tight and compact!

superbdivinity  asked:

why do the mushrooms you reblogged grow in a circle? ;o

Those are best known as fairy rings. Mushrooms are actually the fruiting bodies of a much larger underground organism, an underground network called mycelium.  

The purpose of the mushrooms is to release spores (seeds), which will drift away in the wind and land on some dead plant material somewhere and a new colony of fungi gets its start. The first batch of mushrooms will be clustered in a tight, compact spot, not a ‘fairy ring.’ But eventually the fungi will run out of food, which means the mycelium has to constantly expand to find new nutrients. 

If all directions have a roughly equal distribution of nutrients the fungus will probably spread out in a circular pattern. There will not be any mushrooms in the center of the ring because the food there has been exhausted.

You can just imagine that this fairy ring just keeps getting larger and larger and larger, and some of these ‘fairy rings’ are actually so huge they span hundreds of miles. Scientists are of the opinion that this is one organism, the largest and most ancient organism on Earth! Scientists say ‘forget all that rubbish about bristlecone pine trees being the oldest living things on the planet.’ Giant redwood trees are just youths if you compare them to the age of the one fungi organism that comprises these large fairy rings.


Missing My Miller!

Heath Miller Is Still Recovering From Knee Surgery And Will Likely Miss The First 4 Games Of The Season! 

Cannot Wait To See Him Strapped And Ready For Action!

Sexy As Hell, Baby!

Godspeed, Heath!

In Plain Sight

This is a drabble going out to @cinensis as a thank you for his continued support. Sorry it took so long, and hope it is much enjoyed!

It starts with a kiss.

It’s still early on. Serizawa has become bolder, his fingers cupping Reigen’s cheeks without him even having to put them there. He had been keeping count of their kisses, but he’s lost track now. Because Reigen likes kissing, and he tends to pull Serizawa in when they pass each other in the halls of the office, when Serizawa gets ready to leave for the day, even when he’s just too close for too long.

This time, he’s walked him home after dinner. Serizawa has no idea how to ask Reigen if he can come in. Part of him wants more, or even the possibility of more, but even after a few weeks of dating, the end of the night is just that: the end.

Reigen opens his mouth a little, and Serizawa can feel his tongue. It’s touching his, and, encouraged, Serizawa moves his palms down to Reigen’s shoulders, to his chest.

He squeezes.

When Reigen pulls back with a gasp, his eyes are wide, but not in a particularly pleased way. He looks the way Serizawa does when he is on the verge of panic, and Serizawa is going to say something, but then…the moment ends. Reigen flicks his hair back, yanks Serizawa back in and kisses his forehead. “See ya at work, Seri,” he says, and Serizawa doesn’t even get the chance to say goodnight before the door is opened and closed, leaving him alone with the pinching, terrible awful that is thinking he has done something wrong.

Then, it’s a photo.

Reigen has tasked him with the work of going through boxes of old papers to be filed or thrown away, and at the bottom of one of the oldest and dustiest is a paperclip with several old photos. Most of them are people that Serizawa doesn’t recognize, but then he comes to one that stands out. A blonde girl with shoulder-length hair is smiling at the camera, holding a small chocolate heart, and she looks…so familiar.


Reigen doesn’t glance up from the magazine he is flipping through. “Hmm?”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Nope. Only child. Why?”

Serizawa holds up the photos. “I found these while going through one of these boxes. She looked like she might be related to you. Are these family photos?”

That gets Reigen’s attention. He puts the magazine down and gets up, narrowing his eyes at the photo. He’s silent, pensive, glaring at the photo for a moment until he drops it into the discard pile. “Don’t know how that got in there. Nothing important.”

Serizawa swallows and doesn’t say anything until it’s time for lunch.

Finally, it’s an accident.

Serizawa makes Reigen tea. It’s hot, of course, and he warns him of such, but Reigen doesn’t listen. This time, though, a stack of papers on his desk serves to not only keep him from putting the cup down as he burns his mouth but also causes it to slip, spilling onto his shirt. His face contorts with pain as he staggers to standing, quickly removing his jacket to start unbuttoning the shirt.

“Arataka!” Serizawa cries out, his psychic power suddenly flaring in a bright rush. It clears off the desk entirely, papers flying, small items scattering to the floor. The cup and any remaining drops of tea that hadn’t already soaked into the dress shirt are flung into the wall, shattering.

They stare at one another.

“I’m so sorry,” Serizawa blurts, running to the bathroom. He soaks a rag in cold water before returning, and he is at Reigen’s side, pressing the compact against the red, swelling flesh.

Reigen seems to blink as the shock wears off, and his gaze wavers slightly. He puts his hands to Serizawa’s wrists. “It’s…it’s fine, Seri. It’s not your fault.”

Maybe it’s the movement of his arms, or maybe it’s because Serizawa is so close to him, but that’s the moment he sees the scarring on his chest. Twin marks on each pect. And it’s like a swarm of dust has been cleared between Serizawa’s ears.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” Reigen whispers.

He looks up, and Serizawa knows that Reigen has seen him staring. Everything in his face is tight, compact, pained. Worried.

For maybe the first time since their relationship began, Serizawa takes a step and presses his lips to Reigen’s. They have shared other kisses, but Serizawa has never initiated one in the office. He makes it count, soft and still and tender.

“You never have to apologize to me,” he said finally, resting his forehead against Reigen’s. His mouth is dry, but he pushes on. “I love all of you. Even your impatience when it comes to tea, and your…fastidiousness about the office files…”

Reigen laughs softly at that.

“And I love everything about you that I don’t know yet. Nothing changes that. Nothing will change that.”

Reigen is silent until he pushes his head into Serizawa’s shoulder and lets out a long, deep breath.

Two nights later, when Serizawa walks him home, he invites him inside.




School Grade: 6th (11 years old)

This character is a combination of 糸 thread, and 宿 lodge, here working phonetically to express “arrange.” Together this gives to “arrange threads.” Some scholars see its present meaning as borrowed, while others view it as an extension of drawing together loose/slack threads and thus making them “tight” and “compact.”

the first day: open para

cameras. producers. everywhere. ainsley didn’t expect such an amount of commotion the first day back at dance. sure, she knew the production would be starting today, but it was nothing like she had ever imagined. cords littered every single spot she was used to stretching in, and the usually large lobby felt tight and compacted. nonetheless, she skipped into the den and plopped herself on an empty spot on the bench, sliding her bag into the cubby underneath. she scanned the room for anyone she knew, but it was mostly just older men setting up cameras and discussing what angles would work in the space. she was unsure, timid, but also very confident. this could be a great year for her. she noticed a teammate nearby, putting on their shoes, and decided to talk to them. “there’s a ton of people here today!” she said, looking towards the strangers. she began placing a brand-new canvas ballet shoe on her foot, pleased with how well it fit her.


What is it about Pinguicula that is so endearing, so enthralling, so addicting? They have such a wide array of form, size and color (and don’t even get me started on their flowers). Each butterwort offers up a juicy leaf, spotted with dew. Some are long and thin like slim fingers pointing to the sky, others are round and translucent, bending down to touch the soil while others form tiny, tight rosettes of compact leaves like something you’d see on a fancy cupcake. They range in color from pale white to soft green to purple to every shade of pink imaginable.

We find them beautiful even when their leaves are speckled with the bodies of the insects they’ve lured to their deaths. Like some sort of mythical Greek God who is all vengeance and crushing power but whose perfection and sleek allure we can’t help but worship.

For the person who falls in love with Pinguicula; there is almost no end to collecting. Each one is a spectacular little piece of art and we want every one we see. Thank goodness they are relatively small and it is easy to build up a nice collection. Plus, who needs all that furniture in their living room? Really, can’t we all just huddle around the terrariums and watch the Pings instead of the T.V.?

Zootopia Fan-story ENTRY 6 TUMBLR- Lonewolfwriter

Jack got home at 5:55pm, clocking out of the ZPD at exactly 5:30pm and taking the 747 train, he did nothing on the train but stare out the window, moving only once when a fox had taken the seat across from him, he moved not out of fear but to get a vantage on the fox had he tired something, he never did.

Jack’s house was on the outskirts of Zootopia, He lived in a large penthouse bearing on the edge of the rainforest district and tundra town, a place he chose for one very specific reason. The small splashes of rain on the window kept his ever going mind in a state of peace. The place was immaculate, it looked more like a display home, as everything was in a need tidy order, a vision into Jacks rolling stone lifestyle. He had a bar that stretched the entire right wall and a television unit that came down from the ceiling like a home theatre system, his kitchen was fit for a king and the wooden floor sparkled, except for one dark and damp patch by the window.

He opened the window behind the couch, pushing the couch out of the way, to stop it getting wet and sat on the wooden floor, where it was damp to the touch, small splatters of water landing on his shoulder and back, blown in by the westerly winds of Tundra town, turning the usually warm water of the rainforest district into sharp dagger of freezing cold water, he sat cross legged as if meditating in the exact place the water was landing, He lay his phone, wallet, keys and badge on the coffee table in front of him “Ryan Goodfur, Vergil Thumpfoot, Steven hare, Ryan Goodfur, Vergil Thumpfoot, Steven Hare” he repeated the names to himself over and over again, until he was shaking cold, the water drenching his entire uniform.

Almost ten minutes had passed by the time he was soaked to the core and shaking like a dog. Usually he would spend hours in this location, a daily ritual, a punishment, but today was different his phone buzzed, he closed his eyes tight before opening them and getting up. As he walked to close the window his paws sludged and squelched in his shoes. He picked up the phone, his fur hung from his face completely saturated and he was like ice to touch. He flicked open his flip Phone, the bright light illuminating his face

“Hay Jack, are you picking me up or are we going to meet somewhere?”

Jack blatantly stared at the phone, the names recited taking most of his focus, he exhaled and his thumbs went to work

“I will pick you up at 7:00pm exactly, see you soon”

Jack threw his phone onto the couch and proceeded to take his top of jumping into the shower, the sudden change from icy cold to steaming hot felt good, his body was all scarred up. He stood in the shower one hand on the wall, his eyes starring at the drain, the names slowly creeping into his thoughts. “It happens to often” thought Jack when he realised that 15 minutes had gone by, in what felt like seconds. He turned the handles of the shower and stepped out wrapping a towel around himself, his body radiating steam as he stepped out into the cold of the appartment.

He walked into a walk-in wardrobe that was the size of a whole room and from top to bottom, shelves and coat racks were laden with the finest materials and clothes money could buy. He dressed in his best attire, he was a city rabbit by nature, he wore a long, Grey, pin-stripe button up top with black trousers. He held a tie to his neck then shrugged it off throwing it over the bedhead “to formal” he muttered, he tightened his cufflinks and spray on his cologne before he went and starred himself in the mirror “looking sharp Savage” he muttered pleased with himself. He got to his garage opening it up, inside sat a soft roof sports car that was gloss black with rims to match “Hello my darling” he smirked” have you missed me?” He clicked his car key and the door opened vertically, he jumped in repositioning the mirror. He looked to his watch, and realised he still had fifteen minutes “easy time” he laughed before kicking the car into first gear and speeding off.


Judy had knocked off exactly when Jack had at 5:30pm

They had been in the lockers together throwing there belt into their lockers. It was quiet and awkward but Judy spoke first “so…I’ll see you tonight” she stated punching his arm playfully, Jack had starred back at her his aquatic coloured eyes seemed to pierce Judy and make her weak at the knees, but something was off, each time he would look at her, it was as if a part continued through her and glared into a void that seemed to drain from his very being.

“Jack… do you like me?” was the last thing Judy had asked him blushing

He leaned in and had kissed her cheek softly “More then you could imagine”

“ARGH, Get a room you two!” blared Bogo who had been in the corner of the locker room changing his top. Both their faces going pale and embarrassed

“See you tonight” yipped Jack a little bashful, shutting his locker, exiting left

“Likewise sir” Judy replied, having gone completely red at the cheeks, closing hers and heading in the opposite direction.

Judy was waiting out the front of her house, she was a country gal by nature and that’s how she would dress, she had a simply Pink flannel shirt on, and blue denim jeans, a wallet residing in her back pocket. She raised her wrist to check her watch it read 6:59pm she looked up the road to see an extremely expensive car coming toward her and in typical Jack fashion he stopped in front of Judy at exactly 7:00pm sharp.

He pulled up beside Judy the window lowering with a slight humming noise, “Hello Ms.Hopps”.

“Hay Jack” she stifled a little nervous.

“Jack looked her up and down “absolutely stunning” is all he said before getting out of the car and offering his elbow “shall we?”

Judy wrapped her arm in his, she could feel his muscle it was tight and compact, extremely dense for someone of his size. Jack walked her to the opposing door of the car and opened it for her gesturing her in, she sat in the leather seats smiling up at Jack who looked like an angel faced god standing above her, Jack closed the door gently moving to the other side and jumping in the driver’s seat. They began down the street “umm, where are we going jack?” quizzed Judy.


Judy gasped “NOOO, the Manarottis, but that’s one of the nicest places in Zootopia!”

Jack smiled “I know, But you know….” He started scratching the back of his head nervously, nervousness was a very new feeling for Jack. “I really like you Judy” he explained, with a shrug of his shoulders. Judy, felt warm for a moment before she pursed her lips seriously, “don’t think I haven’t forgotten, you still owe me an explanation”

Jack who was driving and starring at her, sighed heavily, his eyes dropping to the centre console “Judy…it’s over now… can we just have a nice night? I don’t want to think of work”

Judy rolled her eyes “Fine, but I need you to calm down, you scare me when you get like you did today”.

Jack was taken aback, he felt horrible and mortified at his action “I’m sorry Miss Hopps, sometimes-“ He stated looking back at the road “sometimes I just can’t help it”.

When they arrived at Manarottis, the line was up the street, “We’ll never get in” stated Judy with a flick of her paw, Jack however didn’t cease in his advances, he drove into the valet parking and got out, being extra sure to go and open Judy’s door for her, she got out and felt instantly underdressed, Jack noticed her hesitation and leaned in whispering deep into her ear

“You’re still the most gorgeous one here” before removing his mouth from her and again offering her his arm, she took it happily and with a sudden confidence and they began their way to the front door, Jack flicking his keys last minute at the valet, a middle aged zebra dressed in the typical red valet uniform.

 Jack walked directly to the door at the front of the line “Darryl” he stated with a nod. The security guard, a gigantic Rhino, who was dealing with people complaining about getting in turned with a smile obviously recognising the voice before seeing who it belonged to.

“Jacky boy, where have you been?” he bellowed his voice deep and loud

Jack smirked again his confidence radiated “Busy, secret business, you know how it is?”

Darryl nodded in agreement “Indeed I do” Darryl noticed Judy by his side “and who is this beautiful young lady” he asked leaning down  

“Darryl, this is Judy, Judy this is Darryl an old secret service friend”.

Darryl shook Judy’s paw, and looked her over, “Hay you’re that cop from the news” he pointed out laughing loudly about recognising her.

Judy nodded a little nervous and replied with a simply but drawn out “yeah!”

Jack noticed Judy’s grip on his arm tighten, he knew she felt a little shy and continued straight to the point. “You got that table for me?” Jack questioned with a raise of his eyebrows

“Right this way Jack” stated Darryl walking them inside.

The night passed on Jack and Judy flung back and forth about work and their past, training as rabbits to be something other animals thought was impossible. Different missions Jack had been on, even divulging some of the missions he was sworn oath not to speak of.

By 11:00pm dinner was long out of the way and seven bottle of wine littered the table, Judy was flushed red and Jacks shirt had come unbuttoned they each held the others paw.

“Soo” hic* “So then I said, you’re not a rhi-NO, You’re a rhi –YES” Jack and Judy bursting into hysterics, as they had been all night. They were both crying at the joke, the laughter slowly subsiding before Jack looked to his watch “My, my, it’s almost 11: 30pm” he state a little shocked at how quickly time had passed. “You got somewhere to be tomorrow?” she teased.

“Uhhh work?” replied Jack as if she should have known

Judy suddenly began laughing hysterically on her own.

“And what’s so funny, officer Hopps?” he asked slurring a little.

Between gasping breathes of laughter she finally got out “Tomorrows, Saturday and we have the day off”

Jack sat stunned for a moment his intoxicated brain, trying to remember his size 11 font roster on the inside door of his locker, before he too burst into laughter. They were laughing and laughing, when an older Antelope walked by in a suit holding a wine bottle

“More wine Mr. Savage?”

Jack waved his paw “No, no, we must be getting on, it’s late you know” he and Judy both began laughing about the in joke they shared, The antelope simply bowing his head “yes sir, will you be wanting the bill”

Jack cleared his throat his laughter subsiding “On the card, Ralphy” he stated pulling out a platinum card “and give you and the boys a little extra, for the amazing service”

“You are most generous, Mr. Savage” stated the antelope taking his card to pay the bill.

Judy sighed “This was a good night. But Jack, how do you have all this money?”

Jack grinned “I’m honest and hardworking”


On the other side of town Nick sat in his dreary basement, he was meant to move out he had been saving for month, only three more pay checks and he could have rented the place just down the road from Judy, he was even planning on the getting the two bedroom unit they had on offer, because he knew Judy’s place was too small and was going to ask her to join him.

His head sat in his hands, he hadn’t moved for hours, when it became too much he looked up at the mantle where pictures of Judy and him resided, his collar beeped once then twice, his temperature on the rise, when he exploded “ArGhhh!” he shouted getting up and flinging his arm across the mantle knocking all the pictures to the floor before getting a shock, his shoulder shooting up like that would protect him.

He breathed heavily, knowing he needed to stay calm, his lips had pulled back in a snarl. All the pictures on the ground had shattered but as he starred at them longer and longer he was overcome by sadness, his lips slowly making their way over is teeth to hide them. He looked back up to the nearly empty mantel piece to see only one picture remained, he lifted it up, it was a picture of him and Judy side by side, the first day they had become partners, the first day Nick got his badge, he remembered it like it was yesterday, he couldn’t tell who was smiling more, himself or Judy, his proudest moment and when the picture had been developed he had walked up to Judy and asked her to sign it for him.

“You’re my hero Carrots” he had stated, “Sign this for me will ya” she had grabbed a thin permanent marker and had written in the corner “In Zootopia, anyone can be anything” with two X’s at the end. The quote was a play on the first time they had met “har-har, Carrots, reeaal original!”

Nick starred longingly at the two X’s and slung his head over the mantle, the picture dangling from his grasp. “In Zootopia, anyone can be anything” he murmured to himself, and like he was sent a sign, there was an open newspaper on the ground, the page was in the job section. He looked to the picture of him and Judy, then to the paper “anyone can be anything”.

Nick sighed out the frustration then took a deep breath, he had a plan, “Well okay” he stated positively.


Judy and Jack finished paying and made their way to the car, they stopped short and both looked at one another then at the car.

“I can’t drive” chuckled Jack. Holding the keys out for Judy who pushed them away with her paw.

“Well I can’t drive” responded Judy placing her other paw on her chest. They sat bedazzled on what to do when Judy huffed “Come on Savage you can crash at mine!”  

They went to walk away when Savage put his paw up, a symbol for Judy to stop “one second” he stated running back to the car and opening it, he then locked it and ran over to Judy with something in his arms, he got to her and slung a black suit coat over her “don’t want my partner getting sick now do I?”

The actions and the words caught Judy by surprise and her heart sunk as she remembered that once, after a long shift together, Nick had thrown his coat over her “Don’t want you to get sick now do I Carrots” he had stated holding her close and wrapping his fuzzy tail around her to add extra warmth finishing with a wink before walking her all the way home.

Judy leaned into the coat her eyes going moist, Jack who had his hands on the Jacket lifted her face realising she was almost in tears.

“Is something wrong Ms. Hopps? Did I do something?” he asked as sober as he could.  

Judy was confused “No Jack you didn’t…” she began losing her answer, she didn’t know what to say, or think anymore and so she grabbed Jacks unbuttoned shirt without warning and pulled him in kissing him, “I don’t want to think of you anymore Nick” she convinced herself trying to run the thought of Nick from her head so he wouldn’t ruin such a perfect evening.

The Kiss was long and made Jacks ears shot up and he blushed, before composing himself and returning the kiss, before Judy pulled away “Come on, It’s cold”.

They reached her apartment and opened the door, both of them made for the bed falling over onto the bed Jack all but passing out and Judy not far behind. She rolled into him in a hug “Thanks for a good night” she expressed snuggling in tight.

“You’re welcome” replied Jack wrapping his arm around the small of her neck and pulling her into his arm nook. The whole room was spinning before both of them fell asleep.   

Judy was comfortable and warm, “Goodnight Nick” she murmured unaware, before falling asleep also.


Manly Monday: Beauty in Exile

There Are Two Types Of Rugby Players Whom I Find Incredibly Attractive…Locks And Scrum-Halves, Because Of The Height Of Each. Locks Are Often Well Over 6′5″, While Scrum-Halves Are Often 5′9″ Tall. Locks Are Lean And Strong, While Scrum-Halves Have Tight And Compact Physiques.

Matt Symons Of London Irish Is Incredibly Sexy. Standing 6′7″ Tall, He Is A Talented Egg Chaser In The Lineout, And He Possesses A Quiet Confidence, Not To Mention A Killer Smile.

Give Me Wood, Baby!




School Grade: Junior high school

This character is a combination of 臤 a non-general use character meaning both “hard” and “wise,” and 糸 thread. Here 臤 is a phonetic element expressing “entwine” while lending a meaning of “hard/compact.” Together with 糸 this gives “threads tangled in a tight not,” leading to the meanings of “tight/compact” in a broader sense. It can also be used figuratively to refer to a highly strung state of nerves. 

Date Night - Klaine [PG-13]

McKinley High’s resident skank Kurt Hummel decides to take his nerdy boyfriend out on a special date. (~3k / AO3 link)

Thanks to livwholikestv for betaing and everyone else who gave me their input and ideas on twitter. klainesupremist I hope this makes you smile because you deserve to smile always and at all times.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Could/have you mentioned anything about how Stage/Theatre/Stunt Combat experience doesn't equal actual fighting experience? I do modern fencing, and I've had many people assume it's the same as stage combat and I've just had to correct them. Someone in stage combat suggested doing a bout with me, and I had to explain that I'm trained to go for the head and she has no mask to protect it. Also, there's the fact that they're doing it for show, whereas I'm landing hits.

We mention it occasionally, when we recommend media. Stunt fighting, but especially stage combat with swords, isn’t real combat. It’s designed to look good and be visible, especially to those in the back rows, and that means the strikes are huge especially in context to traditional fencing. Real combat involves a lot of tight, compact, and minute movements because it wastes less energy. This is especially true of fencing, which you know. Fencing is direct, where one advances on a single line, searching for or creating openings. It’s also very fast and contains the recognition that someone could hurt if the proper precautions aren’t taken.

Whereas stunt combat is designed to be entertaining, and often involves a great deal of circular motion. Like I said, the moves are huge, with a great deal of swinging, and often leave massive openings in the defenses. The first fencing sequence between D’Artagnan and Athos in the BBC’s Musketeers is a perfect example of stage fencing. In that context, it works because stage fencing is as much a tradition in the swashbucker genre as the swashbucklers, but it’s not an example of good sword combat.

Stage combat is choreographed, it doesn’t actually involve striking at the body in a significant way. Instead, you clash the swords together because, again, it’s for effect and not intended to hurt. It’s meant to be safe. The days of overeager crowds leaping onto stage with sword in hand to defend the honor of the play’s wrongly accused or start drunken brawls are long behind us. This can lead to more lax behavior because, again, the weapon is treated as a prop (which it is) instead of a weapon. It’s “safe” in a way a real sword or a real gun isn’t. It also gives you a lot more room to screw around. There’s a punch taught in stage combat that you’ll see commonly used in movies, it’s a roundhouse punch where when done right will cause no injury if the receiver rolls their head slightly and it can be done at full speed. You’ll see it often in shows like Supernatural, for example, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Like most stage combat/stunt fighting it’s an illusion. Good enough that dogs can’t tell it’s not bacon, as it were. It’s there to convince the audience something dangerous is happening, but it rarely

What you’re dealing with, and you have my sympathies, is something every martial artist in the U.S. goes through at some point or another. They will go through it their entire lives, whether they quit or not. This is mainly because Hollywood is the only access most people have to understand the combat arts, you have first hand information and you know what’s accurate. However, there will still be those people who believe their experiences on the subject are more accurate than yours. Whether it’s through what they’ve been told or experienced second hand through media. People will argue with you passionately for what they believe in or refuse to take you at your word. Some may even judge you for it. Some may resent you for the reality ruining their fantasy.

You will be facing incredibly invasive and frustrating questions for the rest of your life. You will have these same conversations over and over and over again, and some people will get irritated with you when you get frustrated. (Even though you’re frustrated because you just had this conversation with the last three people.) All I can say is that it’s a part of life.

No answers either Starke or I can give will soothe that inevitable aspect or fix it. They won’t stop those questions from coming. What I can say is take comfort in the fact you’re not alone.

Tell the person who wants to fence you: “no”. Or, at least, no in context of “not unless you want to come down to my fencing club”. Get them a day pass, put them in proper gear, be under the supervision of others, and have at it. (But, you know, also be kind.)


St Marina (c.1640-1650. Francisco de Zurbarán (Spanish,1598-1664). Oil on canvas. Museo Carmen Thyssen Málaga.

Using fairly tight, compact brushwork, Zurbarán lends brilliance to the colours and sharpens the contours by silhouetting the body against a dark background with an intense source of light that emphasises the flesh tones. St Marina wears a wide-brimmed hat and an white chemise with a frilled collar, bodice, skirt and overskirt. She holds a long rod, possibly an allusion to her martyrdom, and a prayer book, a symbol of learning and loyalty to the Gospel.

to the visionary idiot who thinks “Red’s blood is pumping in Ressler’s veins” and it makes him the grandfather of Liz’s baby (I won’t tag bc I already blocked her and I will never ever unblock but some things still need to be said here)

1. first I need a minute to compose myself in the face of so much stupid and fail

2. Trump seems to have successfully infiltrated TBL fandom as well. Clearly nothing is sacred anymore.

3. okay

4. so

5. A blood transfusion cannot alter a person’s DNA, okay? They will carry the donor’s DNA for a limited period of time but eventually these “donor cells” die, the person begins producing their own blood cells again, and the “donor DNA” will completely disappear from their bloodstream. In other words, it’s Ressler’s blood pumping in Ressler’s veins, and he only has his DNA in his body. Red’s donation is no longer circulating in there in any shape or form.

6. Blood doesn’t determine a child’s DNA. DNA is inherited via the parents’ reproductive cells (aka sperms and eggs). Even when a pregnant mother receives blood transfusion and the donor blood ends up in the baby’s bloodstream, both the mother’s and her baby’s DNA will remain intact.

7. But if we ignore all that basic Earth biology and basic Earth logic and accept that

a) Red’s alpha male blood cells have beaten Ressler’s into permanent submission and
b) now his DNA is mixed in with Ressler’s, turning Ressler into a sort of chimera + relative (don’t ask how), and
c) Liz got pregnant from Ressler,

well, that actually makes Red the baby’s father too since his DNA was also carried by Ressler’s lucky swimmer that first slipped into Liz’s little baby oven on that fateful night which was apparently not remembered by either of them in subsequent episodes.

But wait bc this can get even better

8. Since our titular visionary is a blind slave to everything J.Boke says, it means the possibility of Red being Liz’s father is still a very real one for her. So real that she considers Lizzington incest. So… grab onto something… so Ressler carries Red’s DNA due to that magical transfusion, which means Liz could be pregnant from both her father and her brother/uncle (depending on how Ressler’s DNA was modified - did he become a simple chimera sort or Red’s son or brother or all of the above?), which means that Red is the father of Liz, Ressler, and also their double!incest!baby at the same time, but he’s also a kinda-sorta-grandfather (on both sides) to incest!baby, a father-in-law to Ressler and also to Liz (or maybe a semi-brother to Ressler - again depending on how Ressler’s DNA was modified - in which case Liz is also his sister-in-law, YAY it’s just one big, albeit v compact & tight-knit family even on a molecular level).

So are you feeling dizzy yet? Because I am. But this is not a theory at all. This is the arc, the story you could see unfolding before your very eyes if you actually LOOKED. AT. THE. FUCKING. CLUES. or clue. It’s all about the scarf, really. That’s the linchpin of the whole show. And some off-the-wall, out-of-this-world biology. This is what J.Boke told us already. I, for one, am so glad and grateful for the heads-up bc I’m def gonna need some time to prepare myself for this sublime journey into the Twilight Zone next month.

Perfect…Jordy Nelson!

Perfect Catch!

Perfect Guns!

Perfect Athleticism!

Perfect Butt!

Perfect Man!

Sexy As Hell, Baby!


Missing My Tight Ends!

With A Shout Out To Spandexjock, Here'sLooking Forward To Kyle Rudolph Tearing Up The Grid Iron This Fall For Minnesota!

Sexy As Hell, Baby!