#And have been and will continue to be done by various parts of humanity

[twelvebooksstuff]

Yes, love that pattern for a job!

Yeah…I don’t think a lot of jobs are necessarily designed for people, honestly…that sounds so weird but the way a job/work environment is designed vs what would actually be helpful for workers is such a huge gap, most of the time! Your feelings are valid and relatable!! Workplaces, even less computer-based ones, can often feel like a machine where people are just seen as parts and less like you know, actual human beings, and it sucks. It doesn’t help when people at the top are so removed from everyday operations, that they don’t get it and make unhelpful choices as a result. Yes!!! The same information in three different ways (and three different places) happens all too often…*tries not to scream*

Ideal work schedule:

I show up and am given a list of cognitively engaging but achievable tasks

I complete the list

I leave immedietly

[twisted-broth]

A Human's Touch

Mr Gap x Reader

(Anything in bold is other world language)

It had been a while now since you had returned to the other world. It was hard to tell time here, but at least you knew that this was where you belonged. It was almost laughable to think that you once tried to leave this place.

You would never admit it, but you really owed a lot to the shit eating grin that always manages to pop up whenever you need him. Even now, with you life no longer in constant peril, he pops up somewhere nearby quite often. It could be from the crack of your closet, inside your bag, or a random hole in the wall that you swear wasn't there before. As annoying as Mr Gap was, he was probably the closest thing you had to a friend. He would even bring you things from the human world if you asked. For a price, of course.

You sigh as your "friend" holds one of your favorite books from the human world just out of reach. He was playing his favorite game again.

"Give leg." He demanded.

"Give foot." Was your counter offer. Most of your body parts would grow back, but it takes longer for bigger parts and more complex organs. Luckily there didn't seem to be a word in their language for liver or spinal column.

His expression twists for a moment, but the smile quickly returns. "Yes." He agrees.

The pain that radiates from your ankle would have made you pass out a few months ago, but now it only elicits a stifled grunt. You snatch the book from Mr. Gap's hand as he smiles at the newfound treasure that appears in his grasp. You sigh once more and put the book to the side before pressing an already bloodied towel to your ankle.

With the bleeding successfully stopped, there was nothing else for you to do but lie in bed while you waited for it to grow back. You spared a glance towards your new book, but couldn't muster the energy to read it. The isolation of this world had been wearing on you. You had been spending time with Mr Silvair and Mr Chopped lately, but there was another recent earthquake that blocked off your path to them. You had yet to find the time to search for a new one.

With an arm draped over your eyes, you fell back against your threadbare pillow. The covers rustled around you, giving away the presence of another with you.

"Why sad?" You opened one eye to look down at your covers. The face of Mr Gap blended in with the darkness above your legs. If he had a body, he would be nearly lying on top of you. The part of your brain that was still human couldn't help but think that some actual physical touch would be nice.

"I one. Sad. Friend not here." Elaborating on the concept of loneliness using a lexicon of 100 words wasn't really a task you wanted to undertake at the moment.

You had thought Mr Gap would either leave or laugh at you, but to your surprise he looked confused. "I here." He responded.

Now it was your turn to be confused. If you weren't mistaken, he seemed almost offended that you hadn't called him a friend.

"You friend?"

"Yes." If this language had some equivalent of 'duh', you imagined that would be what he would say instead.

All you can do in response is blink at him. You really never imagined that Mr Gap would hang around you because he considered you a friend. If anything, you thought he just saw you as a an endless stream of various body parts. "Thank you. I like friend."

Hesitantly, you lifted a hand to reach up and stroke his head. He looked mildly disgusted (which was often his expression anyway), but didn't react otherwise. His hair wasn't exactly pleasant to touch- it was greasy and weirdly damp in places- but at least it was something of what you had been missing. He continued to humor you, but you decided not to push your luck on how long he would allow you to continue touching him.

"Why touch?" He asked when you were done.

"Human like touch. Make sad go away." It wasn't exactly what you wanted to say, but you figured it would get the point across.

Hesitantly, one of his arms reaches out from beneath your covers. Your current working theory was that his arms just appeared whenever he needed them, but you haven't gotten around to asking him yet. Your positioning is a bit awkward, so he can't reach your head to return your pats. Instead, he pats you on the shoulder for a few seconds. His hands are cold and clammy, but those few seconds of touch are something you've been missing for a while.

You smile. Mr Gap could be annoying at best and cruel at worst, but it would seem that he does have a sweet side to him after all. You distantly wonder if some semblance of a normal relationship would be possible here. Unlikely, but it may not be as out of reach as you once thought.

"Thank you. You good friend." You said after a beat of silence. For a moment it appears like he isn't quite sure how to feel about your declaration. You don't imagine it's something people tell him often. After a second of thought, he returns your smile.

"Me good friend. You give heart?"

Well, you can work on that.

[immortalmrwavell]

Wavell’s Vacation 3

(Original story posted August 31st 2022) This story has received mild edits and corrections

Read the First Part and the Second Part here!

Week 3

Messing around as Jake for the last week was some of the most fun I’ve had in a long time. It was a shame to have to leave him in all honesty. I knew I wanted to end my vacation with the best experience of them all but my last body definitely set a high bar. Due to this I ended up searching all day long until I finally found a man suitable enough to be my final host.

It was pure luck that I happened to stumble across him when I did. I had simply been wandering the cities, streets and towns of various places. I hadn’t been able to find a man that clicked with me until I happened to wander into a certain house. Phasing through the walls, completely invisible, until I found a bedroom with a young couple laid fast asleep. It was a man and a woman though naturally my attention was only focused on the man.

He was large. Huge even! And so much of it was simply pure muscle! A bodybuilder for sure. But I needed more than just an incredible body. It was only after seeing his face that I made my decision. Turns out he wasn’t just some random hunk. Rather he was also none other than Eric Janicki! A man with a pretty big name in the fitness community online. He wasn’t someone that’d come to mind beforehand but seeing him now I just knew I had to have that body.

I could’ve possessed him right then and there but I decided to watch and wait for a while. Silently observing that muscle bound hunk of a man until he finally awoke and pulled himself out of bed. I watched him go through his morning routine starting not long after 6:00 AM, getting up and ready for the day. I watched him start with some morning cardio before grabbing breakfast. Later having a few video meetings with his clients before later brainstorming some content to post on his socials and keep his followers growing. All up until about 10:00 AM when he made his way towards the steam shower in his bedroom en-suite.

Initially I was going to follow him right away until I realised that something needed to be prepared before I took him. With a flick of my wrist I was able to summon up two potions from my storage room back home. Had to do it now since using my magic inside a regular human vessel could prove problematic hence why I hadn’t done it while inside Jake and Tim. But with that out the way, I was free to phase through the cloudy glass door and into Eric’s home steam room.

A malicious grin spread across my face as I was greeted with a sight that would make most gay men cream their pants. There I saw Eric’s giant naked body basking in the steam, sweating as his sizable cock and balls swung freely. I took a moment to float around his body and I couldn’t help but be astonished at how massive he looked from every angle. Tim Tebow was one thing but Eric was on a whole other level. And he was in bulking season! To say he was thick as fuck would be an understatement.

Of course I was enamoured with every inch of his body but I just couldn’t keep my eyes off that giant muscle ass. Before long I found myself lowering down until I was eye level with it, watching as it jiggled whenever Eric changed his stance. I brought my face closer and closer to it, almost as if I were hypnotised, until finally…

“AUUGHH! What the… FUUUU-” Eric yelped out as I suddenly pressed my face between his cheeks and into his tight hole. I felt his ass clenching hard as his hands swung towards his backside to find whatever was penetrating him but to no avail. It didn’t take long for me to reach the prostate while I forced his hole to stretch wider. As I continued to press inside I made sure to stimulate it aggressively causing Eric to let out a series of loud thunderous moans. The pain of being stretched was suddenly drowned out by an immense type of pleasure he’d never before felt. Within mere seconds his cock had grown from soft to its full 7 and a half inches, pulsing with excitement and ready to leak pre-cum.

Eric soon found himself leaning onto the wall of the steam room for support as his howls of pain mixed with intense pleasure grew louder. His legs spread apart as he unconsciously arched his back. It seemed even though Eric’s mind and soul didn’t want me inside, his body on the other hand was more than happy to welcome me as its new host. Who would I be to refuse such a generous offer…

After that I began surging into my new body even faster than before. Upon doing so Eric was banging his fists on the wall and stamping a foot on the floor in frustration with still no idea what the hell was happening to him. He let out a final roar as I made one last push, finally allowing the last of my form to slip inside his hole before it clamped shut in relief. With that Eric’s eyes rolled back as I spread myself throughout his whole body immediately, just like with Jake. Pushing my ghostly form into every crevice of Eric’s herculean body until at last his eyes closed… and mine opened.

The first thing I noticed was my new member bucking sporadically with sensitivity. I realised moments later it was due to Eric having blasted his load against the wall after all the prostate stimulation. With a grin I gently got down onto my knees before using Eric’s tongue to lick his thick salty nut off the wall. This man definitely keeps a good diet because it tasted fucking delicious! Only after I’d lapped up every drop did I finally fall onto my sore ass and start groping my new vessel for all its worth. I can only imagine what it would’ve looked like to a third party. A massive hulking man writhing around on the floor of his steam shower, grabbing at his pecs, wobbling his thighs, kissing his biceps like a horny slut.

About 10 minutes later the glass door creaked open as I, Eric Janicki, stepped out. A sly smirk adorned my stolen face as I waltzed over to the mirror to inspect myself. I poked and prodded at my new features. A perfect mix of pretty boy and ruggedly handsome. I styled my hair a little just as he would before stroking my beard. I can always admire a great beard on a man.

But of course the real show was yet to begin. I just couldn’t hold back any longer from just bringing up my arms and flexing them hard in my reflection. “Oh yeah! Fuckin cannons!” I blurted out before patting my right bicep. Once I was done admiring my arms, I couldn't help but turn my attention to the giant shelf of muscle on my chest. The pecs I’d had in Tim’s body had been great but these were more than just pecs, they were FUCKIN MUSCLE TITS! Before I knew they were bouncing away! Left! Right! Left! Right! Fuck it was fun!

But of course I couldn’t ignore my legs. I mean how could I?! Sure having a huge upper body was one thing but legs like these weren’t something you see everyday. My new thighs were absolutely colossal! They forced me to stand with my legs further apart simply due to their sheer enormity. And my new calves were certainly no joke either. They were the size of footballs for fuck sake! Literal footballs. Not to mention the size of my new feet. Everything about this form was just massive.

I probably could’ve stood in front of that mirror for hours just staring at myself. However I was snapped out of my self absorbed grope-fest when I heard the sound of the front door shutting and a voice calling out for me. Eric’s girlfriend, who’s name was Alina according to my new memories, had just returned from her morning run. After hearing her voice I glanced at the two potion vials I’d summoned. They sat on the counter beside the sink, the liquid within them gleaming with magic. One of them glowed with a dark green hue while the other one shimmered in a bright blue. I swiped them both up before calling out to her that I’d be down in a minute.

Next thing I know I’m doing another closet raid as I’m searching for some of Eric’s clothes to throw on. You wouldn’t believe the sheer amount of gym clothes this man owned. I mean it made sense but still. In the end I slipped on a pair of violet shorts and a black tank top as he normally would, both huge in size yet fit my body snuggly. The shorts hugged my thighs and ass tightly while the tank top struggled to cover my thick pecs.

I made my way downstairs where Alina greeted me, asking if I was ready to head to the gym in a bit. “Absolutely!” I replied with Eric’s natural charisma before offering if she wanted to have some of the smoothie I was gonna make first. I had to hide a devious smirk as she accepted. It didn’t take long for me to whip up a healthy smoothie just as Eric would before dividing it between two glasses. Then, when Alina wasn’t looking, I pulled out the blue potion vial before pouring it into her glass. I watched with a mischievous glint in my eye as the sparkling blue liquid swirled into the healthy beverage.

The two of us gave a cheers, clinking our drinks together before downing them. I finished just quick enough to watch the last of it slide down her throat. I couldn’t help but get excited in anticipation for what was to come.

Alina set down her glass and looked up at me with a scrunched up expression. “Did… did you put something different in this?” She asked while flicking her tongue.

“Oh it’s just a little something to help bring out a… how shall I say… better version of yourself I suppose.” I managed to keep up Eric’s innocent charm at the moment.

My cryptic wording was lost on her however as Alina began to feel a bubbling sensation growing deep inside. Her body began to heat up rapidly as the magical energy began to flood through her very being. The athletic young woman doubled over in a mix of pain and discomfort as suddenly her body started to change dramatically.

Her breasts were the first to go, deflating until her chest was flat. Her nipples followed suit, becoming far less pronounced under her loosened sports bra. From there her body began to negate its own feminine features as her waist grew wider and her hips narrowed. Her ass rose up slightly as her joints repositioned themselves among other things all happening at once to give her body a much more masculine shape. The features on her face grew sharper as her hair began to shorten. By this point she’d begun to look less like a woman and more like a twunk college boy. But the changes were far from over.

Alina gasped as her height suddenly shot from 5’7 up to 6’1, not noticing the deeper tone in her voice. Her clothes had begun to tear but the first to give way was her sneakers. Two large manly feet burst out of them, wriggling a little as they soon tore through her socks as well to reveal the little hairs growing over them. Her hands followed that example as they swiftly grew less dainty and more meaty. It wasn’t long Alina had thick digits for fingers while wisps of hair spread their way across the back of her hands.

By now a hungry expression was plastered across my face as her body started to pump itself bigger. Every muscle in Alina’s body pulsed with strength and size as her clothes continued to rip. Her chest rapidly grew bigger once again but this time with thick, powerful muscle. Her body continued to widen as it filled out. Bulging arms, thick legs, powerful pecs. By now her feminine figure was all but gone, replaced by a beefy masculine frame that soon burst out of the clothes that’d been struggling to keep her covered, leaving her nude as could be.

The transformation wasn’t finished with her face yet either. Stubble began to spread across what was once a smooth jaw. All the while her features continued to grow as her eyes deepened and her nose broadened. Any resemblance to the woman she once was had all but vanished. Instead he now adorned the ruggedly handsome face of a muscular man in his late 20’s. And within moments that stubble he had l continued to grow into a thick full beard that framed his new face perfectly.

The final changes were settling in at last with a generous layer of body hair spreading across his chest, stomach, arms, legs and even ass. He’d gone from a smooth skinned princess to a furry barbarian!! However Alina and myself were far too focused on what was going on between his legs to take much notice of that at the moment.

He groaned in a much deeper baritone, mouth agape and face twitching as his dripping pussy began to push out a small mushroom tip. It didn’t take long for that tip to grow and thicken with an elongating shaft until finally Alina had a giant 8 inch cock bouncing fully erect between his legs. Just before his vagina could finish sealing up though, a fat pair of cum filled balls slipped out and hung comfortably between his thick hairy thighs.

Of course I couldn’t help but scan this new man’s body with a sense of pride. And while I admired my handy-work, Alina’s mind underwent some needed changes. You see drinking that potion didn’t just alter his body, but also the reality around us. Every memory he ever had of being a woman was quickly being drained and replaced with the life of a gay man (same went for anyone else that knew him before). And as the last of Alina was squeezed out, Aaron’s eyes went wide before his pulsing new dick erupted its first load, ejecting his former life in the process. Permanently.

It seemed Aaron’s first nut stacked on top of his intense transformation took a lot out of him. His balance started to look wobbly before his legs buckled completely. I jumped forwards just in time to catch him in my bulky arms as he fell unconscious. I placed one arm under his legs and one on his back before picking him up with ease, reminding me just how powerful this new body is. I carried Aaron into the living room with heavy footsteps. He grumbled a little as I placed him gently on the couch. With that I finally had a chance to observe the masterpiece I had created. Sure he wasn’t quite as huge as me but he still had some impressive muscle. And seeing all that body hair was making me want to grow out some fur in Eric’s body as well just to see how it’d look.

I ran a hand across his chest, feeling his fuzzy pecs rise with each breath. Soon lowering down to his furry stomach where a few splashes of cum resided. I wiped some up on my finger before bringing it towards my lips. Without a second of hesitation I stuffed the finger straight in my mouth and sucked it clean, savouring the taste of the new man’s cum.

It wasn’t uncommon for some people to faint like this after such a dramatic transformation. From past experience I knew Aaron would be waking up in about 10 minutes or so which gave me more than enough time to make one last magical change. I pulled the other remaining vial out of my pocket. I admired the glimmering green solution inside before popping the lid off and necking the entire thing at once. Unlike the permanent potion I’d given to Aaron, this one was only temporary and would last exactly a week.

The effects started to kick in almost immediately. A wave of relaxation washed over me, putting me right at ease as my mind started to fog up. For every second that passed my impressively high IQ dropped a couple points. Gradually I could feel myself getting dumber and dumber. I knew my intelligence was only being locked away but it felt as though it were being squeezed right out of me. Strangely enough… It kinda felt good. Letting all of that intelligence wash away was weirdly soothing. Like I was floating on a cloud. Soon after, my whopping 210 IQ had managed to drop all the way down to about 65, my mouth agape as a dumb haze settled over me. Not a single intelligent thought running through my head and it would stay that way for the next week.

Not long after this, Aaron’s eyes fluttered open. Looking down he saw the hairy muscular body he now owned. Yet didn’t think anything of it as if it were a sight he’d seen everyday. Instead he turned his head to see me, his boyfriend, chuckling to myself like a complete idiot as I worshiped my huge bod.

“Huhuhuhuh… sooo fuckin big dude…” I muttered as I heaved and groped at my giant pecs, bouncing them obsessively.

Aaron sat up slightly as he raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Babe? What’re you doing?… and why am I naked on the couch?”

Noticing my boyfriend had finally come around, I looked over at him. My expression was slow and dumb at first before turning to a smile. “Duhhhhh… Sorry, got caught up admiring my body bro. Can you blame me? Huhuhuh.” I immediately flexed my arms again in an effort to show off the only thing about me that was still impressive. Aaron only rolled his eyes. “And I think you said something about taking a nap before the gym. Can’t remember bro. We should totallyyyy go now though.”

Aaron couldn’t quite recall going for a nap but he brushed it off before getting up. “You know I find it weird when you call me ‘bro’. I’m your boyfriend Eric.”

I simply laughed it off. “Guess the word is just stuck in my… uhmm… vocabulary.” I really had to rack my mind for that last word. “Whatever babe just hurry up and get dressed! I’m itching to get a pump on!”

“Okay, okay I’m going.” Aaron abided, amused by my eagerness. Of course I couldn’t help but watch the way his furry ass moved as he approached the stairs. I was damn eager to get a piece of that tonight.

———

When the two of us first set foot in the gym, I took a long deep breath. The smell of sweat, tears and hard work filling the air and I absolutely loved it! I felt weirdly at home. Ever since I drank that potion, my mind might’ve dulled but my desire to lift weights and get huge had never been so potent. It was pretty much all I could think about until we got here. Well that and the occasional thought of Aaron choking on my dick and swallowing my load. And vice versa.

My new desire coupled up with Eric’s vast knowledge of the gym and working out made for the perfect meathead combo. Before long I found myself hitting Eric’s back workout and lemme tell you it hurt like hell. And yet the pain brought me a weird sense of joy and accomplishment to the point where I wouldn’t stop until my body couldn’t go any further. I pushed my physical limits more than I ever thought I could. Certainly more than any other form I’d inhabited wouldve been able to. And the pump after each exercise was nothing short of addicting. My mind soloing in on the workout like nothing else in the world mattered. And to me, it didn’t. Nothing was more important than getting huge and swole. There wasn’t much else going on up in that empty head of mine anyways.

Of course Aaron was there through it all, getting his own sets in between my own as I shouted words of encouragement to push him to his limits. We might’ve been boyfriends but I certainly acted way more like his coach and gym bro at the time.

Once everything was said and done, it felt fucking fantastic! My back might’ve been on fire after that hellish workout yet I don’t think I’d ever felt more alive! Besides when I originally took the body and form of Mr Wavell of course. I felt so incredible in fact that I convinced Aaron to film me flexing. I made the excuse that it was for my socials but really I just wanted an excuse to toss my tank top aside and show off like dumb himbo I was.

Aaron took my phone and began recording. “Let’s see it.” He stated as I got ready. “What we got? What we got?” With that I went up into the classic double bicep pose, showing off not only the colossal size of arms but the wideness of my upper body. After that I proceeded to go through a series of poses like it was natural. “Let’s see that back!” Aaron said from behind the camera as I turned around. “Fuck yeah.” I knew he was enjoying seeing me flex my impressive form. I mean who wouldn't, right? I’m a fucking BEAST bro! Not to mention he got to be the lucky dude who heads home with me at the end of the day. Finally I gave my back a good flex, holding it for a moment as Aaron tried not to get distracted by my thick ass.

Feeling satisfied, I eventually relaxed and took my phone back. We grabbed the rest of our stuff before heading out of the gym, protein shakes in hand.

———

Let me tell you that my first night with Aaron out of this world. Once we got home, the two of us were incredibly horny. We’d even started making out and rubbing our boners together but we still had work to finish today so we agreed to get it all done first so then we’d have plenty of time to ourselves after. Hence we got right to it. I had a few online meetings with clients Eric had been training, talking with them about their exercise and diet plans like an expert. Right now fitness was the one area that I still felt intelligent in. Can’t say the same for all the complicated money and business shit I had to get Aaron to help me with afterwards though.

But once all was said and done, Aaron and I found ourselves falling into bed, wrapped in each overs arms. Me enjoying and admiring his furry body while he grabbed and worshipped my hefty muscle. Before long the two of us were lost in each other's scent, taking turns diving into the other’s armpits and taking in the sweaty aroma that we both adored. Shortly after, Aaron took it upon himself to jump on top of me 69 style. Swallowing my dick as he plunged his own into my mouth. It wasn’t until I started to taste the pre-cum drooling that he finally pulled away.

In all honesty I’d been planning to pound him first but the way he commanded me to flip onto my stomach so he could start eating my ass sent shivers through me. The way he dove his tongue inside my hole before finally lubing up his 8-incher and pressing it between my muscular bubble ass… Fuck. I couldn’t think of anything but cock up until the second he slid inside me. He made sure to push deep and slow, pressing against my prostate just right in a way that had me seeing stars. For someone who didn’t have a dick when they woke up this morning, Aaron certainly knew how to dominate me with it. He wouldn’t let me go until he’d blasted his load inside. All the while reaching around and groping my pecs greedily while I groaned like the dumb horny beast I was.

After that of course it was my turn and that furry ass felt just as good as I’d hoped. It took my full length without a problem, welcoming it even. At this point I was starting to get a tad jealous. Not only was his dick slightly bigger but his ass took cock better than mine as well, even if my ass was thicker. That potion certainly did wonders for his body, I’ll give him that. Regardless I gave it my all, using my superior strength and size to move him into whatever position I wanted until we ended up with him on his back, legs over my shoulders as I thrusted inside. Getting to see that handsome face make all sorts of lust-fuelled expressions only drove me crazier. I couldn’t help but lean down to kiss him between thrusts.

At long last the house echoed with our combined moans as I finally busted inside my boyfriend, flooding him with Eric’s thick potent seed. The primal desire to breed what belonged to me was satisfied, quickly replaced by a desire to simply cuddle and fall asleep in each other's arms. It was… nice.

———

Over the following week I proceeded to blissfully float through the life of Eric Janicki. Half the time I felt dumb as a brick, especially when Aaron and other people started talking about complicated shit I didn’t understand. Weirdly enough though, I think Aaron liked it. He loved having a big dumb meathead of a boyfriend who was almost all muscle and no brains.

At this point there was really only one thing I excelled at and that was getting huge! The gym, eating right and keeping in shape were always some of the top things on my mind. Waking up every morning just itching to get on with my day so I could start lifting weights and pushing myself. And that’s exactly what I did. I was in the gym almost everyday and during that time I would completely zone in. Nothing else around me mattered. The only things that existed were the intense pump and the drive push beyond my limits.

Of course despite my determination, Aaron and I still had plenty of fun with our time at the gym. I told him to get a video of me crushing a few sets for my Instagram but as I was resting he got a little cheeky and just started filming my bubble ass instead. When I noticed I couldn’t help but laugh and shake my butt around a little for him. With my shorts looking as though they were painted on, it made for quite the sight. I could already see the amount of likes and saves that video was gonna get.

When I got a look at the video afterwards, even I started to get a boner looking at my own bubble butt moving like that. No wonder Aaron had to adjust his bulge while recording.

I became so absorbed into this bodybuilder himbo lifestyle that by about the third or fourth day I’d almost completely forgotten about who I was before all this. My mind was so fogged over in this dumb meathead haze that anything not pertaining to either my new love life or getting jacked was simply pushed aside with the exception of growing Eric’s social media following and training clients. The idea of being an all powerful warlock capable of reality bending feats was slowly becoming a distant memory buried under a mind numbing sea. And I completely gave into it. I let this new persona of mine takeover completely. I gave in to the muscle. To the pump. To the life of an incredibly handsome gym obsessed muscle beast with a just handsome boyfriend to boot…

That is until one morning while I was in the steam shower humming away to myself. I was just getting ready to turn it off when suddenly I felt as though I’d been smacked over the head. And just like that my eyes went wide as the fog covering my mind began to lift. My intelligence that’d been locked away for the past week quickly returned to me. I blinked a few times, finally I was able to think clearly again after taking that potion.

I stepped out of the steam shower a couple minutes later, looking in the mirror at myself. It’s a damn good thing that potion had a time limit because if not I would’ve certainly lost myself in this life and done irreparable damage by staying in Eric’s body too long. But alas everything went how I planned. Unfortunately that meant it was now time for me to say goodbye to this body and its reflection. I’ve got to say that it was by far the most interesting out of the three lives I’ve lived. Allowing myself to sink into that stereotypical gymbro type lifestyle is something I’m never going to forget and I’ll most certainly have to try again someday. But with that I gave my arms one last flex, my pecs a final bounce and my cock one last tug before I headed towards the bedroom to begin the de-possession process.

Just like last time I decided to exit the same way I entered. Eric’s body began to convulse slightly, his muscles jiggling while my ghostly form started to relinquish its control. Before long Eric’s hole stretched open for me and did so much easier than when I first entered (probably due to me taking Aaron’s load pretty much every night). And as expected Eric’s cock started to firm up as I brushed against his prostate on the way out, eventually causing his knees to buckle before falling onto all fours. A very similar scene to when I first took over Jake’s body the week prior.

The sheer ecstasy overtook Eric as he let his face fall to the floor and his arms to collapse at his sides, letting out a long deep and needy moan while keeping his huge ass up in the air. The sound must’ve caught Aaron’s attention from downstairs as he soon walked in to see Eric displaying his ass just as the last of my ghostly form slurped out of his hole, completely invisible. Aaron didn’t know how to react as he watched his bulky boyfriend suddenly shoot his load all over the bedroom carpet.

The real Eric came to his senses shortly after. I couldn’t help but laugh as I watched on, still invisible to them both as Eric tried to explain himself to Aaron. You see I took a few creative liberties with Eric’s mind as I left. It had already adjusted to fit the new reality with Aaron alongside everyone else, altering his memories and what not. In turn I made Eric completely and utterly gay from now onwards. He’ll have never remembered ever being straight in his life. Only ever being a huge gay meathead that loves taking cock up his big muscle ass. And like with Jake I also gave him some pseudo-memories of the last week to go along with it. With that my handy-work was done. Or so I thought…

You see, I decided to hang around Eric and Aaron for a few extra hours before leaving. After the whole scene that Aaron walked in on, I wasn’t surprised to see the two of them jump into bed, Aaron pounding away at Eric in a horny frenzy. After which though, when the couple had gotten back to their regular day, I noticed something different about Eric. He was… well… dumber! Far more so than before I first possessed him. He must’ve been acting similarly to how I had been while under the influence of that potion. My only guess is that it seems to have had some strange side effects. Perhaps due to having both myself and Eric‘s soul in that body simultaneously when under its influence. Its effects may have worn off on me but for some reason or another they’d stuck with Eric!

I could’ve removed it myself in all honesty. Brought his IQ back up to what it was before. But nah this was even more fun so I decided to leave things as they were for now and enjoy the show. Honestly I just couldn’t believe that was how I’d been acting for the past week. It cracked me up to think about but it made me kinda horny at the same time. Once I was done admiring however, I eventually decided to head home.

———

In a cloud of purple magic I teleported back into my mansion. It definitely felt good to be home. I allowed my ghostly form to become physical once again before stretching my arms and back. Now I could sit back and relax for a day or two before heading out and getting up to my usual shenanigans again. I’ve gotta say though, living in such a huge mansion in a separate pocket dimension does get a bit lonely from time to time. Maybe I should get an apprentice to teach some of my tricks at some point. Or maybe something more…

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Not a request but imagine Viktor debating whether or not to augment his dick because on one hand fun sexy times and on the other it's his dick shit can go wrong and he doesn't want to affect his fertility if he decides he does want kids

You know, as a fandom, I feel like we don't discuss the dick situation as much as we should... like, I've given my opinion on what's up with the Arcane Herald Penis Predicament (go read more on that in my one-shot The Prophet spoke, and the faithful knelt 👀), but I can't imagine the Machine Herald Cock Conundrum is the exact same...

Here is my hypothesis:

So, Machine Herald replaces the parts of his body that he considers weaknesses or that could be augmented with technology and machinery.

Dick and balls are pretty inconvenient from a technical standpoint, they're an easy target to incapacitate someone in a fight ((fun fact, some animals actually know this and will attack the face or the genitalia of other animals/humans to inflict the most damage)). Plus, they are a strong testament to how much the human body is controlled by emotions and impulses, so it wouldn't be that far-fetched to assume MH!Viktor would have gotten rid of them.

HOWEVER

I believe that this theory would be missing an important aspect of MH!Viktor's philosophy and identity. What he craves is an evolution of the human species through the removal of weaknesses of the flesh, such as illness. And evolution REQUIRES the continued existence of a species through time, which means reproduction is still a key aspect in his vision. It would be counterproductive for him to want to get rid of reproductive organs: they're an essential part of making sure a long-term evolution is even possible.

Additionally, MH!Viktor has been shown through various parts of his lore to be exceptionally caring about children. In that same vein, season 1 Viktor often brings back the concept of having a personal legacy...

Considering both of these factors, I'd say that, yes, MH!Viktor still has his human penis. BUT, he would also definitely get rid of the flaws I mentioned earlier.

For example, he would likely be able to at least partially regulate blood flow to his cock, in order to be in control of his own bodily reactions (ie., when he wants to be hard or not). He would also probably add some sort of protective cover or coating over it, with a flexible but resistant material that would prevent genitalia from being used as a weak spot. Almost like a permanent, metal cocksleeve.

If he was to gain a lover along the way, perhaps the sleeve could be tweaked a little, to add some bonus features. A length enhancer, or some bumpy ridges... the possibilities are truly endless. But it would all be solely for the purpose of his goal, of course, not for something as trivial as pleasure. A lot of research seems to correlate female orgasm to higher chances of pregnancy; he's only doing what has to be done to strengthen the future of the Glorious Evolution. Any additional physical enjoyment is merely a side effect, nothing more.

IN CONCLUSION, according to my professional, scientific opinion, I believe MH!Viktor would keep his human penis, but remove all its conceptual weaknesses with technology. There is simply no version of Viktor in the multiverse that doesn't make use of his big, fat cock, and that's just the way things are 😌.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monsters Reimagined: Yeenoghu, Demon Lord of Insatiable Hunger

It's been some years since I did my overhaul on the lore of the gnolls and how they embody the weird de/humanization that goes on with various monsters over d&d's history. Ever since I've had more than a few folks write in asking about how I would handle the default Gnoll God Yeenoghu, who exists in a similar state of "Kill everything that ever existed" to Orcus and a good portion of the game's other late game threats, thematically flat and not really useful for building stories around.

For a while I've avoided doing this post because I thought it might skew a little too close to my personal philosophy, and risk going from simply being influenced by my views to an outright soapbox. I personally hold that despite being part of our nature hunger is the source of the majority of human cruelty, and if society and cooperation are the tools we developed to best fight against the threat of famine, it is fear of that famine that allows the powerful to control society and secure their positions of privilege.

I've also dealt with disordered eating in a prior period of my life, alternating between neglecting my body's needs and punishing myself for needing in the first place. I'm well acquainted with hunger and the hollowing effect it can have, though I'd never claim to know it so well as someone who went hungry by anything other than choice and self hatred.

Learning to love food again saved saved my life. The joy of eating, of feeling whole and nourished, yes, but there was also the joy of making: of experimenting, improving, providing, being connected to a great tradition of cultivation which has guided our entire species.

If I was going to talk about an evil god of hunger, I was going to have to touch on all of that, and now that it's out in the open I can continue with a more thematic and narrative discussion on the beast of butchery below the cut.

What's wrong: Going by the default lore, there's not much that really separates Yeenoghu from any other chaotic evil mega-boss. He wants to kill everything in vicious ways, and encourages his followers to do the same. He's there so that the evil clerics can have someone to pray to because the objectively good gods are on the party's side and wouldn't help a bunch of cannibalistic slavers.

This is boring, we've done this song and dance before, and the only reason that there are so many demon lords/evil gods/archdevils like this is because the bioessentialism baked into the older editions of the game's lore was also a theological essentialism, and that every group had to have their own gods which perfectly embodied their ethos and there was no crossover whatsoever, themes be damned.

Normally I'd do a whole section about "what can be salvaged" from an old concept, but we're scraping the bottom of the barrel right from the inset. Likewise my trick of combining multiple bits of underwritten d&d mythology to make a sturdier concept isn't going to work as most of d&d's other gods of hunger or famine are similar levels of paper thin.

How do we fix it: I want Yeenoghu to be the opposite of the path I found myself on, a hunger so great and so painful that it percludes happiness, cooperation, or even rational thought. Hunger not as a sumptuous hedonistic gluttony but a hollowing emptiness that compels violence and desperation. More than just psychopathic slaughter and gore, it is becalmed sailors drinking seawater to quench their thirst, the urban poor mixing sawdust and plaster into their food because their wages are not enough to afford grain.

This is where we get the idea of Yeenoghu as an enemy of society, not because violence is antithical to society ( I think we've learned by now how structured violence can really be) but because society fundamentally breaks down when it can't take care of the people who provide its foundations. Contrast the Beast of Butchery with one of my other favourite villainous famine spirits: Caracalla the grim trader, who embodies scarcity as a form of profit and control in to Yeenoghu's scarcity as suffering.

Into this we can also add the idea of the hungry dead, ghouls yes but also vampires, anything cursed with an eternal existence and appetites it no longer has the ability to sate. A large number of cultures across the world share the idea that the dead cannot rest while they are starving, which is why we leave offerings of food by their graves or pour out a glass to the ones we lost along the way.

On that topic, there's also a scrap of lore involving Doresain god of ghouls, who has been depicted as an on and off servant of Yeenoghu. Since I'm already remaking the mythology, I'd have Doresain act as a sort of saint or herald for the demon lord, the wicked but still partially reasonable entity who can villain monolog before the feral and all consuming demon god shows up.

Summing it all up: Yeenoghu isn't a demon you wittingly worship, it's a demon that claims you, marks you as its mouthpiece and through you seeks to consume more of the world. It gives you just enough strength to keep on living, keep on suffering, keep on filling that hole in your belly and feed it in turn.

The greatest of these mouthpieces is Doresain, an elf of ancient times who's unearthly hungers elevated him to demigod status. Known as the knawbone king, he dwells within a dread domain of the shadowfell, and is sought out only for his ability to intercede with the maw-fiend's rampages.

Signs: Unnaturally persistent hunger pangs, excessive drool and gurgling stomach noises, the growth of extra teeth in the mouth, stomachs splitting open into mouths.

Symbols: An animal with three jaws, a three tailed flail or spiked whip. A crown of knawed bones (Doresain)

Titles: Beast of butchery, the maw fiend, the knawing god

Artist

[ozzgin]

Hello, i’m back 😁.

I’m finaly going to ask you the 3 part of Yautja female reader raised on earth.

So reader had her first heat and she spend it with her yautja male. And suprise !!!! She’s pregnant !

Her mate want to take her to their home planet but reader becomes agressive when he tried and they all know the rule : you don’t fuck with pregnant yautja. No seriously, never do that.

And so the male see the way her family is really happy about this news and they help reader with her pregnancy and they fully support her. Which is suprising for our male yautja because usualy pregnant females yautja go on their pregnancy alone. And if you feel up for it, could you write about active labour : reader is having contractions for hours, she wants support and her mate ( males aren’t suppose to ne here for the labor ) and then the baby is here and everyone love this little buttle of joy.

Hope you have time for this resquest and thanks for reading this, bye.

Welcome back! The third part of the Predator saga has been requested by @avaleigh16 as well, so I’m tagging you as promised! :) Each Predator is written under the assumption that you’ve picked them as a partner with perhaps a little bit of reaction from the other suitors. Sorry for the delay!

Various Predators x Predator! Reader Headcanons: Mating

Featuring the four Predator types and their independent story if you’ve accepted them as your mate. Dealing with pregnancy and birth.

Part 1: Meeting

Part 2: Courting

Part 3: Mating

After a long and exhausting courting process from all these unexpected suitors, you’ve made your decision and chose your mate. Not only that, but consuming the new relationship has left you visibly pregnant. And the father is none other than…

Feral Predator

What a bizarre choice in the eyes of the other suitors. You’ve picked the foreigner of unknown origins, from the deserted plains of the opposing hemisphere. Two different Yautja species meeting and mating. What would the outcome be? Neither the Feral Predator nor you care much about genetics. He is much more interested in planning his new family unit, except you’re not as enthusiastic about leaving your caregivers behind. Surely you can’t expect to raise your children with these frail humans. They have no skill nor value to pass on to your offspring and there are no biological ties holding you back. He notices your increased aggression and would rather not press the matters further and compromise your health, at least for now. And while he is baffled by the strange customs of assisting you throughout your pregnancy, he can’t deny the enjoyment of being included. To your surprise, in your moments of required bed rest, you spot Feral Predator continuing your household tasks for the humans. He doesn’t agree with your choices, but he will respect them nevertheless. If the humans are this important to you, he can make the effort to tolerate them.

Elite Predator

Being on this pathetic planet hasn’t eroded your common sense it seems. You’ve made the right choice. All that’s left is returning to Yautja Prime, preferably before you have to carry a needy newborn around. His patience is running thin upon hearing your obstinate refusals. What could it be this time? Pregnancy hormones? Alas, he’d rather not fight you in this feral state. It’s not optimal, but right now there’s little room for protest. If you so desire, you can have your final stay with the little creatures. Although he’s not happy at all to witness them flocking to your aid whenever something is required. You can spot the Elite Predator sulking from a distance, following his part in the tradition and giving you space. His frown, however, only lasts until the first contractions. The small earthly creatures demand his presence. It is not commonly done, but then again, can he really miss the opportunity of attending the birth of his own offspring? It’s a comical sight, his tall frame towering over the gathered family, and you can’t help but chuckle between the labored breaths. You’ll deal with his moods later.

Fugitive Bad Blood

The Fugitive knew that despite all the disapproving eyes, you’d still pick him as your partner. You have the blood of your parents running through your veins. For how long were you planning on avoiding your nature, your very fate? Thankfully you’ve come to your senses, though he might need to shake the remaining doubt off of you with his own hands. Your attachment to these life forms is frankly annoying and he doesn’t mind making the choices for you. In fact, there’s no decision to make if you only have one option. He has already proven to you that anyone else besides him is a superfluous existence. He is your guarantee to survival and anything else your heart might desire. You have managed to keep him away from your family with distant promises of compliance once the suckling is here. As you approach the moment of birth, you can sense his excitement and anticipation. The tension is the air is thick, almost suffocating. You don’t doubt his loyalty to you. If only you could use it for the safety of your earthly parents instead.

Berserker

You choosing him as your partner was the best for everyone, really. He would’ve had no trouble hunting down his competition. You soon find out just how possessive and territorial the Berserker is when not even your family can approach you. Perhaps the pregnancy has caused him to be extra careful. Not only are you his mate, but the mother of his future sucklings, so he’s not taking any risks of a foreign presence outside his own. After all, why would you need anyone else but him? You can feel anger knotting inside your stomach, but fighting against the Berserker is not the wisest move. Even though he wouldn’t recklessly jeopardize his lineage. Most likely. Probably. You will have to do something soon, because he has expressed his intentions to leave this planet as soon as the birth happens. Naturally you’ll join him. There’s a long life ahead and he’s determined to keep you with him. Just what have you gotten yourself into?

[insipid-drivel]

Warhorses: Which horses are actually good candidates, anyway?

This post is in honor of @warrioreowynofrohan, who asked the question in the comments under my guide, "Horses: Since There Seems To Be A Knowledge Gap". Their question, "Given what you said about too much weight breaking a horse’s spine, how did that work with knights in plate armour?" is one I'm going to try to answer here, since the answer can be very nuanced depending on where and when you're talking about.

Also, while I was a stable hand for years as well as a rider, I never had the opportunity to directly learn more ancient styles of tacking, horse training, and combat, so I don't have any direct experience to draw from with regard to horses used for military purposes. I'm still gonna do my best here with what I know, and research what I don't.

As I've covered in the past, large horses (draft horses) make less-than-ideal warhorses, and so do carriage horses like the elegant and dramatic Friesians.

Let's begin by addressing this from the perspective of creative writing. For you writers and content creators out there, an essential part to the continuity of any historically-themed work you do involving horses will be depicting breeds of horses that didn't exist before a certain time in history. I'm going to approach this question from the stance of, "Medieval-type era warhorses". Horses were used in warfare as late was World War II, but actual horses you ride into battle with knights and archers and bannermen? We actually have to drop the subject of specific modern breeds altogether aside from using them for comparisons.

When discussing warhorses, various cultures have approached them differently. Some cultures will value a specific type of horse above all others, such as the Mongolian Steppe Horse or the American Mustang. Other cultures, which may be from biomes and territories where multiple types of horses are needed for different forms of warfare and tactics, value whichever horses can get their jobs done without their riders getting killed.

Carrying vs. Pulling:

Horses have been used in warfare since as far back as 4000 BC, but their first applications were more as chariot horses. Humans have been riding and working with horses since before we even had stirrups to more easily ride them with! As archaeologists and anthropologists make more discoveries, the more we learn that we humans have been working closely with horses since before we had specialized tools to ride them with. The very first warhorses pulled chariots or carts, which is much easier for a horse's anatomy to handle compared to carrying a heavy weight like an armored rider on their backs, which puts stress directly on their spines where they have very little supporting muscle for supporting a lot of heavy downward weight.

Warhorse Size Categories:

Really, any breed of horse can apply to a niche in warfare if it's needed enough. Even very small, delicate horses have had their place in the history of human combat! Before I continue, it's important to know that there's a unique unit of measuring a horse's height. Rather than measuring a horse's height in centimeters or inches, they're measured in units called "hands". A single "hand" = ~4 inches/10.16cm, and a horse's height is measured based upon the distance between the bottom of their hoof to the tallest part of their shoulders, just at the base of the back of their necks. We don't actually include neck length/head height in a horse's measurements with traditional measuring.

Another rule of thumb: The average horse cannot safely carry anything heavier than about 30% of their total body weight. This is a serious factor to take into mind when deciding on a type of or breed of horse for a mounted warrior of any kind: You need to factor in the OC's starting body weight, and then add on the weight of armor, weapons, and any armor the horse itself may wear along with the weight of its tack.

Light-Weight Horses:

A few examples of lightweight horse breeds whose ancestors have historically been used in combat are Arabians, Barber Horses, and the magnificent Akhal-Teke. Lightweight and delicately-boned horses like those are best applied for military maneuvers that require precision, speed, and endurance, and the rider themselves should specialize in some form of combat or reconnaissance that doesn't require them to wear heavy metal or laminated armors. Archers are good candidates for riding smaller horses, or lightly-armored swordsmen like an Ottoman Janissary.

Central-Asian and North African horses also benefit from having a higher tolerance for hot climates. They can absolutely suffer from heatstroke and cardiac arrest from being forced to run and work in extreme temperatures and should always be provided with the same protective measures in a heatwave as any other horse, but they have a little bit of an edge over horses descended from freezing and temperate climates.

Medium-Weight Horses:

Medium-weight horses started showing up in the archaeological record around about the Iron Age, where chariot warfare was becoming an increasingly utilized form of mobile combat, and people needed bigger, stronger horses capable of pulling heavier loads - such as a chariot with two passengers rather than just one. As cultures began to develop heavier-duty armors made of metals and laminated materials, it also became important to breed horses that were tall and stocky (muscular and with relatively short spines compared to their height), and therefore more capable of carrying riders in increasingly heavy armor. Medium-weight horses were also essential at the dawn of the gunpowder age when the cannon came into use in siege warfare for pulling the heavy, iron cannons into position.

Medium-weight horses are really where we see the beginnings of knights and other warrior classes on horseback come into the forefront of warfare. When you have a horse that's big and strong enough to carry heavier armor and heavier weapons along with a rider wielding them, you have a much deadlier force at your disposal. Strikes from a sword or spear from the back of a galloping horse basically results in a sword capable of cutting through enemy soldiers like a hot knife through butter.

Important Note: Traditionally, cavalrymen wield blunt swords when attacking from a charging horse's back. When a horse is charging at full speed, the sharpness of a blade becomes less important than the blade's ability to stay in one piece when it impacts hard armor and bone. A blunted edge basically turns a cavalryman's sword into a thin club that's better at holding up against smashing through multiple layers of armor and bone compared to a thinner, more delicate sharpened edge that can shatter from a high-speed impact.

Heavy-Weight Horses:

The direct ancestors of modern draft horses, such as the Shire Horse, only began to appear around about the beginning of the European Medieval Era, and were far and away not even close to the enormous sizes of the draft horses we have today. Any horse counts as a "Heavy-weight" classed horse if its weight exceeds 1500lbs/680kgs.

Heavy-weight horses were really more bred for pulling enormous weights rather than carrying knights. While yeah, there is some evidence that suggests that heavy-weight horses were used by heavily-armored knights, historians argue a lot about whether it was a rule or an exception (such as with Henry VIII, who continued to ride well after he had begun to weigh more than 350lbs/158kgs, and even went to war in France in his final years on horseback). Generally speaking, medium-weight horses tend to be the right balance of agile and strong for carrying someone that's going to actively be fighting. Heavy-weight horses were bred to be a lot more tolerant to the chaos and frightening stimulation of the sounds of battle, but medium-weighted horses generally tended to be more suited to moving efficiently through dense packs of soldiers and weaving around other horses.

Ponies:

While actually being the smallest class of warhorse, ponies were essential when it came to carrying cargo and working as pack-horses. In certain forms of terrain, such as mountains, large horses pulling big carts full of supplies or soldiers could often be extremely impractical. In situations where an army needed to move on foot and form a narrow line in order to travel, ponies were able to traverse much narrower and rougher terrain while carrying smaller loads to their destination, when heavier horses would struggle more under their own weight and dexterity.

Europe-Specific Terminologies:

If you're a writer reading this and writing a piece set in the European Medieval age, there are specific terms used for the different classes I listed of warhorses above that I'm gonna list:

Destriers: The Destrier was a universal term for the iconic knight-carrying, jousting horse. They were also sometimes referred to as "Great Horses" due to their reputations in combat settings. Destriers could have just about any appearance, but were rarely taller than 15.2 hands, or 62inches/157cm. They were capable of carrying heavily-armored knights (although knights in full plate mail rarely rode into battle and stayed on the horse the entire time - they tended to specialize at grouping up and killing a lot of footsoldiers swarming them at once and preventing breaks in defenses from being overwhelmed by an oncoming army; in the case of Edward the Black Prince, we have substantial evidence in the form of his surviving brigandine that a mounted soldier or knight was more likely to wear chainmail and brigandine with a tabard on their body with their arms, feet, and heads the most heavily armored in plate when they intended to fight on horseback, making them a little lighter and more maneuverable, but I may be waaay off base there because I'm thinking of more of Italian soldiers who used full plate and how they applied it in battle more than any other example) and wearing armor themselves.

Interestingly, the sex of a destrier was often chosen strategically. Stallions (horses that haven't been neutered) are more aggressive, and could both act as combatants on their own if their knight was dismounted or killed, but could give away an army's location if they were attempting to move stealthily. Stallions whinny and shriek a lot when they're horny or arguing with each other, which is most of the time.

Mares were often chosen by Muslim armies for being much less vocal, and therefore much more capable of stealth. Geldings (neutered males) were the preferred mounts of the Teutonic Knights, a Catholic military group, since they couldn't be stolen and used to breed more horses for the enemy army.

Coursers:

Coursers were the most common Medieval European warhorse. It's important to remember that in Medieval Europe, most armies were almost entirely comprised of common men - serfs subject to the will of their landlords, not far removed from slaves in many ways - who couldn't afford the highly-prized and expensive Destriers. Coursers were usually a bit lighter than Destriers, but were still strong enough to carry someone wearing armor. Coursers were also a little more utilitarian, because they were also sometimes used in hunting as well as warfare, so they had a valuable use outside of warfare that the owner could benefit from.

Rouncey:

A rouncey was an all-purpose horse that could be used for leisure and travel-riding as well as be trained for war. They were a lot more likely to be found on the farm of a serf or independent farmer of some kind, as they could fill a lot of different roles depending on what they were needed for. Their sizes weren't really important as much as their ability to get the job done.

It's also critical to remember that, when talking about warhorses, we're usually talking about eras long past. In general, thanks to resource availability and incredible advances in medicine, modern humans are significantly taller, and therefore heavier, than people from the European Medieval era and prior. While fatness was valued in many cultures for its suggestion of wealth, most working-class and serf-class people worked intensely physically-demanding daily lives just to maintain their own homes. They were a few inches shorter on average than we are today, had greater fluctuations in body fat distribution depending on how harsh or bountiful the harvest season had been and the season in which a war was taking place (the average person's weight would swing by 30lbs or more on average every year prior to the industrial era), and cavalry were usually chosen based upon skill in the saddle as well as physical size when considering the application of medium or heavy armor being placed on the horse's back and body.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hi! for starters, i adore your blog! all of the tips are actually helpful, and your research is really well done! would you mind making a post about ritual sacrifice? thanks in advance!

Writing Notes: Ritual Sacrifice

Sacrifice - a religious rite in which an object is offered to a divinity in order to establish, maintain, or restore a right relationship of a human being to the sacred order. It is a complex phenomenon that has been found in the earliest known forms of worship and in all parts of the world.

A wide variety of animals have served as sacrificial offerings.

Example: In ancient Greece and India, oblations included a number of important domestic animals, such as the goat, ram, bull, ox, and horse.

In Greek religion, all edible birds, wild animals of the hunt, and fish were used.

In ancient Judaism, the kind and number of animals for the various sacrifices was carefully stipulated so that the offering might be acceptable and thus fully effective.

This sort of regulation is generally found in sacrificial cults; the offering must be appropriate either to the deity to whom or to the intention for which it is to be presented.

Very often the sacrificial species (animal or vegetable) was closely associated with the deity to whom it was offered as the deity’s symbolic representation or even its incarnation.

Thus, in the Vedic ritual the goddesses of night and morning received the milk of a black cow having a white calf;

the “bull of heaven,” Indra, was offered a bull, and

Surya, the sun god, was offered a white male goat.

Similarly, the ancient Greeks sacrificed black animals to the deities of the dark underworld;

swift horses to the sun god Helios;

pregnant sows to the earth mother Demeter; and

the dog, guardian of the dead, to Hecate, goddess of darkness.

The Syrians sacrificed fish, regarded as the lord of the sea and guardian of the realm of the dead, to the goddess Atargatis and ate the consecrated offering in a communion meal with the deity, sharing in the divine power.

An especially prominent sacrificial animal was the bull (or its counterparts, the boar and the ram), which, as the representation and embodiment of the cosmic powers of fertility, was sacrificed to numerous fertility gods (e.g., the Norse god Freyr; the Greek “bull of the earth,” Zeus Chthonios; and the Indian “bull of heaven,” Indra).

The occurrence of human sacrifice appears to have been widespread and its intentions various, ranging from communion with a god and participation in his divine life to expiation and the promotion of the earth’s fertility.

It seems to have been adopted by agricultural rather than by hunting or pastoral peoples.

Of all the worldly manifestations of the life-force, the human undoubtedly impressed men as the most valuable and thus the most potent and efficacious as an oblation.

Example: In Mexico, the belief that the sun needed human nourishment led to sacrifices in which as many as 20,000 victims perished annually in the Aztec and Nahua calendrical maize ritual in the 14th century CE.

Bloodless human sacrifices also developed and assumed greatly different forms:

a Celtic ritual involved the sacrifice of a woman by immersion, and

among the Maya in Mexico young maidens were drowned in sacred wells;

in Peru women were strangled;

in ancient China the king’s retinue was commonly buried with him, and such internments continued intermittently until the 17th century.

Bloodless Offerings. Among the many life-giving substances that have been used as libations are:

milk,

honey,

vegetable and animal oils,

beer,

wine, and

water.

Of these, the last two have been especially prominent.

Wine is the “blood of the grape” and thus the “blood of the earth,” a spiritual beverage that invigorates gods and men.

Water is always the sacred “water of life,” the primordial source of existence and the bearer of the life of plants, animals, human beings, and even the gods.

Because of its great potency, water, like blood, has been widely used in purificatory and expiatory rites to wash away defilements and restore spiritual life. It has also, along with wine, been an important offering to the dead as a revivifying force.

Divine Offerings. One further conception must be briefly mentioned:

a god himself may be sacrificed.

This notion was elaborated in many mythologies; it is fundamental in some sacrificial rituals.

In early sacrifice, the victim has something of the god in itself, but in the sacrifice of a god, the victim is identified with the god.

Examples:

At the festival of the ancient Mexican sun god Huitzilopochtli, the statue of the god, which was made from beetroot paste and kneaded in human blood and which was identified with the god, was divided into pieces, shared out among the devotees, and eaten.

In the Hindu soma ritual (related to the haoma ritual of ancient Persia), the soma plant, which is identified with the god Soma, is pressed for its intoxicating juice, which is then ritually consumed.

The Eucharist, as understood in many of the Christian churches, contains similar elements. In short, Jesus is really present in the bread and wine that are ritually offered and then consumed. According to the traditional eucharistic doctrine of Roman Catholicism, the elements of bread and wine are “transubstantiated��� into the body and blood of Christ; i.e., their whole substance is converted into the whole substance of the body and blood, although the outward appearances of the elements, their “accidents,” remain.

Sir James George Frazer, a British anthropologist and folklorist, author of The Golden Bough, saw sacrifice as originating from magical practices in which the ritual slaying of a god was performed as a means of rejuvenating the god.

The king or chief of a tribe was held to be sacred because he possessed mana, or sacred power, which assured the tribe’s well-being. When he became old and weak, his mana weakened, and the tribe was in danger of decline.

The king was thus slain and replaced with a vigorous successor.

In this way the god was slain to save him from decay and to facilitate his rejuvenation.

The old god appeared to carry away with him various weaknesses and fulfilled the role of an expiatory victim and scapegoat.

Henri Hubert and Marcel Mauss, French sociologists, concentrated their investigations on Hindu and Hebrew sacrifice, arriving at the conclusion that:

“sacrifice is a religious act which, through the consecration of a victim, modifies the condition of the moral person who accomplishes it or that of certain objects with which he is concerned.”

Like Smith, they believed that a sacrifice establishes a relationship between the realms of the sacred and the profane.

This occurs through the mediation of the ritually slain victim, which acts as a buffer between the two realms, and through participation in a sacred meal.

The rituals chosen by Hubert and Mauss for analysis, however, are not those of preliterate societies.

Another study by Mauss helped to broaden the notion of sacrifice as gift.

It was an old idea that man makes a gift to the god but expects a gift in return.

The Latin formula do ut des (“I give that you may give”) was formulated in Classical times.

In the Vedic religion, the oldest stratum of religion known to have existed in India, one of the Brahmanas (commentaries on the Vedas, or sacred hymns, that were used in ritual sacrifices) expressed the same principle: “Here is the butter; where are your gifts?”

But, according to Mauss, in giving it is not merely an object that is passed on but a part of the giver, so that a firm bond is forged.

The owner’s mana is conveyed to the object, and, when the object is given away, the new owner shares in this mana and is in the power of the giver.

The gift thus creates a bond.

Even more, however, it makes power flow both ways to connect the giver and the receiver; it invites a gift in return.

German anthropologists have emphasized the idea of culture history, in which the entire history of mankind is seen as a system of coherent and articulated phases and strata, with certain cultural phenomena appearing at specific levels of culture.

Leo Frobenius, the originator of the theory that later became known as the Kulturkreislehre, distinguished the creative or expressive phase of a culture, in which a new insight assumes its specific form, and the phase of application, in which the original significance of the new insight degenerates.

Working within this context, Adolf E. Jensen attempted to explain why men have resorted to the incomprehensible act of killing other men or animals and eating them for the glorification of a god or many gods.

Blood Sacrifice is linked not with the cultures of the hunter–gatherers but with those of the cultivators; its origin is in the ritual killing of the archaic cultivator cultures, which, in turn, is grounded in myth.

For Jensen, the early cultivators all knew the idea of a mythic primal past in which not men but Dema lived on the earth and prominent among them were the Dema-deities. The central element of the myth is the slaying of a Dema-deity, an event that inaugurated human history and gave shape to the human lot.

The Dema became men, subject to birth and death, whose self-preservation depends upon the destruction of life.

The deity became in some way associated with the realm of the dead, and, from the body of the slain deity, crop plants originated, so that the eating of the plants is an eating of the deity.

Ritual Killing, whether of animals or men, is a cultic reenactment of the mythological event.

Strictly speaking, the action is not a sacrifice because there is no offering to a god; rather, it is a way to keep alive the memory of primeval events.

Blood sacrifice as found in the later higher cultures is a persistence of the ritual killing in a degenerated form.

Because the victim is identified with the deity, later expiatory sacrifices also become intelligible: sin is an offense against the moral order established at the beginning of human history; the killing of the victim is an intensified act restoring that order.

Another interpretation of some historical interest is that of Sigmund Freud in his work Totem und Tabu (1913; Eng. trans. Totem and Taboo).

Freud’s theory was based on the assumption that the Oedipus complex is innate and universal: It is normal for a child to wish to have a sexual relationship with its mother and to will the death of its father; this is often achieved symbolically.

In the primal horde, although the sons did slay their father, they never consummated a sexual union with their mother; in fact, they set up specific taboos against such sexual relations.

According to Freud, the ritual slaughter of an animal was instituted to reenact the primeval act of parricide.

The rite, however, reflected an ambivalent attitude.

After the primal father had been slain, the sons felt some remorse for their act, and, thus, the sacrificial ritual expressed the desire not only for the death of the father but also for reconciliation and communion with him through the substitute victim.

Freud claimed that his reconstruction of the rise of sacrifice was historical, but this hardly seems probable.

Sacrificer. In general, it may be said that the one who makes sacrifices is man, either an individual or a collective group—a family, a clan, a tribe, a nation, a secret society.

Frequently, special acts must be performed by the sacrificer before and sometimes also after the sacrifice.

In the Vedic cult, the sacrificer and his wife were required to undergo an initiation (diksha) involving:

ritual bathing,

seclusion,

fasting, and

prayer,

the purpose of which was to remove them from the profane world and to purify them for contact with the sacred world.

At the termination of the sacrifice came a rite of “desacralization” (avabhrita) in which they bathed in order to remove any sacred potencies that might have attached themselves during the sacrifice.

There are sacrifices in which there are no participants other than the individual or collective sacrificer.

Usually, however, one does not venture to approach sacred things directly and alone; they are too lofty and serious a matter.

An intermediary—certain persons or groups who fulfill particular requirements or qualifications—is necessary.

In many cases, sacrificing by unauthorized persons is expressly forbidden and may be severely punished:

Example: In the book of Leviticus, Korah and his followers, who revolted against Moses and his brother Aaron and arrogated the priestly office of offering incense, were consumed by fire.

The qualified person—whether the head of a household, the old man of a tribe, the king, or the priest—acts as the appointed representative on behalf of a community.

Serious illness, drought, pestilence, epidemic, famine, and other misfortune and calamity have universally been regarded as the workings of supernatural forces.

Often they have been understood as the effects of offenses against the sacred order committed by individuals or communities, deliberately or unintentionally.

Such offenses break the relationship with the sacred order or impede the flow of divine life.

Thus, it has been considered necessary in times of crisis, individual or communal, to offer sacrifices to propitiate sacred powers and to wipe out offenses (or at least neutralize their effects) and restore the relationship.

Example: Among the Yoruba of West Africa, blood sacrifice must be made to the gods, especially the earth deities, who, as elsewhere in Africa, are regarded as the divine punishers of sin.

For the individual, the oblation may be a fowl or a goat;

for an entire community, it may be hundreds of animals (in former days, the principal oblation was human).

Once consecrated and ritually slain, the oblations are buried, burnt, or left exposed but never shared by the sacrificer.

There are sacrifices in which the victim does serve as a substitute for the guilty.

In some West African cults a person believed to be under death penalty by the gods offers an animal substitute to which he transfers his sins.

The animal, which is then ritually killed, is buried with complete funeral rites as though it were the human person.

Thus the guilty person is dead, and it is an innocent man who is free to begin a new life.

Fertility. Another distinctive feature of the first-fruits offering is that it serves to replenish the sacred potencies of the earth depleted by the harvest and to ensure thereby the continued regeneration of the crop.

Thus, it is one of many sacrificial rites that have as their intention the seasonal renewal and reactivation of the fertility of the earth.

Fertility rites usually involve some form of blood sacrifice—in former days especially human sacrifice.

In some human sacrifices, the victim represented a deity who “in the beginning” allowed himself to be killed so that from his body edible vegetation might grow.

The ritual slaying of the human victim amounted to a repetition of the primordial act of creation and thus a renewal of vegetational life.

In other human sacrifices the victim was regarded as representing a vegetation spirit that annually died at harvest time so that it might be reborn in a new crop.

In still other sacrifices at planting time or in time of famine, the blood of the victim—animal or human—was let upon the ground and its flesh buried in the soil to fertilize the earth and recharge its potencies.

Building Sacrifices. Numerous instances are known of animal and human sacrifices made in the course of:

the construction of houses, shrines, and other buildings, and

in the laying out of villages and towns.

Their purpose has been to consecrate the ground by establishing the beneficent presence of the sacred order and by repelling or rendering harmless the demonical powers of the place. Example:

In some West African cults, before the central pole of a shrine or a house is installed, an animal is ritually slain, its blood being poured around the foundations and its body being put into the posthole.

On the one hand, this sacrifice is made to the earth deities and the supernatural powers of the place—the real owners—so that the human owner may take possession and be ensured against malevolent interferences with the construction of the building and its later occupation and use.

On the other hand, the sacrifice is offered to the cult deity to establish its benevolent presence in the building.

The organization of sacrificial rites in the different cultures and religions has undoubtedly been influenced by a number of factors.

Example. Economic considerations certainly have had some impact upon primitive peoples in the:

selection of the victim and

the time of sacrifice and

in the determination of whether the victim is consumed or totally destroyed and

whether the sacrificer is an individual or a collective group.

The importance of such factors is an aspect of sacrifice that deserves increased investigation.

Nevertheless, sacrifice is not a phenomenon that can be reduced to rational terms; it is fundamentally a religious act that has been of profound significance to individuals and social groups throughout history, a symbolic act that establishes a relationship between man and the sacred order.

For many peoples of the world, throughout time, sacrifice has been the very heart of their religious life.

Accusations of human sacrifice in ancient and modern times have been far more widespread than the ritual practice ever was.

The ancient Greeks told many myths that involved human sacrifice, which has led some researchers to posit that rites among the Greeks and Romans which involved the killing of animals may have originally involved human victims.

At the end of the 20th century, however, archaeological evidence did not support this claim.

Some early Christians were falsely accused of cannibalism, consuming sacrificial victims at nocturnal feasts, a misunderstanding probably due to the secrecy surrounding the Eucharistic rite and the use of the words body and blood.

From the Middle Ages until quite recently, Jews were often maliciously accused of having sacrificed Christian children at Passover, an accusation which has been termed the blood libel.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

You're too lovely, thanks so much! Hope this helps with your writing. Found all of this really interesting as well.

[bwat5-blog]

The Commander: Part One

**Spoilers For All of Arcane**

Thankfully, despite being perhaps the least understood and appreciated character arc in modern media, the amount of incredible material being sent into the ether defending/explaining Caitlyn Kiramman's arc for season two has become truly inspiring. In fact, it was two statements I saw being echoed across the fandom that drove me to the point I was willing to emerge from lurkerdom, and start engaging with all of you wonderful people.

"Vi was the Jinx"

"Ku Klux Kiramman"

Now any of you who have kept up with my writing know that the first one is just about aneurysm inducing to me. And as such, I have written quite a bit about it. But the second one is no less idiotic, and while I have written multiple shorter pieces addressing various aspects of her character. It is on this subject I return to you tonight, hoping to put together a more complete picture of my thoughts on her story, and continue to support the recognition of the humanity, and heroism of Caitlyn Kiramman.

Before we begin, there will perhaps be someone who reads this, who has filed the story of Caitlyn Kiramman away under the heading of "ACAB", or "Facist" in their own mind, and chosen to turn away from what lies below the surface this tale. If that is you, welcome. I would encourage you to read ahead with an open mind and heart, and to see the humanity that lies in all of us reflected in this story both good and bad. For as Desmond Tutu once said "My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together"

______________________________________________________________

The Lead Up:

At twenty-three years old, Caitlyn Kiramman's life has been altered in ways too vast to reckon with in only a matter of days. I have extensively detailed a series of events in another document specifically with the goal of showing who she is as the story develops. I will not do so again here, but below will list both the destabilizing events, and a basic rundown of who we have come to know, following this characters story.

Who She is-

Bright and curious/ we meet her as a happy and helpful young girl walking with Jayce in episode 1

Unwilling to turn on those she cares for/sitting out in the rain to speak to Jayce when her parents turned on him

Wants to protect her people/when Grayson asks what Kiramman is shooting for, we see her look out over the city

Dedicated Enforcer (believes in the system)/ When caught investigating the airship without permission, we learn she has done this before. And later that she has an ongoing investigation into the corruption of the undercity.

Open minded toward undercity/ Many examples. Kindness to large man who Vi keeps ruining when she finds him shot, she hugs Huck without reservation for saving Vi, verbally equates undercity and topsiders while caring for Vi, stands by testimony that Jinx alone was the reason for the attack even after her mother's death.

Brave and loyal/Engages Sevika immediately to save Vi's life, trades her rifle to save Vi, tries to trade her freedom for Vi's before she learns the Firelights are allies.

Destabilizing/Traumatizing events-

Survives Jinx's theft of gemstone in which six enforcers were killed.

Helps Vi escape Silco and his goons, they literally bring a building down.

First meeting with Jinx in person, attack of the firelights.

Taken by firelights, doesn't know if they are going to hurt them or not at first.

Almost killed by the sheriff after watching him shoot Ekko.

Survives Jinx's attack.

Abducted by Jinx from her childhood home, naked, while in the shower.

Bound and gagged with smiling mask at Jinx's tea party. Listens as Jinx tries to get Vi to kill her.

Has opportunity to stop Jinx, shows mercy at Vi's pleading.

Violently knocked out.

Helplessly watches Jinx fire the rocket that will kill her mother and 2 other councilors.

Summary: So, at twenty-three years of age, Caitlyn has lost her mother, been almost killed by the leader of the system of law and order she has believed in her entire life, been terrorized, abducted and nearly murdered multiple times by the same woman who killed her mother, who she possibly could have stopped. All in a matter of days. To help keep things in perspective, let's look at a few points using USA real life application.

She has only been legally allowed to drink for two years.

Based on the average, she has not even been able to drive for ten years.

Based on the average, she would graduated high school five years ago at most.

Based on the average for American college students she would be close to finishing her bachelors degree if she was in college.

Now, moving forward we are going to discuss both the grief and trauma she is experiencing. Those who have read my material have seen my stance regarding her grief. It is not different here so by all means skip ahead. It is only thanks to an insightful user who wrote an excellent post regarding her trauma recently that I realized I had been neglecting that point, so I will try to do it justice here. But we cannot move into her "down-fall" without a proper look at these two factors.

Grief-

" Zaunites live with fear of death constantly, Caitlyn loses one family member and gets to lose her mind"

" Not gonna feel bad for the oppressor when the oppressed finally hit back. #sorrynotsorry"

" So losing your mom justified becoming a war criminal?"

Folks, I've said it many times at this point and will continue to say it. Grief is not a contest. The way in which we perceive the world has to come through the filter of our beliefs and experiences. Now it can change, as we grow, and learn, and come to understand more about the wider world around us. But it's just how it works. Of course, if you grow up with death all around you, you are not going to react as strongly to the single death of a loved one. Not to say of course that you don't grieve or feel that loss, but it will be less jarring.

But for a moment, imagine you have never felt that pain. Never known the darkness of someone who used to occupy a place in your world being gone and there being nothing you can do. Oh, and for an added bonus, add the guilt of feeling like you could have saved them...

It does not erase the pain of the people of Zaun to validate that of Caitlyn. It does not deny the history of oppression and suffering of the Undercity to recognize and validate that after days of incredibly traumatizing violence, this young woman now has to reckon with her mother's violent death that she will always wonder if she could have stopped.

Trauma-

"I want to tear that laugh from her throat forever"...

"I understand now, how easy it is to hate them. One vicious act.."

*As I have stated in various posts mostly pertaining to Jinx, I am in no way a mental health professional of any kind. So anything I share is my effort at understanding through research and observation*

To begin, we need to remember how Caitlyn grew up. Wealthy, safe, and privileged. People are determined to use her upbringing to rob her suffering of any validity, but... why? Does the fact that she was raised in wealth rob her of the ability to suffer? to bleed? No, at the end of the day it means she has known a life without danger, hunger, pain and loss. And in only a matter of days, has had each of those things violently crash into her life with no way to stop it.

As I am operating from a complete layman's perspective, I am going to try and keep this simple:

Near Death Experiences- In a matter of days Caitlyn has for the first time in her life, been through a series of events that could easily have killed her. Speaking as someone who used to do a job that occasionally placed me in violent situations, and never as severe as what Caitlyn has been through, I can tell you the effects of each and everyone are quite real. According to a report from the Bureau of Justice Statistics in 2009, "Among all victims of violent crime, the two most widely experienced emotional symptoms were feeling worried or anxious (72%) and feeling angry (70%) for a month or more". A month of heightened anger and anxiety from a single violent incident. She has been through quite a bit more than that.

2. Abduction- Caitlyn was taken from the bathroom of her childhood home. She was naked when Jinx showed up, and at some point made to put on her Enforcer uniform and bound and gagged. By this time, Jinx has almost killed her several times, and killed many of her peers. And now she is here in Caitlyn's home, in a place where Caitlyn is vulnerable and all alone. Violating her sense of safety and security to the highest degree. An article from Sage Journals by David Alexander and Susan Klein lists "intrusive thoughts..hypervigilance..anger.. and depression" all as possible long term effects in victims of hostage taking and abductions, among many others. We can see all of these manifesting in Caitlyn, but to draw attention to Intrusive thoughts:

"I keep seeing three faces... but then there's Jinx... laughing.. I want to tear that laugh from her throat forever"

SEASON 2:

Okay.... that was a lot! I know, and I appreciate you if you are still here (yes even you hashtagger). But now that we have established a proper baseline and understanding of what occured in season one we can really dig into season 2 and everything this young woman goes through.

Before the attack on the memorial, it seems as though there is a chance of Caitlyn keeping her ahead above that dark water she feels rising. Even with all that has happened, she does not blame the Undercity at this time. She maintains her testimony that Jinx alone is responsible. She protests that innocents will be caught in the cross-fire when Salo wishes for war. What she could not know, is that Ambessa Medarda was already making moves to get the war she has been hoping for, and has her eyes on Caitlyn to do it.

The Memorial Attack-

The Memorial attack is the push. it is the thing needed to tip Caitlyn over the edge she had only barely been clinging to. She and Vi share a moment afterward in which Vi recognizes that this had been done for the sake of the spectacle, but Caitlyn is angry... on top of everything else she has been through, even a day to mourn her mother's passing has been tainted with violence. Her fellow enforcers lay dead all around them, as well as the bodies of their attackers mere feet from the watch statues of the deceased councilors.

And although she was not, it is entire reasonable to assume Caitlyn and Vi would assume Jinx's involvement in some way given all that happened. Caitlyn admits she is afraid... afraid that if she goes after Jinx without Vi, one of them will die. And the dominoes begin to fall as our characters are driven to betray their principles in the name of "justice"... As Caitlyn strides into the Council meeting, announcing she has claimed the role as the leader of her house, and will be leading a strike team into Zaun with 3 objectives.

Dismantle Shimmer

Apprehend Jinx

Neutralize any agents still loyal to Sico

All according to plan...

*** Sorry folks didn't intend to have to split this in two but time ran out on me. Hope to get part 2 up over the next day or so. Thanks for reading!****

[bestanimal]

Round 2.5 - Cnidaria - Hexacorallia

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

The anthozoan class Hexacorallia contains five extant (living) orders: Actiniaria (“sea anemones”), Antipatharia (“black corals” or “thorn corals”), Corallimorpharia (“false corals”), Scleractinia (“stony corals” or “hard corals”), and Zoantharia (“zoanthids”). This class contains many of the most important reef builders: the stony corals, sea anemones, and zoanthids.

Like all anthozoans, these organisms are formed of individual soft polyps which in some species live in colonies and can secrete a calcite skeleton. Some species live as solitary polyps. Hexacorals are distinguished from Octocorals by having six or fewer axes of symmetry in their body structure, and tentacles which are simple and unbranched and normally number more than eight. Reef-building or hermatypic corals are mostly colonial, building a communal skeleton around their colony. Corallimorphs are similar to the stony corals, except for the stony skeleton, and have a tendency to overgrow reefs in a carpet formation. Most sea anemones are solitary, single polyps attached to a hard surface by their base but some species float near the surface, or can deatach to escape predators.

Hexacorals are filter-feeding carnivores, using their tentacles armed with stinging cells, called cnidocytes, to catch and neutralize plankton and draw it into their mouth. Larger polyps are able to take correspondingly larger prey, including various invertebrates and even fish. Many species have separate sexes, the whole colony being either male or female, but others are hermaphroditic, with individual polyps having both male and female gonads. Most species release gametes into the sea where fertilisation takes place, and the planula larvae drift as plankton, but a few species brood their eggs. Once the larvae settle in an area, they will metamorphize into a polyp. In colonial species, this initial polyp will repeatedly divide to give rise to an entire colony. Hexacorals can also reproduce by fragmentation, where part of a colony becomes detached and reattaches elsewhere, cloning polyps to grow the colony in the new area.

Hexacorals have existed since the Fortunian. Mackenzia, from the Middle Cambrian Burgess Shale of Canada, is the oldest fossil identified as a sea anemone. Nonetheless, many hexacorals have been declining in numbers and are expected to continue declining due to poaching, ocean acidification and climate change.

Propaganda under the cut:

Hexacorals provide housing, shelter, food, and protection for so many other animals. They are The Givers of the Animal Kingdom.

The largest coral ever recorded, a Pavona clavus colony dubbed the “mega coral” lives off the Solomon Islands. It is 34m (112 ft )wide, 32m (105 ft) long and 4.9m (16 ft) high, larger than a Blue Whale, composed of nearly one billion polyps, and more than 300 years old!

Coral is loud. It can hear and it communicates with each other via sound. We’re only beginning to discover this information and understand the implications of it, and more research needs to be done, but the amount of noise-making humans do in the ocean tends to disrupt the communication corals have with each other and other reef life.

Black Corals have historically been used by Pacific Islanders for medical treatment and in rituals, and are used in modern day for making jewelry.

Sea anemones and zoanthids are popular in the aquarium trade, however, their popularity threatens some populations as the trade depends on collection from the wild.

In southwestern Spain and Sardinia, the Snakelocks Anemone (Anemonia viridis) is consumed as a delicacy. The whole animal is marinated in vinegar, then coated in a batter similar to that used to make calamari, and deep-fried in olive oil.

Most sea anemones are harmless to humans, but a few highly toxic species (notably Actinodendron arboreum, Phyllodiscus semoni and Stichodactyla spp.) have caused severe injuries and are potentially lethal.

Clownfish and Anemonefish (Subfamily Amphiprioninae) are most famous for having a mutualistic relationship with sea anemones, receiving protection from predators by hiding in the anemone's stinging tentacles, and providing the anemone nutrients in the form of faeces. Some other animals have been recorded utilizing sea anemones in a similar way, including cardinalfish, juvenile threespot dascyllus, incognito (or anemone) gobies, juvenile painted greenlings, various crabs (such as Inachus phalangium, Mithraculus cinctimanus and Neopetrolisthes), shrimp (such as certain Alpheus, Lebbeus, Periclimenes and Thor), opossum shrimp (such as Heteromysis and Leptomysis), and various marine snails. One of the more unusual relationships are those between certain anemones (such as Adamsia, Calliactis and Neoaiptasia) and hermit crabs or snails, where the anemones live on the shell of the hermit crab or snail, providing protection from predators while being provided with transportation. Another unusual relationship is between Bundeopsis or Triactis anemones and Lybia boxing crabs, where the small anemones are actually carried around in the claws of the boxing crab as little weapons.

Look at this anemone eating an entire Mola:

(source)

[summerlinenss]

Continuing the discussion from Twitter about Taika possibly not being straight, I do hesitate to diagnose strangers with 'queer' because it's usually done by utalising stereotypes (like just him being flamboyant or the latest 'evidence' of him being at a Paris Hilton concert, he seems to go to pretty much everything.)

Without getting too parasocial, the everyone's a bit queer quote from before Thor 4 seemed different though, almost like a soft launch? The dumb backlash was unfortunately familiar to me, as someone who poked her head out of the closet, only to be met with a resounding 'we don't want you'. If he was trying to do that, I dont blame him for not trying since, I certainly havent.

Like i don't think he's a closeted gay, theres no indication that his romantic relationships with women havent been real, but he is from a generation that flat out didnt think bisexuality was a real thing. And the fact he's older and has talked about growing up in a toxic masculinity culture probably has more to with it.

I dunno, i know i shouldnt be think about strangers like this, but some things he's said feel familiar to me

(context for those not on the bird app)

i totally agree with not labelling anyone, and (regardless of how he does identify) taika seems very comfortable in his sexuality, which is all that matters. however, there’s also nothing he’s ever done to make me assume he is straight, if that makes sense?

i definitely took his out magazine interview as a sort of soft launch, as you said. especially since he followed it up with a “coming out” joke tweet. but the amount of vitriol he faced for it was absurd, and it’s still so strange to me how people instantly took his comments in bad faith instead of making the fairly obvious assumption that he was just saying “i consider myself to be part of this community.”

a quote i actually think about a lot is from when taika was on the vanity fair little gold men podcast (around 00:59:45) and got into talking about the stereotypical hyper-masculine culture of growing up in aotearoa, and i feel like it gives some insight into his feelings on this subject:

“I will tell ya, I grew up in a — a pretty macho culture and a very macho country. Where it’s like, you know, you play rugby and, you know, you drink beer, and it’s, like… kind of, life is just set out for you, and… how boring? You know? It’s just, like, you know, it’s like — people are like, ‘Well, I don’t want any immigrants here,’ and then complain that there’s only one type of food to eat. And so, it’s like… you know, that you… want to have an interesting life and you want to be able to — you want to expose yourself to art, and to — you know, to various cultures and various types of people. So for me, growing up, I… I was exposed to that from an early age through, like, on my mother’s side, especially. So it was, like… there were a lot of eccentric and interesting and weird artists and stuff in my life. Um, so it wasn’t, like, a later in life, big shock for me. It was always there. But I think I’ve realized that there are so many ways of being a man, and… and to be… just macho and to just want to be, like… just straight. Just to be, like, so determined to be straight, is… so… sad. And, like — and also is — it just feels so tiring. Wouldn’t it be so tiring just to, like, have to hold on to something that no one cares about? So — so tightly? And it’s, like, look, if you just let go and accept who — then we don’t have to have the conversation. We can talk about more important things. But the idea that we still have to talk about all of this is mad. (…) So, you know, it’s like… I would much rather have the discussions around, you know, more intense, more upsetting things that are happening to humanity than, like, who someone’s in love with.”

[doberbutts]

You've spoken some about the dammage being done by breeding all breeds for a similar temperment. I feel like I've seen this too, people want a dog for the look and then want all dogs to just be companions. Are you willing to talk more about why we don't want all breeds to be chill companion dogs?

Well, I'm not really sure if I don't think all breeds should be chill companion dogs, but I do think all dogs aren't correct being so.

You have to understand, we domesticated dogs not just for companionship but also to help us accomplish tasks. And sometimes, the temperament that helps us accomplish these tasks... make it more difficult for the dog to be a do-nothing couch pet that gets maybe a walk on the weekends. It's not a bad thing, necessarily. Different strokes, different folks. But it does mean that trying to force dogs which are bred to not do that to fit into that mold is not really feasible if we also want the dogs to be able to continue doing the job we asked them to do.

A friend of mine had a great pyr, who she got from someone who kept their dogs the way pyrs are traditionally kept. Outside, with the sheep, guarding the flocks with their livestock guardian bond day and night. She got this dog as a puppy. This dog grew into an adult that was absolutely miserable in the house. Everyone's lives got a lot easier when they fenced their lot and gave the dog the option to be in or out during the day. Suddenly, the dog's annoying and destructive behavior (largely barking and also trying to get outside) disappeared practically overnight when he discovered he could just. Go outside. She had no sheep, she lived halfway to the middle of nowhere, and he was usually found just hanging out on their back porch watching the world go by around him. Occasionally barking if a car came down their driveway (like my mom's car, to drop me off at her house, because we were kids).

The problem is that the thing that makes them really, really good at guarding the sheep can also sometimes make them not so good at being house pets that sleep on the couch. He did not want to sleep on the couch. He wanted to sit outside and watch for predators so that his "sheep"- the humans inside the house- could be protected by him. To take this urge away from him, would also make him be bad at guarding sheep.

I have a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog. They, too, were bred to hang out outside all day, helping with various chores as their humans worked on the farm. Sushi's favorite activity is, you guessed it, following me around the yard as I pull weeds and rake up sticks and take a hedge trimmer to my never ending war with woody invasives. She loves when I take her to her breeder's house to chase the sheep or pull the wagon. She goes absolutely bananas in my car when we pull up to a hiking spot to go climb a mountain that day. These are things that make her a good mountain dog.

Now I actually think that Swissies are slept on but otherwise great pet dogs if their needs are met, but I have been part of swissy pet groups ever since getting Sushi and I can see when people have problems with their Swissies as a direct result of their needs not being met. Once again, barking and destruction from boredom. Dogs that throw around their body weight with zero regard to the humans involved. Dogs that refuse to recall, or that make their owners chase them down to come inside. Pulling like a freight train on leash. Chasing down and nipping at running children. These are behaviors that, while annoying in their worst forms, are often stemming directly from instincts that make them good at the job they were meant to do.

Sushi doesn't do any of those things- but then Sushi gets to do fun things that are mountain dog adjacent, so she is able to be a mountain dog without being a bad pet.

As long as we want to have dogs that have jobs, we will also have dogs that maybe don't belong in the hands of those who want chill companions. And, similarly, as long as people's idea of a pet is the most low effort dog ownership possible and anything even slightly more difficult is too much to ask, breeding these working dogs to not work will only result in dogs that can no longer work.

[spencersssockss]

Library

Summary: You meet Spencer at the library when going to check out The Fisher King…

Warnings: none!!!

Word count: 700

Ally: This is based loosely off the fisher king episode kinda but not really, sorry about the length!! I plan on having a second part to this one soon!!! Enjoy lovelies!

You loved reading, any free time you had was spent reading, and it served as a distraction.

Your friend had been telling you about a book she had recently heard of, it was called The Fisher King, you did a tremendous amount of research on it only to find out the only possible way to read it would be to get it from your local library as it was no longer being sold due to its old age and rarity.

You decided to visit the library after work to pick it up, luckily someone had just returned it, and just as you were checking out a nerdy, tall, and lanky man walked towards the front desk next to you.

“Do you mind if I read that book in your hand before you leave?” It’ll only take like ten minutes,” he quickly said eyes bright as he bounced his foot nervously.

“Ten minutes?” you questioned cocking an eyebrow.

Spencer bit his cheek for a second before replying, “I have an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute, I know it sounds crazy but just trust me, it's really important,” he mumbled quickly.

“I-uh okay,” you stuttered handing him the book.

Taking the book in his hands, Spencer carefully flipped through it, fingers running over every page as he read, his eyes glancing over the words quickly, taking in every detail. After what seemed like only a few seconds, he closed the book and handed it back to you with a small smile.

“There's no way you read that all,” you blurted eyes widening.

“I promise, I did. My name's Spencer Reid by the way,” he said extending his hand for you to shake.

you shook it hesitantly still in disbelief.

With a smile, Spencer continued, “I'm a psychologist and criminal profiler for the FBI, always on the lookout for new books to read, this time it was actually for a case.”

You gasped in realization, you remembered before you graduated he had done a lecture at your college. “I've seen you before, you do lectures right?” you asked.

Spencer's cheeks reddened slightly, and he nodded. "Yeah, I've given several lectures on various topics, mostly about the human mind and behavior."

“You're one of the reasons I became a counselor,” you smiled.

Spencer smiled warmly, "That's amazing. I'm glad to have played a small part in your journey." He glanced around the library, trying to think of something else to say. "Would you like to get coffee or something sometime?”

“Absolutely, do you want my number?” you asked breaking into a smile.

"I'd love your number," Spencer replied, pulling out his phone. He tapped on the screen a few times before handing it over to you. "Here, add your number, sorry for not asking your name earlier, if you don't mind me asking now what is it?” he blushed slightly.

“it's y/n,” you smiled putting in your number and handing his phone back to him.

"Thank you, Y/N," Spencer said, pocketing his phone. He couldn't help but feel a bit flustered at the interaction. It was rare for him to meet someone who understood and appreciated his work so deeply. "Well, I should probably get back to my research now.”

“Yeah, sorry for keeping you so long,” you blushed holding the book against your chest.

"It's quite alright," Spencer reassured you with a gentle smile. "I hope we can catch up again soon, maybe over that coffee or even another book." He waved goodbye before disappearing into the stacks of the library.

You stood there for a moment still in disbelief at what had just happened, the librarian laughed before saying, “he's a cutie isn't he?”

You blushed deeply turning to face her to answer, “Just a little,” you mumbled making her laugh again.

“He works for the FBI actually,” she added laughing again as your eyes widened.

“Good to know,” you smiled waving at her as you left the library and headed home to read the book. Which would probably take YOU a lot longer than ten minutes.

[imsosleepyofyourbull]

Rewatching KNY and seeing Zenitsu again is almost giving me whiplash, because he went from being one of my least favorite characters to one of my most beloved in a flash. It sucks that his defining moments are so frequently interrupted or otherwise disturbed by his obsession with finding a wife, and that it kept me from analyzing him the way I should’ve been doing at the start. Because, at his core, Zenitsu is a lesson on weakness — on learning to live and adapt when you can’t immediately overcome it.

This is evident from his very first appearance, where he’s shown mumbling about his inevitable death and his fear of demons after surviving final selection as one of the five senses (the hearing to Kanao’s sight, Tanjiro’s smell, Inosuke’s touch, and Genya’s taste.) It continues on in his actual introduction in the Tsuzumi Mansion Arc, where he spends the majority of his time crying or in various other states of terror. The two exceptions to this are when he falls asleep for the first time and when he defends Nezuko’s box from Inosuke.

The former is part of a larger discussion on his sleepwalking habit and its impact as a coping mechanism, so I’ll be talking about the latter;

Zenitsu outright says that he has a habit of trusting the wrong people, and that being able to hear their sounds hasn’t done him any good in remedying that. He’s known Tanjiro for maybe a handful of hours at this point, but he throws himself on Nezuko’s box anyway. Not because he likes her (not yet) but because she matters to someone he wants to believe in. For someone who clearly hates being in pain, that says volumes about who he actually is as a person. He might be a coward, but he’s also loyal and self sacrificing.

He earnestly follows behind the people he cares about even when it might get him into trouble. The fact that he’s a demon slayer at all is evidence of that — a testament to his love for Jigoro for believing in him and continuing to believe in him even when he seemed hopeless or tried to run away. There was nothing keeping him attached to the demon slayer corps after his gramps wasn’t there to drag him to the final selection or his missions (and we know from Aoi that he could definitely retire early) but he stays.

He runs and cowers and cries and he keeps moving forward, because his gramps gave him the courage to try again and again after failure;

This, I believe, is the reason behind his sleepwalking habit. It’s a response to his desire to change and grow as a person, manifesting in an unconscious state where he forces himself to shed his terror and pain so that he can actually work at his full potential. It doesn’t just apply to his body either, given that (as the series goes on) his sleepwalking also allows him to access his natural analytical abilities where his panic might have blinded him. He couldn’t get rid of the weakness that hindered him, so he adapted to it;

And then — when he learned what became of Kaigaku and that their shared mentor had given his life in repentance — he finally overcame his cowardice altogether and stopped sleeping;

He beat Kaigaku entirely awake, and he fought Muzan the same way. Being with Jigoro and Tanjiro and Nezuko and Inosuke and everyone else didn’t rid him of his fear, but it did teach him to adapt to and then overcome it. To push it aside to achieve his goals, protecting the people he cares about as more than the human shield he was when he held onto Nezuko’s box and desperately hoped that his body could withstand Inosuke’s abuse. More than that, they also taught him to be more comfortable in his own skin.

I’m not going to say that Zenitsu can’t be an annoying character — I can’t stand his behavior toward women and rather disliked him for the longest time — but he’s much more interesting than his initial impression would have you believe. He’s loyal, protective, self sacrificing, insecure, and surprisingly taciturn when he wants to be. The fact that he sleepwalks for every battle before the final arc and his resolution with Kaigaku really hammers his character themes home, and I find that he’s genuinely interesting to think about!

[frosteee]

"Benevolent Lord Uncle Zeus" my arse - On Prometheus and Epimetheus and Pandora

I've been following the development of Hades 2's story and, like everyone, become absolutely infatuated by Prometheus (my GOD). It also got me thinking about his myth, and that of his brother Epimetheus and Pandora.

And, very VERY happily, it reunited me with a retelling of Pandora's Box that I haven't listened to since the early 2000s - a tape of several stories by Storyteller, of which Pandora's Box is one. It's wonderfully told, very immersive and emotional. I highly recommend a listen!

Anyway, in anticipation of Epimetheus's debut in the Hades series, I've been hyperfixating obsessing thinking about how his character might be interpreted.

[Mythology splurge ahead]

Epimetheus's name means "hindsight".

THE CREATION OF MANKIND

One version of the story goes that Zeus gave he and Prometheus the task of creating life on earth. Prometheus created mankind from clay, in the image of the gods, and Epimetheus created the animals. Epimetheus was also tasked with bestowing traits of the gods upon earth's creatures, to help them survive. So Epimetheus gave claws to one creature, scales another, and so on. But when he came to give a gift to mankind, he had no traits left to give them.

This was exactly as Zeus planned. Epimetheus did not have his brother's foresight, so he did not think to prepare for such an outcome. Zeus was satisfied with mankind's eternal dependence on the gods, weak despite being moulded in their divine image.

It was in this same spirit that he gave Prometheus the task of showing mortals how to properly sacrifice to the gods - in short, reserve the best parts for the gods and leave the offal for themselves - Prometheus defied him so that mankind would not suffer for the gods to stroke their egos.

After this incident, Zeus hid fire from humanity, so that they would be cold and hungry. And because Epimetheus had not given any traits from the gods, mankind was doomed to extinction. So Prometheus took it upon himself to steal fire back, as well as teach them on all kinds of subjects (mathematics, architecture, etc.) so they could advance and build civilisations.

And we all know how well Zeus took that.

TL;DR: Zeus sentenced Prometheus to daily, eternal torture because he did not let all humanity die like Zeus had condemned them to do, out of pure spite and ego.

Now back to Epimetheus. Many tellings of the myth of creation say it was his foolishness that caused everything to go wrong for mankind, as well as dooming his elder brother to his agonising fate.

But I don't personally see stupidity in his actions. Naivete, perhaps, in trusting Zeus to give him enough godly traits to bestow on all creatures, but then, what reason did he have at that point to think otherwise? He and Prometheus had sided with the gods in the war against the Titans. The Titan brothers did not live on Olympus, choosing to live on earth, but they visited and were on friendly terms. Should Epimetheus bear the blame for everything because he did not have the power to see the future? Again, Zeus chose Epimetheus specifically because he did not have that ability.

PANDORA

Then comes Pandora. Some time prior to her creation, before his final punishment, Prometheus had warned Epimetheus not to accept any gifts from the gods. He knew that Zeus was not yet done punishing humanity for his actions. After he was chained to the rock to be tortured for eternity, Epimetheus continued to live on earth among people.

Zeus ordered Haphaestus to create a woman from the earth, a "beautiful evil" whose descendents would punish humanity forever. After she was made, Athena and various other gods dressed her and gave her speech and other attributes before placing her on earth. She charmed any man she came upon. She took with her a jar containing "countless plagues" and evils. Her target was Epimetheus, and he accepted her and took her as his wife.

What could Epimetheus do? He knew what his brother had warned, but his brother was also the prime example of what happened to those who defied the gods. If Epimetheus rejected her, the gods could take the oppornity to make Prometheus's punishment even worse. And even if they chose to punish Epimetheus directly, the people his brother had made and loved would have no-one to champion them, and would likely be punished in his absence. He had stayed among men to help them like his brother had.

Epimetheus knew from hindsight - defiance meant suffering.

Unfortunately, compliance also meant suffering. Pandora had been made by the gods for the express purpose of punishing all mankind and ensuring their subservience. Despite Epimetheus's warnings, Pandora opens the box and releases the evil, while also allowing Hope to escape as well. Hesiod closes the tale with the moral "there is no way to escape the will of Zeus".

It's clear to me that Epimetheus was damned no matter what he did. The gods were set on punishing Prometheus's beloved people either way. It was more fitting to use his brother to do it, so they gave him Pandora, knowing he would refuse at his peril. Pandora opened the box because that is what she was made to do.

Hesiod may paint her as a wicked temptress, the woman who infected mankind to cause misery for generations, but she had just been born. She could only do what she was meant to do. She likely did not know what the box contained more than Epimetheus did, she was only compelled to open it. I'm sure Supergiant would agree that she was as much a pawn and victim of the gods machinations as her husband and brother-in-law.

That's another thing about this. Pre-Pandora, humans were composed entirely of men. There was no illness or hunger, everyone got along well, there was prosperity and wisdom, all thanks to Prometheus. It was a paradise because of Prometheus. Zeus made a woman specifically to destroy all of that, and ensure successive generations would be born into a corrupted world.

I somehow very much doubt Supergiant will integrate this part of the myth in their story, but regardless of the makeup of humanity at the time, it was paradise on earth, and the evils Pandora released upon them brought misery, pain and a death.

TORMENT

Epimetheus was set up to fail no matter what he did. His feelings on all that transpired can only be seen in some accounts, where he has another daughter named Metameleia, whose name means "regret of what has occurred".

The fact that he only had hindsight to work with only makes his tragedy worse. Looking back at what you could have done better is good if managed properly. But the human mind likes to ruminate on the past, and people are so often their own worst critics. Oftentimes hindsight distorts the past and we learn the wrong lessons, if any at all.

But how can one do better against the gods? No matter what Epimetheus learned, the gods were determined to get their way. His brother had paid a terrible price for tricking them to benefit humanity. Epimetheus tried to avoid disaster by appeasing them, but there is no way to escape the will of Zeus.

But despite being placed in an impossible position, made to lose no matter what, Epimetheus still feels regret. He believes it was his own choices, lacking the traits his brother had, that led to things turning out as they did. He blames himself for everything - his brother's fate, humanity's fate. Mankind was his brother's legacy, and it was their prosperity that made Prometheus's sacrifice meaningful, bearable. And under Epimetheus's watch, all of that was taken away.

In Epimetheus's mind, he took it away. His hindsight paints him as the ultimate fool, and he cannot forget it. If he had only done this...if he had only done that...

Wracked with guilt, Epimetheus is faced with the decay of humanity, Pandora's death. Whether he blames her at all or not, ultimately he blame himself most of all.

EPIMETHEUS IN HADES 2 (THE SPECULATION BEGINS)

So what next? Well, Heracles released Prometheus from his torture, allowing him to align with Chronos. Epimetheus would return to his brother's side carrying the weight of humanity's woes, a failure in every way. He failed his brother, he failed humanity.

Perhaps, in his younger years, Epimetheus was able to be carefree and forgetful because Prometheus was there to cover for him. Perhaps because his brother was wise, it was OK to be a fool once in a while, until it wasn't. But even if it had been forgetfulness and lack of preparation that made him neglect humanity, why was the price to pay so heavy?

Did humanity deserve to DIE because he forgot to check the number of gifts he had, did they deserve to DIE because his brother would not let them give their valuables to the gods, did they deserve to SUFFER AND DIE because Epimetheus, knowing how the gods punish defiance, accept the gift they gave him?

When Epimetheus does appear, I have little doubt he will be as handsome as his brother. They are, after all, twins, Epimetheus being the younger of the two. However, I imagine the psychological toll of everything he has endured, and continues to endure, would show upon him as well, as well as in his behaviour. Broken and desperate to make up for his past "failures".

Prometheus likely forsaw everything that was to happen. It seems he can see multiple versions of the future. But he himself states that while he does not know the "why" of his many premonitions.

He may bear resentment towards Epimetheus because of this, or perhaps, knowing his brother's good heart, and knowing the mercilessness of the gods, he would know why Epimetheus did what he did, without his little brother needing to say a word. Their relationship in present time may mirror Moros's feelings about the Fates: "Maybe they knew always that I would fail them, and loved me anyway".

This may only make Epimetheus feel worse rather than better. Perhaps he would want his brother to hate him as much as he hates himself. This could be a subplot between the two of them as the story progresses.

All he would want now is to atone, to help his brother in any way he can. All he has left is Hope, which Pandora released into the world to temper the evils. He has no belief in himself, only a desperate, obsessive desire to make up for his past passivity by fighting the gods head on, for his brother. Perhaps even by his brother's side. He has given himself entirely to his brother, and trusts his foresight. Perhaps he is the only one Prometheus entrusts his premonitions with, and whatever goals he has, Epimetheus knows.

Epimetheus created the animals, and gave them their special traits, so it would make sense for him to be dressed accordingly, and maybe have some animal friends to help him. Honestly, just thinking about that gives me all the fuzzy feelings.

I hope to see him soon, though I'll try not to get too caught up with my own imaginings. I'm sure whatever Supergiant do will be awesome, as always. Prometheus is already delivering.

Oh, and Zeus is a bastard.

[RAMBLE OVER, HAVE A GREAT DAY!]

[creadigol]

iff you want could you maybe continue this? this ask is a request ofc and idk if you do continuation, so if you don't want to then it's okay!! ^_^

Hey y’all! Apologies for the long absence, but I’m back in town and have finally come up with a continuation of my Hero Domestic Violence/Abuse snippet. 

I have had many requests to continue this one so I spent a lot of time trying to make it good! 

As before, there are very heavy mentions of such topics stated above in this snippet as well as mentions of violence, emotional abuse and choking. Please be safe my darlings! I love y’all!

Part 1

Hero must have blacked out or entered into some sort of daze, because the next thing they knew Hero was sitting on an exam table in what must have been one of Villain's many bases. 

Though the room itself was no doubt a medical facility, Hero knew this by the various medical equipment and smell of antiseptic, but there was a certain ambiance about the room which did not match any hospital or medical offices Hero had been to before…and Hero had been to many. 

If Hero only ever went to one, people would catch on. So Spouse was always sure to bring Hero to a different facility every time. 

Everytime. 

God, this was a mess. 

This room wasn’t lit like typical exam rooms. Rather than harsh fluorescents of busy ER rooms the lights held a warm sunlit-type glow. Welcoming, yet still bright enough to see. Instead of the stupid grey-white walls which everyone had switched to in the early 2000’s, it was bright wood paneling. Oak of some kind, Hero guessed. It complimented the warm glow quite nicely. 

And it was warm! So warm! Villain must have had the heat up to at least 75 and Hero was basking in it! 

At home, Spouse kept the heating down to 65, due to their powers causing them to run hot. Hero didn’t mind of course, they understood, but it did cause Hero to feel cold constantly. They had never had much in the bodyfat department and there was more than one night when Hero would go and take a bath just to unclench their frozen muscles. 

Until Spouse complained about the water bill that is. 

Taking stock once more of the room they were in, Hero noticed that the main door had been left open by a crack. Not that they could have gotten up and run out, not with their side, but they wondered if Villain had done this to make them feel more comfortable. 

Speaking of Villain, they had yet to reappear. Villain and Henchman had helped Hero to a car after the rather embarrassing display on the rooftop and once they had made it to this base, deposited Hero here and left. That had been about twenty minutes ago. 

Maybe they were planning something nefarious? What if this was a kidnapping? Honestly, this was the weakest Hero had ever been in front of Villain. It would be easy, tricking them into willingly walking into a trap with the promise of medical help…Hero had been a mess after all. Supervillain wouldn’t have hesitated in killing Hero on the spot. 

But then again, Villain was not Supervillain. Hero had seen Villain display acts of humanity on several occasions. Sure, they broke the law and believed their government to be the ultimate evil, but they never went in for harming those who didn’t deserve it. 

Didn’t deserve it? God, Hero was starting to think like Villain. No one deserved to be hurt. That was Hero’s motto. 

Things really were confusing right now.

Maybe they should just go home. Surely, Spouse would understand why they didn’t answer their texts for the past few hours. An hour of yelling tops and then Spouse would see the error of their ways and apologize and try to make up for the original fight in the first place by a heated night of…

Hero stopped that train of thought. No, this had to stop. Hero had to get out of the relationship and start thinking straight again…but, then again, Spouse held all the cards. The apartment and car were in Spouse’s name, their bank account was joint, the phone plan was set up by Spouse because they could negotiate better on cellular deals…not to mention, Spouse was more powerful than Hero. Much more powerful than Hero. Even back at the Academy Hero had never won at hand to hand against them. It was what made them seem so strong and confident and…perfect at the time. 

Hero suddenly realized what they were doing and how it would not end well. There was no way Villain could hold against Spouse when it really came down to it. Spouse was constantly bragging about how if Villain had been assigned to them and not Hero, the problem would have been resolved years ago. Hero didn’t want that on their conscience. 

Perhaps they should look at the texts…just to assess the situation. Damage control. 

They picked up their phone. 

As the screen lit up a voice interrupted Hero before they could look at the no doubt anger fueled words. 

“Hero,” Villain stood in the doorway holding gauze, antiseptic, a board of some kind and an ice pack. “Sorry, had a hard time finding an ice pack that was the right size. We’ve gotta get that swelling down on your neck or else you’ll never be able to harass me with those classic witty comebacks again.” 

Though it was said jovially, Hero could sense the hardness behind the tone. Not to mention the look of hatred as Villain glanced at the phone. 

Wanting to respond, but not being able to, Hero nodded once. 

“Great!” Villain strode over and placed everything on the side table. Picking up the board, Hero saw it was a dry erase. Villain handed it to them along with a red marker. 

“Henchman uses this to put up daily reminders for everyone. They thought it would serve for you to tell us what ails you.” Villain glanced back at the door, “They wanted to come in and help, but I didn’t know if you would want that. Figured I’d ask first.” 

Hero couldn’t help the small smile. They had always liked Henchman. Like Villain, they certainly had committed their fair share of crimes and violence, but they also seemed to live by a code. Unlike Supervillain. 

If it hadn’t been for Henchman, Hero was sure they would have passed out on that rooftop and who knows who would have found them if that happened. Hero uncapped the marker. 

Henchman can come in. 

Villain smiled, “Anyone ever tell you your penmanship is crazy good? God, it’s like looking at Victorian script.” 

 They turned towards the doorway once more, “They said it’s fine Henchman!” 

In an instant Henchman was walking through the door. They must have been just waiting on the other side. 

“Hey Hero,” they said. “Hope you’re doing better.” 

Hero nodded at Henchman. 

“Good,” Henchman looked between Hero and Villain for a moment, it looked like they were debating who to talk to next. They settled on both of them. “Looks like it’s just going to be us. Doctor said they couldn’t make it until morning. Still at that conference.” 

Villain nodded as if they knew this was going to be the case and addressed Hero. 

“Anything serious? Or are you okay to wait for the Doc?” 

Hero thought for a moment. Their neck should be fine with the ice, their jaw had certainly been hit harder, but their side…

I think everything is fine, but I’m not sure about my side.  Hero wrote. They gestured to their left side as Villain and Henchman read the script. 

“Alright, let's take a look then. Shirt off.” Villain ordered. 

Hero hesitated. Oh, right. To look at their side, Villain would have to have their shirt off. And to take off their shirt was to expose the…history written across their chest, back and torso. 

Hero was shy about their body. Sure, there was the occasional scar made by Spouse, but most of them were from past fights while Hero had been off hero-ing. They knew it was an occupational hazard, but they also knew it wasn’t great to look at. God only knew the many times Spouse had commented on their unsightly appearance during their intimate times. 

Villain seemed to notice the hesitation and said, “What? It’s not like I haven’t seen it all in this line of work. You should have seen Henchman last month. Supervillain’s Henchman got ‘em pretty bad.”

Henchman nodded, “Not pretty. Gained me a few cool new scars though.” 

Cool new scars, huh? Perhaps it won’t be so bad. 

Hero took off their shirt slowly. It was difficult and painful at first, as it zipped in the back, but Henchman wordlessly walked to the other side of the bed and helped. Villain supporting Hero’s side as they undid the clasp and unzipped. 

“Want to take off the mask as well?” Henchman asked. 

Hero made a face. 

“We’ve already seen your face. Remember? Three months ago it fell off while we were grappling in the snow.” Villain smirked. 

Hero peeled the mask off. They had forgotten about that. The snow had made the normally sticky mask slide off. It was something they had never told Spouse. 

Once deprived of their shirt and mask, Villain took a step back and surveyed the damage. Hero tried not to squirm under the gaze. 

Hero expected Villain and Henchman to make disgusted noises or grunts of anger at their bruised up side and swollen jaw, along with their neck, but instead Villain looked calculating. A slight hint of irritation coming though with their twitching eyebrow. 

“Alright, I’ll have to feel those ribs. They don’t look broken, but it’s best to make sure.”

Hero nodded their permission to Villain and tried to sit straight. 

“No, no, don’t straighten up yet,” Villain flew to their side. They placed one hand on hero’s back while the other poked and prodded their ribs. 

Everytime Hero hissed or flinched, Villain apologized and would move onto another part. It was strange. This whole night was strange. Hero had never seen Villain act this way before. Sure they had their own scruples, but Villain was never…gentle. 

Henchman stood off to the side looking rather anxious as Villain examined Hero. That was another strange thing. Why did they both seem to care?

“Well, good news, they’re not broken. Bad news, I’ll still have to wrap them.” 

Henchman immediately grabbed some wrappings from the cupboard behind them and handed them to Villain. 

“So, Hero,” Villain began as they tightly wrapped their ribs. “Want to tell us how this happened? We need to know if we’re going to treat your injuries effectively.” 

Once again Hero could tell Villain was stating things conversationally for their benefit. Hero made no move for the marker board. 

“We already know who did it, all I want to know is how,” Villain continued. 

Hero thought back. It had seemed like a haze when it happened. All the adrenaline and fear. The normal evening that went from good to horrific. The slight mess up on Hero’s part, the yelling, the grabbing, the throwing…the hands. The hands on their person…the hands on their neck…

Hero felt tears slip past their eyes once more, the sadness and fear coming back. Their jaw shook with unshed sobs. 

They felt the marker and board being pressed into their hands. 

“You don’t need to push yourself. I just need to know what to check on you,” Villain’s voice was soothing and once again uncharacteristically gentle. 

Hero shook as they wrote; the script that Villain had complimented earlier suffered for it. 

It’s never been this bad. Hero wrote. 

They knew it was a cliche response, but they also needed Villain and Henchman to know that it had never gone this far before. Henchman made a noise in the back of their throat as they read the words.

“How bad?” Villain prodded. 

Before, Hero hesitated in writing. How could they word this? 

Before I could always justify it as my fault. I mess up alot. I’m not so good at relationships. 

They waited for them to read this before erasing for more room. Villain had their jaw set and Henchman’s cheeks were getting red. 

I know it’s stupid. I know it’s bad. I just wanted to pretend it away. That was easier. I’m not stupid, I know what’s happening. 

Villain nodded at the words. Hero didn’t know why they were starting out like this. There was just a part of them that needed Villain and Henchman to know that they were still competent. Despite putting themselves in this situation, they weren’t stupid. There was just so much more going on. 

“I don’t think you’re stupid Hero. I never have. I meant it when I said you’re the best this city’s ever seen,” Villain said this while not breaking eye contact or blinking. As if the stare itself would get the words into Hero’s brain.

Hero nodded with a small smile. They needed that. 

They’ve never gone so far before. The other times, I knew I would recover. But this time…Hero stopped writing again. Once again looking for words. They let Villain and Henchman read. 

“What happened this time?” Henchman asked softly. Hero couldn’t tell if the softness was for comfort or if they were so angry they couldn’t raise their voice higher. 

This time, Hero spelled, I really thought they’d kill me.

Their hands shook terribly now and they had to stop and take a breath. 

Villain looked up at the ceiling for a moment while Henchman turned around. It seemed this news really affected them. 

“How?” Villain once again looked Hero in the eyes. They didn’t even try to hide the anger now. 

I can’t remember everything. I know I was thrown into our coffee table. Spouse hit me in the face, Hero paused and let them read while gesturing to their jaw. 

Villain nodded for them to continue. 

They’ve never tried to choke me before… Hero couldn’t seem to finish that one. 

“I understand,” Villain said. “Anything else?” 

Hero thought for a moment and then shook their head. That had been the most of it. The violence itself had only lasted a couple minutes, but it had been the most painful couple minutes of their life. Not only physically, but emotionally. They had never felt so betrayed. 

“Are you going to leave them?” Henchman asked. Hero looked at them and noticed fear in their eyes. Henchman was very concerned with Hero’s answer. Villain made a gesture at Henchman, but they were undeterred. 

“Are you going to leave them?” Henchman repeated. 

Hero uncapped the marker again. 

I want to. 

“But you feel you can’t,” Villain finished the sentence for Hero. 

Hero nodded. 

It never ends well. I know I need to, but they hold all the cards. Hero shrugged sadly. 

“Who cares?” Henchman said angrily. “So they have your money or whatever? That’s not worth you!”

Hero was touched by the sentiment, but felt the need to explain. 

It’s not only that. They’re more powerful than me. More powerful than anyone really. I shouldn’t even be here. The last time someone tried to help…it was bad.

Villain felt their blood freeze, “What do you mean more powerful?” 

It was hard to think of anyone more powerful than Hero. Except themselves of course. 

“Who tried to help?” Henchman asked at the same time. 

Hero grimaced, 

Do you remember Other Hero?

“Oh god,” Henchman whispered. 

“Your Spouse did that?” Villain asked, shocked. 

Hero nodded. 

I don’t know what they will do to anyone else, or the city itself if I’m not there. I hate it, but it’s the only way I know to protect everyone. 

They looked at Hero to continue.

I knew it was bad not long after our second anniversary, but by then Spouse was too dangerous. They need to be in jail, not only for me, but for everyone else they’ve hurt. I just don’t know anyone who can take them. 

Villain made a noise, but Hero raised a hand to silence them while they wrote more. 

In a way this is my ultimate sacrifice to protect my city.

“Hero,” Villain breathed. 

Henchman looked like they had tears in their eyes, “Hero, I’m going to hug you now if that’s alright.” 

Hero looked at Henchman quizzically, but nodded. 

Henchman wrapped their arms around Hero carefully and squeezed with a force that was both powerful, yet calming. 

“You really are the best the city’s ever seen,” Henchman spoke against Hero’s hair. “All this time you’ve been living in hell and it was to protect all of us.” 

Hero released more tears. They patted Henchman awkwardly on the back. 

“They’ve always been a hugger,” Villain chuckled as they watched the scene. “If you can’t tell, Henchman has been a fan of yours for a while.”

Henchman released them with an undignified HEY at Villain. Villain shrugged and turned their attention back to Hero. 

“Hero, I don’t care what danger it might put us in. I knew this was going to be messy the moment I saw you on the roof. Anyone who can take you on is going to be a threat. I knew that and helped you anyway.” 

Hero nodded at Villain’s words. 

“But what I need to know now is who Spouse really is. I don’t think I’m far off in thinking that they’re a part of the hero agency?” 

Hero nodded, there was hesitation in their eyes.

“And they’re more powerful than the other heroes.” 

Hero looked down, but nodded again. 

“And you two went to the academy at the same time didn’t you?” 

Hero winced and nodded. 

“And came to the city at the same time.” 

Hero closed their eyes and nodded. 

“Villain, what are you getting at?” Henchman asked slowly. In their voice Hero could tell they were on the same train of thought, but didn’t want to believe it. 

“Hero,” Villain waited for Hero ‘s red rimmed eyes to look up and meet their gaze. “You’re married to Superhero aren't you?” 

Hero nodded. 

“Shit.” Henchman said. 

Hero nodded their agreement. 

There was silence while everyone processed the news, Villain and Henchman the knowledge and Hero for sharing it. Finally Villain broke it. 

“Well,” they clapped their hands together, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Tonight we do nothing.”

“Hero, tonight I want you to focus on yourself. I know you want to look at your phone, but maybe hold off until tomorrow morning, yeah?” Hero made to protest, but Villain continued. 

“Look at it like this. You said this is how you protect the city. Now I don’t doubt that, especially knowing who Spouse is; but I want you to picture it like you're on a sinking ship. Lots of people need saving, but you can’t exactly help them into the lifeboats if you yourself are still in the water.” 

Hero wrinkled their eyebrows. 

“You’ve got to climb into the lifeboat first before you can pull anyone else in.” 

Hero was taken aback. That was…that was…really good advice. 

Villain smiled, “So for tonight, leave the phone and get some rest. We can make a plan tomorrow about what to do. You’re no longer in this alone. I don’t want someone like Spouse protecting my city.” 

“You’re not alone in this anymore,” Villain reiterated. 

Hero couldn’t help the smile on their lips or the hope in their chest. They weren’t alone in this. Perhaps this time, Superhero really could be caught. Hero could stop pretending. They suddenly felt so tired.

Seeing this, Henchman helped Hero lay down and placed the thin, long ice pack on their bruised neck.  

“I’ll stay here a while, there’s an all night Friends marathon on right now,” Henchman nodded to the TV on the wall, “I always fall asleep during that show.” 

Hero knew Henchman just wanted to keep an eye on them in case their throat swelled anymore, but they appreciated the company. It had been a while since they had people around them that knew everything and still wanted to be with them. They nodded. 

“Great,” Henchman walked over to the television to get it started. Villain followed them. 

“Once they fall asleep initiate plan orange,” Villain whispered so Hero wouldn’t hear. Henchman kept flipping through channels, but Villain saw their eyes harden a moment. 

“Are you sure?” They whispered back. 

Villain nodded as they looked at the channel guide.“Yes. Tell Supervillain we have a mutual enemy,” Villain glanced back at Hero, “And the key to defeat them. Once and for all.”