#So important that had it not been for it we might not be independent

[headspace-hotel]

facts about The Fear, after 20 years of life with her

The Fear is NOT:

an intruder, invader, or some other entity from "outside" You

inappropriate, wrong, or incorrect

a responsibility

a punishment

"irrational" or otherwise able to be understood through a relationship to "rationality"

an "inaccurate" representation of reality

The Fear IS:

an innate part of you

extra-rational—she exists outside and completely independent from "rationality" and does not respond to being judged according to that lens

self-love—her purpose is to protect you and keep you safe

self-sufficient—fear is a 100% whole, complete entity that doesn't "represent" or "reflect" something else

earnest—fear is always a 100% real experience that is exactly as it is felt, and, needing no comparison or reference to any external reality, it is not "dishonest" or "inaccurate"— it asserts a claim about only itself

subversive [not quite the word I am looking for but it will have to do]— is not necessarily beholden to social and cultural norms of what should be feared, how much, and how you should respond. She does not stop existing in the absence or suppression of vocabulary to describe her.

a demand for care— she does not just communicate to you but to the community you are part of; she calls attention to an obligation that this community has toward you, to make sure that you are safe within it and that your experiences are heard and understood.

yeah, so, i've had severe anxiety for my whole life and the way it's been treated and dealt with, and the way I've been taught to understand it, has really fucked me up so I am trying to lay the groundwork for understanding it differently

I think it's pretty fucked up that we're taught to see anxiety as deceptive or inaccurate. Now, obviously the images or projections in my fearful thoughts do not usually "reflect reality," but I have come to see this as...not particularly important?

Teaching an anxiety sufferer to restructure their thoughts to dismiss and contradict "irrational" fear is, in my opinion, the same as teaching a chronic pain sufferer to restructure their thoughts to dismiss and contradict pain with no clear physical source. You might as well speak of "irrational" pain, and pain has the same relationship to rationality that fear has.

"Irrationality" is a quality assigned to fear that is judged by an outside observer, or by the collective cultural biases and hang-ups of a society, as not appropriate to a given situation. This is total fucking nonsense and we should be talking about that, because...well, the first reason is that it implies some kind of fixed standard for what fear ultimately is and isn't for. i like to tell people to watch one of those Coyote Peterson videos where he's going to get a tarantula hawk wasp to sting him, because he's obviously having a strong physical fear response, even though he knows it won't kill him. Is it "rational" to fear suffering and not just death? How much suffering? Sit with that one a little while.

The second reason, which is even more convincing, is that the "rational" brain is not consulted at any point, ever, when a person feels afraid. It's just a response. The fear response is not routed through the conscious, sapient, reasoning brain. And thank God, because if we needed to hear back from an upstairs executive before we could decide whether to run from a lion, our species would be extinct.

Techniques like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy were absolute fucking shit at making my life any better, but fantastic at wrecking my ability to identify my own emotions, because Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for anxiety basically amounts to trying to brainwash yourself into thinking you don't feel the emotions that you do. It's a really neat way to develop bizarre psychosomatic symptoms and start experiencing anxiety through constant body pain, swollen lymph nodes, and digestive issues.

For an institution that pathologizes having "alters," psychiatry sure loves to encourage a suffering person to view normal and ultimately good parts of themselves as distinct, intruding entities to be shoved in a closet somewhere.

And yes. Fear is ultimately a good part of you, a part of you that loves you.

What began to set me free was feeling that acid terror and sickness and rage course through my body and realizing—really realizing—that I was being illuminated with this ancient, powerful force driving me to LIVE.

I want us to make it. I want you to live.

And you know what, I want me to live too.

I abandoned the doctrine of calming down—Lord knows it had never worked anyway—and started really just exploring and existing in the Fear.

How did that feel? Bad. Very very very very very bad and really not productive or helpful at all initially. Which was unavoidable. Necessary. She had been frantically clawing to communicate with me for so long, and I had been shutting her away, silencing her, resenting her presence in my psyche. I started trying to show gratitude toward the signals my body gave me. I started trying to show gratitude toward her—and i guess the Fear was a Her now, this just seemed more respectful.

And it seemed like nothing happened, but several things happened.

I stopped searching for validation. That was a big one. At some point I just...stopped needing a "reason" or justification for the fear I felt (trauma???? neurodivergence???? neurodivergence trauma????) and the fact that I experienced it became completely sufficient and satisfying to me. So much guilt and confusion disappeared.

I also became steadily more confident about my own boundaries, particularly in regards to recovery.

It's awful now that I think about it, but I think I felt this sense of almost moral obligation towards "recovery," as if I needed to "overcome fear" to be Courageous and Virtuous. It made me feel crushing guilt to feel any hesitation about this.

But then this started to change. It became more real to me that was the only person affected by the steps I did or didn't take toward recovery, and there was no moral dimension to it. A therapist couldn't put me in a box I wouldn't willingly go into.

Freedom from these judgmental frameworks is really important to me. I think that I always hated the idea of getting "better" because it seemed like "better" would mean just getting better at submitting to things I was afraid of while everything felt just as bad as it always did on the inside.

And on some level—even though I could never put it into words at the time—I violently hated the idea of "recovery" from some of my fears because it seemed like the ultimate denial of agency. I didn't want to "become okay with it"—the possibility felt dehumanizing. It felt awful.

And I realize now that this is because The Fear represented something I needed to have a right to. Many of my most life-destroying fears centered around things being done to my body, and if I could have pressed a button and been no longer afraid, I wouldn't have, even though it would have spared me so much suffering, because...I needed it to be okay to want agency over my body. I needed it to be right. The Fear, in this case, was a demand that my body be treated as sacred.

I realized that there were many cases where The Fear was a territorial claim of sorts, a demand that certain needs be honored and met—She needs this. This is FUCKING non-negotiable.

And it really...prompted me to look backward on my life and see The Fear differently: not as a responsibility I had failed to shoulder (me?? a little child??? responsible?? Responsible for being brave, when every day felt like facing a firing squad?????) but as a collective responsibility

Because I was not alone in those memories—I was surrounded by adults that saw me suffering, and often dismissed, ignored or ridiculed it. The Fear grew larger and larger; why?—to protect me. Because teachers, nurses, doctors, and camp counselors did not do any of the thousand thousand things they could have done to make that little girl feel safe. Because my well-meaning parents praised me when I was "brave" but I, a little kid, literally couldn't communicate how awful it always felt.

The Fear was not there to torture me. The Fear was and is doing her best to keep me safe. It's not wrong, there's no need for guilt. It just is.

It doesn't feel good. But maybe one day it will feel better.

#anxiety #mental illness #psych critical #autism

[tarotwithavi]

North node and what you're here for

North node represents your destiny, what your here for and your spiritual purpose.

For entertainment purpose only.

North node in 1st house : you're here to find yourself. You might have a hard time understanding yourself and might not know basic things about yourself. Like when you were born etc. You're here to serve a spiritual purpose and help other find themselves as well as yourself.

North node in 2nd house : you're here to find wealth and prosperity and this doesn't always mean material wealth or material abundance. You're here to find the true meaning behind wealth and here to make your own meaning of wealth orwhat you think real wealth is.

North node in 3rd house : you are here to learn how to communicate your thoughts and feelings. You might have neglected your thoughts and didn't communicate well in your past life or even in your younger days. You're also here to help other express themselves too.

North node in 4th house : You're here to find your soul family too and to clear the debt you guys have together. Most females with this placement became house wife and males look after their family most of the time. It can also mean that your main focus is going to be family. Or creating a home environment is important for you.

North node in 5th house : you are here to express authentic self. You might have had to life under constant pressure of what you should be Or you should do in your past life. You might have been a royal in your past life. So to say you are here to be what you want to be .

North node in 6th house : you are here to provide service and be helpful to people . You might have been to secretive or might have been seriously ill in your past life. So as a result of that you're here to provide help to people. You might work as a social worker too.

North node in 7th house : you are here to learn about relationships and partnership. You might been too much independent or you didn't have much relations with people or simply didn't care to carry them. So as a result you are here to learn about relationship with others.

North node in 8th house : in your past life you might abused your power or you were abused by someone powerful, so to balance that out , you are here to learn about power and transform yourself. You are here to learn how powerful you are and learn to use that power.

North node in 9th house : you are here to find beauty of life and your own philosophy of life. You might like to write poems or songs yourself. You might even question what's real and what's not. This placement can also make you not believe in God.

North node in 10th house : you are here for fame and to make name for yourself! In your past lives you might have been too much involved with your family that you didn't have a name yourself or no identity so to say. You might even be know for your family and not yourself.

North node in 11th house : you are here to be a part of the community that makes changes for the best of humanity. In you past lives you might have neglected you responsibilities as a member of society. So to balance things out, in this life you will help humanity/society to became better.

North node in 12th house : you are here to be humble and let go of your ego. One of the main lessons of your life would be to not let your ego get to you. In your past life you might have been egoistic. And we all know we gotta balance things. You are also here to reconnect with spirituality.

Masterlist

#astrology #north node #astro notes #astro observations #past life #astrology and tarot #tarot and astrology #astro community #saturn astrology #venus astrology #vedic astrology #pluto astrology #western astrology #astro placements #pluto aspects #horoscope #astrology notes #north node in houses #vedic notes #north node in 1st house #north node in 2nd house #North node in 3rd house #north node in 4th house #north node in 5th house

[caffeineforbucky]

Cruel Summer

Summary: After a two-year absence from your family, you return home for your father's birthday and unexpectedly reconnect with his friend, John Price. A serendipitous attraction emerges, leading to a challenging summer.

Pair: 'Captain' DBF!John Price x AFAB!Reader

WC: 2,008

Warnings: Minors DNI 18+, Age gap. Reader is 26 and John is 37, swearing, longing, some fluff...? Lemme know if I missed any

A/N: I fear it's been a minute since I wrote anything for this blog. This fic might be a few parts. It's been sitting in my drafts for freaking months and I was too excited to get the first part out.

BY CLICKING KEEP READING, YOU ARE CONFIRMING THAT YOU'RE 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"Come on, honey," Your mother's voice resonates in the emptiness of your small kitchen, and the sting in your eyes makes it hard to focus, vision blurring with a haze of murkiness.

With the heel of your palm, you brush away the lamentation on your lashes, heedless in your movements, as you shove a couple of hoodies, books, and other insignificant items into a box—a box of your ex's things. The things he left behind.

"Your dad hasn't seen you in two years. His birthday is coming up in a couple of days, and the only thing he talks about missing his little girl."

That manages to make you smile, if only for a moment. A fleeting glimpse of happiness amidst your heartbreak. "Ryder's there. Dad can have his little boy there instead."

Ryder—your older brother. He was only five years older than you, but while growing up together, you two were inseparable. There was the occasional bickering and fighting, but like all siblings, you grew apart.

He had his life, and you had yours.

"I can hear your dumbass, you know that, don't you?" He tuts through the speaker of your cell phone, and it causes you to snort. He was already with the rest of your family since flying in the night before. Ryder's remark is met with hushes from your mom before she playfully shoves him to continue the phone call with you. Just like old times.

"I don't know, ma..." You mumble, trying your bestest to make it sound like you aren't crying. You knew she worried about you. More than you would've liked, but she was your mother. My job is to worry. She would say. "I've got a lot going on over here and—"

She cuts you off before you can finish.

"Please? I will have to tell your dad when he asks, and he'll start crying and... just come. Even if it's for a day or two. He really wants to see you, and so do I. I miss my baby."

A heavy sigh escapes you, letting your face fall into your palms to wipe the rest of your tears with the tips of your fingers. As badly as you want to refuse, the guilt of not seeing your family in so long starts to creep in, trying to gnaw its way into your conscience.

"Okay, Mom," You finally relent after a couple minutes of silence. You knew how much your parents missed you, and you'd let the lust for independence take you away from the people you loved most, and that was something to feel guilty about. "I'll come."

Your mother's excited squeal makes you flinch, and for some reason, her felicity causes a few more tears to slip down your cheeks, even if you manage a soft chuckle. "Oh, I'm so excited. Your dad is going to flip. I gotta make up your room and—Ryder! I'll talk to you soon, baby. We can't wait to see you."

There were a plethora of responsibilities John had to fulfill when he agreed to attend his best friend’s birthday. He had a job; a task force to forefront. A war to conquer. Nevertheless, he was here, in the backyard of said friends' beach house.

He was used to noise. The bustling crowds of civilians, obnoxious music, and the occasional yelps of children chasing each other around. It all resonated as white noise; his ears filtering out what wasn’t of import.

The smell of grilled hamburger patties permeated the air, his eyes focused on the finesse of each flip.

The tap of his fingers drummed rhythmically against the neck of his beer bottle, smiling and nodding as your father went on and on about his endeavors during his time in the Army.

A broken record; really. The stories weren’t new, at least, not to him—having been a part of those tales himself. The hardships and challenges of having to partake in such horrific adventures. If you can even call them that. Your father had such a colorful vernacular.

John’s eyes looked up in a lazy sweep as he heard the sound of your mother’s voice emitting as the back door slid open. As he took another swig of his beer, there you were.

The man almost choked. The beer comes back up in a fit of coughs, earning a few swats on the back from your father.

“You okay, John?” Your father eyed him humorously, chuckling as he flipped a couple more burgers.

John couldn’t speak, solely nodding as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, mindful of drying off his facial hair.

Fucking hell…

Clad in a cream-colored sundress, every dip and curve of your body was accentuated, the swell of your assets making his mouth water. You were an absolute dream. A fantasy he couldn’t imagine ever thinking of. You were stunning.

He let his eyes trace the outline of your body, from the cherry pattern on your dress to the pretty little red ballet flats you had on.

John had prided himself in being devout to his career. Nothing came between him or it. In his thirty-seven years of being alive, he never once tried to settle down or even dabble in a relationship for fear of never giving enough or never being present. He’d have the occasional fuck, but that was once in a while.

His life wasn’t promised; not in the way he had any control over. Then again, who does?

For the first time since joining the Army, he thought of marriage, and he immediately shook that thought away.

He nudged your father, making him turn toward the profile of his face. With his hand still wrapped around the neck of the bottle, he gestured towards you. “Is that—“

“Ah, there she is!” Your father rejoiced, setting down the spatula as you headed towards where they both stood, your mother trailing behind. John stood idle as he watched you move into your dad’s arms with a semi-forced smile.

“Hey, Dad.” You greet him, letting him rock you back and forth in a tight embrace. “Happy birthday.” Regardless if you’d arrived the day before, your dad was still excited that you were here.

"Thank you, pumpkin."

John watched the interaction from the corner of his eye, a strange feeling tugging at his gut. You were no longer that little girl he remembered—you were a woman now. He took another swig of his beer, curiosity and desire brewing within him.

Once your father had released you from his bear hug, your eyes met with John's. A surprised expression graced your face, recognition flashing across your eyes as if you had completely forgotten that he could also be there. "John?" You questioned, your voice softer than he remembered. 'That you?" There was a hint of a tremble, but it was quickly masked by a polite smile.

"Hey there, sweetheart." He greeted, his voice firm yet gentle. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander over you once more, drinking in the sight of you. It was almost as if he was seeing you for the first time. "Aye. It's me."

You chuckled softly, shaking your head in disbelief. "I can't believe it's been fifteen years. You haven't changed much, you know."

John couldn't help but chuckle at your comment, feeling a sense of warmth spreading through him. Fifteen years…

You had to be around twenty-six now.

"I would say the same about you, but—" he replied, letting his gaze linger on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "You've grown up beautifully."

The compliment seemed to take you by surprise, your cheeks flushing a soft tinge. You quickly turned your gaze away from him, focusing on your father who was grilling the patties. "Thanks, John." You muttered, the unease in your voice not going unnoticed by him. Neither did that color on your cheeks.

You could recall the little girl crush you used to have on him all those years ago, when it was adolescent, innocent, and pure. Something to laugh off because it was cute.

But now, standing here as an adult, the feelings that stirred within you when John's gaze lingered on you were anything but innocent. It was a confusing, frightening, yet somehow thrilling realization—one that you knew you would have to confront sooner or later.

Your mother, who had been watching the entire exchange with the sharp eyes of a hawk, nudged you gently, whispering something about helping her out in the kitchen. You took the opportunity to escape, excusing yourself from the men's company. As you turned to leave, you felt John's eyes on you, following your retreating figure. A shiver ran down your spine, but you forced yourself to ignore it.

After you'd left, an awkward silence fell between the two men. John took another swig of his beer, trying to shake off the strange feelings that your presence had stirred up within him. The tension was palpable, a thick fog of unspoken words and hidden desires. It wasn't like him to be so affected, and yet, there was something about you that left him in a state of bewilderment.

His gaze lingered on the spot where you had stood moments ago, the image of your flushed cheeks and the softness of your voice etched into his mind. He raked a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping his lips. This was dangerous territory. He knew it but seemed powerless to pull himself away from the allure.

Your father, completely oblivious to his friend's internal struggle, continued flipping burgers, a contented smile on his face. He hummed a tune under his breath, his eyes bright with happiness. Every now and then, he would glance towards the kitchen door, awaiting your return.

"John," He started, his voice pulling John out of his reverie. "You've gone quiet on me, mate." Your father’s jovial tone contrasted starkly with the turmoil raging within John.

John managed a weak smile, forcing out a chuckle. "Just lost in thought, I guess," he replied, not meeting your father's gaze. He took another sip of his beer, the cold liquid doing little to ease the heat creeping up his neck.

Your father simply laughed, shaking his head. "You've always been a bit of a daydreamer, haven't you?" He said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Just don't go getting lost in your thoughts. We've got a party to enjoy."

John nodded, forcing himself to focus on the present, on the sizzle of the burgers, the sound of laughter from the crowd...anything but his best friend's daughter. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts were preoccupied with you.

As the sun began to set, the party continued in full swing. The laughter and chatter grew louder, the music more upbeat, and the atmosphere more festive. But amidst the sea of faces, John's gaze kept drifting back to you.

Your laughter echoed in his ears, your smile imprinted in his memory. Every now and then, he would catch glimpses of you, your silhouette illuminated by the setting sun, your face glowing with genuine happiness. You were like a beacon of light, drawing him in, and he found himself unable to resist.

You were everywhere he looked, in every corner he turned. With each passing moment, the pull he felt towards you grew stronger, more potent. It was like a magnetic force that seemed impossible to resist. It scared him, baffled him, yet excited him in a way he had never experienced before.

He watched as you interacted with the guests, your laughter filling the air. Your eyes sparkled with mirth, your cheeks flushed with excitement. You were the life of the party, and he couldn't help but be captivated by you.

And as he watched you in the warm candlelight of your father's birthday cake, your smile wide as you sang along with your family, he knew he was in trouble. Because for the first time in a long time, he found himself wanting something he knew he couldn't have.

You.

Oh god. It's so embarrassing how long this took to actually write. Please please lemme know what ya'll think. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Should I continue this? ;) Enjoyxx

#john price x reader #john price smut #captain john price #captain johnathan price #captain john price x female reader #john price #john price cod #johnathan price #cod mw22 #cod x reader #age g4p #captain price #price cod #captain john price smut #dbf!price #afab reader

[ratrrriot]

How do you feel when people call Amy a stalker?

People can call her what they want, however…

Do i think it's fair to call Amy a stalker?

In some of the games? Yes, and even in some of the ones she wasn't a stalker per-se, she still showed possessive and obsessive tendencies. So i get where it comes from...

Generally? No. Her character originally wasn't supposed to be a harasser and she sure isn't one in the present. the franchise has been clearly trying to do better for her these past few years.

I think Amy's changing characterization is an interesting topic of discussion, so even though i technically already answered your question i'll take this chance and proceed to talk about my fave for way longer than i need to :).

Note: This is just my take on Amy and the way i understand her ENGLISH PORTRAYAL. I won't be talking about her japanese one which would deserve its own analysis.

Sorry for any writing mistakes in advance (english is hard) and feel free to correct me if i'm factually wrong about something (i wrote this thing mostly from memory so i imagine i must be.)

Amy has changed A LOT troughout the games and has been in the hands of many different writers across Sonic media ,so when talking about her is important to be specific about what game,series or comic we are talking about (and language),and while i know that some of you might not agree and i respect that, i think that -looking at the subtleties- Amy has had at least 6 different portrayals through the course of the games. That being said,i believe the idea that she is a stalker comes especifically from the characterization they started giving her around 2003

Originally,Amy was envisioned as a sweet 12-year-old kid who had a huge unreciprocated crush on her idol and a passion for fortune-reading ,but who wasn't exactly much of a heroine herself. In the classic era,her place in the narrative was just to serve as a damsel in distress and a cute,funny detail. Ofc,in comics and animated shorts for games like Origins, we have gotten more content of classic Amy being fully independent and capable of defending herself (even more with the upcoming playable mode for her in Origins Plus), but i think we can all see how such aspects of her character weren’t included at the time she was created (only exception being Sonic Fighters)

Especifically in the adventure era (AKA the birth of modern Amy) they gave Amy her iconic strong,compassionate,romantic personality and an interest/love for adventure (and her sassy attitude ofc). She's outspoken,stubborn,brave and honest. I also want to point out that in this first portrayal ,her love for Sonic feels more like innocent childish idolization than an obsession and that her character doesn't revolve exclusively around it (she will stand in his way if she doesn't think what he does is right). Tbh i think she's incredibly funny,cool and lovable,

They slowly started planting the seeds for her character to stop being a "damsel in distress" by making her playable and defeat ZERO all on her own at the end of SA1,then also being playable in Sonic advance and helping Sonic get out of prison in SA2 (and tagging along for the rest of the adventure). In all these games,her character revolves around empathy,optimism and kindness. The way she protects the flicky since the moment she finds it,how she defends Gamma from Sonic and the iconic moment in SA2 where she convinces Shadow to help save earth are all great examples.

THEN, in Heroes , they decided to try something new with her taking her confidence and sassy attitude to a whole other level. Giving her the chance to be a fully-fleshed hero who didn't need rescuing anymore. She became independent and the leader of her own team of friends who she wanted to help. I love this Amy cause she feels really strong,determined and empowered without losing her peppiness,silliness,positivity and kindness. Her flaws are also especially endearing to me: How much of a wild kid she is,How even if she means well, she relies way too much in brute force, How she has trouble getting out of her own head, etc. She really feels just as confident and energic as Sonic,but just like him,you can tell she has a huge heart.

HOWEVER, as much as i love how they made her strength and bravery shine in this game, Heroes was the game that gave birth to the idea that Amy is willing to chase and even fight Sonic just to insist that they should marry (in SA2 she did follow him to the prison but it was only to help him and tag along in the adventure).

Ofc this was supposed to be comedic and to be seen as childish,harmless behavior- I say this because the rest of the characters,including Sonic himself,don't seem to take it seriously- but what was supposed to be seen as an endearing flaw at the time, would rapidly mute into what's probably Amy's worst portrayal ,as the writers turned it into harassment for the next mainline games (Ignoring Shadow the hedgehog where she is the same as in heroes and only has a brief appearance.)

Before i go into Battle,i just want to say that the definition of stalker according to google is “a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention.” A definition that definitely did not apply to her before Heroes,but that i can't deny that does apply to Amy for the next few games:

In Battle, Amy is suddenly written as aggresive and self-centered. All her compassion and empathy from the adventure era is gone, intimidating people (even Cream) and demanding information from them from the get-go. Of course she does a few good things throughout the game too,like take care of Emerl and such,but she still mainly uses him for her benefit (calories counter and emerald radar). Right off the bat,at the start of her storyline she insists on searching for Sonic even when she herself assumes he is hiding from her -which implies she knows what she's doing is worth hiding for- and tries to justify her behavior by saying that Sonic actually loves her and that he is being “ just shy “ or that “ he got cold feet”- while others characters react in a way that implies that's obviously not the case and that her behavior is worrysome..

I think it's important to mention that before Battle, we hadn’t gotten a single line of dialogue that implied that Amy tought that her behavior could be hurtful for Sonic, nor did she ever threaten anyone at all unless it was self defense. She knew he didn’t reciprocate her feelings and was actively trying to make him fall for her anyways,sure, but we gotta remember that while the canon ages might have been scrapped recently, at the time Modern Amy was created they were still very much canon and you can tell they had them in mind when writing these characters. Amy was supposed to be 12 ,so it makes sense that she didn't understand why Sonic wouldn’t accept her affection. She idolized him and misinterpreted the fact that he always was protecting her as possible romantic interest,but never actually imposed anything on him. The worst thing she ever did to him was wanting to hug him without consent,and again, the games implied that she clearly didn't realize such a thing wasn't ok. Sonic also didn't seem to want to hurt her feelings so while he did run away and expressed being annoyed by her he never explicitly told her to stop. I actually think that if he had sat her down and made it clear to her that what she was doing was truly bothering him, The Amy from the adventure era would have stopped, but i doubt he cared enough to do that honestly (after all ,in his recap screens it is implied that what truly bothers him about Amy being near him is not her crush,but that he thinks shes exposed to danger.)

BUT in Battle and for the next three games,Amy doesn’t seem to be written as a 12-year-old who mistakes admiration for love anymore. This is where the writers started to portray her as someone who is clearly still young and definitely childish but not innocent. Her whole character revolves around harassing Sonic and using her strength to intimidate others, and don't get me wrong,I like that Amy gets angry easily!! i like that she isn't afraid of a fight,that she complains a lot, and that she isn't peaceful. After all,those are important parts of who she is. But Battle!Amy is on a whole other level: she gets mad at her friends just because they don't agree with everything she does or says. It's not about having a strong personality anymore,she's just generally aggressive. For the next few games she and Sonic can't have one normal conversation that isn't Amy imposing her own wishes over him and him trying to get away from her, so it's hard to believe she wouldn't realize that what's she's doing is wrong nor accidental as we were supposed to before. This time It just feels like she is deciding to ignore the signs.

This continued in advance 3 ,where she literally threatens him with her hammer just cause he shows signs of not being interested in spending time with her when they meet, Then in rush she becomes possesive and jealous the second he mentions Blaze and also seems to treathen him with the hammer in the credits scene because he is running from her hug.

They changed the direction of her characterization again after Rush. The best way i can describe the Amy that is present in Riders,06,etc is one that has two very polarized sides to her personality. On one side,she is a peppy,sweet,over enthusiastic and romantic girl, on the other she is a pretty intimidating one with an obsession with Sonic and very fiery temper. However,contrary to her last portrayal,she is more polite and actually asks Sonic if she can come with him various times,doesn't harass him and doesn't threaten people simply cause they don't agree with her anymore, but she still doesn't seem to have any sense of boundaries,still follows Sonic without permission sometimes and still clearly has no consideration for his personal space. Another thing about this Amy is how her flirting is really intense, and even if she isn't as aggressive as the Amy from Battle,if someone messes a bit with her she doesn't hesitate to resort to intimidation or take her hammer out.

She still gets violent towards Sonic sometimes,but what's different from her last characterization is that instead of doing so merely because he doesn't show romantic interest in her ,its mostly because he doesn't follow on his promises (end of Black Knight) or shows up to save her “properly” (Referring to 1- that scene in Riders where he blows eggman -who had caught Amy- away with wind and she chases him with her hammer because “how could he not think that would hit her too “ and 2- the one in Zero Gravity where he arrives late to save her and she playfully throws him a few fists saying that “it took him long enough!”). I don't think she's necesarily right to do that but i don't consider it to be problematic either, since by that point the games had strongly implied that there was a non-spoken agreement between the two that he'll always show up to save her and the whole thing feels more playful than anything else. Mostly because Sonic seems to be fine with her being around again, as he never really denies her acussations or runs away when she gets mad,and even tries to explain himself to her.

So yeah,this Amy is one of the more famous -and infamous- ones,as her negative and positive qualities are more balanced than the one from Battle. However,i personally don't like her much as there's almost no focus on the empathetic/compassionate side of her character that was so prominent in the adventure era and ,even if i wouldn’t call this version of her a Stalker , she's still is way too obsessive and possesive for my liking. The writing for her character is still pretty much completely based on being attracted to Sonic, to the point that In 06 she tells Silver that, if she had to, she'd “choose Sonic over the world".

In Sonic Chronicles , Amy gets a lot of dialogue. She gets jealous in a scene but its not as bad as in Rush and she tries to make Sonic jealous by inventing a fake boyfriend (terrible trope) but her levels of aggressiveness are up to the player's treatment of her. I am ,however , mentioning this game because of a scene in specific near the final section in which Amy is scared they might die and aks Sonic if she can have a moment with him. She then tries to have a serious conversation and politely asks if he cares about her or if he likes her at all. if the player chooses to make Sonic say he does care for her she is legitimately surprised and thankful. Idk what happens If he rejects her cause i haven't been able to find any recordings of that and i never owned this game,but i'll assume that her reaction won't be too bad considering she is asking in the first place(?) feel free to tell me if you know…

This portrayal of Amy is still present in Unleashed (2008) ,in which Amy is there to cheer/support Sonic on throughout the game and to serve as an important indicator that Sonic is quite self conscious of his looks when he's a werehog. She is generally very sweet towards him in this game (especially when she shows no rejection towards his werehog form,which is a detail i adore), even if she does get annoyed when he doesn't pay as much attention to her as he does to Chip or reciprocate her feelings.

A good example is how, before the last temple ,she asks him if he'd like to go on a date with her after everything is over. If you choose the positive dialogue option she is ,again, positively surprised and thankful. If you make him say no she complains about how he's being mean, but doesn't insist on it and just accepts it.

In Free Riders (2010) ,Amy just generally acts extremely out out of character (like,she doesn't even fit into Battle's portrayal). It really feels like someone who didn't know anything about the character wrote her, so for the sake of the pink hedgie let's ignore it and go back to talking about portrayal 4.

I already mentioned her brief apparition in Black Night and there's nothing worth mentioning about her in Generations so i'll skip them.

This portrayal ended in Lost World (2013),In which they toned down Amy as a character in general,leaving out all of her flaws and iconic traits out. She feels plain and her strong personality,confidence,sass,energy,etc all seem to be completely gone. She's just sweet and that's it . For some reason there's a scene where she literally tries to confess to Sonic and is cut off before she can finish,which is very funny considering it had never been treated as a secret before??? it really goes to show how hard they were trying to pull some kind of reboot on her. Fortunately,this characterization was only a two-game-thing (She is just as plain in Forces (2015)) so i'll put it in the same bag as the Free riders one and we'll leave it at that.

After Lost world came Boom (2014) ,and then we got the most recent change of Amy's personality,which we all know has had a mixed reception from the fandom. Originally people thought that this Amy would stay just in the Boom universe ,but this personality has been showing up in the mainline games for a while now,like in Team Sonic Racing (2019) and Frontiers (2021).

This Amy feels older than any of the ones that came before her. She kept the sass,the love for romanticism,the positive attitude,the confidence and the strenght but her bad temper and over enthusiasm are gone,as she is generally more calm,less energetic and not childish at all. Most importantly,this Amy is extremely emotionally intelligent,as the rest of characters seem to look for her help and advice constantly ( to the point that she has been given the "therapist friend" title by the fandom and is even referred as "the nice one" by Eggman himself ). Another interesting thing about this Amy is that she doesn't flirt with Sonic anymore,In fact, she barely expresses her liking for him (She does so a bit more in Japanese chz the characterization varies) and Sonic seems completely comfortable with this version of her around.

A lot of people say that this version of her is out of character and I completely understand where that comes from, but i must disagree because this characterization of Amy is the first one since the adventure era that focuses on her compassion/empathy rather than on her crush on Sonic, which combined with her intelligence,makes her not out of character,just the most emotionally mature Amy to date instead. I actually think that if the og modern Amy had grown up,this is the kind of personality she would’ve developed while becoming an adult (although she isn't supposed to be one). A good argument to defend this point would be that one Egg-memo you can buy through the fishing minigame in Frontiers where Eggman talks about how Amy has "come a long way" and how it took her some time "to find herself" and get out of Sonic's shadow.

Only problem i have with this Amy is that i wish she was more flawed and bubbly,mostly cause she can come off as very plain from time to time and way too mature. She is a bit too perfect for my taste. I'd like her to mess up more,to not always be so smart,to be more impulsive,a little bit more clumsy,fiery and wild,just so she could have some more of the charm of the original,y'know?

Before i talk about her more recent Videogame portrayal (TMoSTH) i want talk about IDW Amy:

in IDW, all of Amy's flaws and positive traits from past games are balanced pretty well: she is flawed and relatable and can mess up a bit sometimes because of her impulsivity,but she's emotionally and strategically inteligent, optimistic and incredibly kind. She is a great fighter and leader,but also a wonderful friend who offers emotional support. She has a strong personality, lots of sass and can be very aggressive and intimidating towards her enemies, but not any less of an empathetic and compassionate person because of that. Her strength and confidence are pillars for her character instead of nonsensical anger,but she still shows self doubt and fear from time to time. She is energic, idealistic and still a romantic,but not obsessive nor possesive. peppy but emotionally intelligent. She still loves Sonic, but her feelings for him feel authentic rather than childish idealization,and given that she now respects his space,she's written to be happy just with fighting by his side and jokingly flirt from time to time. (their bond also seems stronger,but that's a topic for another day.)

I believe this portrayal of her is one of the best we've gotten in the sense that she represents a good mix of most things that has made her positively memorable since the beginning and lacks every problematic aspect of her character that was added post her creation. And because of this good mix of characteristics, IDW Amy is constantly praised by the fandom. But something i hear a lot is people saying how they love IDW Amy and despise "Main Amy" -by which i'll assume they refer to videogame Amy just in general- and that way of summarizing all of Amy's game portrayals feels very odd to me, especially because IDW Amy is a culmination of every single good aspect that has been added to this character combined with most of what she was meant to be at the start. In other words,IDW Amy couldn't exist if it wasn't for all the game Amys before her.

It's true that in IDW we haven't seen her character be as impulsive and outspoken as in the Adventure era or Heroes, and i miss that as much as every other Amy fan. But I do think that ,because so much assertiveness wouldn’t coexist very well with things like careful thought, the reason for that change must be that IDW is writing an more mature version of the character and It’s hard for them to keep such aspects of her personality intact without her being seen as childish by the audience now that they are paired up with big responsabilities (ex: the restoration) Especially since that super impulsive nature of hers probably came naturally at the time because she was supposed to be a 12-year old and wether we like it or not, it was implied by the narrative that it was one of the main reasons she got caught by eggman both in SA1 and SA2. Aka,IDW Amy isn't allowed to make as many mistakes as the og.

After all ,Amy used to be written to be mostly seen as a comedic character and as an "extra addition" to the main team rather than as an important,needed member of it. ( even in Heroes,where she had formed her own team,she was still trying to catch up to Sonic and his team because she had been excluded of it.) If she made a mistake and got caught by eggman because of her stubborness,the writers would just make Sonix fix things. In IDW she doesn't just feel older,but she has also gotten to have important roles in the fight against Eggman and people rely on her with their lives,so it doesn't surprise me that the writers try to make her be more conscious and careful when it comes to her actions now that she has more responsibilities and can't allow herself to make as many mistakes as she did back when she was written to be more immature and impulsive because of that extreme assertiveness.

Now,I personally believe that Amy in TMoSTH is the same as in IDW, just that she feels more like her OG self in TMOSTH because ,for the most part ,Bday Girl is on that train literally to just have fun and do as she pleases. She doesn't have any weight on her shoulders nor expectations,she is free of responsabilities all the way until the climax of the game and the game itself is very comedy-centric for the most part, so the writers pobably felt like they could set that impulsive,assertive side of her loose again, and i loved it!

In this game her character doesn't revolve around Sonic and she messes up a lot (The way she was so ashamed of how she broke her hammer when she tried to escape the closet with brute force that she lied, how she didn't realize Sonic was actually hurt because she was too excited about the game, how she was overconfident and impulsively tried to solve the case and completely failed ,how she and vector started beating a wall violently after realizing the train was alive,etc),but her positive qualities shine throughout the game as well ( How she took the time to organize a party that she'd think everyone would have fun at,How she is so thankful that everyone showed up and doesn't mind that Shad and Sonic didn't bring gifts, how she makes sweets remarks about others and cute jokes in distressing situations,how she has faith in Shadow's goodwill, The way she delivers the final blow at the end and says that despite everything,she loved the party because it was an adventure,etc ). Throughout the game,Sonic and the rest treat her in a way that really goes to show what a good friend and a lovely person she is ,and she expresses great appreciation for everyone's presence in her life.

It's honestly an amazing coincidence that this game takes place on her bday considering that it's the one that made this portrayal of her "game canon". As a fan of her, i celebrate it and hope we get more of it in the near future.

So yeah, i didn't talk about Sonic X Amy,Archie Amy nor all the comics,series and games that came out between the big videogame titles. There is much more about how Amy has been written that could be said, but i think i did a pretty decent summary of the most important changes her character has gone through the years mainline game-wise,at least good enough to defend my point that she wasn't a stalker originally and she definitely isn't one now. As i mentioned before,i agree that she was portrayed as possesive and obsessive for a long period of time and as an actual harasser for a shorter one , and that we should definitely recognize it and be critical of such things being portrayed as “quirky” and “funny” aspects when they are in reality, hurtful. BUT summarizing her whole character by calling her a stalker and an obsessive fangirl is defining her based on the worst examples of her characterization and ignoring her good ones completely.

Feel free to disagree with my character analysis,my opinions and the way i categorize her portrayals,but i strongly believe that Amy rose isn't meant to be a harasser,an obsessive fangirl or personal space invader.

My girl deserves better.

#also don't get me wrong i love battle #is just that Amy is really hard to like in that game #props to her for carrying weights for half of it tho we stan a strong pink rat #if you actually read this whole thing props to you #also thanks anon for giving me an excuse to talk about amy #amy rose #sonic spoilers #character analysis

[drconstellation]

The Cupperty Ceremony

Every bit of food and drink in both seasons has a metaphorical significance, even if you don't realize it.

Tea is no exception. Its one of the few times an eastern philosophy creeps into Good Omens, but it still meets with a western ideal. It's also intrinsically linked to Aziraphale and his affected British style.

Coffee gets more of a focus in S2, and has a specific meaning around freedom and liberty, whereas tea appears more in S1. But the metaphorical meanings around them are fairly consistent across both seasons, with stereotypes for the British drinking tea and the Americans only drinking coffee put aside.

Lets start with Muriel on the doorstep of the bookshop, at the beginning of S2E3, asking to come in, because its noisy outside.

Aziraphale, after a moment to take in who they are, is the epitome of politeness as he welcomes them inside.

You might think "well, isn't this just Aziraphale being typically Aziraphale?" in this moment, but soon we shall see its a relevant part of a ritual going on here.

The bookshop is noticeably quieter on the inside. There is just the two of them. Aziraphale offers Muriel tea in a fine china cup, with a blue pattern, and gold trim.

Muriel is not sure what to do with it so they just hold it. Aziraphale makes a point of demonstrating what should be done: He tells Muriel the tea is "to drink," then looks at it, sips, and makes both an appreciative expression and sound.

Muriel seems repelled by this, and declares they are just going to look at theirs. Aziraphale patiently, still polite, lets them do so.

Up to this point, there are actually two levels of meta happening at the same time. The first one is a tea ceremony (which I had a go at once before, and got the wrong one!) and the other is about trying to get Muriel to take the first step in "going native."

A tea ceremony always starts with a courteous invitation. The tea is prepared, then served and offered to others. It should be taken in a tranquil, peaceful setting, perhaps in a harmonious natural environment (such as a Garden) and with only a few people at a time (two people is considered a "superior" experience.) The tea ware is important, as it should allow the fragrance of the tea to be appreciated (we have some fine china, Heavenly-coded.) Appreciation of the tea's qualities is undertaken, first with the eyes, then by smell, then tasting. It is considered an art, a process of spiritual enjoyment, a means of cultivating the moral character - and then Crowley bursts into the bookshop with his flirty comment about going by train and breaks the fragile connection Aziraphale had been trying to establish with Muriel.

*sigh* Timing, Crowley! Can't you see I'm in the middle of trying to subvert a fellow angel here?

I was recently reminded that tea and coffee have a connection in GO, in that that they are both linked to the American War of Independence. While the speech that gives us "Give me liberty, or give me death!" conjures the stormy winds of war sounding trouble approaching, the Boston Tea Party was the initial spark of the brewing conflict.

I realize there is a LOT of stuff written about this particular bit of history, and it can get quite political even in these modern times, so let me frame it in a Good Omens frame of reference if you aren't familiar with it - the colonists in the New World were upset at how they were being ruled from afar by the British and staged a small protest about some new laws imposed on them by dumping ship-loads of valuable tea leaves (a daily consumable pleasure people had become hooked on) into Boston Harbor on the night of 16th December 1773. To disguise themselves they dressed themselves as indigenous people, or "native Americans" as one might have said. This was just the beginning of further rebellion that led to war a few years later.

So here is another reason Aziraphale offers tea to Muriel, and not cocoa; he can see how fascinated they are with with everything Earthly around them, and he hopes to ignite a spark of rebellion in them, too, by introducing them to the more civilized pleasures (*ahem*) that he knows and enjoys so well.

While there is little tea to be seen in S2, there is plenty to be seen in S1. Perhaps the most prominent one for this discussion occurs right near the beginning, when Gabriel surprises Aziraphale in the sushi restaurant in S1E1.

Aziraphale offers to tea to Gabriel, and Gabriel shuns it. He, like most of the angels we meet, have no real interest in Earth. It's "gross." Ah, well. He gets to change his mind in S2.

So where else do we see tea in S1?

The Four Horsepeople: War orders four teas, one black, and a cheese sandwich in the diner where they all meet up together for the first time on Earth. We don't know who the sandwich is for, but I'm going to guess its for Famine. Reasons below, with Shadwell. (Cheese and tea make a nice savoury pair for a snack, if you haven't tried it. I'm partial to tea with cheese and crackers on the side from time to time.)

The Tibetan Tunnelers were on tea break from digging tunnels all over the Earth when we meet them, where they mention they were transported into the tunnels when they themselves stopped for tea back in their real lives on the surface.

Shadwell's infamously sweet tea, with either nine sugars or condensed milk, needs a mention as well, as it appears several times. Shadwell is an Aziraphale parallel-character, living on the fringes of society and starving for attention, even though he makes feeble swipes at Madam Tracey's attempts to care for him. The sugar represents the amount of care or "sweetening up" he needs.

When he first meets Newt he gets the young man to buy him a tea and a packet of cheese and onion crisps. Remember the cheese sandwich War ordered for Famine? A packet of cheese flavoured crisps is a parallel here. Newt has turned up and finally given someone Shadwell someone to sink his teeth into.

Finally, we need to return to Crowley - its coffee, as black as his soul for him, please, and extra strong (six shots is for the number of Hell.)

Because he's already "gone native," just like Aziraphale, and he wants to maintain his freedom. He's left the Garden, and Heaven, behind him, and he'll do anything to keep it that way, thank you.

I'd like to thank my mutual and other food meta writer @vidavalor for discussing some of this off-list some time ago. We mostly see things the same way, I believe, but one must tread one's own path sometimes. They have some different ideas around some of this, but I'll let them say it in their own words.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziraphale #muriel #gabriel #four horsepeople of the apocalypse #shadwell #the tibetan tunnelers #and a cheese sandwich #six shots of espresso #gone native #gross matter #it's what humans do #tea ceremony #cup of tea #cupperty

[therealmrsgojo]

Valentines special (Gojo Satoru x Reader)

Hi, everyone! Posting my personal favorite snippet on my fic I'd lie! you can click the link if you want to read the full version of it. summary: first time meeting itadori yuji, as gojo satoru's wife! warnings: canon-compliant, pregnant reader and drunk-in-love gojo.

15th of August, 2018

You find yourself in the kitchen, humming softly to the music playing in the background. The aroma of the spices and herbs fills the air as you chop the vegetables for tonight's dinner.

A small smile adorns your lips as you hear the servants of your home offer to do the chopping instead. "No, thank you. I find myself enjoying these lately," you politely decline.

The servants bow to you in return, watching in admiration, their eyes fixed on the elegant and glowing woman in front of them, the head wife of the Gojo clan.

As you continue your tasks, your phone rings, breaking your concentration. You wipe your hands on the tablecloth and answer the phone.

"How's my pretty wife doing, hm?" Satoru's voice greets you from the other end of the line.

"I'm doing well," you reply, looking back at the pot and stirring its contents. "I'm cooking our favorite dish. It's almost done, honey."

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Satoru's voice inquires with concern. "You just got off from work. If you're going to do the cooking instead of letting the helpers do it, why don't you quit your job for now and just wait for me every day with your pretty little face?"

"That's not going to happen, Gojo Satoru," your tone was stern and resolute. You continued by confessing, "I hate doing nothing. Simple things like cooking make me happy." He could hear the passion in your voice as you spoke about your newfound love for cooking.

On the other end of the line, he sighed deeply, realizing he couldn't argue with you. He knew that you were a determined and independent person and that it was hard to change once you set your mind on something.

Imagining your pouty lips, pleading eyes, and even a soft, simple "please" from you would make his knees buckle in defeat. He, the strongest sorcerer, was no match for you.

"And also, I wanted to give you a heads up that Megumi will be joining us for dinner tonight," he said, pausing a moment before adding, "Oh, and a new student of mine, too, if that's alright with you."

"Of course it's okay," you replied with a smile, "I appreciate you telling me beforehand so I can prepare. Do you remember the last time you brought Maki, Panda, Yuuta, and Megumi all at once? I was caught off guard and unprepared."

"I remember. Especially how you didn't kiss me for a whole day afterward because you were so upset." Satoru laughed, adding, "We'll be there soon. Love you ~ "

As the call ended, you turned to one of the servants standing nearby, ready to assist you at a moment's notice.

"Hana, please prepare some guest rooms for tonight," you said, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice. "We might need them later for our visitors. Thank you." You patted her shoulder, seeing her nod, before she turned around to follow your orders.

After your engagement, the wedding came soon after, taking place a few months later. You and Satoru had decided to have a simple ceremony with only the most important people in your lives present. You wanted to honor the traditions of the Gojo clan that had fascinated you since you first met Satoru.

Following your honeymoon, you were named the new head wife of the Gojo clan. Satoru's parents had decided to move out, passing on the responsibility of running the family estate to you and your husband. This was a significant moment for you both, as it was a tradition that had been passed down through generations.

The other servants had kindly taken care of wrapping up your cooking and set the table for dinner. You stood in the kitchen, washing your hands; you couldn't help but feel satisfied with your small accomplishment.

Lost in thought, you suddenly felt a pair of soft hands tenderly caressing your stomach, a body pressing up against your back, and nose slowly breathing in the scent of your neck. The unexpected touch sends a shiver down your spine, but you quickly recognize the familiar touch of your husband.

As you turned around, you saw your husband's warm smile that lit up his face. He quickly bent down to one knee and nuzzled his face into your stomach, murmuring, "I missed the both of you." You laughed at his affectionate gesture as you lovingly caressed his hair in response.

"I'm not sure they can hear you yet, love," you conveyed with a gentle smile. "I'm just barely two months pregnant, 'Toru."

Your husband looked up at you with a pout on his face, making you giggle like a teenager. He then stood up, took your face in his hands, and pressed soft kisses to your forehead, nose, and lips. The warmth of his embrace and his scent enveloped you completely.

He then turned to you and said, "Hi, my wife," looking at your face with a loving gaze, as if he was seeing you for the hundredth time but still couldn't get enough of you.

You both heard voices from the dining room, and your husband took your hand, pulling you and leading you toward the two students you had been expecting.

As you entered the room, a pink-haired boy with a curious look on his face muttered, "Wow, it's so big here, Fushiguro," his eyes scanned the delicate features around the room in amazement.

"(Y/N)-san," Megumi noticed you first and walked towards you with a small smile. You embraced him, feeling happy to see him doing well, patting his back and giving him a quick peck on the cheek before letting go. "How are you, Megumi?" you asked him.

"I'm doing well, thank you, for all that food you sent to the dorms, too," he replied, his cheeks turning slightly red at your affection.

As you stood there, your husband caressed your hair and introduced you to the other student. "Yuji, this is my wife (Y/N)," he said, turning towards the boy staring at you in awe, his mouth slightly apart.

"Itadori Yuji, nice to meet you," he said, bowing profoundly and complimenting you on your beauty that made you and your husband laugh.

"Nice to meet you too, Yuji. Let's go eat now, shall we?" you said softly, patting his shoulders as you led him to one of the dinner chairs.

The dinner was filled with laughter and stories as you all caught up with each other. You felt happy to see Megumi and Yuji bonding so well, as they were a perfect mix. You also learned about Nobara, another student you wanted to meet soon. As supper ended, every one commended your cooking, and you suggested that the two students stay for the night, offering rooms that were ready for them. They agreed happily.

As you both retired to your quarters, your husband's face was pressed up against your stomach, his hands caressing your hips as he mumbled sweet nothings to your unborn child.

You ran your fingers through his hair, smiling at the sight of the strongest sorcerer alive baby-talking to your pregnant stomach.

"I love you, (Y/N)," Your night was spent tenderly, with sweet words lingering in the air between you and your husband.

The moonlight bore witness as you made love with each other, lost in your own world of passion and intimacy.

Note: Aaaand that's it! Happy hearts day everyone! Thank you for reading this.

"Where we love is home – home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts."

xoxo,

Aurora.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #jjk satoru #satorugojo #gojo #jujutsu satoru #valentines day #aurora's fics

[ellaphnt]

Shuro’s status of nobility has been brought up a few times when discussing his fight with Laios. I’m sure there’s credibility to the argument but the way it’s been used makes me go, “huh??”

I’ve seen his upbringing used in a negative context, usually to flatten his reasons for fighting with Laios. “oh he’s used to people listening to him so he’s never met anyone who doesn’t do exactly what he says” or “he’s never been exposed to anyone new or any new perspectives and that’s why he hated Laios”. I don’t think these opinions are salient in fan spaces but I saw it enough times I wanted to talk about it.

I feel like we just, forgot that Toshiro is a foreigner? The only poc in the party? And never interacted with gnomes, dwarves, and halffoots since they don’t live in the east? (well, the last point depends on how much you’ve seen from the Adventurer’s Bible)

Compared to everyone else, he probably had the MOST exposure to new people and experiences. And yet he was able to, best he can, quickly assimilate and harmonize with everyone in his new party. Regardless of what he thought about them, it seemed everyone else thought he was amicable. As a poc (and East Asian specifically), that’s mission accomplished.

With all that effort into making himself culturally digestible, it’s no wonder he resented/envied Laios. He put in all this effort to learn their status quo, to not offend the new people he’s meeting, only for Laios to not give him the same consideration. Both of them were socially inept in some way, but only one of them felt the need to do something about it. It’s important to note that their fight was a turning point for Laios too - he realize he had to be more aware and present for his team.

So Toshiro didn’t want to say no outright because it might set back the bonds he’s trying to form. Confrontation is hard, confrontation in a new country is harder. He settles for “close enough” because hey, it’s not that big of a deal. Their opinion of me is way more important than obtaining respect for myself. I’m the foreigner. This has the consequence of making him a pushover, but I digress. He seems to identify himself more as a foreigner than nobility.

And that had to do with separating his identity! The identify he has at his house was kept VERY separate from the one he has with Laios and co. He doesn’t want Laios’ party to know that he is nobility. He doesn’t even care that they call him by “first name”, albeit butchered. He never mentioned the retainers to them (since Chilchuck had to ask who they were).

The retainers are people he’d rather keep at a distance due to their connection with his dad. This might be why he joined Laios’ party solo given the opportunity. But as we see in the image below, they followed him into the dungeon ANYWAYS. You can’t convince me he wanted them to do that. They watch from a distance, disregarding Toshiro’s independence. They don’t always listen to him, they do what they think is best for him, which means they actually follow MAIZURU. To her, his status as their young master is very important, and therefore he needs to be waited on hand and foot. It’s not that he’s used to people doing stuff for him, it’s moreso Maizuru does it regardless.

What drives both identities is an inability to assert himself. He don’t think highly of himself (living under his father’s shadow) and it shows in how people treat him. With Laios and others, he had the opportunity to shape a new identity, but because Laios was the one that introduced him, he and everyone else just accepted the misconceptions. I’m sure Toshiro noted his surprisingly strong influence on his team, something he hasn’t achieved.

With his retainers and Maizuru specifically, she doesn’t put faith in his decisions. She tsked at the fact they went to save Falin, but obeyed anyways because he’s never asserted himself before. (Reminder that assertion is him on his knees requesting their help - the hierarchy of his upbringing does not feel ingrained in him. Giving me overly respectful and considerate vibes, the silly guy)

So he CAN do it! He CAN shape how people see him if he is able to open up a bit more. Rather than his nobility, it’s moreso that he’s never trusted anyone to open up to in the first place. He doesn’t fit in back home. He’s distant from Maizuru, he’s distant from Hien. He’s distant from his brothers and parents. He basically never had friends until Laios. This is his first friend too!!!

He finally opened up to him, and that’s going to pave the way for his character development in the future. He now has someone he can trust, someone to put his faith in, and someone to teach him how to communicate better. By airing his resentment, now all that’s left is that envy/admiration. He’s going to learn from that.

Edit: just because I like keeping things together, here’s more discussion about this post :P

#oh my god I did not expect this to be so LONG #hopefully this is the last of my thoughts for a while #I didn’t even touch on other factors affecting his character!!! #thank goodness everyone else has those covered #there’s some great analyses out there #I love when a character’s overarching story is about friendship #and the struggles with the nuance of interacting with people #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #toshiro nakamoto #shuro dungeon meshi #laios touden #shuro

[sl-walker]

OTW Candidate Anh P.

I had a very long and interesting discussion with OTW-board candidate Anh P.

They tracked me down because they wanted to talk about how @squidgiepdx and I got otw-a working (for SquidgeWorld Archive and Ad Astra Fanfiction) and what we might suggest to make otw-archive more easily deployable to other, independent archives.  What might make it easier to use.  It was a really productive conversation, too, enough that Walter and I have decided to start tackling the setup documentation from the outside to see if we can’t make it as easy as possible for others to deploy otw-archive, and to test a few things we think might make it more not-OTW userfriendly.  (Like changing the hard-coding of OTW/AO3 to something that can be configured from the local.yml file.)

Anh P. is Vietnamese, very aware of the situation re: racism, AI, and the consequences of PAC being overridden.  They’ve been a volunteer for both Fanlore and Open Doors and have been for long enough to be able to run for board, but not so long that they’re completely assimilated.  They also have deep connections to the pan-Asian fan communities, including those currently marginalized by OTW’s present administrative structures.

Mostly, I'm impressed as hell that they not only wanted to talk to two people who have definite Opinions on OTW, but were genuinely and actively seeking our thoughts, good or bad, about what we would suggest to make the software more easily used by others seeking to do the same as we did.

I know I don't have a real stake in the debate over racism, being white and American and unable to understand the lived experiences of those who suffer it both in everyday life and in fandom, but they made excellent points about how decentralizing fandom and otherwise helping people be able to curate their own, inclusive spaces with their own rules might help with that.

They showed me a script a Chinese user made which is frankly brilliant to translate the AO3 Work posting page, and which could easily be translated to other languages, it’s so intuitive.

The part that sent my eyebrows up was their desire to use OTW's platform to help support independent fan archives in order to keep them afloat, rather than just let them sink and import them to AO3 via Open Doors, including not-Anglosphere archives and communities.

So, take it as you will, but I was very impressed someone was doing some of the harder legwork and seeking outside opinions, especially opinions that aren’t necessarily OTW-friendly, and with an eye towards actual measurable hard action that can be taken to start addressing some of the problems OTW is having right now.

#otw board election #anh p

[icedbatik]

I saw this opinion piece in the New York Times and, while I don't normally copy and paste entire newspaper articles, this is an excellent (if scary) read.

Aside from the sections on how much lack of consent there is in today's sexual landscape, hockey fans -- who should be well aware of the dangers of concussions -- might take particular note of the section in which "choking" during sex is linked to brain damage on par with concussion damage.

The Troubling Trend in Teenage Sex

April 12, 2024

By Peggy Orenstein

Debby Herbenick is one of the foremost researchers on American sexual behavior. The director of the Center for Sexual Health Promotion at Indiana University and the author of the pointedly titled book “Yes, Your Kid,” she usually shares her data, no matter how explicit, without judgment. So I was surprised by how concerned she seemed when we checked in on Zoom recently: “I haven’t often felt so strongly about getting research out there,” she told me. “But this is lifesaving.”

For the past four years, Dr. Herbenick has been tracking the rapid rise of “rough sex” among college students, particularly sexual strangulation, or what is colloquially referred to as choking. Nearly two-thirds of women in her most recent campus-representative survey of 5,000 students at an anonymized “major Midwestern university” said a partner had choked them during sex (one-third in their most recent encounter). The rate of those women who said they were between the ages 12 and 17 the first time that happened had shot up to 40 percent from one in four.

As someone who’s been writing for well over a decade about young people’s attitudes and early experience with sex in all its forms, I’d also begun clocking this phenomenon. I was initially startled in early 2020 when, during a post-talk Q. and A. at an independent high school, a 16-year-old girl asked, “How come boys all want to choke you?” In a different class, a 15-year-old boy wanted to know, “Why do girls all want to be choked?” They do? Not long after, a college sophomore (and longtime interview subject) contacted me after her roommate came home in tears because a hookup partner, without warning, had put both hands on her throat and squeezed.

I started to ask more, and the stories piled up. Another sophomore confided that she enjoyed being choked by her boyfriend, though it was important for a partner to be “properly educated” — pressing on the sides of the neck, for example, rather than the trachea. (Note: There is no safe way to strangle someone.) A male freshman said “girls expected” to be choked and, even though he didn’t want to do it, refusing would make him seem like a “simp.” And a senior in high school was angry that her friends called her “vanilla” when she complained that her boyfriend had choked her.

Sexual strangulation, nearly always of women in heterosexual pornography, has long been a staple on free sites, those default sources of sex ed for teens. As with anything else, repeat exposure can render the once appalling appealing. It’s not uncommon for behaviors to be normalized in porn, move within a few years to mainstream media, then, in what may become a feedback loop, be adopted in the bedroom or the dorm room.

Choking, Dr. Herbenick said, seems to have made that first leap in a 2008 episode of Showtime’s “Californication,” where it was still depicted as outré, then accelerated after the success of “Fifty Shades of Grey.” By 2019, when a high school girl was choked in the pilot of HBO’s “Euphoria,” it was standard fare. A young woman was choked in the opener of “The Idol” (again on HBO and also, like “Euphoria,” created by Sam Levinson; what’s with him?). Ali Wong plays the proclivity for laughs in a Netflix special, and it’s a punchline in Tina Fey’s new “Mean Girls.” The chorus of Jack Harlow’s “Lovin On Me,” which topped Billboard’s Hot 100 chart for six nonconsecutive weeks this winter and has been viewed over 99 million times on YouTube, starts with, “I’m vanilla, baby, I’ll choke you, but I ain’t no killer, baby.” How-to articles abound on the internet, and social media algorithms feed young people (but typically not their unsuspecting parents) hundreds of #chokemedaddy memes along with memes that mock — even celebrate — the potential for hurting or killing female partners.

I’m not here to kink-shame (or anything-shame). And, anyway, many experienced BDSM practitioners discourage choking, believing it to be too dangerous. There are still relatively few studies on the subject, and most have been done by Dr. Herbenick and her colleagues. Reports among adolescents are now trickling out from the United Kingdom, Australia, Iceland, New Zealand and Italy.

Twenty years ago, sexual asphyxiation appears to have been unusual among any demographic, let alone young people who were new to sex and iffy at communication. That’s changed radically in a short time, with health consequences that parents, educators, medical professionals, sexual consent advocates and teens themselves urgently need to understand.

Sexual trends can spread quickly on campus and, to an extent, in every direction. But, at least among straight kids, I’ve sometimes noticed a pattern: Those that involve basic physical gratification — like receiving oral sex in hookups — tend to favor men. Those that might entail pain or submission, like choking, are generally more for women.

So, while undergrads of all genders and sexualities in Dr. Herbenick’s surveys report both choking and being choked, straight and bisexual young women are far more likely to have been the subjects of the behavior; the gap widens with greater occurrences. (In a separate study, Dr. Herbenick and her colleagues found the behavior repeated across the United States, particularly for adults under 40, and not just among college students.) Alcohol may well be involved, and while the act is often engaged in with a steady partner, a quarter of young women said partners they’d had sex with on the day they’d met also choked them.

Either way, most say that their partners never or only sometimes asked before grabbing their necks. For many, there had been moments when they couldn’t breathe or speak, compromising the ability to withdraw consent, if they’d given it. No wonder that, in a separate study by Dr. Herbenick, choking was among the most frequently listed sex acts young women said had scared them, reporting that it sometimes made them worry whether they’d survive.

Among girls and women I’ve spoken with, many did not want or like to be sexually strangled, though in an otherwise desired encounter they didn’t name it as assault. Still, a sizable number were enthusiastic; they requested it. It is exciting to feel so vulnerable, a college junior explained. The power dynamic turns her on; oxygen deprivation to the brain can trigger euphoria.

That same young woman, incidentally, had never climaxed with a partner: While the prevalence of choking has skyrocketed, rates of orgasm among young women have not increased, nor has the “orgasm gap” disappeared among heterosexual couples. “It indicates they’re not doing other things to enhance female arousal or pleasure,” Dr. Herbenick said.

When, for instance, she asked one male student who said he choked his partner whether he’d ever tried using a vibrator instead, he recoiled. “Why would I do that?” he asked.

Perhaps, she responded, because it would be more likely to produce orgasm without risking, you know, death.

In my interviews, college students have seen male orgasm as a given; women’s is nice if it happens, but certainly not expected or necessarily prioritized (by either partner). It makes sense, then, that fulfillment would be less the motivator for choking than appearing adventurous or kinky. Such performances don’t always feel good.

“Personally, my hypothesis is that this is one of the reasons young people are delaying or having less sex,” Dr. Herbenick said. “Because it’s uncomfortable and weird and scary. At times some of them literally think someone is assaulting them but they don’t know. Those are the only sexual experiences for some people. And it’s not just once they’ve gotten naked. They’ll say things like, ‘I’ve only tried to make out with someone once because he started choking and hitting me.’”

Keisuke Kawata, a neuroscientist at Indiana University’s School of Public Health, was one of the first researchers to sound the alarm on how the cumulative, seemingly inconsequential, sub-concussive hits football players sustain (as opposed to the occasional hard blow) were key to triggering C.T.E., the degenerative brain disease. He’s a good judge of serious threats to the brain. In response to Dr. Herbenick’s work, he’s turning his attention to sexual strangulation. “I see a similarity” to C.T.E., he told me, “though the mechanism of injury is very different.” In this case, it is oxygen-blocking pressure to the throat, frequently in light, repeated bursts of a few seconds each.

Strangulation — sexual or otherwise — often leaves few visible marks and can be easily overlooked as a cause of death. Those whose experiences are nonlethal rarely seek medical attention, because any injuries seem minor: Young women Dr. Herbenick studied mostly reported lightheadedness, headaches, neck pain, temporary loss of coordination and ear ringing. The symptoms resolve, and all seems well. But, as with those N.F.L. players, the true effects are silent, potentially not showing up for days, weeks, even years.

According to the American Academy of Neurology, restricting blood flow to the brain, even briefly, can cause permanent injury, including stroke and cognitive impairment. In M.R.I.s conducted by Dr. Kawata and his colleagues (including Dr. Herbenick, who is a co-author of his papers on strangulation), undergraduate women who have been repeatedly choked show a reduction in cortical folding in the brain compared with a never-choked control group. They also showed widespread cortical thickening, an inflammation response that is associated with elevated risk of later-onset mental illness. In completing simple memory tasks, their brains had to work far harder than the control group, recruiting from more regions to achieve the same level of accuracy.

The hemispheres in the choked group’s brains, too, were badly skewed, with the right side hyperactive and the left underperforming. A similar imbalance is associated with mood disorders — and indeed in Dr. Herbenick’s surveys girls and women who had been choked were more likely than others (or choked men) to have experienced overwhelming anxiety, as well as sadness and loneliness, with the effect more pronounced as the incidence rose: Women who had experienced more than five instances of choking were two and a half times as likely as those who had never been choked to say they had been so depressed within the previous 30 days they couldn’t function. Whether girls and women with mental health challenges are more likely to seek out (or be subjected to) choking, choking causes mood disorders, or some combination of the two is still unclear. But hypoxia, or oxygen deprivation — judging by what research has shown about other types of traumatic brain injury — could be a contributing factor. Given the soaring rates of depression and anxiety among young women, that warrants concern.

Now consider that every year Dr. Herbenick has done her survey, the number of females reporting extreme effects from strangulation (neck swelling, loss of consciousness, losing control of urinary function) has crept up. Among those who’ve been choked, the rate of becoming what students call “cloudy” — close to passing out, but not crossing the line — is now one in five, a huge proportion. All of this indicates partners are pressing on necks longer and harder.

The physical, cognitive and psychological impacts of sexual choking are disturbing. So is the idea that at a time when women’s social, economic, educational and political power are in ascent (even if some of those rights may be in jeopardy), when #MeToo has made progress against harassment and assault, there has been the popularization of a sex act that can damage our brains, impair intellectual functioning, undermine mental health, even kill us. Nonfatal strangulation, one of the most significant indicators that a man will murder his female partner (strangulation is also one of the most common methods used for doing so), has somehow been eroticized and made consensual, at least consensual enough. Yet, the outcomes are largely the same: Women’s brains and bodies don’t distinguish whether they are being harmed out of hate or out of love.

By now I’m guessing that parents are curled under their chairs in a fetal position. Or perhaps thinking, “No, not my kid!” (see: title of Dr. Herbenick’s book above, which, by the way, contains an entire chapter on how to talk to your teen about “rough sex”).

I get it. It’s scary stuff. Dr. Herbenick is worried; I am, too. And we are hardly some anti-sex, wait-till-marriage crusaders. But I don’t think our only option is to wring our hands over what young people are doing.

Parents should take a beat and consider how they might give their children relevant information in a way that they can hear it. Maybe reiterate that they want them to have a pleasurable sex life — you have already said that, right? — and also want them to be safe. Tell them that misinformation about certain practices, including choking, is rampant, that in reality it has grave health consequences. Plus, whether or not a partner initially requested it, if things go wrong, you’re generally criminally on the hook.

Dr. Herbenick suggests reminding them that there are other, lower-risk ways to be exploratory or adventurous if that is what they are after, but it would be wisest to delay any “rough sex” until they are older and more skilled at communicating. She offers language when negotiating with a new partner, such as, “By the way, I’m not comfortable with” — choking, or other escalating behaviors such as name-calling, spitting and genital slapping — “so please don’t do it/don’t ask me to do it to you.” They could also add what they are into and want to do together.

I’d like to point high school health teachers to evidence-based porn literacy curricula, but I realize that incorporating such lessons into their classrooms could cost them their jobs. Shafia Zaloom, a lecturer at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, recommends, if that’s the case, grounding discussions in mainstream and social media. There are plenty of opportunities. “You can use it to deconstruct gender norms, power dynamics in relationships, ‘performative’ trends that don’t represent most people’s healthy behaviors,” she said, “especially depictions of people putting pressure on someone’s neck or chest.”

I also know that pediatricians, like other adults, struggle when talking to adolescents about sex (the typical conversation, if it happens, lasts 40 seconds). Then again, they already caution younger children to use a helmet when they ride a bike (because heads and necks are delicate!); they can mention that teens might hear about things people do in sexual situations, including choking, then explain the impact on brain health and why such behavior is best avoided. They should emphasize that if, for any reason — a fall, a sports mishap or anything else — a young person develops symptoms of head trauma, they should come in immediately, no judgment, for help in healing.

The role and responsibility of the entertainment industry is a tangled knot: Media reflects behavior but also drives it, either expanding possibilities or increasing risks. There is precedent for accountability. The European Union now requires age verification on the world’s largest porn sites (in ways that preserve user privacy, whatever that means on the internet); that discussion, unsurprisingly, had been politicized here. Social media platforms have already been pushed to ban content promoting eating disorders, self-harm and suicide — they should likewise be pressured to ban content promoting choking. Traditional formats can stop glamorizing strangulation, making light of it, spreading false information, using it to signal female characters’ complexity or sexual awakening. Young people’s sexual scripts are shaped by what they watch, scroll by and listen to — unprecedentedly so. They deserve, and desperately need, models of interactions that are respectful, communicative, mutual and, at the very least, safe.

Peggy Orenstein is the author of “Boys & Sex: Young Men on Hookups, Love, Porn, Consent and Navigating the New Masculinity” and “Girls & Sex: Navigating the Complicated New Landscape.”

#off-theme #and long #but worth the read

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Over the last couple of days, 3 independent Palestinian terrorist attacks took place. In one of them, Palestinian terrorists killed a Palestinian man that they mistook for a Jew, 33 years old Amar Mansour. A 42 years old Palestinian woman who was in the car with him was wounded. She was evacuated to a hospital in Ramallah, and then later transferred to the Hadassah medical center in Jerusalem, where she works as a pharmacist. Israeli soldiers risk their lives whenever they go after terrorists, and they are doing that for these Palestinians, just as they do for Israeli Jews and for Israeli Arabs murdered by terrorists.

Since Saleh al-Arouri was eliminated in Lebanon, the fighting between Israel and Hezbollah has escalated. The terrorist organization, which is destroying civilian communities, has struck an Israel Air Force base, nicknamed "the country's northern eyes," which is dedicated to monitoring aerial threats invading Israel's north, and monitoring aircrafts in Israel's northern sky (so they're kinda like an air force control tower, making sure aircrafts don't crash). Hezbollah released footage showing 2 of the base's 3 domes being hit. Reports say it took two hours to get the fire under control, and the base back online. It's not the only army base hit by Hezbollah (the Northern Command's base was struck today), but probably the most damaging attack so far.

Following that, a Hezbollah senior terrorist was killed yesterday in Lebanon. In the terrorist organization's announcement, he was described as 'The Commander,' a term not used for any of Hezbollah's other killed terrorists, suggesting just how important he was to their terrorist activity. There's a report on Saudi news, that Hezbollah tried to attack an Israeli natural gas rig using drones, but it's too early to know how true this is.

Here's a conversation made by a Gazan to an IDF officer, to ask for aid. The IDF officer tells the man to raise white flags as they approach Israeli soldiers for this purpose, but then the man inquires when the Israeli army will destroy Hamas. He points out that Hamas is killing Gaza's people.

As Israel is being sued by South Africa at the International Court for Justice (here), and as SA chose to appoint a judge to the case (in addition to the 15 permanent judges of the ICJ, a right given to both the suing and sued countries in that court), Israel has appointed Aharon Barak as a judge on its behalf. Barak is an 87 years old Holocaust survivor, globally renowned and respected judge and legal expert, and the former president of Israel's Supreme Court of Justice.

Since the anti-Israel crowd love quotes from Israeli officials (and to take them out of context, in a way that vilifies the Jewish state), here's another one (source in Hebrew): Moshe Arbel, an ultra orthodox member of the Knesset (Israel's parliament), and currently Minister of Interior Affairs, has said today explicitly that the status of the Arabic language in Israel must not be harmed, and that despite some populist utterances, most of the public in Israel is looking for that which unites everyone here, rather than that which divides us.

Among the things you never hear about when looking at anti-Israeli sources, is that when Jews build houses illegally, those are demolished by the state, just like when Palestinians do it. This night, Israel did exactly that in Judea and Samaria.

It's the third time, at the very least, that Israel has done so since the start of the war in Gaza.

The families of the hostages have said that today, they'll had for the border with Gaza, to block the way of aid trucks going in from Israel. They are upset that while their family members have been held hostage for over 90 days (when we know that there has been rape and abuse of the hostages in many different ways, when the mothers have started talking about the fact that their daughters might be forced to carry pregnancies from the Hamas terrorists continuously raping them in captivity, when the hostages are known not to be receiving proper medical care or even enough food and water), the aid going into Gaza is being stolen by Hamas, allowing them to continue to fight, and to refuse the release of the hostages. At the time of compiling this post, IDK yet if the families carried this out.

This is 86 years old Shlomo Mansour.

In one of my past daily update posts, I mentioned him, and that he's the oldest hostage in Gaza. He was 85 years old when he was kidnapped. He's also a Holocaust survivor. I watched a touching piece that was aired in Nov about him, interviewing his wife in light of their upcoming 60th anniversary, during which he was still held captive by terrorists. Now it's been translated into English:

This is 35 years old Idan Amedi.

If you watched Fauda, you may know him from that show as an actor.

If you're Israeli, you probably know him even before that as a singer. I got to watch a vid at a relatively early stage of the fighting in Gaza, where Idan's voice can be heard, dedicating his unit blowing up a terror tunnel, to their friends murdered on Oct 7. I believe many Israelis saw that vid, and knew he was in there, fighting for over 3 months by this point.

Idan was seriously wounded, one of at least 9 Israeli soldiers killed in Gaza yesterday, and at least 6 soldiers injured. His cousin asked everyone to pray for him (Idan ben Tova). Israeli-Serbian basketballer Deni Avdija, who plays for the Washington Wizards, took the court today with a dedication to Idan on his basketball shoes. It says, in Hebrew, "For the healing of Idan son of Tova Amedi."

Maybe Idan's biggest, most well known song is Warriors' Pain (which he wrote himself, lyrics and melody). One of its haunting lines is, "You don't understand why, I have long stopped being myself, images running from that night." I am gonna add the official YT vid of this song, and dedicate it to the memory of all of those who were injured or died fighting the terrorists from Gaza, whether on Oct 7 or since.

You know what was absolutely abhorrent? I pretty much stopped going on Twitter, because the antisemitism is beyond disgusting. But I had a moment of weakness, went there, and saw a tweet from a British journalist, who couldn't say anything yet, but implied that many Israeli soldiers were killed yesterday, and the amount of commenters basically celebrating it was despicable, but also a reminder... people who care about human rights don't celebrate the death of so many human beings. Every single one of those soldiers is fighting in a war that Israel didn't choose to start, and that Hamas could have ended a long time ago. Not a single one of them would have chosen to be in Gaza and die, if Israelis had a choice. Each one is an entire family destroyed. I was listening to an interview with the best friend of one killed soldier, and she was so clearly devastated, fighting to speak through tears, it was hard to bear so much pain, and she wasn't even a relative or spouse. Those disgusting people who celebrate the death of Israeli soldiers prove that they don't care about human rights, they just rejoice over the death of Jews.

Oh, and a part of why they do that, is because they don't want us talking about our pain. Who would talk about their pain, when it just because a weapon for haters to inflict even more emotional pain? But that's the thing. We're human beings. The antisemitic anti-Israel crowd seeks to de-humanize us in the same way the Nazis did. If we speak about our pain, if people hear us, that is way more threatening to them than any of their distorted facts being called out. So I'm not going to stop talking about our pain, we deserve to share it when we're hurting, we deserve to be seen as the human beings that we are. And people who are so morally lost, that they can try to use it, to inflict more pain? They don't deserve for their words to count.

This is 32 years old Dvir David Pima.

He was a deputy battalion commander, who identified a terror tunnel shaft as booby trapped, but without enough time to stop it from blowing up. He threw himself at it. His body took the blast, and by doing so, he saved the lives of the 3 other soldiers who were there.

May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #Youtube

[specialagentartemis]

Black Women writing SFF

The post about Octavia Butler also made me think about the injustice we do both Butler, SFF readers, and Black women SFF writers by holding her up as the one Black Woman Writing Sci-Fi. She occupies an important place in the genre, for her creativity, the beauty and impact of her writing, and her prolific work... but she's still just one writer, and no one writer works for everybody.

So whether you liked Octavia Butler's books or didn't, here are some of the (many!!! this list is just the authors I've read and liked, or been recommended and been wanting to read) other Black women writing speculative fiction aimed at adults, who might be writing something within your interest:

N. K. Jemisin - a prolific powerhouse of modern sff. Will probably have something you'll like. Won three Hugo awards in a row for her Broken Earth trilogy. I’ve only read her book of short stories, How Long ‘Til Black Future Month? and it is absolutely story after story of bangers. Creative, chilling, beautifully written, make you think. They’re so good and I highly recommend the collection. Several of her novels have spun out of premises she first explored through these short stories, most recently “The City Born Great” giving rise to her novel The City We Became. Leans more fantasy than sci-fi, but has a lot of both, in various permutations. 

Nisi Shawl - EDIT: I have been informed that Nisi Shawl identifies as genderfluid, not as a woman. They primarily write short stories that lean literary. Their one novel that I’ve read, Everfair, is an alternate-history 19th century that asks, what if the Congo had fought off European colonization and became a free and independent African state? Told in vignettes spanning decades of political organization, political movements, war tactics, and social development, among an ensemble of local African people, Black Americans coming to the new country, white and mixed-race Brits, and Chinese immigrants who came as British laborers.

Nnedi Okorafor - American-Nigerian writer of Africanfuturism, sci-fi stories emphasizing life in present, future, and alternate-magical Africa. She has range! From Binti, a trilogy of novellas about a teenage girl in Namibia encountering aliens and balancing her newfound connection to space with expectations of her family; to Akata Witch, a middle-grade series about a Nigerian-American girl moving to Nigeria and learning to use magic powers she didn’t know she had; to Who Fears Death, a brutal depiction of magical-realism in a futuristic, post-war Sudan; to short stories like "Africanfuturism 419", about that poor Nigerian prince who’s desperately sending out those emails looking for help (but with a sci-fi twist), and "Mother of Invention" about a smart house taking care of its human and her baby… she’s done a little bit of everything, but always emphasizes the future, the science, and the magic of (usually western) Africa.

Karen Lord - an Afro-Caribbean author.  I actually didn’t particularly like the one novel by her I’ve read, The Best of All Possible Worlds, but Martha Wells did, so. Lord has more novels set in this world—a Star Trek-esque multicultural, multispecies spacefuture set on a planet that has welcomed immigrants and refugees for a long time, and become a vibrant multicultural planet. I find her stories rooted in near-future Caribbean socio-climatic concerns like "Haven" and "Cities of the Sun" and her folktale-fantasy style Redemption in Indigo more compelling.  And more short stories here.

Bethany C. Morrow - only has one novella (short novel?) for adults, Mem, but it was creative and fascinating and good and I’d be remiss not to shout it out. In an alternate-history 1920s Toronto, scientists have discovered how to extract specific memories from a person—but then those memories are embodied as physical, cloned manifestations of the person at the moment the memory was made. The main character is one such “Mem,” struggling to determine who she is if she was created from and defined by one single traumatic memory that her original-self wanted to remove. It’s mostly quiet, contemplative, and very interesting.  (Morrow has some YA novels too. I read one of them and thought it was okay.)

Rebecca Roanhorse - Afro-Indigenous, Black and "Spanish Indian" and married into Diné (Navajo). I’ve read her ongoing post-apocalyptic fantasy series starting with Trail of Lightning, and am liking it a lot; after a climate catastrophe, the spirits and magic of the Diné awakened to protect Dinetah (the Navajo Nation) from the onslaught; and now magic and monsters are part of life in this fundamentally changed world. Coyote is there and he is only sometimes helpful. She also has a more traditional second-world epic high fantasy, Black Sun, an elaborate fantasy world with quests and prophecies and seafaring adventure that draws inspiration from Indigenous cultures of the US and Mexico rather than Europe. She also has bitingly satirical and very incisive short stories like “Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience” about virtual reality and cultural tourism, and the fantasy-horror "Harvest."

Micaiah Johnson - her multiverse-hopping novel The Space Between Worlds plays with alternate universes and alternate selves in a continuously creative and interesting way! The setup doesn’t take the easy premise that one universe is our own recognizable one that opens up onto strange alternate universes—even the main character’s home universe is wildly different in speculative ways, with the MC coming from a Mad Max-esque desert community abandoned to the elements, while working for the universe-travel company within the climate-controlled walled city where the rich and well-connected live and work. Also, it’s unabashedly gay. 

And if you like audiobooks and audio fiction (I listened to The Space Between Worlds as an audiobook, it’s good), then Jordan Cobb is someone you should check out. She does sci-fi/horror/thriller audio drama. Her works include Janus Descending, a lyrical and eerie sci-fi horror about a small research expedition to a distant planet and how it went so, so wrong; and Descendants, the sequel about its aftermath. She also has Primordial Deep, about a research expedition to the deep undersea, to investigate the apparent re-emergence of a lot of extinct prehistoric sea creatures. She’s a writer/producer I like, and always follow her new releases. Her detailed prose, minimal casts  (especially in Janus Descending), good audio quality, and full-series supercuts make these welcoming to audiobook fans. 

-

Nalo Hopkinson - a writer who should be considered nearly as foundational as Octavia Butler, honestly. A novelist and short story writer with a wide variety of sci-fi, dystopian futures, fairy-tale horror, gods and epics, and space Carnival, drawing heavily from her Caribbean experiences and aesthetics.

Tananarive Due - fantastical/horror. Immortals, vampires, curses, altered reality, unnerving mystery. Also has written a lot of books.

Andrea Hairston - creative and otherworldly, weird and bisexual, with mindscapes and magic and aliens. 

Helen Oyeyemi - I haven’t read her work but she comes highly recommended by a friend. A novelist and short story writer, most of her work leans fairytale fantastical-horror. What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours is a collection of short fiction and recc’ed to me as her best work. White is for Witching is a well-regarded haunted house novel. 

Ashia Monet - indie author, writer of The Black Veins, pitched as “the no-love-interest, found family adventure you’ve been searching for.” Magic road trip! Possibly YA? I’m not positive. 

-

This also doesn’t include Black non-binary sff authors I’ve read and liked like An Owomoyela, C. L. Polk, and Rivers Solomon. And this is specifically about adult sff books, so I didn’t include Black women YA sff authors like Kalynn Bayron, Tomi Adeyemi, Tracy Deonn, Justina Ireland, or Alechia Dow, though they’re writing fantasy and sci-fi in the YA world too.

And a lot of short stories are out there in the online magazine world, where so many up and coming authors get their start, and established ones explore offbeat and new ideas.  Pick up an issue (or a subscription!) of FIYAH magazine for the most current Black speculative writing.

#books #book recs #science fiction

[starberry-cupcake]

Hello, I haven't had time to read as much as I would want but I'm here with an update regardless, because if I don't keep these constant, I'm gonna forget things and this, so far, seems like a book in which I don't wanna forget things.

previously, in harrowbean the ninth:

this happened

currently, after "parodos" and ch. 1:

so I'm making up a timeline in my head with the information at hand

which is never straightforward

that'd be too easy, here in tlt we like to be kept on our toes

we like to be punched in the gut when we least expect it

so get ready for bad math

this would probably make our good friend palmolive atreides weep

I'm sorry palomilve's force ghost, I'm doing my best

SO

the first entry was the night of the emperor being terminated

the "parodos" bit (we'll get to that) is 14 months before the emperor is snuffed out

ch. 1 is nine months before the emperor kicks the bucket

I believe act 1 is going to be happening around that time, since ch. 2 seems to be following without another indication

because of what happens in "parodos" aka flashback, aka prologue 2: elecric bogaloo, we can attempt to estimate when the events of gideon happened

harrowbean tells ortus in the flashback that he's gonna train with aiglamene for 12 weeks

let's assume that's kind of the amount of time gideon trained, plus the time it took harrow to plot how to girlsplain, gatekeep and gaslight gideon into it

the only one girlbossing here is camilla, I don't make the rules

so, if gideon and harrow were ready to leave the ninth somewhere around 2-3 months after the flashback, it'd be circa 11 months before the events in the prologue

and ch. 1 starts 9 months before the events in the prologue

so gideon might have happened somewhere around 11-10 months before the prologue

I can't tell how long they were in canaan house (it felt like 12 years and 5 minutes at the same time) but I think about a month is mostly right, given that once bodies start dropping, things are all happening together

all of this is relative, since time in space is ????

but I need to do this for my own peace of mind

if you give me time measurements I'm gonna measure, ok?

I need to organize things

I know I will end up making a graphic at some point I just know it

this is what I get for calling palmolive a turbonerd

ANYWAY, MOVING ON

or, moving back, since we're in prologue 2: electric bogaloo aka flashback time

here we have ortus (the one we knew, not the one we will get to know, according to the characters list) telling harrow he doesn't wanna go to the field trip

this is ortus

if you're wondering why I don't nickname ortus, I'll repeat myself but "orto" means "ass" where I'm from, so that's enough to remember him by

harrow is like "I know you're underqualified but we're understaffed, so it is what it is"

the important part is that harrowbean says she sees the barbie in the freezer walking about

like a ghost or whatnot

she refers to her as "the body" and I assume that's barbie in the ice cube because someone reblogged my recap where I mentioned her and tagged

ever since then I've been wondering why she was referred to as The Body and now I'm gonna assume this is it

so harrow tells ortus he needs to hide the fact that she's mentally unstable

[non funny side note: masking is unbearable and it's awful we live in a social and cultural environment where we feel pressured to do it, especially when you're an adult having to fulfill expectations of supposedly "age-specific" activities and responsibilities, it's exhausting and I cried about that in therapy a mere week ago so, hitting hard, this bit

don't let people make you feel "less than" because the way in which you navigate the world and your experiences is different from what's expected in some theoretical socially constructed category

and fuck everyone who, in order to put people down in arguments online, ever make fun of those who aren't mentally, economically or socially as independent as what the category of an adult is supposed to be to them

argue with concepts, argue with opinions and facts, don't tear people down in the name of "moral upper hand" by telling people they're losers for needing help

side note done]

so, harrow entered the whole canaan thing not only carrying the weight of her house, her family and her entire people

she also came into it believing she's not mentally sound and seeing The Body walking around unnoticed by other people

whether or not her visions are mentally unsettled or something that actually happens because she opened the tomb, just the whole situation of her birth is enough to make anyone collapse, so we got you, harrowbean

we're here for you

and all that without mentioning what it'd be like seeing your girlfriend cavalier impale herself in front of you

I'm taking liberties with the 'girlfriend' bit but idk

so, next we know, 5 months have passed from that and harrowcita is struggling in her new environment of the clown emperor's ship

she is made to carry gideon's sword and she can't

she can't seem to know what to do or to communicate with said knowledge and she's throwing up a lot

WHICH IS GREAT!!!!!

I mean, it's not great that she's suffering

but it's GREAT because if she can't communicate with gideon's slurped soul, maybe it means gideon's soul has not been slurped AT ALL

more fuel for my wishful thinking of gideon's soul returning to her and getting regenerated and saved and being alive

I also like very much this situation in which harrow sees the sword as personified and they hate each other without gideon

it's like prim's cat in the hunger games with katniss

but with an inanimate object

I'm really liking that dynamic

is like they both miss her and can't relate to each other

ALSO barbie body ice cube is still there

just chillin' and being silently supportive, I think

not sure what her deal is but what if she's not the bad one here? because this emperor kind of sucks tbh

not in a 'he's evil' way but in a 'idk if he know what he's doing' way

I don't know about this guy tbh

so we're leaving off with harrow being mentally and physically struggling, ghost barbie roamin' the rooms, voices of people organizing stock and gideon in my head like this, walking in limbo to get back to us

also, another day without camilla

I thought I wasn't gonna have much to say and this is so long, I'm so sorry...

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth #tlt #harrow the ninth spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #long post #gif cw

[smytherines]

The wild thing about SAF is that it's a comedy spy parody musical from eight years ago, but people (including me) really have the most elaborate headcanons for these characters and are so invested in them, because they're not Good Representation for Fine Upstanding LGBTQ+ Youths, it's compelling representation for weird messy queer people.

Like I don't know if I'm expressing this well, but we're only able to have this kind of weird deep conversation about the meanings behind the gay comedy spy parody musical because these aren't sanitized characters.

One of them does absolutely nothing wrong to deserve the massively horrible thing that happens to him, gets hurt by the man he loves, gets abandoned. But he also tortures and kills people. He's canonically the villain, but he's sympathetic.

The other one is kind of an asshole- cocky, careless, jealous, petty. He fucks up big time, but he's also an ADHD himbo who is lovable in ways you can't describe. He's canonically the hero, but there's very much an "Oh, sweetie" vibe to him

And SAF succeeds at having such interesting representation because while the Big Reveal is meant to be a surprise at the end of the show, they layered it in from the opening minutes of the show.

It isn't BUT THEY'RE GAY HAHA, it's relying on our understanding of the rules of the spy genre to tell a surprisingly meaningful story. Mary Kate sings it right at the beginning- it's time to get the girl again. The reveal works because it plays against what you know, what you expect from this genre, so wonderfully.

And it also isn't Here Are Two Flawless Gays Please Do You Like Them?? It isn't PR. It isn't representation for the sake of representation. Being gay is not the only thing we know about them. And because the reveal doesn't happen until the end, it's arguably not even the most important thing we know about them.

It's just two kinda fucked up guys who might have been great together, but who lived in an era and especially worked in a profession where they had little realistic prospect of making anything work in the long term.

Who probably had a lot of shit on their shoulders from having to hide who they are their entire lives, growing up in wartime, and maybe even being neurodivergent. There's so much room to use our knowledge of the real world during this time period to flesh out these characters in a way the musical just doesn't have time to do.

And once you rewatch the show with the context of the Big Gay Reveal, it actually colors in a lot of those traits and interactions in subtle and interesting ways.

And especially knowing that this came out eight years ago, and was created by a tiny little independent theatre company, it's just... thanks, Tin Can Bros. I like your messy gays

#spies are forever #tin can bros #agent curt mega #owen carvour #curtwen #sorry somebody said they were spring cleaning their drafts and i got inspired

[tadpolesonalgae]

Demon! Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - Part 3[***]

A/N: you guys really shouldn’t be encouraging my monsterfucking habits but here we are. Also, sorry it’s late!

Summary: You get stolen away by one of his half siblings, and he nearly tips over the irredeemable edge. You’re running. He’s hunting.

Warnings: monsterfucking (yk), demon!azriel, kidnapping, gore/violence, blood, beast form!Azriel (no, you don’t fuck him like that), soft!Demon!az (in his own way)

-Part 2- -Part 4-

He doesn’t understand how he managed to lose you so effortlessly.

He’d been keeping you in his private chambers, locked far below ground. But then you’d started getting ideas in your head after the mating, ideas of your own independence being important. It set his ire blazing, the thought you would any sort of individuality to separate yourself from him. You belong to one another now.

Still, an unfamiliar part of him had granted your offending requests of freedom, returning you to the mortal worlds from time to time whenever you claimed to be struck down by a sickness for your previous housing. His lip curled whenever he thought of it.

He’d allowed you out, and you’d been snatched away. Ripped from his claws, leaving him wounded and tender. And furious. Black flame incarnate. The embodiment of wrath, his body sensing something fundamental having been torn from his inner energies. You.

He needs you back, or he might wither under the unyielding might of his rage.

————————

The marshy land squelches beneath your feet, the wet slap of your toes as they sink into the mud. Icy razor blades slice the soles of your feet as the cold bites into you. The skin is a raw pink, the swampy terrain containing little but festering small creatures that cannibalise one another for the sake of prolonging their pitiful but desperate lives.

The beasts dragging you along have no place in your heart, twisted with malevolent cruelty to the point of being unrecognisable. You can’t even begin to comprehend them, yet they continue stringing you through the bemired ground, no care for the burning pain that slices with every step.

Salty paths have long since dried on your grimy skin, wind whipping at your hair as it howls in the skies, thunderous. Rain lashes at your back, stinging in its persistence. A crack of lightening above has you jumping, stumbling as you fall into a stagnant bog of putrid smelling water. The creatures pay you no mind, continuing on their slouching way as your ankles are pulled out beneath you.

Your mouth opens to scream before you seal you lips as you’re dragged under, your weight sinking into the marsh. You thrash until your break the surface, gasping for air as you try to push the mud from your eyes. The best you can do is wait for the unkind rain to rinse your skin beneath it’s torrential rage.

How much further?

The question repeats in your mind until it’s a dull throb of pain, hair pulled out from under you as you slide through the muck, sludge caking your back. It becomes unbearable when you hit stable land, the cold ground biting at your skin, tearing at the thin robes you adorned before you were snatched away. Again.

The thunderous crack of lightening whips closer, more regular. A small part of you hopes it will somehow seek you out, strike you down where you lie, freeing you from the endless hurricane of events you seem to have been unsuspectingly caught in. Things were just beginning to look up for you and Azriel. He’d allowed you freedom you hadn’t been granted even in the mortal realms, the promise of safety, gifting you with the liberty to run wild in forests, bathe in streams without worry of prying eyes or snatching hands that wouldn’t listen to your cries of agony. How false those promises had been.

Perhaps he’d gotten bored of you.

He was a creature of hel, after all.

The wind beats down on your accepting features with all the force nature possesses. It harrows your skin, lashing at your cheeks, stinging your lips as the wind turns every strand of hair into cruel, half bitten whips, cracking against your tender skin with sharp, wet smacks.

And yet you couldn’t bring yourself to call him a beast. The things dragging you by your ankles were the monsters, though perhaps he was simply a master to the arts of deceit and mockery.

Sharp stones scrape against the raw flesh of your back, surely the same bitten-pink as your feet. Had he really, truly abandoned you? The side of your throat stings, your hands automatically flying to sense out the pain. The bite marks are pulsing, throbbing with a burning sensation, prickling at your bloodstream. Azriel.

Where are you?

You manage to crack your eyes open, gunk teeming at the edges where the rain couldn’t slither in. There’s a black spec in the sky, darker than the thunderous rain cloud. Lightening cracks, silhouetting the shadow.

You hiss as rocks drag against your should blades, splitting up your spine as they grind against the bone. Fresh tears spill as unceasing pain lances through your back, flaying your torso.

The shadow is larger - closer. It’s dropping, plummeting through the air, terrifying wings slicing through the atmosphere silently. Lethally precision in the set of it’s form. He’s a very quiet predator.

Your breath catches, choking on air as it clogs your lungs, tongue feeling rubbery against the walls of your throat. The words blurs but not from the sting of rain, neither the dark haze when your squint your eyes in desperation to shield from the wild onslaught of the elements trying to corrode your skin. Hot wetness warms paths along your skin, neck stinging as his glittering ire slices along that eldritch connection, zapping at your mind.

The utter fury blazing along the bond warms your from within, heart picking up to the beat of the wind that whips unforgivingly across the flat moor, fog rolling in thick, suffocating clusters, sprawling above the fen. Your lower lip trembles as he dives, swooping down, shadows wreathing him in unhallowed darkness.

He crashes into the beasts dragging your human body so carelessly across the boggy flatland, piercing screams tearing from their bodies as they’re crushed beneath his razed sharp claws. The Dæmon lands in a mess of splintering bones, dark blood spraying into the mud as jaws snap viciously, tearing at rough skin as their bodies are pulled apart.

“Azriel…” You’re disbelieving, finally coming to a stop on the biting floor. Power fills the air, frenetic static building, lightening cracking above. It’s his fury incarnate, imbuing the world with depthless wrath as it zaps across the wet fields. Beastly snarls rips from his chest.

You shakily push up, hardly able to move from the bludgeoning numbness. His wings are larger, the talons glittering at their peaks sharper. His arms and legs are transformed into crushing paws, decorated with slicing talons that could spear your entire body. His thick fur curls in the torrential downpour, changed from his bi-pedal form into moving as a predator would, enabling his lethal speed.

He’s hardly recognisable save for scar peaking through the matted hair on his corded throat, a matching pair to the bite marks on your own neck. There isn’t an ounce of hazel in his blacked out eyes, snout searching for life to rip into as he shoves it into the disembowelled stomach of one of the pitiful creatures that’d been crushed beneath his weight.

It happens under a second, one moment he’s a spec in the air and the next he stalks over the bloodied carcasses of the beasts that have been hauling your roughly through the dirt. The once firm land now withers beneath their weight, saturated with blood, their corpses sinking into the morass, swallowed by the land. Pickled.

“Azriel,” his name grates against your vocal chords. You know it’s him. He’s found you, he’s come to save you. Fresh tears wrack your body as shadows slither through the cloying fog, snapping the locks on your rubbed-raw angles as you pull them against your body.

You’re pushing forward on trembling limbs, onto your hands and knees as you crawl forward, rain washing away the grit from your excoriated skin. “Azriel,” you whimper, his body looking so warm and you know even with the wetness soaking his fur you’ll be shielded.

The metallic scent in the air evens out as he shifts into a more familiar form, his own features surfacing, sharp cheekbones splitting through his animalistic demeanour, the darkest shine of hazel breaking in his blacked out eyes. A snarling roar drags from his throat as his gaze settles on you, prowling forward.

The shifting halts, as if frozen. As if he’s struggling to return to his form. Black swallows his hazel as it’s sucked down, size doubling as he doesn’t transform back. His crushing paws sink into the marshland, wings flared wide as he stalks closer.

You still, suddenly scared. All over again.

Your name to scramble back but your abraded skin stings. You collapse back into the mud. “Azriel…” you rasp as he traps you beneath his titan-like body. A scream rips from your throat as his jaws drop open, fragments of bone falling out as they enclose over you.

You won’t even make a mouthful as the others had.

But his tongue unfurls, the wet muscle scooping you up tenderly, bringing you into the hall of his mouth as darkness writhes around the outside. A weightless sensation overcomes you as he rights himself, accompanied by the thunderous thump as leathery wings flare, shooting you into the sky as it’s blacked out.

It reeks of blood and flesh, but it’s warm. His tongue is soft, your weight sinking into the tough, slick skin, heating your bones as you melt into the cavern of his mouth. After the overpowering stench of the marsh, the scent of death isn’t that unbearable. Besides, you’re still caked in it, so you wonder who’s really got it worse as you lie on his tongue.

Fatigue weighs on your eyelids, the hotness of the muscle beneath you paired with the repetitive thump of his wings lulls you into needed sleep, darkness filling your vision as you melt into him, stiffness seeping from your bones.

————

You wake to the feeling of falling, your muscles screaming to tense as you slide from his tongue. Blinding light fills your vision, forcing your eyes to shut again. You’re plunged into a warm pool of water, the sensation oddly pleasant as you can already feel the mud being soothingly worn from your skin.

When you break the surface, you’re spluttering, hands trying to scrub your face free of muck. You dip back under, the water burning at your eyelids but it’s preferable to the gunk that’s caking your skin.

A powerful arm hooks beneath your own, lifting you effortlessly from the water, setting you on a submerged ledge that leaves the cleansing water lapping just above your collar bones. Something dry and slightly rough is pushed against your face. A towel, you realise, hands raising to scrub yourself off, to clean your eyes.

You take in your surroundings, limbs resting in the water as your strength completely drains. You’re in a warm coloured bathing area, the vast pool containing creamy looking water, thick bubbles lathering atop the surface.

Beside you, the pool shifts as Azriel settles down, shifting into a form you’re familiar with. Hazel returns to his eyes, colour dancing if you look deep enough. Your eyes trail to his mouth, noting the canines that protrude from his lips, tinted a dark red. Almost black.

He’s still far too big to be normal. You bet if you were stood beside him in his current state, his hips would line up with your rib cage. You look up at him with tired eyes, his own dark ones watching you silently. “Where were you?” You hear the break in your voice, the raspy crackle. Fresh tears fill your eyes, the events returning to you in all their blistering pain.

His brow narrows and for a moment you’re worried he’ll be angry, lock you back up in his room, take away the freedom you were afforded. But he’s brought your to this open space in favour of the washroom that connects to his chambers. Maybe it counts for something.

You grow scared when he doesn’t reply, only watching you. It feels like that’s all he’s doing. “Azriel,” you cry, softly, “where were you?” He remains silent, observing you keenly. Then, he reaches one taloned hand forward. You flinch back, water splashing as you push away from him. His lip curls at the action.

Azriel reaches again, shifting fully as his large hand wraps entirely around your legs, dragging you forward. He’s too strong for his own good, and you go under, water shoving itself into your eyes, stuffing itself into your mouth. You gasp when you’re lifted out, spluttering painfully. It’s only when he pushes the towel into your face again and your eyes are clear that you realise he’s set you between his legs.

Traitorous heat flushes your cheeks as you note his powerful arms are casually wrapped around your middle, keeping you against him. You want to be upset, angry even but all you can do is revel in the feeling of security he gives you. The press of skin against skin, solid warmth behind you. You’re pleasantly surprised by the soft brush of fur, made infinitely silkier beneath water. It’s so nice you lean back, making him grunt softly.

You stiffen. He’s completely bare. At least you still have your clothes on - dirty as they are. Initially, you’re shocked at the hard press against your lower back, then your realise he’s doing nothing to act on it. No attempts to lull you to sleep, no attempts to seduce you into jumping onto his cock. Just allowing you some peace and quiet, while keeping close by.

But you don’t want peace and quiet right now. You want to scream at him. You tip your head back, so it’s pressing against his chest - maybe your ass pushes against him a little - peering up into his dark eyes. “Back out there,” you begin, determined to get answers out of him, “my throat was stinging. Why?” He cocks his head, expression remaining blank, “your throat?” You don’t like the way he says it.

You swallow, and his eyes track the movement, following down to your chest, your nipples just hidden by the water’s surface. His hips shift behind you, legs widening - allowing you to slide against him, you realise. It’s probably pleasurable to him, you guess. Your head bobs in confirmation as you tilt your head to the side, fingers dancing over where you had felt the pain.

His pupils dilate as he takes in the expanse of your throat, the bite marks. His bite marks. His upper lip twitches, wanting to pull back from his canines in order to refresh the scars. Drink from you. Hear your blood sing for him. It doesn’t help, the way your lower back is pressing tight against him. He’d half hoped you would accept his invitation, when he’d widened the stance of his legs to allow you closer.

Azriel’s mind shudders as you shift between his thighs, lips parting to speak, “the marks. They stung.” That’s all you’re giving him. His claws twitch with the need to touch you, to feel that you’re returned to him. A grin lifts the edges of his mouth, “you were waiting for me to come find you.”

He revels in the way tell-tale warmth flushes your cheeks. You keep your gaze on his, embers slowly heating in your irises as you come back to life. “I had no such thoughts. I was convinced you were the one who had me—” you cut yourself off. It’s far too soon for you to repeat the burning pain you felt, even through memories. You swallow, forcing down emotion, “I thought you were trying to get rid of me,” you mumble, your head lowering, breaking the connection, “I thought I’d spent my use.”

You tense as his arms wind tighter around your waist, feeling as he leans over you, front pressing to your back. Cock pressing to your— You swallow. “And that made you unhappy,” he taunts, quietly beside your ear. Awareness lights your skin as his claws wrap around you, so sharp. “You didn’t like the idea of me losing interest in you,” he drawls, the tip of one razor-like talon slipping beneath the hem of your clothing. You grit your teeth, squeezing your thighs together, in attempt to make yourself smaller, shying away from his touch. “None of my kind - as you so affectionately tend to stress - would revel in abandonment. It means nothing about you.”

Your back cools as he leans against the marble edge of the bathing pool that’s large enough to easily contain a few squadrons of creatures like him. He laughs, darkly, hips shifting so he’s pressing into you from behind, “remember the night we mated?” He drawls, watching as tension lines your small body. “I told you in no uncertain terms, should you continue, you would not deny me,” he taunts, “you’d accept the joining, the breeding.” The talon slices up the inside of your clothes, splitting them in two, making it easy for him to slide them from your torso.

You gasp in shock, legs folding over one another as you frantically try to cover yourself. But his hands have dropped to your hips and you squeal as he lifts you from his lap, turning you to face him. Your cheeks flush hot as you’re torn between covering your breasts and trying to shove him off you. He has no right to hold you in such an objectifying way.

Seeing no point in attempting to push him off you, your arms wrap across your chest defensively. He raises a single brow as your hips wiggle, trying to slide from his grasp. “Let me go,” you demand softly, through your embarrassment. His mouth lifts into a mocking grin, “what will you do for me if I follow that request?”

Your lips drop open as you’re rendered speechless. He hums deep in his throat, a smug glint dancing in his eyes. Anger burns in the pit of your stomach, all the overwhelming emotions that had been tearing through you for the past few hours manifesting as seething fury, “you—” Roughly, he pulls you down into his lap, your thighs spreading as he pulls you tight against his front, breasts against his powerful chest, lower abdomen squeezing against his cock, the soft fur brushing invitingly against your stomach.

“What you need,” he drawls once your seated, forcing your head to crane upward to see him, “is a good fucking.” Your mouth drops open as his hips buck gently against your own, and you feel the mocking promise he’s giving you. You want to smack him, to scream at him. Why does he lack such a basic understanding of human emotion?

His hands have loosened around your hips, allowing you to push up from his lap, standing on weakened legs, somehow managing to keep your balance. He only laughs, shadows twining beneath your skirts and up your thighs as he keeps you where you are, “and where do you think you’re going?”

Rage gives way to despair, tears rolling down your cheeks as you tremble in his grip, “fine,” you snap, lip wobbling as you try to push his hands away. Your slim fingers catch on his claws, the razor like blades slicing into you, blood dripping into the pool. His eyes widen marginally with anger as he watches it, scents your blood on his talons. “What are you doing?” He snarls, furious with you for being so careless of your delicate human body.

But you don’t reply, you’ve already settled your thighs either side of him, hand guiding his cock to your entrance. More tears roll as you push yourself down into his lap, burning pain screaming in your abdomen. You look up at him, anguish clear in your eyes, “this is what you wanted, right?” You cry, the stinging only worsening, “so hurry up and get it over with, you beast. Fuck me. Breed me. Whatever it is you so need to do to me.” You’re hitting your fist weakly on his chest as his hands hurriedly move to your hips, so careful not to nick at your skin. “Just get it over with.”

He’s panicked, unaccustomed to the foreign feeling of tension in his throat, heart pounding as he lifts you off his lap. “Don’t,” he snarls at you, anger coating his words as his eyes flick to your hands, bleeding steadily. He shifts into the form he’d been in when you’d met in the forest, claws shrinking into nails, fur disappearing entirely as he frame smallens. “Stop hurting yourself,” he growls, pushing you away from him slightly, panicked eyes flicking between your hands and teary eyes. It’s disarming seeing you like this.

“You wanted it!” You cry back at him, shoulders hunching over as you move to bring your bloody hands to wipe away the tears. He grabs your wrists firmly, jerking them away from your face as he glared at you. “Calm. Down.” Something snaps inside of you. You thrash in his hold, violently writhing, sending water spraying into his eyes.

“Fuck off, Azriel! My back is in pieces, I’ve been dragged for hours across a freezing wasteland, you’ve— you keep doing this. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” You can feel your throat tearing as you scream the words, hot paths of water cascading down your cheeks heavily. You want to claw at him, want to punch him, rip his skin from his body with your teeth. He’s unfairly strong. You know you can’t do anything. Meanwhile he can restrain you without even touching you.

You don’t even notice as his hands release your wrists. You fall forward into his chest, sobbing as you slam your fist over his heart over and over, pounding on his cage as if it’ll open up for you if you knock loud enough. “I hate you, I hate you so much!” You collapse against him, sobs still wracking your body.

It’s as though you’re bathing in hot milk and honey, the warm water licking at your wounds, numbing their pain. He’s warm beneath your fingertips, solid warmth beneath your fists. Unshakeable. It’s so unfair. Why can’t you be like him? Why don’t you get to have skin seemingly made of the thickest leather, talons that’ll slice should anyone get too close? You sob harder, tears dropping to the pool. Why are you so weak?

His arms wind around you, almost gingerly. His hands span your shoulders, tucking you against his chest as his shadows skitter across your back, soothing coolness blanketing your skin. You sniff, peering up at him. You almost regret it. His eyes are hard, cold. Glittering malevolence sprawling in their depths. More tears roll as the spark in your chest douses itself. It’s clear he has no attachment to you, only having saved you because you’ve been mated and bred.

Then you freeze.

His hands pull away from you, one wrapping around your wrist as he lifts it to his mouth. His eyelids flutter almost imperceptibly as he uses his thumb to separate your fingers. It’s almost tender as his lips part, licking up the blood that’s ebbing from your slim digits, trailing up to the small cuts. You hiss instinctively, expecting pain, but instead you only feel a vague tingle. It’s kind of nice, actually.

Azriel’s tongue laps over each of your cuts, sealing them so there isn’t even a mark left in their place. When he’s finished, he doesn’t release your wrist. Instead he guides your hands to splay across his shoulders, forehead pressing against your own. “Your back isn’t in pieces,” he murmurs over your mouth, making your brow furrow. You guess it isn’t stinging as it had been, but you had chalked that up to numb adrenaline.

“I know it is,” you snap softly, “I felt every sharp rock, every piece of gritty mud that abraded me.” His eyes lose their harsh cut, the edges mellowing every so slightly. “I carried you in my mouth,” he reminds, lips brushing over yours, making your hairs stand on end, “your back was on my tongue the whole flight. I could taste you.”

Heat flushes your cheeks as you pull back suddenly. His hands automatically tighten on you but relax when he sees you’re not attempting to escape. I could taste you. How can he say that with a straight face. And even after everything that’s happened, you’re left with a singular thought circling your mind. Did I taste good?

You don’t have a chance to foolishly voice the question as his hands lower to your hips, lifting you with him as he stands. Instinctively, your arms wrap over his shoulders and you hiss at the movement, a stinging feel coming from between your legs. He sets you down on the edge of the bathing pool, the cooks tiles pleasant against your thighs. “What— Azriel?” You question, confusion prominent in your tone.

Carefully, despite his now shortened nails, his hands press against your shoulders. The tips of his fingers dip beneath your sodden, still grimy clothes - now the only part of you that was dirty. Finally, your skin can properly breathe as he guides the wet fabric away from your tender skin, slowly stripping you down until you’re completely bare. His eyes drink you in, brow narrowing as he notices a few bruises - ones that are not from him.

His eyes settle on yours as he pushes your legs apart, gently. You resist, scared. You’re stinging, and you don’t want him to hurt you. “What are you doing, Azriel?” You ask, mouth trembling at the looming threat of pain. At this, his demeanour shifts, sending your fear. His hands moves to your waist, thumb brushing over your hip bone, “you’re hurting,” he replies, as if it’s answer.

“I don’t want you to fuck me again,” you manage, your words soft and small, scared he won’t listen. That he’ll inflict more damage upon your already battered body. His lips quirk at the edges, “I won’t.” Then he’s lowering himself into the water, until he’s between your thighs, spreading them.

Oh.

Oh.

Saliva contains healing properties.

Carefully, he lifts one leg over his broad shoulder, then the other. Even now, your muscles tremble slightly, remembering the rigour they’ve gone through. You brace for canines, but are instead rewarded by the gentle lap of his tongue. You could almost cry at the feeling as your cunt tingles, the feeling that was zipping through your fingers when he sealed the cuts.

Almost immediately, you feel better, his saliva coating your heat as his tongue heals you. There’s still a vaguely piercing sting coming from inside, but it’s bearable. You wince when you shift your leg, pain prickling beneath your abdomen.

Inadvertently, you meet his gaze and you know he saw the reaction. His brow narrows. Swallow your tongue and be surprised when you choke, he’d once muttered to you. And now you can’t shake the urge to tell him. It’s like a strange compulsion. And he keeps watching you, with those dark, knowing eyes.

“Azriel,” you whisper, scared. He stops, giving you his attention, something surfacing in his black eyes. “I—… It’s still hurting,” you mumble. “Where? I can heal it,” he reassures. The second you articulate that emotion, you freeze, brow tightening in confusion. You swallow, shifting then stilling as you ache. “Inside,” you mumble, barely managing the word, shame crawling beneath your skin.

A grin lifts his lips, and suddenly he’s pulling away from you. “Stay there,” he orders, gently, as power thrums in the air, that same frenetic static as before. His eyes lock onto yours as he begins shifting, “don’t run from me.”

Then his eyes are swallowed by pitch darkness, wings largening, fur lining his body as he grows. His talons return, as long as you are, longer. His hands shift into those paws that can so easily crush things your size as his features are swallowed by more animalistic ones, snout protruding.

Oh.

You suddenly understand why this bathing pool is so vast. It’s built to house him in any form, including this one.

You realise he’s halted his growth, keeping himself from filling the room as you’re sure he would should he completely transform into that beastly body. Instead it a vague in between. He’s probably triple your size, if not more. Maybe a quarter of his true form. You fight against the instinctive urge to run, remembering it’s him.

His pitch eyes drink you in, prowling forward, all the while not making a sound. You keep still, scared but not feeling in danger. It’s an odd combination. He stops in front of you, your back arching as you peer up at him. It takes a lot of will power to not look at what’s most likely directly in front of you.

“Azriel?” You whisper, unsurely. His eyes glint, and you recognise him. Even with his usual features twisted into a more animalistic light, your body recognises him as an integral part of yourself - not something to fear.

Shadows swirl at your body, lapping over your skin like waves. He moves forward, dipping down to be between your legs. You still, “what are you—” He cuts you off when his jaw opens, the wet muscle of his tongue rolling out. Your eyes snap open, lips parting in shock. The end is tapered, but thickens the closer it gets to his mouth. Oh gods.

“Azriel,” you stammer, “you’re not going to…?” He releases a puff of breath over you and you’re the most taken aback that you’ve been this evening. “Did you just laugh?” You inquire, disbelievingly. His eyes spark and you squeal when his tongue moves, dragging down your chest, over your perky nipples, settling between your legs. He huffs again at your surprise, and the tension leaves your body.

The tip of his tongue presses against your entrance, and you brace.

Your cheeks heat when he slides in, embarrassingly easily.

All your thoughts melt away as he fills you, saliva already working it’s powers as that pleasant tingling feeling blossoms across your lower abdomen. Your lips part and his shadows guide you back so you aren’t sat upright: reclining into the darkness.

Pure pleasure sings in your body as he starts moving, tongue pulsing inside of you as it slides gently in and out. Your back arches in response, hands cupping your breasts as sensitivity lights you up. His shadows don’t allow that, though. They twine gently around your wrists, replacing your hands as they flick at your nipples, refreshing cool, like a breeze on a hot summer day.

“Azriel…” you pant, peeking your eyes open. He’s already watching. Of course he is. Your toes curl, knowing he’s drinking in every second of your pleasure. You bite the inside of your lip as arousal coils in the pit of your stomach, already about set to spring free. “I’m—” you pant as he grazes a spot inside of you, mouth dropping open as you melt entirely into his shadows.

A growl of pleasure rumbles through his chest, and it feels so fucking good. Silver lines your eyes, flying closer and closer to that high. “Azzie,” you squeak softly, hardly a breath. A scream tears from you as he growls again, tongue vibrating inside you, the base of it pushing against your clit as you hit your peak.

Your back curves as the growls lose their harsh edge, softening as he feels you fluttering around him. He’s purring. His tongue retracts after the last aftershock has faded, shifting into his more recognisable form.

You don’t even think about it as you reach your hands out, making to grab at him. His brow narrows as he slowly prowls forward, “do you need something?” He asks softly, curiosity lying beneath the bland tone. “Come here,” you snap. His brow raises but for once, he obeys.

The second he’s in reach, your arms loop around his neck, tugging him into your chest as your legs circle his torso, locking around him tightly. You bury your nose in his hair, inhaling that scent that is so inherently him, so deliciously soothing. The feeling of his strong body encompassing you sends a shivering thrill humming through you, lighting you with incandescence.

You press kisses into his hair and his eyes widen, muscles locking up. He’s not sure what you’re doing. But he likes it. He likes feeling your soft skin beneath his cheek, having your thighs hugging his waist while your arms keep him tucked against you. He likes the feeling of your mouth pressing tenderly against him, repeatedly.

He decides it’s a good sign. A display of human affection.

Something tingles in his chest at the idea.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

#Azriel x reader #demon! Azriel #demon!azriel x reader #Teeth and Talons #Teeth and Talons part 3 #[***] #Azriel smut #Azriel fluff

[brother-emperors]

When you talk about Philippino history and then Roman history, as a Venezuelan it's been making me think about our history and like, I've always thought there's a lot of similarity there but now it's like...its so similar. Your house is haunted too! I always think about how we won wars against the colonizers but their ghosts are still there, and they still sit at the dinner table with us every night. Your work is so cool, I feel like I can extend that train of thought further through time. I've never been interested in Rome but now I kinda am!

Venezuela 🤝the Philippines: being haunted houses (colonized by Spain)

also that is so SO real, the ghosts really are with us!! THEY ARE AT!!! OUR DINNER TABLES!!!!! ngl, once you start noticing it, it's impossible to NOT notice how they've crawled into the spaces and just. stayed.

ancient Rome is so weird for it too, because if you asked me about it, I wouldn't immediately put ancient Rome down for haunting the Philippines, except for the fact that like Catholicism, it's fucking everywhere. it's gotten in the cracks and spaces between the walls. On the stage of theater, Nadres' Hanggang dito na lamang at maraming salamat: the main character is named after Julius Caesar

Closet Queeries, J. Niel C. Garcia

and so many people are named after figures from ancient Rome (I know enough Mark Anthonys I've run out of differentiating nicknames for everyone) that it rivals Catholic saints for naming conventions. neo classical architecture had it's moment in the sun in Manila, our ilustrados brought some of it back when they returned from Spain to call for reform, and then independence, and I am struggling to hold back a plague-infection comparison about that. like, something else crept in with Spain, and like Spain's ghosts, it Did Not Leave.

but on the other hand! there's a long, centuries long, tradition of using the events of the Fall of the Republic to discourse, discuss, to vent or call for action, current events. it provides a interlocutor when something hurts too much to say directly, it provides a stage to explore a tragedy that echoes in our own histories, it gives a script to voice an ideal that a government might otherwise put down. how many centuries have we used Brutus (and Cassius) to rail against Tyranny, and how many centuries with equal enthusiasm have people used Julius Caesar as a martyr to justify the rights of Kings and Empires? these things are equally as important (in a different way) from the ancient events that actually transpired. (this specific topic, of Brutus & the Assassination of Caesar and it's literary revivals in history, are the focus of The Brutus Revival, Manfredi Piccolomini)

and the cores of these things conflict with each other, but in that friction, it's like there's an invitation to sit down and think for a minute. to look back at history and feel it's immediacy in the present.

ANYWAY I got carried away, but I am glad!! that my stuff could make Rome interesting!!! I hope that you find new doors of thoughts to explore!!!!!!!

#holding this ask in my heart forever thank u for sending this anon #ask tag #idk sometimes i draw goofy shit because its fun. and gay stuff because I Like Men ofc im going to explore things thru that lens #but also. i feel a little like im trying to look at this lurking ghost of imperialism without. addressing it directly #my love for spectacle and drama directly against knowing that the historical horror is not. that far removed. heugh. #so this meant a lot to me!! i feel seen in a good way. thank u again!

[bethanythebogwitch]

There are some animals that, if they didn't exist and somebody made them up, we would say they had an overactive imagination. The bobbit worm is one of those creatures, the closest we have to a real-life Mongolian death worm. So for this Wet Beast Wednesday, I'll tell you about just how weird it is.

(image: a rare full-body shot of a bobbit worm)

Before we start, I want to go on a brief tangent. What exactly is a worm? Well it turns out that like fish, worms aren't real. At least they aren't from a taxonomist's perspective. In common parlance, we refer to any long, skinny, and (usually) legless invertebrate as a worm. In taxonomy, that is far too broad of a category, especially as lots of animal lineages would have started out as something a lot like a worm and you can't stop being what your evolutionary ancestors were. Instead, taxonomists classify worms into multiple distinct phyla that independently converged onto the worm body plan, including the platyhelminths, nematodes, nemerteans, and annelids. The bobbit worm (Eunice aphroditos) is an annelid, which are known for their multiple body segments. More specifically, it is a polychaete or bristle worm, which are known for having a pair of fleshy protrusions called parapodia on each body segment, which have chitinous bristles called chaetae growing from them. There is some debate that the bobbit worm may actually be a species complex, which is when multiple related species are mistakenly classified as a single species.

(image: a bobbit worm found in an aquarium)

Bobbit worms are the largest of the polychaetes, with the largest known specimen being 299 cm (9.81 ft) long. They are also rather skinny, usually reaching no more than 2.5 cm (1 in) wide. Bobbit worms have a wide range of coloration, ranging from brown to black and often with a rainbow of other colors going down their bodies. You might not notice this, however, because they spend most of their time burrowing under the sand in their Indo-Pacific coral reef habitats. This provides protection from predators and is important to their hunting strategy. Bobbit worms will stick their heads out of the sand and wait while their 5 antennae use chemosensitive and light-sensing cells to detect when fish pass by. When a fish comes too close, the worm strikes. They use a set of retractable jaws that are razor sharp and come together like scissors to bite the fish. This bit is strong enough to cut small fish in half. It is rumored that this is the source of their name, from the Lorena Bobbit case. I will not elaborate further, google it if you don't know. Those fish that are not killed immediately will find themselves bleeding out and paralyzed from venom injected through the jaws as they are dragged into the worm's burrow to be eaten. There are some reports that the wom's chaetae are also venomous and that handling them barehanded can cause permenent numbness, but this does not appear to be the scientific consensus. The worms will also feed on seaweed and other algae, making them omnivorous.

(gif: a bobbit worm catching a fish)

The borrows made by bobbit worms are dug out of the sediment and coated with mucus. The worm uses its chaetae to move in and out of the burrow. The mucus if filled with nutrients that bacteria, particularly sulfate-reducing bacteria, absolutely love. This allows iron sulfides to accumulate in the mucus. When exposed to oxygen in the water, usually at the opening of the burrow, the sulfides will become iron hydroxides. These help reinforce the burrow's opening. Bobbit worms rarely leave their burrows and will retreat at the first sign of danger, making it very hard to spot them in the wild. Several fossilized burrows have been found, one dating to 20 million years ago. Another burrow of a similar animal, possibly an ancient relative of the bobbits, was found dating to 400 millions years ago.

(image: a bobbit worm head with jaws extended)

Bobbit worms reproduce externally. At night, a female will emerge from her burrow and release pheromones that attract males. She will then release her eggs into the water. The males will follow by releasing sperm, allowing for fertilizations. The majority of larvae will die before reaching adulthood. There are rumors that females withh bite off the male's genitals to feed to her young, but this is not true. Bobbit worms can also reproduce asexually by splitting. When handles, a bobbit worm can split itself into multiple sections, each of which can grow into another identical worm. This is a common adaptation in polychaetes as it allows them to survive if a part of them is eaten.

(image: a bobbit worm just sitting there, menacingly)

Bobbit worms have become a nuisance species in aquariums. They are usually introduced as tiny larvae clinging to rocks brought in for decoration or shelter. Once in an aquarium, the worms can grow rapidly and will eat any fish in the tank. Removing them can be very difficult due to their size, regenerative abilities, and reclusive nature. One famous case that introduced a lot of the internet to the worms was that of the Newquay aquarium in England. Aquarium staff were confused when a lot of the fish were vanishing from one tank and the coral was damaged. They tried laying traps, but the intruder ate the fishhooks they used and could bite through 20 lb fishing line. Finally, they lured it out with food, finding a 4 foot long bobbit worm that they named Barry. Barry became a hit online and was moved to his own tank. There apparently were plans to put him on exhibit, but I can't find confirmation that this ever happened. Given that this happened in 2009 and the bobbit worm lifespan is 3-5 years, I am sorry to tell you that Barry has passed away. RIP, king.

(image: Barry after being removed from the tank. His drab color is thought to be the result of poor nutrition)

Because of how reclusive they are, bobbit worms are an understudied species. Attempts to raise them in laboratories have mostly failed, so there is a lot we don't know about their reproduction, development, and behavior. We also don't know if they need any conservation efforts.

How many times in this series am I going to be able to use cards from this series? (image: the bobbit worm card from Weird n' Wild Creatures)

#wet beast wednesday #marine biology #biology #zoology #bobbit worm #animal facts #worm #annelids #polychaete #images #barry the bobbit worm #late again #forgot to prep a post