#and also the perennial classic

[icarus-suraki]

I have a small(ish) collection of witchcraft books, all of which I got for free when someone dropped them off as a library donation (we weren't going to add them to the collection, so I just took 'em). And I keep debating about passing them on to whoever might want them because, like, I'm not doing anything with them. They're just hanging out and taking up space. Most of the titles are still in print. A lot of them are basic Llewellyn publications. One is just a basic Big Blue Buckland. A number of them are by Cunningham or Campanelli (and Silver Ravenwolf lmao). So it's not like they're rare books.

But then I'll flip through one just to see if it should stay or go and I'll come across the most ridiculous made-up nonsense Golden Bough "secret European witch cult" sacred feminine bullshit that I have seen in many a year and I'm like "Fuck. Now I want to keep it."

[fandom]

Top 23 of 2023

Have you been aching to get your hot little hands on 52 weeks of data around original posts, likes, reblogs, and searches, all weighted and ranked and tied up into categories with a nice little bow on top? Well, today’s your day! It should come as no surprise that Artists on Tumblr reign supreme: from stunning traditional art, jaw-dropping digital art, fanart, sculptures, textile art—you name it, basically—this year’s list shows that Tumblr truly is the home for art and artists. Thank you, Artists on Tumblr, for enriching our dashboards day after day. 

Rounding out the top three, we have two iconic shows: Good Omens is live-action, and The Owl House is animated, but both have a heck of a love story at their core. The second season of Good Omens blessed us with not one but two ineffably exquisite ships, while the final season of The Owl House broke and then healed fans’ hearts in equal measure. Thanks, @danaterrace! Actually, come to think of it, the Good Omens finale kinda did the same in reverse. Thanks to you, too, @neil-gaiman! We can’t wait for season 3. 

Speaking of heartbreak and healing, Our Flag Means Death’s second season offered both in droves. The entire cast gave stellar performances, and fans couldn’t have been happier to see the kinds of representation the show displayed. Last year’s #1 topic, Stranger Things, may have dropped a bit, but trust us, you wouldn’t know it from the amount of meta, fanart, and fics in the tag. And did you hear about the live-action adaptations of both The Last of Us and One Piece? They were a preeeetty big deal this year, too. Check ‘em out if you haven’t yet (lol, of course you have). And we’d be remiss not to mention the hugely dedicated fans, fanartists, and fic writers devoting their time to all things Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Y’all deserve a little pizza, as a treat.

2023 was also a year for blockbuster movies, which of course hasn’t escaped anybody’s notice here on Tumblr. Barbie smashed box offices worldwide and left us reeling with every re-watch. How can one describe Greta Gerwig’s pink-filled opus? It certainly is one of the movies of all time. Meanwhile, with its incredible animation and soundtrack, Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse introduced us to a whole new multiverse of Spider-People, opening the portal to a veritable flood of incredible OCs. And then, of course, we got a fresh perspective on an old classic when cinephiles introduced Martin Scorscese’s cinematic masterpiece, Goncharov (1973), to a new generation of film aficionados who resoundingly agree that it is, in fact, the greatest mafia movie ever made. We’re so glad this underrated film finally got the acclaim it has long deserved.

In the realms of gaming and tech, the long-anticipated Baldur’s Gate 3 has basically become everyone’s new favorite D&D/dating sim combination. Of course, the Pokémon franchise, games, shows, and Hatsune Miku collabs remain perennial favorites. Elon Musk’s purchase of Twitter, sorry, we mean of course X, made waves across the internet. Similarly, the Reddit blackout drove Redditors to new venues, and Tumblr users welcomed the folks from r/196 with open arms—we’re huge fans of your memes, y’all, and you fit right in. Welcome, we’re glad you enjoy the chaos. Here’s a fun fact: if we included post metadata in Year in Review rankings, #polls, introduced in January of 2023, would have been the #5 topic on Tumblr this year. Phenomenal. 

And, oh right. Taylor Swift had kind of a big year, what with the albums, the epic global tour, and the movie and stuff. Fantastic work, @taylorswift, the Swifties on Tumblr thank you for everything.

This is Tumblr’s Year in Review.

Artists on Tumblr

Good Omens

The Owl House

Barbie

Pokémon

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

Critical Role

Goncharov

Taylor Swift

Genshin Impact

Stranger Things

The Last of Us

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Elon Musk

196

Star Wars

Our Flag Means Death

Crowley | Good Omens

LGBTQ

Cottagecore

Baldur's Gate 3

One Piece

Aziraphale | Good Omens

[artbyblastweave]

A tool I find generally pretty useful for thinking about and classifying superhero systems is the Wild Talents Axes of Design, a worldbuilding tool from an RPG that I have not and most likely will not ever play. The system categorizes and ranks superhero settings on four axes:

The Red Axis measures Historical Inertia, how much the existence of superhumans causes the timeline to diverge from our own. A high-red setting represents the standard implausibly-recognizable like-reality-unless-noted world-outside-your-window model. A low-red setting is a total alternate history.

The Gold Axis measures Superhuman Inertia (talent inertia in their internal jargon, but we've all got our own names for these assholes.) This one measures how closely superhumans hew to classic paradigms of heroism and villainy, as opposed to branching out into other societal roles or life outcomes. A high-gold setting is the prototypical endless monthly game of cops and robbers; A low-gold setting would be something like Wild Cards or Top 10, where career superheroes are a rounding error (or even a downright oddity) compared to people with powers.

The Blue Axis measures what they term The Lovely and the Pointless- essentially how much weirdness exists outside the superheroes themselves, or, more practically, how unified the setting's cosmology and power sources are. High-Blue settings are the bizarre and irreconcilable genre kitchen sinks full of aliens, gods, magicians, one million ways to get superpowers and three different kinds of time travel. Low Blue settings would be The Boys, Worm, or Wild Cards- any setting where there's a discrete reason that superhumans happened and nothing supernatural going on outside of that point of origin.

The Black Axis measures Moral Clarity, which is about what it sounds like. High Black Settings are the cartoonishly-clear-cut battles of good and evil, low black settings are omnidirectional amoral clusterfucks where the participants have superpowers.

(The joke, of course, being that if you crank all four colors up all the way, you end up with a full CMYK print, and a reproduction of the aesthetic of classic golden and silver age superhero faire.)

Obviously this isn't a perfect system- it suffers from the perennial, probably inevitable issue that the four of these don't granulate equally well but they feel the need to articulate five nodes for each of them, just to keep it neat- and consequentially it sometimes feels a little like they're struggling to justify why some of the arrangements that they're describing are meaningfully distinct from the nearest tick up or down the axis. I'm also not entirely sure how it integrates this fifth axis I think is pretty important- the question of the degree to which the public is aware of superhumans at all.

But it does provide some interesting and useful language for quick-and-dirty compare and contrast work. Watchmen is Low Blue, Low Black, Mid-Red High-Gold. Invincible is High-Blue Mid-Black High Red Mid-Gold. Worm is Low-Blue-Mid-Black-Low-Red-Mid-Gold. I don't even stand by these ratings necessarily, I just think it would be super neat going forward if I were able to throw out a phrase like "High-Blue interpretation of Superman" and successfully convey that it means we're finally gonna get to see Superman fight a wizard in live action, for example. I think there's slept-upon terminology available to us here

[cryptidghostgirl]

Humanity’s Most Favored Fantasy (Alastor x Reader)

Paring: Alastor x Reader

Description: It wasn't love. Alastor didn't feel love, not anymore. He'd lost that part of himself the day he died so it couldn't be love, could it?

Warnings: Look, I'm writing and it's not for a request. Angst. It's always angst. I just love Alastor's inhumanity, what can I say? This bitch is in denial. Also, bodies, blood, death, no gore but like, eh. Also Adam is in this one and he's his own warning. Loose Mistki quoting at one part. Also a loose Sappho quote “pale as grass” and self harm.

Word Count: 2,420

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask.

A/N My classics major side came out a little bit in this one lol. Also I have a big classics major side fic in the wings so if you guys like this, just wait. Also Sir Pentious is from the 1800s so he for sure had a classical education. Also the title came from an article I was reading about the history of witchcraft for one of my classes.

The most complex and yet the most simple of the human emotions. Feared by some, wielded by others, out of reach for many, perennial for more still, and taken as easily as a breath of air by a solemn few. What a strange thing, love.

It was this last category that bewitched Alastor. Even when he had been alive, he had never understood the people like that, the ones who took heartbreak in stride, the ones who shared any love they had the minute they felt it with everyone and everything. The ones who weren't paralyzed by potential loss or violent embarrassment.

The people who feared love made sense. It had a vast capacity for harm, it was able to destroy without a second thought. Even when it was good, love could be devastating. Those who wielded it as their weapon of choice nearly fell into a subcategory of this group. They used other people's fear of the matter against them or they lured people in to get what they wanted and threw them to the curb without a second glance.

Everyone on earth, living or dead, had felt at least once that love was out of their reach, Alastor reasoned. Hopelessness is one of the most vital parts of the human condition, after all.

Perennial was the category in which most people fell. Love came and went. It lived and died, but always returned like the plants he had named this grouping for.

Then there were people like Y/n. Not a day went by where she wasn't explaining how much she adored something random or telling people she loved them, throwing the word around as if it had no weight, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to love, to share love. When Angel had made some snide remark about everything being her alleged 'favorite thing,' Y/n had quickly replied, saying:

"Aren't I lucky for that? Isn't that just wonderful?"

Alastor couldn't tell in which category he fell or what his opinion was about that answer of hers. One thing he did know was that Y/n was to be avoided at all costs.

She was the typical sinner. Never too bad of a person when alive, but never too good either. She wore her hedonism like a badge of honor, living her afterlife in much the same way Alastor assumed she had lived her living life: in a constant state of indulgence.

It wasn't the typical form of being that takes a person's mind when they think of the word. No, Y/n didn't indulge in a reckless, Dionysian way. Instead, she devoured everything. Books, good food, music, friends, you name it. Y/n had a million stories about each and a million examples of the best they all had to offer on hand. She relished in all that every word had to offer.

Alastor had overheard her talking to Charlie one night about that. He hadn't meant to, he had just been wandering the hotel, unable to sleep and in need of some air, when he'd heard a slight commotion in the lobby. Hidden by his shadows, he had entered the familiar space to find an exhausted Charlie standing tensely before a bulletin board.

"God is in the details." Y/n was saying as she adjusted the plans pinned on the structure so they were easier to read, more cohesive, "Anything can be a work of art, don't forget that. It's what makes everything so undeniably worth it."

She was so utterly out of his reach. Not that Alastor wanted Y/n in his reach, no. How ridiculous would that be: the Radio Demon, the most feared overlord in all of Hell, getting butterflies because he heard a girl tell someone else she loved them and imagined it was him. No, that would be utterly foolish which was why it wasn't the case, couldn't be the case. He must be getting sick, that was why his stomach had felt weird.

"What are you reading?" he heard Sir Pentious ask as the snake demon took a seat on the couch beside Y/n.

Alastor was at the bar, sharing a drink with Husk. His ear twitched in their direction.

"It's a book discussing the changes in interpretations of Sappho's poetry over time." Y/n replied, her tone soft and even.

It felt like a salve against Alastor's ears. Husk raised an eyebrow towards his master but made no remark.

"Really? I didn't know you were interested in that sort of thing."

"I was actually a professor in the human world... living world? Whatever. I didn't work on Sappho, I worked on ancient medicine, but I always found her intriguing and lovely. I mean, phainetai moi is creating a diagnosed love, using all the language of medicine. How could it not capture my attention?"

"You know, if you look at Homer, the same language Sappho uses is also used to describe love. She is actually working off a preexisting cannon of love as something painful and destroying."

"Really?"

"Yes, and curse tablets tend to draw off medical writings quite a bit as well, especially those involved in love magic."

"Huh, that’s a neat little intersection I have yet to explore: medicine, magic, and love. I never knew you knew so much about this. You died in the 1890s, right?"

"Sometime around then."

"I should have guessed then, my mistake. Tell me, what was it like growing up with all this wonder at your finger tips? It was hard for me to even find a university with a classics department, let alone a good one. You’re lucky to have had it all right there."

Now that was an interesting idea to Alastor. A diagnosable love, a painful and deadly thing. Love as a curse, love as being shot through by an enemy spear, love as a god. It made more sense to him than anything else about the matter had. Unavoidable, not something self imposed. A cursed love, a medical love, something that controlled a person rather than vice versa.

He lay awake at night, unable to speak, pale as grass, thinking unwillingly of the way her lips curved to form words, of the way one could see the gears of her mind turning behind her eyes. He lay awake, unable to do anything else. He stared at the ceiling.

"Ah! Angel! Thank you!" Y/n exclaimed as he handed her the sweater he'd spotted her eyeing a few days before when they'd been for a walk around town, "This was so kind of you!"

Alastor watched as Y/n pulled the lanky demon into a hug which he reluctantly returned, looking down at her with a platonic version of the sort of fondness that was so forbidden to him.

"Great work Angel!" Charlie clapped excitedly, "That's a step in the right direction."

No, it wasn't love. Alastor Hartifelt didn't love, he had lost that ability the day he had died and he'd barely had it before that. It didn't matter that his heart skipped a beat, there was no truth to his upset stomach when he had to speak to her except something bad he must have eaten. The sleeplessness wasn't new, sleep had never been his friend so to speak, the two had never really gotten along. The reason it got so stuck in his head, the way she threw her affection around, was the carelessness of it all, the foolishness. Only, what he had overheard her saying to Charlie that night, that anything can be a work of art, were the words of someone who acted purely on intention, who did nothing without considered thought.

Y/n couldn't be a wielder of love. Alastor never once saw her manipulate someone or even really ask anyone for anything at all. There was no way she was scared and the way she freely gave took her out of the other two categories as well. It didn't make sense. The intention, the earnestness, the true meaning behind her actions and words that always seemed to shine through no matter what she did, was what had him stuck. She barley even fit into her own category because of it. Most people that threw love around the way she did had the words and actions lose their meaning over time but, somehow, that seemed never to be the case for her.

He pictured a life on earth. He pictured walking with her beneath the stars, the way the light of the moon would play gently across her skin. He pictured her in the recording studio, the one he'd worked at while alive, waiting by the door for him to finish his work and taking him by the hand, dragging him off into the unknown. He pictured waking up beside her in the morning, all messy hair and smiles. He pictured, he dreamed, he dissolved. The doctors diagnosed him and he went to see other people because he didn't like the answer they gave him.

Y/n pulled Vaggie from her seat at the bar, spinning the demon into an ungraceful waltz to the music Alastor was playing on the piano for the group. He nearly fumbled, nearly missed a note. She missed so many steps and it didn't matter because she was laughing, and so was Vaggie. She didn't have to be perfect, but he did.

They each smiled ear to ear while Charlie clapped along to the beat. He imagined himself in Vaggie's place, he could practically feel his hands on the gentle curve of her hips. The world was half real.

It wasn't love because he didn't know her, he never spoke to her. It wasn't love because that was impossible, he couldn't love. It wasn't love because that was an ability he'd left in the world of the living. It wasn't love because she was too kind, too good, and he was nothing if not brutal and bloodstained to his core. It wasn't love because it couldn't be. It wasn't love because if it was...

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

He repeated the mantra to himself. Alone walking the halls, in meetings with the other overlords, making tea in the kitchen. He whispered the words to himself like a prayer.

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

Y/n was out of reach, untouchable, destined to join the ranks of Heaven while he remained rotting in Hell. It couldn't be anything else, no other future was possible which was why it wasn't love. She was made of all the things a human is and he was made of those a monster is. She was bright, she shined, and Alastor fed off the light of others, burning it out into darkness. He refused to do such a thing to her, he couldn't. Not when she was practically the sun. Not when he wasn't even a star but the black hole of the earth revolving around her.

He saw her holding Husk's hands over the bar top as he told her something, a look of deep concern etched into her features. He watched her pick Nifty up by the waist so the little demon could dust the tops of the bookshelves. He watched her, he waited, he would always be waiting because nothing could ever happen. Nothing would ever happen, he wouldn't allow it and goddamnit it wasn’t love.

It was also impossible, Alastor reminded himself. He had left that part of himself when he had died, it hadn't made the journey with him. The most favored fantasy of his own humanity, or what was left of it. The little spark of the person he had been that glowed softly from the center of his chest. Alastor had tried to douse it, tried to kill it, tried to rip it from himself but all he'd ever ended up with was bloody hands and torn flesh and the light pulsed on in its eternal hunger, its eternal hope, its eternal harm.

And then it was too late. Then, she really was gone, double dead or however anyone wanted to call it. Adam dropped her lifeless corpse to the ground and Alastor's world crashed in around him because no matter how many times he had said it wasn't, no matter how he had avoided her, no matter what he had done it had been love, or the beginnings of it at least. The closest thing to it he'd ever really felt. His hand tightened around the staff of his microphone. Alastor bared his teeth, he saw red.

"What have you done?"

Adam turned to him, grinning. Y/n deserved a viking funeral, to be surrounded by flowers and sent off in a burning boat. She deserved a Greek burial, reduced to ashes and buried with all the proper rites that made sure she would make it to the afterlife. She deserved, she was owed, he was angry.

"What." Adam laughed, "Was she your little bitch?"

Alastor didn't think he had any room left inside him for the fury, but found his rage redoubled at Adam's words.

"What did you just call her?"

"Your little bitch." Adam smirked, "She was a cute one, shame you all are gonna have to burn. Woulda kept her for myself."

Adam looked down, nudging Y/n's lifeless corpse with the toe of his shoe. Alastor attacked. There was no thought, no order, no grace, there was only the anger. Only now that it was too late, was he at last able to let loose, be less than perfect, exist in an unintentional manner. Or was it that this was the true meaning of intention -- reckless abandon? Y/n probably would have thought that. It didn't matter. It didn't matter what she would have thought, what any of them did think. It was too late. There was no more time and Alastor had come to terms with his own frailty a second past the buzzer. He would never forgive himself.

"You will pay for what you have done. You will die for what you have done."

Because it had been love, all along and Alastor, who had thought himself above it all, had been in that first group. He had been scared, not of what love could do but of what Y/n would, of what she had already done to him. Now it was too late and he would never get another chance.

"You will fucking die!"

----

Part Two --> → Humanity's Most Favored Fantasy pt. 2

[rei-ismyname]

Magneto's very specific revenge

After Mags is resurrected by Eric the Red (long story,) he is fuming about the X-Men and has plans for them. They're busy being overpowered by Mesmero, however, so he tracks them down.

Swole Magneto

Mags strolls in and defeats Mesmero off panel, because he's a chump and Magneto is not. He wipes the floor with the X-Men, including full power Phoenix, then laughs maniacally. Classic Mags. Notably, he looks far more physically capable and intimidating than he has before. He's ripped, he's confident, and in seconds he solo'd a foe the entire team was struggling with. Silver Age Magneto was cowardly and relied on abused lackeys to carry out his schemes, often fleeing as soon as he was in danger. That guy is gone and in his place is an antagonist who's brave, extremely intelligent, capable, and a almost insurmountable threat. He's still fantastically dramatic, but his histrionics owe more to Shakespeare than Snidely Whiplash.

Turns out he's really not happy about Chuck and Moira's baby tampering, nor his previous defeats at the X-Men's hands (or the Alpha thing backfiring.) He takes them all to one of his volcano bases, restrains and depowers them. He Then Magneto explains the specific revenge he has in mind for the perennial thorn in his side that is the X-Men. It's complicated and cruel but utterly terrifying.

They're to remain without powers, restrained and regressed to the physicality of 6 month olds. He constructed a saccharine-sweet Nanny robot to be their carer and their jailer. 'An eye for an eye' he ominously decrees. I kinda wish he did this to Chuck instead, but he's off banging the bird queen in Greece.

His immediate thirst for vengeance quenched, Mags leaves them to it and flies into space - to the nearly complete base known as Asteroid M. Where old Magneto hung out in a depressing lair with his terrified underlings, this Magneto has the power to reach space without technology, and the skills/resources to establish an asteroid base - a throne above the Earth.

Making the robot look like Moira is so funny

The X-Men are utterly in his power, with a creepy robot assigned to keep them alive and miserable. They fucking hate it, understandably. Unable to move, completely dependent on this awful automaton for their basic needs. Wolverine starts to crack. Cyclops maybe likes it a little - I don't see anyone else getting a bath and massage.

The extent of Wolverine's pain is visceral and existetially horrifying - he gets desperate quite quickly, his usual bravado shattered. Banshee and Nightcrawler seem to be doing a bit better, but Logan is not used to being helpless (plus his years of medical trauma haunt him.)

Days pass, and Ororo has a plan to escape this hell. Drawing on her upbringing as a thief (and the dubious claim of having the physicality of a child at 6 months old,) she finally gets her lockpicks out of her hair and attempts the near impossible.

After a short flashback to Achmed and the Houdini tests he put Ororo through, there's a brief hope spot where it looks like she'll succeed. Unfortunately Nanny returns, notices, and Storm is undone. She does not take it well. Of course, this is particularly sadistic torture, so who would?

Meanwhile, on Asteroid M, Mags thinks about how much of a rich genius he is (and to be fair his accomplishments are impressive, especially for a once-broke self taught evil scientist.) Magneto's interest in learning, especially science, is highlighted. His thoughts also drift to his beloved Magda, his former wife and mother to Pietro, Wanda, and Anya. He's not doing great, and torturing the X-Men isn't making him as happy as he expected. Despite his shitty actions, the seeds of Well-intentioned extremist with pathos Magneto are being sown.

Mags notices some aberrant readings on one of his many machines, and thinks that Nanny should have sorted that out. Better safe than sorry. The escaped X-Men unleash on him but while they're doing better than last time, the best they can achieve is forcing a stalemate of sorts but Magneto takes their best again and does not fall.

Continuing the theme of Phoenix power being a double edged sword, she inadvertently destroys a control panel during the fight. As everyone knows, a destroyed control panel is the Achilles Heel of any evil base and it starts crumbling/blowing up. Magneto manages to escape in the nick of time and learns the value of redundancy in data storage. After a dramatic speech he bounces to do more Magneto shit, figuring on balance he came out ahead. His volcano base and the data/gadgets within are no more, but so are the X-Men. Nobody remains to foil his plans, or do they?

Obviously they survived, but they're split up for nearly a year. Cyclops and Marvel Girl each think the other is dead, a dynamic that powered so much of the drama all the way to the Dark Phoenix saga. Magneto is back, better than ever, and he's here to stay. His actions will change how the entire world behaves while he starts a journey of his own. I believe this is the first time we see him shirtless too, setting up that he's attractive and loves being naked.

[rowanthestrange]

The Master And Margarita Jacket

(Matthew Sweet’s Doctor Who version…but with a frisson of Bulgakov’s)

It’s done! With every bit of unphotographical glittery metallic paint that I can’t capture on camera even if my iphone skills weren’t rubbish.

@spoonietimelordy, @rearranging-deck-chairs, @bearinabandana and everyone else who Did The Reading of that one ‘I Am The Master’ novel but I’ve forgotten to tag because i’m so sleep deprived i can’t think any more but hopefully other people will, assemble!

Detailed closeups and explanations (with some spoilers) below:

Starting front top right side (face on). -Margarita herself, biting a mushroom. A more Cockatoo beak than Macaw, with red face instead of white, to make what exactly she is more mysterious. -The Master Who logo here is just gold, any shading didn’t look right when it was so thin.

Front top right pocket. Purple, of course.

-Next section down are these three. The ‘Never Stop Growing’ patch is my second favourite patch of the bunch. So many Master Themes, and plot relevant. -Then the little ‘Best Buds’ with the heart in the middle. I was inordinately proud of that idea. (Buds, budding, bigenerated vibe). -And then ‘Obscene Lotus’. That’s mentioned early in the book, and while it’s just described as a big purplish lotus, there’s so much sexual charging in that scene that, well, you gotta.

Me, reusing the ‘budding’ pun in a different capacity? It’s more likely than you think.

-The cover of the Penguin Clothbound Classic version of the original The Master And Margarita, that took multiple days to complete and so much agony. -The patch is a blank one that I bought, then painted the design to look like one of those stamps people sometimes put in books. Painted the border the same colour, then tea-stained it to look like old paper. Certainly in real life the colour comes out nicely. I couldn’t find his autograph (and sadly there’s an unrelated artist with the same name lol) but he got his doctorate in Wilkie Collins so I just looked up examples of that guy’s writing and tried to give it a bit of that vibe. Hopefully it’s the thought that counts. But hey, if anyone ever meets him and gets me a signature sample I can just redo it.

General mushroom patch - I like the fire kind of vibe and the looming.

To the other side!

So. You’re asking what’s with the daisy theme. Fair. So Margarita is also another name for a daisy in some languages. I choose to lean into that because it’s also the widely known symbol of Three - with that scene where he talks to Jo and recounts how a hermit living on a mountain helped dispel his depression by getting him to focus on the beauty of the flower (“and it was the most daisiest daisy”). Given that Three is essentially a character in the book, this felt like the vibe we’re going for. It’s perennial. It also is a healer of bruises and wounds, how can that not be relevant meta wise too to the Master’s new companion, hm? And okay yes, Mikhail does say he’s not a botanist, but if you can think of another way to get that message across other than botanical illustration page…

I like the patch because lightbulb, idea, full of mushrooms etc.

-‘I Am The Master’ being the name of the book the story is contained in, plus Fun With Identity. -Next the one bit of Real Art that I attempted to copy in glittery acrylics - Magritte’s ‘The Treachery Of Images’ or more commonly known ‘Ceci n’est pas une pipe’. The story not only of the Master’s experiences recently, but the story’s themes of hallucinations and deceptions; as well as being the symbol of Russian!Brigadier. -This patch is great isn’t it? A play on the Master’s apparent alcoholism or Russian blending in as you prefer, and of course, The Lighthouse of Martin!Doctor fame.

-Mikhail’s guitar for playing Brown Sugar and other ominous inference songs. -The formula triangle of Love, Food, and Music (I couldn’t think of a self-evident way to show his approach to food - Russian dumplings are, well, not exactly distinct). On its side so the glittery pink triangle points in a certain direction because he’s escaped places and I can do ominous inferences too Sweet. -Maybe controversial? There is a failed love story component in here though, that I just couldn’t leave unmarked. The Doctor, K’vo, and Jo all have their parts to play in that.

Now for the arms:

Here’s the right-side looking-on arm. -I repainted this mushroom patch to be the orange and green of K’vo’s. -You’ve already seen the long image of it above, so here’s just a snippet closeup of the motif that goes along both arms. Daisies linked in a chain with the words ‘daisiest daisy’ (if you wonder why everything’s outlined by the way, a) i like the style, and b) it makes glitter infinitely more legible and clearer to see if there’s a dark matt border around it breaking it up, especially with something as variable coloured as denim). There’s the sunflower in the middle because Margarita loves her sunflower seeds.

This is the other arm. Margarita holding a margarita in a margarita. What’s more to add? I used my shittest white (mixed with my fabric medium as everything else has been at every step) rather than @yesokayiknow’s excellent suggestion of Liquitex, which has saved me everywhere else, including those light patches. But here shitty kids basics acrylic is translucent enough to do some excellent work pretending to be glass and ice. The parrot patch has been altered to make the beak entirely black and her face red instead of macaw white, to keep her species ambiguous as literary theme demands.

To the back!

This Master Who logo is bigger, so it has the Master’s purple highlights like bruising.

Here is a small UNIT patch I modified to be a Russian one, globe focused on their continent (roughly). Sweet just translated the word ‘unit’ for Russian!Brigadier’s group, and the text is the re-cyrilliced version of that.

Skipping to the bottom…

Here referencing O’s collection of Doctor Information, Sweet adding to that with having distinct scrapbooks. ‘Manuscripts Don’t Burn’ is a line from Bulgakov’s The Master And Margarita (spoken by Satan in fact, mhmm) and became something of a rallying cry for oppressed Russian artists. I have ‘Author Unknown’ for the obvious meta with his and the Doctor’s memories, and likewise, the fact that flames are clearly present and burning lets the viewer come to whatever conclusion they like. #133 was chosen for the simple fact that in my copy of Bulgakov’s novel, and the one depicted on the front of the jacket, it is page 133 which starts the chapter The Hero Enters, where we meet The Master who has renounced all other names (who is very much, as Interference notes, the Doctor). They are glitter paint titles done on Hemline repair patches, black, brown, white, and navy blue. I know anything too painty on that area of the back will risk a lot of wear, and these are easily replaced when necessary (if still hours of lettering).

To the left most side…

This was the most expensive patch I bought, £12. But worth it. The mushroom stalk is silk.

Here I depicted in silhouette the scene of the Master climbing up to the Doctor on the giant mushroom. I chose silhouette so as not to draw the eye too much. I also added some 2ply black-black glitter cotton as part of his climbing equipment, attached on by some silver stitches for the…things I can’t remember the name of. It gives it a bit more 3D effect, but also keeps the thread close enough it shouldn’t pull on anything.

And at its base we have a reference to Mikhail’s chosen middle name. I chose to believe it’s relevant, Sweet’s too deep into this for it not to be. This is a cover I edited to highlight the namesake who actually travelled Russia and collected the tales of this book, and indeed, it does include the story of Koschei The Deathless. I edited the robe to be red instead of its original yellow, and added the quintessential Time Lord collar. But I think it’s perfectly passable. This is iron on transfer paper (dark) onto a very light grey polycotton to turn it into a patch. It…*cough* hasn’t had its edges finished or strictly been attached yet, but that’s a bit of handwork I can do as and when.

So finally back up to the middle

I’ve expanded out @spoonlesss-artbook fantastic angel-winged Margarita’s Master art. The Redbubble bag was only that big as it was (hemmed with bostik fabric glue like a true pro and attached as a panel) so it cut off a little, and it didn’t go the whole way anyway, so now we get some endings of the feathers, some all the way up to the arm of the jacket. I tried to blend it into the fire, one creature of both. And trying to get a multidimensional feel, boundary breaking. And again, very glittery irl so plays very well with the fire theme. It was fun when it came to colour-matching particularly the blue wing at the top, because the glitter gives it a bit of a sheen. I blunted it with a few careful washes of black so it still sparkles but is the right colour in most angles.

The Redbubble edit cuts @spoonietimelordy’s signature, so I copied it from the original and moved it over to the left side in some sparkly silver. Also internet doxxing my real life self on the bottom of the back as my own signature.

Doesn’t look like the sort of thing that would take weeks when you see it all together, but I’m really happy with it. I’m so grateful for everyone who’s shown their brilliant art to me and shared posts about painting all these years, cus it allowed me to absorb stuff and let me come out of the gate swinging! It feels thoroughly addictive. Even if I only know ‘use tiny brush’ for almost everything and glitter metallic is great for hiding sins. (And a ‘Ha!’ in the face of my mother keeping me away from it my whole life because of mess - I never got even a single speck on any clothes that wasn’t this jacket. I could’ve been doing this for years rather than just picking up a brush at the age of thirty-damn-one. But at least I’ve got it now).

And thanks to Matthew Sweet for feeding the worms in my brain too.

[lttawnymadison]

TGCF Thai Edition Foreword by MXTX (2018 novel version)

Ghosts and demons have a long history in Chinese culture. Literary works themed around occult records that were popular during the Wei, Jin, and the Northern and Southern dynasties such as “In Search of the Supernatural” still remain as entertaining today as they once were. At the same time, “Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio” from the Qing dynasty gave the ability to love to all things inhuman, from ghost ladies, to fox demons, to a flower spirit who falls in love with a young scholar and comes to visit him in abandoned temples and houses at night. They were far more lovesick than actual flesh and blood humans.

In 1989, the movie “A Chinese Ghost Story” was born, and became a perennial classic in the decade to follow. A little girl who hated reading watched this movie, back then, and fell in love with the story of the incredibly beautiful ghost lady with her grievances, exorcism arts that call forth a spectacle of lightning and thunder, great martial artists who soar through the sky and dive through the earth, and last but not least, the myriad ghosts and monsters who like to peel skin, pull apart limbs and tear out hearts and lungs...that little girl fell head over heels for it, indeed.

Still...all this combined still can’t fully explain where my fondness for mysterious supernatural things came from.

One problem has always been sticking in my mind, though: why is it always ‘gorgeous ghost ladies crazy with love’? Why not ‘gorgeous ghost men crazy with love?’

Problems always have solutions. Luckily for me, this is a problem I can find a solution to by myself. And thus Hua Cheng was born.

Red garments. Skin as white as snow. Moves around without a trace. Magic unfettered.

Maybe it’s because I cut out the whole thing about a ghost’s aura of grudges, but sometimes I feel that he’s more like a fox demon. While the ascetic gege is meditating, he’ll be sitting there lazily sunbathing on a rock, red fluffy tail shining in the light and caressing the back of the ascetic gege’s hand. He’ll quickly pull his tail back to his chest and sit there behaving himself while his gege sits there meditating. He’ll sit there just to be that person’s company, but also constantly shows off his fur in the most noble and regal of manners... (okay I’m getting sidetracked).

The period while I was writing Tian Guan Ci Fu was not an easy period for me. To tell you the truth, I was in a very bad place mentally back then, always drowning in stress and pain that I couldn’t get myself out of. Yet every time I got to a Hualian scene, I’d feel like I was making some delicious sweets for myself, and even if this may sound like I’m tooting my own horn, if a single piece of sweets can reach your hand and you feel that it’s delicious, too, I’ll be ten times as happy.

Let me bless my readers in Thailand with that spell: May heaven’s officials bless you, and no paths be bound (Tianguancifu, baiwujinji)!

———————————————

Translation source: https://x.com/faelicy/status/1428555536635731973

[lolo3hwriting]

The White Lily Greenhouse - How Would It Work?

Pure Vanilla Cookie has always been a favorite character to me because of his hobby of gardening. As someone who gardens as well as studies horticulture, it’s fun to see all of the gardens and plants he has in the story. The most notable example for me is the White Lily Greenhouse because it plays such an important role in Pure Vanilla’s character and story. He built it as a place to relax and to enjoy the white lilies he loves so much. But it made me wonder, how in the world would he manage it? Realistically it would take a lot of effort, and considering it's a private greenhouse within his castle, Pure Vanilla would most likely take care of it all alone.

Before I get into anything, I wanted to talk about the specific type of lilies that Pure Vanilla grows. The character White Lily Cookie is based on lilies in general, but most significantly the Madonna Lily. However, I couldn’t find much information about growing Madonna Lilies (Lilium candidum) in greenhouses specifically, so most of the information I have is from growing Easter Lilies (Lilum longiflorum) or lilies (Genus Lilum) in general in greenhouses. The growing requirements are mostly the same, but might have a few slight differences.

Specific Requirements for Growing Lilies and Greenhouses

(Diagram of a bulb, image taken from here)

So first, I wanted to explain briefly about the morphology of lilies and how that impacts their management. Most lilies grow from bulbs, which are specialized structures made up of a short fleshy stem enclosed by thick, fleshy leaves. At the bottom of a bulb is the base plate where the stem, leaves, and roots grow from. One way to propagate lilies is through bulblets (also called bulbils), small bulbs that grow from the base plate, which can be removed and planted on their own. However, the most common way is through bulb scales where the first (and sometimes second) outer portion of the leaf scales are removed and planted. But whatever the case, both the bulblets and bulbs scales need to go though some period of cold temperatures to break their dormancy. This means you can plant them in the fall and let them stay over the winter, or you could put them in a refrigerator to chill. Considering the Vanilla Kingdom is in a mountainous region and high up in the sky, I’m sure they can be put outside before transferring them to the greenhouse.

Heating and lighting are two important factors in making lilies grow well. Lilies need full sun, which is about 6 hours per day. Generally a south facing greenhouse will have more light exposure, otherwise you may need artificial lighting. Lilies will start growing when temperatures are warm enough, so greenhouses usually aim for 60 F, but they can also grow well up to 75 F. I'll discuss how heating and lighting might work for the white lily greenhouse.

Although lilies are perennials and bloom year after year if you maintain them, most ornamental gardens will plant new bulbs every year because old bulbs won’t produce as much or as big flowers as younger bulbs do. This would mean Pure Vanilla would have to dig up old bulbs and plant new ones every year, unless he has some type of special magic that will make them bloom as big and numerous consistently.

Weeding and pest management are always something to keep in mind with greenhouses, but if you don't let them become a problem then it's pretty easy to deal with. Proper sanitation like removing weeds before they produce seeds, removing plant debris and dead plants, and having clean growing media will all help prevent problems. I think Pure Vanilla is vigilant enough to do all of that.

Historical Greenhouses

(A classic greenhouse from England, image taken from here)

In the past, greenhouses were heated just by the sun or with additional heating like furnaces, hot water, or steam. This meant that temperature control was not very precise and had to be fiddled with in order for the greenhouse to be properly heated. If this was the case, I think there would have been some type of boiler specifically for the greenhouse situated at a higher elevation so that the hot water/steam could be carried by gravity into the greenhouse. Water for irrigation had to be brought in unless you had a nearby water pump. Carrying water in would have taken a lot of effort, not to mention that you would have to do watering by hand, which would have been tedious for one person. However, I doubt that Pure Vanilla would mind with his patient nature and enthusiasm for gardening.

The cost of glass and steel to build the greenhouse itself would have been expensive. But taking into account that Pure Vanilla was a king, he probably didn’t have much trouble with the cost of construction or equipment. 

The Vanilla Kingdom is based on Germanic countries, and those countries have a long history of using greenhouses. During the 16th and 17th centuries places like England, France, Italy, and the Netherlands had greenhouses to grow exotic plants that they collected. So the locale and inspiration for the kingdom lines up.

The Modern Approach

(A modern Dutch style greenhouse, image from here)

Considering the Vanilla Kingdom had the waffle bots and advanced technology, it would be reasonable that Pure Vanilla could have access to more modern greenhouse technology similar to what we have today. Things like automatic misting systems, electrical and gas powered heating, and artificial greenhouse lighting. Not to mention all the sensors and timers that can help automate things. However, I’ve seen greenhouses built pretty recently that still use hot water pipes to heat the greenhouse and manually watering their plants. Seeing that Pure Vanilla is more old fashioned and traditional, he could have also run his greenhouse using old school methods. 

Of course, all of this can be hand waved with magic but I like to think that the creation of spells is also considered special techniques that have to be learned and trained. I'm sure that Pure Vanilla or even White Lily Cookie could have developed some type of specialized magic to grow plants easier, similar to how in real life new technology is constantly being developed in order to more efficiently grow plants.

Sources:

https://wyoextension.org/publications/html/B1185R/

[spoiledblogif]

hey! love the story so far, i was reading through the asks and i feel very targeted as a perennial zevran fan who immediately went for R, haha.

has anyone asked this classic question: what would the characters do if they were in a fake dating scheme with the MC to infiltrate and event?

ha! I'm also a Zev fan, so I'm sure that factored into it somewhere.

As for the question, no? I don't think anyone's brought this up specifically.

R would have no problem playing along, but it'd also be the kind of thing that'd make them catch feelings if they didn't have them already. Seeing MC as something other than a student or Carter's kid would be a big "oh no" moment.

Z has an iron will when it comes to just about everything. But deep down, they've also always wondered what it'd be like to have that kind of connection with someone. So spending a night playing the part with MC would quickly go from "pretend" to "this isn't real and that's killing me."

As for the Kestrel, I can see them turning it into a game. They'd love the chance to flirt openly with MC and stand a little too close. Then after everything goes back to status quo, they'd realize that they MISS it.

[schismusic]

Nine Inch Nails' The Fragile (and me) at 25

It turns out it's very hard for me to talk about Nine Inch Nails on this blog. Not only because it's a band whose catalogue I explored in a very, very weird manner (essentially anything after 2005, barring Hesitation Marks, is terra ignota to me, a guy who fucking shelled out fifty euros as a fourteen-year-old to go see Trent Reznor perform live as his first ever paid gig) but also because what I do know about them has indelibly altered how I function, not just as a musician but as a person as well. Issue is: The Downward Spiral turned thirty last March. Your usual suspects and I ended up giving it another whirl. I hadn't heard it in full in, at that point, a good five years if not more – my memories of it were confused at best. Of course, hearing the whole thing after so long reminded me of the absolute paradigm shift the record was for me (and, doubtless, for many others as well) which led to me finally biting the bullet.

There is another Nine Inch Nails record hitting a special anniversary this year. It perennially exists in the shadow of the other two "classic" NIN records, mostly due to its perceived length, width of scope, breadth of intent, intensity. I'm not a Nine Inch Nails historian, despite the profound interest the band has always sparked within me. I will not pretend to have any special insight to offer within the recording process, the songwriting, the psychology behind any NIN release at all – and especially not a release as personal, as layered, as complicated, and ultimately as definitive as this one. Anyone with ears will however have to agree with this: sure, it might not have singles as iconic, it might not be as concise, it might not capture the zeitgeist as well as its predecessors, but The Fragile hit its twenty-fifth anniversary with what we can only assume to have been the same grace as works like Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, Homer's Odyssey, Nintendo R&D1's Super Metroid. It's not even a contest. Pretty Hate Machine, barring a couple of incredible songs that would be absolute standouts in any other discography, is mostly just cute and quite unfocused in a number of crucial ways that make it breathe stilted compared to what's to come. Broken and The Downward Spiral still hit like a truck with very little rough spots – they remain lean, efficient pieces of slaughter machinery – but, as acutely noted by recurring blog guest Francesco Farabegoli, their reliance on heavy guitars seems to be more a byproduct of historical coincidence than that of genuine affection, on Reznor's part, to that specific brand of aggression. As such, it's easier to see them retrospectively as double-bound to phenomena like the Seattle sound's overnight success, or the surprisingly big following garnered by genres like death metal and projects like Ministry. None of this applies to The Fragile. Every single sound design decision in The Fragile stands as well alone as it does within the context of the whole NIN discography up to that point – including the Quake soundtrack, which (if not for its inherent ties to an external vision, not directly pertaining to anyone in the band) might actually be its closest peer in a number of ways.

Following up on the more abstract moments of Quake, for starters, The Fragile by and large foregoes the grid-like structure that even The Downward Spiral still abode to. As a result, most of the album's songs retain a surprising "live" feel to them; however, it has to be noted that the sounds themselves are imprecise, artisanal, acoustically coherent to their own reality, believable within the context of a hypothetical recording space: somewhat damaged, in most scenarios. The irony of saying this about a record whose singles include, among other things, humongous-sounding digitally distorted walls of electric guitars and actual breakbeats does not escape me, of course; but tracks like The Great Below (one of the album's thematic centerpieces) are ultimately so enhanced by the unnaturally warbled synth strings, the alien-sounding acoustic guitars or whatever that fucking pluck even is, the single-tracked lead vocals that it's actually impossible to unhear it, once you've heard it. In other words, The Fragile's ultimate superiority lies within its decision to sound – plain and simple – like it is dying.

What most popular rock and rock-adjacent acts of the 1990s made finally clear is the inextricable connection between grief and anger, mourning and fury. On average, the more personal the record, the clearer the connection between the two. In Utero, Dirt, the more politically charged branches of emo, the bands that most openly associated themselves with the nu metal image all end up converging onto an angst-filled paradox of vehement depression, or abulic bloodlust, if you'd rather. This is also the case with The Downward Spiral – a record that conveniently expresses its sad moments in the form of exactly that: sad moments (A Warm Place and Hurt, to name names). I am also conveniently leaving aside the more overtly sexual side of all the records and movements mentioned – but ultimately, bloodlust and appetite are not just metaphors of destruction, if you catch my drift. All of this somehow ends up actually coalescing into virtually any given second of The Fragile's hour-and-a-half runtime. The irony is that this exact coincidence of sounds and feelings looks a lot like your average sixty-year-old who takes up the habit of looking at obituaries posted on the streets and put in local newspaper – an exquisitely Abruzzese habit, from which I am not exempt.

Pointedly enough, a couple of tracks on the record openly tie into the then-recent demise of Trent Reznor's grandmother Clara, the woman who encouraged him to actually pursue a serious career in music. It gets particularly grim when you realize the instrumental I've just linked above this paragraph – candidly titled I'm Looking Forward to Joining You, Finally – has one single thing written under its title in the CD's booklet: the chilling epigraph "for Clara". I spent a lot of time in a cemetery on November 2nd, 2024, as my family and I waited for the Day of the Dead mass to start. Everyone in town had reunited in the graveyard, with the hilarious result that the place in question was more populated – and noisier, regrettably – than the actual town itself. A literal necropolis, then: a city of the dead, as in quite literally built with them: the little family mausoleums and the big structures comprising multiple assorted burial recesses, if you squint, look like condominiums, late nineteenth-century roofed avenues, suburban villas. Then, those who populate these areas, of course very much alive, speak of things pertaining mostly to people who are alive – and boil with the self-destructive rage pertaining to people who are still alive (self-destuctive, that is, only insofar as other people they know no longer are alive).

I was born on July 11th, 1999; as such, I am about two months older than The Fragile. The fact that this particular record would turn twenty-five the same year as me imposed a redde rationem of some kind: finally face this behemoth, advertised to be more depressing, more horrifying, dirtier and more suffocating than any other NIN record was. And so I did. Mere days after the record's anniversary, my girlfriend would tell me she wasn't feeling the spark anymore. As usual, she'd called it right – neither was I, as hard to admit as it was. Grandpa stays buried, much to everyone's chagrin, and I am nowhere closer to making my own Russian Ark than I was when I posted my last piece on here. I fumbled a cute-looking girl a week ago and while on the one hand I knew this was gonna happen and I was going to take it in stride, on the other hand this very much did not happen, which led me to finally listen to Justin Broadrick's Jesu (more on this in another post: it's probably gonna be a fun time, unlike this one). A couple of other things happened – a British girl hit on me after my band played a local underground music club, and then forgot to actually follow suit with her actual plans, luckily for me seeing as she looked to be quite drunk already – but the point still stands: I am the one looking at obituaries, blindly reading on, recognizing last names with a grimace, refusing to engage with my own fallibility.

So twenty-five years on, we have to face the music. Reznor has, so far, never made anything as intense and personal and calculated and brutal and perfect in the etymological sense of the word as The Fragile. Doing so would, in all likelihood, kill him. With Teeth is a record that admits a form of defeat: I'll take a quiet life, I'll take a rock quartet with synths, I don't fucking care about perfection any longer. Hesitation Marks deals in different forms of anxiety, more befitting for a man (at the time) nearing fifty, with a wife and children and an Academy Award or two sitting on his shelf somewhere. Both are mostly cute – I will go so far as to admit I have an actual soft spot for Hesitation Marks, making it the only NIN record outside of the classics that I willingly go out of my way to listen to in full – and ultimately inconsequential. I guess I can certainly aspire to be as inconsequential and cute as these records are, knowing there will forever be a record like The Fragile somewhere behind my back, hiding in the shadows.

[catchingbigfish]

wip re-intro | might've been, never was

detail from the wounded deer, frida kahlo

tag: #wip: mbnw status: drafted

summary: Lily and her friends thought life would've gone differently. They're in their thirties and they're all waiting for their real lives to begin. When one of them learns a method to adopt other bodies, the group starts to use it for fun and to get ahead in life. It seems great, but they're slowly changing in ways they can't understand, and when one of the group takes it too far the rest has to figure out whether to join in or how to stop it if not.

themes & vibes: ensemble casts and found family, body swapping as a metaphor for the ethics of writing and also as a metaphor for being transgender, a love letter to being mentally ill in your 30s, the struggle of adult friendships, the good and terrible parts of codependence and interdependence, when trauma turns into rage, stabby feminism, models of healthy and wildly unhealthy ways to relate to other people

genres: dark litfic, satire, magical realism

comps: tbd since you can't comp your own work, otherwise the comp would just be conversion

character list under the cut

characters

Lily. NB magazine column writer, might as well be married to Jack, post-therapy mentally ill and desperate to reclaim some of her lost adolescence

Jack. Transfemme egg. Been dating Lily since high school, proud cat-parent, and classic hip-hop super-fan. Wishes she were more of a douchebag.

Oliver. Jack's best friend and co-worker, elder of the group, chronically single but married to the idea of getting married and having a family

Heather. Lily's best friend, aspiring influencer with a few dozen followers, reality TV junkie party-girl with an intense fed job

Emily. Lily and Heather's perennial third wheel. Depressed step-mom and MFA student who's sweet in the "fight, flight, or fawn" sort of way

Alyssa. The closest thing Amelia will ever find to a twin flame, but in the totally platonic even though they've made out to get away from creepy dudes. Her deepest shame is being salutatorian in both high school and college.

Amelia. Constantly mistaken for Alyssa, except when they're kissing. Her deepest shame is beating Alyssa for valedictorian both times and not thinking she deserved it.

Matthew. Heather's on-again, off-again asshole boyfriend who's been trying to get his next great American novel published since he was 22 even though he still hasn't finished it

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Peter Smith at AP:

From its towering white steeple and red-brick facade to its Sunday services filled with rousing gospel hymns and evangelistic sermons, First Baptist Church of Alexandria, Virginia, bears many of the classic hallmarks of a Southern Baptist church. On a recent Sunday, its pastor for women and children, Kim Eskridge, urged members to invite friends and neighbors to an upcoming vacation Bible school — a perennial Baptist activity — to help “reach families in the community with the gospel.” But because that pastor is a woman, First Baptist’s days in the Southern Baptist Convention may be numbered. At the SBC’s annual meeting June 11-12 in Indianapolis, representatives will vote on whether to amend the denomination’s constitution to essentially ban churches with any women pastors — and not just in the top job. That measure received overwhelming approval in a preliminary vote last year.

[...] By some estimates, the proposed ban could affect hundreds of congregations and have a disproportionate impact on predominantly Black churches. The vote is partly the culmination of events set in motion two years ago.

That’s when a Virginia pastor contacted SBC officials to contend that First Baptist and four nearby churches were “out of step” with denominational doctrine that says only men can be pastors. The SBC Credentials Committee launched a formal inquiry in April. Southern Baptists disagree on which ministry jobs this doctrine refers to. Some say it’s just the senior pastor, others that a pastor is anyone who preaches and exercises spiritual authority. And in a Baptist tradition that prizes local church autonomy, critics say the convention shouldn’t enshrine a constitutional rule based on one interpretation of its non-binding doctrinal statement. By some estimates, women are working in pastoral roles in hundreds of SBC-linked churches, a fraction of the nearly 47,000 across the denomination. But critics say the amendment would amount to a further narrowing in numbers and mindset for the nation’s largest Protestant denomination, which has moved steadily rightward in recent decades. They also wonder if the SBC has better things to do.

[...] The amendment, if passed, wouldn’t prompt an immediate purge. But it could keep the denomination’s leaders busy for years, investigating and ousting churches. Many predominantly Black churches have men as lead pastors but assign pastor titles to women in other areas, such as worship and children’s ministries. “To disfellowship like-minded churches ... based on a local-church governance decision dishonors the spirit of cooperation and the guiding tenets of our denomination,” wrote Pastor Gregory Perkins, president of the SBC’s National African American Fellowship, to denominational officials. The controversy complicates the already-choppy efforts by the mostly white denomination to diversify and overcome its legacy of slavery and segregation.

Amendment proponents say the convention needs to reinforce its doctrinal statement, the Baptist Faith and Message, which says the office of pastor is “limited to men as qualified by Scripture.”

The fate of Southern Baptists permitting women to serve as pastors in any capacity will be resolved at the upcoming SBC Annual Meeting this week, as the messengers are likely to vote to fully ban women pastors from the denomination.

[suzannahnatters]

My 2024 In Books!

After struggling with my reading in 2023, this year I slightly exceeded my 2-books-a-week reading goal, with a total of 106 for the year. I also had a lot more fun with my reading - narrowing down my year-end best-of to just 10 fiction and 5 non-fiction was extremely tough, so apologies to all the wonderful books that didn't make the cut. Without further ado...

TOP 10 FICTION WHAT MONSTROUS GODS by Rosamund Hodge (re-read) I featured an earlier draft of this book on a previous best-of list, but the finished version published this year and I love it even more now if possible. This lush, romantic YA fantasy is a story of sticking stubbornly by your faith, refusing to abandon it even as you disentangle the lies, half-truths, and old wounds that have become a part of it. Spectacular.

CITY OF SERPENTS by Christina Baehr (re-read) I still actually haven't read the final published draft of this book but the second draft made me yell with delight. This entire series has been perfect but this book, with its themes of faith versus fear, the meek inheriting the earth, and its banter, mad science, and suffragism, may be my favourite.

THE AMULET OF SAMARKAND by Jonathan Stroud I Can't Believe I Didn't Write This Myself, it's so precisely my thing. Not just an action-packed thrill ride: this story of a magician's apprentice stealing a powerful djinn for revenge has solid characterisation and gloriously unsparing themes about power and privilege.

BABETTE'S FEAST by Isaak Dinesen (Karen Blixen) I was familiar with the classic film, but the original short story is even richer and more profound. Blixen's theme has to do with how faith is enriched by the experience of art and pleasure, as a small sect of Lutheran ascetics are given an artistic experience of God's grace that then flows from them, enabling them to extend that grace to others out of joy rather than duty.

THE BANDIT QUEENS by Parini Shroff This black comedy about a widow in rural India being blackmailed by the other women in her village into helping them become widows, too, deserves a lot of content warnings for domestic violence, SA, trauma, and language. Yet it's both hilariously funny and surprisingly nuanced.

LONG LIVE EVIL by Sarah Rees Brennan A young woman with terminal cancer gets sucked into the world of her favourite fantasy series and proceeds to break fourth walls, examine fantasy tropes, and have a rip-roaring fantasy adventure while revelling in perfectly purple prose. Along the way it discusses what it really means to be a villain and why we let our main characters get away with murder. I am already pining for the sequel.

THE SILMARILLION by JRR Tolkien (re-read) How to cope with the post-RINGS OF POWER hangover? Group SILMARILLION re-read! This is quite simply one of the most beautiful, moving, good, and true books I have ever read or ever will read. I am consumed with regret that, as deeply as it has influenced me, I will never hope to equal it.

THE HOBBIT by JRR Tolkien (re-read) Still great, and imbued (to a greater extent than I ever noticed before) with Tolkien's perennial themes of artistry and sub-creation.

EMPIRE OF SHADOWS by Jacquelyn Benson Imagine a swashbuckling archaeology adventure like Indiana Jones or THE MUMMY, except with a formidable amount of real Meso-American history and a romantic male lead you don't want to punch in the eye, and you'd have this book. And then the resolution hits, and it's numinous and cathartic and lifts the whole book to a new level. Delightful!

ELLA ENCHANTED by Gail Carson Levine I missed reading this book till now, but I'm not sorry because now I can appreciate it properly. This book isn't just an delightful fantasy adventure with a wonderfully convincing romance - it also has profound themes about obedience and conscience and maturity. Light years better than the movie, and wholeheartedly recommended to readers of any age.

HONOURABLE MENTIONS Because I read so many more than just ten excellent novels this year, I want to THOROUGHLY recommend the following: THE SAVAGE DAMSEL AND THE DWARF by Gerald Morris THE PRISONER'S THRONE by Holly Black A CRANE AMONG WOLVES by June Hur THE HEDGE WITCH OF FOXHALL by Anna Bright THE NECROMANCER'S APPRENTICE by Beverley Twomey SPLINTERED MIND by WR Gingell

- TOP 5 NON-FICTION I didn't read so many non-fiction books this year, owing to spending much of the year plowing through one audiobook that I didn't really love. But the ones I did read were great, and these are my top picks:

WOMEN AND THE GENDER OF GOD by Amy Peeler This short but meaty theology book focuses on what the Incarnation can tell us about the way God values women and also about the gendered ways in which God makes himself known to humanity, despite being far beyond any human conception of gender. It managed to be both orthodox and mind-blowing.

SHAKESPEARE: THE MAN WHO PAYS THE RENT by Judi Dench I inhaled this book inside 48 hours: a legendary Shakespearean actress records the lessons (and anecdotes) of a lifetime spent playing 28 different roles across 20 different plays by one of the world's greatest authors. I learned so much about Shakespeare, acting, and the dramatic art from this book.

THE LOST HISTORY OF CHRISTIANITY by Philip Jenkins For centuries, during the early and high middle ages, a vast, now-vanished church flourished across the entire Asian continent as well as the northeastern parts of Africa. This lost history has much to teach us about how the Church can grow, flourish, and remain faithful as a cultural minority - contrary to the demands of many loud voices within western Christianity today.

TO BE A MACHINE by Mark O'Connell Subtitled "Adventures Among Cyborgs, Utopians, Hackers, and the Futurists Solving the Modest Problem of Death". The transhumanist movement has fundamentally the same life goals as Ar-Pharazon the Golden, final king of doomed Numenor, and O'Connell tackles his subject with the outrageous wit it demands, so I had the time of my life.

THE SEXUAL REFORMATION by Aimee Byrd A study of what the Song of Songs has to tell us, not just about the sexes, but also about God's love for his church. So rich that I'll be re-reading it periodically in the future just to grasp all its implications - but it's already had a profound impact on me.

HONOURABLE MENTION THE GOLDEN MOLE by Katherine Rundell - a delightful collection of bite-sized essays about the wonder of the natural world, gorgeously written if somewhat (and understandably) doom-laden.

[opera-ghosts]

OTD in Music History: Legendary composer, conductor, organist, and pianist Felix Mendelssohn (1809 - 1847) tragically dies of a stroke, at the age of just 38, in Leipzig. A living legend in his own lifetime, Mendelssohn remains one of the most frequently-performed composers of the early Romantic Era. Mendelssohn's varied compositional output encompasses symphonies, concertos, piano music, organ music, art songs, and chamber music. His best-known works include the "String Octet" (written when he was just 16) the "Overture To A Midsummer Night's Dream" (written when he was just 17), the "Italian" (1834) and "Scottish" (1842) Symphonies, the "St. Paul" (1836) and "Elijah" (1846) Oratorios, and his 1st Piano Trio (1839) and Violin Concerto (1844). Mendelssohn's voluminous collection of "Songs Without Words" also remain perennial solo piano classics, and his Christmas carol "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing!" is always a popular favorite. Mendelssohn is also generally credited with having helped to spark revived widespread interest among the concert-going public in the music of Johann Sebastian Bach (1685 - 1750), thanks in large part to his landmark performance of (a highly-edited and completely-rescored version of) Bach's “St Matthew Passion” in 1829. One of the most influential and important conductors of his time, Mendelssohn’s ten visits to Britain exerted a particularly profound and lasting impact on the development of musical culture in that country. PICTURED: A modern plaster copy of the "death mask" that was made shortly after Mendelssohn passed away. The creation of death masks was a common practice throughout much of Europe until the early 20th Century, and particularly so before the advent and widespread popularization of commercial photography.

[swallowtailed]

palisade 56 / finalisade interlude

i love when fatt does episodes like this. feels like a rare treat. the ceremony of structure is so delightful to me

very tidy chapter titles also

levi taking the lead in these scenes was a great dynamic. have been thinking lately about how fully dre inhabits characters. all those conversations were so fun because of that

perennial not having told cori the future she sees because she's afraid of making cori hopeless: the classic mistake!!!! what a fallible, mortal, caring error

i adored reflective welkin and xylem's story. really, really good. will be posting more about xylem in a second but like... the other-than-human romance of it all... weeping wailing

related: i very much appreciated janine's goopy moon plant! that's some speculative ecology right there! (it's probably not a plant, it's probably some archaea business, but that's okay.) and thisbe giving brnine a moon goop closed terrarium was really sweet

so curious what thisbe's project is. mysterious grafted shrub???

very insidious for arbitrage to be working on systems of connection and community. seeing it prey on, like, mutual aid (" ") is fun. unfortunately i was never a fan of black mirror

i enjoyed the rube goldberg machine of contracts because it calls very nicely back to the adagio in g. connadine's still trying to set the world on rails by predicting/precipitating individual actions

really beautiful music throughout. that sound in the song over cas's scene was... reminiscent of motion but distinctly not?

not feeling convinced by cas's plotline, though. they're just giving up, then? declaring the millennium over and hoping mbreak fixes everything? really curious what perennial's response will be

i am so excited that the nobel are (maybe? slowly?) coming onscreen

brnine scene: showstopping. fascinated by their aura of simultaneous silliness and heartbreak. saying to levi's face "that would be so fucking funny" if they just left?? lmfao

but young idealist and cynical mentor is a classic for a reason. levi going on faith that brnine's not gonna bolt...

god, it's so good. i'm so excited. gonna be an all timer sortie

palisade theme is back!!!! my friend the palisade theme is back!!!!!

[sesamestreep]

yelling into the void perhaps with this one, but I’ve seen this sentiment a lot on social media lately and I just find it so irritating to hear over and over again. like “wow, do straight people really think ‘good luck, babe!’ is a dance song?? listen to the lyrics maybe??” or “the lack of reading comprehension from people who think hozier’s ‘cherry wine’ is romantic…” or the perennial classic of “you think ‘zombie’ by the cranberries belongs on a Halloween party playlist? it’s about serious Irish history!!” I DONT KNOW HOW TO TELL YOU THIS, but not everyone is doing serious scholarly work when they turn on the radio during their commute or when they throw on a random Spotify playlist to clean their house. Some people don’t even really notice lyrics to songs basically ever?? and it’s really not a moral issue at all?? Like I think you should pay attention to the lyrics if you like to and you should analyze them for deeper meaning because musicians write them intentionally to be meaningful, but it’s also not a big deal if the reason you like ‘Zombie’ is because you just like the way Dolores O’Riordan’s voice sounds or if you think the production values on Chappell Roan’s music is catchy and good and you like to bop along to it. you don’t need a PhD in the personal history of any musician or band you like to really appreciate their work, you can just enjoy art on an instinctive basic level. And I’d really encourage you to interrogate why exactly every enjoyable act in your life has to evolve into a scholarly exercise whose express goal is to make you feel morally superior to everyone else