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#sea turtle hospital
sitting-on-me-bum · 1 year
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A female loggerhead turtle clears her nostrils after surfacing for air in her treatment tank after she was brought to Miami Zoo’s new Sea Turtle hospital. The turtle was rescued from the Port St Lucie Power Plant after a shark attack left its left fin with exposed bone
Photograph: Ron Magill/AP
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cameronspecial · 3 months
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idea for angel valentines
maybe a parallel to their favorite moment together? like naybe the first date and rafe recreates it
Let Me Recreate It, Angel
Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: N/A
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 0.6K
Masterlist
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Last year’s Valentine’s Day didn’t go as Rafe wanted to plan. Going to the hospital on a romantic day wasn’t exactly a great way to spend the holiday. So he is determined to make this one the best that he can. What better way to bring the romance alive on this day than by recreating all their favourite moments together? She comes down the stairs wearing the dress she wore on their first date and a massive grin on her face. “You look like a vision as always, Angel,” Rafe compliments, wrapping his arm around her lower back with a kiss on her cheek. She smiles, “And you are very handsome.” He spins her around and takes her over to the couch. “Now, my beautiful angel, we are starting this date off with having a little downtime with Tabs,” he informs. He walks her over to the couch and plops her on his lap. Y/N giggles, “You hate Tabitha. You say she takes me away from you.” “I don’t hate her. She’s our first baby. I just get jealous.” The beginning of the date being something just between them is the perfect way to start. They call over the feline and cuddle with her for about thirty minutes until Rafe deems it time to go out. 
———
Y/N’s hand rests in the cool water, watching as the animal approaches her. Rafe’s arm is wrapped around her waist so she doesn’t fall in while his other is also placed in the water. As the stingray nears, the couple reaches forward to touch the smooth skin. It feels the same way as it did the first time they came here for a date. They get to feel the sea creature and straighten up. He laces his wet fingers with hers. They find a paper towel at the exit and Rafe rips them a piece off to dry their hands. He brings her to the gift shop, roaming around with her for a bit. Her eyes light up at a giant stuffed turtle that probably weighs more than a small child. It’s impractical, but she wants it. His mouth touches the edge of her ear, “If you can carry that to the cash register, I’ll buy it for you.” He is going to buy it either way, he just wants entertainment first. She reaches up and pulls the toy off of the shelf, stumbling backwards from the weight. Rafe’s hand meets her lower back so she doesn’t fall. She waddles to the cash register, placing it on the counter with a satisfied smile. 
———
The last stop on their Valentine’s date is the pub. At this point, Y/N doesn’t understand what Rafe is doing with this date. “This is where we had our first date,” she notes, looking up at him with big eyes. He nods, “Yes. Let me recreate it, Angel. That’s what I’ve been trying to do all day. Recreate all our favourite moments.” “Aww, I love that idea. And it’s good because I am starving and I remember everything we ordered when we were here,” she exclaims. She takes his hand and tugs him inside. The host smiles and is going to lead them to a table when Rafe tells her that he reserved the table they sat at on their first date. He pulls Y/N’s chair out for her and helps her onto the tall chair. There is another hockey game on, so the ambiance feels the same way as that day. Add on the burger, nachos, wings, and fries they order and it is the perfect way to go down memory road together.
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming
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I’m probably asking too much with this one, but if you’re willing to may I request a second part to see no evil? Where price and reader deal with the aftermath of what happened, just price being overprotective and worried about reader and not wanting to leave her side snd somehow blaming himself for what happened to her, you’re the best💖
Origami Boats
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Pairing: John Price x F!Reader
Synopsis: Wounds of the mind are harder to heal than wounds of the body. But can John ever stop blaming himself?
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: Referenced past stalking, past injuries & bodily trauma, blood, stitches, angst, protective!Price, eventual fluff, hurt/comfort
A/N: Loosely connected to See No Evil, can still be read as a stand-alone. Enjoy, Anon!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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The bandages came off one after the other, but the thick wrappings around your ribs and abdomen stayed. Tight. Constricting. Incredibly difficult to walk around with and even worse to try and sleep on. But the stitches still hadn’t dissolved yet—and thus, there they would stay for two more weeks. 
“Erm,” you grunt, struggling into one of John’s old t-shirts and feeling the pull of irritated flesh. Gritting your teeth, your head slips through the top, arms following after like a turtle popping out of its shell as the scent of your boyfriend’s beard oil sticks to your nostrils. 
You’d been discharged from the hospital seven days ago; John as well, though he had been able to leave a while before due to the less severe shot to his right shoulder. No one was really surprised when he’d stubbornly proclaimed that he’d be staying behind to watch over you—the doctors and nurses had tried to intervene, though you can only sway a Captain so far from the people he cares about. 
Truth be told if he hadn’t been there you don’t know if you’d be as alright as you were now. 
“What did I say about straining yourself?” The voice in the bedroom doorway makes you freeze, fingers twitching as a swift inhale causes your lungs to burn. 
But the shadow, accented by the hallway light like a silhouette of some old spartan warrior was familiar down to the make-up of his bones. The great size of a wide chest and shoulders—a brunette beard and thick hair. 
“It’s a shirt, John,” you whisper, voice still fragile. Doctors had advised it was unwise to raise your tone too high. Muscle tears and injuries to the joints in between your vertebrae were only the beginning of the effects of being strangled. It leads to dizziness some days; facial pain as well as horrible headaches. Smiling, you flatten the fabric and turn. “I won’t break.”
“Hm,” John comes out of the light, stoic facial features subdued in your presence. “Never said you would.” 
His warm grip finds your waist, pulling you carefully to him. The man’s shoulder was still sensitive, nothing he’d not gone through before, but Laswell had insisted on him taking Leave. John wasn’t going to say no. Not when it gave him more time to care for you. 
He breathes into you now, a great heaving sigh that echoes off the walls of the far-removed safehouse that he’d secured for the two of you. 
“You should be in bed. It’s early.” John’s large head nuzzles into yours, and your fingers delve under the loose material of his top, content to flatten your hand over his abdomen and feel the heat of blood. A pulse. 
Your digits massage the flesh slowly, and if the Brit could purr he would.
Rolling your eyes at his muffled comment you huff, “I spend too much time in bed. If you had your way you’d have me anchored to it.” 
The short bout of deep chuckles makes your eyes flicker shut in contentment; fingers go over the back of your spine, filtering over the bulge of wrappings. 
“Negative. I quite enjoy seein’ my girl up and about.” Great muscles move as John pulls back, hand cupping your cheeks. You stare up into his baby blue eyes; shade like a storm at sea with flecks of lighting trapped like mist. His gaze flickers over your old cuts—the tiny ones from pieces of glass that had healed incredibly fast. An expression filters over his face so quickly you nearly miss it as it’s gone the next second. John sighs, speaking lowly. “But you need to heal, eh? Keep your strength.”
“Then I suppose it would be the perfect time to tell you I want to walk around the back trail?” Your digits grip his iron wrists softly, thumbs along the backs as they brush back and forth as if his scarred flesh was made of the most expensive silk. 
John’s lips tighten, eyes going half-narrowed in a display of refusal. You’re the only person who he’d let interrupt him, and just so, you do before he can get a word out.
“Ten minutes.” You tilt your head and kiss his palm—hopeful that your wide, melted, eyes will gain favor. The Brit's frown deepens with a pull of his eyebrows, watching downward as his hips trade weight. You lean closer. “I promise.” 
The house holds its breath.
“...You’ll be the end of me, you will.” It’s a grumbled reply of gravel and gargoyle speech, but the blue that darts away to your shoes in contemplation was a sign you’d already won. 
John could never really say no to you.
Carefully giggles wafted through the open bedroom door, carting over the living room where books and loose paper sit in piles on a coffee table; a week’s worth of activities used to pass the time shown in the dented pillows on the couch. A collection of fresh bandages and gauze in the bathroom. Cleaned plates in the kitchen and forks sitting to dry in the sink, dripping water in the bright light of a morning filled with orange and yellow light. 
The Captain pulls a hand away, jokingly pointing it into your face—though his face was serious. You stare with a wide smile. 
“Ten minutes on the back trail. First limp I see I’m carrying you back. Willing or not.”
“Deal.” You slither out of his hold and hurry out the hallway, ignoring the stern call to be careful from behind you. 
You’d been unable to leave the safehouse for more than a breath of fresh air since being discharged—John himself an ever-present shadow to hold onto your elbow as if a bolder would come and take your legs out. This switch-up wasn’t a surprise to you. 
A Captain is still a Captain, on and off the field. He takes care of his own; it was his nature to be protective of the people he loved. Even if John was injured himself and stayed up at night with a sharp eye on the windows and doors. 
“Easy with it!” Blue eyes stare heavily at the wall outside the bedroom door, ears twitching to the sound of shoes being grabbed and small puffs of exerted air. 
John let his lashes flutter over his cheeks, a hand coming up to rub at the bags that live on his face like black and blue bruises. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been pushing his defense of you to another level—some nights he never fell asleep because the house was settling too much; creaks on the floor or flickering from the hallway’s bathroom light that he keeps on. 
But you’d been hurt because he had been too late. Nearly bled out. 
“Christ…” John sighs, hand going to brush his bloated shoulder. The reminder of the bullet going through his flesh was but a distant memory like all the others, though the feeling of your dead weight in his arms as he crashed to the ground would never leave him. Like a mountain on his chest. A curse. 
He could feel your heartbeat….slowing. Failing like a faulty wire. 
His fault.
“John?” Your voice snaps him back—away from pouring rain and a blood-stained puddle on soggy ground. The Captain tilts his head downward and lightly shakes it, glaring at the floor. “Come on! Maybe we can see some of those birds we’ve been hearing.” 
“Yes, Love.” 
Laswell had given him the location of the most rural safehouse she could under the guise of saying it would help get your mind off of everything. The paranoia of being hunted down in the very city you’d lived in for years like an animal. 
As John exited the bedroom and he made his way to the foyer, he silently blessed the Agent with every fiber of his being. Not only did the smile on your face make his own aches and pains fade but this also gave him the opportunity to look for a new house for the two of you to share. No way was he making you go back to the location where crimson was still soaked into the hardwood and brain matter was stuck to the walls. 
That just wasn't an option.
“Eager, then?” A flicker of a grin peels back his beard as he grabs a light jacket and his beanie from the coat rack. You only grab into the meat of John’s arm and drag him outside, shouldering open the door with delicate giggles as your eyes watch the brunette’s grunt of surprise and widening lids.
The sun streams with new dawn; long grass copper in a fire of translucent wisps and a fog that stays ankle-high. Flowers in shades of deep mauve and the color of the old blue teapot that sits on the kitchen counter—delicate petals that corral a dirt path and trap the car in the natural driveway. 
“C’mon!” You say again, not brushing off the arms that grab your waist and help you down the double steps, but still throwing an exasperated glare into a pair of eyes that narrow right back amusingly. 
An infection of joy hits your heart and you’re laying a peck on John’s nose right as his cheeks go red, eyebrows peeling upwards. Loftiness reminiscent of flying lays a sheen over his gaze and a hum of content meets morning-chilled air. 
“Hmm. You missed.” 
“Oh,” your head tilts, the Captain guiding you slowly down the road where the walking trail extends back into a fairly extensive copse of trees. “Did I?” 
Leaning into his chest as he grunts in mock annoyance, your head nudges into John with a heat on the tips of your ears; laughing softly as the scents of dew and dirt get trapped in your nostrils. This far out from the city, you wonder how you ever lived with the sound of cars and construction. People shouting over one another.
A pair of lips meet your scalp, feeling adoring eyes stuck to your form as the trees shroud you in a nymph’s shadow. Delicate footprints walking over the same ground. 
“Everything feelin’ alright?” John asks a few minutes in, maneuvering you around a fallen log as you stare off and watch a pair of Roe deer disappear into the foliage, black eyes for a moment locking with your own. 
A distant nod is all you give, blinking and re-focusing only to find the leaves rustling from a fleeing body of coarse reddish-brown fur. You turn to John, admitting, “Just a little sore. You?”
“We’ll head back in a bit, eh?” The hand on your waist squeezes carefully for a second, only dull thumps of blood making themselves known to your vulnerable state. “Change the bandages and fix breakfast.” 
Staring up at John you’re about to ask how his own shoulder is—as he’d totally glossed over your concern—when you see it just past his visage. Your feet slow to a stop and automatically your Lover’s does as well, sending a concerned gleam your way. 
“Love?” Your lips pull into a tight frown. 
Across the way, placed into a small patch of creeping sunlight and surrounded by the long arms of ferns sits a single growth of flowering orchids. They were white, glowing nearly with how they caught the rays. 
It wasn’t like you wanted to respond the way you did, your arms coming up to wrap your chest and body going to drop a few degrees, but wounds of the mind weren’t as easy to heal as the physical ones. Perhaps that was another reason Laswell had shown her insistence. The country meant quiet; peace. 
But no one could account for a fear of flowers. Specifically white orchids.
John’s head immediately snaps to where you look, body tense, but when his eyes fall to the small plant his thoughts go back to the flora you’d described getting at work. 
The ones that always kept coming week after week. The cards stuck to a small metal holder with red ink poems. 
Lightly pushing you back, your body is enshrouded in a jacket quicker than you can breathe down stiff breaths; the weight forming on your shoulders. It had to be more than a coincidence then, that the smell of rain clouds came in from the North as John tries to calm you.
Rainstorms and flowers. 
Your chest was burning as a hand captured your cheek, dragging back your black-shrowded vision like a wave. Mouth dry and limbs shaking.
“Hey,” John whispers, gruff but patient. 
“It’s alright.” Your fingers tighten over the coat sides, drawing comfort from the familiar scents of oil and smoke. “I’m okay, John. R-really.”
Blue eyes flicker over yours and lips fall into a still line as a pause leaves the bushes dancing in a fast breeze. A stiff inhalation lets you know what the man thought of your blatant lie.
“Just look at me, copy? I’m right here, Sweetheart.” A quiet sigh caresses your flesh. The sound makes your nose sting, heat trapped around your neck and pulsing in your abdomen that borders on painful. “We’re both right here. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”
You nod weakly, feet almost wobbly with a horrible rush of adrenaline. Your stomach flips like a roller coaster.
John’s eyebrows crease tightly, and he’s guiding you back down the trail with a hand on your back not milliseconds later. A final comment trapped on his breath as you shove yourself into him for comfort. 
“Bloody count on it, alright? Not while I’m still standing.” 
But his hand can still feel you shaking, and the small droplets of rain pelting the ground only make it worse. No thinking, he drops his beanie on your head as well to keep your head dry, hurrying you back as he glares at his feet with a stone jaw. 
So much for fresh fuckin’ air. 
Poison eyes turn behind him to find stark white entrapped by green. If looks could light fire…
Back at the house, you fiddle with your fingers on the couch, wrapped in a thin linen blanket John had found in one of the closets—subtly flinching at the pound of rain as clinking cups echo from the kitchen. You catalog the scars over your flesh. The long and crude ones from glass; circular blemishes near your wrists from burst blisters and desperate struggling. 
John watches from the doorway, tea tray in his hands and wound muscles that leave his digits clenching over it like a vise. 
It wasn’t fair, he thought, that you should have to feel like this. Having to relearn your own skin like it was a foreign entity clothing you; a new shirt or a pair of pants. Fibers of strung injuries that intertwine to weave a story that he can’t but blame himself for. 
If he’d just gotten home quicker than he…
“John…?” He realizes he’d been staring when you tilt your head at him quizzically, those tender vocal cords still scratchy in a way that makes the Brit cringe in pain as if it was his own. Lord, the Bastard had wrapped his hands around your throat. His girl’s throat. “Why are you just standing there?”
“Sorry, Love.” He utters, avoiding your gaze as he walks over on firm feet. Clearing his throat. “Must’ve been off for a minute.” 
“...You’re not going to stay up all night again, are you?” Your question has him freezing, tray just about to hit the coffee table before John delicately lowers it the rest of the way after a swift pause. His eyes blink quickly in surprise, side-eyeing you. “You look tired.”
Your face is grim. You…you shouldn’t be concerned about him.
“Didn’t know you knew about that.” He settles, grunting before he sits back and pours you a cup of Chamomile. “You were supposed to be sleeping.”
“I hear you check the locks every night at twelve. Dragging yourself away from bed and coming back only to stay up and listen to every noise. Your gun is only a quick movement away on the nightstand.” Your body shifts, moving yourself to straddle the Brit’s lap and forcing his arms back to his chest. His form huffs quietly as you settle, eyes locking on his wrapped shoulder and the shirt that lets white peak from behind textile. “Don’t try and act like I’m not seeing it for what it is.” Tone drops, and the walls of the house close in with dim lights; fingers flinching forward with every pitter-patter of droplets from beyond the barriers. “You… you don’t answer me when I ask how you’re feeling. It’s like…you’re punishing yourself.” 
“I’m—” John cuts himself off, silently baffled at how much you noticed. He had thought he was being discreet. A minute later and the weight on his chest is crushing him, eyes closing with a harsh sigh and causing his head to shake back and forth; his neck craning to the side. 
You stare in agony, fingers going to brush John’s beard and calling him back to you like a ghost of smoke and calluses. “Please, John, don’t blame yourself for this. I can’t stand it anymore.” 
“My job was to protect you.” He speaks like he’s confessing sins. Head high but optics stuck to your neck, hands going to sit on the swell of your hips as the world outside floods. Failing lights play off the strands of brown hair atop his head and you go to brush them into submission. “I couldn’t.”
Pressing your lips to his forehead, John can’t find it in himself to pull back. He falls into you with fatigued eyes and can finally admit to the burning pain in his shoulder. The sutures had been aggravated for days, but he’d never taken the time to check them. 
As if sensing this—by instinct or by startling intuition, John knew not—you pull back and tug at his shirt. Obediently, the Captain takes the article from his form and lets you unwrap the bloody gauze from the wound. He listens when you speak, shivering at the brush of your nails as they catch on his skin like a glorious knife. 
Forehead to your neck and nose under your chin, you take your free hand and push him deeper into you. 
“Your job was never to take care of me, Love. Our job is to take care of each other. And we…we’re just doing the best that we can right now.” The bandages fall to the side, and he feels your breath get caught. John’s eyes flutter shut, jaw clenching. “That’s all that we can do. That’s all anyone can do. We’re not machines—no matter what you tell yourself when you should be sleeping. What you are,” you move to look down at him, and his lid peels back just a fraction to show you cerulean and ocean storms. Smiling at him softly, your eyes are sticky with love and dripping liquid affection, “is who I want to spend the rest of my life with, John. But we have to get better first.”
He wonders how someone like you can still stand to be around him. How could you still love him? But your words do something—brings something back into focus. 
John stares with unabashed devotion. Unbridled tenderness that defines worship of the purest form. Your finger hooks his chin and he lets you move him as he stares with parted lips.
Head tilting, your opposite thumb massages red flesh until the pain lessons like it was never there to begin with. The Captain practically melts.
“Okay?” His lips softly meeting yours is all the answer you get, but it’s also all you need. 
When new bandages are re-wrapped and captivating words are exchanged in the warm lights of the living room, you find yourself stuffed into the clutch of the man’s good arm, watching his large fingers fold white paper as he hums a song under his breath. 
“What is it?” Your voice breaks the silence, calm finally settling in your bones. John wouldn’t leave you tonight, nor any night after. 
The brunette takes a glance down at you and smirks, his shirt left on the coffee table. Your blanket covers the both of you in a cocoon of warmth that the man simply exudes naturally.
“Origami boat.” John pauses his rapid movements, tilting the piece so you can see the folds and sharp edges. You blink in curiosity. “My father showed me how to make them a long time ago. Ages now. Haven't made ‘em in years.” 
“Does it work?” A small sound echoes from the back of his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Not a clue. Let's see then, shall we, Love?” 
Standing on the porch, you watch John’s form get soaked as he carries the small object to the stream at the end of the road, laughing gleefully when his re-situated shirt gets stuck to his skin and shows off his muscles. 
Placing it down, the brunette lightly jogs back, hopping the steps and coming up to wrap an arm over you.
“Hey!” You huff, shucking off the heavy limb from your banket. “You’ll get me soaked.”
“So you don’t want my arm ‘round you, eh?” His cheeky expression makes you hold back a grin, looking away for a moment before rolling your eyes and moving under him. 
You feel his deep chest-chuckles and roll your eyes.
“You’re doing the laundry.”
“It’s rainwater, Dear.” 
“I wasn’t asking, Dear.” 
You both watch the small object as it flows down the muddy stream; white paper going gray with water as it soaks up into the microscopic fibers. For a moment it amused you to think about John and yourself on that boat. Two tiny forms like ants surrounded by a sea of roaring water, raindrops enough to capsize with only one another to help tread water. In many ways, it was hard not to imagine it. 
Your upturned lips part. 
“John?” you ask.
“Hm?” A nose digs into your scalp, fingers tightening over your hidden flesh as the flowers flinch from the downpour and nitrogen sticks to your nose hairs. He breathes you in and watches the Origami boat fall onto its side—swept away with little more than a whisper.
“We’re going to be okay.” It’s not a question. 
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northern-passage · 6 months
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No Pride with Genocide!
You have probably seen the grotesque images of jubilant Israeli soldiers holding the pride flag on top of our scorched Gazan lands infiltrating social media feeds last week. The Israel State cynically publishes on its Twitter account, “The first ever pride flag raised in Gaza,” as it proceeds with its genocidal crusade and its concomitant Zionist propaganda campaign. We view these images with immense feelings of frustration and uttermost disgust, and we see through their despicable tactics of weaponizing homophobia and queer violence for colonial means. The following are notes from Queers in Palestine, elaborating on what such imagery tries to accomplish and what underpins their production:
1. Zionist Colonization is Anti-Civilization 
Colonial and Imperial powers have long used their fabricated lies of “civilization,” “rights,” and “democracy” to justify their plunder, military rule, and capitalist accumulation. We learn this from global histories of European colonization across Abya Yala, Asia, Africa, Turtle Island, Aotearoa, and Australia. The Zionist colonization of Palestine is no different. Oftentimes, the pretext of all of these bloodied invasions is that the “civilized” world is invading racialized communities to bring culture, education, and liberalism and instill it in societies it deems barbaric, immoral, and uncivilized. The images of the LGBT flag supposedly claim to bring rights and liberties to Gaza, but unironically, the soldier stands on top of the debris of hopes, dreams, and human remains of Palestinians he himself and the army he serves bombed moments before. The flag merely stands to reaffirm the simulacrum of colonization, death, white supremacy, and destruction. 
2. Israel Erases Palestinian Queerness
The images of the Israel Pride Flag and the other with the text, “In the name of love” send a clear message: Israel will not allow queer liberation unless it’s through its settler-colonial genocidal project. To that, we say No! We queer Palestinians have a vibrant, diverse liberation movement that is part of the Palestinian anti-colonial movement. For decades, we have been tirelessly working on carving up and maintaining a space for Palestinian queer life amongst our communities and not despite them. We are everywhere: in schools, streets, prisons, hospitals, and at the forefront of every confrontation in every corner of Palestine, from the river to the sea. What we are working towards is a Palestine liberated from colonialism, patriarchy, and capitalist exploitation.
3. Queer Opacity in Times of Hypervisibility
In a time when Palestinians are being prosecuted without trial, student movements shut-down and students in universities suspended and detained, and solidarity with Palestine and Palestinians at large are attacked and criminalized, visibility has proven itself to be a frontline of resistance against the erasure of Palestinians worldwide. In Palestine, Israel’s surveillance apparatuses hunt any expression for Palestine’s right to exist as grounds to attack, incarcerate, and murder Palestinian life. This over-fixation on the supposed lack of Palestinian queer visibility steers the attention from Israel’s campaign against all Palestinians – workers, activists, students, feminists, queers, and otherwise. Israel and its allies dangerously decontextualize the violence queers suffer from its historical colonial roots, and dissociate it from the impacts of current settler-colonial violence. This is an attempt to portray Palestinian society as unsafe for queers to legitimize the annihilation of our people, and in turn our annihilation as queers. Under Israel’s surveillance & police state, visibility, opacity and invisibility are survival and resistance tactics we use interchangeably, and aren’t always a matter of choice. None of us is safe under settler-colonization.
4. These Images Endanger Queer People Worldwide
The Pride Flag has long been hijacked and homonationalised. It represents a narrow and limited understanding of gender and sexuality and excludes the myriad of sexualities in the colonized world. This homonationalism renders colonized sexual and gender attitudes illegible to the liberal gaze and forces us to speak a language that compromises our experiences. Under nationalist and colonial regimes, our bodies and sexualities will always be regulated. What the pride flag has come now to represent is a commercial, imperialist, and white supremacist sexual ideologies, and this, in turn, puts us queer people in danger. This homonationalist project hinders our fight against anti-queer violence within our communities because our identities and sexualities are constantly being hijacked by the empires and colonies that brought destruction upon us. We need to reject such associations that only strengthen queerphobia in colonized societies, especially during this time in Arab and Muslim communities, when the soldiers and armies that are destroying our homes and killing our parents, siblings, friends, and children are doing so in the name of LGBT rights. 
5. Colonialism & Empire are Anti-Queerness
In the past, colonial projects sought to eliminate any sex-gender organization systems that fell outside of the European binary patriarchal model of man-woman. We learn this from the British criminalization of the Hijra in South Asia, or British and French social organizing efforts to enforce a binary sex-gender system in Yoruba Land, or Portuguese and Spanish efforts to eliminate “two-spirit” indigenous North Americans – deeming all uncivilized in need of external civilization. This was also the case in Palestine under British-Zionist military occupation, as same-sex relations and other diverse gender practices became criminalized and demonized. All the current laws in Gaza that criminalize queerness are, in fact, British and are upheld by Zionism. However, it becomes evermore absurd that rhetorics of bringing queer liberation to Palestine have been now hijacked by Zionists and, for the most brutal reasons, in service of annihilation of Palestinian life and mass destruction. We, Palestinian queers, position our movement for liberation alongside anti-colonial and anti-racist movements globally, and we stand firmly in objection to any attempt to hijack our movements, or exploit our bodies.
In the name of revolutionary love, a love which fuels our struggle for liberation and yearning for freedom, rooted in our love for our communities and our land; we tell you, there is no pride with genocide, and there is no pride in settler-colonialism.
Our pride can only come through true liberation for all, for us and for all the peoples fighting worldwide.
A Liberatory Demand from Queers in Palestine | Pinkwashing - Decolonize Palestine
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doctorbeth · 2 years
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A giant turtle
The other super sized patient I wanted to share with you from the recent large visitors to the hospital was a turtle. As some of you may know, either from older posts or close observation of some of the photos, I have two water turtles. They're both female, both 25 years old, and they still lay eggs. :-) Anyway, so I have a soft spot for turtles, and there's even a collection of stuffed animal turtles on top of my turtles' tank. But none of those turtles match the size of the visitor to the hospital earlier this month!
Turtle actually had a pretty cool story. Here is what her person first wrote:
Hello To Whom It May Concern,
I am looking to get a childhood stuffed animal healed, I was pushed to donate it years ago when my family moved and by a twist of fate, recently ended up working at the institution it was donated to. It's been a few years since the donation and in that time, kids have done a number on it. I have since gotten it back this past week after the people I donated it to no longer had need of it and would like to see it fixed up. It is an about three foot long and foot wide green sea turtle that needs to be cleaned up, have stuffing fixed up and replaced, and have new eyes put it.
Well, the first step, as always, was for me to see the turtle, and photos work well. Unfortunately, she was still in plastic to protect her (and her new home) from anything she might have caught in her years away, so there was an older photo of her, and then her bagged. :-\
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It was enough to see her issues (lack of stuffing, blindness) and approximate size. We agreed a spa and new eyes would be the best treatment, and any small wounds not visible in the photos would get sewn up as well.
Fortunately, her person was only about an hour away, so he could bring her in person (for contactless drop off) because given her size, travel could have far exceeded treatment cost!
She started with unstuffing and a spa. No spa photos because when patients are that big, their spa photos just look like a pile of fabric, especially if there are no eyes as in Turtle's case.
Once dry and partially restuffed, it was time to choose a style for her new eyes. Here were the three options:
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Her person chose the last... a plastic eye with felt backing and lid. So her vision was restored and restuffing continued (it takes a LOT of stuffing for a patient her size). Here's her heart with original stuffing going in:
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And here are the first photos to judge chubbiness (so she had open seams so I could adjust):
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Her person said she should be strong/dense enough to hold the weight of an adult human, so I added more stuffing, closed her up, and she was ready to go home. While she waited for her human to come get her, she made friends with one of my turtles:
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You can really see how big she is here! My turtle is about 10" long.
Turtle went home and is now happily ensconced back with her original family and friends:
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Her person wrote "She’s better than I ever could have hoped!"
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girlactionfigure · 12 days
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⚪  Wed morning - ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime
📌 WE WANT OUR CHILDREN TO BE HUMAN SHIELDS.. IDF: “We need you to evacuate. You don’t have much time left.”   GAZAN: ’Strike us, do whatever you want. Our children must also die so we can expose your brutality.  Do whatever you want, everyone wants to die from our side.  We love death the way you love life.’  https://twitter.com/TheMossadIL/status/1787530064801759279
♦️IDF ATTACKS LAUNCHERS.. IDF forces attacked in the Rafah region the launcher from which the shooting was carried out, Hamas continues firing into Kerem Shalom, damaging aid delivery capability. (IDF Spox)
🔘WHITE HOUSE DEMANDS:  (( throw your dead soldiers bodies out of the way, instantly repair the damage, and )) “open the crossings and deliver fuel into the Strip (today).”  "Closing the Rafah and Kerem Shalom crossings by Israel is unacceptable."  The Coordinator of Government Activities in the Territories (COGAT) announced that the Kerem Shalom Crossing is reopening today (( the bodies were shoveled out of the way )) for bringing humanitarian aid into the Gaza Strip.
♦️OTEF AZA FARMERS TOLD TO NOT ENTER FIELDS.. An unusual instruction this morning for farmers in Otef: not to go to work in the agricultural areas adjacent to the border fence in the Gaza Strip.  In the background: widespread IDF activity also in the north of Gaza and explosions heard in the area.
♦️ACTIVE FIGHTING.. in eastern Rafah. (Per Arab reports)
⭕ HEZBOLLAH ROCKET BARRAGE at Kiryat Shmona and surrounds overnight.
❗️ANOTHER HOSTAGE DETERMINED MURDERED.. Lior Rudaif was murdered on 7/10 and that his body was kidnapped to Gaza by Hamas terrorists.  That’s 39 known murdered among the 132 remaining hostages.
❗️ANALYSIS - HEZBOLLAH SOON.. (The Arab Desk) The expansion of the operation in Rafah will force Hezbollah to respond.  If Hezbollah enters the campaign fully, Syria will not sit idly by.
🔸DEAL ACTIVITY.. US: Kirby,  "Optimistic about the ability of both sides to bridge the gaps between Hamas and Israel during the current round of talks in Egypt." (( Is he joking? ))
.. Hezbollah completely rejected all the proposals.  The message that Hezbollah sent was clear, there is no resolution 1701, there are no discussions before the definitive cessation of hostilities in the Gaza Strip.
.. The head of the CIA, William Burns, is expected to arrive in Israel today, and meet with Prime Minister Netanyahu and other officials.
▪️REMEMBER THE AID PIER?  The Pentagon: American forces will move the temporary port and sea bridge to Gaza when weather conditions improve. (I don’t know about the sea, but weather in Israel is perfect today, cool spring weather, winds at 2 mph due east off of Gaza.)
▪️NEWS OF THE WEIRD - EXCESSIVE TURTLES.. About 57 LARGE turtles (or maybe tortoises?) were found to be kept illegally in a private house in Rishon Lezion. The turtles were taken for examination and treatment at the Ramat Gan Safari Wildlife Hospital.
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spliffymae · 1 year
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COLD.
synopsis: oh, how foolish were you. to think a stranger emerging from the waters would be your one true love.
⚠️exhusband!sukuna, swearing, mentions of witchcraft, reader is like tia dalma from pirates of the caribbean, alternate universe but sukuna HAS a curse instead of being one, reader is scorned, toxicity, mentions of smut, this is a whole magical fictional world i’m making up so just keep that in mind
kio’s notes - i have been dyinggg to do a fic like this. i just finished ahs hotel and am literally full of inspo lmao. this is heavily influenced by hotel and pirates of the caribbean, as well as the vampire diaries!
now playing
⊱ ──────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.}──────── ⊰
there was something comical about the concept of irony, sukuna thought. to have a state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often amusing as a result. it was funny how it worked.
take you for example. you were a third generation bayou witch, born under calypso, the goddess of the sea. the sea. an enchanting pool of life. you lived for it, you would die for it. it gave you everything and more; power, warmth, beauty, guidance. it was a custom for those born under calypso to have a bond with the sea, but your bond was a bond no one had ever seen before.
the sea was naturally at no command but that of the mother, calypso. it was to be used as a partner for her descendants. but you, you were different. you and the sea were one in the same, similar to that of the goddess herself. the crabs would crawl from the water to your feet and the dolphins would jump out the water with joy at your presence.
you had a captivity over the sea that not even most of your village’s elders had seen. and it was fascinating. to watch you sit on the rocks at the bottom of a cliff, and play with the angry waters. the sea was mischievous, as were you. you two were friends, the best of friends.
until one day, when you met ryomen sukuna.
he was something you had never seen before. a man with fuchsia hair and markings along his body. his skin olive, only just kissed by the sun when comparing to you and your villages various shades of melanin. some were like him, but their features not so….thin.
“who might you be?” he had inquired about you the second he laid his eyes on you. vermillion orbs that shone like blood under moonlight.
“that question seems more appropriate for you to answer, seeing as how you emerged from the see and all.” you stood along the rocky shoreline, arms folded and eyes narrowed at the man.
the man appreciated your candor. he told you his name, ryomen sukuna, a lost and stranded seaman, separated from his crew and ship.
he quickly took to you, like baby sea turtles do to the water after they hatch. he followed you back to your village where you let him stay with you out of hospitality, of course.
he explained his ship had been merely passing through when they were hit by rough and choppy waters. he was too close to the edge of the ship and got thrown overboard, then pushed down by the waves. he couldn’t go anywhere else.
you let him stay for some nights. you fed him, clothed him, took him to explore your village and meet your people. he seemed rather excited to be with you, to see.
your people clung to him. elders marveled in his looks and build. the men had him work on putting up homes and collecting from the trees. he would go on to help them hunt.
yes, everyone you knew and loved loved sukuna.
well, almost everyone.
your first love, the sea, was not accepting of your new acquaintance. you had taken him to visit the waterfall that separated your village from the mainlands, expecting for him to be able to step in and feel the channeling current. but when he approached the end of the land, right where the sea would meet his foot, there was a crashing wave that rolled down the waterfall. it took you by surprise. the waterfall was the calmest part but when sukuna ever entered it’s proximity, it became violent.
“i don’t understand,” you spoke to your eldest shaman, lucille, one night standing on the shore and looking out at the salt watered bed of sea that was your best friend. “did i upset the goddess, uncle? is she vex with me?” you turn to him curious, confused, and begging for clarity.
the older man pursed his wrinkly lips and shrugged, gold plated earrings dangling as he did so, “the sea is an inconsistent lover, (y/n). no mortal holds the answers to her ways. but with time she reveals the truth, the answers.”
the sea was pulling away from you, and simultaneously pushing you towards sukuna. he quickly became to you what the sea once was; comfort, safety, a friend. the more time you spent with sukuna, the less you were at the shoreline. the less time you spent sitting on the rocks and casting enchantments over them as the waves crashed into them. the less you spent practicing your magic rituals. sukuna became your other half, slowly untying your bond to the sea.
sukuna found out about your witch bloodline when you two started dating. you had healed him from a gatherrer incident with a family healing spell. he remembered there being a cut along his torso, but you smudged a paste into it and mumbled something he couldn’t understand. next thing he knew, he was healed.
his stay in the village had gone from one night to three, three nights to two weeks, weeks to a month, and in time, sukuna became an addition to your village. to your life.
when he proposed, he used your great grandmothers gold ring, one which she enchanted to bring everlasting happiness to all beating hearts who wore it and formed marital unions through it.
when you married, the day was gloomy, the waters were angry, but you were blinded by love and so were given away by your family to sukuna, your new husband.
sukuna soon became interested in your family’s history. he would read their grimoires and ask you questions, help you with spells and even come with you to the annual celebrations of the ancestors .
you loved him with all your heart, for he was yours. but the more days progressed within your marriage, the more an emptiness filled you. you became cold, more so than usual. you were feeling ill, and hadn’t been practicing your magic as often or as effectively as you once were.
the sickness seemed to progress. and as it grew, so did an unhappiness in your life. your days were not a rich blue of skies and water anymore. they were grey clouds casted over such somber tides. it was depressing.
“kuna, my love, i feel rather…weak.” you expressed to your husband one day, stumbling into the kitchen to find him sipping a cup of ale and reading your mothers book of spells, something he did every evening after coming home from work.
he looked up at you with concern, “my dear, you look awful.” he was referring to the absence of glow on your skin. your eyes weighed down by dark circles, whites of them red from fatigue. your hands were ice cold and shaking.
“my body feels as if the roughest of bark is under my skin. i am so thirsty and cold.” you grabbed the jug of ale before and brought it to your lips, chugging the liquid down. you needed to quench the thirst. unbeknownst to you, though, sukuna watched in amusement.
your illness only grew and the people of your village became concerned. day in and out after all, you were the descendant of the goddess, you were blessed with outlasting health, like the waves. the villagers would come to your door, bearing gifts of meals, remedies, potions and offerings to the ancestors on your behalf. but nothing seemed to work.
sukuna stood right by your side, tending to you like a doting husband. he bathed you when you were too weak to stand, cooked and fed you when yo couldn’t feed yourself. he would warm you up by the fireplace, wrapping his arms around your shivering frame. he was your rock.
or so you thought.
what sukuna was actually doing was marveling at the irony before him. a woman born of the ocean. born by and with the power of the sea. you were born to connect with nature, to be a link between the goddess and her people. but oh, how that would never truly happen.
“i didn’t mean to! sh-she was hurt and i was trying to help but she just smelt so good a-and, oh my gosh!” you were pacing back and forth in your home, tears spilling out your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.
the lower half of your face was covered in blood but not your own! from one of the villagers, rella, who had come to you for a healing spell. she had cut her palm while fishing, a simple gash she knew your paste could fix.
you had done it a hundred times before, but this time it was different. there was a sweet aroma she had. one that made your mouth water and jaw hurt. it was emitting from her palm.
you remember the last thing you did was stare at her palm with a hungry gaze, the dark crimson of her blood practically calling out to you.
when you came to, she was dead before you, neck slashed open and body lifeless. and you, your face and hands were covered in her blood.
“i was wonderin’ when my lil wedding gift would arrive for you, my love.” sukuna smiled, sitting on the couch and watching your panicked expression.
“kuna. i-i don’t understand.” you felt sick, but at the same time you never felt more alive. your body felt like it had just been shocked back awake. your senses were tingling and heart beating faster than you’ve ever felt before. you were practically vibrating.
“well, i guess i might as well take the cat out the bag now, huh? i turned you.” he said nonchalantly, easing back onto the couch.
you furrowed your brows, “you…turned…me?”
sukuna nodded, “a part of marriage is ‘for better or for worse’, right? and i thought ‘it’s time for my wife to get my worse’. so i turned you.” he shrugged.
you started to get irritated, “ryomen fucking explain! what the hell do you mean turned me?!”
“don’t act like you don’t know, dear. i’ve read all your family’s grimoires, listened to all the elders, i know you know about the curse. the sickness that grants you immortality but an insatiable appetite. the one that—and this is quoting uncle, ‘the devil bestowed to only the darkest of demons’.”
your eyes widened in shock. “y-you were…you turned me into….” you couldn’t finish your sentence. not when you were struggling to speak over the heart that was breaking within your chest.
“think of it as my parting gift, dear. you and me are now tied to and for eternity. it’s a blessing, you’ll see.” he got up from the couch with a cocky and smug smile. he passed you to go upstairs and gave your frozen face a kiss on the cheek. “think i overstayed my welcome here. m’gonna head out tomorrow morning.” he mumbled against your skin.
when he left, and you heard the click of the bedroom door, you ran outside. you made a beeline to the elders region of the village, to the temple where the ancestors’ idols were.
it was late at night, but you needed answers. you needed help.
when you showed up, lucille was praying under calypso. “lucille!” your cry opened his eyes and he grimaced at the horrific sight of you.
“child, what has happened?” he was shocked. the aura he felt off you was not your usual one of warmth and love. he felt nothing. he couldn’t see your warmth anymore. and worse of all, he couldn’t feel the goddess through you.
you were a sobbing mess, you looked terrifying, and you felt as cold as the sea during winter. “something horrible, lucille. sukuna he, he turned me and i don’t know how to change it. help me! ask the goddess, please!” you had fallen to your knees before him to beg.
lucille felt his breath hitch into his throat, “your husband? he was a cursed creature?”
“i didn’t know. lucille please i swear to you i didn’t know i was just trying to heal rella and—she just smelled so good i...” you shook your head and sobbed out. the level of betrayal was far to great to put in simplistic terms. you were disgusted with yourself, with your actions.
lucille wanted to help you, he did. but he had no time as a commotion was heard from afar. “find her! it is her head on a stick i want. that bloody creature killed my girl!” you could hear the cries of rella’s father amongst the uproar.
you turned back to lucille, who looked down at you with a stone cold expression. “lucille,” you plead, holding your hands out for him, “help me please.”
heartbreaking. that’s the best way you could put what happened next. lucille looked down on you with disgust darkening in his eyes and a snarl, “the problem is (y/n), i can’t. you are a beast, now. a god awful creature of the earth. you will live in misery, in isolation from life and love. your bloodlust will consume you, and you will know only the horrific cries of your victims for the rest of eternity. you’re not mortal, anymore. there’s nothing i can do but tell you to run. run and pray you find a quick death.”
there was silence after that. you were too stunned to speak. lucille was an elder who was like your grandfather. he saw a vision of you prior to your conception and told you mother of the great force she would give birth to, the change her child would make on the village. but if only he knew the type of change you would bring.
you sobbed out, “please don’t do this, lucille. please! i need you, i need the goddess!” you gripped onto his robe, but he didn’t budge.
“she’s here!” he yelled for the mob as his eyes remained on you. you could see the hurt that clouded them, but it was brief as he blinked it away.
you stood up and without a second thought, ran for the waters. the temple was yards from the waterfall, so you had to run as quick as possible. if you could jump off, you could swim to the mainlands. or get pierced by a sharp rock. either way, you knew you’d be free.
“there! grab her!”
“she’s headed for the mainlands! we’ll lose her if she passes!”
“stop! answer for your crimes!”
“kill her! i want her to burn!”
the threatening screams of your people, the animosity that radiated off them. you were running through the forest with tears blurring your vision.
you were all alone. you were defenseless. not an ally amongst them. they had all changed their minds about you. you were no longer the goddess’ proxy. you were no longer the villages healer. you were no longer the third generation bayou witch, who would lead her village to eternal success.
no. you were a creature bound to live as long as earth spun on its axis. you were cursed with a hunger that could not be sedated. you craved the blood that ran through the bodies of those you once loved most. you were powerless, you were disconnected from nature.
but worse of all, you were forever cold. and it was all thanks to ryomen sukuna, your ex-husband.
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faller-fears · 6 months
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Introduction
((OOC Information Under The Cut))
Hello,
I am Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. I, along with my partner Martin, fell into the world of Pokemon in March. We have been staying with Hop, Professor Sonia's apprentice, since then. Martin has been learning to care for Pokemon by helping Hop's mother, and I have taken a position as Professor Sonia's assistant.
When we are not busy with work, we engage in another kind of work. We take people's Statements. "Statements of what," you may ask. Statements of supernatural, or otherwise esoteric, experiences in their lives. I must make it clear that not every statement is true. However, the Statements which are true are very important indeed. It is our duty to search them out and document them.
If you have experienced a frightening occurrence having to do with the following themes, I encourage you to submit a Statement.
-Scopophobia, agoraphobia, the fear of being watched, the fear of your secrets being known, the fear of having to keep secrets, the fear that you will never find answers
-The fear of being manipulated, the fear of having no control in your life, the fear of being controlled by your addictions, the fear of controlling others
-The fear of being eaten, the fear that you are only meat and nothing more, the fear that you are not good enough, the fear that you are useless, feeling as though you must keep changing yourself in order to become perfect
-The fear of being hunted, the feeling that you must give chase, that you must pursue and kill something or someone
-The fear of senseless violence, of being murdered, tortured, or abused
-The fear of space, the sea, the sky, or heights. The fear that you are just one person in a sea of billions, that you are so infinitely small that you can't possibly matter
-The fear that you are alone, that you will die alone, that no one will understand you, isolation
-The fear of losing things that you care about, the fear of being burned alive, the fear of fire, the fear of losing out
-The fear of being buried alive, claustrophobia, the fear of drowning
-The fear of being loved, the fear of toxic love, abusive love, and the like. The fear of insects, trypophobia, fear of decay and fungus.
-The fear of the dark, of what lurks in the dark, the fear what is hidden
-The fear of the unknown and unfamiliar, the fear of strangers, agoraphobia, the fear of the uncanny, the fear of dolls, puppets, and machines, the fear of things that aren't quite right
-The fear of the end, the fear of things coming to an end, the fear of death, the fear of hospitals, cemeteries, and places associated with death, the fear of the undead
-The fear of insanity, the fear of the insane, the fear that you can't trust your own mind, the fear of lies and deception, the fear of being gaslit, the fear of going around and around and never getting anywhere
-The fear of extinction, the fear of nuclear fallout, the fear of pollution, of global warming, of any of the ways humanity might be bringing the world to an end, the fear that we will end ourselves slowly by destroying the world.
These are not rigid categories. As you may have noticed, many fears can be applied to several of these descriptions. If you have experienced a supernatural or otherwise unexplainable event that falls under one or more of these groups, please submit a Statement.
Hey there! I'm Turtle. I'm a 24 year old woman who loves The Magnus Archives and Pokemon. This blog is based on a fanfiction that I'm writing. You can read it here.
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orowyrm · 3 months
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turtle stranding season is technically over but i need the rest of the holdovers in our rehab program to hurry up and get healthy enough to be released because being in the medical center while the entire vet team is working on a sea turtle surgery is always so stressful . feels like i’m a background extra in a hospital soap opera
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honey-minded-hivemind · 2 months
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Wings of Fire Dragon Guide, Part Two: SkyWings and SeaWings
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This is a SkyWing, or sky dragon. They have red, orange, orange-gold, or red-gold scales. They can breathe fire, have the largest and fastest wings, and if born from a twin egg, one twin will have too much fire, to the point of having burning hot and fiery scales that burn those who touch them (except blood-red egg-born MudWings) and a twin with too little fire, who can only produce smoke and is paler than most SkyWings. SkyWings live in the mountains of the Sky Kingdom, and have prey such as goats, hawks, and sheep. They have also grown crops. They have had a lot of scary, bloodthirsty queens, who had an area built where gladiators and prisoners wouod fight, sometimes (most of the time) to the death. It was used once as a gallery for art, and later as a hospital for wounded veterans. They can have names such as:
Birds of prey: Hawk, Eagle, Kestrel...
Red/orange birds: Cardinal, Thrush...
Colors: Vermillion, Scarlet, Carmine...
Red/Orange/Gold gems: Ruby, Garnet, Jasper, Tourmaline...
Rocks and Mountain Phenomena: Cliff, Avalanche...
Flying: Soar, Tailwind
Fire: Flame, Firestorm...
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This a SeaWing, or sea dragon. They have blue, blue-green, teal, gray-blue, gray-green, or even indigo scales. They have their own underwater language called Aquatic, where they use the lihht-up scales on their body to talk, using different flashes and scale combinations to speak with each other. They have gills and lungs, are able to live underwater and on land, and their royal family has animus magic (animus are dragons who are born with magic that can do almost anything, except bring back the dead). They also have large tails, which are powerful. Their prey includes sharks, octopi, squid, crabs, lobsters, tuna, salmon, and any other marine life (except dolphins). They live in the Sea Kingdom, which is the Bay of a Thousand Scales (a lot of islands) and the ocean. They had two palaces, one underwater, and one on a hidden island. They can have names such as:
Sea animals: Turtle, Barracuda, Snail, Auklet, Orca...
Sea Plants: Kelp, Anemone, Coral...
Ocean Phenomenon: Current, Riptide, Whirlpool
Ocean Weather: Tempest, Tsunami
Colors: Indigo, Cerulean...
Bodies/Forms of Water: Lagoon, Droplet...
Blue/Green/Ocean gems: Sapphire, Pearl...
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littlebunnywitch · 3 months
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My Billy Hargrove Art - 2/28/24
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Starting off I wanted to just figure how how i would draw Billy. Like with Cal I'm not super use to drawing fanart of live action characters. If you didn't read this Billy post I made I HC Billy nonbinary using He/Him but Fem leaning and uses Female titles with people he trust.
This is canon divergent so Billy survived the mind flyer (and now lives with Joyce) but I since it is post season 3 - he tends to wear alot more clothes now - its rare for most people to see him without his arms, and chest full covered due to the sever scaring he has from his time being possessed.
Billy will wear make-up; it started out before moving in with the Byers to hide bruises. But now he always wears beach colors nail polishes liking the way it looks, but he will wear blush and lip gloss (not lip stick cause he doesn't like the way it feels) in softer colors when he's feeling on the more fancy or mature fem side. His eyeshadow is always in some shade of blue if he puts eyeshadow on.
He’s a premaregressor and a Trauma & Vent Regressor of Baby to 5 year old with most his drops are involuntary. His biggest special interest regressed or not is everything relating to the Ocean or Sea.
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As you can see in this picture first Billy doesn't have his dangle earring like he normally does - thats because whenever he drops who ever is around will either switch the dangle earring with the matching non dangle earring, or get someone Billy will trust to switch them. Joyce is really accepting of Billy's age regression but doesn't like the idea of anyone mentally or physically under the age of 10 wearing dangling earrings due to the risk of injury. So its a house rule.
Fun fact all of the stuffed animal Billy have here i own IRL. Since he has a hard time with being gifted things he's slowly collected these since moving in with Joyce from various people.
Stuffed animal Roll call~!!
Ariel, the jellyfish plushy by his hand, was the only one he had before moving in with the Byers from his mother. She is modified to have a rattle box in her body and years ago when she lost an eye Billy stole a stuffed animal eye from a craft store to replace it.
The sea bunny thats on his leg. Joyce gave it to him when he was in the government hospital - The sea bunny's name is Sea-yah.
The sea turtle was also given to him pretty early one by El - her name is Apple. Why? Cause shes green like a apple.
Aegir is a black tip reef shark that Billy got when the whole Byers-Hopper family (including him) went to the aquarium. Jim surprised him with Aegir because he refused to pick out anything from the gift shop not wanting to be a burden. (El told Jim which one Billy liked the most having read his mind). His name is Aegir because Billy knows the name of every sea or ocean themed god. And he thought the shark looked like an Aegir.
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i-got-da-rubes · 1 year
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Asdfghjkl i forgot but fr how many turtle related items do you have???
There’s actually a strange amount of turtle items I have from BEFORE my TMNT craze hit!
There’s the turtle sweater that I’m wearing rn! It’s from a summer camp I went to where I volunteered at a sea turtles hospital, and it is a very lovely light sky blue. It was an amazing experience and I ADORED the turtles, even if I couldn’t touch them.
There’s also this little lineup of goofballs.
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Pretty sure my parents have had this guy longer than I’ve been alive.
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And then after TMNT! There’s the turtle hamper I stole from my brother, Kirby the stuffie, and my turtle trellis for my plants.
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And my friend is bringing me this in august.
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So the short answer? Not enough. Trust me, Battiegutz has more.
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twotreeisland · 8 days
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THE PRIMARY SETTING
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Above are images of the Two Tree Island territory as it is in pre-history!
The TTI territory is flush with varied (but still pretty temperate) biomes, bordered by mountains to the north, the town of Quietbrook to the east, farms to the south, and the ocean to the west. Regardless of the fact it's a bit boxed in, the TTI area was originally home to a few wandering felis catus and becomes host to many more over the generations.
The Mountains
Defined primarily by their odd placement directly next to the sea, the Starscraper Mountains run along most of the western shore of the Felienz continent. Human scientists have noted this is a major reason the continent has remained unconquered by any larger human empires over the centuries, leaving the small, sparse native human settlements quietly flourish while the rest of the world wages war after war. The mountains are pocked with chasms and caves, the most prominent cave being one that leads to a pool of ancient water bubbling up from an even older aquifer deep within the earth in a wide cavern full of natural, shining crystals.
The Plains
The plains are the least observably populated biome, but the area is full of activity below the tall grasses. Stoats, rabbits, seagulls, and various other species make their home among the rolling acres of lush grass and occasional lone trees. The beach is negligible, as the elevation of most of the plains is about ten feet above sea level still. The Island itself used to be covered in the same prairie grasses as the plains, but with the settling of cats on the island the grasses have long since been tamped down or used for crafting.
The Swamp
Mucky and thick with dense, short foliage and the occasional willow tree, the swamp seems like the place least hospitable to damn near anything. However, plenty of frogs, turtles, and invertebrates make the place their home, along with a small species of crocodillian. Cats usually steer clear, as the murk clings to fur like nothing else, but traversal is somewhat necessary for a tasty toady treat.
The Sparse Forest
The Sparse Forest below the town's namesake Quiet Brook is diverse in its trees. Though primarily willow, the occasional pine and maple tree populate the biome closest to the human-made farm and town. A thick copse of willow trees surrounding a pretty clearing sits central in the sparse forest, occupied for a while by a small group of badgers.
The Dense Forest
Primarily old maple trees, the dense forest is radiant during the fall. It's darkly stunning any other time of the year, but the autumn is what shows it off the best. At the center of this forest is the oldest tree in a good 200 miles in any direction, the Grand Maple. Humans occasionally venture west away from their walled town to lay offerings to the fae in the tree's immense shadow.
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Two Tree Island
The eponymous island! Primarily flattened grass, ringed by a thick and well-tamed bramble bush, and populated by two massive, old trees. The Western Willow and the Eastern Maple stand tall and strong, representing the Spirits the cats of the islands honor in their day to day. As the cats settled on the island, they carved out dens under the roots and up high in the branches. The island will have its own post soon enough.
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raphael-angele · 6 months
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Teen Justice Headcanon of the Week
I'm currently on my way back home from the city for the holidays and I wanted to share something I've been headcanoning about Troy for a very long time
I have this ability to give a character with the angstiest and most tragic backstories. That is, if they weren't given a backstory already.
And we all know how Troy has a mysterious past that even THE Batwoman wasn't able to comprehend.
So, here's the tragic past of Donald Troy in my perspective (Please take note that this isn't canon and may make no sense)
For me, there's a reason why Troy is oblivious to certain things. I think there is a reason why he keeps his hair long, and I personally headcanon that he is afraid of needles, lightning, and the dark. I also headcanon that he used to be afraid of the water. And last but not least, I headcanon that he doesn't remember much about his past
Troy basically had an Eri backstory. Eri from My Hero Academia was a child who was used for her powers to take down the heroes or something like that.
Here's my take.
Troy is the child of a mad scientist who was obsessed with taking down Wonderous Man
WM found the lab and stopped the operation before it could get any worse when Troy was around 5 or 6, or at least that's what WDM had estimated his age would be. (I'm getting tired of writing WM so Imma just write Dane). When they first saw each other, Troy's first instinct was to attack since that's what he's been trained/modified to do. Of course, Dane easily restrained him which only scared Troy. Dane had comforted him and this is where he sees the serial number/code tattooed on his nape.
As it turns out, Troy doesn't have any birth records or any records at all. So, secretly, Dane took him back to Themyscira.
Now, onto the fears...
From an early age, he was genetically modified so that he'd be stronger than Dane. This is where his fear of needles comes from; he doesn't like the feeling, nor the sight of them since they remind him of what the scientists did. So taking him to the hospital has been very difficult because of this.
His fear of the dark comes from always being in a locked room with no one to accompany him and the only time they'd come get him is when it's time for another unethical experiment. He hates night time or at least used to. The only reason he's not entirely scared at night is because he can see the stars and the moon. But if you were to put him in a dark room with no way for light to get in, he'll feel like he can't breathe and he'll go into a panic attack. It only makes it worse that there's limited space.
His fear of lightning comes from the electric sparks of machines that were used on him. It died down as time passed but it still kinda scares him.
He actually got over his fear of water. His fear came from being drowned in a tub to make him stay awake during the experiments and from being drowned simply for torture or punishment. He only got over it after being taken in and Dane slowly showed him that the water isn't so scary (Which also gave him the love for sea turtles).
Growing up, Troy never really liked having short hair. For one, he really looked up to Dane and wanted to look like him. Secondly, he didn't like the serial number on his nape showing. It was no doubt he got insecure everytime people saw it and he would always cover it like his life depended on it.
The one thing I don't know if it's a good thing or not is that he doesn't remember much about his past. Dane doesn't know if his mind chooses not to remember or simply because he was too young to remember any of it at all. But the thing is, Troy doesn't even remember being adopted.
I actually have an entire plot dedicated to this so I might make a part 2 of this.
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arcadekitten · 1 year
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I absolutely LOVE all the new characters in blackout hospital!! I'm curious as to what species they all are?
Oh gosh!! Okay!! Lemme see if I can answer em !!
A cut as I go through all the characters that appear in the character list below! (N/A means they don't have any particular animal/odd inspiration) Spoilers , of course!
Vasilis - Deer, but like, a very special kind...
Mary - Manta Ray
Dr. Tetra - Pufferfish
Rune - N/A
Gus - Sea Monster? But, actually, kinda more like a lake or pond monster...I think he's fresh water
Mallory - Scorpion
Hyllindrix - N/A
Nurse - N/A
Ollie - Sea Turtle
Mitzi - Pufferfish
Ioro - Shark
Drekaride - Imp
Minspella - Fairy. Or maybe I'd call her a pixie?
Emerald - Barreleye Fish
Griindel - Angler Fish
Lucky - Dog, but like, much more literal, and the most goodest boy around :)
Angel - Angelfish
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