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shy-forceghost · 17 hours

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How dare you not include the (equally confusing) paper title?

[transcription:] T. rex is Fierne, T. rex is Charismatic, T. rex is Litigious: Disruptive Objects in Affective Desirescapes

Published online by Cambridge University Press: 09 May 2024

Abstract: In this paper we present T. rex fossils as disruptive objects that can drastically influence the actions and reactions of humans that encounter them. We present a vision of the T. rex as being a key node within a web of human and object associations that ultimately produces, first, extreme desire in humans, and then a breakdown in human relationships resulting in disagreements, disputes, lawsuits, and the committing of crime. From there we bring these T. rex fossils into the concept of desirescape which sees a network of object/object and object/human reactions provoking irresistible desire in humans. We argue that this desire can push humans to violate law or social norms or, in several T. rex cases, sue each other. How then should we humans approach T. rex and other disruptive objects? Cautiously, and with the knowledge that these objects may be more powerful than we are.

Yates & Peacock, 2024.

#this is a real paper you all TnT

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shy-forceghost · 18 hours

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thinking about how like. as a kid growing up in the light-polluted suburbs, space was always somewhere else. it was in the eyepiece of a telescope, star clusters and the andromeda galaxy and the orion nebula (good luck seeing any other galaxies or nebulae from suburbia) all faint and fuzzy, and outside the eyepiece, nothing. just a handful of stars in a not-that-dark sky. it was either that or look up hubble pics

i knew, in theory, that the night sky was space. but in practice i found that hard to believe since the sky i could see barely resembled the wonders of the cosmos described to me in documentaries or books. that telescope eyepiece was like a gateway into another world where faint hints of these things really did exist, because they didn't exist in my sky

and then i started going to dark sky sites, and it's all just. there. it's real. you can just see the plane of our galaxy with its star clouds and dust lanes

one time, a friend and i stopped in the middle of nowhere in kansas on the way back from a road trip. it was the darkest and most remote night sky i've ever seen. she pointed to a fuzzy little cloud fairly close to the horizon, like a puff of steam rising from the spout of the teapot of sagittarius. it was the lagoon nebula. she also pointed out the andromeda galaxy, a distinct smear on the sky

not with a telescope, but with the naked eye. everything was just there! sure, it didn't lookk like hubble pics, but it wasn't just the night sky anymore - it really was space

i think one of the saddest things about light pollution is that we live in a time where humans have unprecedented knowledge about the universe and our place in it. we can look at features of the night sky and understand the immensity and significance of it all. you can look at the puff of steam in sagittarius and know that suns are being born there

but for most people, these facts are distant and irrelevant, because they can't see them in the sky above their heads, and i think that's a tragic loss for our species

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shy-forceghost · 2 days

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chipped

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shy-forceghost · 2 days

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Saw someone say "fanfic writers/fandom sees a characters aro/ace-ness as an obstacle instead of their sexuality" and yup. that about sums it up

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shy-forceghost · 2 days

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shy-forceghost · 2 days

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Me upon discovering an online game that helps you learn git: haha I've been using git for years now, I could skip ahead many levels, methinks hahaha no, no, I'll be humble and start on level 1

Me on level 5: You can do what??? There are commands for what???

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shy-forceghost · 3 days

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Hey anybody going to talk about rescued sacrificial maidens. Like yes a guy with a fuck off sword turned up and so you're not getting fed to the dragon/water creature/mountain spirit/vague embodiment of all things scary and you get to go back home, but is that really home? Your mom hugs you and your dad says he's so happy you're alive and you know that when they said they'll do anything to keep you safe they didn't really mean it. They have a feast prepared and you get to taste what they cooked for your funeral, help wash the dishes after. And it's selfish to think that between the whole village with everyone in it and you they wouldn't pick the lesser evil but it still leaves an emptiness in your chest, knowing exactly how much your life is worth. And the neighbors smile at you awkwardly and the neighbors' kids yell "hey! I thought you died!" because they don't know not to do that yet and maybe you did. Maybe you did.

And the hero with the fuck-off sword rode off into the sunset the way they always do but you're still here and you herd the cows by the cliff where you were tied up in your cleanest clothes waiting to not be alive anymore and sometimes you think that would be easier and when you don't come back one day, you can imagine it's a relief for everyone involved. Maybe you'll be the new thing to haunt the mountain, or maybe you'll follow down the road and listen for cries that sound like yours did. Either way, there's little left to fear. You know exactly how much your life is worth.

#!!!

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shy-forceghost · 3 days

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“I don’t know what my goals are, no. Thanks for asking.”

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shy-forceghost · 3 days

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shy-forceghost · 4 days

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One Shot - "One of Those Nights" Years after her service to the OCS ended, Beatrice sometimes struggled. Who better to comfort her wife than one Ava Silva?

Or

An exploration of what their life might have looked like after it all as they navigate mental health struggles, and aging, and loving eachother.

Ava rolls over in her -- their -- bed, only for her arm to fall soft to the now cool mattress beneath it where her very warm, very not memory foam, wife should be. Lately it's felt more and more like her bed, especially at this hour. An hour that Ava hardly needed to roll back over and look at her phone to confirm -- 0345 -- and ' yes Bea, will have my phone in bed, because how else am I supposed to know what time it is when you sneak out' she heaves a sigh.

Sad. Tired. Aching for her wife. Her wife who was struggling with ghosts that haunted and futures that never would come to pass.

Beatrice got like this a few times a year.

It was predictable. It was survivable . It was completely outside of her fault or control. But sometimes, sometimes something would trigger something in Beatrice, and God did Ava hate that word.

But it, according to the therapist, was the appropriate use actually.

It was less violent than a trigger pull. Not that pulling a trigger was violent - a mere bend of a finger a few centimeters, but what happened after certainly was. Beatrice knew that all too well.

And well, maybe come to think of it, it was exactly the right word.

Because Bea would see something or someone who maybe looked a little like Shannon on a hard day at work, or hear a song that Mary would make them all listen to on the way home from missions in the grocery store. Or any number of "annoyingly nostalgic happenstances" (Bea's words obviously).

Sometimes it was less of that sweet hurt only loving something like that could bring, and more to do with other parts of their former life. Maybe it was a quick startle that had Beatrice’s adrenaline spiking just the wrong way for a moment remembering one of those more violent times. A noise. A motion. A smell.

It wasn’t anything like Beatrice spiraling immediately into a fit of chest heaving breaths and frantic eyes. Though that happened occasionally at the beginning. No. Usually it looked like nothing, because that startle response had been trained out of Beatrice. But, like anyone who had ever spoken to her wife knew, Beatrice had a fucking brilliant brain, and that brain liked to think - well over think in these cases.

Hours later, Beatrice would be stuck on those thoughts. Memories. Regrets. And she would slip into missing them, or running through missions over and over. Unable to make the broken record of it all just stop.

So, it wasn’t immediate. Not like a bullet after a trigger. It was a slow, sometimes avoidable, creep toward the same end.

A bloodied soul that ached from the holes torn through it with more devastation as they traveled then when they first entered and scar tissue couldn’t ever really quite fill them the same.

Which then led to the not sleeping. The struggling to put thoughts to words to speech. The paralyzation between trying to put thoughts to feelings or feelings to thoughts.

To Beatrice's credit, she always got help. She reached out to her therapist. She tried her best to communicate with Ava. She talked to ‘Mother’ because calling her Suzanne never settled quite right with her, or Camilla or Lilith. She tried all the strategies she'd gained over the years to help. And they usually did, but there were always a few days where those bandages didn’t quite fit the proverbial bullet holes.

Today was one of those days.

KEEP READING

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shy-forceghost · 8 days

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you've gotta have friends who are older than you, not because you're a dumb kid, but because you'll be terrified of growing up otherwise

#hi pancake #you are that older friend for me #<3

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shy-forceghost · 8 days

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This is the reason I am so scared to get invested in queer shows now. It doesn’t matter if they have a strong fan base or have good reviews. Nothing is safe from getting cancelled and streaming services don’t even give them the courtesy of being able to wrap up the story. That is far from acceptable but it happens so often.

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shy-forceghost · 8 days

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