#fan: space catholicism

[bread--quest]

[ID: A redraw of the "let's talk about the mail" scene from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Sonder, a person with pale skin, short brown curly hair, blue eyes, and glasses, is glaring angrily at another person, mostly offscreen, and holding up one hand while another one rests on a conspiracy board behind her. The conspiracy board involves a picture of the Coin from Blaseball labeled "this bitch", a picture of a bunch of the suns from Blaseball, a logo of the sun with a blue arrow through it labeled "bad? KILL", the Welcome to Desert Bluffs logo, a picture of the Dawn Machine from Fallen London, a large piece of paper just reading "the sun the sun the sun" over and over, a piece of paper with a dollar sign on it and a smaller piece of paper below it reading "capitalism (BAD)", and many other pieces of paper with writing on them, including one with "destroya destroya against the sun we're the enemy," "the sun goes out when god explodes (harrow the ninth)," "god??", and a few pieces that are partially covered but appear to read "killed," "bastard," "i'm so cold," and simply "the sun". All of these are connected by red strings. Captions at the bottom read "Let's talk about the sun. Can we talk about the sun? I've been dying to talk about the sun." End ID.]

my mood recently and also constantly forever

[dingodad]

please god i need to know what U think of the whole “jadebloods are all female!” thing because i got into homestuck in 2019 around the time of friendsim and (retching) Lanque so i always assumed they were explicitly intended to be an all-female caste. however, re-reading the comic this year, i couldnt find a mention of it other than virgo and the Space aspect being really feminine, but i think kanayas journey with motherhood is more kanaya-centric than All-Jadebloods centric??

on one hand, it makes sense given that alternia has very real gendered oppression, so what’s better for that than CATHOLICISM?? on the other hand, i always saw kanaya as being transfem coded, because it connects so well with roxy yknow.. homestuck fans love to insist that certain characters just have to be cis women (kanaya, jade, roxy)

(as an aside; was “long hair was butch on alternia” a one off joke? i like speculation about alternia’s fashion opposing earth, lol)

most all of our basis for explicitly gendered interpretation of Alternia comes from act 6 intermission 3, where Aranea tells us that "jade 8loods were also an almost exclusively female caste". so the door has always been open for there to be "some male jadebloods". but it's a mistake to view this as having anything to do with any kind of "biological sex". the whole idea of biological sex among trolls is a smoke screen. the jadebloods' assigned gender at birth is "jadeblood". this is what makes them a feminised caste.

Caliborn doesn't have a clue what biological sex is. Aranea will tell you that there are boy cherubs and girl cherubs, but for your own sanity you need to cast this idea out of your mind: cherub sex takes place between good and evil cherubs - which is determined by their blood - and anything else is just roleplay. Caliborn's attitude toward sexing is that the ones he likes are boys - that's all the thought that goes into it. and that's the mindset we need to be aware of when we delve into understanding troll gender. there are some trolls who have breast tissue and some who don't, but they aren't "mammaries" in any sense, so there's no reason to believe they're actually sexual characteristics of any kind; maybe this is what Lord English chose to base his gender schema on, but the idea that this means there must be "male trolls" and "female trolls" is completely imagined for the narrative convenience of the human reader.

when we read that there are "male-dominated" highblood castes and therefore by implication female-populated lowblood castes, it's not by some coincidence of biology: the highblood castes are male-dominated BECAUSE they are highblood castes. each caste has a role to play in Caliborn's Alternia, and just as the highblooded roles are those of patriarchal domination, the lower castes must take on roles of feminised submission; and in the case of the jades in particular, this means breeding duties. the fact that this also comes with the expectation to wear makeup and pretty clothes is just more roleplay.

so tl;dr what i think of "the all jadebloods are female thing" is that it is very obviously true but in a way more 5 dimensional gender studies way than anyone else tends to mean when they say it

my pet "long hair was butch on alternia" headcanon - which is a joke but in the way all headcanons about alternia should be jokes of some kind - actually kind of relates to this lol. bc i figure that if gendered expectations of female trolls includes working in disgusting underground caverns filled with genetic material, it's going to be practical to keep your hair close to your head where it won't get dirty, in much the same way the feminist image of the short-haired woman became popular in the west during and after world war 2, wherein a lot of women had to start wearing their hair close to their heads to avoid scalping themselves in the factory machinery they suddenly had to start working with. hence kanaya dedicated to her assigned feminine role and wearing her hair short vs. porrim rebelling against it for feminist reasons and thus wearing her hair at a length that would be totally impractical for wading through gene pools.

[purlty23]

There’s a really big, really nuanced conversation to be had about how a lot of Ghost fans come into the fandom space without any understanding of the history of the thing Ghost is satirizing, and wind up characterizing the members in a way that’s so completely against what it stands for This isn’t to say that in order to enjoy Ghost you need to have read the bible and know 18th century Catholicism. But it WOULD do some people some good to learn about Catholicism through a critical lens, the rise of modern Satanism, its values, and also its own criticisms

[the-lisechen]

~6.7k. gen. copia/f!oc. the cardinal has a cigarette with a fan. from there, it gets a little weird. (or: copia gets into a fist fight at 3am in a denny's parking lot over theology. metaphorically speaking.)

header by the divine @enjoy-my-swearing

(the fic that started it all and has eaten my brain ever since. don't mind me, i just wanted to reformat this one and also have it on my tumblr for posterity)

some kind of cosmic rearrangement - ao3

(full series here)

religious discussion, catholic character that isn't an asshole, unresolved sexual tension. tw: catholicism

Copia stepped out into the night, face paint mostly cleaned off, save for the black around his eyes. He couldn't even remember the name of the town they were in. Somewhere in the American South, the air warm and heavy with humidity that felt like silk against his skin. He settled his shoulders against the brick of the alleyway, and sighed, his blood still fizzing from the ritual. The comedown from the adrenaline dump always left him a little hollowed out and shaky.

As he passed a hand over his face, the car in front of him trilled out like a bird and flashed its lights. He turned to the sound of boots up the wet pavement. A small figure, female, dishwater blonde hair, head down, hands stuffed into black skinny jeans. Humming something he could recognize as one of his songs, and that never got old.

He watched her approach, curious. When she at last stepped into the light, she looked up at him, and startled like a deer. Her hands flew up to her mouth, and she squeaked out a breathless “Oh shit!” It took her a moment to recover, and my, wasn't that an interesting shade of pink. He’d seen people blush, of course, but this was remarkable, that red, that quickly.

He had to smile, even bowing a little. “Bunoasera, signora."

"Um! Hi! You are very good at your job!"

Her purse plopped next to her feet, and she knelt down to recollect it, the blush deepening to the color of late spring roses. "Sorry, I'm sorry--" she said, hands shaking as she scooped spilled detritus back into her purse, pens and lip balm spilling from her fingers.

He bent over to help her, smiling. "It is no trouble, signora. Not the worst I've seen." He paused, sitting back on his heels, and picked up a battered paperback the color of burnt orange. "'The Liberation of Theology.'" He looked up at her, mismatched eyes sharp, assessing. "This is what you read? At my show?"

The girl-- woman, really-- went still. She got to her feet and took half a step back, widening her stance, her shoulders squared. "Yeah." She tilted her chin up. "Is it really that strange?"

He flipped it to read the back cover, and her spine relaxed a fraction, with his focus off of her. "Perhaps... somewhat unexpected." An understatement. He stood, slow, putting himself further into her personal space, eyes still on the text in his hand. He read the subtitle. "'An instrument in human liberation.' Has it been?" He looked down at her, not exactly trying to loom, but not exactly going out of his way not to. "In your experience."

The woman folded her arms, leaning back against her car. Keeping her distance. "It can be. It should be." She flipped her keyring, once. "And in my experience? Yes, actually. But I am fully aware my experience may be-- atypical."

"In what way?"

"Well." She looked up, exposing the long pale line of her throat, and her Southern accent became gradually more apparent as she spoke. "I converted to Catholicism. Not really from anything, you understand, unless you count the vaguely agnostic Protestant background noise in America. And I did my catechism classes with a Capuchin Franciscan. A lot of mysticism. And a lot of social action to offset the navel-gazing that comes with that. The culture was-- it's different. I mean, how much do you know about liberation theology?"

"For the purposes of this conversation?" He idly tapped her book against his thigh. "Let us say... not much."

"In simple terms: feed the hungry, clothe the naked. Like the guy said in the book, right? It's both defending the poor and taking aim at the structural issues that are actively oppressing people. Real basic."

"You need a God to tell you this?"

He saw her warming to the subject, eyes alight and not quite on his. "Of course not, but it's a useful framework. And some people do! Whatever provides incentive. Besides that, it works on a practical level, if the Church is your primary social apparatus, that's a structure in place to distribute resources if the state is failing. I mean, the Jesuit approach in South America is not quite the same as the Black church in the Civil Rights movement in the USA in the Sixties, but it's not too far off, either. It's like--" and she cut herself off, the blush coming back, eyes cast downward. "It's just what's supposed to happen. What it says on the tin."

He ruffled the pages with a gloved hand a few times, watching her. "Incentive." He gestured at her with the book, halfway to accusatory. "If someone is doing something in expectation of divine reward, then they are, I'm afraid, an asshole."

"Man, I truly do not care about the motive. I care about the effect it has on the world. But faith without works is dead."

"You believe this."

"Yeah."

"You are this passionate about it, and yet you came to see me. My songs are nothing but blasphemy. Why?"

"Look, as blasphemy goes-- and I'm not trying to denigrate anything you're doing here-- this is just not that big a deal."

He stared at her. "I am literally praising the devil. Literal songs about, literally, devil worship."

"Yeah, and it slaps. Can I have my book back?"

He held it out carefully, as if it was a chunk of meat and she was a strange animal. One that might bite. "What is it, then, that qualifies as blasphemy? In your opinion."

She took it, opened the backseat door to her car, and tossed it in, careful not to turn her back on him. "I dunno. Start with that 'prosperity gospel' bullshit. 'If you're rich, it's because Jesus wants you to be rich!' Joel Osteen can bite the fucking curb. It's lazy exegesis, is what it is." Again, he saw her restrain herself, and she ran a hand through her hair, embarrassed. "I can go on. Obviously. But I think if you're getting bent out of shape about this kind of thing, you need to reassess your priorities."

"No, this is-- at least amusing. You haven't chased us out with torches and pitchforks yet, so I will continue to assume good faith." He smiled. "So to speak."

"Trust me, I am leaving a lot of stuff out." She fished around in her purse, picked out a brilliantly blue pack of cigarettes, and tapped them rhythmically on the heel of her hand. "So what's your deal? I don't know a lot about theistic Satanism. Pop the hood on it, man, tell me how it works."

"In simple terms?"

"Sure." She cracked a smile, thumbing a cigarette out of the pack.

"We honor the serpent that brought knowledge to Eve, as a liberator from the oppression of the corrupted demiurge that you call God."

"The snake, this was one of those gnostic things, right? That was, what, the Ophites? I thought they found it at Nag Hammadi."

"Fragments. References. But we have had the Syntagma for centuries. This was Hippolytus, yes? We borrowed a few things from Marcion of Sinope, as well. From those texts, and other pieces of what you would call apocrypha, we solidified a doctrine. Eventually. These things take time, no? Remind me, when did your people decide on the canon?"

"Council of Rome. I wanna say three..." she tapped the unlit cigarette, "...eighty seven? Somewhere in there. Fourth century, anyway."

"Just so. As a, you'd say-- distinct movement, yes? I would say sometime around the twelfth century that we came together."

"Hold on, twelfth century, evil demiurge-- what was this, like a splinter of the Cathars?"

"Not unrelated. When it came to that kind of dualism, we merely decided to side with the physical world."

"By running straight to the devil."

"Eh. No half measures."

"I'm just kinda surprised it got traction in that environment."

"Mostly on the-- margins, you would say? We had solidified the clerical structure some time before, modeled on the Catholic church. Camouflage, yes? But it was with the obvious corruption of the fourteenth century that we started to gain momentum. Acolytes. A whisper network of proselytization."

"That is neat. Like, what, a Dark Reformation kind of thing?"

"...That is, perhaps, somewhat reductive. But not inaccurate."

"Oh that is so cool. It's like finding a whole new life form in the Marianas Trench. No, I can see a kind of sense to it. Get far enough away from Rome, look as close as you can to the actual Church, you might get away with it."

"They did burn us. Your people did do that."

"I am sure that they did," she said, with a certain blithe amicability. "Burnt a lot of Cathars, too, makes sense. Sir-- Father-- I'm sorry. What is the title?"

"Cardinal."

A blink, barely perceptible. "Cardinal, then. Your Eminence, if you want me to stand here and apologize for every atrocity the Church committed, we're gonna be here all night, and it'll get boring quick. And, forgive me, at what point have I attached a moral judgment over your faith?"

He spread his hands, smiling a little. "Very well, I concede the point. You can understand if I am somewhat-- defensive."

"Yeah, of course." She grinned, mostly to herself. "And here I am, a good Catholic girl. Everything you rail against."

"Eh. It could be worse. You could be a Baptist."

She let out a laugh at that, an entirely inelegant sound, and Copia felt as if he'd won something.

"Oh. No. No, I couldn't. Too diffuse. A million different opinions going every which way. I'm also not into sola fide--"

"'By faith alone.'"

"Yeah. Not my bag. If it doesn't inspire you to help your fellow human beings and not just focus on your own salvation, it's probably bullshit." Finally she put the cigarette she'd been fidgeting with into her mouth. "Man. Cathars and gnostics." The woman brought out a burnished zippo and flipped the lid, a faintly musical sound. She didn't light her cigarette, but shot him a sidelong look, eyes alight. "Sounds more like heresy than outright blasphemy."

"Oh, now I'm offended." He was not, in fact, offended. He was fascinated. He wanted to study her under a microscope. "Certainly, that's the first time I've heard that. Maybe I should send you to talk to the-- ehh, how is it? The protestors. What do you call, the evangelicals, yes?"

"They don't like Catholics, either. The veneration of Mary, y'know? Idolatry." Finally she sparked the lighter, her face turning to alabaster in the light of the flame. "We're both going to hell in their lights. Just different neighborhoods." She bent her head to the light. A long drag on the cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke upwards. "So no, I don't think going to a concert counts as a sin. There's just some songs I can't sing along to, is all."

Copia leaned back against the wall, arms folded, considering her. "You know that your Church would call this blasphemy. What is it, then, that you think I'm doing, if not spreading the word of Satan?"

A long drag of her cigarette. "Sick tunes, man," she said, around the smoke. Shrugged. "It's fun. And fun is underrated, as a concept."

"Signora, I don't think 'fun' is what brought you here." He leveled her with his mismatched stare, and she dropped her eyes.

"No," she said, studying the cherry on her cigarette. "No, fun would not be enough."

He took a step closer, not quite edging into her personal space. "What, then? What could possibly bring you to deny your programming, when you clearly believe with such conviction?"

The back of her shoulders hit the top of her car, but she tilted her head up at him in challenge. "Call it joy, then." A defiant kind of vulnerability. "That's what I hear in your songs. And that's a rarer thing."

"What a monstrous thing, to deny joy. To yourself, to others. That sounds to me like blasphemy. What abnegation of the self. We are not hurting anyone. I am not hurting anyone. Why not do as you like?"

"'An it harm none, do as thou wilt.'"

"Precisely."

"Isn't that, what, Louÿs by way of Crowley? Nineteenth century. I thought your stuff was older than that."

"That is beside the point and you know it. Answer me."

"Because that's where it falls apart for me! To begin and end with 'do no harm' does not work. You cannot always do exactly as you like, you have an obligation in society! Feed the hungry. 'Do what you want, whatever,' that's too passive. And being passive in the face of oppression is oppression! Come on, man, you must know this. You're too smart not to know this."

"I'm sorry, you want to talk about oppression? With the literal Catholic Church? With the colonialism and the forced conversion and the actual literal Inquisition? Even laying that aside, the harm it's doing now, how can you still stay with it?"

"Because that's not all it is! Not all it could be. Because it can be just, it can be equitable, and it can be used as a tool for liberation. I believe that, I do. And if if I'm in it-- and oh boy you would not believe how much I'm in it-- then I have a moral obligation to try to shape it towards those ends. Because those people--" she flung a hand out, gesturing towards what, he couldn't say, and he took a step back. "Those bullshit assholes that want to strip people of healthcare and gut the social safety net-- they're in my house! And they don't get to fucking win."

"You must see that this is about control. You are too smart not to know this."

The woman slumped back against her car, and took another long drag on her cigarette, before dropping it and crushing it under her boot, an oddly fussy swiveling motion. "I dunno, man. For me it's about service. You just don't fix something by walking away. And anyway I'm committed."

"I think you are tilting at windmills." He watched her, the last tendrils of cigarette smoke from her exhale the same blue-grey of her eyes, letting the silence linger until the smoke cleared entirely. "What is your name?"

She flicked her eyes back up at him, and then away, coming to a decision. "Sophia Turner." She bit her lip. "Sophie."

"Sophie. That's lovely."

"Thank you. And what do I call you? Feels a little weird, saying 'Your Eminence' to a guy whose faith you don't subscribe to."

He tilted his head in the faintest approximation of a bow, biting back a smile. "Copia."

"Well. I am delighted to make your acquaintance." Her accent more pronounced with the formality, a distinctly Southern drawl.

"You say you're committed. How? You don't have to stay anywhere forever."

"Oh. Oh boy. Um." She looked down at her hands, picked at the edge of a painted nail, and then turned to him, watching his mismatched eyes for a long moment. She smiled, a little rueful. "I am taking my vows in a few months." And to his blank look-- "The Maryknoll Sisters of St. Dominic." He blinked, recoiled a little, and she flinched, turning to look down the street, not seeing the rain on the asphalt, the streetlight shining on the fire escape. "I still don't think it's a sin. But it's-- maybe a little harder to square. After that. Wanted to see you while I could."

Her face composed. No-color hair hanging in grey eyes. He wanted to reach out, to brush it away, to see her clear, to make her look at him. A gulf between them, on the narrow sidewalk. Something twisted in his chest, at the waste of it, the thought of a fire like that locked in a cloister. And yet: "I could never fault someone for devotion to their faith. The discipline is admirable. Truly. But I would-- Are you allowed? To fraternize with the enemy?"

"Well. Maybe in the spirit of friendly ecumenical dialogue." She looked up at the streetlights, shoulders tensed. She chewed at her lip. "We are allowed to have friends, you know."

He had to drop his gaze, at that, a sharp inhalation. "Ah." And again: "Ah. Hm." He looked back up at her, at the tense muscle in her jaw, her face still resolutely turned away from him. "I wonder--?"

She darted a quick look at him, not quite daring to look at him full-on, yet, and made a motion for him to continue.

He had to smile, even if it was with a little trepidation. "Do you have another cigarette?"

That rough bark of a laugh again, and yes, it felt like a victory. "Yeah. Yeah, man, sure." She pulled out the cigarette pack and extracted one, holding it out with the slightest self-deprecating hint of ceremony. He took it between his gloved fingers, careful not to touch her. When he put it to his lips she leaned in to light it in a movement that seemed both courtly and instinctual, an ingrained habit. He couldn't quite look at her when she did it, shocked by the casual intimacy of the gesture. The warmth of the flame through his gloves, the first rough hit of smoke at the back of his throat and the head-swimming nicotine rush. An awful taste, and completely satisfying. He closed his eyes at it and drew in deep, amazed all over again at how much tension dissipated on the exhale.

When the initial wave of the nicotine high had passed, the fatigue settled in, and he tilted his head back against the bricks, eyes still closed, too tired to be on guard. "Where are we? I confess, I lost track."

"...Asheville, honey." A pause."D'jeet yet?"

Well, that certainly got him to look at her. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh, that was very pronounced, wasn't it? My apologies. Have you eaten?"

His brain felt like static. It was all the answer she needed. "What I figured. C'mon, I know a spot."

"I should--" He stopped, inexplicably stricken. "We're leaving in the morning. I don't remember where's next. Charleston, perhaps?"

"I'll have you home before bedtime, scout's honor." He hesitated. Gently: "I don't have designs on your virtue, Cardinal."

He was tired, and sore, and his head was starting to hurt somewhere behind his right eye. He could feel the dried sweat on himself, like a film, absolutely revolting.

"Alright," he said.

She led and he followed, falling into step at her left elbow, almost without thought. "This is the South, yes? We won't-- we might attract. Attention."

"Mm. I might would worry about it somewhere wasn't Asheville. Here'd probably be fine."

"That seems to be an awful lot of weight to put on 'probably.'"

"More worried about someone from your show running into us and losing their minds, be honest with you."

"As in, dropping their purse and squealing?" Was he enjoying this? He was.

"Oh you think you're funny. And I did not squeal."

"Heh. It was a little bit of a squeal."

"Ain't gonna argue the point with you."

The nicotine felt wonderful. He grinned up at the streetlight filtering through a magnolia tree, the orange light reflecting on the leaves, the faint citrus scent hanging in the thick air. He couldn't restrain himself. "You are not, I hope, leading me into temptation?"

"Oh, foul! Foul. Get thee behind me."

"Equally terrible, signora."

They lapsed into silence for a while. Copia came to the last quarter inch of his cigarette, pinching off one more drag before dropping it down a storm drain. The smell would linger, but it had been blissful in the moment. "So."

"So."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Barbecue joint, open all night. Just up here, actually. You had barbecue yet?"

"I have not."

"You in for a treat, then."

They rounded the corner, heading into the jaundiced sodium light of a patchy parking lot, under a flickering red neon sign. 'Little Pigs Genuine Pit BBQ.' It seemed somehow ominous, but the set of her shoulders reassured him. Somewhat. She pushed open the door with its small jangling bell to red vinyl booths, formica tabletops, wood paneling. Vinegar and roasting meat.

He could feel the eyes on them as she ordered for them both, in a dialect so thick it was almost incomprehensible to him. He stepped closer to murmur, "Coffee for me, please, signora," while he surveilled the crowd. Not outright hostile, had seen stranger things, maybe, but a collective flicker of curiosity before sliding off of them. That flat and unsympathetic gaze. Her accent helped. His obvious manners did as well. Still, he was on edge.

He stayed on edge until he slid into a booth opposite her with his back to the wall, and even then it only let up slightly, a background hum to go along with the labored air conditioning. The barbecue was very nearly worth it, salt and sweet and vinegar and umami, along with the blunt force animal pleasure at hot food after a long time without. He looked up at her, making an inarticulate noise of shocked delight through the sandwich, and she nodded in eager agreement with her mouth full. Swallowed. "I know, right?"

"You cannot convert me."

"Okay. Wasn't trying."

"If you could, this might do it."

"Welcome to the South. It's got problems, but there are compensations."

"So I see."

They lost themselves in the food for a little while, and Copia, a usually fastidious man, found that it was actually impossible to eat a barbecue sandwich neatly. After a while he gave up trying, grateful for the strange softness of American paper napkins. It made sense, if the food was like this. He eyed her iced tea, wondering about it, if that was also an American custom, or if it only applied to the region.

She caught him looking after half a second, and passed it over with barely an eyeblink of thought, the most natural thing in the world.

"Oh, and you've lost me. This is an obscene amount of sugar."

"They do call it 'sweet tea' for a reason."

"Are you sure that this isn't just colored sugar water?"

"Reasonably so. Might be accentual, brings out the depth of flavor, like. Least it isn't corn syrup."

"This is a nightmare dystopia you live in."

"Could be. Try one of them hush puppies, then you get back to me."

"Mm." Then, after following instructions, "I will concede on the food."

"Yeah. There's nowhere and nothing that's bad all the way through."

"Perhaps." He took another sip of her tea, pleased at her sputter of mock-indignation. "This brings me to where it falls apart for me. An omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, omnibenevolent God."

"That is the doctrine."

"Why, then, evil? Why suffering?"

"We going with theodicy, then?"

He motioned for her to continue, a little gleeful.

"Which answer would you like, from the, oh, four-five thousand years that this has been a question?" She tossed the rolled-up sleeve of her straw in his general direction, smiling. "Why you coming at me with this shit, man?"

"Ehh. I want to know what you think. You, not your Church."

She nodded, and poked at the ice in her tea with her straw while she gave the question the consideration it was due. Finally: "I like Simone Weil for this. You read any Simone Weil?"

"Let us say that I haven't."

"Okay." The vinyl booth squeaked as she leaned back. "This isn't necessarily unique to her, it's got a lot of similarities with-- a Jewish creation story, yeah? But creation is where God withdrew. If God is everything, for creation to exist, there has to be places where God is not. If there's places that God is not, then almost by definition they are not, inherently, holy. It's apophatic, unknowable, like John of the Cross or Kierkegaard or what have you-- I'm getting into the weeds here. Evil is the form which God's mercy takes in the world. Affliction-- she's got a specific term for this, she's talking about spiritual affliction more than physical affliction-- doesn't create human misery, so much as reveals it. And it drives us towards God."

"That sounds, if you will pardon me, fucking horrific. The act of a sadist."

"I don't know that I'm explaining this well. We are created matter, and with affliction we are consumed by God. In the Incarnation, God suffers affliction, is made matter, and consumed by us. It's reciprocal. And if you can go through affliction and still love, and recognize your fellow human being as someone else who has suffered like you, then your duty is to help."

"No, still terrible."

"How do your people explain it, then?"

"By not having an omnipotent deity, to start."

"...I walked right into that one. I surely did. Evil demiurge, again?"

"All about control," he replied, amiable.

"Fair enough. I'm not a Jesuit, I could maybe get at this better if I was. My whole thing with it is, there's a difference between affliction-- which is personal-- and, say, generalized oppression, right? The personal makes you more empathetic with the collective."

"I can see the logic there, yes. I do not know if I agree, but I can see it. But do you truly need to suffer to sympathize with another's suffering?"

She turned her glass around in her hands, focusing hard on the ridged plastic edges. "I'unno. Some things you don't understand till you've been through them. Difference between empathy and sympathy, I guess."

"This is, what. You say, 'the personal is political?'"

She cracked a grin at that. "Oh, you done a lot of reading on second-wave feminism, then?"

"Condescending and uncalled for," he said, wagging a finger at her, mock-stern.

She held up a hand. "Fair point, apologies."

"Te absolvo."

"Thank you." She turned her glass in her hands, trailing through the condensation with a chipped fingernail. "My point being. For me. Affliction leads to empathy, and empathy leads you to act. What's the quote. 'Misery as a collective fact expresses itself as an injustice that cries to the heavens.' That's Oscar Romero, I think? Yeah. Oscar Romero. Anyway the thing he gets at-- Saint Oscar Romero, excuse me, did a lot of stuff in El Salvador in the the seventies, but the idea being: turning people into commodities for economic oppression, that's sin. The idolatry of wealth, of 'national security systems,' that's sin. Divine love should be mediated through justice. Gloria dei vivens homo--"

"'The glory of God is the living person.'"

"Yeah, exactly. Romero was on some-- gloria dei vivens pauper, which I think is probably about right."

"'The glory of God is in the poor.' Hm. And how well did that work out for him?"

"Well. They shot the guy during Mass in nineteen eighty."

"A martyr's death. Isn't that what your people aspire to?"

"Not me, man. I wanna live. But yes, he did lean in hard after his friend was killed. That was an inciting incident. I won't deny it."

"So, what, it is acceptable for one death, if it spurs on 'the greater good?'" He made air quotes at her, and she frowned.

"Not gonna debate the very concept of martyrdom with you, but I'm gonna say no, of course not. But like. Me personally? Rather that than have it go to waste. Some right wing fascist chucklefuck takes me out, I'd sure hope my people'd leverage it for all it's worth."

He sat back and tipped his coffee at her. "Bleak."

"Maybe. We each owe a death. And I mean, despite the guy being beatified, he isn't even necessarily the main dude in Latin America. None of these are exactly new concepts, you understand. But as a modern movement, really, it starts in nineteen sixty-eight, with the Medellín conference in Colombia, kind of as a response to Vatican Two, and from there--" she stopped herself, and raised her glass of tea at him in mock-salute. "Minutiae. The point, and I think I'm cribbing from Ernesto Cardenal here, is that while God is love, love can only exist in accordance with equality and justice."

He tilted his head, raising his eyebrows in total skepticism. "I can only say that this has been-- the opposite of my experience. To put it in the most, eh, diplomatic terms possible."

"The Church has done horrible, fucked up things. Continues to do horrible fucked up things. In a space that big, though, there are always going to be practices that are inherently contradictory. This one is mine. And I have the benefit of being fucking right."

"You do see, don't you, how that-- attitude? Mentality, yes? Is dangerous. Even you! Even if I happen to think that you're right. Which I actually do. The benefit of Satanism, I find, is that we do have room for differences. It is, you would say, I think, built in? There is no wrong way to approach. You find your own way. Nobody will lead you, nobody will control you."

"And how far has that kind of rugged individualism progressed the reduction of human suffering?" she snapped.

"At least it doesn't perpetuate it!" he shot back.

They glared at each other over the formica, not quite snarling, equally frustrated.

The diner had gone quiet. Blank suntanned faces, the lone clink of a spoon in a coffee cup, the somehow awful bubbling of the deep fryer. A lot of people, for one in the morning, he thought. They looked at each other in mutual alarm for one tensed breath, and went for their wallets at the same time.

"No," he said, firm, fishing past Euros for American dollars. "You are taking a vow of poverty and I am an actual rockstar." He shot a stern glance at her opened mouth and felt a stab of immense satisfaction when she shut it, apparently- miraculously, even- chastised. He threw down enough to cover the bill and the tip and reached to drag her out, stopping short of actually touching her elbow at the last moment. "Come."

She went.

They escaped with the perversely jaunty ring of the bell over the door into the thick warmth of the night, and she brayed a laugh again, not quite on the edge of hysterics.

"Go, go, this could get ugly." But he was laughing, too. Madness. He'd seen these exact sort of people outside of a venue, enraged, faces red, carrying hateful picket signs. One small woman and one man frankly built like a noodle could be in real danger. Still, their laughter echoed down the gravel-lined drive they had ducked into, their boots crunching in a staccato rhythm in the stones. This was far too much adrenaline for one night, he thought.

While they slowed to a walk, he watched the fireflies darting upwards in the undergrowth, the ascending dashes of yellow-green light seeming fantastical to him, otherworldly. You heard of great masses of them, in America, but in such quantity it was like seeing a fairytale with your own eyes. They thinned out as the landscape started to shift, from residential suburbs to side streets.

"This was-- good. It was good, to get out. To talk. A lot of this, it is, ehh." He waved a hand in the general direction they were moving, to the venue, the concert, the tour. "Movement. Instinct. There is, by definition, no quiet. And that is fantastic, I enjoy it, I love what I do, I am fortunate in that. But it is not often that I get to speak about these things." The thud of their boots, and the high monotonous drone of a cicada somewhere off in the distance, blending with the faraway hiss of a car on the damp streets. "Thank you," he said, soft. "For this."

Her eyes forward, mouth closed tight. It took her a few steps before she spoke. "You are very welcome." She cleared her throat. "And I appreciate the outside perspective."

"Interesting thing, is it not? Having a vocation."

"Being called. Yes."

"What I do not understand-- and I do not wish to, as you said, litigate the very idea of martyrdom, of course--"

"Of course. That's above my pay grade anyhow."

"But the denial inherent in your practice. The self-denial. It seems to me a, hm. Turning away from joy. You say your God is love, very well. This is removed from my experience with Christians, but I do understand that it should be the intent. To claim that divinity is love and then to willingly cut yourself off from the experience of love seems to me contradictory. Not merely the physical, although that alone seems hideous. Some people of course are not interested, but this cannot be true of all your monsastics, your clergy, your unmarried."

"This is also an old question."

"You cannot tell me it is not vital. Few people are physically martyred, and I can see the value there, even if I think it grotesque. But this seems to me a martyrdom, and willing. And pointless. Everyone should be loved, yes? Is that not your very doctrine?"

"It is, but there's different kinds of love--"

"You are dissembling. Do me the courtesy, Miss Turner, of your honesty."

Copia heard her sharp intake of breath. He had stung her, and he very nearly regretted it.

"Discourtesy wasn't my aim, Cardinal. It's an old question, and people struggle. It's maybe the struggle, for most people, the stumbling block. How can I answer you? It's kind of a personal question, y'know?"

"I can see how it would be. I do not wish to intrude, but come now. What, you offer your suffering up to God? What kind of God would ask you to give up love in the very name of love? It's monstrous!"

"The standard answer is that one becomes the bride of Christ. My thinking is, in turning away from the singular, you're better able to focus on the collective. To focus, to pay attention. And attention in its highest form is prayer."

"You deny yourself. In denial, you turn away knowledge. You said this yourself, how can you understand suffering if you have not suffered? You should know joy, or else how can you understand joy? You should be free to do that, to be in the world, and the world is here! You are here, and while you are here you should be here fully. You should allow yourself to be loved!"

He had actually raised his voice, and his words hung in the thick air, almost suspended with the humidity. He couldn't take it back, and he fell silent, mortified. They had fallen to a stop.

"It's discipline," she said, helpless. She couldn't look at him, and he had to look away at her expression.

"In any case." He cleared his throat, and resumed walking. "Discipline I understand. There is discipline in my practice, you know."

"I can see that. Dedication, certainly. Seems like the whole world's against you. The dominant social climate is not accommodating to being that outspoken about, well, anything to do with sincere belief, really, but especially in your case."

"No. And in this situation, it is easy to-- tend to isolate. To stay in one's own community. Safer. Especially in a hostile environment. Anger is easy, you would say."

"Don't I know it. You do have to live in the world. I think you and I both have cause to be angry. Hell, we're probably angry at a lot of the same things. Coming at it from opposite directions, is all."

"The hypocrisy is galling," he agreed. "If I am a monster in the eyes of these people, let me be an honest monster. They feed their children poison and tell them it is virtue, to hate, to fear, I do not--" he cut himself off, blew out a laugh. "We are angry about the same things. The work is the same. We are both called to liberate, yes?"

"Yeah, I would allow that's fairly definitional."

"Here, you take that side, I will take this one, and we will meet in the middle and cast off all oppression," he said, grandly, sweeping out an arm as if he were back on stage. He echoed her smile on pure reflex.

"And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."

"Julian of Norwich. An anchoress." Something in the concept, and in the simultaneous hope and resignation in her face, pierced his heart all the way through. She was remote, and lost to him, a marble statue of a saint. The nature of his ministry was to encourage pleasure, of mind and of body, and he did want to break her out of the cell she'd walled herself off into. Perhaps merely for his own satisfaction, when freedom was the whole of his law. Even her freedom to walk into her own cage. "Not so much to be consoled as to console," he said, halfway to himself, watching her.

"Francis of Assisi. But I think you knew that."

"I did."

"You are something else, aren't you?" She looked at him, pleased and reassessing. He felt seen, almost entire.

It was not an entirely comfortable feeling. "Ah," he said. "Perhaps."

He recognized, now, the alleyway they had walked down, the venue shuttered for the night. The only lights inside were deep in the back, distant. Likely everything had been packed away, or near enough. Likely the ghouls were wondering where he was. And she was small, and faith alone would not protect her.

It was too much for him. "It is very late. And I do not know if-- do you have a place to stay? This is not, I think, your home."

"I don't and it's not." She waved him off. "Was planning on just sleeping in the car. The seats fold down, I got a pillow, it's fine."

"I don't like it."

"Ain't about what you like." She dropped her head. "I apologize, that was rude."

"No, it is only--." He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. "I do have a hotel room."

"No." It seemed reflexive. But he could see the split second flash of her face cracking open with sheer want. Watched her snatch her composure together just as quick, even as the afterimage lingered in his brain like the echo of a lightning strike. "No, I-- I do not think that would be a good idea."

"There is a couch, even. I could take the couch."

"Copia." Oh, and it was costing her. Painful to watch. That wretched self denial. "Please." A brittle little laugh, accent creeping back in as she forced herself to sound brighter. "I seen you bounce around that stage, you gonna need a mattress."

"Nothing you do not wish, Miss Turner. Never that," he said, as gently as he could. A breath of silence strung out in the thick air, the space of a heartbeat. "Anyways." He considered his position, took a breath, and made the leap. "It would be good to-- I would like to continue this argument. You have some time, no? Before you are-- fully committed. Come to Charleston. My guest. In the spirit of, eh, ecumenical dialogue."

That got a smile out of her. "I'll think about it."

"Please. Do."

"I will. I will think about it."

"In that case." He straightened his spine by three degrees, took the smallest step forward, and picked up her hand in both of his. Even though the gloves it made something catch behind his sternum, the stutter of some cog in engineering. He bowed over it as deeply as he ever had on stage, registered the barest breath of the smell of her, leather and nicotine and something like amber, a clean animal scent. It was only an instant, and he straightened with some regret. "I have enjoyed your company, Sophie."

"I--. Yes. Yeah. Me too." She squeezed his hand, once. "Very much. Be well, Cardinal." And then she slipped away.

He watched her carefully measured walk to her car, head held up with the dignity of the condemned. She opened her door and looked back for the space of one brief inhalation. Orpheus, he thought, nonsensically. He stared at her taillights, the red glow like eyes, the dragon's breath curl of exhaust, long after it had faded into the wide restless night.

It was another twenty minutes before one of the ghouls dragged him back inside.

[sovaghoul]

⚠️DISCLAIMER⚠️

This post is meant all in good fun and is not intended to offend anyone's religious or spiritual sensibilities. I'd hope any Ghost fan would realize that, but you never know. I tagged this with "Scooby-Doo Satanism" for that reason. That said, if you DO want to do this in earnest, feel free. Also CW/TW for Catholicism.

So I thought to myself, "Self, Ghost sells Grucifix rosaries. There's also the "Dark Lord’s Prayer" in Ritual. And the "Holy Mother" bridge in Griftwood is kind of like a Hail Mary."

So I researched and embellished upon traditional rosary prayers and came up with this. Based upon the Meliora rosary because that's the one I have.

All prayer/lyrics credit to our Tender Father.

Begin by holding the Grucifix and reciting (or singing, if you prefer) The Depth of Satan's Eyes (Prayer A):

Into the eyes of fire

Into the gaze ablaze

Into the burning light

Of Satan's rays

Into the source of wisdom

Beyond the Bible lies

Into the endless depth

Of Satan's eyes

Next, on the first large bead, recite The Dark Lord’s Prayer (Prayer B):

Our father, who art in Hell

Unhallowed, be Thy name

Cursed be the sons and daughters

Of Thine nemesis who are to blame

Thy kingdom

Come

nemA

On each of the following large beads, recite The Holy Mother (Prayer C, 3x total):

Holy Mother

You washeth the sin from my feet

Holy Mother

You shine like the sun and the moon

And the stars in the sky

The world rests heavy on your shoulders

Holy Mother

You shine like the sun and the moon

And the stars in the sky

In the space before the next large bead, recite Year Zero (Prayer D):

He will tremble the nations

Kingdoms to fall one by one

Victim to fall for temptations

A daughter to fall for a son

The ancient Serpent Deceiver

To masses standing in awe

He will ascend to the heavens

Above the stars of god

Hell Satan, Archangelo

Hell Satan, welcome Year Zero!

Repeat The Dark Lord’s Prayer (B) on the next large bead.

On the space after the bead, recite Per Aspera Ad Inferi (Prayer E):

Oh Satan, devour us all

Hear our desperate call

Per aspera ad inferi (x4)

Continue along the strand widdershins (counter-clockwise), and repeat The Holy Mother (C) on the next 9 large beads (9x total).

Repeat Year Zero (D), Dark Lord’s Prayer (B) and Per Aspera Ad Inferi (E) before, on, and after each single large bead, respectively, as before (3x total).

Repeat Prayers B-E in the same manner until returning to the Bite of Passage (the Y junction leading back to the Grucifix).

Four final prayers, Stand By Him (F), Majesty (G), Con Clavi Con Dio (H), and Satan Prayer (I), end the rosary, again holding the Grucifix:

A moon shone bright above Her trial

As flames ate through Her body defiled

The Witch Hammer struck Her down

On our Sabbath, She's unbound

'Tis the night of the Witch

'Tis the night of the Witch tonight

And the Vengeance is Hers

For as long as She stands by Him

⛧

Old One, Master

All beauty lies within You

Your Infernal Majesty!

⛧

Sathanas, we are One

Out of three, Trinity

Siamo con clavi

Siamo con Dio

Siamo con il nostro Dio scuro

⛧

Believe in one god do we

Satan almighty

The uncreator of heaven and soil

And the unvisable and the visable

And in his Son

Begotten of Father

By whom all things will be unmade

Who for man and his damnation

Incarnated

Rise up from hell

From sitteth on the left hand of his Father

From thense he shall come to judge

Out of one substance

With Satan

Whose kingdom shall haveth no end

nemA

[wylanzahn]

How do you keep from Copy/Pasting existing Cultures into your Worlds?

Basically just as the title says, and I'm sure there's been pleeeeenty of discussion on the topic, but I'm genuinely curious what makes your cultures unique and original (especially when the modern aura of writing is "everything's been done"). Furthermore, is having a copy/paste culture a bad thing? For context, I'm primarily a Game Master (GM) who also on occasion writes as well as works in the TTRPG actualplay space. When you have an audience (whether friends or fans) is it necessarily a bad thing to have familiar locations, themes, and even characters that mimic real life? Can it be easier for an audience to just assume we're in "Ancient Rome" or "Habsburg controlled Austria"?

For me I do like creating totally original locations with their own weird political systems influenced by magic, gods, monsters, and anything else fantastical--BUT sometimes I find a setting is more interesting of just "what if Romans could directly interact with their deities?". For me I just find the idea of almost "alternate history" but in my uniquely fantastical setting interesting. However, I also understand that some people like genuinely different worlds with no trace of the real world left behind.

When creating unique cultures I try to combine elements to create something more unique. For example I'm currently working on the ancient periods of my current homebrew world, and specifically in a portion I haven't particularly worked on before. In Evrosea, a sort of "ancients world" where Greco-Roman culture lives on well into the medieval 15th Century (of course technology has changed and evolved) I find myself studying more ancient histories. I knew from before I fully began working on worldbuilding Erosea that there was some sort of "Roman Empire" which spread its tongue as a sort of lingua franca across the continent of Dulgren (aka why Common exists in my D&D world). Also originating from the region of Evrosea was the sorta monolithic pantheon of "new gods" (aka Catholicism). So I have the ideas of imperialism and religious importance in this region. So the very clear start was Rome itself, but how could I make this Rome unique? Well here's what I found from my research on Ancient Rome:

Many pre-settlers, and even contemporaries of Ancient Rome, in Italy were nomadic grazers and herders.

The Aeneid, which tells one of the many origin stories of Ancient Rome, ties in the ancient Greek tale of the Trojan War, and makes Rome the successors of Troy.

That many of their religious practices were tied up with the Senate (especially after the abolishment of the crown).

Finally, while perhaps never directly ruled by the Etruscans, their neighbors were much more confederate like and were similar in culture rather than being a unified people or kingdom.

Taking the information I found I twisted and jumbled much of this random history and constructed a group of nomads who controlled the fertile valleys of Uvemos (home region of the ancient Carinaens, my replacement for the Romans).

Many of these nomads worshipped similar sounding gods (if not outright the same gods), and most of them lived off the lands of Uvemos. Only a select few of whom ever settled into cities. However, long after the first nomads of Uvemos walked the hilly countryside arrived a band of pirates and raiders, terrors of the ancient world, many knew not their names, but they quickly accrued a nickname, "The Sea People" (see Sea Peoples on Wikipedia for more, TL;DR a bunch of random marauders who attacked or even helped cause the collapse of some Bronze Age Civilizations). One such pirate was said to be the Prince Laogonus, an exile from Apeiros, who was said to be a direct descendant of the God King Ulios himself. Laogonus settled down on the banks of Janian Sea in a small dirt settlement near to the roaming tribes of Uvemos. Many years later the small city of Carina was established as a blossoming trade hub by the many different tribes of Uvemians. Of these tribes was born a Chieftain's daughter, Aurora. Aurora was said to be descended from the god blood of Ulios, and when she prayed to her great grandsire on the eve of battle she was enveloped in holy light-- thus becoming the world's first cleric. Of her legacy were many rituals formed and practices established, and the civitas mille clericorum* was born.

*(civitas mille clericorum) meaning "city of a thousand clerics," named after the heavy religious undertones established by the first cleric Aurora, at least according to legend.

Super cool right?? I combined some other ideas than the ones I established such as the Sea People from the Collapse of the Bronze Age, as well as these kind of Shinto-like-beliefs in the Carinaen religion, which, to me at least, seems the most like what Ancient Roman beliefs would look like to us today (though I didn't really get to talk about in my blurb). I like taking existing pillars of cultures and extending them, now rather than just being a complete Roman rip-off there's more of this nomadic or tribal culture, at least to early Carinaen history, there's more of a nautical legacy (unlike Rome, who didn't establish a truly working navy up until the Punic Wars), and finally the city of Carina is a beacon for holy warriors and classes like Paladins and Clerics (again this is D&D so that's oriented towards that).

But tell me what you think, and how best do you come up with your fictional cultures/countries? Do you merely copy off of pre-existing cultures or do you fully work from the ground up? I'm super curious to hear what you all have to say!

I'm also tagging a couple friends since I'm curious of your responses @hessdalen-globe, @northernthiefcranberry, @kerghoulen, and the ever wonderful @somethingclevermahogony.

Also guys I need you to pull me out, I'm this close to dropping out of the arts and trying to get into Harvard to do Ancient Studies. Send Help.

[naberiustern]

Welcome to Easter everyone! The holiday where at least one locked tomb fan forgets about catholicism, sees some post about tomb opening/leaving the tomb/etc, and confused it for the space lesbian book for a moment

[casp1an-sea]

I LIKE SHARKS

100 Follower Event

Hi, MY name is Caspian Re (Re pronounced Rey) You can call me either of my first names or alternate! I also go by Cas for short. I also like weird, silly, or comfort character related nicknames and I sometimes go by Armie online

I primarily post about Twisted Wonderland, Star Wars, Marvel, and 2000s kids shows like Octonauts

Age: 18

Birthday: 10/13 

Gender: it fluctuates between trans masc and trans Male, so I typically just shorten it to trans (pls only masc terms) 

Pronouns: He/Him, Ey/Em/Eir/Eirs/Emself on most days I have no preference but if it’s a day I do I’ll let you know

Sexuality: ✨I’m Gay✨(For now)

Zodiac: Libra Star, Pieces Moon, Aquarius Rising 

Personality type: ENFJ

If you send me an ask or msg pls feel free to mention your pronouns 

WE SUPPORT PALESTINE HERE 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

Hotlines to call Incase of emergency

Master List:

I have a dating sim rp blog that is kinda popular :P

Pls check out my OCs, as well as my AUs, and my fics located in my writing post :)

—————————————————————————

commissions: Closed

requests: open!

EVENTS: KYLUX WRITING AND ART EVENT (Ongoing), May 4th Event, Twst OC Colab Event , 100 follower event

(I’ll do short writings, picrews, and possibly art if I’m in the mood. I’ll totally do my doodle style of you or a character.)

Fandoms, Writing, Moots and Tags, OCs, Comfort Characters, Just a list of Monsters I associate with myself, Moot Trail Mix Recipe, ART, Gender Envy >:(

Side blogs: @hux-and-gay (mostly Kylux, 18+), @ramblingsofamadblob (OC and world building posts to complex for my main)

rp accounts: @robinbanks-accidentally (TWST), @spring-chicken (OC), @brooklynscamp (Newsies), @hollowsdill-manor (Vampire/Werewolf dating sim), @angry-space-ginger (Hux), @rouge-space-dad (Han), @thisiswerethefunbegins (Star Wars OCs)

@thenewhestia (my mc to rp with @kal0psiapanesthesia)

—————————————————————————

Likes: Star Wars, Marvel, Twisted Wonderland, the Life Series SMP, RPs, Random Generators (its an addiction), 2000s Kids shows, Doll customization, folklore, cats, singing, art, musicals, being in musicals, and weird sea creatures especially sharks :)

Dislikes: Sweets, Rey (if you are a Star Wars fan and you like her respectfully pls do not talk to me about her you will get your feeling hurt), Religious Topics (pls do not talk to me about Christianity or Catholicism it makes me uncomfortable), gruesome animal facts they are triggering please keep them to yourself, Mean people that disrespect me or my friends, Racists, Homophobes, Transphobes, Ablests, Sexists, etc. 

Fun Facts: 

I am Left Handed 

I am Hungarian and I love talking about my culture or my grandfather’s story if you want to ask

Romantically I am single but I do have a platonic partner, hi XEN 🫶🫶🫶🫶

I’m a Hufflepuff my Petronas is a field mouse and my wand is Willow wood with a Phoenix core

My favorite color is green 

My favorite food is Pineapple Teriyaki Burgers or Chinese food  

I am going to be a film major in the fall

I have two cats named Lilo and Stitch (both girls), and I also have multiple fish. My snail passed away :(

I REALLY WANT CRESTED GECKOS!

I was in my schools broadcasting class

I’ve performed in Willy Wonka, Newsies,  Little Mermaid, Bye Bye Birdie, Christmas Carol, and Shrek, and played the roles of James (James and the giant peach cameo), Arista (Ariel’s sister), Young Fiona, and the bird that sings in that one song in Shrek . I’ve also had solos in Try Everything, American Tears, Fields of Gold, an Mo Town Medley 

I Did competitive gymnastics for 13 years starting when I was 3, before I retired I was in XL level gold. 

I played Violin in elementary school and during Covid in freshman year I played chimes cause that was the choir alternative 

I watch lots of weird 1990s to early 2000s sci-fi shows typically from Australia, there’s suprisingly a lot of them 

I play Minecraft but I am bad at it lol

I play DND 

Where else to find me?

YouTube: @antosaurusrex3752

Pinterest:

Star Wars Force Alignment Quiz:

TWST OC CHALLENGE

My Change.Org petitions:

[bookwyrminspiration]

TLT's Religion + Trauma Survey Results!

About a month ago, I shared a survey regarding the impact of TLT's religion on fans and specifically fans with self-identified religious trauma. This was part of a larger group project for a class, but a handful of people were interested in knowing the results, so here they are!

Before we start: this was a very informal project and necessarily limited. Response options were limited, it didn't inquire into demographic information, data was analyzed manually, and Christianity was the focus/frequently presumed given its global prevalence and relation to the story. Several avenues of analysis weren't pursued given time and project constraints, so please keep all this in mind

The survey was open for about a week and received 965 responses

First, respondents were asked on a scale of 1-4 "Does The Locked Tomb's use or depiction of religion impact your reading experience?" From the entire pool, 83.6% rated it as at least slightly impactful (further broken down in the graph), and 97.4% indicated this was a positive impact.

In open response, respondents listed some reasons why, ranging from: "“it's just a part of the story” to “I enjoy the examination of the ways religion can shape someone's world view, or be used to manipulate and control” and "Religion is my autistic special interest and I love fictional religions!"

Respondents were then asked "Do you have, in your opinion, religious trauma?" The qualifications of religious trauma were intentionally non-specified and left to respondents discretion.

358 respondents, 37.1%, marked yes

This specific group of 358 were asked if this religious trauma impacted their reading of TLT. 66.1% indicated that it did.

Open response answers elaborated on this, saying: “I think reading it is cathartic for me,” “Space trauma lets me look at my real trauma without me or real people being hurt in it,” and “making religion a part of the narrative and drawing out the themes in a way that can be analyzed and picked apart made my experience with religion something I could look at in a similar way.”

The first question from the survey was then returned to, and the ratings of the 1-4 scale were looked at solely in the group of 358 respondents with self-identified religious trauma.

Of these, 90.3% marked a 2 or higher (compared to 83.6); 15% marked a 2 (compared to 22.1%), 31% marked a 3 (compared to 33%), and 44.3% marked a 4 (compared to 28.6%). Pardon the quick graph, as I made it in about 3 minutes specifically for this

Respondents with religious trauma, on average, rated the series' depiction of religion as more impactful to their reading experience than respondents without.

All respondents were then asked, "Has TLT helped you challenge or reinforce your ideas of and experiences with religion?"

Respondents elaborated that: "it reinforced my ideas of religion because I see religion as a means of controlling people, often abusive, and rooted in the supernatural" or "It challenged me to consider how religion can be both a positive force and a hurtful institution. I knew this to a degree already, having experienced both, but reading about it helped reinforce that nuance."

Respondents were then asked on a scale of 1-5, "Does the original text or the fandom contribute more to challenging or reinforcing ideas of and experiences with religion?" 1 is individual text only, and 5 is fandom only.

The majority of respondents indicated an equal impact from the original text and the fandom, however very few people were impacted only by the fandom (1.4%) compared to the number only impacted by the text (13.8%). This wasn't investigated further.

Finally, respondents were asked what religion they'd been referring to or thinking of when they'd been answering the above questions. The vast majority indicated Christianity or Catholicism, though we did not count exactly how many of each; it was clear it was the majority, and that sufficed for our purposes. A larger, more thorough study would be needed to look at Non-Christian/Catholic respondents' experiences in comparison.

The conclusion of all of this was that, as predicted, fans of TLT with self-identified religious trauma were more impacted by the series' use and depiction of religion. This was via catharsis, sympathy, identifying with the characters, and more.

The study demonstrates a function of speculative fiction that allows readers to engage with and process difficult topics (such as religious trauma) though a protected, distanced lens where no one real is hurt. This can be taken beyond TLT and to the genre as a whole, which is often dismissed as less literary or worthy of study than its classical counterparts, an opinion the surveyors argue against.

If you've made it to the end here, thank you again for all the responses and help! I hope you've enjoyed the results, and if there are any further questions feel free to ask and I'll do my best to answer them. Upfront, yes there were 2 other components to the project (looking at queer demographics for the fandom and analyzing common themes in fanart and fic); those were my groupmates' sections, so I haven't shared them, but if you're curious I can always ask them if they'd be open to sharing :)

[tiny-sassy-aggressive]

After watching We’re All Doomed, the comedy show by Daniel Howell, I need to take moment to write out how that show made me take a step back in my own life and evaluate progress and positive growth in my life as I realized that his timelines/feelings could be foiled in a meaningful way to my life. I was particularly inspired to write this while watching the scenes on the screen of the moments of joy people were experiencing. I swear I had chills and I started to tear up. As he spoke about not only embracing the void, but finding the courage to exist, but not just exist, but to live and find those moments of joy, I was reminded about how that moment in searching for why life was worth living was how I came (back) to Catholicism. I don’t intend this post to encourage others to or away from the Church. I simply was inspired by Dan to share how I got to a place of accepting that life is worth living and how I hope to move forward.

I want to first tw cancer, death, feelings of not wanting to exist, and mentions of suicide. Nothing is explicitly discussed in great detail but only mentioned. I have never written out my story before, barely talk about it even to this day. Tried therapy a few times but it wasn’t for me, but that’s neither here nor there. This is a safe space for me to share something I just wouldn’t with family and friends. Though, I must apologize in advance, like Dan, I talk/write way too much so this will be a very long post.

Thank you to all those who take the time to read my random story and I hope to hear from others how Dan’s story and/or show have affected you so we can share in those feelings as a community.

I am chronically depressed and anxious. Always have been as it runs in the family. However, the problem was my parents, or really, I should just say my mom because my dad was never around in an emotional capacity that mattered, didn’t necessarily believe in mental health. Sure they knew depression and anxiety were real, but those were just emotions people felt and there wasn’t anything to do but continue on and try your best to keep going no matter what. It’ll be fine, just keep moving and working, right? Well when I was 12/13 I was getting bullied really badly. It got to the point where I was having panic attacks before going to school, crying at night, constantly feeling nauseous, and worst of all, I would refuse to leave my moms side, so school got to be pretty difficult. My mom was fully aware of what was going on so she went in immediately and got the bullying handled (as much as she could, middle schoolers are brutal. It never really went away but it was less of a nuisance) but she did not understand why I still felt ill and didn’t want to leave her side. She found me a therapist and I went twice. I knew we had financial struggles and I started to feel better so I stopped going. I was still sad and scared but those were normal feelings, right? I could go to school and play my flute, talk to friends, and sure I was writing songs about being trapped in a cage and having no one hear my screams but I was just an edgy teen, I wasn’t depressed. That’s just me being me. No mental illness here! I’m fine. Spoiler alert- I was not fine and it was only going to get worse.

When I was 14 I found Dan and Phil! I was a huge o2l fan so I followed Connor Franta and he posted Internet Trivia with Dan and Phil and I absolutely fell in love with them and fell down the rabbit hole of their channels and the gaming channel. I loved them both but I definitely had a bias towards Dan because he wore all black and was edgy. Watching Existential Crisis for the first time gave me a phrase to the weird feelings I had. Both affirmed and disproved the fact I was mentally ill but I still didn’t have the words for it so I just thought I was mentally different from other people. Watching that video back with all the context of 2024 and 2024 Dan, that video covered an extraordinarily heavy topic but he never mentioned the word depression or mentally ill because, at that point, why would he? Since he was the only person who voiced those feelings that I also shared, I took them to heart, but I could only take those words to heart as I had no reference to infer what else all that meant. So I kept all my feelings to myself. After all, this guy said he had all these big feelings but was fine. Call me naïve, I was 14, so I believed I could be okay and still feel existential. It was normalized, plus nothing else in my life was being affected, I was doing well in school, I had friends, I had hobbies, I was fine. How could I complain?

A few months after the start my freshmen year of high school, my older brother was diagnosed with leukemia and everything changed. He was sick and had to stay in the hospital for months, one of my parents would always be at the hospital, and me and my little brother would visit on the weekends when we could. My mom really stressed the importance of keeping a normal schedule so we did. School, extracurriculars, piano, just keep moving and everything will be alright. I didn’t cry, I couldn’t cry. I had to remain okay, fine, an unbreakable force because I couldn’t have anyone worrying about me because we all had to worry about my brother. Which we did! I never wanted to be a burden or not okay because I wanted all attention and time focused on his wellbeing. I don’t remember talking to anyone about anything emotional. Sure as hell not my parents. Not my brothers. Not even my friends. So I watched videos and removed myself and all emotions from my being so I didn’t have to think or be.

When he was first diagnosed I felt lost and confused. So I did the one thing my private, catholic school taught me to do. I found God and prayed. Except, I can say certainly looking back, it was not a meaningful relationship I created. It was one forged in fear, confusion, and a misunderstanding of how to pray. Ironically, for a catholic school, they didn’t know how to teach someone to come to God, they just expected you to understand, but that’s beside the point and a different conversation. But that’s what I did! I prayed, every morning and night, Lord, Please heal my brother. Please. Tried devotionals I didn’t get, muttered words I didnt understand, and played the part. I watched everyone else around me do it so I did it too, to the point where I believed I needed to be perfect or else my prayers would fail, which, I cannot express enough, was not the appropriate mentality, but that’s what I thought was necessary.

About 7 months later, my brother was in remission and he came home! He was okay! We got through the summer, he came back to school, we were in band and choir together again. It was fun!! We were all okay again. The dark spots in my head were still there but they were probably just left over from how scary last year was. How could I not be happy with my brother back home and alright again. At this point, my prayers were answered so I slowed down my prayers. I was okay so I felt as if I did not need my relationship with God as intensely anymore because I felt fine. Plus, when I was sad or scared those were just normal reactions that were not taking over my life so why dwell on them.

In 2017, Dan released Daniel and Depression. And I don’t exactly remember my reaction. But at that point in my life, I remember coming around to the idea that maybe I was not as mentally sound as I thought. But even listening to what he had to say, I was still convinced I was not depressed, I was just traumatized from what had happened to my brother and to my family. I had spent that time living through hell and I never stopped, I did not lay in bed wallowing, I didn’t not brush my teeth or not take care of myself. I was a high functioning nearly straight a student through and through. I was not depressed.

I don’t know why that was such a dirty word for me. Or maybe it wasn’t a dirty word, but it was something I didn’t want associated with myself. My school didn’t believe in mental health because all you had to do was pray and “you can’t be depressed and be with God” - Which by the way is completely inaccurate and harmful for young people to grow up learning. On the other hand, my parents lived in a hospital with my sick brother for months, I shouldn’t be depressed or talk about the weird sadness I was experiencing after everything they went through. It’d be selfish of me to not be alright.

Two months after Dan posted his depression video, my brother got sick again, the cancer came back. I prayed fervently once again. Knowing it worked once it could work again. Every morning and every night in the depths of my dark room where no one could see or hear because everyone else in my family was not religious or was too angry at God to believe. I put it on myself to pray and to be good so he can be healed again. But I failed. He died 4 months later on my 17th birthday. Years later, a therapist would tell me that happened because he didn’t want me to forget about him, well jokes on the therapist I was never going to forget anyway. I failed, it was my fault he died. If I prayed more, if I was a better person, if I just focused I could have saved him. But I wasn’t enough, I was not good enough to save him. This wasn’t true, of course, nor how religion/prayer works. But I didn’t know what else to do or think. So I blamed myself. I wasn’t even there when he died. My parents told my little brother and I that he wasn’t ever coming home and a few days later, on my birthday, we went to school and when my dad picked us up from school he drove us home and my mom was sitting there and that’s when I knew. My little brother was so cute, he later admitted he just thought my mom had come home to see me for my birthday but I knew immediately. I still don’t know how my dad just picked us up that day and didn’t say anything.

A part of me died that day. How could it not have? It was a strange night. We cried. I ate a pre-bought cupcake. My brother went to lacrosse practice and the next day we both went to school. Because that’s just what we did. We just kept going. Let me tell you, you’ll get the strangest looks from people when they see you at school after they just heard over the loud speaker that your brother had died the previous day. Because really, what were we doing there? We were the highest functioning traumatized students you had ever seen. I was only 2 minutes late to my first class of the day, math. I went to the chapel in the school with my really close friend to cry and listen to adoration music and just wonder why, why, why? 2 minutes wasn’t too bad, the teacher was surprised to see me and I failed the math quiz we had. She was nice, she offered to not have me take it, but I was already there and it was math quiz time so I took the quiz. She let me redo it too. She was nice, I needed it. It felt normal so I felt fine.

And that was all the rest of the 2018 school year was. Fine. Went to class, studied, did my extracurriculars, performed in all the shows, hell, I even went to prom with said super close friend from earlier. It was obvious I was traumatized and sad but how could I not be? But I was doing everything a normal student would be doing so what was the problem?

The problem was I felt alone, hell, I was alone. My family was broken, shattered into a million a pieces. My dad was distant, my mom cried, my bothers and I weren’t talking in any meaningful way. I talked to one person, the guy who held me in the chapel the day after my brother died and who took me to prom. I loved him, we loved each other. He was the only person who I felt actually saw me. I always had some barriers up but I felt free with him and I know he just wanted me to be okay even in the midst of tragedy. We were friendly for 2 years but we got close right before my brother was diagnosed again. Those months meant so much to me and I thought we would always be close. But 1 month after my brother died. He told me he did not want to continue our relationship or friendship. He said I was too much to handle or had too much going on. In all honesty, I don’t remember his exact words because I most definitely mentally blacked out. And he broke what little part of me was left.

(About 2 1/2 years later he ended up calling me and after not really speaking to him at all since that moment, I picked up, more out of curiosity then trying to rekindle anything. He told me that, unbeknownst to me back in 2018, he went to our Moral Theology teacher (yes- private catholic school) to ask for advice because he saw how much pain I was in and he did not know how to help me. Instead of this teacher, a literal adult, going to our schools counselor, my mother, or even me and addressing this 17 year old boys concerns about ME, he told him that he should just give me space because of the mental weight of the tragedy I was living through. His advice to this boy was to essentially isolate me. Looking back, I do feel bad for this boy. He tried so hard to do the right thing for me but didn’t have the right directions. And on the other hand I am so mad at the teacher because that was the worst advice he could have ever given ever. Thanks! Real talk though, I loved that boy and he always meant the world to me. We didn’t keep in touch afterward that 2020 conversation but I kept tabs on him through mutual friends and he always listened to my music on Spotify. He went through a tough time and he committed suicide in 2022. I really do miss him and wish things were different for all aspects of his story, my story, and what might have been our story. It felt wrong to exclude his memory in this post because he truly played such a crucial role and he meant so much to me even years later)

Back to 2018, after he abandoned me. I was completely and utterly alone. And now, I feared opening up at all to anyone because I didn’t want to be perceived as the burden I truly was. So I swallowed every once of trauma, depression, and anxiety so I was perceived as a functioning, fine, human being who didn’t need anyone to worry about her. I didn’t want anyone to worry or care for me because they thought I was fragile or broken because I now had proof that I would become too much to handle and that anyone would just leave me just as he had. And that was it. I smiled, I laughed, I spent the next year completing every senior year milestone and graduated high school. And I didn’t feel one emotion. I was fine.

Summer 2019 was when things started to shift a bit and here’s where I think the foiling begins. For one, Dan had just released Basically, I’m Gay and he started to live his truth being out of the closet. I truly don’t want to nor feel like I can comment anymore on this topic because that was his own personal journey and I don’t want to speculate on anything he said. He did so quite clearly and explicitly. But the point I am making was that in the middle of 2019, he began living his truth. This one thing he didn’t talk about that is so quintessential to his character was now a public part of him and he got to experience that joy of being out. There was a shift in his character, anyone who watched his video could tell, he was happy, he seemed excited. He went to pride, did promotional videos, and he just seemed like he was living in a brighter light. It was beautiful to watch and I’m grateful he let us share in those moments of joy with him.

Before I get too deep into this section, I want to preface and state that I do not remember large chunks of time between 2018-2021. All the trauma and depression have made me forget nearly everything, and it’s a very weird sensation to have little to no memories of 3/4 years of time. I can recall general feelings and most memories I can see are from a third person pov so I can see what was happening, but I see it happening to me, not me actually experiencing the memory.

For me, summer 2019 meant leaving for college. Now, in hindsight, I made a major error. I was going to the same college my brother had been at before he died. I don’t know what I was thinking or why I thought it was a good idea but the school gave me money so I would have been a fool to take on more student loans than necessary, plus, I knew I wanted to transfer the next year and move half way across the country so I had an end goal in sight, just had to get through the year.

I also started to go to church again. There was a cute little church about a half mile down from my school so it was an easy walk. I don’t consider this change/new addition a mistake, but I do often wonder what was I thinking exactly. I don’t recall my exact process but remember two dueling trains of thought. For one, I still 100% felt weird about religion/God because I blamed myself for my brother dying because I wasn’t praying enough and wasn’t good enough to save him. But on the other hand, I did not feel right to never enter a church again and a part of me wanted to return because it felt like the right thing to do. I spent my entire formative years at a private catholic school. I knew all the prayers, scripture, the saints (I was confirmed taking St. Rose Philippine Duchesne), and my senior year religion class was dedicated to teaching us how to explain/teach the faith to non-believers. And I believed in all of it! I had faith, so how could I not be going to church. Call it guilt, or whatever you want to call it, but I couldn’t turn my back on the church after everything I had learned so I went back. It was the truth I believed in and the truth I wanted to live by. I told myself that eventually I would just feel better, I’d continue to pray to heal and keep going through the motions until it stuck. At this point, I had fully embraced the void I was living in. I accepted that I was depressed, I accepted that I was depressed long before the trauma began so I was battling undiagnosed depression alongside the after effects of the trauma, and I accepted that I am an incredibly anxious person. That was alot for an 18 year old to take in but I finally accepted what my truth was. I admit it and that’s the first step right? I know I am mentally ill so I started some therapy, and I continued going to church and praying because every thing I read and was told said those were the best things I could do to help myself. So things could only get better from here, right?

Not necessarily. The end of 2019 flew by and before we knew it we were in the throes of a global pandemic. Within 3 months in 2020, my parents divorced (finally), my grandmother died from the same cancer that my brother had which was sick was twisted if you ask me, and my mom, little brother, and I moved half way across the country. Oh and I transferred colleges in all that too. Besides every single bad thing we experienced, moving was supposed to be our new start. A new place, new schools, new adventures. No longer living in the state with every bad memory we had or the house we essentially grew up in. It was new and fresh, almost the perfect situation to start a mental health journey in, besides the recent trauma I still don’t think I have processed fully and a global pandemic. I just thought I would be getting better.

I remember the part of We’re All Doomed when Dan mentioned 2019 being so important because he started to live his truth and I felt so similarly. I thought once I accepted what was going on in my head I’d feel better. But then 2019-2021 for both of us seemed to be one of our worse times mentally, which is oddly terrifying because of the emphasis that was present on wanting to feel improved.

Between 2019-2021, I struggled with the concept of existing. I did not understand why I was here and others weren’t, what I was meant to do, and why I was meant to do it. I didn’t want to exist. I simply didn’t have the energy. I couldn’t conjure up emotions, nothing real anyway. I just felt nothing. I never felt suicidal, never did anything to harm myself, never wanted to. I knew and continue to know that I never wanted to die. I really just wanted to feel quiet, numb, not of the earth and those are very scary feelings. I could barely put them into words for when I talked to my therapist but I tried, but all she could tell me was to find distractions for myself. Distract, distract, distract, well that’s all I’ve been doing and I don’t feel better. I listened to music, wrote music, talked to my mom, pray, do my class work, scroll through social media, but what then? When alls said and done, the music is off, the conversation is over, the work done, the phone turned off, I was left with myself and I didn’t even recognize her. My mom said she saw a light in my eyes she hasn’t seen in a while but I had no idea what she was talking about. Whatever was on the outside wasn’t being transferred to the inside because I didn’t even know who was staring back at me in the mirror. I just knew she didn’t want to be here anymore. So what now?

When Dan showed us the calendar with the little emoji emotions over the days of the month, I swear my heart stopped for a moment because it reminded me of what I started doing for myself during that same time period, that very same year he was referring to in the show. I had downloaded this app, Hallow, it’s a catholic prayer app. Scripture, guided prayers, saints stories, the whole nine yards. I liked the little guided prayers. Helped me focus I guess. And every night I’d ask for the same thing. To feel better. To be healed. It also had a little section where you could track your mood for the day so I started doing that everyday. I wasn’t thinking too hard about it I just hit the emoji I felt and moved on. Until I started noticing a pattern of hitting, sad, anxious, worried, or unsure. Soon enough I had months upon months, just days filled with those same emojis. When I actually took a step back, just like Dan did, to stare at how my months were covered in little sad emojis it broke me more than I thought it ever could. Was this all that was left for me? Days that left me feeling dejected and dark? Why wasn’t anything I was doing enough to make me feel better, to make me feel something for my life, for this world around me. Every night pleading the same questions to God, why, why, why? Just begging to be healed.

One day in 2021, I felt hopeless, I was tired, drained, and I truly did not know what to do. I just wanted to feel. So I stopped begging God to fix me and I started talking instead. And I talked and talked about everything and nothing all at once. I told Him about my day and what had happened. I told Him about the little anecdotes, my classes, the walk I went on. I told Him what I felt during the day, the big feelings and the little feelings. As I recounted my day and all the little details, I know it sounds ridiculous, but I felt lighter. For the first time in a long time, I was not focused on the big scary black hole of my mind, the void, I spent time talking about what my day had looked like and what I knew was on my schedule for tomorrow. It grounded me. And it was just that. I wasn’t focused on the void, I was focused on the living I was doing despite the void and there was something beautiful about that realization I have never been able to put into words until I watched Dan’s show. God was not not healing me because I did not deserve it or because I was so helpless, for it was only when I was at my lowest that I let myself let go and speak freely outside the confines of asking for the same thing over and over again without changing my mindset. It was only through those open ended conversations that I found and was confronted with the events of my life, no matter how big or small. The void, my depression, my traumas, whatever I want to call them, they are always going to exist, they are a part of my and I can’t change anything about that. But my life, my 24 hours a day, that time will pass regardless of if I choose to dwell on the darkness or not, so might as well spend my time enjoying the light that clearly exists as well. So that is what I started to do.

It is a choice that I have to make each day when I wake up. To decide to be an active participant in my life rather than a passive bystander. But like all things, it’s an attitude that can be learned, adapted, and over time it did not feel like a chore to make that choice, but a pleasure. For once, I started to look forward to the future and excited for what I could do. I found a church where I could attend mass so I would stop sitting in my room and watching online, I started to push myself to make plans outside my comfort zone and learned to not just like my own company, but enjoy the silence of being alone. The one project I am particularly proud of is my second Instagram account dedicated to romanticizing my life. Everyday, for now nearly 2 1/2 years, I have posted a photo on that account of the places I’ve been, clothes I’ve worn, and experiences I have been on. It’s my own personal photo diary proving that I have been living and that I will be continuing to live.

Photos and daily reflection have been the cornerstone of my improvement which was why that segment of Dan’s show impacted me so greatly. Each small clip he shared was probably only a second or so long but each moment held such great joy and emotions that could not be contained. It was and will continue to be a reminder that there will always be moments of joy and moments of happiness that will exist even in the face of adversity, we just have to work to see them, and choose to accept them as our own. Some days can certainly be harder than others, but after years of feeling nothing but the heavy weight of despair, even just the memories of joy are enough to encourage me to move forward. I’m alive for a reason and I believe and trust in God’s plan for me, so I choose and, now, feel empowered to continue on.

Dan was right when he said that we are all doomed. And there is this void in my life that I have learned to embrace and not just ignore. But this life was not meant to be survived, but to be lived. And I, now, have the courage to choose to live everyday.

Thank you to @danielhowell for sharing a part of yourself with the world. For creating a show that encourages us to acknowledge every part of our lives, the good, the bad, the ugly, and to show the importance of embracing every aspect of our lives while we continue our journey. Thank you for encouraging me to share my story and my journey through mental health. I have never shared my story like this before and it has been an unbelievably cathartic experience and I feel renewed in my promise to continue to choose to live.

Thank you🖤

[blakebow]

For me, what bugs me about the tragedy of Arkos, the darkness of rwby, and Bumbleby over BlackSun is the Self-Righteous Martyr/God-Complex of toxic contingent within these fandoms, to me they seem to ultimately not care the message these stories are trying to convey, but rather enjoy them and flaunt them for their own self-righteous megalomania

With the deaths of Pyrrha, and Penny respectively.

As soon as that happened, many among the fandom would come out and theatrically proclaim the necessity of these tragic deaths, how it is so realistic an shows “thats life”, and brag how ultimately hopeful the stories still are and how it taught them how to be oh-so hopeful despite the odds.

In any these cases, these people act as if they themselves were righteous martyrs, prophets of God,Life,Reality, usually the latter two because they claim "that's life" or "that's reality" all in a tone that reeks of holier-than-thou arrogance and vanity

Same with the Wasps over Bumbleby because “BEST SAPPHIC REPRESENTATION EVAR!!!” and taunting BlackSun fans for being “heteronormative”

They’re like Claude Frollo in a sense

"Of my virtue, I am justly proud..."

Or worse, they speak with ghoulish glee and bragging about it gives them a feeling of power over these fictional characters as if they themselves are God almighty and it bleeds into how they treat real people who didn't like it by passive aggressively or belligerently belittling, judging, shaming, gaslighting, and sneering at them, implying the worse reasons of their distaste, and tell them to go watch a sitcom or slice-of-life anime or something

Then they brag about what story was told with these ideas and concepts to be the end-all-be-all of these concepts in any fantasy/sci-fi epics that have even the slightest tinge of darkness and conflict and Representation and, lock them down into little theories, formulas, dogmas, and rule out everything else as a corruption, heresy, or a worthless little parasite, because they themselves are the infallible, all-knowing, and all-seeing “literary experts” who got everything all figured out and everyone else, wether the majority or minority, as peon reprobates.

Forgive my Catholicism talking, but it reminds me of the Pharisees

“They tie up heavy, cumbersome loads and put them on other people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them.”-Matthew 23:4

These self righteous people seem to only enjoy these stories not because of the message the tragedy and suffering is trying to convey, thats just a shield for them, but rather for their moral superiority and the thrill of power over others and being the measure of all things, for they know how life exactly works for specific individuals in specific genres and they know how to carry it out exactly.

Or with Bumbleby, how they are righteous champions of queer culture against eeeeevilllll heteronormative culture which reeks of resentiment

And that's why I am so irritable about Tragedy in these kinds of stories, it feels like they are no longer enjoyed out of humility, compassion, truth, goodness, and beauty.

But rather out of pride, vanity, power, cruelty, and moral superiority

While Bumbleby over BlackSun and the whole Adam fight enrages me because it feels like some sick power fantasy of LGBTQ+ Revenge against “Heterosexuality” while Sun is supposed to be kind of humble cuck

and sometimes it tempts me want to write my rwby au fanfic and original stuff inspired by it in a way that gives them all the finger rather than for what I saw these ideas and concepts could have been, just so I can give them a taste of their own medicine

I know that's wrong, but these people test my patience, especially when they keep invading other people's spaces, bypass other people's "curations" because "there's nothing subjective about this, I need to correct and educate you", and getting away with this kind of nasty behavior

you totally lost me on all the religious stuff, i don't subscribe to that by-weekly at all, fam.

on that note though, i do agree for the most part with the idea that the wasps have taken advantage of the canonization of bees to appoint themselves to some kind of sainthood, like they're holier-than-though over the rest of the fandom. and frankly, i can't stand those insufferable type of people.

they over project themselves onto terrible ships and even though people tell them how toxic and dysfunctional it is, it goes in one ear and out the other. they don't listen. they live in a detached bubble in a separate reality.

sad to say, that's not the first time that i've encountered fans like this in a fandom. some people really should be on a no fly list because they're clearly mentally unstable and a danger to others, but i don't get to make that call, unfortunately...

i want someone from crwby to come out and tell them that bees was never planned, because i think it would utterly shatter their delusional reality if they felt so betrayed by the hand that fed them. they should be soundly slapped several dozen times until they lose all coherrence.

[bread--quest]

declaring the sixth house honorary space jews. i know everyone in this book is like doomed to christianity (one of the many fucked up things about this universe) but i know in my heart they would have LOVED torah study

[lucabyte]

HOWDY! *slams pile of papers on the desk* i have Inquiries. OKAY SO-

1.) i know the bridge between infurno and purrgatorio is Ali realizing they cant leave, so like, whats pawradisio???

2.) wtf happens ta Ali durin the 'age ???' section of their design timeline. what type cult stuff do they get involved w and how. its haunting me i needa know

3.) whats with the 3 year memory erasing thing in that one ali purrgatorio relationship chart. Really funny chart ive shared it w a few friends but also im staring intently at it like Huh What O_O

4.) what is mymk's final form? is it gonna be written, a comic, etc?

5.) got any music you associate w any mymk characters/ali? besides like, in canon reasons like Chrome more like any songs/artists/lyrics that remind u of anya em :0??

anyway yeah huge fan! also hope ur vacation's fun!

Hehe hi :)

1. We shall get there when we get there <3 my lips are sealed. Though I will say, there are further books by Dante one can animal-pun the titles of... Though they aren't part of the divine comedy..... (Alludes vaguely to plans that will inevitably take me years)

2. Okay so spoilers for Creature Feature, Ali's home setting (and @samhainian's thing) (because this is all a bit of an open secret) but Ali is, as I've alluded to previously, an Antagonist.

Creature Feature is a real world adjacent setting, set in our modern day, only with all manner of monsters and cryptids living secretly alongside humans. Ali lives in Wraithbrook, a hidden town populated primarily by monsters (albeit, most everyone still upholds a disguise, just in case). Being a (very) small town with an effectively captive population.... The post-high-school ennui tends to set in bad for people. Hope you enjoy the family businesses, kids.

So... This leaves the listless vulnerable. And boy is Ali a bit malleable. A trusted figure in their life takes advantage of this, part of an accellerationist group looking to break these confines, having singled them out as candidate for their most recent attempt to mold a magic user into a weapon to shatter the veil. And, well, if you've got a self-hating isolated guy who is predisposed to a bit of Catholicism already... Why not utilise the concept of the antichrist? They will be bringing a world together, in a way... And when you've been around as long as some immortal librarians have, doing a little bit of time dilation in the later stages of indoctrination isn't thaaaaat hard... Sooooo....

(But don't worry. They get better. Eventually. At least they look it. Everything is A-OK!!!)

(as for if purrgatorio is canon to this timeline....? Yes! But in a fucked up way! Can't make it too easy for the little guy....)

3. Okay so I was coy literally a sentence ago but yeah purrgatorio is set dead on like.. at the exact same time MYMK proper *should* start. Thus, it cannot exist at the same time as the main story... Ali's narrative powers keep them from being subsumed by the universe and just becoming a funny animal themselves.

But should a time come where Ali is *gone*, and the world is similar enough to the moments before they arrived? Well, the narrative can just pretend the time hasn't passed! Just, don't think too hard about your count of how many Halloweens and Christmasses you've had doesn't really line up....

(A normal person would simply name Purrgatorio noncanon, but hey, if Ali's whole thing is that they manipulate reality like a Narrative... Well. May as well use it! So once canon is over for both parties, things can start creeping back in. It's needlessly overcomplicated but I'm having fun)

4. Written with illustrations! An Online picture book, I suppose. I was initially damning myself to a comic, but after playing in the space with Purrgatorio, I realised I prefer prose. I'll probably write the thing in whole and then release it bit by bit as I work on the illustrations? I have a working outline as of right now and it's not a super long story lol. But its likely going to come after some practice with smaller projects like my reworking of Hazeclan and maybe Damonquest (name pending) (the latter featuring a cut main character of mymk lol)

So! ETA: a while. But we stay silly

5. OKAY.... so I can't link character playlists sadly since they don't exist (..... Yet.) and I'll stick primarily to our at present Purrgatorio cast.

I am like. Famously bad with identifying songs (<- usb stick full of songs on shuffle in the car as a kid) but I have been trying to put thought into this recently (my gold standard for this being my friend @teddymedley who's so good with character songs I did ask him for some vibe checks for this even)

So these are messy and some are like, inherited from earlier drafts of the characters so can be a bit off but I'll give a handful and their reasonings. (No links or embeds though I'm on mobile and Tumblr might eat my visibility if I do. I'll reply with some though)

[Ali Alighieri]

1. "Here comes the flood" by the Divine Comedy (self explanatory really, that animatic will exist someday I promise. This is THE big one to me, but @samhainian may have a different top spot opinion lol) Bonus: it has a demo version that also fucks supremely

2. "All the angels (demo)" by MCR. (Ali is not the MCR sibling, they're the P!ATD sibling. But I don't listen to panic lol)

3. "If you could save yourself you'd save us all" by Ween (peak "sorry what was that line just there?" song)

4. "In the meantime" by Spacehog (I like Spacehog. Everyone gets a spacehog song yaaay)

5. "Here comes the sun" cover by Ghost (not their style of music at ALL and you KNOW they're contrarian about the Beatles, but grim irony is such a vibe here)

[Chromium Mono]

1. "Manicure" by Lady Gaga (this is such a flippant "because I said so" choice lol)

2. "Let it grow" by Renaissance (this is such a nice cheesy song. I like to think of this as speaking to the actual nice loving guy chrome can be when he's not being a prickly bitch)

3. Kissing Ancaps by Patricia Taxxon (... GOD this song is way too cool or smart for chrome lol. It's a chrometab song to me because of the big words and cynicism. It's too modern and online for them but I'm attached to it... Also it contains a sample from let it grow)

4. "Run away with me" by Carly Rae Jepsen (more vibes based! Love some ms jepsen. But at least has a coherent theme wrt to eloping lol)

Bonus: oh god I really have to finish the voiceclaim video I was making. Premiere kept melting on me but I should probably let the world know chrome sounds like Donald Glover huh. The marshall lee to live action Simba pipeline.....

Bonus 2: @teddymedley suggested "Ratchet" by Bloc Party, with the phrasing "subject matter younger chrome sound older chrome" which I like!

[Tabitha Boss]

1. "Cable Rat King" by Gem Milsom (this one genuinely feels like a solid choice to me. It's polite and tentative and about depressive spirals, and is from the same album as the Number One Main Labyrinthine song, Pipes. That animatic will exist someday too I promise)

2. "This too shall pass" by OK GO (Preferably the brass band version. I think Tabitha would adore their videos, he'd be delighted by the moving parts and generally light tone. Also, Labyrinthine has a different "this too shall pass", being by Danny Schmidt)

3. "When will you die?" By TMBG (goofy song. But you get it.)

4. "Zeroes" by Spacehog (Spacehog again 👍)

Bonus: Jimmy buffet discography. He is living on island time baby

Bonus 2: @teddymedley assigned "Happy Hour" by Eels and I think the strange upbeat lethargic energy fits

[Lavender Wafeu]

Lavender is really funny because I honest to god don't think she listens to much music. This means I barely associate music with her apparently.

However @teddymedley did suggest "Black Rainbows" from Hawaii: Part 2, and I think that's better than any of my previous notes. Those previous notes being entirely the words "Little shop of horrors". She, Knives and Mafioso do also share an association with "Panda Hero" by Hachi but that's more visual to me?

I have however begun associating some Zelda OST tracks with her though... Hmmm....!

[Markus Felidae]

This poor bastard has shed and gained characterisation recently enough to have shook the MCR out of their system.... I don't have all that much for them.

Now. Hm. I think I'd have to go with some very on the nose musical tracks? My mind immediately goes to the opening track to Disney's Notre Dame, and maybe like, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer from Cats? These are such dreadful picks lol. Sorry buddy, characterisation overhaul syndrome. They probably also would listen to P!ATD same as Ali though so do with that what you will.

Bonus: in Markus' earliest iteration over 10 years ago..hrm. long story short, 121 guns is so fucking unfitting but it's lodged there forever lol

[Lupus Felidae]

Lupus is associated in my head with the kind of dub anime opening best codified by 4kids era Pokémon. Like the ideal song here is that one from Yugioh. "No matter what"? That kind of cheese and boyish power of friendship. "OK!!" From the JP endings of anipoke goes here too it's cute to me.

"I can go the distance" from Disney's Hercules is also up there for the same vibes. She's just silly and having fun!

Bonus: "Don't let's start" by TMBG is a Miao song to me, but in relation to her family. So it's also Lupus and Markus' by association.

[Ess Somil]

The idea of an ess playlist is hysterical to me. I feel like it's a Mother 3 battle theme in that man's head all the time. What's your time signature boy.

Anyway, "Numbers" by Neil Cicierega. Since it is overwhelming enough of a soundscape. Or just "Doctor Worm" by TMBG. For that they live in the soil.

.... And that's probably enough!!! This ask is very long now! Sorry it took a while to answer lmaooo. I've been very busy but it's been nice to chip away at during my downtime! Thank you so much for the questions :)

[mallows-marsh]

About Me/BYF

Hi there! I know not everyone is a fan of or cares enough to read "before you follow" posts, but I feel it's important to have and point at if need be.

For starters: I'm Mallow! I'm 23 and my pronouns are they/she. I've decided to start this blog after staring longingly at everyone else's fandom/original character blogs for a few years now. (Mainly my lovely gf's blog @oyasuminto. She's a peach and you should follow her.) I've sent some anon asks to quite a few blogs over the years, never claimed an emoji for any of them, but mostly just to find out more about their characters. I'm so excited to actually interact with you all personally now!

Before you follow, I just want to make the things that I will be sharing here known. I have and enjoy characters that deal with varying degrees of dark content. Topics that I will be touching upon here include:

noncon, dubcon, yandere themes (stalking, manipulation, gaslighting, coercion, kidnapping, etc.), abuse, blood, gore, religious themes (mostly bastardized Catholicism), cults, drugs

This is NOT an exhaustive list. Just the things that came to mind when I was writing this up. If you need me to add any sort of triggers for you, please do not hesitate to ask!

VERY IMPORTANT!!!

Here is a list of my ABSOLUTE NOS! Please do not send any asks about, privately message me about, or tag me in any posts about these topics: incest (including stepcest), underage, watersports, scat, vore, vomit, bestiality. I'm sure this list will grow.

I would love this place to be a safe space for those who are more morbidly inclined, so please, pretty please, be kind. Be so nice to me. To my friends. To all other creators here. I'm getting over a lot of anxieties that I hold about interacting with people online, but don't hesitate to interact with me! I promise, I'm a friendly lil' guy.

This blog will contain NSFW content, but this does not give you permission to be weird.

I do not condone any of the actions that I or other's I interact with write about.

Do not interact with me if you are under 18, someone who posts about True Crime, RPF, eating disorders, or any of the other usual DNI criteria (homophobia, transphobia, racism, you know the drill).

[thegreatzombieartisan]

Rings of Power + Tolkien Fusion Meta

“Touching Darkness & Other Mormon Influences

Within the context of Sauron x Galadriel, the whole “touching the darkness” motif is very hot. However, it felt somewhat “off” as a main show theme. To be clear, it’s not bad thing in terms of storytelling for viewer experience. I like it. Just hmm 🧐

Here’s why: Tolkien may write a world where goodness can come from unexpected places, beauty can arise from tragedy, and people achieve great things to combat evil. Since his work is Catholic, he’d never create a world where evil things are necessary for life to change, grow, and thrive. In fact, few characters in lore “touch darkness” and return to the Light.

Case in point, Galadriel’s rejection of Sauron’s proposal. Canon demands it. While positioned as an act of empowerment, declaring him irredeemable actually reflects the darkness, the woundedness within her. She need not personally forgive Sauron. A Tolkien-esque redemption arc requires espousing “pity for the Devil”. To him, not even orcs are beyond forgiveness - should it be sought. To challenge this is to challenge Eru Illuvatar Himself (a Christian God).

Presumably, complicated grief diminished Galadriel’s empathy. It’s restoration, perhaps it’s already planned within her arc. RoP show runners claim they’re incorporating Tolkien’s themes, so we should see her pity Sauron, Adar, and orcs as part of her maturity. But I’m skeptical that show runners will as Tolkien would. We’ll see.

*

"Touching darkness" reflects show runner JD Payne's Mormon beliefs

Naturally, a creative’s belief system and biases will influence their work. JD Payne confirms:

The gospel affects you as a person, and that affects everything you do….I feel it’s the same way with being a Mormon screenwriter [source]

In hardcore Mormonism, the Fall of Man had to occur in order for there to be mankind. Mortal life is a test for spirits, the God they believe created us was similarly tested, and so “touching the darkness” is necessary.

Some other notable Mormon-y influences points:

Elves as Mormon Church Elder-like. According to Ex-Mormon/Mormon Haladriels and subredditors: ritualistic disrobing ceremony of the Elf warriors on the ship to Valinor and instrumental music gives strong Mormon temple vibes.

Handcarts of the Harefoots part tells with pioneers are A Thing in Mormonism. Other cart types could’ve been chosen, just an observation.

White robes of the three (likely) Maiar sorceresses who appear to be members of Sauron’s RoP version of Melkorism

All the singing. Mormon founder Joseph Smith said the “the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me”. Thus, singing when Galadriel sails toward Valinor. Nori’s wandering song seemed akin to Tolkien’s wandering song. Disa singing is not a lore dwarf ritual but valid creativity in blank spaces.

@pursuitseternal Thoughts on this?

I’m acceptably versed in Catholicism (not a theologian) —not Mormonism. If you are a Mormon TRoP fan, feel free to weigh in the comment or DM

Thank you for reading! Your likes and reblogs are appreciated. Got feedback?

What did you like? Got theories or insights to share?

Disagree? I love good faith debate and sparring!

Need clarity on points? Got feedback on readability?

Spot an inaccuracy? Hey, Tolkien's work is complex. Drop it in comments or DM.

[ewingstan]

top 5 favourite characters in any piece of media ever?

Oh Christ*. I doubt I could do real justice to this, but lets see if I can at least list in no particular order some of the characters I most like that have at least an orthogonal connection to this blog.

Rachel Lindt: Look, getting through the early parts of Worm were rough for me. Everything seemed a bit too exaggerated and ham-fisted, WB hadn't really learned how to do prose, and the only thing keeping me going was remembering that my cousin recommended it a while back and that that some out-of-context posts I'd seen from blastweave made it sound like it had some interesting ideas. But one of the early inexplicable hooks the story got into me was introducing this character who'd seem from a distance like another stock bully character, and almost immediately making me think "wait, I wanna see what he does with her. There's something there." And then there was! There's just something so satisfying about all her interactions with Taylor throughout the whole story; to the extent that I basically divide the story by the different periods of their relationship. She's everything.

Also, my posting about her was some of my first interactions with wormblr. Which is also the first fandom I think I could say I'm actually a part of? Like, there's plenty of things I'm a pretty huge fan of, I even have another fandom sideblog I started before this, but Worm got me actually posting instead of just passively reblogging for pretty much the first time. And Rachel got me there! So I have her to thank for answering this question at all in the first place.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus: The first character I liked in a blorbo kind of way, if that makes sense. Like, there's plenty of characters who I love, or who make the stories I love shine, or who I always had a fun time thinking about. But Harrow as a character just cracks open my brain in a way nothing else does. The Necromancy. The goth space Catholicism. The theatricality. The general horribleness. The specific combination of overwhelming presence and sad shitsack vibes. The specific combination of genius and ingenuity coupled with the crushing stubbornness and lack of creativity. Its not even like a key sliding into the lock in my heart, its like a lockpick that's clicking through all the tumblers in my heart-lock and revealing it for the flimsily-built masterlock-ass shit it is. I never used to get people who talked about how a character inspired them to pick up a hobby or take up an interest in something. But I ended up reading Lolita because of how much I loved Harrow! I started getting into Nabokov as a whole and finding one of my favorite writers because of Harrow! Nothing else does that to me! Which itself leads to...

Rose Lalonde: Did Harrow have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Harrow at all had Muir not loved, one summer, a certain initial witch-teen. In a comic by Hussie. Oh when? About as many years before GtN was written as my my age was that year. You can always count on my favorite characters for a fancy prose style.

No but Rose's verbose prose style really did cement her as one of my favorite characters. Like Bitch, she's a character that got me into an overly-long work I wasn't sure I wanted to tackle. I had attempted to start Homestuck a few times before I actually got into it, and the early computer-game jokes and user-submitted prompts weren't really engaging me. I did not see myself enjoying reading about John futzing around in his room for a few thousand pages. But man oh man, when the narrative switched focus to the literally purple-prosed kid obsessed with Lovecraft, I was ready for whatever the story wanted to do. I related to her and idolized her instantly. When I reread Homestuck much later, I related to her for much less complementary reasons. I have a particular (read: grating as hell) speaking style that's a result of being a kid who both thought of himself as smarter than everyone and was completely unsocial to the point of barely being able to have a conversation. I sound like an analytic philosophy paper written by an undergrad who's not invested in the topic or the course but who really wants to sound like he knows what he's talking about. The unique and specific character voices in Homestuck are the best part of the work for me, and when I first read Rose, I was basically reading who I wanted to be. And reading her later and realizing all the ways she's just a dumb kid makes me think of all the ways I was just a dumb kid, and how I'm trying to get to a place where I can converse with someone and feel comfortable without being condescending.

Look, there's a reason that despite Dave and Karkat having all my favorite moments in the work, I ended up owning two pairs of Rose t-shirts. And its the same reason I have a Ninth House outfit.

Kaladin Stormblessed: What if there was a story about trauma giving you superpowers fueled by bonding to an alien intelligence, but instead of the bonded spirit driving you towards self-destructive behavior it tried to make you into the best version of yourself? I've already talked a bit about how the Stormlight Archives has a surprising number of similarities to Worm, and reading it when I was a young teen probably contributed to developing the sensibilities that made Worm click for me. Plus, the cosmere was my first real multi-property media I got into, so it probably preempted me getting into comics as well (which this blog is also theoretically about). Speaking of—

Roberto da Costa: Feel weird about this, because I'm not even very familiar with the original Claremont stories he originated from. But the Al Ewing stories I read with him were some of the first Marvel comics I read at all (USAvengers was a weird-place to start that journey, tell ya hwat), and he set the tone for what modern big-two comics could do well perfectly. There's a lot of obvious problems with the eccentric billionaire hero archetype, but he's the best of that type of character. And while Ewing has written much better comics than the New Avengers/USAvengers runs he first used Roberto in, those stories were the ones that got me interested in Ewing in the first place. And I initially made this blog as a comics subblog devoted to his work! So again, this blog wouldn't really exist without Sunspot.

Special mention to: The March Hare+Doormouse. Putting them together because my parents met while playing them in their college theater program. Owing my existence to these characters means they probably deserve at least a mention. Also Jessie Pinkman and Sylvester Lambsbridge and Clint Barton and Saint Perpetua and Celestina the Witch and Smurov from Nabokov's "The Eye" and Quentin Brooks from Eidolon Playtest and the fictionalized version of Al Swearengen from Deadwood and Sister Carpenter from "The Silt Verses" and—

*No, I'm not putting him on the list.