#better to chop it all off and let it regrow

[scatterbrainedbot]

listen ok, bruises and broken bones are one thing, but sometimes u just gotta check in and make sure ur self-sacrificing dum dum twin remembers how to laugh knows youre still the funny one, even after the almost-apocalypse

(never mind how absolutely terrible that idea is for his very broken ribs and lungs and.... well.... everything)

[doodle-pops]

Just a thought popped into my head, since elves have such a signifigance toward their hair, what would the elves think If their hair gets cut off by the enemy or severaly damaged and their s/o used their own hair to make a wig or extensions for their elven lover? (You know since for a human s/o hair would probably not be a big deal)

You know that moment when Rapunzel got her hair cut off? Right. Picture Mother Gothel’s reaction as the elves when their “precious, beautiful” hair got chopped off (even for an inch) 😅. I mean, Tolkien heavily specified that elves have an entire category just for ✨️hair✨️, which we all are aware of. The extra distance to let others know of the high beauty standards they have.

Anyway, before I get carried away. For your question; I see them rather…displeased at your decision because, after all, their hair would grow back eventually. Yes, all their years of caring for their hair and efforts to maintain their beauty standards got cut (pun intended) in a matter of seconds. And while it was touching (which was acknowledged) that you thought about making a wig for them using your hair, in their eyes, it was rather…unnecessary.

Although, you can both regrow your hair at the same time. ✨️couple goals✨️.

Hair overall, both elves and mortals (in Tolkien’s world and at that period), holds great significance. So in my opinion, I don’t see any of them being (immediately) touched by the act, nor do I picture them wearing the wig (wearing your hair makes them feel more guilty cuz if theirs didn’t get chopped off, then likewise yours). Perhaps after a while, they would show better understanding, once you express how much you thought the act would have meant to them if they could “have” long hair again until it regrew. However, they still wouldn’t approve of you making a drastic act like that. You're getting scolded 🫠

I believe they would have looked forward to you comforting them and giving reassurance that the hair loss didn’t strip away their beauty, strength and power. They were still the same as you always saw them and it would never change. Give them a boost of confidence to not hate their appearance and remain positive.

[strqyr]

very intrigued re: your thoughts on cinder’s grimm arm but I’m not sure its symbolism thus far supports your point.

like to me it’s a sign of salem’s power and control over her. it’s creeping up her body and eating her as she does more and more evil to serve a master that doesn’t care about her.

i think if she dies the arm dies with her but if she lives she lives without the arm, just like i think the only way she survives the story is if she breaks free from salem.

also i just feel like it can’t feel good to have grimm be a part of you and i want good things for cinder

i want to pre-face this by saying that my thoughts spiraled from the fairly popular theory that summer tried to destroy / 'purify' salem with her silver eyes and obv it didn't work ( and if you subscribe to the theory that salem got her veins as a result of that, it might have made things 'worse' ) so like. the implications are there.

this might also be all over the place so sorry in advance i just woke up lol

anyway. back to cinder. they've clearly paralleled the grimm arm with the shock collar which definitely muddles the ground re: the fate of the arm, buuuuuut there are some interesting points here as well as differences.

for one, cinder doesn't take the collar off until after the madame is dead and the fight with rhodes is over, signifying a power struggle—the madame shocks cinder to no affect; she holds no power over cinder any more with or without the collar—and the main failure of rhodes—he was the huntsman supposed to help, but cinder only took the collar of after his death.

in V8 cinder and salem already had their power struggle which resulted in salem having to give 'concessions' ( for the lack of better term ) to cinder lest she wanted to lose her bc cinder was going to do her own thing ( and almost getting herself killed. no good ) rather than follow salem's orders. and then cinder lied to salem who does not like being lied to so either she pulled it off successfully ( doubtful with how much she hammed it up ) or salem let it go bc she's got two relics now and reprimanding cinder would ruin the moment of success.

something something balance cannot be restored with force or calculations true balance finds it own equilibrium it only requires love and the patience to see things through in the end something something the villains do be getting it.

and through it all, the grimm arm remained.

unlike the shock collar, too, the grimm arm cannot be easily removed; slicing it off won't work as it will just grow back ( which begs the question of it's origin, as regrowing is not regular grimm behavior ), and, well. silver eyeing it is a bit of an odd choice when that's the reason cinder lost her arm in the first place, so... how do you remove it?

also, thinking about silver eyes and grimm, specifically ruby challenging maria's notion that the eyes only work against grimm bc she used them against cinder, "perhaps there was something that you weren't seeing" <- obvious answer is the grimm arm but atlas arc has come and gone, ruby has seen the arm a plenty and has had zero reaction to it re: why she can use her powers against cinder, which makes me think that this conversation in an episode titled DEAD END has more to it; either that there's more to silver eyes than "they only work against grimm" or that "something you weren't seeing" is less about something physical like the grimm arm and more about cinder herself, i.e. cinder is not a monster who needs to be eye-lazered on sight but a human being and that maybe it would be better to understand why she's the way she is rather than going pew-pew.

also also, as far as any villain -> hero arc that cinder may or may not be going through, i think it would be more poignant if she had the grimm arm through it rather than chopping it off as a sign of it beginning. ya know, like. despite all the negatives that come with it, the grimm arm is also beneficial for cinder in that she can siphon maiden powers that she wants with it, so if she has it until the end, any development would be more meaningful if she chooses to not use it rather than removing it altogether. it's the difference between "would but can't" vs "could but won't".

and yeah the arm growing is a concern so that's. A Thing. but i think there's like. how much does cinder and / or salem even know about this stuff. like i could see cinder agreeing to having a grimm arm bc maiden powers but not knowing exactly what having a grimm arm entails—i.e. it was not an informed choice—but does salem know either or is she just experimenting? cos i feel like that also changes thing like is this intentional negligence or is this uncharted territory for everyone involved? idk.

what i do know is that i like the grimm aesthetic tho and i would be sad to see it go :( but that's the character design gremlin in me talking.

[evolutionsvoid]

There is the thought that dryads want everything green, all the time. Other species think we want nothing more than to blanket the entire landscape with greenery. The more plants the better, right? Well, I am sure in many cases that would be fine. There is also no denying that we dryads like our plants and having lots of them, but everything needs moderation. Not every ecosystem is filled to bursting with plant life, and doing so would actually be detrimental! It is why we are careful with what we plant and how much space we take up with it. If we let our gardens run rampant, the natural environment would be impacted by it, including the native flora and fauna. Just because it is green doesn't mean it is good. The subject brings to mind a particular species, one that would create a lush land of green that dryads would be terrified of. When other species spot an outbreak of this plant, they tend to think we are the culprits. They see a patch of forest or a chunk of land blanketed in vines and assume the dryads had been at work. The more paranoid would claim this was our attempt at an invasion, trying to bury their towns and homes in leaves. Let me tell you, dryads did not plant these seeds and they have no love for what has grown there. Take one look at an infestation of this vine, and you will understand why it is called the Smotherer. In small patches, it is just a tangle of vines and leaves, nothing too strange or fascinating. In this shape, people would hardly recognize it, thinking it is another part of the scenery. The problem, you see, is that this particular plant grows quite fast and it is not kind to its neighbors. The vine spreads at an astonishing rate, crawling and growing over the other species around it. The thick leaves that sprout from this vine create an impenetrable blanket that steals the sunlight and buries the other plants in darkness. What's worse is its invasive tendrils that constrict those trapped within it, draining them of nutrients until they wither into nothing. It is an extremely invasive plant, one capable of covering an entire field in a few weeks. Its growth rate is so fast that you could actually watch it spread before your very eyes, seeing its vines slowly slither and devour everything before it. Though I try to make this sound scary, many non-dryads aren't bothered. All they think is "it's only a plant. Just chop it up and be done with it." Well, it isn't so simple and it isn't just any plant. To go with its incredible growth rate is its sheer determination and hardiness. You could take a scythe to an entire field's worth and turn it to mulch, but you wouldn't have bothered it in the slightest. Small fragments and bundles of this vine can survive cutting, able to regrow its parts and continue its spread. In many cases, chopping the vine up actually makes things worse, as the wind blows these fragments about, further seeding the landscape with them. Some folk have taken carts of shredded vine and hauled it to their farms to feed their livestock, unknowingly spreading the vine further when bits and pieces fall out. It is a nasty species, but it only gets worse when infestations reach a critical level. Smotherers look to cover and feed off of other plants, and unfortunately they have found some enticing hosts. Most other plants can only stay rooted in place and watch as the infestation buries them alive, but us dryads are a bit more mobile. That means we can flee from this vine, but it also means that we offer something unique to this ravenous parasite. They can crawl and slither, but what if they could walk? What if there was a way to speed up their infestation and cover more ground? This species doesn't have to wonder anymore, because the answer can be found by devouring dryads. The thick tangling sheet of growth will engulf a dryad victim and its many tendrils will hold them fast. In short time, they will bore into their rind and begin to feed off its prey. Food is good, but the vines dig in deeper for something more. They burrow through the body and limbs in order to hijack them, essentially puppeteering the dryad from within. The outer coating of vines also assist in moving the body, working in tandem to make the arms and legs function. The victim will perish from the choking mass and constant leeching, but this end doesn't come quickly. They often are still alive for a few days, in an emaciated, delirious state. They are too weak to fight off the vines, and can only wait for death to come to their starved body. Though they may pass, the corpse is still useful to the Smotherer. The limbs can still be worked and the marching can continue without pause.

The end result of such parasitism is a dryad covered in a shawl of smothering leaves and groping vines. The growth is so thick, that usually you only see the roots and the occasional arm emerging from the green. Their movements are slow and awkward, as if they were sleepwalking. All the while, the vines covering them reach and claw at anything around them, seeking more nourishment and more chances to spread. Seeds will be dispersed as the corpse shambles about, but it also seeks for more victims to join its puppet show. An infested dryad will seek out other dryads, looking to consume them and add them to the mass. To do this, the Smotherer grows special vines that are longer and thicker than usual. Grasping leaves tip these appendages, and they move like snakes seeking prey. When movement is detected, they lash out with blinding speed. The "hands" grab hold and the rest of the vine moves to tangle the victim and constrict them. All it needs to do is slow them down and keep them from fleeing, buying enough time for the other vines to coil its prey. Once held fast, the rest of its mass will swallow them, and the tendrils will go it work. Eventually, they will become another husk for the vine, creating an ever growing mound of corpses to carry this ravenous vine across the land. A Smotherer with just one dryad is young and new, the older ones start to amass more. It has been said that there are rare old infestations that have over a dozen buried beneath its vines, a crawling graveyard of green. It should be noted that dryads aren't the only victims to this plant, as it strikes any living thing that moves. Meaty prey will still be smothered and invaded by the tendrils, but the squishy flesh doesn't last as long. Once drained dry and time takes its course, the fleshy body tends to fall apart, making it a poor puppet. This doesn't stop the Smotherer from feeding on meat, it just means that the bodies won't be preserved and used for moving. Tear off the leaves from one of these shambling mounds and you will find quite the collection of bones scattered amongst the tendrils. As you can imagine, this is a horrific fate. To be crushed beneath a writhing pile of vines and your body invaded in such a vile way. Then left to slowly be bled dry as your limbs move without you, knowing your inevitable corpse will be used to hunt others. Ugh! It chills me just to think about it! Obviously, the Smotherer is an enemy of dryads and one we wish to eradicate. So wretched is this plant, that it is said to be one of the evils unleashed with the death of the World Tree, forever tormenting dryadkind. As it seeks to eat us, we seek to be rid of it. Infestations near our settlements will be dealt with quickly and thoroughly, as we know what will happen if it is left unchecked. The wandering mounds should be reported to others whenever spotted, so a trained team can track it down and eradicate it. However, killing Smotherers is not so easy. As I said, shredding them with blades doesn't work, and only spreads its kind further. Poison can work, but the amount needed to thoroughly kill a large infestation is both hard to get and dangerous for the rest of the environment. It does us no good if slaying the vine also leaves the land around it barren. So what usually has to happen is the careful cutting of vine masses and the followup application of poison. Essentially breaking it down into manageable bits, then thoroughly infecting the wounds with a special concoction that will burn through the small patch of vines. If the mass is too big, the poison is heavily diluted and is spread so thin it only weakens. It is slow and tedious work, but its our best weapon. I know already that there is someone reading this yelling "Fire! Use fire! Fire will solve your problem real fast!" To them I say: your suggestion has been noted and promptly thrown in the trash. Indeed, fire will certainly burn the patch of vines into nothingness, but that also includes anything trapped within and probably everything else around it. You want to set a whole coated forest on fire? You got any idea how to keep those flames in check and make sure it doesn't take the rest of the land with it? And I also went into great detail to say that there are probably dryads under there, either dead or dying. You wish to turn them to ash? Condemn their spirit and leave their loved ones with nothing to bury? Unacceptable, foolish and outright cruel! You see someone suffer a horrible fate and decide to make it worse for them? That isn't how we do things here! There is a chance a dryad beneath all that might still be alive and could be saved from its clutches. Yes, they may be greatly weakened and wounded, with no guarantee of their recovery, but that is something we cannot ignore. Even if it is just an infested pile of corpses, we need to recover the bodies, that way they may be laid to rest. Once freed from the mass, the body can be thoroughly cleansed and blessed to remove the lingering seeds, then properly buried so that they can move on. It is a peace the victims deserve and needed closure for the grieving families. This is why burning Smotherers is not an option in a dryad's book and also why humans who set a torch to these infestations will find their dryad neighbor turning on them in an instant. Unfortunately, I believe that is why some folk think we created and spread this plant, as they hear about a farming community trying to burn down a smothering patch to only be attacked by "crazed" dryads. Listen, if you want to help, either follow our techniques or notify one of us so we can come and take care of it. If you don't got the time, try a potent spray of briny water to weaken the vines and then let your livestock eat to their hearts content. It is a slow method, but it can stave off the spread pretty well. And thankfully cows aren't so good at eating a full dryad corpse, so there will be something left to bury at the end of it. Families don't care too much if the body is a little chewed, as long as they have remains to return to the earth.     Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

------------------------------------------------------

“Smotherer”

We got dryad vampires, werewolves and zombies, now for something Blob-like! The inspiration behind this one should be pretty obvious. Kudzu is its own beast in our own world as is!

[bylightofdawn]

I think I'm about halfway through Chapter 40. Not going to lie, writing is going a little slow because my attention span is kinda shit at the moment.

Yesterday I went out and got a hair cut. It's short but I actually like how the lady cut it. I opted for pretty short pseudo-undercut with a longer top. I debated bleaching my regrowth at home which is prolly a good inch and a half at this point but chickened out. I prolly should have taken a picture of my grossly faded and grown out hair before I cut it off. LOL Most of the icky yellow-green was chopped off and tonight I redyed it but I was like "What if I leave it on for like an hour instead of the instructed 15/30 minutes?" And well...it turns out the answer is a dark denim blue which I ain't mad about at all. It kinda melds with the regrow pretty nicely save for the RIDICULOUS amount of salt and pepper gray I have in my hair. That doesn't get affected by the semi-permanent hair dye at all. Le sigh. I was at sally's yesterday eying their permanent blue dye. I think I might end up going that route in hopes I can wear that while waiting for my roots to grow out cause I'm kinda enjoying the navy more than I expected I would.

I'll prolly try and take some pictures in the daylight. My brother and nephew are going to be in town tomorrow so I imagine I'll be busy the next couple of days.

I also fell back down into a Thranto rabbit hole and am re-reading the entirety of post·mor·tem by furiosophie.

Shit, I love this series so much. I'm a sucker for pining and slow-burn and this fic just feeds me SO WELL.

I'm also reading this Boba/Luke series called Little Lies by Harpokrates which I've had open in firefox for months but kinda lost track of. I usually read and download fics to my tablet so if I open a fic on my laptop it's liable to languish there collecting dust sadly for a while but I'm trying to be better about my tab maintenance and actually reading stuff I have open on my laptop. This is definitely making me want to work on that Boba/Luke fic idea I've had for LITERAL YEARS I've been meaning to write.

I think once I finish Seeds I'm going to put up a poll and let people pick which fic I should work on next and that might be a long-shot option I include. LOL

[aarohij]

 Creative Ways to Use Leftover Fresh Vegetables: Minimizing Food Waste in the Kitchen

Food waste is a significant problem. Not only does food waste contribute to climate change and the depletion of many of our natural resources, but it also increases greenhouse gas emissions. Online Cut Vegetables Delivery is a big benefit to minimize leftovers.

Fortunately, there are various actions you can take to reduce food waste, such as pre-planning your meals, only purchasing what you need, and using correct food storage techniques.

Another easy approach to decrease waste, lessen your impact on the environment, and save money is to use leftover food instead of tossing it away.

Compost

Utilizing your food waste for composting is a terrific idea! These leftovers and other organic components are utilized in the procedure to create a natural fertilizer that is then applied to the soil to improve it.

Both the amount of garbage dumped in landfills and the amount of methane released into the atmosphere are decreased. You may store them in a container or bag and drop them off at one of the more than 40 compost bins on campus!

Create DIY Cosmetics

Making a cosmetic product out of food leftovers is another way to use them! You may use the remainder of a lemon to rub the inside all around your fingernails if you only use some of the juice or just the zest.

After rubbing the juice on your nails for only a short while, the acid can brighten them. Be careful to follow up by rinsing your nails with warm water.

Using fine coffee grounds or sugar, you may create a natural exfoliator as another cosmetic treatment. Apply it once a week to your face and feel free to add any flavor or aroma extract!

Prepare Extra Food

You can also cook extra meals with your leftovers! Here are a few concepts:

To create croutons that are ideal for soups, salads, or topping a casserole with, bake leftover bread crusts.

To create jam, combine apple core and peel with strawberry tops and apricot peels. Only a few components are required, and the result is a naturally delicious flavor.

To produce flavorful stock or soup, add leftover celery tops, potato skins, or carrot peels to a liquid or broth.

Supplement Plant Soil

After you give your plants nutrition from banana peels, they will adore you. Water your plants by simply putting the peel in a bucket or jar of water, letting it rest overnight. Due to the high potassium and phosphorus content of bananas, the nutrients will leak out and give your water a rich flavoring. Order Fresh Cut Vegetables which are now available at your convenience to save your time and avoid waste.

Make Use of Fruit Aromas in the Home

Fruit aromas may also be used to make your house smell better. One important tip for getting rid of that disposal odor is to put citrus peels in the garbage disposal. Fruit peels can also be used by boiling them in a small amount of water. It will provide a natural air freshener for the house.

Make Infusions

Orange, lemon, grapefruit, lime, or tangerine zests or peels are ideal components to infuse various recipes. To make a meal more tasty, you may infuse ingredients like olive oil, water, and more!

Replant Vegetables

You may even regrow lettuce, ginger, avocado, celery, green onions, and more from their seeds, pits, and cuttings! You may obtain several vegetables for the price of one by planting them in soil, providing them with the proper amount of water, and making sure they receive enough sunlight.

Get Excited About Herb Ends or Leftovers

And last, any plant can be used in ALL of its parts. Olive oil and herbs in ice trays are a terrific way to add flavor to recipes without using butter or oil. Since they still retain flavor, other herbs' stems or ends can be dried and used in spice mixes.

Online Chopped Vegetables are a good option to save your time and allow you to do your task. Hope these ideas are the best one to choose for you!

[cunningmosswords]

#03 Cut To Dandelion Fluff

Weeds Grow Into Flowers

“Seeding with sharp beads that scatter, scratching at palms and catching ankles"

The third issue of Cunning Moss Words is focused on themes of garden weeds, hair cutting and fluff. It is a second person POV narratives looking at the energy of shedding, cropping and untangling. This one is for letting gardens grow untamed and cutting locks that have lost their ways.

The garden grows into a jungle overnight 

I don't remember when it exactly bloomed 

But its neat-cut grass became waist high 

Seeding with sharp beads that scatter 

Scratching at palms and catching ankles 

It is growing quite wild and unruly there 

In the increasingly brewing summer heat

The gardeners have even abandoned the space 

Left their tools behind for the hedges to grow

For their fingers to wonder and hold them close

While the weeds sprout in every centre, edge and corner

Calling on the blades to be handled and reshaped

Cut and pulled out of its endless reaching place

Thorn from the roots that etch deep below 

Dropped, coated with paint, poison and lemonade 

But the lands unruliness doesn't listen to man

It will keep on regrowing and expanding 

No matter how many times cut and touched 

For the weeds must flower to the sun 

In white Daisies and yellow Buttercups 

And Dandelions who transform their manes 

To shed them into white wisp strains 

Becoming wishes for children that chase them

Crowns for those who try to braid them 

Or shinning glow torches held under chins 

They will, with their weedy weeding flowers 

Return with folk and drifting cheer 

Uninvited, undesired- there is no cutting away 

What is always there ready to sprout and stay

Summer air has started to stick, though spring has still a lot of catching up to do with its late bloom. You sit on the old cold tile floor holding a jacket close as the air picks at your arms though your bare feet are warm. Your hands continuously run through your hair that’s gotten too long for your head and weighs you down with its broken ends. The strands split and cut like petals being pulled from a bud, they gather unknowingly, in growing heaps on the floor. It reminds you of days when you sat crossed-legged on schoolyard grass, pulling up strands and tying knots. Pulling flowers for love sick songs and crushes that won’t last long. 

Those cuts don’t vanish here- into the green fields, they stare back at you like black ink to a page. It doesn’t calm the worry or the need to chop it all off, as if all the anxious energy will disappear from your thoughts and fidgeting hands will stop wriggling once it is all gone. Better yet you should shave it, start anew, leave it bare and wait for the hair to resprout again as it all looks too broken, misshapen and has started moulting in places- miscut, mismatched strands. You don’t know if it's the thoughts or the heat of the season that is making it all stick and ick and feel so wrong, but its presence feels constant, tangled and strong.

Your hands move in different itching cycles, they go through clawing at nails that feel easy to cut, peel bare from their hinges, strings of spare fabric to pull from jackets, making more continuous knots to unknot- your mother says Stop, that is in fact bloody well enough. She pulls you up from the floor and brushes you off, looks at your hair and sees where the worry and boring jitters are visibly showing. She pats the strands down and tucks them behind your ears with a slightly worried smile before declaring it is a day for cutting hair.

You peel yourself from your stuck place and meet your knees on the cooling side of the bathroom tub. Hair gathered and shower head held, you bend your head over to the water where your wild hair flows down into a twisting waterfall. The cold water oozes into your scalp and over your eyes, drowns your ears without drowning you. You feel immersed in the water stream though the rest of your body be dry. It only becomes drowning when the water spills across your nose and you quickly pull away from the water’s grasp. With a shake and eyes flinching, a dry towel becomes wet, hair becomes less soaking, with droplets falling across your neck and shoulders, trailing down wrists and hitting bare feet to those cold tiles to where you finally sit down on a bare ageing chair.

The heat is still on a high as your legs stick and snap to the chair legs and strong sunlight beams in bright, reflecting off the buildings of the other side. You stare straight out of the window glass, wondering how much of the world could peer in and see as you rest in the shadow curved by the burning midday sun. Is it cooler on the pavement in front than in the room where the sun has yet to directly touch? You attempt to sit still like a statue, stiff, unmoving as mum draws out clips and scissors from a stripy drawstring bag. Combs and brushes out the strands that still knot no matter how many times you brushed them off. She twirls your hair and gathers them in sections, pinning them tight above to be cut into layers and layers. They twirl around two crowns that cause your hair to never know its direction. The tightness hurts and tugs in sharp pains that numb and your head goes from somewhat wet and cold to a low dry burning warm. Feet start to bruise blue from the pressure in your legs, though you don't notice the tension you've placed to keep them still. They hang ever so slightly above the ground, toes crossed together hoping today's result won’t go horribly wrong.  

Snip, nothing comes down, Snip, a sparkle of rain, Snip, a light rain shower, SNIP, a thunderstorm. Hair rains down on your head like incoming rain clouds, it sticks to your arms, your shirt, your legs and rests on the arch of your feet. It feels like a world of time is being chopped off from short seconds to minutes, to long overbearing months. Mother cuts and cuts, cutting off locks of damaged splitting hair that morph away leaving short fluffy strands that dance ever so lightly from a gentle open window gust. With it follows fluffy wishes of moulding dandelions from the garden below, drifting in a similar motion. It is the time of day when pollen rises, hay fever burns into the eyes, nostrils and itching down throats. You try your hardest to keep your head still without tilting or urking in movement or from sudden explosive sneezing-allowing your eyes to follow the fluffs as they dance. A small sharp breath leaves your mouth and sends them spinning back right out, one however stays out of reach- slowly sitting down on open faces of palms. Eyes downcast you watch the single dandelion fluff strand rest in its shedding, wondering how convenient it is that it has found its way to you on your own cutting day. 

The word done is uttered, the floor is a graveyard of different fragments, the chair has burnt marks into tights and the clips are placed back into the striped drawstring bag. Your eyes dart away at the strands that fall forward, when they return to your palms that fluff is gone gone gone. Lost to the strands or the air that flows. Your hair does not look too different from those shedding dandelions, for the minutes that pass- hair still rains down, rains down when you walk, rains down when you sit, rains down when you shower and even when you turn in your sleep. Hair seems to still follow you till the wind blows all the loose snipped strands away from the short mane that remains till you forget its length. Blow them like dandelion fluff, out to the unknown in odd places and trapped spaces, not to return home. Only for you to remember them when your hair regrows into weeding ways and flowering days.

© 2023 Cunning Moss Words - Written by Anayis N. Der Hakopian

[johnwick04]

Reasons for shaving your head and the benefit of using a head shaver

The world has diverse occupants and the reasons for the same action executed by two different people don’t need to be the same. Some men are in love with their hair so much that they don’t desire to part ways until the huge knot of hair becomes unmanageable. Contrastingly, some try to hide their long, untamed strands of hair. Sometimes the hair hate grows so strong that it drives the possessor to get rid of it.

All in all, each of these men has elaborate personal reasons that cannot be expressed or explored. Just know that plenty of men have gone bald and the transformation surprisingly looked better than their past self.

The reason why you’ve landed here is probably you’ve been looking for a bald head shaver on the internet. In the first part of the blog, we’ve planned to justify why in a world of hair transplants, some men choose to let their hair go. The second part is all about the useful benefits of using a head shaver.

Why do men choose to shave their heads?

Some men look more handsome with a clean shaved head, some might feel extra confident, while others might feel insecure. Here are some beneficial elements of shaving your head:

1. Cover-up receding hairlines

For younger adults and men in their early thirties, a receding hairline can be overly concerning. Hair loss is an abiding reminder that youth is fleeting. All thanks to technological advancements, the balding procedure can be stopped or slowed down (or at least made to look like it). Even though there exist some products that claim to regrow your hair, the effectiveness of these products is not the same for everybody.

Instead of trying to get your old look back, you can choose to move forward and get yourself a bald look. Shaving your head is easy and cheap and will save you a lot of time, money, and effort. A clean bald head grants a more masculine look than uneven chunks of hair.

2. Makes you look young

Hair is closely associated with virility and toughness and it inordinately adds age to men. Now, don’t you look totally young right after returning from a salon? Especially men in their 40s and 50s could look a decade younger with a bald head. You’ve probably heard a friend say that you look younger after a clean shave, haven’t you?

3. No more bad hair days

Does your brain get too busy determining if it’s a good hair day or a bad hair day? Do your thoughts need some time off your hair? You can easily get rid of your hair and let go of some burden to let your brain think about something constructive.

4. No hair no maintenance

Taking good care of your hair every day can sometimes get too overwhelming if you run a busy schedule. Hair needs shampooing, drying, combing, and grooming. Except for Sundays, maintaining your hair takes away time from your busy schedule. Getting rid of your hair is a smart and easy way to make time in your jam-packed schedule.

What are the benefits of using a head shaver?

By now you’ve probably learned that getting your head shaved is a comforting experience. There’s that traditional method of cutting hair with a pair of scissors or an ordinary blade. If you’ve considered the bald hairstyle permanently, you should get yourself a stable hair cutting solution too. Using scissors or a manual blade is time-consuming. It might take you about an hour to chop all strands of hair and you’re going to strive to achieve perfection. An electronic bald head shaver is an automatic razor that causes no irritation and razor burn and you don’t have to go crazy for perfection. These are some of the conclusive reasons for you to start using one.

1. Comfortable

Imagine how comfortable will it be to not have a person press down a piece of the blade on your skull to shave off your hair. The electric razor only needs to be switched on and scrolled over the surface of the skull. If you’re using this product, you’re no longer going to get nicks and cuts.

2. Hair gets shaved but at a distance

The result won’t exactly be the same as that of a traditional clean shave, but you surely won’t get disappointed either. Modern electronic shavers have successfully reduced the gap between the blade and your skull skin, thanks to the advancements in blade designs. But don’t worry, the tiny gap doesn’t possess any risk of the skin getting slashed by motor-operated blades. Thin metal foil covers the rotating blades to protect the skin. 

3. Get the job done in no time

Traditional shaving includes pre-shave, lathering, and the actual shave. Rinsing the razor and multi-lathering takes time. An electric shaver effortlessly shaves off a full head of hair in a shorter period. You just need to switch in on, shave, clean the device, and get it recharged. Wireless shavers are convenient when you’re traveling.

Final words: Everybody has a different opinion when it comes to personal care appliances. You need to try out a men’s head shaver to know what kind of razors suits you best. But when it comes to finding the right grooming and personal care device, we absolutely recommend Groomie and its Baldie Pro Head Shaver Kit. The device can be used for both wet and dry shaves and you only need about 3 minutes for the job.

[eldritch-spouse]

Idk if asks are open but I've had thot's about morell (I think that's how you spell it) and just hear me out. Got kinda long sry

Morell with a s/o that while being completely human has a regenerative healing factor, maybe it's a gift from some god? A deal with a demon? Who knows. That allows them to regrow limbs/organs at neck break speeds. (as long as it's not a direct blow to the head/heart or something.) Who, and get this, gets off on the pain of losing said limbs/organs? Eh, ehh?

Morell gets to cut up and possibly cook up his darlin and they get something in return? This might be stupid, my gay ass just simps for big stronk mushroom man so bad!! I lomf him your honor!

[God I am so into this, it's concerning. This ask is making me froth at the mouth, I'm gonna go balls to wall on this one.]

(Minors dni)

TW: Cannibalism; limb removal; sadism; gore of varying degrees; non-consensual sex acts; Morell.

Putting everything under a read more because I will inevitably wax poetic about cannibal monsters. It is my weakness.

Let's say Morell gets really lucky.

Maybe you came in with a random batch of humans supplied to The Clergy and he just got lucky enough to have you sorted out to him. Or perhaps you're one of his personal catches, the humans he bothers to hunt on his own when he has the time. It doesn't quite matter, what matters is how you react to him when your captivity starts. Oh boy.

Not all humans are cooked at the same time. No no, he's not about to spoil every ingredient, the chef isn't crazy! Or rather, there's a method to his madness. Morell calculates everything very thoroughly, and as such, he always has a schedule for each human that is being held in captivity within the depths of his rather large warehouse. You could say he has everyone's days numbered. Due to this, you're likely to spend a couple of days being held in precarious conditions until it's your time to be chopped, depends on the customer demand really.

It starts when the chef comes into the warehouse. While everyone cowers as much as possible in their restraints, you're instead taken entirely by his presence. There's something powerful about this monster, something sick and vile and grotesquely attractive. He's brutish in the way he carries himself, like a jolly executioner, but his demeanor somehow carries a charm to it. A lure. You see Morell's eyes poise on everyone, and it's clear just from his gaze that no one here is a person to him. It's the most objectifying look you've ever seen in your entire life. Slabs of literal meat would be spared more dignified glances. It shamefully turns you on beyond measure. You know what this monster does, you know what he'll do to the poor man he's grabbing by the neck and leading outside, you know the blood on his smock belongs to a captive you once talked to here. You know what he'll do to you one day.

So why does it thrill you? Why isn't escape the first thing in your mind? Your morbid curiosity will be the death of you, perhaps.

Sometimes the mushroom monster doesn't enter the warehouse to fetch "ingredients". You've been witness to the incidents in which Morell is clearly looking for a different type of meal, inspections, taste testing as he puts it. The monster grabs whatever human looks the juiciest to him and starts truly playing, pawing at their body, wandering digits stroking and groping and slapping before they find a warm place to bury themselves in. Morell chuckles, coos, licks their tears and samples the soft skin of his piglet with feverish passion. Better yet are the times where he gets lost enough to bite. To draw blood and suck at it like a leech, coat his fingers in it, spread it on the pig's body like a fine painting. The way his fat cock throbs behind his smock is unmissable and endlessly exciting to you. You want to please him, be the one that makes him hard like that. You want him to do all those things to you and more.

You're sick. But no one will judge you in this pit of Hell, will they?

The number of human captives starts diminishing, you've been spared as one of the last remaining trio. Some irrational part of you screams that Morell simply isn't interested in you. That, for whatever reason, he thinks you'd make a bad meal or aren't "ripe" enough. They're saddening thoughts. Said assumptions are wiped away when he enters the warehouse once again. You could hear his steel-toed boots on the ground and the noise itself was enough to get you riled up. You're pretty sure the other captives know you're fucked up by now, but what change does it make in the end? Morell walks in with a pondering look, hand on his chin as he examines every one of you carefully. You know this process, he's picking, for future meals.

Guess who's the lucky one today? Little old you! Took him long enough.

You have to bite your lip when the shroom looms over you, cheeks colored ruby and breath getting caught in your throat. He's so much bigger this close, so much more intimidating, you can even see all the patterns on his skin! Morell glances at you as if there's something very clearly wrong, probably because of the contortion of your facial features as you try not to be too obvious about your arousal. Or maybe he's just surprised you haven't started begging and crying yet. With a shrug, the chef finally puts his hands on you, inspecting your face, your legs, arms and midsection like you're no more than an product sample.

" Got a fine rump, have ya piggy? A juicy cut o' this oughta put a dent in anyone's wallet! " He murmurs when he turns you around, a firm hand kneading your ass like dough. God, you're so turned on. When he slaps your right cheek hard enough to make anyone see stars, you scream loudly, unable to mute the lurid moan that escapes right after.

He could cut the ensuing silence with his cleaver.

Morell's breathing audibly picks up as he crowds you further. " That was more than a squeal, piglet. " He taunts, equal parts shocked and pleased. " Ya like that? " The monster now smooths a gentle palm over the bruised skin of your ass, spreading tingles of pain wherever it touches. All you can do is nod shamefully, rising hearty laughter from him. When a daring hand sneaks to the front of lower your body, he confirms what he suspected, you're more than aroused. The look on the chef's face is nothing short of unadulterated, primal glee. You're clutched hard enough to force a whimper out before he comes to his senses. " Yer due soon, my little piggy. "

And he leaves you like that.

The other captive humans refuse to speak to you from then on, but it's not like anything of value was lost. The big day couldn't come soon enough for you. You wanted to see how the chef would react to your abilities so bad! When Morell drags you into his kitchen by the neck, your heart thunders wildly in your ribcage, perhaps loud enough that he could hear your pulse.

He sweeps you off your feet and dumps you into the large cutting board square in the middle of his kitchen as if you weight less than a feather. With your hands tied and legs quickly knotted together by the chef, there's not much you can do but squirm in place like a worm. Not that you feel the need to. The look Morell spares you is different from the ones he usually gives his other pigs, not that you'd know. He starts by saying that he's proud of you. That you were never a troublemaker no matter the circumstances. You're obedient, quiet and very good for him during the inspection. You deserve a more peaceful end, and Morell wants to make a deal with you-

Keep being good for him and the shroom will make you come hard in between every limb he takes. What a fucking stellar deal for someone that regrows body parts, eh? Nonetheless, you agree quietly, making Morell's eyes widen once again in shock before he's cooing condescendingly and planting a kiss to your forehead.

" Such a nice little piggy... " He praises, massive hands kneading at the plush of your body like dough. He rolls your tummy squish between his fingers and feels up your legs like a needy lover, but the look of predatory hunger is perpetually stapled onto his features. Even when he looks between your legs, it's more as if he's seeing a porkchop than your actual genitals. Those same big digits start their magic on your bits while Morell takes a marker to start labeling the spots he'll cut. You squirm on his hand, whining, but Morell only shushes you gently, speeding up the motions of his fingers and humming every time you mewl, not entirely focused on your reactions and more so concerned with getting the precise measurements.

" Good piglet- " The chef beams once you cry out and coat his fingers, sucking them clean before playfully slapping your sore nethers and gripping his cleaver. " Now, I want ya ta take a deep breath, and think happy thoughts. Yer not gonna miss that leg much, trust me. " There's a slur to his words.

The long blade shines brightly once he raises it in the air, your pinprick pupils reflected on immaculate steel. You make a garbled sound, unsure if it was panic or arousal that ripped it out of your throat. When the blade zips down, faster than your poor human sight can perceive, an explosion of sensation has your eyes rolling back into your skull. It's endless torturous pain mixed with this sweltering inferno of pleasure that has your body trembling in shocks of heat.

You scream, and you moan loud- A screech of pained elation that triggers a smaller orgasm out of you. Even if your head is buzzing and fuzzy, you can hear the chef clearly panting beside you, caressing the exposed flesh of your thigh where he made the severing cut. The fucker has the nerve to finger your wound, he's looking at the gnarled flesh like he wants to stick his cock in it. Why does that just turn you on more? Morell watches a river of blood spread on the cutting board and, instead of rushing to cauterize the massive damage, the mushroom just swoons at it, free hand coming down to push his work smock away so he can paw at his raging boner through his dark pants. You almost missed this, blood loss making you dizzy. Though you do get to see the large monster grab your leg and place several hungry kisses upon it, murmuring sick promises to the body part.

" Fer me, this one's aalll mine. Too good, can't sell, such a lovely cut- "

This monster is disgusting, irredeemable. The way he gets off on this like it's the erotic show of a lifetime makes you want to vomit. But it also makes you pulse with amoral arousal. By the time the chef has deposited your leg somewhere out of sight, he comes back with a nasty bloody grin on his dark face, probably intent on cutting off your other limb. He gets to see most of your severed leg already regenerated, flesh and skin finally covering the phalanges of your foot.

Morell blinks. Stares at the leg he just laid on the counter, then back at the perfectly repaired flesh before his eyes. There's a half-smug look on your face as you watch him process this.

" Piglet... " He starts, in a tone akin to a parent playfully chastising their child. " Is there somethin' ya wanna tell me? "

You shyly begin explaining your condition, keeping the details of how you acquired it mainly to yourself. Not that Morell seems to care, he's far too ecstatic about it, already caressing different parts of you with a pensive, eager look. You don't tell him you get off on it, but judging by the miserable, needy state of your privates, Morell can probably tell by now.

" I guess ya just earned yaself a permanent place in my kitchen then, sweetcheeks! " He snaps his finger. " What a fuckin' catch, eh? Luck o' the draw- "

You couldn't secretly be happier.

The chef takes your hand in his for a moment, undoing the ropes around your wrists. When he brings it up to his mouth, you make perhaps the most foolish assumption that he's about to kiss it. Instead, you get to see an array of bold blunt teeth for a flash before half of it is mercilessly torn off.

Dearest God, the pain.

And yet, getting to observe the monster audibly crunch through your bones, roll the taste of you over his tongue with unfiltered glee and groaning before he swallows the mouthful- Well, more like handful- Just makes you squirm in place with want. You hope you taste good.

Studying the way your remaining stumps of fingers twitch and spasm, wrist trapped in his firm grasp, he's bending further to lick at the gory mess. Those inhuman eyes promise nothing but swift bloody pleasure as Morell regards your shivering, panting form. You don't make an effort to regenerate the appendage.

" I think we'll be tha best o' pals. "

When the shroom begins lowering your ruined hand below the waist band of his pants, you can only moan quietly in pure excitement.

Maybe this really is where someone like you belongs, surrounded by other sickfucks.

[the-silliest-idiot]

Mom, where do forearms come from?

AKA I have a lot of problems with superhealing

Sonju, you have no idea what you got yourself into

Whether characters would shit themselves when healing really fast or not does not matter. What matters to me is, where did that newly grown tissue come from? In this post I’m going to try and figure out how much energy it would take and how screwed anyone with superhealing would be. Unless they bring food. Lots of food

With this estimate I assume that Sonju has human proportions and not very long arms or two thumbs on each hand. This is to make things easier for me, Sonju will be screwed enough as is trust me.

Unfortunately I can’t find research on humans growing new limbs. For my sake, the amount of energy needed to regrow the bones, nerves and ligaments is the same as the amount of energy needed to gain that same amount of mass of muscle. 

Last but not least, this estimate just focuses on regrowing tissue. Part of the healing process includes sealing up the wound and removing dead cells. These processes require energy too but this is just an analysis for fun, not a research paper. I can’t be arsed

Now that’s out of the way, let’s go

First step is to figure out how much a Sonju weighs anyway. Luckily for me I already did so in an earlier post. I estimated his weight to be about 195 kg.

Next is figuring out how much weight Sonju lost by chopping off his forearm and how much energy it would take to regrow that limb.

It takes 3500 kcal to grow 1lbs of muscle [1]. Or in more sensible units, it takes 7716.18 kcal to gain 1 kilogram of muscle. Big numbers don’t say much so, 7716 kcal is either more than half a human baby.

Unfortunately for Sonju, his forearms do not weigh just 1 kilogram. One forearm is about 2.52% of his total bodyweight [2]. And that would be the case if he had human proportions and not wacky long demon arms. He would be so screwed if I could be arsed to calculate the new relative weight of his forearms.

2.52% of 195.36 kilograms is 4.92 kilograms. How much energy would it take to gain that amount of mass? 37987 kcal. To give you an idea of what 37987 kcal of energy looks like and why that’s an insane amount. It would be an entire seven year old human child. 

Oh wait no, that 7 year old child would only yield about 32966 kcal, bones and all. [3] 26 and a half chickens is a much closer estimate. And better include the bones too! The calcium from the regrowing bones has to come from somewhere! 

Else, be ware of the consequences of calcium deficiency as the body pulls calcium from the skeleton and other tissues to regrow the bones in that arm! [4]

But let’s say the sudden calcium deficiency or other possible complications from nutrient deficiencies are magically solved. Maybe he just drank his milk

Unfortunately Sonju does not eat after throwing his arm and just continues onwards. The energy for the regeneration had to have come from his own body. Which is unfortunate for him, considering that he is a lean guy. 

Sonju his abs are visible but not extremely so. This would mean he has about 10 to 14% bodyfat. [5] A bodyfat percentage of 12% is used in these calculations.

This leaves Sonju with 23.44 kg of bodyfat. Fortunately for Sonju, it would take only 6.63 kg of bodyfat to regrow one of his forearms. Assumption that fat yields 5726 kcal/kg. 

Actual weight loss/gain guides say that it takes the same kind of calorie deficit/surplus to lose fat or gain muscle but that’d mean 100% efficiency and I’m not all about that.

He can regenerate three forearms without losing all his bodyfat and forcing his body to start digesting his muscles. Good for him

I sure hope he didn’t have to rip off and throw his arm more than that while dealing with the wild demons. Don, Gilda, Ayshe, Musica and Hayato could deal with the wild demon too, right?

Nevermind, it looks like the group had no other way to deal with the tons of wild demons running around. They only got it after Sonju fed his arm to a degenerated demon. How else did the group deal with the fuckton of degenerated demons?

But worry not, both Sonju and Musica (she ought to have lost a ton of blood too..) look pretty good after they have dealt with the degenerated demons. I like to think they stopped for a snack somewhere during the battle. Or they might have found a way that doesn’t require hacked off limbs.

He lost and regenerated another arm while fighting Legravalima. Another 7 year old child worth of calories burnt! Not to mention the fighting, fighting takes energy too.

No wonder he was about to attack Emma after fighting his sister, he was probably really fucking hungry. You’re not you when you’re hungry, Sonju. Eat about 152 snickers bars to regain the energy lost from regenerating one cut off forearm. And a few more to regain the energy used during the fight

It’s also no surprise for me that he and Musica just ...fell over after finding the high priest. They, especially Sonju, must have been very exhausted and hungry. And that’s just from the healing, not even the running and fighting. 

During the capital arc we have seen Sonju run, fight and regrow two forearms. The amount of calories needed for Sonju to stay alive and fight is 7223 kcal a day maybe even more, add two times the energy needed to regrow a forearm (37987kcal each) and you have about 83199 kcal burnt in one day.

That’s more than the calories in an 11 year old child (62612kcal if you include the bones [3] ). Or in other terms, the recommended daily calorie intake for humans is 2000 kcal per day. 83199 kcal is equal to 41.6 days of food for the average human.

And then it’s not over for Sonju. Not only do he and Musica go to jail for a few days. Lewis has to show up at the last second to go and stab his little brother in the chest/throat. Time to regrow even more tissue! No calculations for this, I don’t know how much tissue is lost.

No time to rest yet because it’s time to rush to Gracefield and wave the kids goodbye! Fortunately for them, neither Sonju or Musica get stabbed or injured again after the kids leave. 

Moral of this story: If you are going to rip off and regrow your arm repeatedly in a short timespan, don’t be a moron and bring food. Lots of food and bones

References used in order of appearance: Not gonna APA these, there’s just links for you

[1] https://blog.voltathletics.com/home/2015/9/9/blm-part-4-when-how-and-how-much-to-eat

[2] http://robslink.com/SAS/democd79/body_part_weights.htm

[3] https://www.nature.com/articles/srep44707/tables/2

[4] https://www.algaecal.com/expert-insights/do-you-have-a-calcium-deficiency-10-signs-symptoms-to-watch-out-for/

[5] https://www.ruled.me/visually-estimate-body-fat-percentage/

[a-queer-seminarian]

So sorry if this is breaking news to anyone, but: the Bible is ableist. Its pages hold some really shitty stuff about disabled persons.

...AND it’s also affirming of the goodness and wholeness of disabled persons, just as we are!

it turns out that among the many authors of the many texts collected into the Bible, there were differing views around what we now call disability!

so whenever disability comes up in a given passage, i can’t keep my brain from immediately trying to sort it: is it a Good Text for disabled persons, or a Bad Text?

i try to resist that easy binary, because the answer is usually somewhere in between. that certainly seems to be the case for this week’s lectionary reading from Mark 9.

there’s so much wild stuff in Jesus’s little monologue in this lectionary passage, but let’s start with verses 43-47 (my rough translation incoming):

If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it all the way off; it is better for you to enter into The Life impaired than, while having two hands, to go away into the gehenna, into the unquenchable fire.

And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it all the way off! It is better for you to enter into The Life limping than, while having two feet, be cast into the gehenna.

And if your eye should cause you to stumble, cast it out; it is better for you to enter into the Kingdom of God one-eyed than, while having two eyes, be cast into the gehenna, where their worm does not die, and the fire is not quenched. For everyone will be salted with fire.

oh lord, not the hell talk!! anything but hell talk!! this whole passage bristles with a million ways to misuse it. (homophobia cw: anyone else ever get told “if your sexuality causes you to sin, cut it off — this passage is proof gay people should be celibate!” just me?)

now, my focus is on what Jesus says here about disability, but as we talk about that, better ways of reading the text will come up. for instance, that last verse about how everyone will be salted with fire? to me, that suggests Jesus’ vision of this “gehenna” place does NOT = the standard Christian idea of hell. first off, it’s a place not of punishment, but purification — which is a word heavy with baggage these days...what if I say “reformation” instead? And if that’s the case, i imagine one’s stay there isn’t eternal — why bother reform people who are gonna be shut off in a fire-filled jail forever?

once those fires “purify” you, i imagine your stay is through and off you go into “The Life,” because you’ll finally be ready for it. so that’s one option for getting ready for The Life / The Kingdom of God — or, Jesus says, you can opt instead to get rid of the things that “cause you to stumble” in advance by......cutting off a limb or gouging out an eye??

now. i could be wrong but. if we start by taking this text as literally as possible, with physical stumbling and a physical limb-removal taking place......wouldn’t it be easier to avoid tripping if you’ve got two eyes to see obstacles with, two feet to step over potholes with?? even today when prosthetics are sometimes an option, there’s an adjustment period where you have to relearn walking.

so it seems that Jesus is making one of his trademark statements meant to subvert expectations -- the last will be first, the foolish are proven wise, and those with two feet are more likely to stumble. chances are, he’s not speaking literally. it’s not your literal foot or hand you should be chopping off -- it’s a metaphor for something else.

but before we consider what exactly it’s a metaphor for...where does this ironic little twist leave actually disabled persons? is it shitty of Jesus to be using disability in this way? is this like his “blind leading the blind” & “spiritually blind” comments elsewhere in the Gospels, where he stamps a disability with a moral judgement?

yeah, i do think it’s kinda crappy to use real disabilities for an object lesson, for hyperbolic effect, for shock value. “better to be impaired” (even tho, the subtext seems to be, It Sucks To Be Impaired) “than end up in Gehenna. Trade one terrible thing for a still bad but not as bad thing!” My impulse is thus to throw this passage right into the Bad Text box —except!

Except, i feel like this text holds some positive implications about how Jesus viewed disability, too. 

First off, there’s the implication that one can enter into “The Life” — abundant life, “the world to come,” God’s Kingdom — while disabled. (i wish that were just a given, but it’s not; it’s actually exciting to hear confirmed!)

In the Hebrew Bible (the “Old Testament,” the scriptures we share with our Jewish neighbors, the texts that Jesus would have read and known), the most common assumption about disability is unfortunately that disability = imperfection, and imperfection is something that should be kept out of contact with God.

Now, there are authors & stories within the Hebrew Bible that offer a counter-narrative to that assumption! Two quick examples: Exodus 4 establishes Moses as having a speech impediment, yet he has many close encounters with the Divine. Meanwhile, in Isaiah 56:1-8, God not only welcomes in eunuchs — whom Deuteronomy 23:1 forbade from entering God’s Assembly — but even gives them a place of honor there!

So Jesus’s perspective is not brand new; he simply continues the counter-narrative that other Jewish rabbis and prophets established before him. Still, it is significant that he takes the status-quo-subverting perspective that actually, disability and wholeness are not at odds!

While Jesus’s primary aim with this little passage is not about disability, his weird self-disabling metaphor does imply an attitude of welcome for disabled persons, in that he seems to take it for granted that disabled persons are not barred from The Life of wholeness and abundance he’s talking about.

It’s obvious to him that they don’t even need to be made not-disabled to get there! (Plus, there is no suggestion that once there, one regrows one’s lopped-off limbs or eye / becomes abled again.) This isn’t the only time Jesus expresses this idea of disabilities present in God’s Kingdom, either — my fave is the parable of the banquet in Luke 14 (i have a whooole video about that passage, if you’re interested).

Moreover, Jesus’s closing remarks about salt — which at first glance seem to be something of a non sequitur — can be linked to the Gehenna fire stuff when it comes to the theme of im/purity. Let’s look at that last verse of the lectionary reading, which follows right after Jesus’s claim that “everyone will be salted with fire”:

“Salt is good; but if salt becomes unsalty, with what will you season it? Hold salt in yourselves, and keep peace with one another.”

Another weird little riddle from our favorite riddle-master. unsalty salt? instructions to stay salty?

One way to read this is to focus on the purifying and preserving uses of salt — the way it can keep food from going bad, which was particularly important in a time before refrigerators. in the previous verses, Jesus told his disciples what to cut off — anything that impedes them on the way into abundant Life. Now, he tells them what to hold on to — the stuff that, like salt, clean out harmful things and preserve helpful things, thus enabling abundant Life.

So yeah. In naming something culturally considered an imperfection — disability — as something that can easily enter The Life, no problem, Jesus is making an argument for what is truly impure, what truly impedes wholeness. And it’s not disability! ...So what is it? What are these stumbling blocks that Jesus likens to feet, hands, and eyes?

To find out, we have to rewind to the start of the lectionary reading, a comment from the disciple John that actually kicks off Jesus’s whole spiel:

John informed him, “Teacher, we saw someone throwing out demons in your name, and we stopped him, because he wasn’t following our way.”

But Jesus said, “Do not ever prevent him! For there is no one who will do a powerful work in my name, and will be quickly able to speak evil of me. For whoever is not against us, is for us. Whoever might give you a cup of water to drink because you are in Christ’s name, amen I say to you, that one will not utterly lose his reward.”

The disciples have a certain way of seeing the world, and their actions against someone who is not one of them, but still using Jesus’s name to cast out demons, show us what that way is. They see the world in terms of us vs. them, in vs. out, one right way and many wrong ways. It’s this perspective that impedes them from supporting other people’s kin(g)dom-building work when it differs from their own.

But Jesus tells them they need to stop thinking this way, and start recognizing that there isn’t just one road to the Kin(g)dom, but many — and to quote Jesus’s words from other parts of scripture, you’ll know that someone’s work is good when it produces good fruit. This dude might be doing things differently from how they do it, but the fruits of his efforts are good — the casting out of demons, which frees people up for new life. So don’t stop him — support him! Be glad for his work!

To sum up the entire passage now that I’ve laid it all out and shown how the seemingly-disjointed parts of Jesus’s speech connect, I see his argument as something like this: “That dude you tried to stop is not against us; we can see that by the consequences of his actions, which are positive! His goals are the same as ours, so don’t hinder him just because his path is different from yours! Now, here’s an example of people/behaviors that ARE against us: people who cause little ones to stumble. And you know what you should do with such stumble-makers (or else the stumble-causing behaviors/attitudes)? Cut them off. Let go of anyone or anything that keeps you from abundant life, from the liberation God intends for all. Meanwhile, hold on to the things which purify you like salt — the things that liberate you to enter wholeness. Do it now of your own accord, or accept that it’ll happen later, and it won’t be very fun.”

To reiterate what all of that has to do with disability theology, I’ll share what my friend Laura said when I brought all these ideas to them. (Laura is the host of the Autistic Liberation Theology podcast, which i highly recommend for anyone who wants to hear more Bible stories told through a disability lens!)

Laura noted how common perspectives around dis/ability lead people wrong today, impeding our liberation. Our society teaches us that in order to function as whole persons, we need to be able-bodied (and neurotypical), and that the kinds of accommodations that disabled persons require limit their quality of life. When those ableist assumptions are the lens through which we view the world, that can “cause us to stumble” in the metaphorical sense — can impede us from loving ourselves and one another fully, and from fully participating in the diverse Kin(g)dom of God.

They offered two examples:

When a person with a mobility impairment that could be improved with a wheelchair avoids using that wheelchair because of internalized ableism, preferring the increased suffering that walking more than their body can healthily do over being “wheelchair bound,” that internalized ableism is a stumbling block keeping them from abundant life. Learning to let go of those beliefs, to use a wheelchair when they need to, will — contrary to that “wheelchair bound” language — bring liberation. 

Their next example imagined a parent who puts their autistic child through ABA therapy in order to get them to talk, make eye contact, and otherwise behave like a non-autistic person, due to the belief that autistic persons are missing elements of a full personhood, or that they can only live a happy life if they learn how to mask their autistic traits. However, in reality, ABA therapy brings the child pain and trauma — it impedes rather than enables their quality of life. Letting go of that need for your child to communicate through spoken language and otherwise behave like an allistic will make room for celebration of who they really are!

As Jesus’s comments in this passage imply, a disabled person can enter into “The Life” of wholeness and kinship that is the Kin(g)dom of God just as they are. To try to sever their disability from them would be the hindrance to that liberation. To deny that there are many ways to participate in the Body of Christ  impedes the incoming Kin(g)dom.

So let’s take this message to heart. Let’s consider what points of view, what assumptions about what is necessary for wholeness, are currently keeping us from abundant life, or causing us to stop others from their abundance-bringing work. It’s time to learn how to let those harmful assumptions go — and hold tight to the things that bring true wholeness.

For more on this text, check out my translation notes, which include a lot of commentary from D. Mark Davis’s own exegetical work.

For more on disability theology, you might enjoy my #disability theology tag on tumblr or my Disabled AND Blessed YouTube series. This video exploring the many different perspectives on disability found within the Bible is particularly pertinent.

Finally, what do you think? What good news do you hear in this Mark 9 text? What parts of it feel like a stumbling block for you, dredging up hurt or confusion?

[magicalfxgirl]

Why did Hades allow Heracles to take Cerberus? Part 1

Something has been irking me about Greek mythology and incident involving everyone's favorite doggo. Cerberus and the famous hero, Herakles or better known by his Roman Hercules. This is based on Og Greek Mythology and thus consistency sake I will using his Greek name Heracles.Quick note its extremely funny that Heracles is named after the woman who tried to kill him countless time. Disney lied big time with that change along with entire plot, but this is not the time or place to talk about that disaster. In Greek mythology the Herakles had to perform twelve tasks given to him by King Eurystheus of Tiryns. His final task was to bring the King, Cerberus to King Eurystheus of Tiryns. This should have been impossible for one important reason, Herakles killed at least 4/5 of Cerberus's siblings while completing his twelve labors. Confused well here is a brief backstory about Cerberus.

Quick back story

Here is the run down. Cerberus is one of several monsters who share the same parents, Typhon and Echidna. Typhon and Echnida were monsters that Gaia. Gaia grandma to Zeus and Great grandma twice over to Herakles. Gaia created the monster to get rid of the olympians namely Zeus. They failed, but parented the following monsters: Cerberus, the sphinx, the Nemean Lion a lion with skin so thick no weapon could pierce it. The Lernaean Hydra (Hydra) "a gigantic water-snake-like monster with nine heads (the number varies), one of which was immortal. Anyone who attempted to behead the Hydra found that as soon as one head was cut off, two more heads would emerge from the fresh wound" (britannica). The Chimera was a monstrous fire-breathing hybrid creature. Ladon,The Dragon which guarded the golden apples. The Caucasian Eagle who ate Promethesus liver as punishment for giving humans fire.Colchian Dragon) which protected the golden fleece, the Cromminia Sow, and the gorgons. Last, but not least Orthrus/Orthos,the two headed doggo with a snake for a tail who protected Geryon's cattle. All of which ended up dead then thrown in the sky to become constellations with the exception of Cerberus. Of the eleven, 45% were slain by Heracles. So which of Cerberus' kin died at the hands of Heracles let's start with his first labor.

From Persephone and Hades Ficilets by Gaumeo

Labor 1: Slay The Nemean Lion

The first labor was to slay the Nemean Lion. Note the labors were mainly created by Hera to lead Herakles to his death. The Nemean Lion would kill countless men by either kidnapping young women which guys would then try to rescue. It also was said to appear as a beautiful girl lead men to its lair them smite them. It makes sense to why the King need this mean kitty gone. The Nemean Lion had skin that no blade could peirce, thus Heracles could not kill through normal means. So he got help from Athena who warned him the Nemean Lion's own claws were thing able to peirce its skin. So Heracles choked the Lion that killed it with its own claws. Some people say that the lion skin he wore belonged to another lion he killed. If so it would still be rumbing in the fact he killed Cerberus's brother. One why would get rid of a lion skin that was impentrable to anything. Herakles kept it that is only thing that makes sense. The Nemean Lion body became the constellation Leo. Something poor Cerberus can't see because he lives in the Underworld.

Labor 2: Slay the Hydra

The Lernaean Hydra (Hydra) "a gigantic water-snake-like monster with nine heads (the number varies), one of which was immortal. Another obvious labor for the king to give Heracles, as like its sibling the Nemean Lion it was a man eater. To add the difficulty the Hydra's blood is poisonus and when one head was chopped off three would grow in its place. Heracles had help from his nephew Iolaus. As in order to stop more heads from regrowing Heracles, Iolaus to burn the ends of the neck with fire to stop the ever growing head issue. He slayed the Hydra and likes its sibling before it became a constellation. In this case the constellation known as the Hydra. Again a constellation that Cerberus could never see. Heracles also dipped his arrows in the Hydra's blood to embue them with the poison. Something that bites Heracles later on.

Conclusion

I am ending it here because I don't want this blog long. Part 2 gets to the other possible siblings Cerberus lost to Herakles. Also how someone close to our favorite doggo may have gotten revenge on him for both the doggo and its master. So far Heracles has killed two of Cerberus' siblings and the question persist why Heracles was allowed near Cerberus. Next up the final 2/3 siblings of Cerberus killed by Heracles.

[skinks]

i can't remember if it was one of your posts or someone else's where the losers all grew their foreskins back and running to the bathroom to check but it's been living rent free in my head and all i can think of is them all whipping it out being like wtf and then someone (eddie) looks over and is like "holy fuck rich why is your dick so massive literally who gave you the right" and then eddie has a little internal crisis of 'if i wasn't gay b4 i am now'

YEAAAH LMAO THAT WAS ME thank you and also sorry it’s stuck in your head, it’s such a dumb idea but it still makes me laugh.

If the Derry Magic™ canonically reverses Richie’s vasectomy and heals their scars etc. I think it’d be a cool concept if it started to heal... well, everything, once they’re back inside city limits. I’m actually writing a weird ficlet about that idea that’s currently sitting half-baked in my drafts, but back to Foreskins 2: 2Old 4Skin

All the Losers with dicks (aside from Mike since he never left Derry) start shifting in their seats at the Jade and looking down at their laps, alarmed. Given the time period and the fact that it’s... the USA, I’m guessing most of them would be circumcised, so I can only imagine how unusual it would be to feel yourself regrowing a turtleneck. 

But Joe, I hear you cry, if they were circumcised as newborns why is it only growing back now instead of in the <18 years they were in Derry the first place? And if they’re all circumcised why are Bill/Richie/Eddie all so amused at the prospect of Stanley having “the tip of his dick” chopped off at the start of It (2017)?

What do I look like, someone who’s gonna let conflicting meta get in the way of my own conflicting foreskin headcanons? Get outta here!

Anyway, eventually it all gets too weird. Ben can feel a faint pinching that he, quite honestly, hates. They blurt some excuse to Beverly and make a mad dash for the bathroom, trying not to clutch the fronts of their pants like Richie made one joke too funny and there was a collective accident. A Titanic situation. Richie’s trying to think of a joke about this on the move but to be honest his dick feels like it’s growing or something, and ironically he can’t think of a goddamn thing to say.

They’re all waddling. Mike sighs and stands to follow them. “I thought this might happen.”

“Are you guys gonna have some No Girls Allowed meeting without me? Rich and Eddie were already doing enough dick measuring out here, this is bullshit,” Bev says, but Mike is gone. She drinks his beer as revenge.

Any and all dick measuring is happening purely on a visual level, amongst all the panicking and whisper-yelling (whisper-screaming) and vaguely horrified examination going on in the bathroom. Eddie’s had a little too much to drink to stop himself from whisper-hissing his outrage at the size of Richie’s big fucking dick (at least, he thinks later, his stunned disbelief covered his outrage at the fact that Richie wouldn’t even look at Eddie’s dick back, not even to make light of the size difference, the disappointment surrounding it something he’s not yet willing to face.)

When things fail to calm down and they’ve driven 3 other restaurant patrons right out of the bathroom and Mike has been whisper-shouted at four separate times and bullied into showing his own dick, Bill finally puts on his Big Bill Leader Hat and tries to see reason. It’s with a strange sinking feeling that he realises Mike was simply waiting for him to do so, from the pleased smile on his tired face. 

Bill’s not sure he’s looking forward to any situation that might mean he has to lead these strangers again. They’re not kids anymore. Look at their dicks! But this, at least, he can manage. “Wait, shut up - R-Richie shut up, stop pulling at it! This might not all be so b-bad, y’know? Audra - I mean, I h-heard. I read they’re... t-they can make sex, uh. Better. Way better. Easier, for everyone. That’s something, at least? Right?” He looks around, a little desperately.

It takes a few tries for Ben to zip his jeans back up with shaking hands. Eddie looks like he’s about to cry. Mike is beaming around, proudly, at everyone’s newly-cozy dicks.

“That’s fucking fantastic,” Richie says, waving his dick angrily at Bill. It’s a lot more arresting than shaking a finger, Bill will admit. “Just great, Billy - ignoring the completely insane fact that all four of us just spontaneously grew ourselves some fancy little dicksleeves outta nowhere like - Jesus Christ, what is this, the Chinese place from Freaky Friday? Did those fortune cookies swap us into exact copies of our own bodies, hold the mayo, extra pastrami? Do I look like either Jamie Lee Curtis or Lindsay fucking Lohan to you? Did Lindsay fucking Lohan grow a dick like this in that movie?”

“I don’t think anyone has a dick like that,” Eddie mumbles.

“I didn’t see that movie,” Bill says.

“That’s not the point,” Richie says. His dick waves in his fist like a sign language interpreter at the bottom of the screen helping Richie to deliver his tirade. The mirror spans the wall over the sinks, so even when Bill tries to avert his eyes he still fears having them poked out. He stares up at the water-stained ceiling tiles instead. “The point is, you want us all to be cool as cucumbers with little fucking scarves about this totally fucked up, creepy, Cronenberg bullshit because your wife fucked a British dude one time and told you to your face that it was better?!”

Bill frowns, raising his hands. “Well. I d-don’t think that’s w-w-what-”

“Do I seem,” Richie continues, looking extremely frazzled, “like someone confident enough in his sex life that re-learning the ropes at 40 fucking years old is gonna be a piece of cake?! Jesus Christ! I don’t know what to do with this thing!” Another man pushes open the bathroom door, takes one look at them, and walks straight back out. Richie curses under his breath and zips up too, Eddie following his lead, until Bill is the only one standing there with his dick out. 

Something about the situation feels vaguely familiar, Bill thinks, with a phantom ache in his cheekbone. 

Richie flails with the pockets of his jacket. “Zero times foreskin is still zero, Bill!”

With that and without washing his hands, Richie stomps out of the bathroom, head ducked, the back of his neck bright pink. Eddie hastily finishes washing his own hands and scurries after him, seething again. “I knew it! I fucking knew it!”

[polaristranslations]

Suruga Earthworm

000

"By the way, my Araragi-senpai. You've spoken of your regeneration ability as an immortal vampire before, my Araragi-senpai, but if my Araragi-senpai were to be cut right in half through the center like an earthworm, would you become 'two' of my Araragi-senpai 'in the style of' my Araragi-senpai?"

How many times are you going to say "my Araragi-senpai"?

I don't remember transferring my ownership rights to you.

Like an earthworm, you say... That reminds me, my girlfriend, Senjougahara Hitagi, who used to be a pair with Kanbaru over here, said something similar before... Though they're completely different types, and they don't exactly call each other friends, they must still have something in common. But nevertheless, to compare your upperclassman to an earthworm... Does this person actually respect me?

"Aren't earthworms (mimizu) great? I hear in English they're called 'earthworms'."[?]

"Cool."

"In the first place, not just you, Araragi-senpai, but all humans are kind of like bugs that live in the earth, after all."

How meaninglessly satirical.

But I wouldn't let it hurt me--I'd let it pass by like the wind.

"Well, if we're going that far, then you don't really have to cut through the center. No matter where you cut, your Araragi-senpai would end up multiplying, anyway. Like Kintarou-ame."[?]

"Indeed. As long as the 'core' of the earthworm isn't destroyed, then no matter where you bisect them, one will become two, two will become four, four will become eight, and so on."

"Instead of a geometric progression, it's a worm progression, huh."[?]

But, a "core"?

What a nostalgic way of putting it.

Anyway, the idea that a cut earthworm would multiply should only be based in folklore.

"But what about that worm progression?"

"Well, Araragi-senpai, if I were to succeed at multiplying you into two--nay, eight of you--then we members of the Araragi Harem would be able to coexist peacefully without need for fighting. That was what this humble Kanbaru came up with."

I'd been thinking it was just out of curiosity, but her reason was far more frightening than I'd imagined--to think that her aim was not to cut me in half for fun, but to divide me up and share. It's been a while since we ran into the term Araragi Harem, but even if such an indecent organization were to exist, it's not like there would be as many as eight members.

"It wouldn't be weird even if there were sixteen members. After all, the Araragi Harem doubles as a gathering for victims of Araragi Koyomi."

"If you ask me, it sounds like the members are increasing by a worm progression here."

Of course, this was all just in theory.

In practice, my body had already been cut up into pieces before during spring break, and the number of "me"s had not increased at all--the same as your ordinary earthworm.

Preservation of the self was the crux of the vampire's regeneration ability, so when cut into two, only one part would be regenerated, while the other would vanish.

"Wait, but hold on. If I remember correctly, wasn't there a short story published where Shinobu-chan had split into two people?"

"Wh-what are you talking about? That's..."

You sure are well-informed, Kanbaru-san.

Well, sorry if we happen to be treading the same ground here.

Anyway, the iron-blooded, hot-blooded, cold-blooded vampire Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade may be free to increase or decrease her number of selves as she wishes, but I was but an underling of hers, not to mention a mere shadow of one now.

I could even say I was a "proliferation" of Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade.

Proliferation, or perhaps, reproduction...

"However, while it doesn't really hit home for me, whether it's an earthworm or a vampire, their immortality is pretty amazing, isn't it."

"That's for sure. Whether it's an earthworm (mimizu) or a horned owl (mimizuku)."

"One of those is a bird."

"Whether it's a mimizuku or a mimizuku."

"...Could one of those actually be a bug?"[?]

There are a lot of animals that have the same name, huh. Not to mention there are times where you call the same animal by different names... Biology sure is weird.

"However, Araragi-senpai. If you look at things with a wide point of view, wouldn't humans be the amazing ones? For a macrocosmic god, humans are just lifeforms on a little fragment called Earth, and yet they managed to form borders and proliferate to over seven billion."

I see, that actually sounded like a proper point of view rather than satire... But hold on, what's a macrocosmic god? Aren't your athlete's superstitions getting a little too spiritual? Although, it would be hard to deny the spiritual with a world view that included monstrous apparitions.

Even in a narrow point of view, the "specimen" known as the Valhalla Combination, comprised of Senjougahara and Kanbaru, would find themselves going their separate ways--and in a sense, you could say their number increased, but in another sense, they decreased as well.

They were diminished.

Even earthworms--if you continue to chop one up, then someday, its life will end.

The same goes for all types of animals, across the board.

"However, I wonder which one."

"? Which one?"

"We discussed cutting you right through the center earlier, but Araragi-senpai, if you were to be cut horizontally through your torso, between your upper half and your lower half, which of them will regenerate and which of them will vanish? If it's a matter of self-preservation, then which one is the 'self' of Araragi-senpai?"

Hmm.

Thinking about it, your hair growing or your nails growing could be considered a form of regeneration, but you could hardly say your sense of self was contained in your hair or nails--but couldn't you?

After all, it's precisely those parts of the body that are used to test for DNA, which you could say is the proof of one's individuality.

"Wouldn't it be the upper half that regenerates? One thinks with their brain, after all."

"But that theory is based on the assumption that you think at all, isn't it, Araragi-senpai?"

It was a pretty rude thing to say to someone who was supposedly the leader of a harem. But if we took it one step further, if I were to be cut at the neck, would it be my body that regrows the head or my head that regrows the body?--it reminded me of stem cells.

In that case, what about the hair on the head that contained the brain? Regenerating yourself with just a strand of hair sounded less like cloning technology and more like an anecdote from Journey to the West.

It was hard to weigh.

Did the "soul" reside in the brain, or in the heart?

"In Hanekawa's case, it feels like hers might be in her heart."

"Those don't sound like the words of a person that thinks."

"For Kanbaru-kouhai, would it be your legs?"

"I wonder. After all, speaking of Journey to the West--the oddity I made a wish to was a monkey, not a vampire."

Saying that, Kanbaru looked at herself.

Not her legs, but her arms. Her left arm.

"If, at that time, Shinobu-chan had cut off this left arm with that sword--then, between the 'arm' that gets cut off and the 'me' that gets cut off. Which one would be the real 'me'?"

If she were going to effectively--or ineffectively--regenerate.

From where would it start?

As a person who's been chopped up, burned, dragged up, smashed--as a person who's had all his blood sucked out--as a person whose existence was worth as much as a strand of hair that had been pulled out, I had no way of knowing. For it was doubtful to me, too--the junior that adored me, and the junior that detested me.

Both parts were surely inseparable from the character of Kanbaru Suruga--but a question like that was better off buried deep in the earth with the earthworms.

[heckyeahepithetswitched]

candaru liveblogs reading her own writing: episode 7

let’s get right to it boys

in my head she’s doing the lame cartoon gag where they cross their arms over each other

IT’S FUNNY BECAUSE IT FITS HER JUST AS WELL AS, IF NOT BETTER THAN, HOWIE

same energy as/swap version of “Listen here, Mr. Police officer—” “It’s Ms.”

I tried to give him a gambling theme to give him SOME sort of different flavor from canon Zora, although apparently it made some of his lines confusing “-_-

listen I really love Yoomtah and Sylvie’s relationship. he pretends not to care but he doesssss

I feel like,,,, I ended up mixing motives a little bit here, but shhhhhh it’s fine

“I am NOT. a KID.” + “I’M NOTTA SQUIRE!!!”

little reference to some more Zora HCs that were later confirmed, regarding her powerset :3

I really liked this bit with the playing card, but oh BOY was the entire ending fight a giant knot to untangle. I spent like an hour trying to sort out one part in particular while my family played cards in the next room

very, very lame throwback to the McHammer reference in the Museum Arc which I regret

THIS WAS THE PART I WAS LOOKING FOR IN THE SCRIPTS WHICH MADE ME GO “I actually don’t remember writing any of this, I should do a reaction reading of my own scripts” BGJASDK

I HC that this is tied to how Ramsey lost his eye in this universe :3c

trying to write Ramsey’s voice was STUPID hard; I kept mixing Zora’s voice + accent and Will’s (Ramsey’s) voice + accent and those REALLY DO NOT MIX

there’s an improv game called “the hardest game in the world” where you have to mix two accents and now I see why it’s called that

this is 9x funnier when you consider the types of commissions Ramsey is known for

1. I am very proud of myself for figuring out a way to swap Zora’s speech

2. I got SO close to making Ramsey call Zora a “Stardew Valley character” but decided against it because I wasn’t sure if SDV was too much of a passing trend that’d become irrelevant. now I kinda regret that decision because it probably would’ve been funnier and it’s not like these were made for posterity

another small jab at Jello for THE INCONSISTENCY OF ERASER CUFFS

ok so

I originally had Percy as Sylvie’s daughter just because 1) I thought for some reason maybe that was a thing in the AU??? I think it was actually people going “haha swap!Sylvie would totally adopt swap!Percy on sight” but then like it turned into an ACTUAL thing in my head, and then 2) it provided a VERY good excuse to get the police into the museum in the museum arc because nobody ever calls the police or trips the fire alarm

but then by the time we hit this part, I was 1) in love with the Ashling-King family unit, and 2) thought that having Percy around really added motivation to Sylvie’s character, and also gave another dynamic to the bond between him and Zora, which is just (chefs kiss)

I had a split-second heart attack about “WAIT HOW DO I GET THE CUFFS OFF ZORA, SHE CAN’T HAVE HER ARM CHOPPED OFF BECAUSE I DON’T THINK SHE COULD REGROW THAT/EVEN IF SHE DID IT’D BE GRAPHIC, AND RAMSEY’S NOT EVEN TRYING TO CUT HER HE’S TRYING TO TURN HER TO GOLD—” before I remembered that gold is soft enough to bite through and I was like aw yes nevermind, I got this

hehehe :3

I knew I wanted a plot twist of some kind during the final battle because people wouldn’t be expecting it, but nothing that would impact the story, and this ended up working perfectly

also you know we had to get Beefton in there somewhere! :D

I, personally, think the gold cracks are a REALLY cool idea

everyone thank goldbricker-ramsey for that one

THE FACT THAT ZORA IS STILL TALLER THAN HIM KILLS ME

I do not remember deciding that the height chart was Zora -> Ramsey -> Sylvester but that’s how it is I guess

we decided (and by “we” I mean Mari) that since canon Zora hates kids, of course swap!Zora must LOVE them, hence her softening up around Sylvie a lot once she learns he has a daughter :’)

the hardest swap of the Museum arc was Mera and Indus because they were TOTAL OPPOSITES

the hardest swap of the Redwood arc was Ramsey and Zora because they were the EXACT SAME ENERGIES

again... I felt there was just a liiiiittle bit missing with canon Percy and Ramsey’s dynamic, and for me personally, this moment fills that missing bit in. but that’s just me and this IS my writing, so XD

so, just as a heads-up, apparently the people who did the audiobooks changed around some of these minor-character (well, “not-yet-revealed character”) swaps

and since they know the AC characters better than me, I’d proooooobably go ahead and use their swaps if this project ever did continue?? hypothetically??? basically these last bits are all still malleable

I wrote this entire scene with Trixie and Phoenicia before someone pointed out that Trixie and Phoenicia already had swaps in this universe

*facedesks*

probably not. but hey!! it was super fun!!! the most fun I’ve had in a LONG time, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a project as much as the Epithet Switched scripts.

Spliinkles thank u for letting me take ur awesome idea and just run wild with it, writer brain went brrrrrr and it was such an absolutely fantastic experience that I can only hope I get to relive :’)

[its-max-okay]

TWIST MY ARM || plot drop .o3

Thursday 22 October 2020; Afternoon. You are halfway through your shift when an emergency patient shows up at the Triage Center. His left arm from the elbow down is missing and the stump is bleeding heavily. He is also missing several of the fingers on his right hand. He has avoided answering any and all questions about how he received these injuries but after looking them over you’re fairly certain they were blown off by an explosive device, possibly one he was working on.

This patient is a Club Strongarm and has already paid the non-Spade fee for healing. 

Partway through an exhaustive anatomy study with a couple of the lower-ranked Emitters, Max might’ve been lowkey praying for something more exciting to happen. Even a sprained wrist from the training grounds could’ve spiced things up; she would’ve settled for a Command Sergeant Major with a papercut, quite frankly, but what she was ultimately delivered was much more of a handful than that.

There were two things Max was positive she should not be taking this much delight in: one, that her source of excitement was the fact that someone was horribly hurt; and two, that this was going to be her first real shot at attempting to regrow a patient’s limb. It was funny how reluctant people were to chop off so much as a finger for the sake of her practice. She couldn’t even talk Kev into it, and there was a lot he was willing to do for her.

Granted, she’d really have preferred her first go at this not be with the likes of a Strongarm, and a really fucking shifty one at that -- but beggars couldn’t be choosers, obviously, and Max wasn’t about to look a gift amputation in the mouth.

“Back right-hand room,” Max ordered, leaving little room for argument as she stepped to the side and pointed with conviction. The two propping the injured man up followed her lead without argument. A third Emitter started to fall into step, but Max caught her by the elbow to lean in and murmur, “I need you to sedate him. Put him all the way under. I don’t want him to move while I’m working, but I also don’t want him to wake up for a good while after I’m done.” Max raised her eyebrows meaningfully. “Understand?”

The woman’s eyes widened for a moment before she nodded, and quickly. “Yes, Sergeant Major.”

“You’re going to help him?” Kev murmured dubiously from where he hovered at her elbow, and Max hesitated only briefly before nodding.

“We’re obviously gonna need to get more information out of him, and I’m hoping nothing can guilt trip into answering questions like, hey, you ungrateful bitch, I grew your whole arm back; throw me a bone.” Kev only looked more dubious. Max shrugged, undeterred. “Anyway, come on. You’re gonna watch.”

Kev paled.

By the time Max brushed between the curtains to assess her newest patient, the man was already heavily sedated and his shirt cut back, the wound hastily cleaned but still bleeding. Kev made an uncomfortable noise in the back of his throat that Max ignored, dragging a chair loudly from the corner to plant at the man’s side before cracking her knuckles.

This was liable to take a while.

‘Thick skin,’ she thought absently to herself, Anton’s words coming to mind as a slow sweep of her hand worked to stem the flow of blood, pinching together muscle fiber and flesh until she had a neater foundation to work on. The man’s skin didn’t look any thicker than it ought to -- and gods knew they all had a pretty clear view of that -- but as Max let her eyes unfocus and started to build on what was lost, she could feel a soft, stubborn resistance.

This was going to take a while.

The rest of the Triage center fell away. Max hadn’t even noticed if any of the other students had snuck in to watch, nor was she likely to notice if any additional emergencies felt like taking place beyond the sanctuary of their drawn curtain. She had one focus and one focus only, and that was unspooling thread after silvery thread from her core through her fingertips to fortify and pull together flesh and relentless bone. As before and as always he worked layer by layer, inside-out, taking breaks from the exhaustive thickness of his bones to fold softer layers of muscle and skin around them.

The longer she worked the heavier and heavier Max’s elbows leaned at the edge of the bed, shoulders sagging and breaths growing shallow. She’d made it so far as the wrist, and while reworking the twin radius and ulna was a whole task in and of itself, the wrist was going to be a particular bitch. There were so many individual bones in such careful alignment -- and maybe this guy didn’t deserve full range of motion in his joints for whatever dumbass thing he’d done to land himself on their doorstep, but Max was going to give it to him, anyway. Maybe she’d leave it with a weird little click when it moved a certain way; something to remember her by.

‘Asclepius, give me strength.’ The thought -- the prayer -- was intrusive, unbidden, but the sentiment stood: if the Old God was watching, if he really cared enough about one foul-mouthed Emitter and the crystal core nestled deep inside her, he could spare half a minute’s attention.

Whether or not her god heard her, apparently Kev did. Maybe she’d accidentally murmured her prayer aloud or maybe she just looked especially rough; either way, she felt the young Healer’s hands settle gently, almost reluctantly, at her shoulders. Max drew a shaky breath through a ghost of a smile and dug her heels in.

She visualized the carefully penned anatomical structures in her father’s journals, ones she’s painstakingly copied and re-copied and committed to memory. Scaphoid. Lunate. Trapezium--

Max flinched even as her thumb formed and sculpted the next delicate piece of bone, feeling the edges of even her expanded core start to fray. She wanted a chance to push her new limits, and she was getting it -- she only hoped she wouldn’t find them before she was finished.

“Trapezoid. Capitate. Hamate. Triquetrum…” Max sucked in a breath, briefly interrupting the recitation she knew by heart, knew in her sleep. Kev’s fingers gave her shoulders a reluctant but fortifying squeeze. She continued. “Pisiform. Fuck.”

Nineteen delicate bones to go. ‘Could just make it five,’ she thought to herself with a wry, borderline delirious amusement as she continued. ‘Five weird finger-sticks…’ Max cut the thought off before she made herself laugh. The metacarpals and phalanges, at least, were relatively uniform and didn’t need to slot together so particularly and delicately as the carpals.

Max could feel her esophagus tightening as she smoothed new skin over more delicate knots of muscle. ‘That’s new,’ she noted distractedly, feeling as though the rough, fuzzy edges of her expanded core were starting to bleed into and lash out at what was closest in protest of its prolonged use. It was stronger, obviously, but more petulant -- much like its owner.

By the time Max had finished the left arm down to the fingertips and neat pink fingernails, her entire insides felt like they were sandpapered raw and rebelling against her. The problem was, she wasn’t quite done. They weren’t quite done.

“Other hand.”

“Max--” Kev started reluctantly, ever the last to attempt to school her on her limits.

“Other hand.”

Kev left her only long enough to step in and reach over the man’s body to grab his opposite hand, and Max took a measure of pride both in how quickly he moved and how little he balked at the charred stumps of fingers.

With the practice from the first under her belt and the better general shape it was in, Max made comparatively quick work of the Strongarm’s other hand and the remaining few fingers even as her breaths grew ragged and thin. She didn’t even have the energy to swear when she finished, which was telling -- her head simply bowed, eyes squeezed shut and prickling, before she pushed the man’s hand off of his stomach to flop back to the other side of the table.

Kev was saying something, either to her or those nearby, and while she couldn’t hear exactly what Max still felt the briefest, most exhausted surge of pride. He’d stuck it out, and better yet, he hadn’t puked over her shoulder.

She could feel his gawkish arms trying to guide her out of the chair, and Max moved with the touch and without complaint. “Alert the General,” she insisted blearily, leaning her weight into Kev as they made their way towards the opposite far corner where he could help her onto an empty cot. “I know he’s busy… but…” The Emitter struggled to focus as she stretched out, head sinking into the pillow with a prolonged exhale, feeling her muscles and organs shifting around the shrapnel edges of her depleted core. Her face twisted into a grimace, one that only relaxed with the weight of Kev’s hand on her shoulder again. “He doesn’t have to come, but someone’s gotta… tell him what happened… and who we got…”

The high Emitter fell quiet for a moment, eyes shut and apparently relaxed. Kev shifted uncomfortably at the side of the bed, and would’ve stepped away if she hadn’t suddenly grabbed the front of his uniform.

“And get me a goddamn sandwich.” A pause. “Please.”