#as anti social old ladies

[peridyke]

leonard is so fucking dumb i feel like peaches would be a million times more tolerant of him if he didn't keep trying to mess with her. like he is not content just existing in the same room as her he has to keep sneaking up on her and trying to play which ends up with him getting swatted at

dummy

[storyweaverofgondor]

Oh for the love of-! How many times do i have to tell whatever this Featured blog thing is I'm not interested in whatever that random gifset is?! I don't want to see it!

Please please go away!

[tomandgeriatric]

there's a random lady that i haven't seen since i was a literal child here and my grandma is going to insist that i say hi as if i remember her.

[ace-with--a-mace]

it was in a prickle bush but i got it :D

[ladycharles]

Occasionally JK Rowling says or does something so offensive to my sensibilities that I must speak. Sadly, today is one of those days.

This post, and the "male" she is referring to is a cis woman boxer from Algeria. There is an unconfirmed report that she might have an intersex condition in which one's chromosomes are XY. She may not even have this condition, but even if she does, it does not mean anything but that she has an unusual DNA quirk. We do not call Tom Cruise a woman for having an extra X chromosome, for example (nor would I expect Rowling to accept it if he decided to compete as a woman in the Olympics).

Now Rowling, upon being pointed out that she essentially pulled the twitter equivalent of Austin Powers punching that old lady because she "looks rather mannish", moves the goalpost. She claims, against evidence, that she an unfair advantage, going so far as to imply that simply by competing with a rare condition this woman has cheated.

This might seem bizarre coming from a self professed FEMINIST. It is the contention of anti trans "feminists" like Rowling that womanhood is being erased and destroyed by "trans ideology"; Yet here a cis woman achieves a olympic victory and they accuse her of being a man, of cheating. They erase her achievement, they erase her womanhood.

The subtext is racist and misogynistic - a strong Algerian woman with features that do not reflect Western beauty standards is being denied the very womanhood that TERFs claim to protect. She has lost to women before, she has no clear advantage... Yet by virtue of her looks and a possible rare genetic condition, she is now a "man" and a fraud.

This doesn't surprise me, and I suspect that anyone who has had to deal with TERFs will agree. But in case anyone is shocked here's my take:

TERFism has always been a reactionary movement. While it draws from second and third wave feminists and has an ideology on paper, any space with TERFs will tend to feature mad crusades accusing cis women of being trans on looks, attacks against sex workers that are harsher than those on the men who make that industry dangerous, few towards actual men, and a sense of outrage that trumps any real ideology.

It is feminism much like how "National Socialism" was socialist. And like the Nazis did with socialism, it uses the idea of feminism to legitimize attacks on perceived enemies while preserving the status quo. For TERFs that's traditional gender roles, which they have twisted into something that protects women rather than subjugates them. (This is not to say TERFs are Nazis, but it is a decent comparison because fascism is the ultimate reactionary ideology; full of symbolism and mythology yet devoid of any substance but machismo and hate.)

In a nuanced, good faith society, we might discuss trans women in sports using science to determine whether there are unfair advantages, and consult stakeholders and experts in sport and biology. We might study if chromosomes do impart an advantage, and weigh that against the other myriad genetic advantages like long reach or faster muscle gain to determine if there is any problem with current regulations. We might not do these things too, considering we have gone the entire history of sport without a single women's league collapsing from secret "male" invasion.

In Rowling's world, we first attack the winning woman as a "man in disguise" and rail against her without evidence. We have people replying "just look at HIM, he is clearly male". We have people writing violent revenge fantasies in which the Algerian woman gets beaten by a man or a gang of women to "teach her a lesson"... and JK does not once jump in to say any of it is inappropriate or hurtful to women who happen to have androgynous features, like some less fanatic people sharing the story have done.

When this is how their "ideology" reacts to an apparently "male looking" woman winning, we have to ask whether the liberation of women was ever the goal.

And the one thing that makes it all make sense, IMO, is that it's the lashing out that's the point. These people seem to enjoy calling a cis woman a man in much the same way they enjoy calling a trans woman a man. They enjoy the feeling of power as together they act cruel towards a woman who had the audacity to beat a white European. They seem to relish the ability to present themselves as feminists in one breath while brutally harrassing and demeaning women. Unlike ordinary bigots, they constantly bring up their crusade, as if they're growing dependent on the thrill. The cruelty, as they say, seems to be the point.

The danger of these ideologies is really becoming obvious ahead of the US election. Years of social media bubbles and astroturfing have made people like Rowling convinced that they are a silent majority, ironic for people who can't shut up.

Times like this I think are important reminders of where this can really lead. They may spin about being gender critical or concerned about women when the pressure is on; This is what these people do when they think they can get away with it.

This is the dark heart of their movement, beating loud enough to hear.

[rcmclachlan]

Return of the Mack

For @alchemistc. Hope you feel better soon!

At the fire academy, three things are beaten out of every trainee: fear, a normal sleep schedule, and the social influences that prevent one from intervening in the event of an emergency. Some have jokingly called the third one the Anti-Bystander Effect, because if someone needs assistance—whether it's to stop an assault, run into a burning building, or help a little old lady find a quarter she dropped—a firefighter will immediately rush in to save the day. It's a special brand of classical conditioning that instills an elevated sense of responsibility in every trainee, and it's paid in full by the state of California.

Which is why it's so odd for there to be three capable firefighters standing around doing nothing while there's an old man clearly in need of dire assistance. If the LAFD higher-ups knew they were actively choosing to watch the carnage unfold instead of lifting a finger to help, they'd all be shitcanned. 

Luckily, there's a fourth firefighter on the scene doing the absolute most. 

"I thought we made a pact to keep him from using his powers for evil," Eddie says, taking a dispassionate sip of his coffee. 

"Is it evil if he's actually using them in service of a greater good?" Hen's attention is half on what's going down and half on the Notes app on her phone, where she's typing out the week's grocery list. "You know, the enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

Draped over the railing like his bones have melted, Chimney gives a sage nod. "He's like a one-man Suicide Squad." 

In the apparatus bay, they watch as Vincent Gerrard uses the distraction of B Shift heading home to duck behind one of the engines, most likely to regroup after being thoroughly ambushed the second he stepped into the station five minutes ago. He slumps back and breathes. The moment of weakness costs him: a grinning demon rounds the corner and makes a bee-line for him as though he can taste blood in the air.

"So, which one of you said 'spreadsheet' three times in a mirror?" Ravi sidles up next to Chimney and unwraps a breakfast burrito from Delia's. 

Chimney gives him the stink-eye. "I hope you brought enough for the whole class."

"Nope," Ravi says, taking a cheerful bite.

"None of us summoned him," Eddie says. He leans down to try and catch the conversation being had, but he's too high up. For a second, he thinks he hears the words 'crack whore' but it's probably a trick of the bay's acoustics. "He's everywhere, always, just watching and waiting for you to slip up. Like God."

"Or the Devil," Hen says in agreement.

"Or Santa," Chimney adds.

Ravi chews thoughtfully. "I thought we threw out all the clipboards. Who gave him that one?"

"Tommy," Eddie, Hen, and Chimney say through a simultaneous, long-suffering sigh. 

It's not just any clipboard. It's the king of clipboards. It's the only clipboard that has ever fucked. The thing is a navy blue polycarbonate beast with "Buckley 118" embossed in fire engine red on the back, and the clip looks like it was forged in the fires of Staples HQ. 

At the bi-weekly Beer and Bitch Night last Friday at Golden Road Pub, Tommy had pulled it out of a bag and presented it on one knee like he was proposing, or bestowing a sword to a king. The entire brewery was then given front-row seats to an intense game of tonsil hockey that nearly went into overtime until Eddie threatened to call Athena because Bobby looked like he was seriously reconsidering sobriety.

"Does he know what he's unleashed?" Ravi sounds genuinely curious. 

As if on cue, Chimney's, Eddie's, and Hen's phones chime with three incoming messages. 

T.K. 07:26am: Has it started? T.K. 07:26am: Remember: you promised one of you would film it T.K. 07:27am: I'm offering 3 nights of free babysitting to the first person who delivers

That last one is followed by a gif of J. Jonah Jameson shouting "Bring me Spiderman!"

Hen frowns down at her phone. "Who the hell is that?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Chimney mutters.

H.W. 07:28am: Why are you so desperate for video?  E.D. 07:28am: What 40-something year old still pinky swears? H.H. 07:28am: Clipboard Buck better not be a weird sex thing for you, Kinard

Tommy's typing indicator appears, then disappears. Then appears and disappears again. Then appears—

"Yeah, no." Chimney hastily pockets his phone. "Those two were made in a lab for each other, I swear to god."

Down in the bay, Gerrard has moved to stand almost directly underneath them. While they can't hear what Gerrard says to Melanie Wu, an electrician so talented she could probably take down the entire grid with her eyes closed, that puts such a dour expression on her face, they can hear it when Buck, popping up behind Gerrard like an insane Jack-in-the-box, says, "Don't worry, Melanie! This is something to bring up during Thursday's workplace conflict seminar."

"What seminar?!"

Buck isn't cowed. He taps his clipboard and says, "The one I scheduled with Chief Alonso. You know, the mandatory one we all need to do in order to keep our certification—well, we'll keep it as long as nothing comes up during the seminar that might call into question our ability to do the job."

There's a charged moment where it almost looks like Gerrard might take a swing at Buck, but then he notices the audience hanging above him like a Greek chorus and shouts, "Someone'd better top off the fuel and DEF or—"

"Already done, Cap." Buck makes a show of turning to the second page on his clipboard and lists off, "All fuel, DEF, oil, and coolant are set. Tires have been aired up. Hoses have been drained and cleaned, and re-rolled. Engines were all waxed yesterday, all medical supplies have been inventoried and stocked, and I've made a list of the harnesses and cutting torches that need replacing. Just need you to sign off on everything. Sir."

The ingratiating smile on Buck's face would fool even the wiliest of senior officers, and Gerrard himself looks like even he's not sure if what just happened was disrespectful, but they know better. 

"Diabolical," Ravi whispers, awed. 

Hissing through his teeth, Gerrard spins on his heel and storms away in the direction of the little office in the administrative section of the firehouse where he's taken to holing up like a miserable groundhog until they get a call that forces him back out. If he sees his shadow on the firehouse wall, it's six more hours of bullshit.

As soon as he's gone, all the firefighters that had stopped to watch the show burst into laughter and applause, and Buck cracks up, taking sweeping bows and blowing kisses to his adoring fans. 

Chimney rolls his eyes and looks to see what Hen's expression is doing, because no one gives good face like she does, but she's holding her phone in a way that clearly means—

"You're filming this?" Chimney demands, betrayed.

She gives an unrepentant shrug. "Three nights of free babysitting? I'm not proud."

"You do know this means Buck's going to get laid and be absolutely insufferable about it, right?"

"Three nights," Hen bites out through very audible regret.

Buck looks up, flashes a grin, and the second he clocks the phone he salutes it with the clipboard. Then he struts after Gerrard, calling almost lazily, "Cap, wait up! I wanted to talk about setting up a mock exam for everyone who's planning on taking the TCFP D/O!"

They all watch him go. Silently, Hen sends off the video with the air of someone about to make a drug drop. 

"So, when does Taylor Kelly's exposé come out again?" Eddie makes a dubious face in the direction of the administrative offices. "Because I don't know that Gerrard won't off himself before it does."

"We win either way," Chimney points out. 

"It comes out next Monday," Hen says, slipping her phone into her pocket and elbowing Chimney in the arm on her way to the stairs. "Karen and I are hosting a watch party that night and you're all invited."

Ravi beams. "Thanks, Hen. I'll definitely be there."

"And you'll be bringing dinner from Taco Azteca—for everybody. Make sure you get enough carne," Chimney calls over his shoulder as he follows Hen. 

"I'm not a probie anymore," Ravi whines. "You can't haze me like this."

Snickering, Eddie pats him on the shoulder and says, "You do this and I'll make sure you're not sitting anywhere near Buck and Tommy when Taylor drops the bomb about Gerrard and Ortiz."

"Extra al pastor and buche it is!"

[astroboots]

Punch-Out Love

Artwork by @guruan

FIGHT NIGHT

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You're lucky enough to score ring-side seats at a boxing match on Friday night. Getting the best view in the house of boxing champion: Miguel O'Hara.

Word count: 1,500

Next Chapter

Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist 

You know fuck all about boxing.

About the only thing you know about the sport was from the glimpses you caught watching scratched up old recordings of Muhammed Ali fights on the boxy mini-tv of your old childhood friend's house.

It always seemed barbaric. The practice of watching two human beings beat the shit out of each other for spectator's entertainment. It seems like something that was better left in the Ancient Roman times. Have we all human beings as a society, really not come further some 2,000 years later?

Your bestie used to get mad at you for this. Constantly defending the sport from your criticism, because (according to him) it's not just about smashing each other's faces in. Supposedly, there's an art to the sport. Boxers are taught to respect their opponents and adhere to the principles of good sportsmanship. It takes great mental discipline, dedicated work and years of hard and punishing training to master boxing.

You never saw any of that in the matches he showed you. All you saw were two men needlessly being hurt, sustaining brain damage for rich people's enjoyment.

Then again, he was more than a little bit biased, considering it was his dream to go pro one day. Tall and gangly, with his scrawny antelope legs, thick-rimmed glasses and big-ass braces, he looked like he couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag, much less another person. You never understood how exactly he thought he was going to make it as a boxer.

But you never found it in you to burst his unrealistic bubble when he used to point at the screen excitedly, drawing your attention to Ali's footwork and the artistry in it. 

"It's like he's dancing," he used to say.

Except dancing is done with swelling music in the background. In dancing you often have a partner. It's an embrace. It's gentle and kind.

Boxing... was not that.

So you don't know how you managed to find yourself in the ringside seats of a local boxing match on a Friday evening, staring up at the boxing ring with the glaring ring lights shining into your eyes.

"Aren't these seats amazing?" Jess shouts excitedly over the familiar lyrics of ‘We Will Rock You' being belted out by Freddy Mercury on the loudspeaker.

You smile, and nod, because boxing-fan or not, she's right, these are some amazing seats. And considering you didn't have to pay a dime for them, personal aversions aside, you're never going to turn down free stuff.

Jess' husband tested positive for covid at the last minute, and you're the only one in your social circle that is anti-social and single enough to not have any plans on a Friday evening.

On the monitors above you, the menacing headshots of the two fighters swish into view.

"The first guy is an old reigning champ," she explains to you, as she leans in, shouting into your eardrums (and yet you can still barely make out what she's saying over the music). "The challenger is some new kid on the block. Has an amazing track record. Zero losses in the season. He's something else."

You look up at the gigantic screen, at the sharp cut cheeks, strong thick brows and the intense pitched brown eyes staring down at you.

Angry looking dude.

...Handsome too.

With a face like that, surely he could've gone into other careers. Calvin Klein model, movie star, or a news anchor. You wonder what makes a guy voluntarily have his face bashed in for money as a career.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a loud booming voice announces from the stage.

You jump in your seat from the suddenness, as you see a bald and overly formal dressed announcer in the middle of the ring. 

"Welcome to the electrifying boxing showdown of the century! Are you ready to witness some knockout action tonight?"

The crowd around you cheers with a pandemonium of shouting and whistling.

"Introducing our first fighter, a true hometown hero! With an impressive record of 20 wins, 15 by knockout, and only 2 losses, standing at 6'3 feet, and weighing in at 340 pounds of determination and strength, give it up for ‘the Knockout King’ Bobby Kane!"

You watch as the reigning champion walks down the tunnel to the midst of adoring cheers as he waves and gestures at the crowd like royalty.

Every inch the king that he is nicknamed, he jumps over the rope and stands tall and proud over the ring.

The man is huge, bulging with almost grotesque muscles. He's so large that you almost expect each of his steps to send a reverberation throughout the hall, as if this was Jurassic Park and he's a T-Rex.

"Now, entering the ring with the confidence of a warrior, fighting out of the red corner, with 15 wins, 10 by knockout, and no losses, standing at an astounding 6 feet 9 inches, and weighing in at 310 pounds of raw power, let's hear it for tonight's challenger, ‘Steel Jaw’ Miguel O'Hara!"

Wait what? You do a double take at the announcement. Six foot nine?!?! What kind of giant is that?

From the far corner of the hall, you see his silhouette emerge, and your eyes go wide at the sight of him. Tall doesn't even begin to describe him. 

There's a 200 year oak tree at Central Park, and with the shadow this man casts, you think their height must be nearly comparable. If you thought the Knockout King was tall, the "King" is practically tiny compared to this challenger.

You watch, as the man with cheeks so sharp they mind as well be blades (and god never has a nickname made more sense to you) as he strides towards the stage. He reaches the rope and barely even has to climb over it with how tall he is.

He's leaner than his predecessor. Every inch of him is cut muscles and tanned gorgeous skin as he stands in front of you. His presence is electric. The air crackles where he stands, towering over the stage.

You swear that his towering height blocks out the ring lights with it, casting the stage in the darkness of his tall shadow.

Somehow, he's even prettier in person compared to the still image of him blown up and plastered on the big screen. Soft brown curls and pouty lips. You don't understand in what world a man like that is a professional fighter.

From this distance, with the way that the light refracts from his irises, his eyes almost glow with a scarlet red that takes your breath away as you look up at him and meet his eyes.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was staring at you.

The bell rings out, but he's not looking away. The intensity you find there is enough to make you swallow your tongue. Your face prickles with heat and for several long moments you forget to breathe, until the air seems to thin around you and your vision starts to swim.

Then he turns to face his opponent.

You're not quite sure where to look. There's so much happening at once. For his size, Miguel O'Hara is surprisingly deft on his feet. His footwork is somehow both unpredictable yet intentional all at once.

The King throws a strong punch, as he lunges forward, after his tall opponent. But O'Hara dodges them seemingly without effort. It's followed by punches so quick, the movements blur together.

Strike after strike. The King is giving it his all. But none of it properly connects. With every failed hit, you can see him growing increasingly more frustrated.

Your heart is in your lungs, and despite how close you are to the stage, you almost want to get up from your seat for a closer look.

Safe as you are behind the ropes, adrenaline rushes through your veins with a fury. You can't recall the last time you felt this ecstatic about... well, anything.

With each punch O’Hara dodges, you feel yourself lurch back in your seat, trying to dodge the punch with him.

It's titillating.

Exciting.

O'Hara's movements are precise and honed with intention despite the ferocity in his movements. Each one is measured and intricate and if you didn't know any better you'd almost call it graceful.

You think back to those moments in your childhood friend's home, and his excited words buzz in your ears now. For the first time ever you finally understand what he had meant.

It is like a dance.

Before you, O’Hara's eyes cross over in your direction and for a split of a second, you swear your eyes connect again. His gaze holds you there, pinned to your seat, and excitement shoots through the entirety of your spine until you feel lightheaded from the attention.

Then he finally steps forward, no longer evading.

It's brutal and efficient.

An uppercut that connects cleanly to his opponent's jaw.

Spit and blood flies out from the man's mouth, the flabby flesh of his cheek vibrating from the impact as he lands on the floor with an ear-shattering thud.

Then the guy is out.

Barely even eight minutes in. 

There's a stunned and shocked silence. The crowd seems both enthralled and disappointed at how fast it all went. On the ring floor, you can practically see the circle of cartoon birds flying above the defeated King's head.

You may not know anything about boxing, but you know that this man is not getting up anytime soon, no matter how far the referee counts.

Tearing your eyes away from the motionless body splayed out on the ground elevated above you, you can see the victor towering menacingly over the body.

But Miguel O'Hara isn't even looking at his defeated opponent

No, his eyes are staring straight into the sea of awestruck spectators. Except he’s not looking at them.

He's looking at you.

~ Next.

Author's note: What's that you say? CiCi wtf are you doing starting another series when you already got one going on? ... Idek man. But I hope you guys enjoy it, cause I had a blast writing it, smut will ensue in later chapters I promise!

Dedications and Credits: Buckle up it's gonna be a big one!

Firstly to @guruan when I say she's my muse THIS IS WHAT I MEAN! Look at that beautiful artwork. I am drooling into my panties. I am crying between my legs. I am so damn horny! I cannot thank this amazingly talented genius enough. Please please give this wonderful brilliant human your love by following her, and drop by her KO-FI SHOP cause the art this woman bless us with is UN-fucking-REAL

Then to @djarinsbeskar who put this idea into my head. In my mind she is the OG Boxer AU champion and mastermind. If you are in the mood for more boxing content, she has a wonderful, devastatingly sexy series Boxer!Din AU that is just woof woof bark bark.

[tiramisuwithmascarpone]

Hello! I'm a 15-year-old devotee of both Lord Hermes and Lady Aphrodite who is raised in an extremely Orthodox Christian household, and I would like to share my story with you ⋆˚ʚɞ

Hi! for safety reasons I will not use the name I usually use online for this account, but you can call me Jellyfish. I live in Eastern Europe, more exactly Romania, a country whose population is 98% devoted to Christianity at the time of speaking. My mother is a perfect example. She wholeheartedly believes in God, I grew up with pictures of him and the Holy Mary all over the walls, which I wouldn't escape even at my grandparent's houses. My house always smelled of myrrh, I would carry a picture of God everywhere I went, I would pray to him before bed, go to church on every holiday, but I never felt fulfilled or connected to him in any way. I didn't truly know what I believed in. My mother was telling me all about how should I praise God, but I don't think I ever did it because I wanted to or felt connected to what she was telling me or felt like it was the life I wanted to live. When she would fight with my father, even now, she would threaten that she would run away to a monastery and become a nun. She thinks you cannot change your religion and you can not be Christian if you were born with Christian parents and raised in that environment. I did not have faith in God because I wanted to and felt connected to his message and wanted to worship his divine being, I did it because my mother felt that way. And that destroyed me.

As I grew older, I started believing less and less in God. I was struggling with going through teenagehood, fighting my own inner battles, and dealing with friendship that slowly felt like they were taking away my lifespan, and it wasn't just that I didn't have faith in a divine being (which is completely alright. Please do not believe this monologue is Anti-Christian, I believe everyone is allowed to believe and worship the one who they feel most connected and inclined towards.) I didn't have faith in anything anymore. When my brother reached 15, he hated my parents for their beliefs. I will not get much I detail since his story is not mine to tell, but he had battled with alcohol and substance abuse. And I was his only shoulder for him and my parents to lean and cry on. My mother told me to pray for our family, she would pray to god every day, light up myrrh, take me to churches, and I would feel miserable. I felt like an imposter in that church. I truly wanted to have faith in a god, anyone, but I felt like my only choice was God since that's what my mother taught me. Both my parents trust God so I cannot be different, can I?

How foolish I was. I can only look back to my past self and wish to embrace and hold her till she cries all her sorrow out. She was so confused.

Back in 2022, I had first heard of Aphrodite. My brother was sent to a mental hospital for his substance abuse when they caught him on the verge of overdosing. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder after a suicide attempt, autism and ADHD, but my father (who already couldn't accept the fact that my brother has ADHD) fought with them saying they ,,don't know me well enough" and,,there's nothing wrong with me". And he's right, there's nothing wrong with me. Not even If I am neurodivergent. I was at my lowest, I felt disgusting, I fought with my parents and was their therapist every single day, I stopped going to school, I was a mess. But, I was heavily active on social media because I had tons of online friends. While scrolling on tiktok, I found a video of an Aphrodite devotee. My interest was piqued. I heard about Greek Mythology before but never actually researched it. I liked the video and commented, talking about how gorgeous their faith sounds, and that's when it all started. I started getting more info about Aphrodite, the swans swum by me every time I would go to the lake with my family so we could ,,get some fresh air". I started getting lots of pins on Pinterest with her. I always had a desire for water and the beach was my safe place, where I felt fulfilled and free from all I'm feeling. I had a Dove make itself a nest on a tree next to the window of my classroom which I would always sit by while having lunch (on the rare occasions I would drop by to school). I started researching more about Lady Aphrodite, loving her story, beliefs, ways of worshipping, how it felt like silence was washing over me when I would make a non-physical offering to her. Her tales. The way it felt like she was always there to give me a warm hug and squeeze me while I was crying. I also felt a boost in my confidence! I started loving my features, taking care of myself again, etc. It wasn't always just sun and rainbows, I would still have breakdowns and wish it would all just end and all that, but it was more bearable with her. She made my life more bearable. I love, worship, and adore Lady Aphrodite for that. I worshipped her till this year when I officially felt strong enough to devote myself to her.

This year, actually, I started noticing my strong connection to Hermes. I was always attracted to the kind-hearted, mischievous, kind-hearted, highly intelligent and funny thieves. I always idolized them and wished to be like them. That's how I feel about Lord Hermes. I feel like he was reaching out to me all my life. Everything he is associated with I had an inexplicable obsession with for pretty much all my life. Turtles, golden or silver, travel, learning new languages, astronomy, astrology, everything you could think of. I have been devoted to him since last month, that's when I officially started labeling myself as a Hellenic Pagan, but I am still a beginner, and I need to hide all of this from my mother since I am afraid of what she would do if she were to find out I have another belief since she reacted super badly back when I was an atheist :( I set up the first altar for Lady Aphrodite, and the second one for Lord Hermes. I always had been an artistic soul and loved making my room all pretty randomly so I told my mother this is one of those cases and she believed it. She does not know english and is not at all cultured about any beliefs besides Christians, Muslims, and Jews. They are both hidden in my closet. I feel very bad for not being able to make them a bigger and more obvious altar, I hope I'll have that chance when I move out from my parent's house..

I wanted to ask if Lord Hermes would be mad if my mom kept setting random things on his altar? she even put a picture of the Holy Mary. I moved it to the other side of the closet and made a DIY necklace for him out of orange garnet or beads to apologize to him, and he didn't seem mad, but I'm not sure...I sketched drawings of both of them and rested them on their altars. Everything you see are either offerings I heard they may like or things that reminded me of them! the little notebook on Hermes's altar is specifically made for learning new languages and thought he would enjoy it. Do you guys think any of my offerings are disrespectful? or should be removed? I'm open to any advice! Thank you for listening to my story <3

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

I've seen some people hold Arya responsible over what happened to her friend Mycah at the Trident incident because according to them "she should have known her place in society and the power a lady holds over commoners". I disagree with this notion on so many levels.

First of all, Arya is only nine years old during that incident . Even if you believe that she shouldn't befriend commoners (which in my opinion she's totally allowed to, and I'll express my thoughts on it later on) shouldn't you be less harsh on the judgement of such a little kid? Even if according to you "she doesn't know her place in society", she still have plenty of years before she reaches adulthood to find the so called place she is supposed to occupy as a lady in Westerosi society.

As I said earlier on, I do believe that Arya is totally justified in befriending people who belong in a different social class from her. That's isn't only my own personal belief as someone who is anti - classism and lives in 21st century, but this is also supported by the text.

From her first introduction we know that Arya likes to befriend all sort of people.

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father's table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. Fat Tom used to call her "Arya Underfoot," because he said that was where she always was. She'd liked that a lot better than "Arya Horseface."

The above passage is from the second chapter of hers, before she left Winterfell. She loves Winterfell's small folk and is loved by them in return. She is even given the nickname " Arya Underfoot" because of that behavior of hers. So, it's no secret that she associates with commoners. It's impossible for her mother and her father not to know. And yet she's never scolded for that, and Arya is scolded over plenty things by her mother and the Septa but never about the people she chooses as her companions.

It makes sense that she's allowed to associate with these people, since Bran in his own POV also expresses fondness for people who belong to a lower class (and he's also never forbidden to associate with these people) and Ned, the Winterfell's own Lord, is known to dine with people who belong to a lower class. So, it's totally okay for Arya - and for any other child of his- to follow his example.

Also, post the Trident incident, Ned has a long and serious talk with Arya. If he believed that his daughter shouldn't befriend a boy from a below class, he would express this opinion of his to Arya. But he didn't, because he didn't find anything wrong with it

The only people who find wrong Arya associating with small folk are Sansa and the Lannisters/Baratheon. The first is the only person who actually shares her distaste for Arya's company in her own POV:

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. This Mycah was the worst; a butcher's boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block. Just the sight of him was enough to make Sansa feel sick, but Arya seemed to prefer his company to hers.

But we shouldn't take Sansa's view as the norm for westerosi society and especially not for Winterfell's household since her own father is okay with associating with people that belong to a lower class than theirs.

I believe that since Sansa is introduced to us as a proper little lady, some people take her views as the absolute truth when it comes to westerosi etiquette But they forget that Sansa is also a little kid who doesn't fully understand or see eye to eye with her little sister and therefore it makes sense that she views Arya's actions in a more negative light than other characters do.

As for the Lannister-Baratheon loyal family, Cersei and Joffrey have a strong distain for small folk and believe in their own superiority - but they also believe in their superiority over their fellow noble people. I guess we could say that both suffer from superiority complex and have a distorted idea of the world, so I wouldn't hold their own views as the norm, either.

I'm not saying that there aren't other nobles who believe in their own superiority over commoners and would never befriend people from a lower class, because the books contain plenty of these type of characters. I'm just saying that this isn't the absolute truth to every single noble character, aside from Arya. The kids in Winterfell are allowed to befriend people from lower classes and so are the Martell kids in the Water Gardens.

And not every monarch values so little the life of their people that they would order a little boy to be killed just because their child and crown prince, threw a fit. Ask yourself the question: if Ned Stark was the King and Robb had terrorised a little boy who played with Arya/any other little noble kid, would Ned order Mycah's death? Or would he have a long talk with his heir on how he shouldn't treat his people as objects? Just because Cersei and Joffrey don't give a fuck for small folk ( and Robert could not be bothered to interfere) it doesn't mean that every monarch would react the same way they did.

Mycah died because of Cersei and Joffrey cruelty and Robert's indifference. Not because Arya befriended him.

[eolewyn1010]

"You're not a creature of today, whereas I am."

. . .

This was just smugly said by Carson, the judgiest, most small-minded, image-obsessed, condescending, racist, sexist, homophobic, socially conceited, sex worker-hating, anti-egalitarian, anti-progressive snob of a character to ever have been written, the only one in this godforsaken house who's even more bigotted than Robert, to an outed homosexual who's regularly putting in an effort for his meek female co-worker to be taken seriously. This old sack of shit, who spends his evenings telling his wife that she should really learn how to make him a proper sandwich, thinks he is in any capacity a modern man of 1925 while he's actively yearning for ye olden days before the war, when women didn't yet have any such untoward ideas as getting jobs and owning property without asking a man's opinion first, and people still bowed into the mud before the lords and ladies he likes to brown-nose.

Excuse me. This is gonna take me a while to digest.

[the-mortuary-witch]

𖤐 INTRODUCTION 𖤐

I UPDATE ALL MY POSTS IF I FIND NEW INFO. THIS BLOG OF MINE IS SPIRITUAL, IT IS NOT AN AESTHETIC OR FETISH!

Everyone is welcome on my blog, no matter your skin tone, body type, gender, sexuality, beliefs, nationality, and interests.

DO NOT interact with me or my account if you support anti-abortion, proshippers/or are one, bullying, climate change, war, poverty, terrorism, fetishize serial killers racism, murder, are a hazbin hotel/helluva boss fan, have a nsfw blag, rape/rapists, homophobia, transphobia, sexism, ableist, anti vax, fascists, donald trump, nazi’s, any kind of abuse, TERFs, bestiality, arson, jk rowling, furries, therians/or are one (you make me severely uncomfortable), and just overall piss off if you can’t be a decent human being.

ABOUT ME:

My name is Grim. I’m 19-years-old, Icelandic, my personality type is ENFJ, and I’m an ambivert. I have been a Satanist since Nov 2023 and a witch since Feb 2024. I’ve learnt a lot so far, and still currently am doing research on Satanism and witchcraft. This blog of mine is dedicated to Satanism, Witchcraft, deity and entity info.

Currently Working With: Lady Aphrodite, King Asmodeus, Lord Fenrir, Mother Freyja, King Hades, Mother Hecate, Lady Hel, Lord Loki, Mother Lilith, Lord Lucifer, and Queen Persephone.

Will Soon Be Devoted to: ???

Magickal Interests: sigils, crystals, spell work, meditation, protection magick, deity and entity work, and runes.

Other Interests: metal and rock music, corpse paint, anime, manga, drumming, taxidermy, exercising, vulture culture, and collecting vinyl and CDs.

SOCIALS:

INSTAGRAM: @the.mortuary.witch

PINTEREST: @the_mortuary_witch

TIK TOK: @the_mortuary_witch

POSTS:

SATANISM:

SATANISM INFO

THE 7 FUNDAMENTAL TENETS

PAGAN AND SATANIC HOLIDAYS AND CELEBRATIONS

DIFFERENCES BETWEEN SATANISM, WITCHCRAFT, AND PAGANISM

THE 11 SATANIC RULES OF THE EARTH

WHAT SATANISM DOES AND DOESN’T SUPPORT

THE 9 SATANIC SINS AND THEIR MEANINGS

WITCHCRAFT:

2024 WITCHES CALENDAR

THE SABBATS

WAYS TO CELEBRATE THE SABBATS

IMBOLC

OSTARA

BELTANE

LITHA

LAMMAS

MABON

SAMHAIN

YULE

WITCHCRAFT INFO

SPELLS

SPELL BAGS

EVERYDAY WITCHCRAFT

TYPES OF WITCHES

TYPES OF HERBS AND SPICES

TYPES OF CRYSTALS

TYPES OF WATER

TYPES OF DIVINATION

TYPES OF DEVOTIONAL ACTS

INCENSE PROPERTIES

HERB AND FLORA PROPERTIES

GRIMORE IDEAS

WITCHY RED FLAGS

FRUIT CORRESPONDENCES

CLEANING / REUSING SPELL JARS GUIDE

GRAVEYARD GUIDE

COMMON WITCHY TERMS / TOOLS

WITCHY SYMBOLS AND THEIR MEANINGS

FAMILIARS AND THEIR MEANINGS

CONNECTING WITH NATURE’S ELEMENTS

WHERE YOU CAN DRAW SIGILS AND RUNES

CANDLE COLOUR MEANINGS

PLANETARY MAGICK

FULL MOON MEANINGS

MOON PHASES

DAY OF THE WEEK MAGICKAL CORRESPONDENCES

LOW EFFORT / ENERGY WITCHCRAFT

DEITIES AND ENTITIES:

CONNECTING WITH DEITIES

TYPES OF DEITIES

DEITY MASTERLIST (PART ONE)

DEITY MASTERLIST (PART TWO)

IDEAS FOR TALKING TO DEITIES AND ENTITIES

DEITY AND ENTITY PLAYLISTS

DEITY AND ENTITY AESTHETICS

MASTERLISTS:

ASMODEUS

ANUBIS

APHRODITE

APOLLO

ARTEMIS

BAPHOMET

BASTET

BEELZEBUB

CERBERUS

DIONYSUS

FREYJA

FENRIR

HECATE

HERMES

HADES

HEL

LOKI

LUCIFER

LILITH

MA’AT

NYX

PERSEPHONE

RAUM

SKÖLL AND HATI

SELENE

SANTA MUERTE

THE MORRIGAN

[dykepuffs]

I want to argue that Dracula is the first work of Nokiawave.

-It's heavily concerned with new technology which drives the plot: Telegrams between everyone being collated into the text, Dr Seward's audiolog on the phonograph which Mina types up, mass transit in the form of both trains and Tube, steamships (and specifically the contrast between steam and sail) and loads of minor examples.

-It's concerned with new social technologies and social change: Mina is a typist, a respectable modern job for a young middle-class woman. Jon is a clerk and is working in an exciting emerging market. Dr Seward uses all the modern methods and keeps up with theory and scientific developments. Lucy is pleased to have plenty of male friends, not just to be seeking to marry. And it contrasts this with both the "good" Old Ways - The helpful, hopeless, peasants who give Jon his anti-vampire icon, the "broad minded" but also clearly steeped in superstition Van Helsing - and the "bad" Old Ways - Obviously, Dracula and also the enslaved Roma (Who, oh god, I I have to write about them in the context of Romanian chattel slavery of Roma, which was technically abolished in stages throughout the 2nd half of the 19th century, but where emancipation came with enforced sedentarism and obligation to a landowner - And where many remained enslaved in all practical terms into the C20th, and specifically in Transylvania the effects of Maria Theresia's Four Decrees that were still in effect that meant they would both be indentured to a landowner as "new farmers" and their children would be kidnapped by the state and given to white families for "reeducation" - but most people analysing the text seem to treat them as willingly Evil Minions).

-It's full of the anxieties about what Eastern and Southern Europe will do as they "modernise and open" (ie become financially and culturally available to the West) and specifically the fear of the Rich Slavic* Oligarch (to a certain kind of British mind, anyone east of Berlin and north of Athens is Slavic, sigh) spreading their malign influence in the Capital Cities of the West. Even the touch that Dracula was once a warlord but is now a slick investor and man-about-town.

-It has lots of continent hopping, focusing on the ~local colour~ in Transylvania and the contrast between both the "superstitious" locals and the traveller who finds it all very quaint and interesting but not very serious, and between the poverty of the normal people and the wealth and seclusion of Dracula, and then likewise giving us whistle-stop tours of the interesting bits of Whitby and London, making the city as much of a character as the humans. The Westerner abroad is seen as just a natural phenomenon, but the foreigners* in Britain are notable and exotic.

- It has a mysterious superweapon/monster which is hidden around a big western capital city, where most people (and even the police and regular military) have no idea what it is and are powerless to stop it, and a lot of tension lies on the crux of "What happens if this gets out here, surrounded by all these civilians?" - In a way that treats the mythological East* as a natural place for atrocities to occur, but them happening in London is a shock.

-It has spying: Jon sneaking around the locked-up Carfax with his miniature camera, trying to take pictures to find out what Dracula is doing in there, could have absolutely been in a 1990s thriller. Likewise, meeting in Harrods to avoid suspicion because it's a plausible place for a fashionable young lady to be, surrounded by anonymising crowds.

-It has information warfare: Dracula reading up on British politics, studying maps of London, paying clerks and using shell companies to disguise his property acquisitions, and likewise the heroes using the telegram and port records and the sheer mass of paperwork generated by his activities to track Dracula, which feels like close kin to the Nokiawave staples of finding someone on cctv or by their credit card, or their car registration being flagged at a checkpoint. Jonathan lamenting the lack of an Ordnance Survey in Europe and the unmapped bits of Transylvania specifically really fits with the idea of the "Control Grid" posited by Gregory Flaxman who writes a lot about surveillance and information control in cinema.

-It has a team of both specialists and laypeople who were dragged into the action by circumstance, and much relies on their relationships. The laypeople's "unimportant" skills (Jonathan's knowledge of property and finance especially, and Mina's skills with logistics as well as her innovation and bravery in using herself as a conduit to Dracula) turn out to save the day. The team is multi-national and basically represents The Free World (TM), as well as allowing for jokes about national stereotypes.

-Mina being notably not a damsel in distress, but instead using her personal connection to the villain to absolutely ruin him in ways that nobody else could, is very much like the role of many women in Nokiawave films: She may be traumatised and in danger, more than anyone else because of the villain's obsession with her, but she's smart and deadly and willing to take risks to complete the mission.

-It ends with a massive cross-continental vehicle chase with tonnes of explosions.

[milfbius]

honkai 3rd characters smoking habits

kiana kaslana

unfortunately siegfried has been giving kiana his cigarettes since she was like 7 years old. only 1 at a time though so she never really fully picked up smoking until high school. she was smoking on the roof at nagazora when she met mei for the first time. after she meets mei she stops smoking as much because mei yells at her. not brand-loyal but prefers lights.

raiden mei

mei is very anti-smoking until she joins world serpent. after that, she starts vaping around the back of the headquarters with raven. she has a stupid red and black vape that has dragons on it. as for flavours, probably something like aniseed or whatever raven gives her.

bronya zaychik

bronya has been a heavy smoker since she was like. 12. she was a child soldier in siberia what do you expect. cocolia probably disapproved but didn't do anything about it since bronya did it away from the other orphans. she was also much better at hiding it from mei at st. freya. if mei caught her smelling like smoke, she would just blame kiana and kiana would get in trouble instead. project bunny's arms light her up. has the smoking habits of a soldier i.e. not fussy.

seele vollerei

seele doesn't smoke at all. other seele does in order to seem cool in front of bronya, but because their body isnt used to it all she ends up coughing her lungs out and almost dying. much to bronya's concern.

himeko murata

pack a day keeps the honkai corruption away. she is brand loyal to seven stars. feels strongly against menthol.

theresa apocalypse

scolds himeko for smoking and tells herself its because of its impact on both the kids and st. freya's reputation. however, it's actually because of her impotent rage that no one will sell her cigs because she looks too young. when she gets her hands on some, she treats it as a special occasion treat after a long night of marking exams. prefers low strength menthol, much to himeko's disgust. also, she calls cigarettes f**s. in a homophobic way.

others:

fu hua doesn't smoke because she's too much of an old lady. also because shes a lame nerd hall cop.

durandal doesn't smoke at all ever because she's a health freak. rita does only socially.

otto smokes the finest leaves money can buy out of a really stupid pipe. like a dickhead.

not doing the flamechasers because they were all probably doing hard PE drugs

[thosearentcrimes]

Me for the past week: Damn I really need to focus on writing this paper about revolutionary self-perception in 1789-1794 France. No distractions, just relevant stuff, deadline's coming up.

Instead:

Maria Edgeworth's 1817 novel Harrington contains a vivid evocation of the Gordon Riots, with two unsympathetic characters taken for Papists and finding refuge in the home of the rich Spanish Jew, the father of the young Jewish woman at the centre of the love story.

huh never heard of her I wonder what was up with her

She held critical views on estate management, politics and education, and corresponded with some of the leading literary and economic writers, including Sir Walter Scott and David Ricardo.

that David Ricardo? from economics?

After Honora died in 1780 Maria's father married Honora's sister Elizabeth (then socially disapproved and legally forbidden from 1833 until the Deceased Wife's Sister's Marriage Act 1907)

wait what

The Deceased Wife's Sister's Marriage Act 1907 (7 Edw. 7. c. 47) was an Act of the Parliament of the United Kingdom, allowing a man to marry his dead wife's sister, which had previously been forbidden.

ok yeah that's pretty much what it says on the tin

The 1907 Act did exactly what it said and no more. It was amended by the Deceased Brother's Widow's Marriage Act 1921 to allow a widow to marry her deceased husband's brother.[36][37] This was a response to First World War deaths to encourage remarriages, reducing war widows' pensions and increasing the birth rate.[37]

the war really did do a lot for gender equality didn't it

anyway what was up with Maria Edgeworth, let's catch up with her

When passing through the village, one of the party wrote, "We found neither mud hovels nor naked peasantry, but snug cottages and smiles all about".[10] A counter view was provided by another visitor who stated that the residents of Edgeworthstown treated Edgeworth with contempt, refusing even to feign politeness.[11]

Ireland moment

Following an anti-Semitic remark in The Absentee, Edgeworth received a letter from an American Jewish woman named Rachel Mordecai in 1815 complaining about Edgeworth's depiction of Jews.[45] In response, Harrington (1817) was written as an apology to the Jewish community.

imagine if Graham Linehan had responded this way to criticism of his transphobic IT crowd episode :)

Rachel Mordecai married widower Aaron Marks Lazarus in 1821, and moved to Wilmington, North Carolina, where she lived for the rest of her life. The Lazaruses had four children together, three daughters and a son, M. E. Lazarus, in a household that also included Mr. Lazarus's seven children from his first marriage.

oh the lady had a son who she named after the author she liked who turned out to be willing to not be anti-semitic, that's nice

Marx Edgeworth Lazarus (February 6, 1822 – 1896) was an American individualist anarchist, Fourierist, and free-thinker.

oh well that sounds nice enough

Lazarus was a practicing doctor of homeopathy

ehhhh

Through his adult life, Lazarus tried to cope with apparent mental and physical disturbances, in particular what seemed to be chronic nocturnal emissions, a condition that at the time was labeled "seminal incontinence" or "spermatorrhea," believed to be detrimental and even fatal to the mind and body. Lazarus sought treatments through homeopathy, hydropathy, and electromagnetic treatments that seemed to bring some temporary relief. He also discussed the condition in his 1852 book Involuntary Seminal Losses: Their Causes, Effects, and Cure," where he suggested that the total sexual abstinence that he had tried to practice might be one of those causes. In 1855, Lazarus shocked some of his fellow Fourierists and free love advocates by marrying a 19 year old woman from Indiana, Mary Laurie (or "Lawrie).[1]

oh... a libertarian...

By the mid-1850s, social movements like Fourierism were in decline, and Lazarus's later life seems to have had less focus. When the Civil War broke out, most members of Lazarus's extended family lived in Southern states and generally supported the Confederate cause. In 1861, Lazarus, was staying with relatives in Columbus, Georgia and joined the local City Light Guard when war broke out, later serving as company physician for the Wilmington, NC Artillery.

on the one hand, obviously very bad to enlist in the Confederate army right, but on the other hand a semen retentionist doing homeopathy to them can't really be classified as "aiding" them can it

After the war, Lazarus continued to practice his areas of medicine and contributed articles and comments to various publications.[5] By his last years, though, he had become a disenchanted recluse known as the "Sand Mountain Hermit" of Jackson County, Alabama.

most normal libertarian

I wonder what those articles and comments are, and what kind of website they're hosted on. Oh.

[askbensolo]

Happy Halloween, my dudes!

Meet Paige and Rose, my mom's usual go-to sitters for Rey.

"'Sitters?'" I laughed. "What are you—a loth-cat?"

"Well, they can't be my babysitters, because I'm not a baby!" Rey huffed.

...Anyway. Paige is my age. Rose is eighteen...and also? Weirdly obsessed with me.

"You're Ben Solo!" Rose said when she first laid eyes on me. "The Ben Solo!"

I get that often enough that I kinda like to milk it, just a little bit. I struck a cocky stance. "Yeah, that's me—son of Alderaan's last princess, nephew of the Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker—"

"—and author of Ask Ben Solo. I've read your entire blog. Four times."

Ooh. Oooooh.

Cringe.

Rose spent the entire night glued to my side, asking me questions about things that had happened in my teenage years that even I don't remember—but, hey! I finally found someone who wanted to listen to all 15,000 words of my KOR OC's tragic backstory!

Also—hi, Rose. Since I know now that you're probably reading this.

"Drop the lost Ask Ben Solo files, Ben! Please!"

"The—the what?"

"Your college memoirs! Your fans deserve to know everything that happened in those mysterious five years of silence!" Rose lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Me. I'm 'your fans.'"

"Uhh...I'll consider it," I chuckled.

...I wonder how many of my anons were literally just Rose Tico.

Paige is much less social than her sister. I tried talking to her a couple of times, and it didn't really go anywhere—you ask Paige something, and she'll answer you with like five words and go silent again. She kinda has the quietness of someone who's been through hell...and, maybe, hasn't quite made it out yet.

Seems nice, though. And like a good big sister. She kept Rey (and Rose) (okay, fine, AND me) from running into traffic like, ten times.

Paige didn't wear a costume. Rose dressed up as Senator Jar-Jar Binks (and now that I'm a Nabooian citizen, I found that sort of...distasteful, but I chose not to comment on it).

I dressed up as my KOR character, Kylo Ren. He has a super-cool scar on his face that is totally not the result of a slippery-bathtub-shaving-accident. Also—he? And the Dark Lady Revan? Are so totally married and in love or whatever.

Not because I’m into that sap, of course. Just because I want Revan and Kylo to have insanely-overpowered evil Sith babies together. (REVLO FOREVER, I will not tolerate anti-Revlo hate on this blog, BYE.)

Rey, as promised, dressed up as Emperor Palpatine, and had a Force-lightning prop she had made out of cellu-board. "Goooood, gooooooood!" she cackled whenever someone filled her bucket with candy. Despite being a wiry little thirteen-year-old girl, the Palpatine character seemed to come really...naturally to her. Weird.

Well, Happy Halloween!! Rey and I are about to have a candy-eating contest—and I have to prove to her that I ain't boring now just because I got old.

[qqueenofhades]

what’s rook and rose, do i need to read it

kristen likes book

Kristen. Kristen I am disappoint. How have you possibly missed ALL THE SCREAMING I have done about this before??? Shame. SHAME.

Anyway, this is book one of Rook and Rose:

The other two are The Liar's Knot (book 2) and Labyrinth's Heart (book 3). I waited very impatiently for Labyrinth's Heart (it came out last August) and then descended into a fit of unhinged screaming that had SO many of my followers go "okay I'll read it" and then "oh no." It is an epic fantasy trilogy filled with so many things I love:

Fat Ass Books (each one is 600+ pages);

An incredible and well-built world that's basically Magical Venice (the authors are both anthropologists);

A unique and interesting magic system;

Excellent writing;

Complex political and social intrigue;

GARBAGE DISASTER BISEXUAL MEN (DEROSSI VARGO MY MOST BELOVED) WHO ARE APPROPRIATELY GAGA OVER THEIR TOUGH BADASS LADIES;

Sass!

Costumed vigilante anti-imperial superheroes!

An OT3 which made me lose my ever living mind in steadily less coherent increments, especially during book 3!

The occasional Absolutely Mad Lad plot development that left me wondering wtf had just happened but also enjoying it;

AND SO MUCH MORE!

The end result of all this screaming, apparently, was that unbeknownst to me until this very morning, when they reblogged something from me, I went WAIT A WHOLE ASS SECOND, and then went WAIT WHAT, is that one of the co-authors of the trilogy follows me here on ye olde Tumblr. To which I say: OH NO and also, I REGRET NOTHING.

So yes. Read it. Readdddddd ittttttt. The end.