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She is not directly paid for her work to vet papers, she has been hit with legal action & death threats by scientists who hate that she's exposing them and their financial fraud, and she keeps at it every single day, combing through thousands of papers to make science more fair. Please consider supporting her!
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at some point in your life you will be boiling fruit, water, sugar, and lemon juice in a pot to make a syrup or jam. the instructions will tell you to simmer for a certain amt of time. your timer will go off and you will look at the pot and go, "hm, this doesn't look thick enough. maybe i'll let it go for another 10 minutes." this is the devil speaking. it's only so liquid right now because it is at boiling point. it will thicken when it cools down. learn from the follies of my youth and do not let this happen to you
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Log of a coniferous tree, probably Araucarioxylon arizonicum. The long-extinct species thrived during the Late Triassic period about 210-215 million years ago. This log has weathered out of the Chinle Formation. Petrified Forest National Park. Apache Co., Arizona.
you've all gotta stop acting like "overweight" is a gentle PC alternative for the word fat and not itself an assertion of the ontological wrongness of being large. Over What Weight Precisely
and it feels very much like a product of this thing where the majority of people cannot ever conceptualize fatphobia or fat politics as legitimate or really anything beyond a meanness/bullying issue that can be solved with a couple language tweaks and one plus size runway show a year. it's great that you know not to be actively vitriolic towards fat people, but if you're still calling us "overweight" and talking about the ""obesity epidemic"" and justifying our presence in the world only through the fact that losing weight and keeping it off is difficult so we should really be pitied instead of hated, you're still moralizing around our bodies and positing them as a problem!
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Despite him being our King Arthur, we don't really know a lot about Atlas! Gotta fix that!!!
Written for @genuaryjubilee as part of @ficwip's server events!
Week 4 - A Thing (and also a Person if 'one's relationship with one's past life counts LMAO)
Character: Atlas Koning
Project: Knight Lite
Words: 560
And finally, as always, to @bottlingsound!
+++
Excalibur is a heavy weight in his hand, and Atlas wonders how the fates conspired to give him the sword.
He had lived for years before it knowing that, in some past life, he was Arthur. Whatever that meant in this day and age — it never did him much good in the day to day. He had greater things to worry about than what some ancient, mythological British king would think about his actions.
But then Imogen had given him the sword.
Or the sword had always been there, tied to him, waiting for its opportunity to be wielded against the forces of darkness again, and the Lady of the Lake had merely given him the thread with which to unravel the distance between myth and reality.
And what use did he have for a sword?
It wasn’t going to help him weigh court cases, or solve systemic injustice. It made him feel worse, even more helpless than he did before.
All this power, and he couldn’t use it to help anyone.
It’s fucking Excalibur, and he couldn’t even tell Liliya about it. Not that he told her about the whole King Arthur thing, because, well, who would believe that. He wouldn’t have believed it until suddenly: he did.
And he met others who did. Who could do things like magic and summon swords to prove that it wasn’t just a bunch of adults thinking they were reincarnated knights.
Atlas never had an overactive imagination. He considers himself a deeply logical person. It took a very long time to be logical about being able to summon a sword into his hand with just a thought.
He once asked, “Aren’t I supposed to pull it from a stone to make it valid?” and Imogen had snorted so hard coffee came out of her nose.
“That’s not a question King Arthur would ask,” Siobhan said while the other woman recovered. “You already know the answer to that.”
After he thought about it for a moment, he did. It was an incredibly disconcerting feeling to have knowledge he knows he didn’t know previously.
Caliburn is from the stone, back in ye olde Arthurian days. It belonged to his brother Kay. To Arthur’s brother; Atlas doesn’t have a brother.
Excalibur is from the Lady of the Lake, who sat across from him at a little cafe, mopping up the last of her spilled latte with a napkin.
So he never told Liliya all through their marriage — though she had met Imogen, Siobhan, and Robert.
The sword remained a heavy weight on his heart, a useless instrument in his fight for good, a burden of a crown that would not do him any good.
Eventually he learns how to wield the sword. Eventually he gets more knights — young kids who look up to him for guidance in more than just what it means to be born again defenders of a kingdom that doesn’t exist.
And, always, he wondered just why Excalibur chose him.
“Excalibur does not choose,” Alonso told him once. “This has always been you. Think of it as your dedication to your people, your duty to your community, that made you remember that Excalibur has always been yours.”
Atlas grips the hilt, hefts the sword, and feels the weight of responsibility across his shoulders, and wonders if this is how Arthur ever felt.
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