#also i apologize to the author of these books who started following me because of the this cat is gay roup post. hi. sorry... thank you?

[bookshelfpassageway]

me, rereading Hunters Unlucky: wow it's so cool these are clearly animals and different from us and could not even comprehend us

me, on my furry hell spiral: draw redwall au anthro ferryshaft i wanna see Coden and Arcove fight with swords and cool cloaks and crowns

[httpsserene]

Gosh please please please can you write something daniel x reader maybe inspired by too sweet by hozier when he thinks(some internal turmoil cuz he can't stay away from her) she's too sweet/innocent for him or something like but it turns out to be further from the truth?? I love love love your writing, i think about please's and thank you's at least three times a day since i read it. You're so immensely talented!!!

I'd really really appreciate it.

(i don't mind age gap(like up to 10years), some kinky smut or even a bit of morally grey characters as long as there are no explicit mentions of past relationships or cheating and etc., happy ending plss, and I won't mind if you add a pinch of "who did this to you")

Ly ly ly

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐓𝐒𝐀

Summary: She’s too pure for him. She hasn’t been damaged by life like he has and he hopes you never will be. So, that’s why Daniel can never allow himself to be with her. He knows she’s convinced herself that she can fix him, but he knows that the longer he sticks around, the more he’s ruining her. He finds it cynical: their relationship (or lack of a relationship) reads like one of the books she’s obsessed with: right person wrong time or forbidden love. Daniel learns that it might be a little darker of a trope—like one of her books that she never allows him to see a page of. Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. implied sexual content. mild!yandere!reader. stalking. sabotage. angst with a happy ending. lando and max are here. not edited at all. mentioned alcoholism. pov switch. fights? idk danny gets his ass beat. possessive!reader. can you find the hozier inspo in here? probably. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader (black-coded? but not mentioned in the fic, i think) Word Count: 2.7k words.

Author’s Notes: okay! this is past me (6/11) hoping that the tumblr queue doesn’t do me dirty! this should be posted on thursday, because i won’t be able to manually post it on my own as i’ll be hiking in san diego the whole day :p

this was formatted on mobile so please ignore how ugly it looks :( and also ignore the ugly writing i’ve never written dark/morally gray characters so i’m pretty sure i did your request like terribly LMAO. um also i couldn’t find a way to write smut into it? so again i apologize for that :/

anyways, please bare with me. i’ll make it pretty when i get back to my computer…on sunday 🥴

prev 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

Daniel meets you in the elevator. At first, he thought you were a Formula One fan who snuck into the condo trying to get a glimpse of your favorite driver (himself, obviously) but, he learned that you’re his new next-door neighbor. It was awkward; he accused you of following him to his room and felt like the world’s worst person when you—dressed in the cutest pink dress and matching flowy bow tied in your hair—stared at him terrified, before you unlocked the door to your flat and slammed the door behind you quickly without a word.

He sent you a bouquet of pink orchids the next morning, along with a hand written card apologizing for his rude behavior and that he hoped the two of you could become good neighbors and friends. It seemed all was fixed, as the next time he ran into you, you greeted him softly, like nothing had happened. It was 5 A.M: you were starting your day and Daniel was ending his night.

Daniel was on his third drunken attempt of shoving his key vaguely in the direction of his lock on the door, when you exited your flat with a yoga mat over your shoulder and a water bottle that was comically large. With a hushed ‘good morning,’ you kindly helped Daniel into his apartment, telling him to drink a big glass of water and have pain killers ready when he wakes up; there was no judgment in your wide brown eyes, only tenderness, and a slight hint of worry. He woke up after twelve at the sound of a knock, his head pulsing with pressure and his sight slightly blurry from not quite sleeping all the drunk away.

He eventually made it to his front door and found that you ordered him lunch: a chicken wrap and sweet potato chips, from one of his favorite brunch cafés—Daniel figured you have good taste, as he doesn’t recall ever telling you about this meal in either of the two interactions you’ve had. So, he ate, drank plenty of water, freshened up, and debated if he should go over and express his gratitude, or whatever. He decided he will, and found himself putting on a nice watch and a few too many sprays of his expensive smelling cologne. Daniel didn’t let any thoughts of why he was prettying himself up cross his mind; he’s simply thanking you; a girl far too young, and probably far too sweet for his tastes.

You brushed off his thanks shyly, hidden behind your door with a blush strong enough Daniel saw it paint your dimpled cheeks and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away. Thinking quick enough to rival his reflexes, he offered to exchange phone numbers so the two of you could meet up and he could buy you a coffee. You entered your name in his phone with a yellow heart next to it.

The coffee meet-up had to wait due to Daniel’s hectic schedule, yet the texting flourished. He initiated the beginning of your text thread the next day, mindlessly texting you about how he overheard Emilio (another neighbor) arguing with his wife on the phone; Daniel said she’s probably going to mail him divorce papers within the next week. You replied that it was mean to eavesdrop and gossip. Daniel followed up saying it’s not eavesdropping if said person was screaming into his phone in the hallway, and he wasn’t gossiping, he’s merely keeping you informed.

Daniel laughed in the middle of his motorhome listening to the voice message you sent four days later, eagerly telling him about how you saw Emilio in the lobby with a couple boxes and without a wedding ring on his finger.

It was a warm morning, when you and Daniel finally managed to meet for coffee. You scrunched your nose in distaste when he ordered plain black coffee; Daniel did the same when you ordered a drink that was mainly milk and sugar. Daniel chuckled when you claimed the amount of coffee in your drink had you wired for the rest of the day. He decided to let you believe that, and not inform you that it was most likely the sugar content that had you crashing hours later.

Daniel invited you over for burgers one night and you comment that his home looks like a mix of a “mojo dojo casa house” and a “minimalistic hell.” You gifted him a throw blanket and a potted plant the next day, and continued to text him reminders about watering it.

Around 10 P.M. on another night, he’s yelling at Max for cheating at fifa. Max laughed around the lip of his beer bottle before the two of them paused at the sound of a knock. Daniel checked the door and opened it to see you: fuzzy slippers, eye-mask on your forehead, bonnet, matching pajama set, and pout on your lips with a sleepy tilt to your eyebrows. He apologized for the noise and promised to quiet down. Daniel threatened to kick the Dutchman out when he teased him for having a “crush.” He doesn’t get crushes, he’s a grown man.

Daniel spends less time in night clubs and more time with you. You took him to sip and paint nights, pottery classes, hiking, even bookstores. You order him to not open any of the books he’s holding for you; Daniel tries to take a peek when you scan through one and you slam the book shut, saying it’s too dark for your liking. He doesn’t comment when you end up getting it (Daniel paid).

He kissed you in your apartment, halfway through Howl’s Moving Castle. He proceeded to tell you it was a mistake. You teared up when he said you were too pure for him, arguing back that you weren’t a child. The tears fell when Daniel claimed he’s too old for you, that he’d only hurt you. He returned to his apartment, figurative tail tucked between his legs, and heard you crying through the wall. He fell asleep hating himself.

Daniel distanced himself from you; he misses your shared adventures and condo gossip, but he never forgets to water your potted plant, even without your texts. He fell back into the clubs, bringing home various women but never manages to get them in bed due to various things going wrong. He gets stuck in the elevator with Stephanie who happened to claustrophobic for hours, locked in the stairwell with Sofia who sprains her ankle in five-inch heels, the fire-alarm interrupts him and Kiana just as he unlocks the door, and his kitchen sink burst when he lifted Laura on the counter.

He tries to console Laura, who runs from his flat in drenched clothes, and sees you staring at her in confusion from your doorway as she rushes past. Daniel apologizes for waking you again, and you shrug, ignoring his words, murmuring that he should call maintenance before he floods the entire floor and shutting your door in his face.

Your potted plant starts to wilt, no matter if Daniel moves it in or out of direct sunlight, if he waters it less or more, or if he changes the soil, or adds fertilizer. The universe has it out for Daniel.

He finds himself in an ultra-private lounge, dim-lighting, sultry piano, and dark decor enhancing his dramatics as he reveals how he ruined his life to Max, Lando, and the bartender who will be tipped handsomely for pretending to care. The piano fades to the end of the piece just as Daniel wraps up his lament.

“It sounds like you deserve it, honestly,” Max stated bluntly, Lando nodding agreeably at his side.

Daniel groans into his hands, lifting his head to say that he’s already aware of that, but freezes when he sees you rise from the seat of the piano. Your figure is snug within a floor length, backless, black dress, complemented with gold jewelry, and makeup that opposes your angelic nature. You bow your head slightly in the direction of the tables clapping at your performance, stumbling briefly when your eyes meet Daniel’s. You smile softly and begin to make your way over to him.

“Oh, fuck,” Daniel shrinks into his seat, as the other two drivers stare at him in confusion.

“Hi, neighbor,” you start airily, before turning to smile at Lando and Max, “Hello.”

“You didn’t tell me you worked here,” Daniel mentions.

“You never asked,” you narrow your eyes at him, before relaxing, “I also don’t work here—this is my brother’s bar. The pianist suddenly fell sick and I offered to fill in.”

“Oh,” Daniel hums, “This doesn’t seem like your type of scene.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, “You should know better than to tell me where, what, or who I do or do not belong with.”

“Okay!” Lando claps, kicking Daniel’s shin under the table, everyone ignores his muffled groan of pain, “Sit with us for a minute, if you can take a break. Danny is seriously obsessed with you.”

You take the offered chair next to Max and sigh, “Really? I couldn’t tell,” all three men wince at your dig, but you continue, “Did he tell you that he almost flooded the entire floor last week?”

Daniel watches as you charm his friends, the three of you chattering happily over his demise, and ignoring him as you do so. He can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, only thankful, as this is the first time in weeks that you’ve been in his presence for more than five minutes. You smell so good. Is that weird of Daniel to think?

Unfortunately, the four of you are interrupted far too soon. Your brother calls you over from behind the bar; his expression is less than pleased, jaw tensed with irritation, and Daniel thinks the look in his eyes has a hint of crazy. He wonders if you told your brother about him. Hopefully not—the man looks like he could fold Daniel like a lawn chair without breaking a sweat. The three men watch as you argue with your brother; it doesn’t seem like it’s going in your favor.

Lando calls Daniel’s name, “Mate—she’s good for you.”

“Nah, mate. I’ll only ruin her.”

“Daniel,” Max scolds, “The few months you were ditching us for her were the happiest I’ve seen you. I wasn’t worried that you would be passed out in a random club or yacht after giving yourself alcohol poisoning.”

“She’s sweet, Danny. I think she’s exactly what you need,” Lando adds, “You've convinced yourself that you don’t deserve anything good. She’s trying to prove you wrong and you need to let her.”

He doesn’t answer verbally, he chooses to shake his head and remain silent. You make your way over to the table again and stand in front of them with a pout.

“It’s past my bedtime, apparently,” you huff, turning your head to glare at your brother, “Don’t worry about paying tonight, it’s on the house.” You exchange polite goodbyes with Lando and Max, Daniel gets a soft smile. He watches you leave the bar with a sad tilt to his lips, then orders a shot of whiskey.

You’re sat on your couch, freshly showered and ready for bed. It’s 1 A.M. and Daniel usually doesn’t end his nights out for another hour. So, it makes sense for you to be worried when you see his location nearing your shared condo building an hour early. Did you sneakily (his phone password is his birthday, it wasn’t that hard) use his phone and share his own location with you? Yes. But, you did it with good intentions. You worry about him when he’s not with you.

You decide to go down to the lobby and pretend to ask if you received any packages in hopes of intercepting Daniel when he walks in. You don’t manage to step out of the elevator when you suddenly have an armful of a bruised-up Australian. His lip is busted and you can see a bruise blooming high on his right cheekbone. You start to shake with anger.

Furiously pressing the button of your floor and slamming the ‘close door’ button, you frantically question Daniel, “What the hell? I left you not even two hours ago, and you look like a mess. Did you get into a fight, did you get mugged, did you—“

“Did your brother beat my ass for hurting you?” Daniel groans, not fighting your motions as you tug him out of the elevator and into your flat, “Yes, he did.”

You pause and grumble angrily, forcing Daniel to take a seat on your couch. You rush into your kitchen for ice, then to the bathroom for a first aid kit. He doesn’t fight when you order him to ice his cheek, and lets you hold his face to tilt his head at every angle possible, as if it’ll expose any more damage. Eventually, you end up looking into his eyes, pretending that you have the knowledge to know what a possible concussion looks like, even though you really just wanted an excuse to look at him.

Unconsciously, your thumb rubs soothingly along his temple, Daniel leans further into your hand. His tongue flicks out for a brief second, and he flinches when it disturbs the cut on his bottom lip. Blinking rapidly, you clear the haze from your eyes and frown as you turn to rifle through the first aid kit.

“I can’t believe he put his hands on you,” you bite out angrily, finding a disinfectant cloth to clean his lip, “I don’t know why I tell him anything anymore.”

Daniel winces at the sting of alcohol, remaining quiet as he watches the focus that covers your expression.

“I apologize for him,” you mumble, “He doesn’t think clearly when it comes to me, he thinks he’s like my guard dog or something,” you dispose of the wipe and grab an ointment, “I promise you I told him that the only thing you did was waste my time and hurt my feelings,” Daniel deflates under your hands, “It’s not like you physically hurt me…or anything. He’s just an idiot. I’ll kill him.”

At that, Daniel laughs quietly, dropping the ice from his cheek so you can clean that too, “Don’t say that. You’re such a sweetheart, you couldn’t hurt your own brother. Also—I’m not sure if he hoped this would make me stay away from you, because if you keep rubbing my face like that, I might fall in love.”

You hum, pleased you have him eating out of the palm of your hand, “Have some decorum, Daniel. You sound desperate. Also, he knows that I don’t like people touching what’s mine.”

“Oh? You’re possessive,” Daniel teases, “Is it bad if I kinda like that?”

Your heart flutters, he’s really the best for you. He doesn’t need to know about the lengths you went to ensure any of the girls he tried to bring home didn't make it into his bed. It's a shame Sofia sprained her ankle; that was not intentional on your part.

You shrug lightly, “No, it’s not bad. I think it makes you perfect for me. As long as you don’t mind a little crazy. And—don’t think you’re off the hook. You still have to apologize for making me cry.”

Daniel nods seriously, “I’ll fall to my knees and beg right now, if that’s what it takes.”

Sticking a plaster over his cheek, you stand and gesture for him to do so too, “Okay. Kneel.”

“Huh,” he chokes, eyes wide with disbelief, “You’re serious?”

“If you beg well enough, I’ll let you eat me out.”

The sound of his knees hitting the floor echoes.

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© httpsserene2024

[ineffableoutpost]

Steve Harrington on BookTok

Older Steve who downloads tik tok and begins to make book tok videos without ever having read much. Instead, he makes it like a collaborative book club where his followers suggest books and after he gives them his review.

At first people love him bc he’s this cute fifty year old man with glasses and a husband who was a famous metal star in the nineties and early 2000s. Then there are other people who give him the Pedro Pascal treatment of calling him “daddy” and thirsting for him. Steve shuts that down immediately.

The popular first request was the LOTR series and Steve has to apologize and say that his husband reads them to him and has been doing it for decades now.

Then comes Harry Potter and Steve is a little apprehensive because the author is a piece of shit. But he does read them and has a mini obsession over it.

Then he moves on to other books, and then the queer community of booktok finds him and begin requesting a bunch of queer books. Steve cries while reading The Song of Achilles, but loves it.

Then, they make him read a book full of smut, and Steve makes a video halfway through the book where he’s like;

“You guys are making me read porn!” You can clearly hear Eddie cackling in the background

- - -

Steve makes a special series where he and Eddie purposely read shity books and laugh along the way. (Colleen hover makes many appearances)

*reading about the two characters laughing at their baby’s balls*

Steve: *speechless*

Eddie: *speechless x2* and gay people are the problem?

They look at each other and burst out laughing

- - -

Steve making another series with Nancy and Robin where they look at how some male authors write female characters.

Nancy: *reading* her breasts jiggled excitedly as she descended the stairs

Robin: *laughing her ass off in lesbian*

Steve: *also laughing along*

Eddie: *pops his head into frame* I, for one can account this as true. Steve’s tits do jiggle excitedly

Eddie stitches the video with an old home movie where Steve is running down the stairs shirtless, and his tits do in fact jiggle

- - -

Steve makes a video with Eddie where Eddie explains how he annotated his books and shows his oldest copies of the hobbit and LOTR.

Then there’s a small clip of one of Steve’s annotations in one book and it says “slay”

Cut to Eddie laughing asking where Steve got that word from and how long he’s been using it secretly in his annotations.

- - -

Steve gets an opportunity to partner up with audible or some shit to make a small collection of his favorite books into a subscription bundle.

He’s so excited when he also starts seeing bookshops make a little table with a sign saying “Steve’s Favorites”

He’s so exited because reading and books was something he hated for so many years, but also something he managed to turn positive.

Some stores also display a “Steddie Favorites” with the LOTR series and some of Steve’s selected books.

[mo-nee-ta]

Rabbit Nabokov, Ruhenheim’s Konrad and Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin

Disclaimer: I haven’t read 20th Century Boys yet, so I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies (and you’re welcome to correct me!). I only wanted to take a look at the bizarre Rabbit Nabokov game.

I also haven’t read Nabokov’s translation of Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin, but I definitely plan to read it—at least fragments of it. 

Keep in mind that these are only notes on a heavy work in progress. You’ll find the TL;DR version at the end.

Rabbit Nabokov is a fictional high-stakes gambling card game invented by a character named Aleksandr Nabokov. 

The creator is a hybrid of two Russian authors: Aleksandr Pushkin and Vladimir Nabokov.

This isn’t the first time Urasawa used a real-world author’s name to create a fictional character; Monster introduced two characters named after one author: Karel Ranke and Petr Čapek.

So why is the fictional creator of a fictional gambling game named after two Russian authors?

For starters, card games are referenced in both Pushkin (The Queen of Spades) and Nabokov (King, Queen, Knave). 

But there’s something more interesting and of substance, and it’s about Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin, a milestone of Russian literature. Nabokov thought it was impossible to translate it faithfully while keeping the rhymes and he was dissapointed and disgusted with the already existing English translations of it (because he was a massive hater). 

So his partner-in-crime wife, Véra, suggested he should create his own translation of the sacred text.

And these were the beginnings of a work with the following title:

Yes, this should be treated as a full title, because this isn’t just a translation of Eugene Onegin. Most of the text here is not, as one might think, the translation of the poem itself, but Nabokov’s commentary.

The commentary that turned a book of around 350 pages into a beast of around 1850 pages (dare I say, Charles Kinbote style?). 

He also apologized for his own translation (!) in the form of a poem.

Taking all of this into account, one question arises: is this version of Eugene Onegin still only Pushkin’s work? Or did it evolve into its own thing?

Maybe we could say this is the work of Aleksandr Nabokov? 

So why did this Aleksandr Nabokov create a gambling game? One clue can be found in Nabokov’s response to Edmund Wilson (someone Nabokov corresponded with for years), who was critical of Nabokov’s translation:

What does [N.] mean when he speaks of Pushkin’s ‘addiction to stuss’? This is not an English word, and if he means the Hebrew word for nonsense, which has been absorbed into German, it ought to be italicized and capitalized. But even on this assumption it hardly makes sense.”

This is Mr. Wilson’s nonsense, not mine. “Stuss” is the English name of a card game which I discuss at length in my notes on Pushkin’s addiction to gambling. Mr. Wilson should have consulted my notes (and Webster’s dictionary) more carefully.

So here we have it: a card game and a gambling addiction. And it turns out that playing the game can turn into a scene that resembles your average discussion about Nabokov and/or his work.

Just to name one example with an adequate commentary:

The Eugene Onegin shenanigans don’t end with 20th Century Boys. They don’t even start here; they start with Monster.

Remember Konrad? The lingonberry jam-maker from Ruhenheim? Aren’t the lingonberries an oddly specific choice for a character from a far-away background?

Lingonberries are present in Eugene Onegin. 

In his commentary, Nabokov devotes more than one page to explaining why he translated the Russian word Brusnika into lingonberry and why the other translations of brusnichnaya voda were, to say the least, inaccurate. Lingonberries can be deceitful.

TL;DR: Nabokov explains the confusing nature of lingonberries, shows no mercy to his translation predecessors and expects his successors to do better.

Konrad has other traits that make him a suspiciously Nabokovian character. 

His birthday date seems to have some special powers:

Is he telling the truth or is he just making fun of Mrs. Heinich and her superstitions? Was it a mere coincidence that the numbers were a success? I guess we’ll never know!

This combines three things: the gambling, the coincidences and patterns, and the significant number. 

Coincidences and patterns are one of the most important motifs in Nabokov’s work. To quote Lolita: Those dazzling coincidences that logicians loathe and poets love.

While reading Nabokov’s works, it can be useful to pay attention to the numbers; for example, 342 is a recurring number in Lolita.

And the gambling? Deception is an inherent part of gambling; it was also something Nabokov was clearly fascinated with. 

Q: You say that reality is an intensely subjective matter, but in your books it seems to me that you seem to take an almost perverse delight in literary deception.

A: The fake move in a chess problem, the illusion of a solution or the conjuror's magic: I used to be a little conjuror when I was a boy. I loved doing simple tricks—turning water into wine, that kind of thing.

Literature is invention. Fiction is fiction. To call a story a true story is an insult to both art and truth. Every great writer is a great deceiver, but so is that arch-cheat Nature. Nature always deceives. From the simple deception of propagation to the prodigiously sophisticated illusion of protective colors in butterflies or birds, there is in Nature a marvelous system of spells and wiles. The writer of fiction only follows Nature’s lead.

And of course, his stories are full of (lonely, misunderstood, and often very dangerous) deceivers.  

But let’s get back to Konrad, a good friend of Mr. Poppe:

One of the first things you might learn about Nabokov is that he despised Freud. So much that the traces of the Viennese quack can be tracked in his books everywhere; for example, Lolita opens with a fictional foreword written by a fictional Freudian psychologist called John Ray (Jr.). 

Oh, I am not up to discussing again that figure of fun. He is not worthy of more attention than I have granted him  in  my novels  and  in Speak, Memory. Let the credulous and the vulgar continue to believe that all mental woes can be cured by a daily application of old Greek myths to their private parts. I really do not care.

Making the Nabokov-coded character friends with someone who turned into a Freud-lookalike in his old days (and who’s Monster’s greatest deceiver and a very Nabokovian character himself)? Letting them play Nabokov’s beloved chess? 

It’s like using Nabokov’s tricks against him, which is hilarious.

Another fun fact about Nabokov: he loved annagrams and wordplay. For example, he inserted himself into Lolita using an anagram of his name, Vivian Darkbloom (of course the anagram of Nabokov’s name would be a dramatic and fabulous one; come on, it sounds like a draq queen name). 

And while this is only partially an anagram, it’s still interesting that you can take some letters from Vladimir Nabokov to create a Konrad.

His corpse also looks to me like a middle-aged Nabokov, but since I’m biased as hell, I’ll leave it to your interpretation.

All the examples are something I thought about earlier but wasn’t sure enough to post it anywhere; the lingonberry seemed too general, the anagram wasn’t a full one, and the birthdate was the most suspicious thing to me, but still not enough to share it.

But the obscure Aleksandr Nabokov and his gambling card game are a very solid clue that binds it all together.

And since we’re talking about deceivers and translations, let me add a small easter egg: please get back to the The Secret Woods episode, pay close attention to Edmund ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡° ) Fahren, his suicide note, and see if there’s something possibly wrong with the translation of the passage found by Richard Braun.

TL;DR: 

The gambling card game Rabbit Nabokov was created by a fictional man called Aleksandr Nabokov; Aleksandr is Pushkin’s first name. Nabokov is Vladimir’s last name. 

Both Pushkin and Nabokov have referenced gaming cards in their works. 

Nabokov translated Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin into English because he was deeply unsatisfied with the earlier translations. One of Nabokov’s many comments is about Pushkin’s gambling addiction and a card game. 

Nabokov’s translation isn’t just a translation; it’s full of comments that turn it into its own thing, which can explain the hybrid that is Aleksandr Nabokov. 

Ruhenheim’s Konrad is the real monster of Monster (besides Naoki Urasawa and his collaborator and editor Takashi Nagasaki), and I love him dearly. 

[demarogue]

Gunna say something and it’s not gunna be as gracious and measured as what some of my friends have said.

This is a message for the ship warriors of ACOTAR. It applies more broadly but this is honestly the most toxic dysfunctional fandom I have ever had the pleasure(???) of participating in, so it’s mostly for this one.

You all need to get a fucking grip.

These characters are not real. The world SJM has created is not real. I love the books as much as anyone can, I have reread them many times and they are my preferred escapism when I’m having a shitty time but it is just that — escapism.

You know who IS real? The fanfic author you’re dragging. That’s a real person. The artist who made a picture of a ship or a character you don’t like is a real person. The other fans who have theories you don’t like or opinions you disagree with are real people. (The author herself is also a real person, though I suspect that statement might get me dragged. This isn’t really about her, though.)

If someone is unable to remember which of these things are imaginary and which are real, and uses their fandom presence to genuinely hurt a REAL PERSON because they disagree with them about a ship — that’s shitty, toxic behavior. That’s not neutral behavior. I hope people in this fandom start blocking those folks en masse because they need to lose their followings. I’m gunna go a step further and say that if you continue to follow/support people who are doing this, that’s not neutral behavior either.

Apologies really don’t mean anything if the behavior continues.

I made a space (on discord) that is zero drama because the way this fandom operates on tumblr and tiktok and the bird website is atrocious. I did that specifically so I can kick people out if they cannot treat others with respect. If you want to come hang, you can dm me (I’m not posting the link publicy again because I’m not interested in playing whack-a-mole with trolls). It’s 18+ only, for ethical reasons.

I will not be entertaining excuses and devil’s advocates and he-said-she-saids about the situation I’m referring to. If it reminds you of something, it probably applies. If you were involved, I hope you make actual amends to the person you hurt. And I hope everyone across fandoms gets their act together for 2023.

It’s supposed to be fun, y’all. It’s supposed to be joyful.

[goldie90]

Because it seems like it needs to be said...

First, this is going to be quite long, so my apologies in advance, but I think it is important to address and explain these things and there is simply no way to make it shorter.

Since over the past week, the same person who has been bad mouthing me since february 2023 (as already mentioned here: Goldie — In relation to this post: I know I've already...), apparently felt the need to dig up things from the past again (including old screenshots which funny enough have never been a secret to begin with), I feel like I might should elaborate a few things.

First things first: As already mentioned before, the whole thing started back in february 2023. At this time me and this person used to be mutuals and although we didn't interact much (just a few asks here and there etc.) the few interactions we had have always been positive.

Now some of you maybe know that around this time a certain pc game named Hogwarts Legacy was released and some people were posting about it, sharing their first impressions of the game, sharing screenshots etc. And for me who has been a fan of the Harry Potter franchise since childhood, those were interesting news - not because I wanted to buy or play said game, I'm not playing video games except for sometimes The Sims when I feel like it, but simply for the nostalgia it gave me. You know, I read the first HP book back when it came out in 1998, I was 8 years old at this time and I didn't like to read, I didn't like it at all. But then I read this book and it changed little me's opinion about books forever because I truly enjoyed it, so of course when the following books of the series came out, I read them as well, just like I watched all the movies (which back then was especially fun because just like everyone my age, I had the benefit of being the same age as the characters). So yeah, I think you can see why seeing the screenshots of the game felt nice and so it happened that I reblogged some of them, simply for the nostalgia. I didn't know back then that the author of HP (Joanne K. Rowling) was (and still is) engaging in very discriminatory behavior towards trans people, as I have never been on twitter (which as I learned later is apparently her number 1 platform to spread her harmful opinions) and I'm also not someone who keeps up to date with celebrity gossip, because that's simply not something I'm interested in.

So I had no idea and because of this I was very surprised and confused when shortly after reblogging the Hogwarts Legacy pictures, I received a very rude ask in which someone was demanding that I tag posts related to this game, claiming that it was "transphobic" and "antisemitic", as well as some insults directed at the author of HP. This ask was on anon, it was not signed in any way, nothing. Therefore I had no idea who sent it. All I knew was that this situation (receiving a rude anon like this) brought back bad memories because only a few months before I had a similar thing happening when an anti sent me an anon ask, demanding a nsfw tag for a slightly suggestive selfship post of mine and how me responding to it back then, resulted in being harassed for 5 days straight by antis. I didn't want something like this to happen again, so instead of answering the ask, I deleted it and made a short info post for my followers in which I asked them to please don't send me asks demanding specific tags for my posts/reblogs, and that if someone doesn't like the content on my blog, they could just unfollow and/or block me.

The next day when I logged into tumblr, I was basically greeted with a bitchy post from said mutual on my dash, complaining about me not answering their ask as well as about the info post I made instead, which was how I even found out that it was them who sent me the ask. Apparently they didn't thought I would see their post since back then, their selfship blog was a sideblog and so while they apparently blocked me on their main after reading my post, they forgot to block me on their sideblog as well and their bitch-post about me showed up on my dash. And now I made a stupid mistake, annoyed by their behavior, the rude ask, the public complaining about me, I reblogged their post and commented it with "Oh okay, now I know who the idiot in my inbox was" That was unnecessary and I shouldn't have done this, but right in this moment I wasn't thinking much of it, especially since I already wasn't in the best state of mind at this time due to other reasons (the situation with the antis mentioned above, a fallout with my best friend, as well as my late grandfather's death of cancer only two months before). Short: I wasn't doing well at all and I guess that's why I simply didn't have the patience for something like this on top of everything else. Of course that's not an excuse, but that's how it was and I won't pretend otherwise.

Either way, this little incident between me and this person would have been nothing more than exactly this - a little incident - if it was up to me. You know, something that might annoys you for a little moment, but then you shrug it off and move on. Little did I know that this was just the beginning of a much bigger issue. This user spent the rest of this day with making multiple bitch posts about me, freaking out way more than what would have been reasonable for this kind of situation and then a few days later they started their slander campaign against me, spreading rumors about me being a "transphobe" and "ableist" (the latter apparently because during our disagreement I said that if they freak out like this because of a picture of a castle and some landscapes, they probably got some bigger issues to work on), which resulted in people harassing and attacking me repeatedly, anons flooding my ask box with insults, calling me a "transphobe", a "terf", a "bitch" a "cunt", telling me I deserve to die, that I should kill myself etc. Let me tell you, it was no fun.

But I gotta be honest, I didn't made it better because since they kept bringing up HP / JK, acting like enjoying the franchise I grew up with was suddenly a crime - all of this without ever showing me any proof of their accusations against the author - I simply decided to react in a spiteful way by purposefully reblogging posts about not only Harry Potter, but also the author, fully convinced that she - the person who created this amazing story - would never engage in the kind of behavior those people were accusing her of. After all it goes against everything she wrote in her books....

So for the next weeks it kept going on like this - for every hate anon I received, I would reblog more posts about her, kinda as a big "F*ck you" towards the people harassing me. Then one day when I reblogged another post from a person expressing their support for JK, it happened that the op started to follow me and after a few interactions I followed back. A couple more interactions and he DM'ed me, started a conversation with me and for the first time since my fallout with my ex friend (more to this later), the thought of someone new trying to become friends with me didn't felt scaring to me. There was something about him I can't quite explain but it made me feel safe and comforted and so me and him became friends rather quickly and although I saw the red flags (they were hard to miss ngl) I ignored them, grateful to finally have someone around on this website again who was nice to me, someone who was there for me through this situation and who protected me, or so he said....

He started to openly attack people who would give me trouble or say something bad about me, which of course only made things worse and I asked him repeatedly not to do this, to just let it be but it always resulted in him either ignoring my words, or agreeing just to go right back to it 1 - 2 days later, always emphasizing that he was just "trying to protect me" which put me in a situation where I felt like I owed him something, so I started to make open excuses for his behavior, backing him up no matter what he said or did and just displaying my loyality to him since I knew that's what he expected from me. During this time, he would also target the ex mutual who had started the rumors that caused the whole mess in the first place a few times and because of the trouble I had to endure thanks to this person in the past, I was more than happy to join in, viewing it as some kind of "payback". I'm not proud of this, yet it happened and I would never deny it.

Things got really bad and of course our behavior only provoked the previous harassment I had to endure to escalate even more and at some point someone even made a whole blog about us, screenshoting our posts etc. This went on until one day my friend decided to write a public apology to the people he attacked during this time, to end this whole mess and make people leave the two of us alone.

From there on things finally improved, we parted ways one month later and another month later my ex friend @moss-selfship who couldn't be more different from him came back into my life and it was also him who, when I asked him about it, showed me actual proof for JK's harmful behavior, which was a very shocking and disappointing thing for me to see and of course, it led to me deleting everything I ever reblogged about her, as I'm not willing to support this woman in any way and I feel stupid and ashamed for ever doing so.😦 I also deleted every interaction with this former friend, as well as every other memory of this time, not to hide anything (as the ex mutual mentioned above was accusing me of lately) but simply because I don't want to have these things on my blog, since they were part of a very bad chapter of my life I don't want to have anything to do with anymore. Yet I never tried to pretend it didn't happen and I never would. The blog which was screenshoting all these things back then does still exist until this day and as you will see here, it was also where this person took the screenshots from when they tried to call me out about these old things a few days ago:

Just like they also decided to bring up the old fight between me and @moss-selfship to make distasteful comments about it, although this is something that's not only between us but also something we fixed and left behind us long ago

(Details can be found here: Goldie — As my friend already said (and as you can see here...)

As you already know, I did apologize to this person months ago, with help from my dear friend @moss-selfship who was the one who reached out to them and back then they promised to them that they would stop messaging people to as they like to call it "warn" them of me, but they didn't. From february 2023 when me and them had this "tag disagreement" until this day they kept slandering me and yes it is slandering since the "Goldie is a transphobe" lie they keep clinging to, has never been true at all. Same goes for the accusation of me being ableist, as well as some other things they said.

I spent the whole past year trying to make up for my previous mistakes and working on myself, trying to be a better person but thanks to this person it never stopped being very hard to just having fun on here and enjoying interactions etc. as they would always keep seeking out people I was interacting with to badmouth me, but you already know this from the post linked at the very top of this post here, so there is no need to elaborate this any further.

The only thing I wanted to make clear here is that:

The things they tried to present as something new, are things that happened long ago.

They have never been a secret to begin with, as the "phantom blog" has always been there, freely accessible for everyone.

I never tried to deny them in any way and I never would.

And this is all I have to say about this matter. If you read till there, thank you for taking the time and again, my apologies for it being so long. If you have any more questions about the things showed here, be it the old screenshots you can find on this blog or anything else, please do not hesitate to DM me and I will happily answer your questions.

Have a nice day.💖

[ennead-of-whump]

Psych Whump Masterlist

💉💉💉

This is going to be my go-to list every time I find something with medical or psych whump in it that I want to remember. I'll reblog it frequently and try to keep it updated but it's going to start small because good psych whump is so hard to find. (This in no way endorses medical abuse, I'm a mentally ill individual but I love consuming psych whump in media. Just about everything in these movies, books, etc are at the very least morally gray so consume at your own risk. Also, I only enjoy these things in fiction. Irl it makes me sick to my stomach, I know bc I've experienced some of this.) I'll try to add trigger warnings for each one but I might miss some so I apologize in advance. If you have any recommendations please message me! I'm scouring the internet for good psych whump but medical/sickfic whump is also wanted.

Movies:

A Cure For Wellness: Guy gets tricked into becoming a patient at a "resort" that's really a mental hospital in disguise that uses its patients for nefarious means. CW: incest, medical abuse, teeth falling out, sexual assault, some weird eel shit ^^There's probably more but I haven't watched the film in a while.

TV Shows:

Moon Knight: Whole season of psych whump, the main character has DID and loads of past trauma. Has a huge ancient Egypt theme and the MC gets (kind of) forced to accept psychiatric care. CW: lots of ableism, mental break, psychotic episodes, forced institutionalisation, child abuse, restraints

Books:

House of Leaves: This book is a fever trip but the MC (kind of?? The book has multiple authors, it's honestly very confusing but it's great) suffers from declining mental health and spirals hard. CW: child abuse, lots of sexual content, mentions of a caretaker beating a child, mentions/delusions of sexual assault, death of a dog (it was brutal, huge warning), mentions/descriptions of suicide and attempted murder

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: This is chock-full of psych and medical whump, it all takes place in a psychiatric hospital (I've actually been to the one in the film! -Not as a patient) CW: huge amounts of abuse from staff, doctors, nurses, there's also a scene where SA is implied on a patient, the MC is there after being convicted of SA'ing a minor and he's pretty unremorseful (the MC is a dick though anyways), racism, ableism

OG Works (not mine):

Redwood Psychiatric Insitute: Forced institutionalization, great read and it has just about every trope I look for in fics all packed into one series. Please give it a read, it's fantastic. Source - https://www.tumblr.com/only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are/706656298337435648/redwood-psychiatric-institute-masterlist?source=share by @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are

Fanfiction:

Into Your Arms: This is a Star Trek fanfic that follows a girl who has a severe eating disorder and mental illness. It's not the normal kind of sickfic or psych whump I go for but the aftercare in this is topnotch. Source - https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185897 by moose-misses-sweets on ao3 CW: suicide attempt, severe eating disorder, abusive partner, cutting/self harm

Note: If something you made is on this list and you want me to remove it, please message me and I will. I don't check messages very often but it doesn't mean I'm ignoring you, I just forget I have a tumblr sometimes.)

This has now been moved to @caspers-delusions which is my main blog. I'll be updating the post from there

[petewentzisblack1312]

question coming from also a third world supremacist (i think?) figuring out political ideology: how did you form yours?? i think i remember you saying you used to go off of empathy before forming a more solid worldview and i'd wanna know how to start that. apologies if i'm completely off base and you didn't say that in that case it's just nice to follow someone who's not from a first world country thank you for that

sorry this is quite meandering. i dont have a clear cut answer of a specific turning point, its just been a journey of learning ive been on as ive come of age. as for how to go about doing it yourself, id say to stay curious, but also stay skeptical. learn about the patterns that repeat in history- the way outsiders are blamed for problems, the way the world tends towards complicated answers, the fact that things are more often implicit than intentional- and be wary of them when you are confronted with an answer. remember that 'common sense' is not an edict passed on by god, its the culmination of a lot of decisions, some made with ulterior moments, so interrogate who benefits from you believing certain things that 'everyone knows'. and try to get some bearing on the theory behind certain philosophies and modes of thought. it could be a video essay, if you just need to get your foot in the door. my mentor is wary of documentaries and video essays because he thinks they can lie to you easily, but a book can do that too, especially if you think it cant! still, the audiovisual language is very easy to take at face value, and its more difficult to assess the legitimacy of a youtube video or documentary than it is with a book thats been cited by other authors a lot.

anyway, my own journey. i did in fact say my ideology is founded on empathy first and foremost. i was already pretty left leaning (but without a framework, just very 'live and let live') at that point but one of my teachers in secondary school (who ive known since my sister went to that same secondary school over 10 years prior) (hes the guy i call math dad occasionally) used the times allotted for christian education and christian family life education which were basically free periods during which were supervised by our homeroom teachers (though its not really supposed to be that) to teach the basics of anarchist philosophy (like what can or should be considered violence) to our class, and i was really engaged in that framework. there were only two people in the class who were interested in that myself included so he eventually stopped but hes always been something of a guide to my beliefs, and this introduced me to anarchism as a philosophy.

i have to say what radicalized me beyond just my love of my fellow human was curiosity. i wanted to know why the caribbean is poor. i wanted to know why certain people are mistreated. i wanted to understand racism. and it was a gradual process for me but eventually i learned that pretty much all real bigotries are systemic, but i didnt fully understand why those systems were in place until i started to understand the 'flaws' inherent to capitalism, or rather, the way its supposed to work. all these systemic injustices are in service of capitalism.

i was still quite imperial centric until fairly recently in my life though, id say like the past 5-7 years ive become more and more critical of modern empire and more disillusioned with its manifestation worldwide and as you might imagine especially in the caribbean. i hate tourism now, while it tends to be something both major parties invest in to some degree (its the liberal position). while im a little less superficially patriotic than the average st lucian, im very invested in our politics, though i find it difficult to navigate as a lay person for a myriad of reasons that frustrate me. as much as i have opinions on politics and policy, im not an economist or political scientist or commentator and have auditory processing issues that make it just hard enough to sit and watch parliamentary debates and things like that that i dont.

i would be remiss if i didnt shoutout the tumblr community for also informing my politics. ive been introduced to all sorts of people and all sorts of problems and all sorts of ideas by being on this website for as long as i have, and listening and learning and looking into things myself.

[slytherheign]

WORTH THE PAIN | tasm!peter parker

PART 4/5 OF WORTH: THE SERIES.

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

SUMMARY: trusts are broken and tensions rise as everyone’s secrets start to reveal themselves.

WARNINGS: sexual assault, character death, manipulation, stalking, cursing, violence, and canon-typical injuries. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 17+]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: please remember that this is fan fiction and so some characters here will not act exactly the same way as their original material. this is my own twist and take of those characters.

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

"Peter, please calm down,” Charlene pleaded with worry evident in her tone.

To say that the apartment was a mess would be an understatement. 

Peter spent the last 15 minutes frantically trying to find his missing phone while Charlene tried to calm him down. Carlos merely stared at the mess, completely frozen. It was the first time the couple had seen Peter like this. And him crawling around the place with his spider-like abilities made the situation more intense.  

“Oh, for the love of Go–PETER!” she bellowed. Peter stopped for a moment, glancing at her before going back to making a mess. Charlene had enough; she knew Peter was not in his right state of mind, and panicking would not help them make any progress on the case. She slightly nudged Carlos for help, but her partner was glued to his place, still shocked by the sudden change in Peter’s behavior. 

And to think that all it took was a name for Peter to behave like this.

“Peter, please,” she tried once again. “We can’t draw conclusions immediately. I know you’re really worried about her right now, but we have to be smart about all of this.”

Carlos seemed to be back on track. “She’s right. Come on, Parker. Let’s talk about what you know first, and then we’ll worry about your phone later, okay?”

Peter stopped all at once, drawing a long, shaky sigh. They were right. He had to calm down. He turned around, facing the couple, only to see them staring at what was once their living room. Confused, he followed their line of vision only to see the chaotic result of his trance earlier.

Every single cabinet door was open, with the stuff inside disorganized. The center table, its centerpiece, and the books Charlene kept under it were also not spared. And the couch… well… the pillows were out of their pillowcases, which were now on the floor along with the cushions. To keep things short, the room was not looking good.

“Shit–sorry,” he apologized, feeling embarrassed. How could he let himself act like that?

“We’ll fix it later,” Charlene reassured him. Peter looked at her like she had grown a second head. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she smiled, a hint of sadness in her voice that did not go unnoticed by her husband. Carlos knew damn well why Charlene was so kind and understanding to Peter, and it made him feel a little sad for his wife. “So, what do you know?” she asked Peter.

“Y/N works at a marketing company, and she once mentioned her HR manager was named ‘Mitch.’ If I’m correct, Mitch is Mitchell Gargan, who just happens to work at Greta Marketing Co.”

“That makes sense. But again, he’s innocent until proven guilty. We need proof that it’s really him. Besides, there’s also his twin… Mac Gargan. MG could be him,” Carlos added.

“Where’s Mitch now?” Charlene asked.

“I don’t know,” Peter’s shoulders slumped. He was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t much help to them. He desperately wanted to help more, but even his knowledge was limited. And because the case was extremely personal to him, he wasn’t exactly the best person to lead the team. He was left with one last option now: to let Charlene and Carlos lead the entire thing.

“Then let’s start with who we know. Mac Gargan. You said he was hired by Jonah Jameson, right?” Carlos asked.

He nodded. “A private investigator hired to inspect me. But I have no idea where he is now.”

“That may be true,” Charlene started to think of another way, “but we know where Jameson is.”

“There we go. A starting point,” Carlos agreed. “Let’s start planning.”

DAYS LATER.

“I still have no idea how we got past the guards so fast,” Carlos mumbled. The three were walking down the hallways inside the Daily Bugle building.

“We’re in New York. People don’t really care about you as long as you look decent. Plus, the fake IDs helped a lot, too,” Charlene retorted. The married pair wore security guard outfits, their fake IDs stapled on the chest pockets. 

“Remember the plan,” Peter reminded them. He was wearing his usual outfit with glasses and his camera. He didn’t need to wear a disguise. He had worked here before as a photographer, and some people still recognized him enough to let him in. He brought a fake ID, too—an edited and updated one to make it seem that the company decided to hire him again.

The plan was simple. Carlos would look out from the first floor, round the halls, and check the people who got in and out from the entrance. They had memorized Mac’s face before leaving the apartment, and Carlos was in charge of checking if that particular face entered or left the building. Charlene would accompany Peter to the 7th floor, but she would stay outside Jameson’s office, looking out for whoever or whatever hindered their plan. Lastly, Peter would enter Jameson’s office, ask him where Mac Gargan was, and leave once it was answered. He hoped there would not be a need for interrogation or threats but only a simple answer to their simple question.

However, Peter and the word ‘simple’ never had a good relationship. Jameson did not care that Peter was in the room. In fact, he mindlessly believed Peter’s story and didn’t even get suspicious that the company decided to hire him back. But as soon as Peter asked the question, Jameson was quick to reach towards the telephone and call security, only for Peter to grab it first and cut the wires with the scissors he found atop his desk.

“Do you know where Mac Gargan is?” he repeated.

Silence.

Jameson suddenly stood up and decided to run out of his office, yelling for security to get Peter out of the building. Unfortunately for him, Charlene was waiting on the other side and caught him before he could even get past the door. She pushed the man back inside the room; this time, she stayed inside the room and decided to join Peter in handling him.

Once Jameson knew that he had no chance against the tough woman, he stopped resisting and faced Peter—only to see that it was now the Spider-Man in front of him. Unbeknownst to them, when Charlene was struggling to get Jameson back inside the room, Peter took the opportunity to put the Spider-Man suit on. If being Peter was not intimidating enough for him to answer, then he was sure that being Spider-Man would do just the job. He wasn’t scared that Jameson knew his identity now because the information he had on Jameson relating to Scorpion would threaten him enough not to speak about his real identity to the media.

“You’re Spider-Ma—” Jameson could not believe that the answer to the mystery he had been trying to solve for years was right in front of him. It made sense to him now. The reason Peter had so many interesting shots of Spider-Man was because they were one.

“Look, I’m not gonna repeat this again,” Peter started slowly, “where the fuck is Mac Gargan?”

Jameson was scrambling through his mind on ideas how to escape the man in front of him. It was evident that he was feeling uneasy. It seemed that the mere thought of Spider-Man knowing that he had something to do with Scorpion was intimidating him. 

“I have no idea who Mac Gargan is,” he tried to play dumb, but Peter had enough of his bullshit.

“C’mon, man,” he scoffed. “We all know that’s bullshit. Remember when you hired him to investigate me before?”

Silence.

“Alright. Let’s change the question, then. Where the fuck is Scorpion?” he was staring daggers at the man. If looks could kill, Jameson would already be buried 6 feet underground right at the moment.

“What do you want?” 

“For you to let us know where Scorpion is. It’s really that simple.”

“I don’t know,” he stepped backwards as soon as he saw Peter grabbing the scissors again.

“You don’t know?” Peter mocked him, walking towards him at a slow but threatening pace. “Really?”

Carlos, on the other hand, realized that he was not making progress just walking down the halls and looking at people’s faces. He decided to go against the plan and went straight to the room where they monitored the cameras in and out of the building. Thank God that he did though, because as soon as he entered the room, he saw a glimpse of his wife and Peter in his suit at Jameson’s room interrogating the man. He had to do something and act on this fast, but the problem was two guards were monitoring the cameras. Thankfully, one was sleeping, and the other was distracted by playing Candy Crush on his cell phone. It wasn’t hard for him to convince them to leave the room.

“Hey, man! Why don’t you all rest for a bit? I think I saw a couch there outside. I’ll go watch over these,” Carlos suggested happily.

“Are you sure? Wait—I haven’t seen you before,” one guard stopped in his tracks.

“Oh! I forgot to introduce myself,” he replied. “I’m new here, sorry–I just noticed you getting bored and your friend here sleeping and thought you might want some rest, you know? I’m Carl, by the way,” he smiled.

“Well, Carl,” the guard tapped his shoulder, “we’ll accept that offer. I’m Chip,” Chip nudged his friend to wake him up, “Dale, let’s go.”

Carlos smiled while the two left the room, muttering ‘thanks’ on their way out. As soon as they left, he wasted no time and manipulated the footage. This was all he could do for now, deleting and manipulating all footage of the three of them being suspicious. He prayed Peter and his wife would be done the moment Chip and Dale returned.

Jameson still managed to stand his ground despite being terrified of him, but Peter knew he would soon break. “So?” he taunted, playing with the scissors by spinning them around his finger.

They soon played a staring game that neither wanted to lose. That was until Peter threw the scissors just inches above his head, and Jameson finally broke. “Wa-wait! Fine! Mac is in my basement. He’s staying at my house. I-in the b-basement,” Jameson had his two hands up in surrender.

“I have a feeling that’s not the only thing you know,” Peter pushed. Jameson stared at him—almost begging. But Peter had no intentions of backing down. He flicked his hands, webbing the door handle and the windows shut. If it wasn’t clear to Jonah before that there won’t be any chance of escaping the circumstance, it was clear as air to him now. “Okay! Okay! I’ll tell you everything when w-we get t-there,” he bargained. 

“Lead the way,” said Charlene as she cleaned up the webs Peter had so graciously put on almost everything. Meanwhile, Peter took the opportunity to put away the suit and dress as an employee yet again. On the other hand, Carlos was still monitoring the cameras, observing their every move. As soon as he saw the three exit the building, he made sure to corrupt the footage before leaving and following the other three.

Jameson was a fucking maniac. He had to be—because no sane person would keep a lab underneath their house. Oh, and to make things even worse, a large glass cylinder cell stood in the middle—and alas, Scorpion was inside it. 

Peter observed the passed-out entity before immediately turning to Jameson. “Explain. Now,” he demanded.

“MacDonald Gargan,” Jameson pointed at Scorpion. “When he failed to find out how you obtained those Spider-Man pictures years ago, I decided to hire him as a subject of an experiment. I wasn’t alone. With the help of Dr. Farley Stillwell, the goal was to give him the beneficial traits of a certain animal—a scorpion. We were aiming to create someone powerful enough to be capable of defeating Spider-Man. Defeating you.

“But the mutagenic treatment was too much for him; it began to affect his mind. The entire process was barely tested. We should’ve known it would happen.”

“How long ago was this experiment?” asked Charlene.

“3 years ago. Right after he failed to do the initial job we hired him for.”

“If this was years ago, why is he only attacking now?”

“Stillwell and I spent the majority of time developing the mutagenic treatment. We had no means to test it, so we just went with our guts to continue developing and developing until we thought it was perfectly done. And then, not until weeks ago, I remembered this guy right here,” he glanced at Mac. “I remembered this man and how eager he was to prove himself to anyone. So I decided to call him up and hire him for a new job. And because he had failed me before, he was so eager to prove himself to me and accepted instantly.

“For a while, everything was going well. We believed it worked. And it did work—only it made him insane. Stillwell and I tried to contain him, but we failed. The next thing we knew, he was on the news attacking a neighborhood. So Stillwell and I created this cell—one that’s strong enough to contain him—and with the help of some trusted friends, we were able to lure him inside. But we lost people in the process.”

“You mentioned ‘trusted friends’, who are they?” Carlos asked. Jameson was skeptical to answer. These ‘trusted friends’ were highly important and powerful people who could kill him at any moment if he decided to reveal their identity. But at the same time, he knew that these three people were no different. They may not come in many numbers, but he knew that Spider-Man and his two friends could also kill him. He had no other choice.

He sighed exasperatedly. “They’re really powerful people. Some people are from the government, the military, the media, the news, and the police. It’s a secret group that wants to kill Spider-Man. They cover up the mess that Stillwell and I make.”

Carlos and Charlene eyed each other. If what Jameson said was true, some of their colleagues at the station were a part of this secret group too.

“You haven’t talked about his suit. Can we remove it? Maybe make him weaker by removing it?” Peter asked this time.

“No,” Jameson shook his head. “He’s stuck in the suit. You can’t remove it, he can’t remove it, we can’t remove it. Mac and his suit are permanently bonded.”

“How long has he been contained here?”

“He’s been in here since his first attack.”

Now, everyone was confused.

“If he's been here since the first attack, and the first attack was back in the neighborhood, then who did I fight on that street?” asked Peter.

“Why can’t the city cameras see him? He always disappears,” asked Carlos.

“What happened to Dr. Stillwell? Where is he now?” asked Charlene.

“Dead,” a hoarse voice spoke from the cell. In an instant, Carlos and Charlene’s guns were raised and pointed at him. “Stillwell is dead. I killed him when they contained me here,” Mac smirked.

Peter, being the one who fought Scorpion on that street, was the only one in the room who realized that his voice was different from the Scorpion he had fought before.

Mitch was starting to make you uncomfortable. 

When you started your day and decided it was time to visit the Greta Marketing Co. building in the country, he started to ramble and admitted that work would not begin until next week.

You were not aware of that.

He then went on to say that the reason he had you leave New York a week early was to get you used to the country and the new environment. He even showed you a list of activities to do for a week with him before starting work next week.

That alone was already suspicious. But you still gave him a chance. Maybe he meant well, you thought.

Only he didn’t. Little did you know, everything would turn even worse. And spending a couple of days more with him would prove it.

Mitch has changed. He was not the same person you knew. Or maybe you never knew him all along.

It started with weird glances. 

The plan was to take a week-long tour to see the famous tourist spots in the country. You must admit, it was pretty exciting. There was so much fun in discovering cultures and getting enlightened by their traditions. Mitch glanced at you every once in a while, but you let it go. You thought that he was just checking up on you.

Which turned to staring.

He was definitely not just checking up on you. You realized that when you noticed it took him at least 4 minutes to get his eyes away from you. You knew because you felt it every time. He was also eyeing you up and down and checking you out.

Which then turned to forcing you into holding hands with him.

He would try to hold your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours. Of course, every time, you would reject it, but that never stopped him as he still kept on trying it every moment you two were in a room—which was every fucking moment because he simply would not leave you alone.

And now, stalking.

You were able to convince him to take the third day off by yourself. At first, he was hesitant to let you wander off alone, but you eventually got him to let you go. You went to the Greta Marketing building once and for all, to ask some questions about your new position and inquire about the adjustments you need to make to get settled. However, along the way, you started to sense that someone was following you. When you turned around, you were able to get a glimpse of someone with a white shirt and khaki pants behind a utility pole texting or pretending to text someone on their phone. You decided to let it go for a while; you didn’t want to immediately point fingers. What if that man was just a normal guy going to work and stopping to rest on a pole to text his family or friend? Besides, he was gone after you crossed a road.

You were fucking pissed when you left the building—you couldn’t believe what you just discovered. Suddenly, you found Mitch running towards you as soon as you stepped out of the exit. He was breathing heavily but you couldn’t care less. “What happened to you?” you asked.

“I just ran,” he answered. 

“Why?” 

“I-uh–well-uh, it’s not important,” he shook his head. “Did you go in there? Who did you speak to? What did they tell you?”

You debated on whether to tell him the truth or lie. You decided to lie, just as he did to you. 

He lied. He fucking lied. That’s why you were pissed the moment you left the building. There was a branch of Greta Marketing in Japan—that part was true—but they did not need you. You were made aware of that the moment you went there and asked for your position.

“I just spoke with the receptionist. The person I was hoping to talk to wasn’t there, so I didn’t get to know anything,” you lied. Mitch let out a breath of relief he tried to hide with a yawn. He thought you didn’t notice, but you certainly did.

And that wasn’t the only thing you noticed. You observed his outfit. He was wearing a white shirt with khaki pants.

“Let’s go back to our apartment?” he offered his hand.

You were disgusted, but you hid it with a smile. You had a plan. “Sure.”

You immediately went straight to the bathroom after entering your apartment. He joked about how you were so desperate for a pee, and you faked a laugh, saying it was because you were holding it in for quite some time. 

You didn’t pee. What you actually did was open your phone and try to book the soonest flight back to New York. You were hoping there was a flight today so you could leave as early as possible, but luck was unfortunately not on your side as you discovered that the last flight from New York to Japan and vice versa was actually yesterday. So you instead booked the next one. It was tomorrow. You flushed the toilet before leaving the bathroom.

And the waiting game began—only one more day.

“Do you know someone named Mitchell Gargan?” asked Peter.

Mac Gargan chuckled hoarsely. “My twin brother.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Everything.”

“Go ahead then,” Peter dared.

“Mitch and I used to be inseparable. We played the same games as children, watched the same cartoons, went to the same school and stuff, even fell in love with the same girl once—you know, the usual twin things. We were partners in crime. We protected each other, we cared for each other, and we lifted each other up. But everything changed when our mother died, and we were left to live with our father. We were still in school at that time, Mitch wanted to be a scientist and I wanted to be a detective or an investigator.

“We were always at the top of the class but he has always been the smarter one. That’s why he always excelled in his subjects. He was forced to stop it, though, because our father wasn’t very into the idea of science. He didn’t believe in any of the science shit and did not want to support Mitch in his dream of becoming a scientist, so he didn’t have any choice but to pursue a business-related course. He started changing after that. He rarely talked to me and started being reclusive. He always preferred to be alone and would only get out of his bedroom when it was time to eat. Our father didn’t care. He never fucking cared about our well-being. 

“When our father died, Mitch started talking to me again, but he was not the same. I started my investigation and discovered that he had a made-up lab in a secluded area where he was mixing chemicals and experimenting on animals. It turned out that he still continued living his scientist dreams despite not getting education for it. I let it slide. I thought that he was just doing that to compensate for the dream he would never accomplish. 

“Everything got worse when we graduated. He was jealous and angry because I graduated my dream course and he didn’t. To be fair, it was understandable that he felt that way. His way of coping was downing countless bottles of alcohol. One time when he had been drinking too much, he let it slip that he fantasized about stalking women, trapping them, and doing things to them—the worst part was he imagined that they would eventually end up dead. From the way he spoke about assault and murder in such a calm way, I didn’t recognize my twin brother anymore.

“I planned on informing the authorities about his fantasy, but I had no proof that he said it, and he then threatened me when he found out that I knew. He had a knife in my throat, threatening me that if I ever told someone he would do much more than that. That was the moment when I outsmarted him. You see, I learned my lesson that night when he was drunk, so I always wore a hidden camera just to catch him the next time we would talk. And guess what? I recorded the entire conversation of him threatening me. He was sentenced to prison, and we never talked again.”

“Is he still in jail?” Peter asked. He thought that if this Mitch was still in prison, maybe the Mitch that was with you in Japan wasn’t the same as Mitchell Gargan. It was a possibility that even Peter himself found it hard to believe in.

“No,” Mac coldly admitted.

“And how are you sure?” Carlos interrogated.

“Because the son of a bitch once paid me a visit. I thought he was going to break me out of here but no. He wanted something else.”

Peter held his hand up, causing everyone in the room to look at him. By this moment, Peter immediately knew the next words Mac would say, so he needed to act fast. He pulled Charlene and Carlos into a corner, instructing them to leave the city and get to you as soon as possible. Once the couple had left, Peter turned back to the creature behind the glass.

“What did he want?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

“The formula.”

Mac then glanced at Jameson with a knowing look. 

“He got it. And with his science background shit, I assume he was able to modify it to make him turn from human to Scorpion and from Scorpion to being human again.”

You should’ve known to run the moment he planned this entire trip and kept it a secret from you.

The moment you stepped out of the bathroom, you knew you weren’t safe anymore. Your choices were limited, and time was running out fast.

Only a day had passed, but it was excruciatingly long because Mitch started to get touchy. He was adamant about invading your privacy to the point that it was hard to pack your bags without him noticing. And every time you asked for space, he would turn the tables figuratively and make it seem that you were being impolite and ungrateful for his efforts.

So now here you were, at your shared apartment, having that same argument over again. Only this time he actually apologized. Like sincerely apologized.

Or so you thought. 

He stepped towards you, asking for a hug, which you did not want to give him at first, but he proposed a deal that if you gave him one last hug, he would be gone in your life forever. And for some reason, you agreed to do it.

Your mind has once again failed to stop your ever-kind heart as you proved to be a fool of his calculated offenses.

He was hugging you too tight, you couldn’t even breathe anymore. While his left arm was suffocating you in a hug, his other hand started to roam your body before it settled on your clothed ass and squeezed it. You froze entirely while his hand continued to feel your body until it stopped at your crotch, and he started rubbing it with his fingers.

You managed to push him away, and with all your might, you grabbed your bag under your bed and headed towards the door. You successfully passed the bedroom door, hoping to get to the main entrance as fast as possible, but you were stopped when a hand threw your whole body away from the door. You had never seen Mitch this angry and powerful before. 

Mitch was not the type of person who worked out. He was lean, tall, and he wore glasses. His hair was always a ruffled mess, and he talked in such a slow and soft cadence.

You should’ve been wiser not to let yourself be deceived by appearances.

You stood up with shaking knees and a trembling body, hoping to get through the door, but you were interrupted once more when he caught your throat with his hand. You soon found yourself getting lifted up by the throat every passing second. Your eyes were closed as you tried kicking him and scratching his arm, but he was unbelievably strong. You opened your eyes to look at what was once your friend, but you were met with the sight of him turning into the monster you saw on television.

You gathered every last bit of strength you had as you screamed as loud as you could, forcing him to release his hold of you and cover his ears. 

And you did the only thing you’ve known to do for years—whether from your problems, from threats, or from love…

You ran.

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST:  @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @writingstoraes @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20​ @the-quiet-observer

THANKS FOR PATIENTLY WAITING FOR THIS PART! SEE YOU SOON FOR THE FINALE :)

[oswaldthatendswald]

for the ask game! :] 11. 13. 24. 40.

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

Couldn't pick three. You get four instead. (I did try to be more varied in who they were about, but Cora is my favourite guy and Law is a close second so all my top favourite stuff is about them. I did try to pick writers who have a body of work I really admire, so it's totally worth checking more of their stuff out.)

"A Crown of Flowers" by HyperbolicReverie : If I'd had to pick one, it would be this one. It took me forever to start reading it, actually, but oh my god it's so good. It takes the canon of One Piece and uses it to build a gorgeous, lush world that really appeals to my love of fantasy. (Also, part of the reason I had so much trouble picking fics is because my top three-- probably top five-- fics in the fandom are all by HyperbolicReverie but I didn't want to repeat authors. Bonus answer for this question is "The Man Born of No Sea", actually.)

"The Benefits of Drinking with Strangers" by Cherry_Sundae : When I say this fic made me have to take a break and lie down, I mean it. It's tense. It's hilarious. It's awkward. It's a little heartbreaking but in a good way. Catharsis. It has the line "Law wonders if he is professionally qualified to diagnose his own psychotic break" (not a spoiler, that's in the teaser for the fic). It's a 10/10 from me.

Needle and Threat by flying_sky_neon_bread : This fic and a couple others by the same writer really shaped how I see Doflamingo, back before I'd ever written anything about him, and it's definitely stuck with me. I think my affection for hurt/comfort as a trope is pretty well documented, and this really fulfills that desire. Evil hurt/comfort. Doflamingo flavoured hurt/comfort.

Adventures in Babysitting by Origamidragons : Have you ever wondered why I'm so attached to the headcanon that Dragon was Rocinante's babysitter back in the day? Wonder no more, gentle reader! It's this fic! It's so good! Very funny, very charming. Baby Rocinante is so cute. Garp should never be put in charge of a child.

This is really a tiny selection of my favourites. I had to cut it down from 20+. I have 418 One Pieces fanfics bookmarked, and so many of them are absolutely incredible. I love this fandom's writing so much.

The rest is under the cut!

13. what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

The thing is, I've read a lot of books on creative writing and taken one university course on it (which was honestly pretty useless, but that's another story), so there's probably a lot of writing advice that I've incorporated into my practice and now do without having to think about it? I think maybe the best, most widely applicable advice I can think of is to write every day. Not to set yourself a word count to hit (I certainly don't) but to write at least one sentence every day. The longer you go in between writing, the harder it becomes to start again. This is advice I understand some people find very irritating, but I'm quite insistent that it's the best way to improve, so I do apologize.

24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

Ah, so much. So much terrible writing advice out there. Generally speaking, writing is so subjective that advice that can be quite valuable for someone will be not only useless but damaging to someone else. I think for me, the advice to never let anyone see my work before it was finished was the one that held me back the most. It's probably fine advice for someone, but for me, chronic perfectionist, it only encouraged me to hoard my work preciously and never let it see the light of day.

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

I think I've answered this before actually! But it's a fun question! My default answer is always Cora's bounty poster, because I had so much fun describing it. I think my bonus answer is probably Cora's new outfit for Cry Havoc! (There's also a bit coming up in Lying to the Government for Fun and Profit that I would Love to see drawn, but shhhh. Secret.)

Thank you very much for the ask!!! Great questions!

[lamarseillasie]

Le Docteur Marat #01: Marat's medical competence

Salut, citoyens!

With the aim of informing and making an analysis based on primary sources about Marat's medical career, a career that, unfortunately, is little known - and, when known, usually ridiculed or belittled in various ways - by many, i have decided to start a series of posts in which i intend to dissect on subjects related to Marat's medical experiences as well as his writings. These posts will contain all primary sources at my fingertips, and i apologize in advance for my terrible English, as it is not my native language and i am still learning.

In this first post, we will address the following question, so controversial, doubted and misrepresented by many historians over the centuries: Was Marat a good doctor?

Before this question can be properly answered, it is necessary to be aware that the image of the historical character that Marat eventually became has been constantly counterfeited, adulterated and inaccurately represented by countless sources over time. Even in life, Marat was frequently attacked by many of his contemporary adversaries, who invented lies and false rumors about him and his life - especially his pre-revolutionary life. It is no coincidence that Marat was in the habit of constantly defending himself and justifying his actions in issues of his newspaper, L'Ami Du Peuple. When he died, many of the lies attributed to him were perpetuated and many were also developed by other biographers, writers and historians. Understanding that Marat's pre-revolutionary life was the target of several attempts to defame his image during the course of history, it is possible to understand the reasons why many people question whether he was really a good doctor.

Marat's training as a physician is thought to have begun during his stay in Bordeaux from 1760 to 1762 (Marat being 16-19 years old), at which time he worked as a tutor to one of the sons of Paul Nairac, a merchant. It is likely that his father, Jean-Mara, had some influence on his medical career and other of his academic interests. In his Portrait de l'Ami du peuple tracé par lui-même (1793), Marat mentions his father:

"The temperament of my soul comes from nature, but I owe the development of my character to my mother; for my father never aspired to make me anything other than a scholar."

It is not known for certain whether Jean-Mara was in fact the one who led Marat down the path of medicine. What can be conjectured is that he seems to have studied extensively from 1762, when he moved to Paris and then moving to England, where he does indeed seem to have started his career. In his Essay on gleets (1775) he mentions his "10 years practice" in the field. Little information, however, exists about this time, and the beginning of Marat's medical career unfortunately remains somewhat obscure.

But what were Marat's real qualifications? What can prove that he was a truly competent doctor in the field in the eyes of other doctors?

He received an M.D. degree from Andrews University in Scotland on June 30, 1775. The full diploma, as well as other documents and correspondence, can be found in F. Chèvremont, Jean-Paul Marat. I will leave it here below:

Even with a properly attested diploma, written and signed by two competent doctors, it is to be expected that those who oppose Marat have created assumptions and myths about his qualification. Many of his smearers claim that he bought the degree, since he has not defended any thesis. Clifford Conner debunks this story in Jean-Paul Marat: Tribune of the French Revolution [pg. 19-18]:

"His detractors have claimed that because there is no record of his actually having attended classes there, he must have bought the degree. His diploma was signed, however, by two medical examiners who officially certified Marat's competence as a physician. One of them, Dr. William Buchan, was a prominent medical authority whose books were published in multiple editions in both English and French."

"The way St. Andrews bestowed its degrees seems lax according to modern standards of medical education, but such comparisons are anachronistic. When Marat received his M.D. in 1775, he had already been practicing medicine for ten years. It was common in the eighteenth century-and in France even well into the nineteenth-for universities to confer degrees as a way of certifying the professional competence and educational preparation of working practitioners who had not actually attended classes at those institutions. Despite the illustrious Dr. Johnson's famous quip about St. Andrews "growing richer by degrees," the university was not regarded as a mere diploma mill. Benjamin Franklin, for one, expressed pride in the doctorate it had awarded him. Marat's M.D. was unquestionably authentic by the standards of the day."

In addition to the diploma, which is more than good evidence that Marat had skill in the field of medicine, it is possible to see his vast experience and evolution in the field, or at least in human anatomy and physiology, from his A philosophical essay on man (1773). This work, being a kind of treatise divided into three books that renew the ideas of his Essay on the human soul (1772), is of a more philosophical nature, although it makes it clear that Marat was at least a great connoisseur of the human body and its peculiarities. None of the thinkers and philosophers who criticized Marat's work at the time denied his full knowledge of the physiological theories or the anatomy of the fluids he presented, revealing that he had an excellent command of the various areas of the human body, something that certainly indicates an undeniable medical wisdom.

This ability to understand physiology is evident in several passages in volume 3, de l'homme. Here's one of my personal favorites:

"The human body is an admirable machine. If we look at it from the structural point of view, what a multiplicity of parts! What a prodigious number of forces! What justice, what precision in their effects! What intimacy in their union, what harmony in their dependence! Not only does it bring together all that is most beautiful in mechanics, but it surpowers them infinitely by the simplicity & play of its refforts. But the most marvellous thing is that the organs that make up these different machines all have different functions, when examined as a whole. In the body, not a single spring is isolated, but all are linked to one another, in mutual dependence, and thus contribute to forming a harmonious whole. Even less admirable for its structure than for its functions: if you look at it from this angle, what an astonishing variety of functions all rolled into one! A machine that plays & holds itself. A machine that can wind itself up. A machine by means of which the Soul relates to windowed objects. Machine by means of which the soul can act on bodies. Machine by means of which the Soul knows pleasure & pain. Machine in which the Soul paints with energy. Machine capable of reproducing itself."

But what were Marat's methods? What were his cures, his specialties?

Well, Marat himself is the main source able to confirm his own healing methods. Throughout his pre-revolutionary academic career, he produced a packed collection of works, letters and accounts relating to his experiences as a physician, describing situations and cures he performed on various patients. There seems to be no reason to question the reality of these cures, since, in Essay on gleets, Marat states that his patients (all named by their initials, so as to remain anonymous), "would not refuse confirmation of the truth if other patients wished a private interview. They even promised me that." [pg. 18 in Payennevile's French translation].

It is known that he cured the Marquise de L'Aubespine of a disease that other doctors considered incurable, and so his notoriety as a doctor began to grow. But Marat's clientele is a subject for another post. It is impossible to talk about his medical techniques without mentioning one of his greatest passions and specialties in the scientific field: electrotherapy. Marat constantly defended and disserted on the effects of electric fluid in medicine, describing situations in which he had used electrotherapy to successfully treat some of his patients. He is above all a nuanced and lucid theorist, although fascinated by the progress of the discovery of electricity; even so, he does not allow himself to be carried away by mesmerism, which he openly opposes in his Mémoire sur l'életricité médicale (1773).

Moreover, it is important to mention observation as one of Doctor Marat's main methods. In all the branches in which he operates to some extent - even in his philosophy - observation is the most present, most striking feature, and the one most demonstrated by Marat himself as being his most effective technique for developing and associating healing methods. He seems to have a passion for observation and for relating the various sciences through in-depth analysis, which explains the thoroughness with which he shows he treats each of his patients. Although the cures and therapeutic procedures carried out and proposed by Marat did not deviate so much from what was common in the Age of Enlightenment, it is more than possible to consider that he had an early mentality and far beyond his time for an 18th century physician. This is evident in his writings on the treatment of blenorrhagia, for example.

In a number of letters to the Gazette de Santé, Marat describes the cures he performed on patients. This set of letters reveals precisely the medical techniques he used at the time in each case - including dilutions, infusions and decoctions - and also discusses electrotherapy. These letters prove that Marat was undoubtedly competent as a medical observer and that he often linked his medical practice with the physical knowledge he so valued. Marat's concern to assess each illness as an isolated case and examine its symptoms is noticeable in almost all the letters.

This excerpt from a letter written by Marat in response to the husband of one of his patients clearly shows his concern with the clinical evaluation of symptoms in order to formulate a diagnosis:

"Does the patient have any chest pain? Is there any tearing when she coughs? Does she sleep on both sides or on her back? Is his sputum stained with blood? Is there any pus? Has she been prone to colds? Does she experience any change in the atmosphere? Does she hemorrhage, and has she? How is her appetite? Does she have night sweats? Does she hemorrhage, and has she? Does she have a low-grade fever? Is she in a slump?"

The full letter, along with some other information about it, can be found on pages 130-132 of Marat inconnu (1891), by Docteur Cabanés.

For a good period of his pre-revolutionary life, Marat was a typical physician and scholar of the Age of Enlightenment, demonstrating in his writings - however much they may have been purely publicistic - an undeniable wisdom in physiological, electrotherapeutic and physical knowledge in general. He has been, since his youth, a voracious reader, a real scholar and invariably a sage. Observation proved crucial to his medical technique, and the numerous letters and testimonies quoted above confirm the importance Marat attached to factors such as climate, diet and the behavior of his patients during their respective treatments. It is no wonder that he was able to cure many people with apparent effectiveness.

Marat evidently had a great deal of expertise in gonorrhea and eye-related diseases, cases in which he usually felt comfortable using electrification as one of his healing methods. All these characteristics of Marat's medicine are present in his letters to the Gazette de Santé, already mentioned above, and can also be seen in his medical works. In his book Marat (1996), Professor Olivier Coquard comments on this:

"On the whole, Marat appears as a typical representative of the doctors of the Enlightenment, despite training essentially acquired on the job. It targets a wealthy clientele, who pay dearly for their consultations and through which they want to integrate into society. His medical practice associates the use of the most traditional medicines with a very enlightened and precocious concern with clinical observation.

At the same time, the integration of electricity into the panoply of therapeutic instruments translates an essential aspect of Marathi's conception of science and the world: everything is interdependent. For the doctor, it is essential to master not only physiology, but the set of scientific disciplines."

What can we conclude from all this?

Marat was, in fact, a competent physician. He proved to have much more than a basic knowledge in medicine, and to claim that he was a quack in this field is quite wrong. The knowledge he possessed about anatomy and its different functions combined with his passion for the physical sciences and his autonomous, work-based experience and pure observation about treatments for eye diseases is groundbreaking in the historical context in which he found himself. Doctor Marat was very wise about his therapeutic techniques with electricity, the latter having been the target element of his studies for several long years of his life. In a future post, I would like to delve deeper into each of the cases and patients treated by Marat, exploring his clientele and his correspondence with Roume de Saint-Laurent, who was a great supporter of his scientific and medical career.

I end this long (?) post here. As much as we cannot witness his methods or watch his work live, there is no doubt that Marat was an advanced mind for his time as far as medicine was concerned. For various reasons, including his academic ambitions, his relationships, his scientific passions and his self-promoting ability, he was able to consolidate himself for a time very comfortably in this field, being known as Doctor Marat, who, possessed of a relatively well-off clientele, would probably not have imagined himself to be one of France's main revolutionary leaders in the near future. I am of the opinion, as is Dr. Jean-François Lemaire in his book Marat: homme de science? (1993) that Marat was an excellent doctor. His memory should therefore be taken seriously. Dr. Marat, an efficient, apt and prudent doctor, deserves to have the slanders against him debunked, so that people can understand that, before being a Friend of the People, he was above all a fine eccentric example of a Man of the Enlightenment.

Vitam impendere vero.

* I've taken a lot of inspiration from the biographies of Olivier Coquard and Docteur Cabanés to write this post, and so I'm being careful to design them the credits for most of the things I've written and the information I've used! :)

* Some of the images are photos taken by me on my cell phone, so I ask for forgiveness if they are a bit bad to read.

* I apologize for my bad English, it is not my native language and that is why it took me a long time to write this post. The translations of the letters may also contain errors, as I was the one who translated them.

[velvetvexations]

Can I also just say I deeply appreciate how willing you are to listen and be understanding when something a Velvet Nationer says doesn't necessarily jive with your perception of that thing, so long as we approach it like, you know, with honest intent? I love that you don't compromise your own opinions, but you're not closed off to the idea that things might be perceived differently by others. It makes this feel like a genuinely safe place to come and chat.

I'm really glad! I think listening to other people when they're clearly being honest with you is important. I always say that if even a cishet person came to me about something I said about cishet people hurting their feelings I'll take that seriously - I may not necessarily agree to make changes to my behavior or rhetoric, but I'm not going to pretend like privilege makes you emotionally invincible or that these things always follow a logical structure, so I will empathize with them and see what can be done about the situation even when it's only an apology that we're on separate pages.

Occasionally I can be worried about how things will be received if it's outside the normal discourse I talk about, particularly when I worry I'm being too lenient to a take I disagree with but maybe I should be more aggressive about. And then I still worry about being too aggressive sometimes. But as far as my anxiety in that regard goes you can 🎶 blame it on my N-P-D baby 🎶 lol, I know it's irrational.

On the negative side, this is also why I have a really hard time with TIRFs occasionally.

Recently I had a private interaction with the kinna TERF that just swaps "man and woman" with "AMAB and AFAB", and she was trying very hard to be "nice", saying she really thought the both of us were good people who just didn't agree on the best way forward. And she was like "oh wow, you're an author, I should buy the book and read it" and it was just. Really stressful because I want so badly to believe people are good when given the opportunity. And she followed me and liked a few posts and I blocked her because I hit my limit of what I could handle. I wasn't willing to continue meeting her halfway and tolerating her dangerous beliefs that sex separation would always be necessary because AMAB people would always have biological leverage over AFABs, even if she was capable of presenting herself as a non-freak who didn't just rabidly spit hatred at trans women or want to detransition anyone, at least openly.

She was exceptional, though. Most TIRFs of that variety are, at best, completely fucking bonkers like the one I bring up occasionally who thought non-passing trans women are privileged over cis women - yet even she, as completely wack she was, I found difficult to try and start an argument with because her incredibly warped vision of reality was presented in such ( ◡‿◡ *) tones that it short-circuited my brain and I found it difficult to come down on her like I would have needed to if I engaged.

I think you might be able to blame that case at least partially on my NPD as well, since it's also putting me in the position of like, me having to be the angry aggressive one while she would be like "( ╥ω╥ ) but I'm so nice" and that would fuck with me a lot.

But in general my NPD is useful here, because it makes me always want to be The Best Person, which means the most kind and caring and saint-like person ever, except with bad people, to whom I'm a punishing angel of righteous fury. At the very least it sets that as my goal even when I don't always attain it.

This was a lot of words to say that I just try really hard to be nice and sometimes that's stressful in and of itself lol. But I'm really, really happy people are comfortable with me and my space.

[blubushie]

This is gonna sound weird bc we are on the site that has a huge fan base for it bit have you read any of Terry Pratchett's Disworld books/series?

Because if not I feel you'll enjoy them bc there MO is basicly Sir Terry flipping tropes/archetypes on their head while giving damning thought provoking commentary on society but in that same breathe give hopeful encouragement for change/ the future. His word play is also very witty and sticks with you. Some of his older works have blatant prejudice bc you know author bias but he has apologized for such things and worked to learn more about the groups he was prejudice towards and has rectified it the following books related to those older works.

The Witches series and the City Watch series I feel would mesh well with you bc it has its main characters that it sort of centers around be curmudgeons who prove that doing/being good is an action and a discipline.

The Witches series play with the genre of fairy tales and Shakespeare and it's sort of interesting how the Witches series play with that; in the aspect that the Witches in that World are self aware of the tropes. ( The third book of this series plays with it as the Main Character goes off on how they wanted to be one half of a duo trope (like red oni, blue oni) but since the other half of the duo chose that part they resigned themselves to play the remaining part/trope.)

The City Watch is what would happen if the noir genre was dropped kicked into a fantasy world. Here we have our main character introduced with him drunk in the gutter and he is one of the most noble and righteous man in the city and it's bc of that, is way he's drunk and in the gutter. This series deals with if fantasy aspects were real how would it become mundane and off course police corruption/brutality and reform.

I also feel the Mort series would entertain you since it's about Death as a character and in a way slowly becoming humanized. Like he is Death but it's also his job to be Death and on his off time he enjoys other things and is not just doom and gloom. He has family, he likes cats and his horse name is Binky. The Reaper Man even though it's the second book in the Mort series, it's the book that plays with the Western genre and it's the one where Death gets fired from his job. It also has one of my favorite and comforting quotes, '“LORD, WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?”' [To me, maybe bc I'm Mexican, I enjoy when death is not viewed as a horrible thing but as a process of life and as a being that will be your companion when you leave life behind.]

Sorry for the short info dump 😬 😅😅 just thought you might like the series.

I tried to get into it sometime last year at the recommendation of a mate and basically got the reading version of executive dysfunction that I get whenever I try to get into a long-running series, which is to say I started reading Men At Arms (as I like crime novels I figured it was a good place to start, at least to picque my interest in the series as a whole) and just got overwhelmed with the sheer amount of books. There's a reason I never finished the Warriors series and never touched Harry Potter—you kinda lose me past three installments. It's one thing if I'm growing up with them and have time to process the lore (looks at World of Warcraft and their expansions that I can remember Too Much Lore About even far after I've stopped playing the game) but if I'm coming into a long-running series... Well, unfortunately my information retention isn't that good. I don't have time to mull over and learn things before I'm hit with the desire to pick up a new book, which means I don't retain much at all.

It's not that things get confusing, just that they get extremely overwhelming. Choice overload. There's this intense dread of "I am not going to have time to finish these books" and the awareness that I will get bored of them quickly as they won't provide much in the sense of having accomplished something, unlike when I've actually finished a novel or shorter series. This is also a lead reason why I haven't worked on LTBs in a while—the sheer scope of how much I have left to write has burnt me out.

ADHD is a bitch.

[sister-shoujo]

So I just read Blue Flag and oh my god was I sent down a roller coaster and it left even questioning myself. Anyways before I get started I’m going to spoil a lot so if you don’t want to see that don’t look at the following post.

The story takes you through a lot of twists and turns. Sometimes you start off hating character that you actually love on the end and maybe bias versa. Everyone in the story has a lot depth and all of the characters get some sort of back story or make statements that have the reader understand why they act the ways they do. I know it’s not new for characters in anime to have a sob story of some kind but they all felt more relatable and realistic. Some people dealt with bullying, others were battling inner demons, some peoples parents passed away from accidents, etc.. Each story was different and all of them weren’t super extreme. Of course that’s not to say that people in the real world don’t go through extreme shit we all do. However anime sometimes can overdo those making the story seem redundant or maybe less interesting because it’s to much like the others.

Spoilers ahead!!

I truly adored Taichi and Futaba’s relationship. They were so adorable and I really liked the fact that throughout there relationship they had to learn to set boundaries not just with others but between themselves. Especially because both of them are pretty passive when it comes to being firm. Futaba being able to share her feelings about how she didn’t like Mami hanging around Taichi openly was just amazing for her entire character. Futaba is one who is always super clumsy and shy so she always felt the need to apologize. She stumbles on her words a lot also and just comes off as a not super confident person. So I loved that she felt comfortable enough to do it later on.

I loved them. I loved their friendship. I loved their dynamic. I love both of them as people. I just love them.

But what I didn’t fuck with was after Toma’s confession when everybody lowkey turned on Taichi. Everybody was making things weird for them. Don’t even get me started when Toma walked into the locker room and someone with no filter or home training felt the need to call Toma a pervert for walking into the mf locker room because Taichi was changing for gym like everybody else in there.

I think that’s the reason why I was able to live with not seeing Tom’s at the end of the book with Taichi. We had already seen Tina’s feelings so much that in those last moments it was showing how important Taichi’s feelings were as well. Toma liking Taichi doesn’t make Toma. bad person and Taichi letting down Tina doesn’t make Taichi a bad person. However the kids around school siding with Toma was making Tomas feelings seem more important. For instance, when those girls were telling Toma that Taichi was some sort of bad guy for not reciprocating romantic interest. Just pissed me tf off.

But besides all of that I loved there ending and I didn’t feel like it was rushed.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live with the fact that there was never a confession. I thought there was going to be one at the end of the book because of how Futaba was saying Masumi was special to her. I just loved them so much and thought they deserved way better. I know Futaba looked happy in the end but Masumi just looked enjoyed by her husband.

Even though Masumi’s husband resembles Futaba so much she didn’t smile or show any sort of emotion towards him until that last single panel. So that makes me question did she really get true happiness at the end like the other… But who knows maybe there was something else the author was going towards that I didn’t understand.

But anyway that’s all for now…

[mariana-oconnor]

The Red-Headed League Pt 1

From the start I can say that I have read this one many, many times. Not my favourite, but it was in the book of Sherlock Holmes stories I had as a child. Although, once again I remember only the gist of the tale from the title, not the details. I may remember more as I go on.

found him in deep conversation with a very stout, florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red hair.

As someone from a family with many redheads, with several friends who are redheads, I can say that the idea of an 'elderly' person with red hair amuses me because without exception the more redheaded a person is in my experience, the sooner they go white. I had cousins who were significantly grey at 21. If this guy is considered elderly and still has his natural hair colour as a redhead, then he's got some impressive genes.

Also, I can already see the redheaded stereotypes circling.

With an apology for my intrusion, I was about to withdraw when Holmes pulled me abruptly into the room and closed the door behind me.

Watson: trying to be polite. Holmes: YOINK!

The stout gentleman half rose from his chair and gave a bob of greeting, with a quick little questioning glance from his small fat-encircled eyes.

Watson really doesn't like flattering descriptions, does he? 'Fat encircled eyes'? You've mentioned he's stout twice already, do we really need the extra? After the last story where he was very clear about how he thought Miss Mary Sutherland was unattractive, he's really on a roll.

You have shown your relish for it by the enthusiasm which has prompted you to chronicle, and, if you will excuse my saying so, somewhat to embellish so many of my own little adventures.

Doyle making a callout post for his own unreliable narrator.

"You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before we went into the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary Sutherland..."

Callback! Although I'm still a little angry at you about that one, Holmes. Not your finest hour.

As a rule, when I have heard some slight indication of the course of events, I am able to guide myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to my memory. In the present instance I am forced to admit that the facts are, to the best of my belief, unique.

Holmes is flummoxed. He is bamboozled. He is quite without context or precedent.

Our visitor bore every mark of being an average commonplace British tradesman, obese, pompous, and slow.

Watson, your classism, intellectualism, and fatphobia are showing. Wow, we're just getting back-to-back Watson being a judgy little bitch, aren't we? Once again I have to question what these people must have thought in-universe when reading his descriptions of them. I know, I know, they're not real, but it's a central conceit of the series that Watson is the author and publishes the tales, and looking at it from that perspective when he's so very disparaging of some of their clients.

"Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time done manual labour, that he takes snuff, that he is a Freemason, that he has been in China, and that he has done a considerable amount of writing lately, I can deduce nothing else."

OK, now Sherlock's talking about the guy like he's not there. They're quite a pair today.

But also, Sherlock showing off again, and this time the client takes the bait and asks about it. He must be so pleased.

"I have made a small study of tattoo marks and have even contributed to the literature of the subject. That trick of staining the fishes' scales of a delicate pink is quite peculiar to China. When, in addition, I see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain, the matter becomes even more simple."

I like how he starts with the more obscure one, then follows it up with the more obvious clue. Although he could have got the coin from somewhere else, so the tattoo colouring is confirmation that he actually went, and is not connected in another way.

Mr Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. "Well, I never!" said he. "I thought at first that you had done something clever, but I see that there was nothing in it, after all."

I like Mr Jabez Wilson. Ha! (Maybe this is why Watson is so bitchy about him, because he does not appreciate the true glory of Holmes' art).

TO THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE: On account of the bequest of the late Ezekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A., there is now another vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a salary of 4 pounds a week for purely nominal services. All red-headed men who are sound in body and mind and above the age of twenty-one years, are eligible. Apply in person on Monday, at eleven o'clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices of the League, 7 Pope's Court, Fleet Street.

Based on the Bank of England inflation calculator, this comes to roughly £400 a week in modern money. And given that last story we were told that a woman could comfortably live on £60 a year, while this is ~£200 a year. I would take that in a heartbeat and ask no questions. I'd be thinking a lot of questions, but I would not be asking them. Two words: Plausible deniability.

~*Oh no. I am but an innocent pawn in this terrible scheme! I knew nothing.*~

If only I were a man with red hair of sound mind and body.

"What on earth does this mean?" I ejaculated

Obligatory ejaculation note.

Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit when in high spirits.

Wiggly chair dance! I love it.

I would have a job to pay him but that he is willing to come for half wages so as to learn the business.

This guy is either the nicest guy in the world, or he has ulterior motives. Given the context, I'm going with door number 2.

I should not wish a smarter assistant, Mr Holmes; and I know very well that he could better himself and earn twice what I am able to give him.

Dooooooor number 2

There's no vice in him.

Mr Wilson, I know what I said before about plausible deniability, but you may in fact want to look that gift horse in the mouth and hire someone a little less qualified.

He and a girl of fourteen, who does a bit of simple cooking and keeps the place clean

Ah, Victorian labour laws.

"Spaulding, he came down into the office just this day eight weeks, with this very paper in his hand, and he says: "'I wish to the Lord, Mr Wilson, that I was a red-headed man.' "'Why that?' I asks. "'Why,' says he, 'here's another vacancy on the League of the Red-headed Men. It's worth quite a little fortune to any man who gets it, and I understand that there are more vacancies than there are men, so that the trustees are at their wits' end what to do with the money. If my hair would only change color, here's a nice little crib all ready for me to step into.'

Victor Spaulding is not a very convincing con man - though, to be fair, I have the benefit of being genre savvy. But I can totally see Hardison playing this part in the Leverage version of this con and being over-the-top outraged about the injustice. (I think they did do a version of this con in Leverage at one time, but I can't remember when... or it might have been in Hustle. Or I might be imagining things.)

"Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears, for the business has not been over-good for some years, and an extra couple of hundred would have been very handy."

Almost like it was designed specifically for you! What a strange and fortuitous happenstance! What an utterly serendipitous and not at all suspicious coink-i-dink!

Vincent Spaulding seemed to know so much about it that I thought he might prove useful

There is nothing to see here. Just an ordinary employee.

From north, south, east, and west every man who had a shade of red in his hair had tramped into the city to answer the advertisement. Fleet Street was choked with red-headed folk, and Pope's Court looked like a coster's orange barrow.

Why doesn't Watson know about this? You would have think it would have made the newspaper and we have established that Watson reads the news religiously.

I could tell you tales of cobbler's wax which would disgust you with human nature.

Pretty sure I've read that one on AO3.

The fund was, of course, for the propagation and spread of the red-heads as well as for their maintenance.

Are they... plants? This reads more like gardening. Such weird word choice. Propagation and spread... so creeeeepy.

"'Dear me!' he said gravely, 'that is very serious indeed! I am sorry to hear you say that. The fund was, of course, for the propagation and spread of the red-heads as well as for their maintenance. It is exceedingly unfortunate that you should be a bachelor.'

Classic. The old 'take away the thing that you haven't given them yet to make them want it more'. This guy is more skilled than Spaulding, certainly. Make it seem like you're doing them a favour and they won't look into it too much.

'Oh, never mind about that, Mr Wilson!' said Vincent Spaulding. 'I should be able to look after that for you.'

Seriously, this guy needs to work on his technique. You can't be that eager, my friend. You've got to make them work with it. Make them think it's their idea, not yours. You should have been planting the seeds for this since before you even raised the idea of the League. You are a terrible grifter. Pah! I have 0 respect for you. You're getting by on luck, not skill.

Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in the building, the whole time. If you leave, you forfeit your whole position forever.

Once again an extreme and unreasonable ultimatum, just like in the last story. This is a Bad Sign. No allowances for injury or emergency, just 'if you leave, that's it forever.' Bad sign.

OK, maybe I lied before. I would ask questions about this: 'But what if I fall over and bang my head? But what if the building is on fire? But what if I am kidnapped by enemies of the league?'

"'... copy out the Encyclopaedia Britannica."

Just copy out Wikipedia, longhand. OK. The real question is: what happens when my hand seizes up from writing for so long? What then?

Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was in low spirits again; for I had quite persuaded myself that the whole affair must be some great hoax or fraud, though what its object might be I could not imagine. It seemed altogether past belief that anyone could make such a will, or that they would pay such a sum for doing anything so simple as copying out the Encyclopaedia Britannica.

Yep, yep, yep. All very valid and good points. Good for you, Mr Jabez Wilson. I knew I liked you.

Well, to my surprise and delight, everything was as right as possible. The table was set out ready for me, and Mr Duncan Ross was there to see that I got fairly to work. He started me off upon the letter A

A is for Alarming, which this is.

It's also for Augur, as in 'This augurs poorly.'

You were so close, Mr Wilson. So very close. I believed in you - well, I didn't, because there wouldn't have been a story otherwise. But I still believe you can pull this off. You've come to Holmes for a reason. Will you realise before it's too-

He held up a piece of white card-board about the size of a sheet of note-paper. It read in this fashion: THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE IS DISSOLVED October 9, 1890

Oh Mr Wilson. My belief was misplaced.

A is for Aim and A is for Accomplished and A is for Absconded. All very relevant words, one feels.

[pucktoxicity]

https://www.tumblr.com/pucktoxicity/759073663066734592/httpswwwtumblrcompucktoxicity759072902212665?source=share

Hi! I’m the girl who asked you about the Pia-Leah and Jack lore. I’m sorry for asking for another summary but I’m so new to hockey outside of hockey (I didn’t even realize how far and wide hockey social media went beyond team/league content, so I’m still learning).

When you have time and if you know it, could you summarize what happened with Booktok and the Kraken too?

Hello again 🥰 Don't apologize at all! This is fun for me, and I know damn well that what happened did get outside of booktok, but also, stayed pretty insular to booktok and the few hockey accounts that had posted about it. I can't take credit for this summary, though, it all goes to one of my lovely friends and trusted sources for graciously answering another one of my dms asking her for information, so here goes:

and buckle up, this one will be even longer than the pia and jack lore summary. 😁

KEY PLAYERS:

kierra lewis (28 year old booktok creator who went viral for her reactions to sex scenes in books)

dr. emily rath (author of pucking around)

the seattle kraken / their admin, specificlly on tiktok

felicia wennberg (wife of now-rangers forward / former seattle kraken forward alex wennberg)

THE LORE:

kierra exploded in popularity on tik tok after a few of her reactions to sex scenes in books started racking up millions and millions of views

she was being sent PR left and right from publishing companies, authors, etc. to boost interest in books, their spicy scenes, and their characters* and one of those books happened to be, you guessed it, pucking around by emily rath

it's argued still whether she was told by her followers or by emily that the kraken was the inspiration for the characters in pucking around, (my source was told that when she began speaking with emily, emily had told her what players on the kraken inspired which character), but she started fancasting its characters as kraken characters, including alex wennberg, and so did her followers

kierra began to post a lot about the kraken, and caught their admin's attention, so much so that they flew her out to a game, gave her a custom jersey with BOOKTOK on the name plate, and got her premier glass seats at climate pledge [note: this had gotten her in trouble before this whole shitshow whirlwind even went down, because she was saying the most insane shit through the camera hole in the glass, and many people thought it was weird, such as "you can score in all three of my holes." that's a real thing she said, confidently, and filmed herself saying it]

she was posting really lewd things about wennberg on tik tok, and in his comments, and in doing so, her fans started doing it. worse, the kraken's admin was encouraging the behavior, posting thirst traps of the players, saying things like "this is for you, booktok 😉🌶😍" and it started getting out of hand, quickly, as you can guess

THE DRAMA:

at one point, felicia had enough of it (as she should), and posted an assortment of comments left on her social media and her husband's and said that while she'd made jokes and said things, a line had been crossed. she explained that since alex is her husband, she had a right, but when it went too far, she was going to speak out

alex had expressed discomfort at something one of kierra's followers had said, no one listened when felicia said okay, haha, no more, including the kraken social team because it was doing numbers for them, promoting the team, etc., and felicia snapped, and called them out

kierra's name was, of course, in the screenshots of over-the-line comments, and not covered by the text felicia had written on her instagram stories, so people (rightfully so, in my opinion, because she's fucking gross, and behaves BIZARRELY toward men) started going after kierra, and the shitstorm began

it should be pointed out that when felicia made her posts, if kierra had just apologized and let it be, none of this shit would have happened, but she didn't. she said that "she had been the one to make the nhl relevant" (that is a REAL QUOTE, you guys) and "make a small sport like hockey become important again" (also a real quote, because apparently to her, a $42 billion league is irrelevant), and that "people were just coming after the queen of booktok," which she later claimed she'd never said

people were pissed. a lot of people agreed with felicia, because no one, especially not a 28-year-old with a fully formed frontal lobe, would behave like that toward professional athletes, and kierra's spiral began.

when the kraken unfollowed kierra on all platforms and so did a lot of booktokers, her followers, and authors who didn't want to be involved with her drama, she switched gears. instead of blaming people being sensitive or "unable to take a joke," she started claiming that felicia was coming after her because of her skin tone (not true, felicia was going after the primary perpetrator of the weirdness, and the woman who she'd asked repeatedly to stop, and that the comments and jokes were making their family uncomfortable. in short, felicia and alex revoked consent to alex being the "wankbank of booktok", and kierra didn't listen or care)

IT GETS WORSE. once kierra switched to the statement that felicia's discomfort and remarks that what was happening was sexual harrassment was racially motivated, kierra's most loyal followers started going after not just felicia, but alex. there are running jokes online that swifties/k-pop fans are cruel, but kierra's fans gave them a run for her money, commenting that they hope felicia gets beat to death, that their kids get r****d, the list goes on, all in kierra's defense.

THE SCANDAL:

when kierra started claiming this was all because of her race, everything went off, and other black creators were infuriated that she was using her skin tone as a deflection of her bad behavior, along with many POC creators who felt it was a "deflection of accountability"

the longer she kept it up and refused to just apologize, let it go, and move on, the more people began digging. guess what they found? kierra's obnoxious reactions to books (including pucking around, which gained so much publicity from kierra's videos that dr. rath got picked up by a publishing company), were PAID. her media kit (what creators will e-mail or send to companies who want to pay them for content, in this case, bookish promotional content) with her prices for reaction videos was released to the masses. HERE are her prices for her reactions:

(and importantly, her paid content was not being disclosed as paid content. especially the many videos she made on emily rath's behalf, who put her onto hockey, the kraken, and to some, started this whole mess, which meant kierra was breaking the law). so now that this was leaked, what else did the masses find?

kierra had been invited to a NASCAR race and made two different drivers uncomfortable with the way she'd spoken to them and acted around them, so much so that one of them blocked her

she had made two or three players on the savannah bananas uncomfortable with her commentary on their looks and bodies, and her bizarre sexual remarks

she had previously called male-male romances and LGBTQIA+ romances "kinky" and "her favorite freaky pleasure" (maybe don't fetishize people loving who they want to love) and simply deleted the video and later comments asking why she took it down

that she had entered into a contract with the kraken. unspoken or physical, even my source doesn't know, but a contract nonetheless to post content promoting the team and its players in exchange for... we don't know that either, but that happened (and dissolved when all of this took place)

and that is the summary of everything that happened with kierra lewis and booktok. if you follow her, or like her, congratulations, but i'd advise you stay away if you don't. booktok isn't the first community online that she's used to make a profit, and won't be the last, and her frequently problematic behavior is not something i want any of you guys seeing or dealing with, because it's incredibly exhausting and frustrating. 💋