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gumjrop · 4 months

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The Weather

In the US, 41 out of 54 states and territories are at high or very high COVID wastewater levels as of 1/18/2024. Ten states and territories have no data available. It’s important to note that levels of “moderate,” “low,” or “minimal” do not necessarily indicate a low risk of COVID exposure in our daily lives. Viral spread is still ongoing even if at lower levels, and precautions are warranted to protect ourselves and others.

Looking at the CDC’s national and regional wastewater data over time, we continue to see “Very High” levels nationally. It’s important to note that the last two weeks are provisional data, indicated by a gray shaded area on the graph, meaning that those values can change as additional wastewater sites report data.

Although wastewater data does not provide the same level of detail as previous PCR-based testing data, wastewater monitoring is an important ongoing resource to inform us about the current COVID situation. While the provisional data tentatively shows a downward trend this week, time will tell whether this is a true decrease in the final data. A downward trend does not mean continued decreases are guaranteed or that protections should be relaxed. Multilayered protections help drive COVID spread lower, and relaxing protections can lead to a resurgence of viral spread.

Visit the CDC’s State and Territory Trends page to see available wastewater testing near you, including the number of wastewater sites reporting. Write your elected officials to let them know you want to keep and expand wastewater testing in your area and nationally.

Wins

In November 2023, the CDC’s Healthcare Infection Control Practices Advisory Committee (HICPAC) passed a series of draft proposals that will further weaken already insufficient protocols employed within healthcare settings. HICPAC refuses to reckon with the airborne nature of infectious diseases such as SARS-CoV-2, and does not propose crucial measures such as universal masking with well-fitted respirators, isolation periods, and ventilation. The People’s CDC has penned a letter to the ACLU alerting them of HICPAC’s irresponsible decisions, and the ramifications associated with them. We hope that by working together with the ACLU, we can implement public advocacy and legal actions in order to tackle this critical issue.

You can read the full letter here.

Johns Hopkins reinstated healthcare masking on 1/12/2024, in response to high respiratory virus levels. As with many other healthcare systems and public health departments that have restored healthcare masking when facing public pressure, we hope that universal masking can become a standard of care rather than a short term response to a surge. See “Take Action” below for more information.

Variants

JN.1, now the most prominent variant in the United States, is estimated to account for 85.7% of circulating variants by 1/20/2024. HV.1 is expected to drop to 5.3%, and all other variants are estimated to make up less than 2% each. Although ongoing viral spread allows opportunities for new variants to emerge, the latest 2023-2024 COVID vaccine boosters, COVID tests, and COVID treatments are still expected to be effective for JN.1.

Current updated booster uptake is low (as of January 19, 2024, the CDC reports that only 21.5% of adults and 11% of children have received it). It is not too late to get the updated booster, and to protect yourself against the latest variant!

Hospitalizations

In the most recent week (ending January 13, 2024), we see a slight downward trend in new hospital admissions, currently at 32,861. We see a similar slight downtick in currently hospitalized patients with COVID , at 27,879. This most recent week shows a slight decrease in hospitalizations, although it is too soon to say whether hospitalizations for the current surge have passed their peak. Hospitals continue to be overwhelmed. The data also lacks information on hospital-acquired infections. We urge you to continue taking stringent precautions, such as donning a well-fitting respirator (e.g., N95, KN95) in all indoor spaces–and especially in healthcare settings.

Long COVID

Amid ongoing advocacy by Long COVID groups, the US Senate Committee on Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions (HELP) held a committee hearing on “Addressing Long COVID: Advancing Research and Improving Patient Care.” The hearing included testimony from three Long COVID patients and four Long COVID physicians and researchers, bringing much-needed attention to the urgent need for funding for Long COVID research and treatments, and to the need for improved access to care for Long COVID patients. We recognize the community care modeled by some of the panelists and attendees who wore masks for the hearing, and we wish the senators on the committee would mask up as well.

Take Action

Write your elected officials to let them know that Long COVID impacts all of us, and that we need ongoing support for Long COVID research and clinical care. Ask Senators to support bill S.2560, the Long COVID Support Act. Ask Representatives to support bills HR.1114 (Long COVID RECOVERY NOW Act) and HR.3258 (TREAT Long COVID Act).

Although some healthcare settings have reinstated masking in response to high COVID levels along with high respiratory virus activity, ongoing pressure is needed to restore, keep, and expand masking broadly. Use our letter template and toolkit to call or write your elected officials in support of healthcare masking.

Want to do more to support healthcare masking? Consider starting, sharing, or joining a local campaign. Check out work in Illinois, Maryland, and Wisconsin, just to name a few. Also, sign and share our letter to the ACLU asking them to join us in supporting safe and equitable access to healthcare. Sign on is open until 2/1/2024.

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pronoun-fucker · 2 years

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Like many people in Britain, you probably watched with horror the US supreme court’s reversal of Roe v Wade, thinking, “Thank goodness women could never be prosecuted for having an abortion here.”

But let me tell you, it already happens here.

Two women are currently awaiting criminal trial in England for abortion-related offences, both facing charges that carry a maximum sentence of life. At least 17 women have been investigated by police over the past eight years for having had abortions.

In Oxford, a 25-year-old mother of one is facing trial for allegedly taking the drug misoprostol – one of the two pills routinely prescribed by doctors to abort a pregnancy. But her baby was born alive and she was subsequently reported to the police. She is being charged under the Offences Against the Person Act, a law passed by parliament in 1861, before the invention of the lightbulb and before women had the right to vote. The law states that a woman must be “kept in penal servitude for life” if she procures an abortion.

Another woman is facing trial after she took abortion pills she obtained from the British Pregnancy Advisory Service (BPAS) by post when rules were relaxed during the pandemic to allow this. She was allegedly 28 weeks pregnant at the time and is facing charges of “child destruction” (note the visceral language) under the Infant Life (Preservation) Act from 1929, which also comes with a maximum life sentence. She could spend the rest of her life in prison.

We so often think that the 1967 Abortion Act legalised abortion. But it did no such thing. It partially decriminalised abortion in England, Scotland and Wales, so long as strict conditions were in place, such as a confirmation from two medical practitioners that the pregnancy had not exceeded 28 weeks (subsequently reduced to 24 weeks in 1990), or that the termination was necessary to prevent injury or mental harm. Any abortion outside these criteria is still a criminal offence.

We know that it is overwhelmingly vulnerable women who are investigated and prosecuted for having abortions. One woman collapsed in the dock when she was sentenced to two and a half years in 2015 for taking tablets she had bought online to induce a miscarriage after the 24-week period of gestation. The court heard that she had “a history of emotional and psychological problems”.

Another woman, a mother of one, ordered pills online to induce an abortion in 2019 after her abusive boyfriend had told her not to go to the doctor. She had believed she was eight to 10 weeks pregnant but after a traumatic miscarriage in her bath tub, where she has described sitting in an inch of blood, she realised her pregnancy had been much further along. She was arrested in her hospital bed and served two years in prison.

These are just some examples of women who have faced trial: there are multiple other women who face gruelling police investigations. In 2021, a 15-year-old girl was investigated for a year after suffering an unexplained stillbirth. Her phone and laptop were confiscated during her GCSE exams, she was self-harming, and the investigation only ended after a coroner concluded that the pregnancy ended due to natural causes. Another woman was arrested in hospital last year and kept in a prison cell for 36 hours after a stillbirth at 24 weeks, and is now suffering PTSD. My question is this: if a woman has had an abortion late in the gestation period, or a traumatic miscarriage or stillbirth, should she go to prison or should she be offered support from medical practitioners at what is clearly a horrendous time, both mentally and physically?

Women in 2022 are being shackled by a 160-year-old law made at a time when we were not even allowed to set foot in the House of Commons. Urgent reform is needed to protect more women from harm, which is why organisations such as BPAS and the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists (RCOG) are calling on the director of public prosecutions for England and Wales, Max Hill QC, to drop all charges against these women. The RCOG this month has gone further, calling on ministers to finally legalise abortion. There is absolutely no public interest in sending vulnerable women to prison for terminating pregnancies. Instead, these prosecutions will only serve to put off women seeking help from doctors because they might get arrested, pushing more women into unsafe and underground options.

Meanwhile, according to the criteria of the Abortion Act, a woman has to show that she would suffer grave permanent injury to her mental health if she did not have an abortion after 24 weeks. Why should women still have to pathologise themselves as mad, hysterical, unfit or suffering to legally access healthcare?

The state currently has a triple lock on women’s bodies. By not legalising abortion it has the right to force pregnancy, birth and motherhood upon us. Look to the rules on organ donation: it is illegal to donate people’s organs after they die (however desperately they are needed by people on waiting lists) without their permission. The law at present, which denies women the right to abort a pregnancy on their own terms, is to give us less autonomy than a corpse.

Link | Archived Link

#abortion #USA #uk #radfem #radical feminism #misogyny

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 2 years

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Thought I’d let you know that the op of the abortion post (pronoun-fucker) is a terf. When I looked at the recommended post it was suggesting a bunch of terf shit and when I check their blog yeah they’re a terf. You don’t have to answer this just thought I’d let you know cuz I reblogged the post without even realising.

Oh, gross. Alright then, let's see...

Cool, okay, so the post was literally just the text of the linked newspaper article, so allow me to recreate it here:

Link | Archived Link

And, just to be clear, while is a situation that is 100% rooted in punishing women for having sex and also primarily affects women, women are NOT the only people affected by it. Trans men and enbies also can get hit by these laws, and we shouldn't forget them.

#abortion #also fuck transphobes with a cactus‚ just so we're clear #feminism

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luthienebonyx · 7 months

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I've seen some misinformation spreading around tumblr about the Australian Voice referendum to be held this Saturday, 14 October 2023, so here are some actual facts about what it is and why Australians should PLEASE vote YES.

So, what is the referendum question?

The referendum question is about recognising Indigenous Australians in the Constitution, and setting up a body to be known as the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice, so that Indigenous representatives have the right to provide advice to government about decisions that affect Indigenous people.

Here’s the actual referendum question:

A Proposed Law: to alter the Constitution to recognise the First Peoples of Australia by establishing an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice. Do you approve this proposed alteration?

The new chapter and section to be added to the constitution are:

Chapter IX Recognition of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples

S 129 Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice

In recognition of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples as the First Peoples of Australia:

1. There shall be a body, to be called the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice;

2. The Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice may make representations to the Parliament and the Executive Government of the Commonwealth on matters relating to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples;

3. The Parliament shall, subject to this Constitution, have power to make laws with respect to matters relating to the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice, including its composition, functions, powers and procedures.

Source and more info

That’s it. That’s all it is.

The No campaign is spreading lies about the Voice, suggesting that it will somehow take rights or property away from non-Indigenous Australians. They’ve also been using social media - and some elements of mainstream media - to stir up fear and racism, using tactics with a vibe that will be all too familiar to our American friends who have lived through Trump, or our British friends who have been through Brexit.

Here are a few simple facts to counter some of the misinformation that's out there.

Why do we need a body like the Voice?

Indigenous people experience a level of disadvantage that applies to no other group of Australians. As the Prime Minister has said on numerous occasions, a young Indigenous man in this country today is more likely to go to jail than to go to university. Meanwhile, the periodic closing the gap reports show that Australian governments continue to fail in their aim for Indigenous Australians’ health and life expectancy to be equal to that of other Australians.

These sorts of outcomes are typical of a system that has always been about doing things to Indigenous people, rather than with them. Indigenous people need to be in the room when decisions are made about matters that affect them.

So yeah, we need an advisory body that has the ear of politicians. Seems simple enough, so why not just legislate it?

That’s the thing: we’ve already tried that.

We need an advisory body like the Voice to be enshrined in the Constitution because we’ve HAD advisory bodies before – bodies like the former Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission (ATSIC). ATSIC was abolished in 2005 by a government that was hostile to ATSIC’s aims – something that government could easily do since there was no obligation for a body like that to exist. Other similar bodies have gone the same way.

Putting the Voice in the constitution means that it will always exist. The actual decision-making power continues to reside with our elected politicians, but having the Voice means that they will be obligated to listen to the perspective and suggestions of Indigenous representatives before they (the politicians) make decisions affecting Indigenous people.

The politicians will still have the power to legislate the details of how the Voice works, just like any other body set up under legislation - but once it's in the constitution, they don't get to decide whether it exists or not.

Where did the idea for the Voice come from?

Indigenous people have been calling for something like the Voice since the 1920s, but the current proposition originated in the Uluru Statement from the Heart. This is a petition created by Indigenous delegates to the First Nations National Constitutional Convention held at Uluru in 2017. The Uluru statement from the heart is only 439 words, but they’re very powerful words. Read it here

So if you hear the No campaign trying to say that the idea for the Voice comes from Canberra or from politicians: no, it doesn’t. It comes from Uluru, in central Australia, and it comes from a request by representatives of a large number of Indigenous people. The government is responding to that request by holding this referendum.

Do all Indigenous Australians support the Voice?

Have you ever known any group of people that share 100% support for anything? Of course there isn’t agreement by every single Indigenous person that this is the right way to proceed. HOWEVER, that said, polling shows that around 80% of Indigenous Australians support the Voice, and of the remaining approximately 20%, many don’t support the Voice because they believe it doesn’t go far enough. Some want a treaty before anything else.

But you wouldn’t know that by the way the Australian media has reported the campaign.

I’m not going to repeat that No campaign slogan. If you’ve watched or read any reporting about this issue, you know the one I mean. The one that panders to ignorance and fear.

Instead, I’m just going to say: if you don’t know, FIND OUT. And then VOTE YES.

#auspol #the voice #aboriginal and torres strait islander voice #Australians PLEASE VOTE YES

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 19 days

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

April 21, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

APR 22, 2024

During her confirmation hearings in 2021, Interior Department secretary Deb Haaland promised “to responsibly manage our natural resources to protect them for future generations—so that we can continue to work, live, hunt, fish, and pray among them.” Noting her Indigenous heritage, Haaland tweeted, “A voice like mine has never been a Cabinet secretary or at the head of the Department of Interior…. I’ll be fierce for all of us, our planet, and all of our protected land.”

Her approach was a shift from the practice the Interior Department had established at the beginning of the twentieth century when it began to prioritize mineral, oil, and gas development, as well as livestock grazing, on U.S. public lands. But the devastating effects of climate change have brought those old priorities into question.

Republicans, especially those from states like Wyoming, which collects more than a billion dollars a year in royalties and taxes from the oil, gas, and coal produced on federal lands in the state, opposed Haaland’s focus on responsible management of natural resources for the future and warned that the Biden administration is “taking a sledgehammer to Western states’ economies.”

On Thursday, April 18, the Interior Department finalized a new rule for a balanced management of America’s public lands. Put together after a public hearing period that saw more than 200,000 comments from states, individuals, Tribal and local governments, industry groups, and advocacy organizations, the new rule prioritizes the health of the lands and waters the Interior Department’s Bureau of Land Management oversees. Those consist of about 245 million acres, primarily in 12 western states.

The new rule calls for protection of the land, restoration of the places that have been harmed in the past, and a promise to make informed decisions about future use based on “science, data, and Indigenous knowledge.” It “recognizes conservation as an essential component of public lands management, on equal footing with other multiple uses of these lands.” The Bureau of Land Management will now auction off leases not only for drilling, but also for conservation and restoration.

Western state leaders oppose the Biden administration’s efforts to change the Interior Department’s past practices, calling them “colonial forces of national environmental groups who are pushing an agenda” onto states like Wyoming.

The timing of the Interior Department’s new rule can’t help but call attention to Earth Day, celebrated tomorrow, on April 22. Earth Day is no novel proposition. Americans celebrated it for the first time in 1970. Nor was it a partisan idea in that year: Republican president Richard M. Nixon established it as Americans recognized a crisis that transcended partisanship and came together to fix it.

The spark for the first Earth Day was the 1962 publication of marine biologist Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring, which showed the devastating effects of people on nature by documenting the effect of modern pesticides on the natural world. Her exposé of how the popular pesticide DDT was poisoning the food chain in American waters illuminated the dangerous overuse of chemicals and their effect on living organisms, and it caught readers’ attention. Carson’s book sold more than half a million copies in 24 countries.

Democratic president John F. Kennedy asked the President’s Science Advisory Committee to look into Carson’s argument, and the committee vindicated her. Before she died of breast cancer in 1964, Carson noted: "Man's attitude toward nature is today critically important simply because we have now acquired a fateful power to alter and destroy nature. But man is a part of nature, and his war against nature is inevitably a war against himself? [We are] challenged as mankind has never been challenged before to prove our maturity and our mastery, not of nature, but of ourselves."

As scientists organized the Environmental Defense Fund, Americans began to pay closer attention to human effects on the environment, especially after three crucial events. First, on December 24, 1968, astronaut William Anders took a color photograph of the Earth rising over the horizon of the moon from outer space during the Apollo 8 mission, powerfully illustrating the beauty and isolation of the globe on which we all live.

Then, over 10 days in January and February 1969, a massive oil spill off the coast of Santa Barbara, California, poured between 80,000 and 100,000 barrels of oil into the Pacific, fouling 35 miles of California beaches and killing seabirds, dolphins, sea lions, and elephant seals. Public outrage ran so high that President Nixon went to Santa Barbara in March to see the cleanup efforts, telling the American public that “the Santa Barbara incident has frankly touched the conscience of the American people.”

And then, in June 1969, the chemical contaminants that had been dumped into Cleveland’s Cuyahoga River caught fire. A dumping ground for local heavy industry, the river had actually burned more than ten times in the previous century, but with increased focus on environmental damage, this time the burning river garnered national attention.

In February 1970, President Nixon sent to Congress a special message “on environmental quality.” “[W]e…have too casually and too long abused our natural environment,” he wrote. “The time has come when we can wait no longer to repair the damage already done, and to establish new criteria to guide us in the future.”

“The tasks that need doing require money, resolve and ingenuity,” Nixon said, “and they are too big to be done by government alone. They call for fundamentally new philosophies of land, air and water use, for stricter regulation, for expanded government action, for greater citizen involvement, and for new programs to ensure that government, industry and individuals all are called on to do their share of the job and to pay their share of the cost.”

Meanwhile, Gaylord Nelson, a Democratic senator from Wisconsin, visited the Santa Barbara oil spill and hoped to turn the same sort of enthusiasm people were bringing to protests against the Vietnam War toward efforts to protect the environment. He announced a teach-in on college campuses, which soon grew into a wider movement across the country. Their “Earth Day,” held on April 22, 1970, brought more than 20 million Americans—10% of the total population of the country at the time—to call for the nation to address the damage caused by 150 years of unregulated industrial development. The movement included members of all political parties, rich Americans and their poorer neighbors, people who lived in the city and those in the country, labor leaders and their employers. It is still one of the largest protests in American history.

In July 1970, at the advice of a council convened to figure out how to consolidate government programs to combat pollution, Nixon proposed to Congress a new agency, the Environmental Protection Agency, which Congress created that December.

In honor of Earth Day 2024, Democratic president Joe Biden has called for carrying on the legacy of our predecessors “by building a greener, more sustainable planet and, with it, a healthier, more prosperous nation.”

In a statement, Biden noted that no one can any longer deny the impacts and staggering costs of climate change as the nation confronts historic floods, droughts, and hurricanes.

“Deforestation, nature loss, toxic chemicals, and plastic pollution also continue to threaten our air, lands, and waters, endangering our health, other species, and ecosystems,” he said. He noted the administration’s efforts to build a clean energy economy, providing well-paid union jobs as workers install solar panels, service wind turbines, cap old oil wells, manufacture electric vehicles, and so on, while also curbing air pollution from power plants and lead poisoning from old pipes, the burden of which historically has fallen on marginalized communities.

Biden noted that he brought the U.S. back into the Paris Climate Accord Trump pulled out of, is on track to conserve more lands and waters than any president before him, and has worked with the international community to slash methane emissions and restore lost forests.

And yet there is much more to be done, he said. He encouraged “all Americans to reflect on the need to protect our precious planet; to heed the call to combat our climate and biodiversity crises while growing the economy; and to keep working for a healthier, safer, more equitable future for all.”

Happy Earth Day 2024.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#Heather Cox Richardson #earth day #history #Letters From An American #Conservation #natural resources #Interior Department #Silent Spring #Rachel Carson

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random-introverted-blog · 4 months

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His Star - His Queen [Chapter 7 - Impromptu Rendezvous]

A King Deserves More

Summary: Astarion and you are finally (kinda) reunited (not fully). Tentative plans are discussed, a tournament commences and a wish is granted. Questions answered, (also kinda) and plenty more left to ponder (definitely).

You didn't think you were the only ones with plans, did you?

Link to the Tumblr Chapter Index

Warnings/Advisories: A fight scene, some uncomfortable witnessed kisses, a few mentions of blood. Creepy dialogue akin to Chapter 4.

A/N: We're getting close to a turning point in the story. Been sort of a lull period to establish what was set up in the first three chapters.

Thank you as always to everyone who supports this little adventure of mine! Hope the wait was worth it!

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

After a quick visit to the Precipice for the enchantment to be recast on him, Astarion once again found himself outside that damned palace, amidst the bustling stalls and festival nonsense.

They had been watching, but neither was sure how to reach you. You were effectively surrounded. With that steward spawn Malacai glued to your side, three servant girls in your shadow and four of those palace guards in polished silver armor gleamed in the rays of the midday sun. If there was an attempt at subtly, it was done poorly. But that didn't stop you from casually browsing the jeweler's stand as the stumpy human man made enthusiastic and broad gestures, beaming proudly as he went on about his wide and varied selection. Evidently eager to be the one to sell you your engagement ring.

Just as evident as the fact you weren't wearing one, despite the announcement yesterday.

It was one of the first things he noted to Aric beside him when they spotted you exiting the palace. Accompanied by your small horde, the Ascendant had walked at your side, hands clasped behind his back and carrying himself with his chin held high. Jester - a fitting name for a gnome, he might add, muttered something about drawing the Godking away before he melted into the sea of people. Just moments later, a messenger arrived and whispered in the Ascendant's ear. And then he visibly excused himself from your company. Not that you seemed to mind his abrupt need to depart. But Astarion could have done without witnessing the brief kiss he gave you before he departed.

"If we don't reach her now," Aric muttered to him urgently, "we'll lose our chance." "The tourney is in less than an hour." Subtly reminding Astarion that he insisted on participating.

As soon as he embarked on this ill-conceived plan, he immediately regretted it, muttering, "Bloody hells." But he was never one for planning, anyway.

"What are you—?" The tiefling asked, bewildered, as the elf departed his side and strode toward the guards and servants.

Predictably, his path was blocked by two guards, their crossed spears serving as a clear message "By order of his Majesty, none may approach the consort. "One of them said sternly from behind their full helmet, concealing their face. By curiosity or chance, you looked up from the ring in your palm. Your face instantly brightened with excitement, but then fell, dejected, just as quickly. Worry etched lines on your beautiful face, but you turned to that tall steward of yours. Speaking quickly and urgently, judging by the movement of your lips.

Despite the incredulous expression on your steward's face, you pressed on, your eyes silently begging for understanding. Reluctantly, and with a clenched jaw, the human waved his hand, causing your small horde to retreat. Leaving the path clear for Astarion.

It was so sudden to him then how much he's missed you. How desperately he ached with the ferocious need to draw you close, to wrap you in his embrace, where the world's shadows couldn't dare to touch the warmth of your skin. Shield you the same way you've shielded him so many times.

He could sense that it had also occurred to you. But you pressed your lips into a thin line and shook your head. "I don't need to give him more reason to..." you whisper, your words fading away. Your attention shifts, and you start absentmindedly turning the ring in your fingers, lost in thought. "How come no one else is reacting to you?"

As you ask, you visibly tense up, your muscles tightening as if you're holding yourself back. The urge to run to him was strong in you as well.

"That's quite a long story, my dear. For now, it's a unique spell, or enchantment. That protects me from my... quirks. And my identity from anyone besides you and him."

While skeptical, you seem satisfied enough to let it go. Freeing him to continue. "Listen, Tav," he spoke, mindful of his volume, his voice barely audible over the bustling festive chaos, "we're working as best we can to get you—"

As you hold up your free hand, you cautiously inquire, "Who's we?" You quickly glance from side to side, ensuring that your steward and servants are nowhere nearby to overhear.

"There's a resistance, darling," Astarion whispers. "I've spent the past tenday in their company. They've gotten me mostly up to speed on the state of things in this world." Astarion explains quietly, ensuring his words were only as loud as they need to be. Gathering his courage, he ventures to ask, "Are you...?"

He watches your body tighten into a coil of raw nerves, unease sneaking over you like an unwelcome shadow. "I'm okay, Star," you manage to say, even though your voice betrays a hint of your inner turmoil. "Just tell me what I can do to help. Anything, if it gets me out faster."

With a weighty pause, he inclines his head. "Do you think you could slip out of the palace again? Venture into the city, perhaps less guarded?"

You pause, your fingers fumbling with the ring, as you visibly ponder the request. The burden of the decision lingers in the air, adding a layer of tension. Visibly pondering the request, you furrow your brows, a small crease forming between them. "I... yes," you finally respond, the words escaping your mouth with a hint of bitterness. They hang in the air, heavy and charged. "I can convince him to let me leave, perhaps under the guise of... the wedding arrangements." The words carry a venomous undertone, as if each syllable is laced with resentment and disdain.

Your eyes dart around but focus nowhere in particular, avoiding his gaze momentarily before meeting his eyes, silently seeking understanding. The magnitude of the task is evident in your expression, a mix of determination and uncertainty. "But I can't give you a definite time or location," you continue, your voice tinged with a touch of frustration. "I have to think about it, spin some webs. Another tenday, maybe two, for when he might let me out of the palace. I can't guarantee how guarded I may be, though." As you speak, a faint scent of freshly cooked meats and incense wafts through the air, mingling with the tension. You take a deep breath, as you silently question if that is enough time or if it's too much time.

"How do I even reach you to let you know? Have you any idea how restricted I am in that gilded plane of Avernus? It's not like I can just toddle out and send a letter by pigeon." You gesture to him with the hand holding the ring and suddenly look away. Hiding your eyes behind your well tidied hair.

Every fiber of his being longs to envelop you in his arms, offering the reassurance you so desperately need, and he has to remind himself consciously of the audience around the two of you. "You helped me take back my freedom. I will not leave you alone fighting to regain yours, my love." He pauses and eyes the jewelry pinched between your fingers. A black band, exquisitely crafted, sparkled with a delicate arrangement of petite blue and silver gems.

Like a night sky painted with graceful strokes of twinkling stars, crafting an mesmerizing display resembling a beautiful dance across the dark expanse of midnight.

"You have a servant girl you apparently handpicked."

"Elowen." You finish for him, still not returning your gaze. "I saw her with you yesterday."

"She has a sending stone for you. You can use that to inform me how your plan is progressing, and when we can expect your... appointment." Astarion offers. By the hells, where is that wriggling worm when he really needed it? Dormant? Is that what Illyndra said? "I have to go. The tourney is about to begin. Suppose I'll see you there."

With a slow and deliberate movement, you raise your head to make eye contact with him once more. Hardened. But with more than just resolve. The instinct for self preservation was starting to take over. A little more than a tenday and you were already well on your way to building your bulwark against pain.

Your primal survival instincts were already well underway, it seems.

It seems like your primal survival instincts were already well underway. "No." you respond, your voice devoid of warmth, your eyes distant. "I have another lesson on sovereignty or whatever to endure, followed by a dress fitting, much as I wish I could shirk those things. But he will be there." Your gaze shifts upwards and away, as if searching for an escape. Despite your casual tone, the words carry a warning. His involvement will expose his presence in this world.

Now aware of the human steward's slow approach, his hands tucked behind his back. Astarion pressed his lips together, realizing that you had noticed before he did. "Lady Ancunín," he chided, "that is not the proper way to speak of your affianced publicly." As he drew near to your side.

A fleeting glimmer of a glare that passes through your eyes before you swiftly bury it away, refusing to meet your Star's eyes and witness his shock at your unexpected title. You take one last look at the ring between your fingertips before pushing it back onto the wooden counter of the stall. "It was good seeing you." Lacking emotion, you mutter over your shoulder, your voice sounding even more lifeless than the vampire spawn.

Then you turn away. The vibrant hues of your flowing dress create an enchanting whirlwind around you, captivating the eyes of those who witness your departure. Beside you, Malacai effortlessly matched your determined stride, the click of his boots echoing in sync with your deep brown shoes, and the guards and servants followed closely. However, amidst the commotion, only one person breaks away from your shadow, venturing into the bustling crowd. With a lingering gaze upon the ring you had set down, he moves on.

Curious, Astarion followed her carefully. Barely moving through the crowd when he found her again. He wasn't surprised when he found her speaking to the Ascendant. The exchange was short-lived, a mere moment, before he brushed her off with a nonchalant wave of his hand. She performed a graceful curtsy before him, and then hastily made her way, presumably in search of you. He turned back to a familiar tall Elven man. "Ballar." Aric said as he appeared beside him. "His righthand steward. Out of all his advisors, generals... Ballar is the one he seems to lean on the most." He explains calmly while Astarion recalls his first day in this world, in front of the palace doors.

On his way to the tourney ring, Astarion swiftly shares the key details of his conversation with you. Noting the balcony overlooking the patch of fenced in dirt from above. Positioned next to each other were two magnificent chairs with ornate designs. Empty for the time being, but a handful of servants diligently clean the tables, meticulously polish the armrests and golden goblets, and arrange a spread of refreshments.

"Jester lured Ancunín away by tipping off the Noctis to a resistance hideout, but now he has to hurry and evacuate it before they get there. He told me to make sure you won. Apparently he has an idea for that wish." Aric explains next, surprising Astarion the lengths the gnome went to provide him an opening to meet with you.

If these Noctis Veil are as... efficient as he's been led to believe, it was not a risk he would have taken lightly. An elite subterfuge and espionage force blended with vampire spawn? Creative... and terrifying.

Not long after, the tourney began. He had expected more competition than those he had faced in the ring already, but they hardly stood a challenge against him. It was almost comical. As their gazes met, Astarion braced himself for a more pronounced reaction from the Ascendant, but was met with a calm and collected demeanor. His doppelgänger didn't seem surprised in the slightest.

What did surprise them both was when you entered the balcony from the door behind the Ascendant. Right behind you, Malacai discreetly positioned himself against the back wall, behind the chairs. While waiting for his next round, Astarion observed the "sovereigns" and could tell that the Ascendant wasn't thrilled to see you there, although he didn't appear eager to send you away either.

Instead, he gestured to the seat beside him, and you took the offer. Though Astarion saw your lips moving, neither of your voices reached his ears. But you made a show of eyeing and playing with your left ring finger as you spoke, and your vampire managed a sad smile. Still doing your best to communicate to him what was unfolding around you.

But then the monster turned to lock his glare to Astarion's. Cueing you to look as well.

Much to his surprise, the Ascendant let you watch most of the event before clearly dismissing you. Again, with a soft touch and a gentle press of his lips against yours, he sealed the moment with a brief, yet lingering kiss, unable to resist the allure of your beautiful, addictive lips. You didn't look at Astarion as you rose and left, avoiding his gaze.

However, the Ascendant did. His eyes gleamed with wicked delight as he leisurely crossed his leg over his lap, revealing a glint of his fangs beneath his lopsided, smug grin.

Aric's surprise at Astarion making it to the final round was clear, as he made no effort to conceal it. Though the combatants thus far have proven easy.

Once he enters the pit, he assesses his final opponent. The sight that greeted him was a striking half orc man, his tall frame clad in resplendent gold and silver plate armor. A longsword stood firmly planted in the earth in front of him. On one knee, deep in prayer. A paladin.

Rising, he turns to the balcony, his eyes filled with determination as he brings a tight fist to his chest. "My Godking," he said with utmost reverence, "I swear my undying loyalty and devotion to you! May your reign beside our queen be long and prosperous!"

"You can take him deeper down your throat, surely." Astarion mutters under his breath with a roll of his eyes, drawing his twin daggers from his hip.

The game-warden, true to form, delivers her usual verbose introduction for the two fighters, emphasizing the high stakes of this decisive match. And with two deafening blasts of the horn that mark the start of the final match, the paladin fearlessly charges forward with a resounding roar that reverberates through the air and mingles with the dying echo of the tournament horn, his footsteps echoing like thunder.

Radiant energy crackles along the length of his blade. Astarion moves with grace and ease, smoothly sidestepping the initial strike, a small grin already forming on his lips.

The sound of steel meeting steel echoes through the festive courtyard as Astarion effortlessly parries the next series of broad swings, his movements appearing almost otherworldly in their fluidity.

With each display of the behemoth's strength, his confidence grows, knowing that all he has to do is bide his time, find the perfect moment, and make the behemoth kneel before him with a blade at his throat.

But the ferocity of his assault doesn't relent, testing your vampire's stamina. A heavy strike descends upon his head, and with a swift, skillful roll, Astarion narrowly avoids the blow. A sharp pain shot through his shoulder, confirming that the behemoth managed to graze him, marking the first sign of bloodshed.

Gods, what kind of idiot was he? Direct confrontation would never work. His opponent had brute strength and evident vitality on his side. But what he didn't have was speed and agility. He couldn't outmaneuver Astarion...

Filled with renewed determination, he deftly navigates around the hulking figure, launching rapid attacks whenever he spots a vulnerability in his armor. Aimed to soften his target, make him easier prey.

The paladin, feeling the taste of victory within his grasp, lifts his sword once more, unleashing a powerful cry as he gathers an overwhelming surge of radiant energy, preparing for a divine smite. With incredible reflexes and nimble footwork, Astarion skillfully evaded the attack, causing the half-orc to lose his footing and stumble ahead.

Astarion, quick as lightning, seizes the fleeting opportunity and launches a relentless assault on his opponent, the sound of his slashes and stabs filling the air as the paladin struggles to defend himself. Finally, one of Astarion's daggers finds a weak spot in the sturdy armor, piercing the skin and drawing blood. Despite his subdued appetite, the tempting aroma wafted through the air, teasing his senses.

Ignoring everything else, he stayed fixated on the momentarily stunned paladin, driving the pommel of his dagger directly into the half-orc's nose. He relished in the satisfying crunch and the resulting cry of pained astonishment. Employing a strategic technique, he disarms his adversary with the flat of his blades, following up with calculated strikes to immobilize the weakened areas.

Completely outmatched and devoid of weapons, it appears that even this arrogant brute accepts defeat as he humbly kneels before your rogue, surrendering without resistance. Silently acknowledging him as the victor.

The applause of the crowd faded into the background as he turned his attention toward the balcony. Astarion's eyes locked with the Ascendant's, who couldn't help but sport a sly grin as he arched one eyebrow in amusement.

He paid no mind to the game-warden once she let go of his arm, the one she had hoisted in the air, and he quickly made his way back to Aric. Only a little surprised to see the irritating gnome at his side. "Impressive for a foolhardy pretty boy."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Jester doubled down but shook his head. "Listen, we don't have long before you're summoned for your audience with Ancunín..."

‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐

With a nod from the well-dressed servant, the guards stepped back, allowing him to open the door. The Ascendant commanded attention as he stood in the middle of the room, his back facing the onlookers as workers toiled to remove a grand portrait from the wall. Meanwhile, the Ascendant maintained his poise, casually holding a goblet between his fingertips.

It looked like you... but also not. Somehow.

His gaze lingered on them, studying their actions, before he turned his head to look over his shoulder and acknowledge his new arrival. "Ah, my favorite cockroach." Muses the Ascendant with a wry smile. Returning his attention to the workers, he commanded, "Leave us."

Astarion observed the workers exchanging uncertain glances, their hands carefully clutching the weighty portrait. Looking on, he could discern the Ascendant's eyes rolling and catch the faint sound of an impatient growl resonating from his throat. In a hurried frenzy, they carelessly released their grip on the item, hitting the floor with a resounding thud. The impact was forceful and reverberated through the room, shattering the delicate frame and inflicting irreparable damage upon the once-pristine portrait. Yet, a strange indifference permeated the room, as not a soul in the room seemed to care about the damage.

Once only the two vampires were in the room, the Ascendant turned to face him. "Quite a performance you put on today. And you didn't even spend half of it on your back." He taunts, flavoring the malice with a smirk as he elegantly swirls his goblet. Astarion's senses tingled as the intoxicating scent of fresh blood wafted through the air, a scent as pure as the first falling snow. It possessed a certain sweetness, a tantalizing whisper that hinted at its source - young, untouched... Virgin blood? The thought alone sent a shiver of excitement down his spine.

It was an obvious attempt to bait him. Salt his wounds and tease his instincts, his hunger. "Where is she?" Astarion demanded, his tone sharp and impatient.

Mimicking confusion, he gently tapped his chin. The furrowed brows cast a shadow over his piercing ruby eyes. "I know of many, but none named so simply as 'She'..." he mused, his voice trailing off with a hint of contemplation. As if lost in thought, he released a soft sigh, the sound barely audible. "You'll have to elaborate, I'm afraid. Small words, if necessary for you." He adds quickly near the end of his sentence. The words accompanied a slight wag of his finger, creating a sense of derision in the atmosphere.

"Where," your vampire's deliberate speech draws out each word, "is Tav?"

"Ah, you mean my consort and fiancée, Lady Tav Ancunín! Impressive, isn't it? She carries my name already, and she hasn't even decided on a design for her wedding dress! But I spare no time nor expense for my beloved treasure." He looks up and away, a wistful expression crossing his face and a sense of longing fills his eyes as he lets out a dramatic sigh, before refocusing on his Spawn-self.

"Even you can understand that, surely..." he uttered with a subtle hint of challenge in his voice and then casually lifted his goblet to his lips.

"I understand enough to know she detests being spoken of as some cherished possession." Astarion snaps, his voice sharp and full of determination, as he dares to take a single step toward the vampire lord. "She desires simplicity, quiet, a humble but peaceful life. Not," he gestures broadly to the large, opulent room, glittering chandeliers casting a soft, golden glow over the hardwood floor, "this. If you have any genuine care for her, you would have seen that by now," he argues with conviction. Lowering his chin, every one of his instincts urging him to rend this imposter limb from wicked limb.

Pausing, the Ascendant's piercing gaze locked onto him, an iciness emanating from his unmoving expression. The air grew heavy with anticipation, a silence so profound it echoed in the room. "She will learn," he asserts, his voice laced with an unyielding determination that cuts through the silence like a blade. "Already, the seeds of knowledge have taken root within her. And once she embraces the timeless gift of eternity, we shall have an infinite expanse to immerse ourselves in her tutelage."

Astarion's eyes widen in disbelief as he is taken aback by the shamelessness that emanates from the Ascendants' words. In that moment, his mind becomes a raging battlefield, a chaotic storm of countless responses swirling within him. Insults, questions, and a myriad of other thoughts clash violently in his head. But amidst the chaos, he hones in on the crucial information just revealed. "You actually plan to turn her?" He manages to utter with a focused glare, his words dripping with a blend of incredulity and scorn.

The scene before him unfolds like a vivid tableau, each detail etched into his consciousness, the Ascendants' smug expressions, his self-assured posture, all of it adds fuel to the fire burning inside him. Astarion can almost taste the bitterness of his own anger, a bitter tang that fills his mouth as he struggles to find the right words to respond. "She's to be just another pretty spawn to sit at your feet, then?"

"Don't be absurd," The Ascendant sneers, his lip curling in a disgusted expression. Shadows dance along the walls as the Ascendant's power emanates. The aroma of incense and polished floorboards lingers in the air, mingling with a hint of something sinister. "My power has surpassed that of a mere vampire lord," he continues, his voice dripping with a chilling confidence. "The bride of a vampire Ascendant, a king, a god... should transcend the lowly status of cattle and spawn." As he speaks, his eyes, a piercing shade of crimson, reveal a darkness that seems to simmer beneath the surface. The thought of his own immense power elicits a twisted satisfaction, sending a shiver down the spine of anyone who dares to meet his gaze.

"The depths of my intentions for my darling consort, my queen-to-be, are far beyond anything you could even begin to comprehend." With a dismissive flick of his hand, he turns away, his red and black tailcoat swirling behind him like a macabre dance as he gracefully moves towards a table - adorned with a vase of dark flowers and flanked by a pair of elegant couches. He takes a deliberate sip from his goblet. The liquid, a rich crimson, glimmers in the warm golden glow of light, embracing the room from the chandeliers above.

Setting down his cup with a gentle clink, he shifts his attention back to Astarion, whose feet seem glued to the ground. The room feels heavy with tension, as if it could be sliced with a knife. This bastard, with his unpredictable nature, unsettles him to no end. With reluctance, he acknowledges that his best advantage lies in staying close to an exit, much as he loathes to admit it. "My time is fleeting and precious, little rodent. You emerged victorious in the tournament, earning yourself a single wish. However, be warned, I possess the authority to reject anything I find unsuitable," he states, adjusting his attire to settle comfortably into the plush seat behind him. Draping one arm lazily over the backrest, lifting his other hand to inspect his impeccably manicured nails, a small gesture of indifference amidst the charged atmosphere.

Astarion doesn't hesitate. "The gravesite of your lover. Where is it?"

"The mausoleum—"

"The real one." Interrupting, he receives a look that is both amused and indignant from his imposter. "I know you hid the body."

"There was no body to bury, never mind hide." The Ascendant bites, sending a dagger of a glare up at Astarion. "The disintegrate scroll reduced it to ash, and her soul has no desire to return." His tone murmured as he allows his gaze to drift back to his nails.

"I concealed the remains by the beach, where our paths intertwined for the first time. I was not keen to share her, even then..." he murmured, his voice devoid of any excitement. A pat of his pocket to check the content and a precise motion, his fingers delved into the recesses of his exquisitely crafted pants, retrieving a weathered locket. Without a parting look, he stretched out his arm, offering it to Astarion.

Cautiously, he stepped closer and delicately lifted the small silver locket from his hand. Tracing their intricate, though simple engravings with his thumb, he marveled at their intricate simplicity. As he attempted to open the latch, a faint click sound sung through the air only to be met with resistance. The mechanism lay broken, refusing to yield.

Before he could gather his thoughts or utter another word, the grand doors to the room suddenly swung open with a resounding creak. In a state of urgency, a servant burst into the room, her breathing heavy and ragged and eyes widened in alarm. "My Godking, there is a matter that requires your urgent attention!"

With no interest in responding, the Ascendant maintained a distant stare, fixed on his nails. "Another one?" He mutters under his breath.

"It's Lady Ancunín, she... her parents...!"

In a swift motion, the Ascendant springs to his feet, his tailcoat flowing behind him. With purposeful, long strides, he makes his way towards the door, the sound of his boots echoing through the room. The air carries a sense of urgency as he sternly commands, "Escort our tournament winner out, he's received his reward." He remains focused, not glancing back at either of them.

Startled, her voice trembles as she stammers a quick acknowledgement and the guards flanking the doors from the outside move to stand beside her. The heavy footsteps of the guards echo through the grand hall, armor polished and shining in the well lit grand hallway. They stand beside her, their imposing figures reinforcing the command of their Godking, urging Astarion to comply.

As he delicately slipped the locket into his pocket, his feet remained rooted to the ground. His mind, however, raced like a wild stallion, galloping through a vast expanse of thoughts. You didn't have "parents"...

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

A/N: I know Bhaal is the Dark Urge's father, before we get in an debate to tell me something I already know...

Next chapter could be another Spawn chapter or we could go back to Ascendant. Seems like we're sort of doing a two-and-two sort of format and we can maintain that for awhile.

Would love to hear from you guys as always how you're enjoying the story thus far. Feel free to drop a reply or an ask, whatever floats your boat.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #ascended astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #vampire spawn astarion #spawn astarion #ascended astarion vs spawn astarion #ao3 baldurs gate #His Star - His Queen #HS-HQ

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hausofneptune · 5 months

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(repost) [the astrology of pedro pascal] - hard moon aspects (major) | moon square pluto

hey y’all! in this series we’ll be covering major hard/challenging aspects (squares and oppositions) to pedro’s moon. minor challenging aspects to his moon (semi-squares/sesquiquadrates and semi-sextiles/inconjunctions) will be covered in an upcoming series, as well as the rest of the major and minor aspects to the rest of his planets, and asteroids in his chart! i also want to note that when it comes to these aspects, they have to be examined through the lens of the entire chart, as they’re influenced by a myriad of factors within it.

disclaimers | masterlist | ask

moon square pluto (5°13’)

– discussions surrounding plutonian themes can be heavy so content warning for violence, (childhood) trauma, death, and abuse. nothing detailed or explicit, just an advisory for those who want to avoid these topics. we do discuss parental loss at length in this post, so if that’s a subject anyone would like to avoid feel free to skip this one. ♡

in this aspect, the planetary bodies are in conflict with one another. the moon represents our subconscious feelings, our feminine (light/yin) sides, how we show up emotionally, how we crave nurturement, as well as our home and familial dynamics. it’s also indicative of our mother/maternal figures, our relationship to them, and how we perceive them to love and nurture us. pluto is considered the co-ruler of scorpio in modern astrology, and is representative of sexuality, the taboo, fears, death, control/domination, destruction and rebirth. pluto is also a generational planet, and stays in the same sign for 12-32 years, therefore people born within that time frame will all share the same placement.

this aspect indicates a struggle within the emotional subconscious. these natives tend to be private people, and constantly operate on offense. they’ve experienced turmoil in their lives, and therefore tend to assume all good things must come with a “catch”. there’s an innate fear of being controlled or overpowered by others, and they may isolate themselves for long periods of time as a means to maintain a sense of control. they may also self-isolate to gain a better understanding of themselves. their inner world is tumultuous, but they don’t typically show this side of themselves.

pluto is in an everlasting battle with their moon. their emotions, desires for nurturement and security, are constantly being overpowered by pluto’s need for control and deconstruction. these natives may suffer from stress as a result of subconsciously feeling like they’re always under threat, they tend to see others’ motivations through the lens of their own negative past experiences. they may anticipate being emotionally ambushed or attacked, and when they find themselves in a situation where that’s the case, their repressed destructive emotions will come to the surface in full-force.

the mother/maternal figure plays a significant role in the native’s life with this aspect. similar to having the moon in the 8th house or the moon in scorpio, the mother’s lived experience may have been 8H related, scorpionic, or plutonian. she may have been a caretaker to someone who was sick or struggled with addiction, experienced abuse or trauma, been a practicing occultist, worked in the sex industry, or (in the case of pedro’s mother) been a psychologist, social worker, or counselor. in extreme cases, this can also manifest as having a mother who was a source of trauma for the native. the mother could’ve been abusive, manipulative, or neglectful. she may have also been sick, struggling with addiction, or may have passed away when the native was young, the latter unfortunately being something that pedro experienced in his early 20s.

he discusses what the loss of his mother entailed for him emotionally in the Talk Easy with Sam Fragoso podcast: “‘it was summer in Chile as well. so it was very beautiful out, and a very beautiful day, and none of that seemed to coincide very well with what was happening. and so i remember it being an unbelievable thing to get through, to be honest with you.’ what do you mean by unbelievable? ‘i just love her so much, and she’s just kind of the love of my life in a way. the world doesn’t stop, and the sun doesn’t stop shining. [emotionally] it was hard for me to register, just to comprehend that you could be in a car going to a cremation service and see family playing in the yard, experiencing something so drastically different, right in front of you.’ that other people could be experiencing joy. ‘not even mildly, you know, like a beautiful summer day, and I remember that more than anything - everything stopped, and I was very resentful that nothing stopped.’”

apart from the maternal side of this aspect, moon square pluto can also manifest as disruption within their immediate family or in the home, as well as extreme separation anxiety, alongside fears of losing the parent(s) or home. this is also another part of this aspect we can see the manifestation of with pedro, not only in his parents escaping Chile when he was a child, but as well as the fear he had in relation to his parents’ safety, specifically his mother’s. this is something he also mentions in the Talk Easy with Sam Fragoso podcast: “‘[there’s a] Costa-Gavras movie called Missing with Sissy Spacek and Jack Lemmon, which deals with the military dictatorship in Chile at the time. it’s a true story where an American journalist went missing and was found dead. i remember watching this at home on cable, and there was a moment where Sissy Spacek‘s character - she doesn’t make it home before curfew, and she just kind of gets trapped in the city. and, again, sort of a beautiful, small framed woman that reminded me so much of my mother, i sort of projected these kind of images of my mother into these characters’ circumstances.

“‘and i just remembered completely falling apart when she was in danger, when she was so afraid, and imagining that that could’ve happened to my mother. i remember having a little bit of a breakdown,’ it’s like in the house, no one in the family talked about it, ‘no,’ and it took a film from Hollywood to kind of give language to something no one was giving language to. ‘yeah, and you know, i could sit through anything at the time and i remember, like, just starting to cry and being like ‘i can’t - i can’t watch this.’ and i was like, gosh, i don’t know, i must’ve been like eight [years old].’”

in youth, these natives may have felt like their emotions were bigger than them. this, alongside the turmoil within their households or families, could’ve made them hypersensitive or anxious. their childhoods tend to be a source of wounding, resulting in their deep-rooted insecurities and fears. their need for control comes from a place of feeling as though they never had it, and therefore, they feel they need it as a means to feel safe and secure at all times. throughout their lives they will encounter dramatic changes and growth that will inevitably bring them closer to their families. over time, they may end up feeling like their family members are the only ones that truly understand them and accept them for who they are.

because those with this aspect tend to “protect” this intense side of themselves, pressure will inevitably build under the things that they attempt to keep a lid on, and burst when push comes to shove. while their innate desire for control may be understandable, they struggle to recognize that repressing this side of themselves is ultimately working against their best interest, their internalized anguish will end up controlling them in the long run.

in relationships, this may manifest as a fear of intimacy or a refusal to show up emotionally. they’re emotional hermits, and can be aloof when it comes to their own feelings. their preconceived notion that others innately want to hurt them typically manifests the most in this area of their lives. they may want their partners to “prove” themselves, and can be very expectant of others to adjust or change themselves to best suit their own desires and needs. they can come off as emotionally demanding, and tend to be non-reciprocal in return.

they hate feeling restricted/controlled by or subservient to their partners, and when this is the case, they can grow resentful and may resort to manipulative, subversive behaviors. these behaviors are triggered by their deep-rooted fears of heartbreak, loss, and rejection. it can be difficult for those around them to understand the way the natives’ emotions overwhelm and restrict them. unfortunately, they may even subconsciously sabotage their own relationships as a result of their insecurities and fears. they could encounter power struggles frequently in relationships, and must work to know when to mediate and compromise with their partners.

mastery of this aspect takes time and patience, there is a metamorphosis that these natives must go through. as mentioned, they tend to self-isolate to work and heal themselves, they may also favor being single or alone for the most part. it takes time, maturity, and healing through what they’ve experienced to reach a point of self-actualization, they could benefit from therapy or counseling as well. they grow to have a great understanding of the dark side of life, as they’ve lived through so much of it. they must productively channel their energy into self-growth or servicing others, rather than intense reactions to the people and situations around them. when they learn to trust life and unlearn the expectation of betrayal, they can become amazing mentors, teachers, counselors, etc. and have the capacity to nurture and help others, especially the most vulnerable among us.

i mentioned before how i’m a (virgo) moon in the 8H girly myself, and i find the similarities between the moon in the 8H, moon in scorpio, and moon square pluto to be so interesting. my mom was actually a scorpio moon and struggled with an illness since she was born, which in turn made my childhood pretty turbulent, and she actually ended up passing away when i was a teenager. i also have the “emotional hermit” trait as well. i tend to self-isolate a lot and getting me to be vulnerable is the equivalent of pulling teeth:). it should go without mentioning that these placements aren’t going to manifest the same for everyone, though. you could have these placements and have the perfect relationship with your mom or a great childhood. every part of your natal chart has varying degrees of influence, so the impact will be different for everyone!

but as always if anyone has any of the placements or aspects mentioned in this post i’d love to hear how it personally manifests in your own life and how it impacts your personality, or if anyone has anything to add in general feel free to reach out and let me know!

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hero-israel · 4 months

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Hi, how are you? Wishing you the best.

I'm really interested to hear what you think about the Nexus definition of antisemitism. It sounds like it has some valid contributions in theory but unfortunately many of the people that I saw endorse it before 10/7 went mask off later on during the war (or on October 8). Specifically, the "double standard" bit which some people weaponize to hold Israel to a higher standard because, according to what it says it's not prima fascie of antisemitism as people can care more about Israel because of its special relationship with US (this might also be a strawman argument as I don't recall the IHRA say criticism of Israel as prima fascie either). Anyhow, I'm also wary because I often hear BDS supporters and Corbynites cite this definition in opposition to the 3Ds of antisemitism and IHRA, and I've seen the proponents of the definition itself go out of their way to contextualize people's anti-Israel remarks (like Ilhan Omar herself) saying things like "Hatred against Israel is different from Hatred against Jews" which I'm like uhm actually.

Sorry for rambling, would love to hear your thoughts! Take care :)

The IHRA definition is perfectly fine as-is.

The problem is that ANY definition of antisemitism as advanced by actual normative Jews - ANY definition which says "something goes too far" - will become "controversial," as the IHRA definition purportedly is. And so then you have a working group and a position paper and an interim committee and a comment period and a referendum needing a quorum and an advisory board doing the work of integrating the synthesis of input from all stakeholders and just every last bit of it should be waterboarded with sulfuric acid.

Nexus added more wiggle room to when "criticism" does or doesn't become antisemitism, but it was all in vain because the point of antisemitism is that nothing is antisemitism, it's all just "criticism" and Jews may never complain about it or codify methods to stop it. The more people insist they need to fine-tune and finagle the definitions, the less likely they would ever care about it. Remember when Trump was first elected, and there were all those posts about how the way to undermine a system without LOOKING LIKE you are undermining it is to seem like you're going along loyally with it but to raise all kinds of procedural points and keep repeating old debates so that nothing ends up being done? It's like that. And they would probably be comfortable telling you that defining antisemitism is fascism.

As for the "my taxes pay for this, of course I'm mad" concept, right from the outset we can note that this is ruled out for any non-Americans, so the Corbynites and French street pogromists have no such fig leaf. American taxes go all over the world, to people of all colors and backgrounds, and countries with all kinds of human rights nightmares in their closets (or, usually, on their front lawns in broad daylight). How long do you think it would take for an obsessively negative fixation on Egypt or Afghanistan among mixed company to be called Islamophobia? Our taxes have certainly gone to Palestine, funding "pay-for-slay" and UNRWA.

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helloescapist · 8 months

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Hi ! Sorry if this request is a little ehh yk since i aint so good at this but your writing absolutely amazes me so .

would you consider a request kinda suggestion thing thats like . A shinobu x gn reader that where friends (mostly around their training for the final selection) but just after that they just dissapeared completely , but like after 4 years they accidentaly reunite when the reader is sent to the butterfly state for medical attention . kinda hurt comfort yk ? If you dont like it feel free to ignore it !

hello, hello!

Can we talk about how cute moments in the training years with Shinobu would be? When she wasn't tied to the duties of the Insect Hashira, and just allouwed to be fiesty? She would be a total terror on the Butterfly Estate!

Anyways, thank you for your sweet words. <3 I did my best with this one, and I hope it meets your expectations. (I admittedly, may play with fluff prompts of all of the hashiras in their training days because.. it just sounds adorable). I'm sorry it took so long to respond, I wanted ot be sure my research for the weapon and techniques would be useful and insync with one another.

What Remains | Shinobu Kocho

Word Count: 2508?

Setting: Shinobu Kocho x gn!reader [friend fic, but if you squint underlining pining]

Content Warning(s): gore/blood, mentions of death, and depression, minor spoilers if you are not familiar with Shinobus past

Summary: caught in a battle with a worhty advisory and the tilt of fate no longer in your favor, you reflect upon the friend you have left behind in your youth and fears. Regrets that threaten to follow you to the grave. You would do anything to piece back together what remains of the friendship you fled so many hears ago.

A/N: the reader’s staff is inspired by a silambam staff originating from Southern India. I highly recommend looking up the history if you have the time. The inspiration for the original breathing is from the, if you can believe it, mother of pearl (Nacre), the inner lining of shells used by some species of molluscs.

Blood spattered the side of your brow, dripped down the lining of your draw. The tinge of metallic searing your nose, blinding your senses. It had been years since someone had successfully penetrated your barrier.

The weight of your faithful staff balanced between your dominate arm, curled around your forearm and the end pressed against your back. Knees bent beneath you as the force of air shattered your lungs. Heaved in the sharp breath of oxygen, struggled against cracked ribs, the burden of your weapon beginning to wear upon your body over the extended period of use. The battle had waged far longer than you had anticipated, nor had you expected your opponent to be such a troublesome demon. It had been years since you questioned the reliability of your weapon, and felt the strain upon your muscles. Ligaments strained under the weight. Trembled your grasp, revealing the exhaustion tumbled over your form. When was the last time you doubted your abilities in combat? Pondered the resolve of your might in battle. Your breathing technique had become renowned for its capabilities. Had received praise for being a fortress, impenetrable. Though you certainly knew the limitations of its uses—this had not been the first time you had found an enemy in close range despite the protective field of your breathing. The curl of a growl shattered across your back, the metallic swing, the draw of your staff curled around your sides. The tilt of your hips into the sway, catching the draw of claws that threatened to pierce your skin once more. The iridescent of your breathing technique catching the dying stars of night. The wet grass beneath your feet stumbling your normally tight form, the slick beneath your sandals offered little traction. Ah, no, this had not been the first time someone had penetrated your defenses, distant memories of your younger years toyed in your mind as your body ran on instinct.

She had been small, adorably so. Standing significantly shorter than your peers for her age, her weight provided little substance to her bones. As though a butterfly that had been carried upon Himejima-sensei’s shoulders. Regardless of the way she furrowed. Her scowl noticeable despite her older sister’s insistence to cool her temper, her tongue remarkably sharp despite her age. At a glance, one would assume that the smaller girl had been younger than expected. Teased by the other students for her less than remarkable stature, humorous in comparison to the gentle giant who instructed your techniques. Over saw your manners, and guided you through training under the Demon Crops care. Though, you knew better than anyone as having been a longtime student, Himejima-sensei neither cared if any of you went on to be slayers. Rather, the distant burdens of a forgotten past had strengthened his mentor resolve. Insured that the children under his care would not leave his protection until they were capable of fending for themselves, the tears he shed at those who had departed upon new lives, and the comfort for those who remained—yet, for all of his kindness, this little brat spat out words wielded by drunken adults. The vein upon her brow throbbing as she spat out curse after curse, Shinobu’s temper triggered by the littles of infringements. This time having resulted from another student commenting on her stature, a noted sore spot evident in how she had pursued the source. Slammed him to the ground, crawled on top of him, and flinging her fists in all the might she could muster, only swayed from her assault by her older sister’s obvious disappointment and soothing words. You had begun to wonder if the younger Kocho had a sense of restraint, often pondered how it was two beings so unlike one another could in fact be blood relatives.

That day had been the final straw for you. Drawn from the disrespect the younger Kocho had once again inflicted upon your instructor, you had challenged her to a match. Her over confidence having met you head on, so sure of herself despite the fact that a rationed bag of rice in the store house weighed more than she had—you knew this, had born witness to Shinobu’s attempts to heave it into the storage before being crushed beneath its weight. Yet, despite the fact that she was nearly a foot shorter than yourself, and severely under her weight class, the dagger wielder had met you head on. Resilient despite the ways you popped her repeatedly. Speed, in practice you had noticed how fast the younger girl had been on her feet. Honestly, it was likely the only reason she had ever gotten the jump on any of the other students, but not this time. The practice stick pressed between your hands, swirled in each movement, any attempts to out maneuver you quickly thwarted with a pop of bamboo upon her cranium. The loss of the match staining her pride, and driving her forward. Training had become a pass time less spent crucifying her peers, but truly immersed in instruction. Her temper only making her slopping and agitated, yet she persisted. Swat after pop, after jab, time after time. Regardless of the way you swept the feet beneath her frame, plopped disgracefully upon her bottom. The sparing matches would wage over weeks. Each encounter drawing your chuckles, for all of her wit and her rage, the younger trainee was playful. Determined, a trait you rarely saw in your peers, and before you had known it, you had welcomed these sparing matches. At times, she would catch you by surprise, and others, you were able predict. Drawing forth snacks to place upon the veranda before meeting her practice blade. The distinct smack of your staff across her cheek resulting in the cool of a pack pressed against flesh. The mumbling of frustration between small pursed lips, and amethyst eyes that glanced at you in her pout, the smile you provided soothing as you offered her a treat. In time and under instruction, Shinobu would learn to utilize her strengths in battle, and when she had done so, she had become a worthy rival. One quick to seize opportunities, to slip between the cracks your swings. Tumble her small frame against your height, the close encounters drawing the swept of your brow. The triumph of her laugh, upon the smack of your bottom across the ground. The first time she had ever bested you, drawing the joy of hard work, and a ridiculous dance. Her small hips wiggled beneath her hakama. Trembled as she shook her hands together before stretching them to the sky. Proud. She had been so proud, and you found yourself laughing aloud when she offered her hand to your own.

Days of sneaking upon the butterfly estate echoed through your mind. Mischievous kids that evaded duty and medicinal instruction offered by the older Kocho, Shinobu flying over the small ownings, while you lifted yourself through the air with the plant of your staff to the ground. Laughter upon the obvious scolding of kakushi insisting you to return your duties, abandoned to the wind in favor of dango stalls. To hear the Wind Hashira openly scold you, for dodging the Flower Hashira’s care. The whelp upon your heads that had grown in place of his righteous smack, the blush that painted his cheeks when Kanae attempted to sooth his ire. Not that he nor her had ever admitted to such affections, and it never lasted long. The slip of Shinobu’s tongue only eliciting another outburst from the swordsman. Pressed fingers of the older girl keeping him in place, as you dashed down hallways. Weaved past kakushi and slayers alike, snuck castella cakes from the kitchens, and played in the trees of the gardens. Partners in crime joined at the hips through your training years, unafraid to wreak havoc across the Butterfly Estate. The pride Kanae had expressed upon your passing of the final selection. Touched clothes to your cheek, evaluated the strain upon your wounds. Both of your bodies tumbled through thickets of wisteria, rattled against rivals. Pride beaming form your features, equipped to take on the world despite the sting of antiseptic pressed against your cheeks. Prayed for the moment to never end. TO disappear in to the folds of time, to remain upon such happy memories… Her smile. Y-you could remember how Kanae had beamed at you. Accepting, and warm, the night the smile had slipped from her lips. Blood that painted the night air, the chuckle and nauseauty joy of rainbow eyes that elicited humor at your suffering. The loosening of her haori drawn in battle, discarded as a means of escape for you. She knew. Damn it, she had known, the blood drawn, the soothing sound of her voice as though she were comforting a child. Y-you hadn’t been a child! You had a duty! To the Corps, to the Flower Hashira who had requested you for this vary mission. To Shinobu who awaited your arrival at home. Little of your protest mattered. The slam across your head, the fading of the sky before you, and the haori that fluttered over your shoulders before you collapsed to the ground.

You never got to apologize. How could you? When you had awoken, you had seen the shatter of her tears. The kakushi had founded your body practically discarded in the woods, the haori painted over your shoulders. Unable to fend off the chill of your body. Evidence of the battle, blood marred across the mountain terrain. Shattered over trees, yet, no remains to be found other than your own. Overheard horrors of the night like a ghost upon your flesh. Sickened and nauseated. Pressed between vomit that threatened to spill as your heart plummeted to the grave. The slip of the burdened haori revealing your sins as it sunk to the ground. Your feet eliciting a response before thought. Run. Run. RUN. Tripped over boulders, stumbled over branches, and fallen trees, the distant shouts of kakushi falling upon ears of the dead alone. Heedless of the blood that caught against branches, nor the tarnished of your uniform across your form, revealing peeks of skin as you fled into the day. Fled from your duties. From your home. From your friend.

The staff drawn between practiced hands. Fingers that ached and had become slashed open by opportunistic claws. The growl in your ear, and the fatigue that drew upon your brow. I’m going to die, whispered upon your thoughts. Numb realization as the iridescent gleam that captivated your staff shattered over nails. Colors that faded across the spectrum of a rainbow, glistened in their resolve. Just a little more, you told yourself. The meadow drawn upon little shade, the distant shatter of night in the distance of the east. Colors that shooed away the late hours, and the tremble of large eyes against your opponent, desperate to get away. The shake of your smile as you seized your staff upon their back, entrapping them against your chest. “Fourth Form, Inner Shell,” hissed against your teeth. The revolt of bones, the demon becoming increasingly fringed upon the break of day. Desperate to escape the light, the encompassing of your breath. Draws of color that folded over the two of you. Shattered your bones together in a sickening crunch. Illuminating the last touches of the night sky as blood drew from the force of two bodies forced together as bones snapped. Your fortress utilized as a steel trap. For the both of you.

Shinobu, I wish… I’m- I’m so sorry.

Voices echoed through the passage of time. Demanded tools, whispered needs of bandages. Imparted details you could not quite grasp, nor completely understand. Details across a series of confusion that blurred your conscious. Ached your headache, and shunned your thoughts. It, it really didn’t matter anymore. Told yourself it would only be a matter of time before death greeted you, escorted you into the afterlife. No, no perhaps not the afterlife. Unfinished business, your desires to see an old friend once more would likely bind you to the world. Conscious that faded in and out, drifted upon the passing of words. Some soothing and sweet, praising progress though the world seemed dark, and one such voice threatening. Scolding really, dared to reveal any and all obscure details of childhood. Peculiar, and childish. To threaten your youthful fears, regardless of how silly they had been… who would dare? Temper seethed, and… shook your shoulders? Who would treat a corpse in such manner.

Sunlight flittered over the drawings of curtains; the nauseating smell of antiseptic greeted the flutter of your eyelashes. Your sight hazy as it swept over your environment. Having expected the embrace of death, the warm linens pressed into your surprise. Flowers tucked into cared for vases, bare antique furniture. The numb movements, testing whether or not you had in fact returned to the living, or rather trapped between the state of life and death. The tremble of your toes, testing out their existence. The draw of a white kimono pressed into your chest, the signs of the battle you had endured written across your flesh. Bandages wound tightly over weary muscles. Wrappings drawn across your ribs, snug and difficult to breathe as you attempted to fidget your fingers. Unable to properly navigate their being. Rather, unable to feel them at all. The room… the room far too familiar for your liking, though the thought was difficult to grasp. Distant memories, of laughter, and poorly bound wounds… you had never been adapt at medical care. Glimpses of a past you had left behind wrinkled into your bedding. The press of lavender hair curled upon the white bedding. Touched upon your lap. The telling curl of butterfly ribbon that threatened to shatter your heart caught upon the slightly unraveled curl of dark hair. Released from a bun that had begun to tumble in her sleep. The press of her long eyelashes into the bedding, purple hues that bordered her eyes, the small draw of her breath against your leg. Exhaustion, hours of late work having drawn upon her form. Collapsed at your side, the water basin had grown worm, as the cloth pressed between her strained fist, caught amongst the fingertips of her other hand. Your own hand, having grown numb under her strain. The Insect Hashiras fist trembled beneath her fist as her resolve to cling to your side snagged at the bandages of your fingers. Her pale complexion, illuminating of the moonlight, and the draw of her purple strands the envy of any wisteria branch. The trouble of your smile, tumbled over trembling lips. The met of your brow. To see her once more like this. To have her at your side as though no time had pass. Distant recollections of her poor bedside manners drawing an unsure smile—she had always struggled in that department. The curl of her fingers, calloused and practiced as her resolve. The worry evident in the way she curled into you, refused to release you from her hold. Nor could you bring yourself to part from her grasp.

Words to spill. Apologies, and confessions. Heart ache, and betrayal, to bridge time lapses, and share had the years had treated you. To apologize—there were so many things you heart longed to express to her. The soft sigh of slumber, hours of dedication in her collapse. Tears that trembled, ghosts of memories. Her laughter, her smile. Her temper. All of it within reach, and how your heart begged to see all sides of your estranged friend once more. Left with little ability to seize the closeness of yearning, the shiver of your other hand, dared to fumble through her hair. As you had so many years ago, her pride never had allowed her to confess how the Insect Hashira enjoyed having her hair soothed back. Too childish, you had understood, but in quite moments when the hours of study had drawn from your day, and sleep met her upon the veranda, you would comfort her in such ways. Smiled upon the resolve of a woman who was bound by her resolve. The quiver of your eyelashes, and the weight of tears that succumbed to gravity as you fought back the sob in the back of your throat. The curl of her bangs pressed between your fingers, as you tenderly swept her bangs from her brow. Studied the softness of her face, noted how age had captivated some of her features. Whispered prayers of gratitude to the gods who had given you one last chance. The bonds of time wearing upon your heart. You had been given, one more chance, and though you were unsure of how the passage of time, loss, and circumstances had marred your friendship, you could not help but feel relief at the sight of her so close. Within grasp, a friend your heart had desperately longed for all of these years, eternally grateful that she still remained upon this world. The care etched into your bandages, and faded memories offered the opportunity for new life. The opportunity to piece back together what remains of your friendship, or to endure her wrath… Tears that rolled upon your cheeks as you bent down, pressed your forehead to her own. Y-You would plead forgiveness, but for now.. you just..

I missed you.

#demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #shinobu kocho #insect hashira #🍡tsuyospeaks

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a-room-of-my-own · 1 year

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Susie Green, the former chief executive of Mermaids, who stood down “unexpectedly” last year, has been hiding in plain sight for so long that I sincerely hope we can see her clearly now. How this woman was ever allowed to have so much influence over vulnerable children, never mind medical professionals, is frankly disturbing. She is a former IT consultant with no medical training – unless you count the fact that she won 2016’s Sparkle Diversity Champion of the Year as a specialised qualification. I certainly don’t. The story of how much power she came to have remains shocking.

The organisation she ran was once not controversial; it was a support group for children and parents of kids with gender issues until she got her hands on it. It became an activist and lobby group receiving hundreds of thousands of pounds in lottery funding and grants and was hired by the Department for Education to provide training on “gender identity” in schools. As with Stonewall, it had huge reach into key institutions and the usual gormless celebrity support.

We now find that Green herself had direct influence on policy at the gender identity development service (GIDS) at the Tavistock. After being told that the Tavistock did not have any records of meeting with Green, when threatened by court action, miraculously it found 300 pages of them.

They reveal that Green spoke directly to the director Dr Polly Carmichael, had advisory roles on two studies and – most scandalous of all – could refer children for treatment at the clinic even when their own GPs had repeatedly advised against it. The Cass Review, remember, effectively shut down GIDS as it was not fit for purpose.

GIDS was in turmoil and dealing with a new cohort of distressed young women with gender dysphoria; the number of girls jumped 5,000 per cent in a seven-year period. Cass found there were no long-term follow-ups even though nearly every child who was referred for prescribed puberty blockers went on to cross-sex hormones [which are used to transition from biological gender to desired gender].

Puberty blockers are controversial because we don’t have enough longitudinal studies to really understand their impact, which is why several countries such as Sweden and Norway have stopped them. The NHS site says they are not simply reversible. Research is showing that when distressed teenagers are given therapy, they no longer want to change gender and many accept they are gay. Puberty blockers tend to be the first step on a medical pathway that leads to cross-sex hormones and surgery. The other issue which Green should know well, is that if given too early, genitalia do not develop enough to make satisfactory “new models”. These kids may well lose their fertility and any chance of sexual pleasure.

There is an infamous Ted Talk and other YouTube videos of Green talking of what happened to her own son. He wanted a Barbie Rapunzel and other girl things. Her husband, she claims, didn’t like this “girly” boy. Later, he was whizzed off to the States at age 12 for puberty blockers and at 14 was out on oestrogen. He spent seven hours on his 16th birthday on an operating table in Thailand in what is euphemistically called “gender-affirming” surgery.

Green explains this meant “basically use[ing] the skin from the penis to create a vagina. And she hadn’t developed through full puberty so, not to put too fine a point on it, there wasn’t much to work with”. That is the work of puberty blockers.

This operation was done in Thailand as it is illegal to do that to a 16-year-old here. Indeed, it is now illegal in Thailand. If this well-known information is not a red flag, I don’t know what is. Yet this woman was, we now know, given carte blanche to overrule psychiatrists and medics and to push her dubious agenda. What is that agenda? It is the lucrative invention of the trans child. I say lucrative, because in the States, billions of dollars are projected to be made by surgeons and drug companies with lifelong medicalisation being offered to 13-year-olds who have been diagnosed sometimes as young as four.

Green herself has now chummed up with Dr Helen Webberley of GenderGP, who was once suspended, and who sells cross-sex hormones to under-16s, which is not allowed in the UK. This is done online with no counselling.

None of this is really about the trans rights of adults. It is about the pushing of extreme gender ideology on to distressed children. Any basic model of safeguarding has gone out of the window. It is a complete negation of the duty to ‘Do No Harm’ and at its centre is a woman who should never, ever have been given any authority.

I really hope that for Susie Green, the game is finally up.

#gender critical #feminism #transgender #radfem please interact

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boroughshq · 4 months

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EVENT 001: SNOWSTORM CHARACTER SHUFFLE.

"The recent drop in weather has definitely been a chilly reminder of the season! We've had, what has it been, two inches of snow this past weekend, and a possible storm in route? Jones has been keeping an eye on it and we’re hoping for warmer news, let's check in with him now. Jones, what do you see?" "That's right! Building on what Sarah's just said, the city has been hit with some snow these last few days, with just over an inch of a half of sticking snowfall this last weekend. I know that may not seem like much, but it did break our city's longest recorded streak of no significant snow accumulation as we've had something of a snow drought following last winter, which has clearly come to an end. The good news is that it doesn’t appear like the snow will be staying for long. While the northeastern states were under a winter weather advisory and winter storm watch, as you can see here, the storm is a mover, and it is quickly accelerating up and off the east coast into the Atlantic; it’ll be out of here in a blip! There are some minor indicators that it may move back towards us on it's way out, so we will be keeping an eye on it. New Yorkers should expect to see some drifting snow and colder temperatures, but all signs are pointing to this monster of a snow storm moving straight past us for the time being." "Well isn't that a relief! Thanks Jones! Let's check in with..."

WELCOME TO BOROUGHSHQ FIRST OFFICIAL EVENT!

This event will be a character shuffle in order to encourage character interaction between characters who may not have engaged in threads with each other yet. Characters will be randomly*** paired up with each other during a sudden unexpected snowstorm. The circumstances of their forced proximity can be plotted up by the muns assigned to each other, and can be as tame, imaginative, comedic, or dramatic as you'd like! Please read the below information for more descriptive details of the event.

Participation: In order to participate, please submit the names of the characters you'd like to be involved using this form by 11:59pm EST on January 29th (Monday). Character pairings will be posted the following day on January 30th (Tuesday).

***Though characters will be randomly paired primarily, you are free to request your character to be paired up with another character for plotting purposes (we love some forced proximity angst!). Both parties will need to specify the same pairing request in the form for it to qualify.

IC Timeline: Canonically, the snowstorm will suddenly pass through New York on Tuesday, February 1st.

OOC Timeline: Members will have between February 1st through February 8th to post their initial starters around the snowstorm. After 2/8, no new starters can be posted, but writers are free to continue their event thread until it's conclusion. An announcement will be made on both days when the event has started and ended.

Threads: During this time period, members will be expected to write a thread with their paired partner, but members can also engage in other snowstorm related threads with other members, and are free to continue non-event threads as well! Just please be sure to tag all event threads as bhqevent001 for differentiation purposes.

If you have any other questions about the event, please do not hesitate to reach out to the main!

Overall Event Timeline:

1/26-1/29: Submit characters for participation by 1/29 11:59pm EST (form)

1/30: Character pairings released

2/1: Snowstorm Weather Report Detials & event threads allowed to be posted

2/8: Last day to post new event threads

#boroughs.event #bhqevent001 #boroughs.announcement #!!!!! <3 !!!!!!#I've been staring at weather reports for too long haha

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theromanswerequeerwillelaborate · 5 months

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Blue Eye Samurai and Gender

I posted this to my Reddit, but wanted to put it out here too. Honestly, would make a video essay about it if I had time.

TLDR: this show does really interesting things with gender from both a modern and historical perspective.

Disclaimer 1: I am a queer person who enjoys applying a queer lens to media. I think it reveals interesting aspects of a text that are fun to engage with. If you do not like that sort of thing either for being averse to LGTBQ+ topics or just do not like analyzing media because you prefer to just enjoy a show for its "hell ya" moments, that is not a problem. I would obviously disagree with you, but there is no "right way" to engage with media and we can be respectful of each other's preferences.

Disclaimer 2: This show is set in Edo era Japan, or at least a stylized interpretation of it. Applying modern concepts of gender or modern standards and categories relating to gender must be done carefully and with caveats. As an example, the British Museum recently recategorized the emperor Elagabalus as a woman due to how that individual seems to have identified themselves. While it is cool to see recognition of queer people in history, I do not think that it is historical to say that Elagabalus was a trans woman because the category of "trans" did not exist for Romans as it does for us today. There has to be an appreciation for the historical context in which a person existed, and applying our modern lens to things is ultimately a distortion that needs to be accounted for.

Right, that being said, this show does some cool things with gender.

Off the bat, Mizu is depicted as embodying the social role of a man for the majority of the show. She dresses as a man and performs as a man in most social situations. This is necessitated for her by a number of factors. First, there is the in narrative need for her to maintain anonymity. If her pursuers and advisories see her as a man, she is able to better avoid them. Second, being perceived as male removes the bias that adversaries would have against her in battle. If they knew she was a woman, they would be less likely to be intimidated in a fight. Third, there were social barriers in the Edo period for women that Mizu needs to avoid to accomplish her mission. The most obvious example is working with Sword Father. Mizu binds her chest to seem more male while working with him. When Mizu leaves sword father, he refuses to allow her to reveal that she is a woman as this would be a socially-enforced taint on his work. In this context, it is better for Mizu to be genderless or to embody the gender of a man.

We can see this addressed further when Ringo reveals that he knows Mizu is a woman and she threatens him to not tell others. It is clear that Mizu sees the need to continue to be seen as a man to operate within her cultural context in the way that she wants to. When Mizu spars with Mikio, demonstrating her skills in a fundamentally masculine art, he calls her an "abomination." This mirrors the use of this term as it is repeatedly applied to her being of mixed ancestry. Mizu violates social norms by her mere existence and further violates them by being skilled in combat. While she can do nothing escape being of partially white ancestry, she can adopt the persona of a man to mitigate the degree to which she is perceived as an abomination, and so she does. Finally, in the climatic clash with Fowler, he discovers Mizu to be a woman, and perceives this as giving him power over her that he did not hold when they were on the equal footing of combat. The introduction of her being a woman to the scenario changes things and unbalances their dynamic.

Indeed, in most circumstances, a gender imbalance grants Fowler and other men power over women. This is seen most especially in the courtesans and other sex workers. As women and as sex workers, they are tools or things for the men to use as they see fit, to gain sexual gratification. The social norms of Edo japan dictates that women are subservient to men, and this expectation is often shown throughout the series. For this reason, Mizu sees the need to escape her woman-hood and adopt the guise of man. She transcends what should have been her social station through gender performance. We might draw a parallel to how she conceals her eyes with glasses. Just as the glasses cover an aspect of her that ought to ostracize her from society, so too does the guise of man cover her being a woman and allow her to step outside of societal limitations.

However, we can see Akemi's journey as a foil to that of Mizu's. Akemi begins her story very much trapped by the gendered expectation of her society. Her father plans to marry her off as he sees fit, and she is unable to exercise agency over her life except through placating him in a manner that conforms to gender expectations. She must play the role of a subservient daughter to get what she wants and marry Taigen. But this modicum of control is proven false when her father changes his mind and decides Taigen is unworthy and she is to marry the Shogun's son. The gendered role of subservience is seemingly proven too much for Akemi to overcome. She is trapped by it.

But then we see Akemi attempt to defy her father and strike out on her own. In that act, she finds the best way for her to actualize her desires is to again conform to a gender role, that of a courtesan. In that role, and using her sexual appeal as a tool, she is able to convince the flesh-seller to take her where she wants to go. This pathway of sexuality as a tool for agency is then reinforced Madam Kaji's business where we see sexuality as an area in which women can demonstrate power over men. It is arguable that the power they exercise here is not actual, as it is still within the framework of men receiving what they desire from the appearance of subservience to women, but the men still hold all the power in the exchange. They are the one's paying for it. It is a service and as such is something they engage with willingly and in the "real world" of day to day life women are still ultimately subservient to men. The momentary reversal of power dynamics in a way reinforces the status quo because the men chose when that role reversal happens and when it ends. (I would draw a parallel to Saturnalia ultimately acting as a reinforcement of slave/free power dynamics in ancient Rome.)

Nevertheless, Akemi has found one area in which she can exercise power. It is still within a system of patriarchy, but while she cannot escape that system she can find expressions of agency within it through her sexuality. We see this when she marries the Shogun's son and earns his trust and affection through her sexuality. The act of her doing so is framed as her backing off of an aggressive action and assuming the role of a subservient wife. Her tone of voice and word choice makes this clear. She embodies the role of the placating woman so as to better position herself to later exercise power. This is perhaps why she does not want to run away with Taigen at the end of the season. Akemi has found that she can be powerful by embodying her social role rather than by running from it. This is a clear contrast to Mizu who found power and agency by refusing the societal role of her gender.

To be clear, I am not about to argue that Mizu is trans. As I said above, that would not be historically accurate to label an Edo era person by modern categories. Moreover, while Mizu is clearly fine being seen as a man when it suits her, she never directly identifies as such. Indeed, in an exchange with Mikio, Mizu expresses that she has felt forced to embody manhood out of necessity and her mother's demands for secrecy. I am unsure if the creators of the show have commented on this, but I would argue that Mizu is cis-gendered who willingly violates gender roles of her society without that violation being part of her identity.

Finally, there are a number of points that we could find further aspects of gender being explored. Seki comments how he tried to be a good "mother" for Akemi, despite being a man. Taigen shows clear sexual attraction to Mizu despite it being ambiguous as whether he knows her to be a woman. Sexuality in general is an interesting topic for this show, as it is most often framed in terms of gendered power dynamics (as discussed above), and homosexuality only appears in contexts meant to denote sexual perversion. That and an inferred chemistry between Mizu and Akemi, but that is head-cannon territory.

I hope this is a good avenue for further discussion on this topic, and I hope we can engage in it respectfully and productively. Please, tell me your thoughts on what I have laid out and if there is anything I missed.

#blue eye samurai #media analysis #gender stuff

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