji determined to find a way I beat his ice mirror jutsu and just imagine zabuza taking one look at Lee and being like oh god not a mini ok kid get over here and I’m gonna teach u how to use a sword it’s for the greater good and haku just is so amused and happy Bc gai is a ray I sunshine and it’s good ok

Um. Oops?


Zabuza is honestly still waiting for the other sandal to drop.

“And this one!” the admirably bloodthirsty little girl breathes with clear reverence, lifting a sword off the wall and turning to offer it to him.

Feeling mostly bemused, Zabuza takes it, judging the balance, and feels his eyebrows climb involuntarily. “Well now,” he says, checks the forger’s stamp on the hilt, and whistles. “Where’d a brat like you get a Toye blade?”

Rather than taking offense, Tenten beams. “I took it off a samurai in northern Ame,” she says cheerfully. “He had no idea how to use a sword. I was doing the world a favor.”

Zabuza chuckles, because this brat he can connect with. He flips the sword up, catches it, and tries a couple of thrusts, and it’s not Kubikiribōchō, but it still moves like a dream, folded steel glimmering blue like ripples of water.

Tenten watches him like a proud parent showing off her children, hands clasped in front of her as she bounces on her toes. Almost reminds him of Mei, really, though she likes sharp things more than lava. Likes sharp thing a lot, seeing as the walls of her apartment are pretty much floor-to-ceiling weapon racks, and that’s not even counting the scrolls full of more standard weapons piled high on a shelf.

If only the rest of her team were like her, honestly.

From the kitchen, there’s a loud cry of victory in two voices, and Zabuza swears he can feel his eye twitch. Tenten doesn’t even seem to notice as she takes the Toye blade from him and carefully sets it back in its stand, but Zabuza supposes it would take a lot more than a bit of noise to shake her if she’s really been on the lunatic’s team for a whole year already.

“Second rival!” said lunatic cries, skidding around the corner to present him with a beaming smile and two thumbs up. “We have successfully created a meal that will nourish your flames of Youth! Come, my friend! It is ready!”

Zabuza has encountered more exclamation points in the last two days than he had in his entire life before this, and he isn’t quite sure what to think of it. He eyes Gai for a moment, then glances past him at Haku, who is splattered liberally with what is probably batter and is frazzled but trying not to look it. The Hyuuga kid seems entirely resigned to his fate as he carefully wrings out his long hair over the sink, and Zabuza can’t see the clone thing but he can hear crashing off to the side.

How the hell were they beaten by these ridiculous people, Zabuza thinks, and resists the urge to drag his hands over his face.

“We’re not friends,” he tells Gai. “You tied me up and dragged me to this shitty village and I am going to kick your ass for it.”

Gai’s grin, if anything, grows wider. “Yosh, you are clearly full of Youthful Vigor! It warms my heart to see such spirit in my second eternal rival! Shall we have a rematch? Our intense man to man battle starts now!” He drops into one of the fighting poses Zabuza had originally mocked, but by now Zabuza knows better. This guy is terrifying. And not just because of the spandex.

“Not in my apartment, Gai-sensei,” Tenten says almost absently, like this is so common it’s become rote. “And careful where you say that. If Hatake hears he has a rival for your affections, he’ll get jealous.”

Zabuza blinks, then turns to look at Gai again. Just how popular is this bastard?

“You got dipping sauce on your jumpsuit,” Neji says blandly, on his way past with a tray of bowls.

“Ah!” Gai wails, and his hand immediately goes to the zipper of his outfit. “If I don’t get it out immediately, the stain will set!”

There’s a clatter from the kitchen, and the mini-clone skids around the corner exactly like Gai did. “Gai-sensei! I have filled the sink! I will defeat this stain and it will no longer mar the green of our Youthful and manly outfits!”

“Lee! You are going to grow into a great man! One of the Flames of Youth lighting Konoha!” Gai cries, and—Zabuza is pretty sure he’s crying. Those are tears. Backlit by a sunset.

He has no idea what’s going on here.

“You’ll get used to it,” Neji tells him, over the cries of Lee! and Gai-sensei! filling the air.

“Or go mad,” Tenten adds, more cheerfully than is really warranted, on her way past.

Haku edges out of the kitchen, takes one look at the scene, and then clearly decides that Neji is the only safe territory and beats a hasty retreat to practically hide behind him.

Zabuza snorts, though he definitely doesn’t disagree, and turns from staring judgmentally at his apprentice to glace disbelievingly at Gai. He’s just in time to see green spandex go flying, and—

Oh.

Oh.

Zabuza’s hardly a slouch in the muscles department—Kubikiribōchō is an iron sword as tall as he is, and it takes a hell of a lot of strength and a good bit of chakra to use it well. But Gai makes him look like a reedy little genin, and Zabuza already got his ass kicked thoroughly, knows that Gai very well could crush his head like a melon. He hadn’t seen the muscles, though, and that horrible bodysuit hides a hell of a lot.

Zabuza carefully checks that he’s not drooling, tears his eyes away from the way those boxers hug Gai’s truly awe-inspiring ass, and grabs Tenten by the arm as she passes.

The girl’s cunning enough to trip up Haku; she’s definitely his best bet here.

“Who’s this Hatake asshole?” he demands. “A boyfriend?”

Tenten blinks at him for a moment, then tilts her head thoughtfully. “His first eternal rival,” she says, studying him. “They’ve been friends since they were kids.”

Zabuza has a lot of work to do, then. He grits his teeth, then meets Tenten’s eyes. “How much would I have to pay you to run interference?”

Tenten beams, bouncing on her toes. “Swordsmanship lessons,” she says blissfully. “And three new weapons.”

He strangles a groan, but casts a look over her collection anyway. He’s going to have to try really fucking hard to find some she doesn’t already have—her hoard is impressive, especially for a genin. But—

He takes another look at Gai, who’s currently flexing for no apparent reason except fuck that is a pretty picture, Zabuza has not wanted someone to fuck him this badly ever—and then back at Tenten, who’s managing to toe the line between innocent and devilish with all the best qualities of both.

Worth it, he decides without even hesitating.

“Deal,” he says.

Tenten wiggles gleefully. “Weapons!” she says, and practically floats away to keep Lee from destroying her kitchen in his enthusiasm. Zabuza watches her go, then turns at the feel of eyes on him and looks straight into Haku’s slightly horrified and wholly judging stare.

It’s probably a bad sign that Zabuza doesn’t even feel an ounce of shame. He just shrugs helplessly, waving a hand at Gai—still flexing, still glorious—in illustration, and Haku groans and buries his face in his hands.

Zabuza chuckles. Maybe getting dragged all the way from Wave to Konoha won’t turn out to be such torture after all.

June 15, 2017

Jay Z updates his Twitter. 

2017 Songwriters Hall of Fame. 

First rapper to be inducted! All of those who have inspired him as he has inspired us. 

Obama on Jay Z’s induction into the Songwriters Hall of Fame! Now what other rapper has the President’s praise and stamp of approval like this?