#my weird religious knowledge

[mars-ipan]

Matthew 7:15

(my commissions are open!)

[basalting]

instead of having that dumb plack around Jason's suit, he lights a candle next to a family photo. Maybe his kids leave little things next to it too and it becomes like a little alter for Jason. Bruce isn't religious, but he always feels better when he lights a candle for Jason and sort of prays to his dead son. It's really the only time he allows himself to talk to Jason without fully drowning in grief. Dick does it sometimes too, but not as much as he wants since he lives in Bludhaven. Tim more so. Tim's always lighting a candle and talking Jason about anything and everything. Jason reaction to it when he comes back is certainly something. Jason thinks back what he thought where dreams of hearing other people's voices(really was his family)

i have so many feelings about the plaque.... because jason didnt want to be treated like a child, and bruce was raised by a man who knew how to train a soldier but not how to care for a son, and jason was more than just a boy, and jason was a solider - fighting to protect the people of gotham

did bruce put the uniform and plaque up? did he need a reminder of what he'd lost? did it hurt too much to think of jason as his son? did he need the distance, to only think of a lost robin and not a lost jason?

or did alfred put it up, the uniform and plaque a worthy memorial. as fitting as any war shrine he'd seen friends names carved on. the only way he could mourn coated in the ridged protocol of a fallen soldier...

[defiant-firefly]

(I've had my chatty medicines so you get a post about this)

There is something distinctly and uniquely alienating and bizarre about hearing people say 'Easter Sunday is the most religious day of the year'. Like, when was this?? If it's so religious and so so so important, how come no one thought to tell me it was religious until like four or five years ago?

Yeah it's kinda funny but I'm also sat there every time like "what the fuck are you talking about". The assumption I was raised Christian and am Christian via culture is really funny though cause like. Bro I have no fucking clue what any of this stuff is about.

My parents never taught me the majority of this shit. Anyone else assumed I already knew about it. This Easter talk I've been hearing about a weird amount more than normal is all new to me and making me think of all this shit lmao

[vintagegeekculture]

I remember a friend of mine had some LPs that were Star Wars themed disco albums, and it brought back a very weird memory from back in the 70s (yes, I'm old!) of listening to a Star Wars disco mashup on the radio. What was all that about? I also remember something like that for Close Encounters, too.

You remember correctly, and this went on for a long while. In 1983, disk jockeys around the country played a record that involved an Ewok rapping the plot of Return of the Jedi in Ewokese. This made it to #60 in the Billboard Top 100.

This is hard to explain to people who weren’t there….but in the wake of Star Wars in the late 70s and early 80s, scifi was so beloved and mainstream that the orchestral music for nerdy scifi and fantasy movies about outer space were remixed and sampled into Giorgio Moroder-esque Italo-Disco dance numbers. And the most astonishing thing is, instead of being consigned to convention acts the way “horse famous” Brony dubstep acts are, this received national airplay on the radio, reached the pop music charts, and were played in discotheques. And incredibly, this continued for years and expanded from Star Wars into Star Trek, Wizard of Oz, Black Hole, Close Encounters….

All of this was the work of one specific person: Meco (or Dominico Monardo). The term “ahead of their time” is thrown around a lot, but Meco really was: a combination producer-songwriter and Italo-Disco pioneer in the style of Giorgio Moroder, he did several things that are now absolutely standard: he used remixes and sampling before hiphop made that standard for musicians, he wrote “fandom music” on a Moog synthesizer decades before Bronies turned their conventions into cringey dubstep concerts with songs like “Everypony Dance Now.”

It's stunning to me that Meco has not been rediscovered, considering every single trend in the culture essentially went his way.

The most startling thing about Meco’s Star Wars disco album, the one that got the ball rolling on this trend, is this: I always assumed it was some kind of cash in created by a record label mandate, a label executive’s completely cynical choice to hop on a hot new trend. That isn’t a crazy thing to think at all, since Star Wars is and always has been the most merchandized and sold out scifi property ever. But it wasn’t! You see, it was all the product of a single man’s specific vision: Meco had to convince his record label to make the record because they were skeptical.

When Meco went to see Star Wars in 1977 on Opening Day (what an experience that must have been) with his friend and fellow Italian chest hair/gold medallion enthusiast Tony Bongiovi, he was already an experienced producer-songwriter who had worked with Gloria Gaynor, Diana Ross, and formed DCA, the Disco Corporation of America. If you've ever listened to Diana Ross's "I'm Coming Out," Meco actually played the trombone solo in that song. Seeing the Star Wars movie for the first time, though Meco thought the movie was nothing short of a religious experience. Originally, he wanted to do Star Wars music as a b-side on a Gloria Gaynor album, but expanded the idea into an entire album.

In Meco’s own words:

"When I think about what I did, nobody came to me, nobody said 'Meco, why don't you do this.' Nobody says 'Here's some money go make a record of this movie.' It was just my own... It was magical, it was just out of this world when all that happened."

Not only did this album hit platinum, not only did it actually outsell the Star Wars soundtrack, his remix of the Star Wars theme also went to #1 in the charts. It’s actually the best selling instrumental single of all time. A record, that, incidentally, it holds to this day.

Dick Clark, host of American Bandstand, had this to say about Meco:

"In 1977, Meco Monardo accomplished something no one else has ever done to the best of my knowledge. He was the first one in history to out-sell the soundtrack of a motion picture with his own distinctive version of a film's music. The music was totally danceable, and broke new ground. It's no wonder the STAR WARS THEME went to # 1. I loved his treatment of music from THE WIZARD OF OZ. Again, Meco created something innovative. The fun and the excitement gave a whole new feel to that totally familiar and well-loved music."

Like a lot of studio producers, Meco had an insane work ethic and hit when the iron was hot: he did an album about Close Encounters that exact same year, but also did a Star Wars Christmas Album, one of the strangest pieces of Star Wars kitsch around.

One of the most interesting things about the Star Wars Christmas album is that one of the songs, “R2D2’s Wish You a Merry Christmas” is the first professional vocals by John Bon Jovi, who was Meco’s friend Tony Bongiovi’s seventeen year old younger cousin (he was initially known as John Bongiovi). It's incredible to hear a squeaky voiced teen Bon Jovi on a kitsch album about a robot Christmas.

1978-1979 was really his best year. Meco made an Italo-Disco remix album entirely devoted to Superman, and at this point, Meco had the pull to get access to John Williams's sheet music for the score before the music even came out. In my personal opinion it's the best of them because he has to recreate it entirely with his own instruments, leading to a very unique sound.

He also did an album based on the Wizard of Oz:

And a combination album of Star Trek/Black Hole. It's probably the earliest remixing date of Goldsmith pieces of music: the Motion Picture Theme (which is now associated with the Next Generation - hearing it done in Italodisco is uncanny) and the Klingon Theme:

Incidentally, I think the design here of the Meco Enterprise, which had to be modified for legal reasons, would make a wonderful canon starship if anyone wants to be inspired by it. It reminds me of the same concept that would be used in the very next film for the Reliant-class of ships.

Meco eventually retired from music in 1985, but unfortunately he is no longer with us, as he passed into the next dimension in 2023. I think he showed us that creativity is often about transformation, and was inspired to make his art by a legitimate awe of space, the cosmos, and human imagination that the scifi movies of the 1970s and 80s provoke.

[the-tarot-witch22]

Physical Appearance of your future spouse! - Pick a pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2/ Pile 3

My Paid Readings | My insta

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Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Pile 1 :

(Knight of pentacles, the moon, 3 of wands and 5 of pentacles)

Okay so the very first thing i felt from this card you future spouse seems very masculine like their features and overall vibe of their look seems so manly, or it can be you who prefers very masculine man, this pile's energy seems so mysterious and private, your future seems like someone who is quite private or mysterious when it comes to their personal relationships or affairs they are not very open with every people they meet, their gaze seems so sharp like if he looks at you for more than few seconds you will just look away, the dressing sense could be like comfortable wear or formal wear, like oversized hoodie or sweater or under a shirt, trousers below, i see lots of brown and colors that are quiet darker in shade, with contrasting white or off white, their eye colors could be (blue/green/brown), eyes could be foxy or smaller in shape, there could also be a dimple and it could be you guys too, he might like to wear rings, their hands seems veiny and bigger in size , long fingers, height is above than 5'10, they might also keep a beard, skin color could dark tan to fair/ pale, they seems foreign than you or could unusual type, as might their eyes are intense it also seems that there is some vulnerability inside them. Their build seems toned or athletic but not many abs, they could also have muscles, his biceps would be big, lol they seems to tell me just to say that, for some of you i see lean physique for your future spouse, they might also like to go to gym. Or keep their health in check. They might also exclude that rich vibe, their perfume could also be very unique! Their hairs could be black/brownish shade but wavy! Their lips seems fuller.

Okay that was all for pile 1! Your fs seems to be very attractive honestly, good for you guys!

Pile 2 :

(The hierophant, page of pentacles, ace of swords and the magician)

Okay so the very first thing i feel for you guys that your future spouse seems like a nerd hehe, like with glasses and who seems to have knowledge of everything and definitely do, they might wear glasses too, they could also be a gamer or like to play games in their free time, their face is structured not that defined jawline but definitely there, their hair seems thick and luscious, and big almond eyes, with long eye lashes, their could be thin or medium pouty, heart shaped lips ifykwim, their eye color could be hazel, brown, black, or bluish/green, they might like blue color a lot because i see lots of blue color, prominent chin and nose, long nose, but won't look weird, it matches with their face structure, the hair length could be long and they might wear it in bun or medium length, their build seems big i am channeling the song "big boy by sza", they seems to like a smarty pants, they might even be in touch with their feminine side, for some of you, your fs seems soft, their is something soft about them , like baby features could look younger then they are, their teeth are definitely very white, their voice seems to be deep or very unique, for some of you it seems like a high pitched voice too, or it could be you, they seem to be quiet spiritual or religious, i also feel they might like to go to church or believe in god or upper power? but anyways, height is average to tall 5'9"-5'12". They seem to have a unique charm about their appearance. Their face could be oval or square too. For some of you your fs could have a athletic or sleeper build. They or you might have had self image issues in past, or some of you still feel that, but i feel you and your fs is working on that part. I feel there might have been someone in your life that has made them feel like that or you. (this may or may not resonate with you) , this message wasn't for everybody but i wrote what i channeled. Their skin could be brown/white/dark. They are attractive in their own way.

Okay that's all for pile 2! They seems quite cute yet smart~ love that for you guys! and remember you guys are beauiful!

Pile 3:

(king of wands, the lovers, 8 of wands, 8 of cups, and the devil)

Okay so the very first thing i hear for you guys is your future spouse is very sexually appealing and attractive, and they know they are sexy, when they walk in a room you can feel their presence, the aura is very confident, they seem to be very confident in themselves, very good looking honestly, their eyes are intense and beautiful, like someone could lose themselves in their eyes, they even might seem intimidating to you because of their physical appearance, their dressing sense is also very good, they seem very fashionable or has unique taste, they also seems to turn heads while they walk in a certain room, or people talk about their good looks, their masculine and feminine energy is very balanced, they are tall possibly 5'11"-6'0" or could also be above, if not i feel 5'8 or 5'9 their height that is, they might also seem like a Greek god or that type of attractiveness, their jaw is structured or has and defined jawline, they keep their hairs short and styled in a slick style for some of them they might also use gel, their face is very proportionate, very sharp nose or straight nose, could wear glasses or watches, for some of you your future spouse could have curly hairs, skin could be pale/dark/tan possibly olive. They workout a lot, could have a dad bod with muscles too, but nevertheless very attractive, they also seem quite dominating, their eyes color seems to be blue/black and brown or unique color of sort, they might take care of their self quite good. They might like to wear sport shoes a lot. They really look like a model honestly.

That's all pile 3! Your fs is very attractive inside and out, love that for you guys~

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[trensu]

Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants. 

The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.

“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.

“Uh…a good one?”

“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.

They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.

Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.

"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration. 

Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.

"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"

"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."

Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.

"That's weird," Dustin said.

"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.

"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.

"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."

"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."

"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.

"Guys! Guys, what about my..."

The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.

"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."

Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.

"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.

Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."

"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."

--

It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.

The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.

It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.

By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.

--

He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.

His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.

"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.

"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."

Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.

"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."

Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.

--

Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.

When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.

“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.

“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me. 

“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it. 

“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”

There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.

–

Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.

Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.

A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond. 

Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.

“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second!”

“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.

“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.

“I’m not a lord.”

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”

“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”

The man laughed at him outright.

“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”

Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.

“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”

“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”

“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”

“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”

“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.” 

“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.

“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”

“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”

“Kind of.”

“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”

“Your god is the King of Dark–”

“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”

The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.

“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.

“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”

The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.

The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

–

It happened again.

now with an additional snippet here and here

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you'd like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

[legy]

i gotta tell you what ive read two hours of wholesome monster girl academia and

1. its fucking boring. but

2. its like completely uncritically set in a monstergirl residential school. the protagonist thinks about how monsters are better off at private catholic academies instead of public school. its established in the loredump at the beginning of the game that monsters were uncontacted peoples discovered via the first uses of satellite photography. they were genocided by most of human society but for whatever reason the pope declared that all are equal under the eyes of god and is stated to have allowed interspecies marriages well before it was legal. none of the monsters you get to know ever express anything regarding having a culture outside of catholicism, including one (a daywalker, the child of a human and vampire) who is actively repulsed by his vampire lineage and verbatim says that "vampires are 100% evil." crazy subtext in this thing

2.5 sorry i cannot get over that monsterfucker marriages were officiated by catholic churches, IN TEXT, before interracial or gay marriages were

3. there are many weird details that (speaking as someone who was raised catholic and went to sunday school) immediately scream that the author is either not catholic or an adult convert. which makes the choice to commit to this bit so intensely just baffling to me. like they have mass on wednesday which is (to my knowledge) exclusively a protestant practice. all the spaces you inhabit (particularly the religious ones) are not nearly as ostentatious as you would expect from a catholic church. like their chapel is more spartan than the one attached to the sunday school i went to. they wont even involve the more interesting/iconic catholic rituals like lent because its set in OCTOBER. where are my fish feast fridays.

4. the fucking vampires dont even drink blood so we dont even get the awesome lore possibility that the eucharist is filling to them because its literally the body and blood of christ

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Charmed

AO3

Simon knows how it started. This...superstition that leads to his men feeling safe. It involves you. Of course, it does. You have crept into every other aspect of his life, as slowly as squash vines fingering their way up bushes and houses. He doubts you even know you've done it, infiltrated his peace.

Johnny, in his ineffable suaveness, kissed you on the cheek one time as he said his goodbyes before a mission. The man got blown clear through a wall with nary a scratch. The only thing different he could remember doing had been kissing you. Bastard couldn't keep his mouth shut about it. None of the other guys had met you yet. Ghost knew that would change. Johnny wouldn't shut the fuck up about how he had to test this again, to see if a kiss from you turned out to be a lucky charm.

Military men were more in tune with spirits, vibes, cosmic entities than most religious leaders, witches, or charlatans combined. They had to be. There were no atheists in foxholes after all.

They did meet you, Price, then Gaz, then Roach. Ah, Roach. Always the last to be let into a new dynamic. A capable solider, a solid member of the 141, but still a guarded, protected member, to those on the outside. You welcomed him with a warm smile and a surprise knowledge of sign language.

"This is Roach," Gaz clapped him on the shoulder. "He doesn't speak."

Roach had glared at Kyle over his shoulder. The heat in the stare had been clear even behind his sunglasses and surgical mask.

You squinted up at Kyle from your place at the coffee table, mid-game of cribbage with Johnny. (This was the only game he had a chance of winning since luck could sway a hand in either direction).

"Does he not speak or does he not communicate with you because you're kinda an asshole?"

Kyle's nose scrunched down at you. Price laughed into his drink and Simon wouldn't help a small chuckle. He opened his mouth to defend himself but you turned to look at Roach. You moved your hands quickly, one brow lifted in question. Simon recognized only one of your moves as sign language.

Roach did a little head shake before replying, hands flying as fast as yours did.

You laugh at whatever he signs, "I am not calling you roach. My friends will not let me live it down if I make another friend with a weird name."

You glare at Johnny who grins in reply.

Roach signs more as Kyle slips into the kitchen for a drink for everyone.

"My brother is deaf. I learned to sign before I could speak, my mom taught me by virtue of signing with my brother." You sign along as you speak, telling everyone your half of the conversation at least. "We still talk regularly even though he moved to Australia to be a professor at one of their colleges."

You and Roach had hit it off, becoming fast friends. Signs flew back and forth. At one point Simon watched your brows draw together before snapping to glare at Johnny and then back to Roach. Simon watched it all with a slight fascination. Roach had never taken to anyone so fast, let alone a woman. You slid into the dynamic of the 141 as if you were molded for it.

When the guys had readied themselves to leave you ducked under Johnny's attempt to plant a kiss on you again. Instead, you dragged Roach off to the bathroom and sent him out askew. Sunglasses pushed into his hair, mask sitting wonky on his face, and several kiss marks in pink lipstick covering from ear to ear. Several were only half covered by his mask.

Johnny glared at him for getting kisses that he needed to test for luck. Gaz clapped him on the shoulder.

"Guess I'm not the only asshole here today. Better luck next time Soap. But at least we know that if Roach comes through an impossible situation then she is definitely a good luck charm."

Everyone laughed as they trailed out of the building. Simon had seen you, leaning on the railing on the top of the stairs. You sent him a two-fingered salute, he nodded and shut the door behind him.

Roach had taken a shot to the side, missing his liver by millimeters. That had confirmed it for the team, you were a good luck charm. That is why Simon had popped back to the flat, for a smidge of that luck.

He found you asleep on the couch. Peaceful. The couch would hurt you if you stayed on it too long. Simon knew from experience. He slid a hand under your knees and upper back, lifting you into his arms. You blinked sleepily up at him.

"Hi Ghost. Why are you carrying me?"

"Can't sleep on the couch," he grunted back.

"Oh," came your sleepy little reply. "Do you need a kiss?"

Only the training of years and years kept him from freezing up at your question. He pushed into your room through the cracked door, sitting you upright in your bed. He knelt on one knee at your feet. You rubbed your eyes as you looked at him.

"Yes."

He had a solo mission. This one scared him. Something in his bones told him that he wouldn't make it home in one piece.

You lift both hands to his masked face. Leaning forward you place two gentle kisses over the eyeblack of his eyelids. It wasn't enough. Ghost shifted the mask up to sit over his nose. He watched your gaze flick over his scars, moving like a dragonfly.

Still holding his face you pull him close, angling him for a kiss. The softness of your lips against his rough ones zaps at his soul. He can't help but put both hands on the bed, bracketing your hips, and pushing up into the kiss. Your thumbs slip beneath the edge of the mask, rubbing streaks in the hollows of his face.

Taking the barest part of your lip between his teeth he pulled. You breathed a moan into his mouth before pulling back. Avoiding his eyes you pull the mask down, shifting it to sit just so. Going so far as to tuck it into his hoodie you still avoid his eyes.

When your hands are settled in your lap again you look at him.

"Good luck Ghost, Simon."

He looked at you a moment more before slipping from your room and the flat altogether.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[blood-orange-juice]

Inspired by a discord discussion.

I keep seeing characters from snowy places portrayed as unbothered by cold or missing it, and every time I remember that it's completely counterintutive if you didn't grow up in freezing temperatures

So I thought I should write this post.

We are very bothered by cold. We are way more bothered by cold than southerners. Being bothered is what keeps you safe. Warmth is a resource.

There are few lucky people who simply never get cold (mostly guys of endomorph body type) but it's not a given and generally northerners start to complain and wear warm coats at the tiniest hint of cold.

Humans can only adjust up to a certain threshold.

For example, Irish and British winters allow you to ignore weather almost completely (you'll be miserable but you'll probably live), so there's a culture of stoicism, not heating your house above 16-18°C (60-65°F), wearing shorts and sandals (and a Very Big Scarf) when it's snowing and all that.

(I quickly got used to leaving the bathroom window open at 4°C when I was living there. who cares really)

So there's a common misconception that you can do the same with even colder weather.

However, once you are past that adjustment threshold (for most people it takes as little as -5..0°C/23..32°F lasting for more than a month per year) there can be no special built-in resistance to that type of cold (unless you are a yogi or a Taoist monk), instead you learn a bunch of behaviours that help you. You start to preserve warmth religiously.

You also start to differentiate between types of being cold and avoid some of them (some build up over time and it wears you down, so it's best to avoid them entirely). Anything that drops your core temperature (this is noticeable long before you start shivering, shivering is the equivalent of fire alarm) is a huge no. Fingers getting a bit numb from building a snow castle is nothing major though.

It can be hard to unlearn that even if you moved to a warmer place years ago.

Stoic northern characters who have moved to a warmer country are very likely to Complain About The Cold.

They'll start wearing coats at higher temperatures than southerners (because, well, the weather might get worse, or you might stay outside longer than you planned, or move less).

They'll get cold hands more often because their body panics at the tiniest signs of cold and diverts blood to the centre (my first impression of the Irish was how warm everyone was when we shook hands. I'm the same now).

Most will heat their houses to the point where it's possible to walk around in a t-shirt no matter how cold it is outside (those who don't will comment "thank gods that people don't do that in your country, I hated it back home").

They'll whine at +5°C (40°F).

Apart from heavier clothes they'll have a bunch of weird habits like Walking Really Fast when the weather is bad (it's for when you don't want to wear heavier clothes).

They might have a fondness for scarves and good winter shoes (warm shoes and a warm hat are even more important than a warm coat. the lack of hats in fantasy upsets me. scarves are less important but they are pretty).

When locals get surprised they'll reply with "yes, but this is *damp* cold, *dry* cold is different" (it's more complicated than that but this answer usually stops further questions, so we go with that).

It's not like they are actually less cold-resistant, they just take cold more seriously.

At the same time they can be weirdly unbothered by things that freak some of the southerners out because they know how their body deals with low temperatures and which things have no consequences.

(it's not something that you learn from books, it's practical knowledge of what you personally can get away with. for example, I often get completely numb thighs during winter walks, takes an hour to start feeling anything when I get home. but I know it's all right as long as my feet are warm and my core temperature is within normal range)

They also won't suffer consequences when it gets truly cold, while more nonchalant southerners won't notice when they get borderline hypothermic or just cold enough to get sick.

They'll probably consider -30°C (-22°F) exciting. It becomes enjoyable again, because the outside world is now a death zone and there's some macabre fun in resisting it. Oh, and your eyelashes get covered in frost and it looks dope. What's not to like.

Kids will make a point to eat ice cream outside in -30°C (no, they won't get sick from it). I can't explain it, it just works like that.

Generally people from colder countries are not bothered by cold if they can return to a warm place soon enough, it's the prolonged exposure to cold (even mild) they are worried about. Going out for a smoke without a coat is common.

If they are still in a cold country, it's also a bit different from what you expect.

There's a trope of drinking to keep warm. It doesn't work like that. You can drink alcohol to feel warm but not to keep warm and it's an important difference. When it's cold your body's proper response is to constrict blood vessels and to divert blood flow from extremeties to slow down the loss of warmth. Alcohol reverts that.

This means it's perfectly appropriate to drink eggnog or mulled wine at a fair (when you are supposed to get to warmth soon enough, so the illusion of not being cold is not harmful) or hard spirits when you get back from the cold (it will help you warm up faster), but not if you are staying in a cold place. During a hike through winter woods a thermos with sweetened tea and fatty food are your best friends.

Some won't know it and get drunk and frostbitten/hypothermic. People are stupid.

Food gets weird, fats start to seem even tastier than usual. People in Antarctic expeditions are known to crave sticks of butter. In certain weather sandwiches with frozen lard are delicious.

Anything can and will be made into tea.

Some tropes I personally disagree with.

Pain. Pain levels depend on the weather. Cold eases any kind of external pain (cuts or burns) but makes worse anything internal (broken bones, cramps, most headaches).

Hypothermia feels nothing like peacefully falling asleep. It's the most miserable state I've ever experienced, psychological trauma doesn't even come close.

Well, maybe there are people who do fall asleep but other people I've talked to seem to share my experience.

I'm not sure how exactly it works, I think it messes up your self-regulation, since most chemicals in your body require a certain temperature range to work properly. Basically you become Not Yourself. Your emotions go whack (usually it's either extreme self-pity or extreme anger). It feels awful. I hope you never get to experience it.

Most of us don't really miss cold.

Well, some perverts do, but there's a general consensus that cold is awful.

We do miss some things that only happen during cold days though. The stillness and the quiet or how pretty snow looks. How bright the stars are on a clear night. The colour of sunsets and twilight sky when it's freezing.

(in my opinion, the best experience happens around -5°C, it's already pretty but the world is not a death zone yet)

There's also an appreciation of contrast with things that are Not Snow.

Walking from the cold into a greenhouse with orchids.

Watching a blizzard rage outside your window while you sit in warmth with a cup of tea.

Jumping into a lake straight out of a sauna (then going back. do not do that if you have a heart condition).

Fireplaces. Holiday food. Mulled wine. Saffron in pastry.

There's also a lot of beauty in the world that is frozen. I keep stumbling upon the fact no one around me shares these experiences anymore and it saddens me.

The xylophone sound of first ice being broken by a passing boat.

Sea moving under the ice — when it's not too thick it rises and falls like some large animal breathing.

The whale-song-like sounds of ice cracking on large lakes.

There's a very special mood of waiting for first snow. The world is too cold and dark without it and then you wake up one night from the sudden quietness (snow muffles all sounds) and you know it's there even before you look out of the window,

There's the exhiliration of spring. The moment when the wind starts to have a scent — thawing snow smells a bit like watermelons but clearer. Winter smells like nothing at all.

The first tiny yellow flowers in mud. They are our hanami.

(I don't think anyone in Europe truly appreciates spring if they are not from Nordic or Baltic countries)

There's a certain attunement to the scent of ice too.

Like that barely perceptible tingle in the air in late September, long before you can see any ice.

I feel the scent of ice when there's wind from the right part of the Atlantic. No one ever notices but it's there. I love it.

It's nostalgic in a way.

But it's never missing the cold itself for me. For very few people it is, I think.

*

This is, of course, personal perspective and my experience is not universal. I'm a person from continental climate with harsh winters and hot summers and a city dweller with occasional visit to country houses and a tiny bit of mountaineering experience.

An indigenous person from a place with barely any summer or a character from a fantasy everwinter country will probably differ from me.

There are, after all, simply people who genuinely love cold. A lot of them. It is, however, not the default northerner's experience.

But hey, it's still more complex than it's usually written.

*

If you want to read something focused on winter descriptions, there's Smilla's Sense of Snow by Peter Høeg.

It's hauntingly beautiful prose and the main character is from Greenland.

‘It’s freezing, an extraordinary -18 °C, and it’s snowing, and in the language which is no longer mine, the snow is qanik – big, almost weightless crystals falling in stacks and covering the ground with a layer of pulverized white frost.’

And then there's Moominland Midwinter. I think it gets better when you read it as an adult and it's probably still the best thing I have ever read about winter solstice.

Anyway.

I think we need more good winter stories.

[innocent-cat]

Hello darling! Is it okay to request a Vax x F!Reader x Percy (love triangle) one-shot? Where the reader is a human sorcereress from a noble family and somehow ends up with Vox Machina, only for Percy and Vax to develop feelings for her (or them, if you are more comfortable) a year later and become rivals and try to impress her.

I hope this isn't too weird! And it's fine if you don't want to do it! Have a wonderful day/night! Stay safe! 🤗💖

OH MY GOD YESSSSSSSSS i actually love this idea so much

Sorceress and noble????? OF COURSE SHE HAS TIESSS WITH THE DE ROLOSSS AND THATS WHY SHE JOINSNSMNNSNS

It's awesome you clarified gender! i only do non-b pronouns when someone doesn't specify the gender. Otherwise I am happy to write for male or female!

sorry im getting excited

Vax'ildan x Reader x Percival

Warnings - idk probably gonna lean towards my bbg percy, not so obvious love triangle, swearing, im literally gonna be using f/n and shit, I'm literally rewatching to remember how to write them as I write this so good luck reading my poor memory of characters, I will use she/her, FUCK I HAD TO USE [name] IM SO SORRY, timeskip because oh my god this is so long,

"Vox Machina's (least) favorite Sorcerer.", Vax x Reader x Percy

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

[F/N] - Family Name

Lady Mystra - Goddess of magic/The weave

[Name] - I was too embarrassed to use y/n

Envonium - The name of the city you are a noble to (Sorry, couldn’t avoid it)

Twinned spell - A sorcery thing that allows a sorcerer to make one spell turn into two to attack two targets, never the same one twice in a row.

You come from a very rich cultured, religious, well mannered, prestigious and otherwise very dependent on magic kingdom. It only makes sense for such a huge part of the culture surrounding the beautiful city known as "The city of the weave", purely for its well known prestigious academies of magic, to have a generally magical culture. Many everyday tasks require magic, or it is commonly frowned upon to do some actions without it.

As a noble sorcerer yourself, your parents couldn't help themselves but give you the education you needed to become stronger as a magic wielder. They began your education at a young age, which proved a struggle for you to connect with companions and school partners who surrounded you. You were always disconnected from the reality of the lives of non-nobles. Other students seemed to feel the same way, and instead of adapting for you or explaining culture to you, they excluded you, making you an outcast in your own kingdom.

Lucky for you, your parents had many allies and peace treaties with those they were more powerful than or equal to, which happened to include the de Rolos. Once they learned of their children, one of which happened to be your age, Percy, they urged them to allow you, their only daughter, to meet Percival and his siblings.

Sadly, your exclusion in school made you awkward around him, and the two of you had trouble holding conversation for a very long time during your visit to Whitestone. It wasn't until your parents mentioned to Lady and Lord de Rolo the education they put you through so you could become a stronger sorcerer, that Percy warmed up to you and began to ramble about sorcery and wizardry, of which you knew much of both.

His curious personality led to conversations that lasted hours only asking the weave, which was tiring. When you began asking him questions back, he could not help himself but go on rants about science, history, and anything he remembered learning, which was a lot. The two of you had a rivaled education.

"That's... not really how the weave works. Where did you even hear that? That's absurd." You'd quip back at his stupid questions(At least, to you, they were stupid.), that you assumed were common knowledge.

"Well- in this book- it speaks of manipulating and changing the weave to cast spells." He was always defensive, quoting books directly and going as far as showing you the page.

With a sigh, "That book is decades old. You don't manipulate the weave, you pull it. Not even pull! It is a very delicate process." You knew it would be hard to explain, because you didn't quite understand it yourself yet.

Every summer, you would visit Whitestone until they suddenly stopped responding to letters, in which your parents cautiously chose to cut ties with the kingdom, without telling you. Whenever you'd ask about it, they'd hush you or change the topic. It confused you, but deep down, you knew they knew something about it.

Of course, this lets you down. You had begun to develop feelings for the boy who showed you kindness and bonded with you over something you were very prideful in. However, you eventually had to give up asking your parents questions about this, and continued your education in the weave.

Of course, your demanding parents practically begged you to practice your magic in real world experiences so you could be truly prepared. When you showed hesitation in doing such a thing, they only pushed harder- in fact, they packed your bags for you. They gave you a lot of gold for the road, a magic bag to hold everything needed, a change of clothes, food for a few days(Bread, cheese, water.), and a map. Not much, but they knew you were more than capable of making due.

Obviously, being a noble of the [F/N] family gave you a target on your back, but it wasn't much of a problem. It seems people underestimate you because you aren't armed with anything but a quarterstaff, but it takes no less than a chromatic orb or a fireball to kill them within seconds.

With background check over, you sit in a tavern.. :3

A group of loud, drunken, lowly mercenaries are shouting across the bar and asking for trouble with several strong looking city dwellers. You can tell they have no real experience in fighting other than bullying people for their money based on their muscles and lack of scars.

You try to ignore the banter, trying to get lost in a pint of beer as you sip on it, the woozy drunk feeling freeing you from an emotional state you get late into the night when left alone to think of your family, your people, and more importantly, all the books you had to leave behind to come here.

You're brought out of your thoughts as a table goes flying over your head, followed by a mug that hits your head, wetting you with the remaining alcoholic liquid left in the cup.

You quickly snap around, rubbing your now pounding head. You ready yourself to cast a spell strong enough to rival the sun against the dirty drunken party, but you realize it was one of the burly men who like to pretend to be tough who threw the table at you. You quickly change the direction of your twinned spell, making quick work of both of them as they fall stunned to the floor. The bar fight ensues as you knock the two of them out, an elf with dark and long hair defends you as another drunken man swings at you with a makeshift weapon. It seemed like it was a leg to a chair, but you couldn't tell in the blur of the quick paced fighting.

Once the quick turned fight ends, a female ranger announces to the barkeeper that 'Vox Machina' will pay back their tab in due time. You roll your eyes, and with a groan, you begrudgingly hand up a small bag of gold to cover their tab and look at the elven woman with an extremely annoyed face. She looks back, surprised you paid their tab, and even more so surprised you have the audacity to look at her with such a face.

A white haired, taller man looks at you with extreme shock. His face is familiar, but you know better than to stare, something he must have forgotten. Your face shifts into a less disgruntled face as the barkeeper speaks to you, thanking you for kindly paying the group's tab.

With the showy smile you were taught, you give him a soft and polite 'You're very welcome. Thank you for your hospitality.'

Your conversation with the barkeeper is cut short when the brunette, elven woman loudly asks you "And who the fuck are you?"

It sounded much more like actual curiosity than impoliteness, so you choose to not respond with the same tone, instead introducing yourself.

"[Name] [F/N]." (Guys im actually so sorry for having to do that, it feels taboo bc no one likes it) One side of you hoped they knew your family name for the sake of fear or authority, but the other hoped they didn't for the sake of having new beginnings.

Their gnome cleric seemed to be working your name out, familiarity reading on her face. You can tell it clicks when she looks up at you thinking of what to say, but she instead introduces herself and the rest of the party.

"Hi.. I'm Pike, this is Grog, the two similar looking elves are twins, Vex and Vax. The druid is Keyleth, and.. Scanlan is the guy pissing on the sign right now." As she speaks you can hear the encouraging smile on her face in her voice, her friendly introduction and personality persuading you to not judge or speak ill of Vox Machina.

You smile at all of them as she introduces them, except for Scanlan, your face rests in disgust watching the half nude gnome piss on a sign, then accidentally piss on a guard of the kingdom.

You turn expectantly to the one Pike seemingly forgot to introduce, the look of disgust still on your face. He seems startled you gave him the sour face, and you quickly fix it. You wave a beckoning motion at him to introduce himself.

"My name is Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III'' You finally realize who he is, and your face contorts to curiosity, but there's a small amount of disgust evident in it as well.

You have no clue what his family might have done to your’s for them to cut ties with his, but it couldn't have been good. Your mother always fought your father to keep as many allies as possible, and it was very rare for them to both agree on cutting ties.

Rolling your eyes at his long introduction, you cross your arms. The wisp of cold night wind swishes through your hair, as you feel it on your neck. You look up at him like scum under your foot, standing a distance of around 4 feet away from him.

"Do.. you guys know each other?" Pike asks you awkwardly, the rest of the party staring at the two of you awkwardly as well, noticing your repulsed face and Percy's face of surprise.

You scoff. "Know each other? No no.. we're only childhood best friends of neighboring kingdoms." Your voice seethes in sarcasm, your gaze not leaving Percy.

A new voice enters the awkward situation, the elven rogue, Vax, who protected you earlier.

"Yeah, you two really seem to be bonded to the core." His sarcasm matches your's, and you laugh softly, finally turning away from the silent Percy.

Walking towards him to converse, your face changes to a more smug than angry expression, your eyebrows still turned downward. The two of you banter for a moment before Scanlan awkwardly reveals a request for mercenaries.

"You guys wouldn't mind if I joined you, right? It's been a long while since I've been part of a party, and even longer since I’ve seen Percy." You ask Pike, who you assume is the leader of the party as she seems most responsible.

"It never hurts to have a few extra hands!" You can tell she's still dwelling on your interaction with Percy, as her tone is sensitive and her words practically dance around what just happened.

(Timeskip because theres literally a gap in writing in the show BECAUSE I DONT FUKCING KNOW WHAT TO DO HELP)

Waking up in the morning and climbing the stairs up to the ruler of Emon was a struggle, and you couldn't help but cast an ice spell to soothe the headache you currently had. Percy had tried to talk to you a few times, but you had shrugged him off at every opportunity. He opted to walk in the front of the group, conversing lightly with Vex and Keyleth.

It was nice talking to Vax so casually, as it wasn't an opportunity given to you often to speak informally. He gave you a few confused glances whenever you slipped up and started speaking formally, and you'd let out an awkward laugh and wave your hand in front of your face to try and get him to ignore it.

"So- what brings you to Emon?"

"My mother and father pushed me out of the kingg..domm.. I just want to practice my sorcery. I haven't really used it outside of learning it in practice." You trail off, when he gives you a weird look after mentioning your home.

"Oh. Really? That sounds.. wonderful. You seem a truly powerful sorcerer." He replies to you with an awkward smile on his face, trying to keep the conversation flowing with you as best as possible.

Once the party reaches the doors, Trinket, Vex's pet bear, stays on the outside of the doors with the guards. The party all make an awkward introduction, and you attempt to quip that you aren’t part of Vox Machina perse, but Scanlan quickly spoke over you in song, and went over you quite quickly, introducing you as “The sorcerer princess of the city of the weave!” And honestly? You had to admit it was better than anything you were expecting him to say about you, even if he had gotten some facts wrong.

A ‘punch in the gut’ feeling washed over you as you remember that you are a high status noble walking among a group of barfing, hungover mercenaries, and you look just as hungover as the rest of them. You quickly straighten yourself out and push around Vax with a soft ‘Sorry..’ and stand next to Percy, hoping to look better next to him, another noble. He seems surprised but ignores it, letting Scanlan bullshit you guys through the ‘meeting’ you had interrupted by walking in. Eventually, Emon’s ruler and a few advisers approve of your group saving the kingdom, in exchange for a very large box presumably full of gold coins.

You all quickly board the boat like aircraft, shuffling to stand near the railing, you find yourself standing next to Percy after not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on between Vex and Vax, opting to not seem rude or nosy. You of course, keep your space between you and him, and lean on the rail, debating on starting the conversation.

And you do.

“So.. what could the de Rolos have done to have angered the [F/N]s?” You ask, sarcastically, but genuinely curious.

Percy turns and looks at you with a face of bewilderment. “What did we do? What are you talking about?” Percy’s voice has anger lacing through it, and he wasn’t trying to hide it, but it’s not like he was trying to show it either.

“I mean, what did you guys do? Lord de Rolo stopped responding to my mother’s letters, and one day both mother and father refused to speak of Whitestone. It was like you guys did some horrible offense against lady Mystra, or, I don’t know, maybe betrayed one of our stronger alliances?” You dig deeper under his skin unknowingly, your face only showing confusion.

Percy’s stance changed, and he turned his body to face you. “My father stopped responding to your mother’s letters because he was murdered. They.. were all murdered. I ran from my kingdom, barely escaping my attackers, and I assumed you did your’s?”

Your mouth drops ever so slightly in shock, but you quickly close it. “I’m so sorry, Percy. I had no clue. I wish I could have convinced my parents to do something.. And no, I didn’t run from Evonium. My parents sent me away to become stronger.. I finally graduated from my academy.” Your eyes are glossy, as if hurt for Percy for what happened to his family. Your expression was soft, and pitiful. It almost completely contrasted the look you gave him at the bar, if it weren’t for that same pitiful look that knitted in your eyebrows as the wind blew against your face.

He turns away, unwilling to think about the look you had given him. He sighs. “It’s quite alright. I don’t blame you for assuming our families crossed one another. If I was in your position I would have done the same.”

You scoot closer to him, but leave room to breathe. You felt selfish for wanting to heal your relationship so fast, so you would let him choose when the wound was closed.

You felt eyes burning into the back of your head, but you tried ignoring it. Unaware it was Vax, you choose not to turn, and hope it was nothing. It seems he doesn’t want the wound to close at all, and he has a face that reads jealousy. He turns back to Vex, continuing their conversation and trying to shake off the feeling he had about you and Percy.

The ship shakes, and quickly levitates to the ground, a small wooden town ahead of you. The tents were torn, and burns were evident in the wood that kept the cloth up. It didn’t look like the work of a reckless wizard or sorcerer, and it seemed like it came haphazardly from above. You slowly walk down the aircraft beside Percy in silence. Scanlan makes some kind of sexual comment to the woman who brought us here, to which she ignores and promptly leaves without a word. You can’t help but roll your eyes at him.

You and Percy walk awkwardly behind everyone else, as Vax walks beside Keyleth, Pike next to Grog, and Vex next to Scanlan, which she was visibly upset about. However, she didn’t seem too upset as the two bantered sarcastically back and forth. The trail to the tents begins to go down hill, the path muddy and slippery. You try to hold onto Percy’s shoulder as you walk down, in which he drapes an arm around your waist in response to, trying to help support you, but it only brings you flashes of your childhood crush on him, and you fail to pay attention to the floor, despite having a staring contest with it.

You slip, falling backwards for only moments before Percy’s hand grips your hip, his arm already behind your back to support you, and pulls you back up. It was a pull with quick strength that was more of a reflex than an action, and it pulls you nearly face to face. You blush, and mutter a quick ‘Thanks, Percy.’, and he looks away with a quickly spoken, flustered, “Yeah! Yes. Of course.” as if he was trying to pull himself together. You pull away, but keep your hand on Percy’s shoulder until fully down the slope.

Vax turns around to look at the commotion, and he catches a glimpse of you blushing at Percy. He can’t help but scoff at it, and turns back around to talk to Keyleth, only really half talking to her, and her only really half talking to him.

[noctilu-uca]

This little freakster is apparently really really courteous and gentlemanly as said by the nrc students. He uses very highly respectable honorifics for EVERYONE even the people his own age (hes 16-ish i think) and is generally a very polite person and speaks eloquently. So very eloquently that it gets really odd since we rarely see that type of speech from someone so young in twst. As we know, halloween fanatic. BIIIGGG halloween fanatic. his hometown apparently worshiped jack skellington and saw him as the creator of halloween so basically grew up in weirdly halloween religious town. At school he was very ostracized (assuming he didnt go to school in his hometown, dont know if its NRC or RSA, best to assume its not) because the students dont share his interests and find him weird. Ended up in a book, the book his IDOL jack skellington resides in, forgotten by history, yet he aimlessly wandered the forest and never opened the holiday doors despite it being the only thing different in the forest

Theres many theories, skully might be dead, might be a ghost, OOORRR. a fae. there is many things that supoort these theories because. 1. Skully doesnt seem to have the same background knowledge as the NRC students. 2. doesnt seem to know the existence of very common things in twst, things that even the 700+ year old lilia remembers very well and can recount the change of expresison over time (magic stones). 3. He seems to think people dont know about halloween, or at the minimum gets OVERLY excited and surprised that people know of the *existence* of halloween. Theres more thingd but i cant remember them right now

But me ? What i think ? I think skully just grew up in an overly conservative town and he doesnt really *know* the outside world and its perspective because its all hes known. Of course my knowledge is limited bc this is a jp event WAAHHH but i know enough to make a decent inference

Despite being halloweens no.1 fan. Hes very odd about its expression...? He had odd rules, i dont remember them all but it was weird things like ALL BLACK. NO COLOURS. NO CANDY. NO MUSIC. NO DANCING. THIS IS SERIOUS AND SHOULD BE RESPECTED.

Anyway my point is that his expression of halloween is very serious very conservative and is almost treated like a wake or a funeral of some kind tbh. He also said that the "bad" ghosts should be beaten away despite halloween being the celebration of ALL ghosts (NRC students fought him on this one) which kinda just shows theres some moral "sin" he believes exists with halloween. Of course, expression is always subjective and hes free to do whatever he wants but he gets wayyy too upset when someone tries to go against whatever rules he places down for halloween. Way too upset. Ofc the NRC students (leona) weren't *always* nice about expressing their objections but it was still odd. He romanticizes halloween (much like how jack romanticizes christmas) yet turns it into something you would see at a weird church ? Hm.

And even with all that, he met jack !! His idol !! Wow omg !! But the thing is, when jack is planning halloween for the year skully actively dislikes his ideas. Despite idolizing him. Of course he goes along with it anyway because wow idol but, again, really odd

So my thoughts on this predicament, skully grew up in a religious, small, conservative town. And when he moved out and explored the world he was met with ostracism, and when he found an escape (the book) he dug himself into his fixation and refuses to leave the world hes built himself. He rarely talks about his outside world experiences, rarely talks about his hometown unless its in reference to his fixation. His views stay stuck with the conservative approach despite being told time and time again that it isnt the *right* way to approach. Even, indirectly, by his own idol whom he had been projecting onto. But even with people pointing out his skewed ways, he stays stuck. Refusing to redirect his approach and stay with what he has always done and always wanted to do.

Escapism and reality are very big themes im seeing, thats all.

I COULD BE SO WRONG PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CORRECT OR ADD INFO IM NOT CONFIDENT ABOUT ANYTHING I AM POSTING ABOUT THIS GUY I LEARNED THIS ALL SECOND HAND AND DIDNT LOOK BACK FOR REFERENCE THIS IS STRAIGHT HOT OFF THE NOGGIN !!!!!

[rei-ismyname]

How Nightcrawler did NOT become a priest

In X-Men vol 2 #100, Chris Claremont showed us Kurt Wagner wearing a priest collar and reading from scripture. Before he had a chance to follow up on that, he left the book and it was just a weird thing that happened for 3 years. In 2003's Uncanny X-Men #423-424, Chuck Austen revisited the idea. TW sexual assault mention, religious trauma.

The X-Men return from a mission to find everyone left behind has been crucified on the front lawn. They didn't do a very good job (the nail goes through the wrist, not the hand) and almost everyone survived. Still, everyone was shaken up.

In trying to get to the bottom of this hate crime they identify The Church of Humanity as the culprits. It comes out that Kurt has been studying to be a priest for years, was ordained and walked away (because he was too horny lol) - except nobody else has any idea what he's talking about. He remembers a ceremony with the X-Men there, they do not. What is going on?

The X-Men decide to track down the Church of Humanity and put a stop to whatever they're up to. They'd also like some answers.

They find Father Whitney, who is a member and the dude who was training Kurt. Instead of being a frothing bigot, he seems genuinely remorseful. Jean Grey figures out there's secrets to be uncovered and Phoenixes the floor open, revealing a bloody lab. The plot thickens.

He's not exactly innocent either. 'They' were angry that Whitney failed. Failed to keep him in the priesthood, failed to curb his lustful desires (good luck with that,) and he failed at remaining a hater. He liked Kurt despite being a 'mutie' but he still did his part in a scheme to make him POPE. Yes, fucking really. He's repentant but fuck this guy.

The X-Men have a location and they close in on The Church of Humanity's Montana HQ. Turns out they have a psychic mutant they've been forcing to brainwash people. The boss is actually mad about the whole crucifixion thing. Meanwhile the X-Men are fighting their way through illusions and bullets.

After a pretty rad moment where Jean claims to have a message from God (it's Phoenix fire) the X-Men make their way in and find an imprisoned human priest who is 'on their side.' He exposits the plan to destroy the Catholic church by installing a 'demon' as pope and then rapturing everyone. It gets sillier.

How were they going to rapture the faithful, to make it appear they'd ascended to heaven? Exploding communion wafers, obviously. We get proof of that when Father Exposition raptures in front of them. He'd been fed the ballistic body of Christ. At this point the ringleader starts ranting at them, making very little sense. My understanding is that The Rapture is a very fringe belief, one that people keep predicting unsuccessfully. Perhaps it's not surprising that the leader is into Deuteronomy (one of the harsher Abrahamic texts, super popular with right wing extremists.)

Kurt basically enters a scripture rap battle at this point, with Havok chiming in every so often. He was adopted by a Catholic family and retained some knowledge. That actually explains a thing or two, but back to Kurt. They fight, find out the leader is a woman, and then she blows herself up. Or maybe she was raptured.

With all that figured out it's revealed Kurt was never a priest. If this fringe sect can even ordain Catholic priests, it was still an illusion - one that Kurt bailed on because of the vow of chastity. He was also brainwashed. The leader, sigh, was once a nun. When she was raped by a priest and victim blamed out the Church and her job, she decided to bring the Catholic Church down. She still loved God but not the religion. This whole plot was her way of achieving that.

I really hate that unnecessary revelation of rape as motivation. The Catholic Church clearly has a history of systemic sexual abuse and cover-ups but this is a clumsy and frankly offensive way to touch on it. It turns a survivor into a mass murdering bigot and makes little sense. Instead of being silly comic book nonsense, it becomes a callous use of real experiences and problems to provide an ex post facto explanation that wasn't really necessary.

Anyway, yeah - Nightcrawler was never a priest. He's Catholic but even in a brainwashed illusion he decided it wasn't for him.

[the-necromancer-wife]

I've read a lot of theories pointing out that Skully might have grown in an isolated, religious-like community. But I don't think that's the case. Allow me to elaborate:

TW: Spoilers/ long post/ just me analyzing Skully

It's sort of a cliché for Tim Burton films that the main character is a hermit of some sorts. Someone who is not adapted to the society or social conventions and usually lived by themselves or basically under a rock.

A few examples could be: Barnabas Collins in Dark Shadows, Willy Wonka in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (and Charlie himself), Edward Scissorhands, Jack Skellington and of course Vincent Malloy.

So my hypothesis so far:

>Skully is not only based on Jack Skellington's appearance, but also in Tim Burton's characters archetype:

Skully had a hard time adapting to the enviroment he presumably lived in and presented difficulties with bonding and forming relationships with others his age. At first i was inclined to believe he could be on the spectrum (autism or asperger) and I don't really discard that possibility yet, but I don't think his social difficulties are entirely caused by autism. I think he is visibly different from others in opinions and behaviors and that's why he's labeled as "the weird kid". And "the weird kid" is not always autistic.

He is similar to characters like Edward Scissorhands who grew up isolated and was visibly different. As a result of his enviroment, he didn't know how modern society worked and he was misunderstood and rejected.

This is one of the main elements on every Tim Burton movie: a certain someone that had a different childhood or whose life experiences led them to have a different (sometimes excentric) approach that wasn't socially accepted, although they weren't really hurting others.

The psychologist Lev Vygotsky wrote about how important the enviroment and social interactions were for a child. The difficulties Skully presents are common in those who didn't really get to experience those.

If he had grown in a conservative community, he wouldn't have access to any material related to Halloween. Why would they keep those books around? And if the community was in fact centered around Halloween as a celebration, why would they be labeled as conservative? Either he was raised in a conservative household or he harvested those ideas himself by isolating and reading old books. Which makes sense and leads me to my second hypothesis:

>He's partially twisted from the character Vincent Malloy.

I already explained who Vincent Malloy was in another post but basically he was obsessed with Vincent Price (the horror actor), and had a dark and twisted view of the world as a result of this, plus the isolation and the books he read.

Skully could be somehow twisted from Vincent given his obsession with Jack Skellington and his behavior indicates, as I said before, that he wasn't part of the community he grew in, just like Vincent.

Jack Skellington, the pumpking king, is depicted everywhere as the harbinger of horror and fear, even if Jack himself is rather a sensitive individual that wants to do things differently. The whole Nightmare before Christmas plot revolves around that: People having a wrong view about Jack as a result of him being the Halloween representative and Jack carrying a crown that's too heavy for him.

Vincent Malloy also enjoyed the dark and twisted world of horror and fear. But I'll elaborate more im my next point:

>Skully's mannerisms and obvious gaps in common knowledge come as a result of his isolation as well as him (possibly) reading horror books that also helped to form in him a more gloomy representation of Halloween.

Skully's arcaic mannerisms and language could be from books he read. Just like Vincent Malloy enjoyed to read the books of Edgard Allan Poe and ended up introjecting some of the elements depicted in those novels as well as those represented by Vincent Price (for Skully, Jack Skellington)

Also, little Vincent decided to isolate himself because of how much he enjoyed to play with his imagination, leading him ultimately to the development of a maladaptative daydreaming that consumed him. And of course, the disinterest in playing with other kids since they didn't really share his obsession.

If this is the case and Skully was a kid that grew without contact with his immediate community (his choice or not), that would explain all of his troubles socializing at school.

And also his outdated knowledge on many things. Is not that he was born long ago before magic stones were a thing, but more likely HE didn't know magic stones existed. At some point he abandoned his solitude, of course. Maybe when he started school.

>His parents and/or relatives are not really involved that much in his life.

It's kinda obvious by now, but Skully could come from a family that neglected him emotionally or materially. If that's the case, it would explain a lot.

>It would explain his poor dental hygiene, as nobody teach him how to take care of his teeth and lips properly. As the clothes are provided by the book we can't really tell if he was wearing modest or elegant clothing before he entered that place. But why would the book would alter his mouth's appearance? The only obvious answer is that it didn't and Skully doesn't know how to brush his teeth, one of the first things a parent should teach their child to do.

>It would explain why he was isolated for so long. Either he isolated himself or was recluded by his parents. Either way, his parents should have known better than to leave him locked up from the outside world or should have intervened to help him interact with others.

>In the case he had a turbulent relationship with his parents or they were emotionally unavailable, that would explain why he developed his hyperfixation. Looking forward to a historical figure like Jack could be a result of him not feeling identified with neither a mother figure or a father figure. Of course this is a very very flexible statement as this is not always the case.

Anyway, everything I said here could be accurate or not. This are just my considerations given the information i have so far.

[wolfintestinez]

ADAM STANHEIGHT HEADCANONS : 📼

hi hi ! here’s a few of my headcanons ! it’s not all of them but it’s the ones i have down, at the very least. 🗡️

- religious wendys / burger king eater.

- also a huge pepsi drinker, he rarely drinks anything else.

- as before, i am a tongue piercing truther, but it’s the only piercing he has. he’s scared of needles and it was a stupid thing that scott convinced him to do, he barely made it out of the healing process.

- it’s often he is rolling it around in his mouth without even realizing it, like he’s fidgeting.

- if he’s not listening to his ‘obscure’ hardcore bands, he’s listening to shit like oingo boingo. he will NOT admit it.

- he sticks around scott because he didn’t make too many friends in highschool, and he can’t stand the idea of having to start anew when it comes to the whole social scene. besides, being friends with scott has its perks (even if it means dealing with the toxicity). for example, there’s always something to do on a friday night.

- he didn’t drop out of highschool, but he did drop out of community college. he couldn’t be motivated to actually decide on what to do with his life, so he chose the only hobby he really enjoyed and made a career out of it. needless to say, his parents were not happy.

- speaking of his parents , he’s only close with his mother (kind of). his parents weren’t married, and have an odd relationship. his father is negligent, and pretty much just an asshole, while his mother cared about him enough to try and help when she could. but most of the time she stands by his fathers side, trying to play mediator.

- he only hates his father more as he sees his temper in himself. he’s angry, but he’s not sure what he’s ever exactly angry at. if anything, he’s an all around emotional guy, he just doesn’t know how to display them. he tends to blow up when overwhelmed.

- awkwardly charismatic, we can see this in the deleted ‘rockstar’ scene. it’s the weird bouts of confidence he gets, but it can so easily be torn down and his sarcastic self defense mechanism gets kicked in.

- undiagnosed autistic IDC IDC !!! his special interest is photography and biology. weirdly enough, he always had the highest grades in his biology classes.

- when he drinks he’s a lot more social, but he can get out of control really fast. an impulsive drinker if anything. he can get stupid and start fights that he definitely cannot win.

- sort of insecure when in relationships, but he doesn’t ever have the guts to speak about until he’s making snide remarks and blowing up a few days later.

- has way too much knowledge over b-list horror movies, it annoys anyone who’s watching one with him. he really enjoys killer klowns from outer space.

- a cat person, he feeds the strays outside of his apartment complex. if he knew that he could support a pet financially, he would take on in.

- very blunt with his opinions, which will also get him into a lot of trouble. if he thinks your favorite movie of artist is bad, then he’s gonna say it.

- a touch starved loser, but he’s not good at initiating it. but as soon as he gets the go ahead, there’s no boundary doubting him.

[leslie-lyman]

Hi! I was thinking for your Stranger at my Gate series, what do you think Pero’s reaction to modern sickness and medicine would be? Maybe even getting a bit of a cold or the flu himself. And of course how would Tessa react to Pero’s “first time” being sick, or at least sick in the modern world.

(Also yes, I’m 18+)

Have a good day/night.

Oh anon, I’ve actually thought about this quite a bit! Thank you thank you thank you for finally giving me the push I needed to actually write this. I’m extremely rusty but god I missed these two so much.

Sick Day

Word count: 2.1k

Rating: T

Warnings: discussions of illness; flu symptoms (but no vomiting); anxious Pero; if I had a nickel for every time I wrote these two showering together without having sex I’d have two nickels which isn’t a lot but weird that it’s happened twice

Masterlist. | Series Masterlist. | dividers by @/saradika

This process happens in two phases.

The first is the unlearning of essentially everything Pero has ever been told about how the human body works, how diseases are spread, and how to treat them. This isn’t terribly difficult to do, it turns out; Pero’s seen enough “medicine” administered during battles and in their aftermaths in his life to know it’s not a particularly useful or reliable field. Patients were more likely to get worse and die following whatever “treatment” they received in his experience. And any religious faith he had was utterly shattered by his time in China. It gets tough to believe the Church’s teachings about anything, including in the power of prayer and faith to heal, once you fight monsters from outer space.

The second is the absorbing of a deluge of modern knowledge about medicine. This one proves tougher. It’s easy for Pero to be convinced that his era’s beliefs about bodies and health were wrong. It’s far harder for him to grasp even the basics of something like germ theory, simply because such things seem to him as equally fantastical as the body being governed by four humors.

It is in this that Tessa, perhaps more than anything else, has to ask for Pero’s trust. He may not be able to understand the mountain of knowledge that underpins why and how, for example, vaccines work and are safe. Tessa and Henry do their best to explain, but in the end, Pero’s consent to get a flu shot relies on trusting that the Walshes are telling him the truth.

That trust gets easier to give over time, not only because Pero comes to trust Tessa in all things as he grows to love her, but also because his experiences with modern medicine start to accumulate.

He slowly comes to realize he doesn’t have to suffer through aches and ailments like he used to. The first time Tessa notices he has a headache, she offers him two white tablets and a glass of water. And it works. His pain eases. He didn’t even know he could ask for something to treat it.

He cuts his hand helping Tessa make dinner one night. (He may or may not have been distracted by how attractive he found Tessa deftly wielding her own knife against an array of vegetables.) Tessa calmly walks him through cleaning the wound (modern hygiene has been its own set of important lessons for Pero), then places some ointment and a bandage on it. In his time, he would have worried about the cut festering. At the very least, he would expect to add a new pink scar to the collection that already covers his body. But instead, the cut heals far faster than he’d have anticipated, and his skin heals without a permanent mark.

As for illness, Pero has muscled his way through a fair number of them in his life. He didn’t have much of a choice. He’s not afraid of dying from illness; death was a daily possibility in his time, and he’d learned to live with that. The risk of his being sick is not that he’d fall to pieces, but rather that he’d be the silent suffering type who wouldn’t ask for help.

So what truly scares him isn’t the first time he gets sick. It’s the first time Tessa gets sick.

It happens not terribly long after he decides to stay. Winter is, after all, cold and flu season. And while Tessa no longer works in an office environment or has to take public transportation to downtown Chicago every day or interact much with other people on a daily basis, she does interact quite often with her niece and nephews.

Kids are germ magnets. It’s just the way it is. And when one of them gets sick, they all get sick. And when Molly, Toby, and Finn have to stay home from school, and neither Amie nor Thom can take a day off from work, and Uncle Henry is busy with his own patients, guess who comes over to take care of them?

Aunt Tessa.

And she’s happy to do it, don’t get her wrong! And she does her absolute best not to catch the nasty flu that’s currently going around their school and that they’ve brought home. But there’s really only so much one can do.

It’s a bad one this year. Despite getting her flu shot (and making sure Pero gets his), after three days of helping to look after three extremely contagious kids she wakes up the next morning feeling like she got hit by a truck. Fever, chills, aches, the whole shebang. It sucks, but hey, that’s how it goes. She’ll take her meds, consume a steady diet of soup and Gatorade, and watch daytime tv for a few days.

Pero, on the other hand, panics.

Fevers are not things that are easy to fight off in his time. Imagine what seeing the woman he loves struck down with what he only knows as plague would do to him. It doesn’t matter what Tessa and Henry have explained to him about modern understandings of illness and how to treat them. This is not an unfortunate but routine occurrence in his eyes. This is something that could kill Tessa.

She spends most of the first day asleep, her fever lowered but not broken by the leftover meds she had from the last time she’d gotten sick the previous winter. Despite trying to both reassure Pero and convince him to stay away lest he catch this bug too, Pero refuses to leave her side.

He steps out of their bedroom only once, to make his very first phone call.

Tessa had shown him how to use her phone to contact her family in case of an emergency, but he’s never felt a reason to use it until now. Every aspect of it is completely strange, each time the screen responds to his touch making him flinch the tiniest bit in surprise. But he manages to call Henry.

“Tess?” her brother says when he picks up.

“Henry. I - it’s - hello.” Pero stumbles over the greeting, remembering at the last second that he needs to hold the phone against his cheek to hear and be heard.

“Pero?” Henry’s voice turns sharp, concerned. “What’s wrong? Tessa okay?”

“She’s ill. The same pestilence as the children.”

“Ah. Same symptoms? Fever, chills, all that?”

“Yes. She’s been sleeping for a while. Tried to tell me she was alright, but she’s…Henry, she’s burning up.”

“She will be alright, Pero,” Henry says gently. “She just needs to take some medicine and stay hydrated, and she’ll-”

“You don’t know that!” Pero barks, fear making it come out harsher than he intends. “Henry, please, just - will you come? She’s your sister, and she is…she’s my…”

He takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Please. I don’t know how to help her. I don’t know what to do. But you do. I need you to make sure she’s okay.”

Henry is silent for a moment, and seems to grasp the larger context of Pero’s fear.

“Of course I’ll come to check on her. And I’ll bring over some things that will help. Give me an hour or so.”

“Thank you.” Relief laces Pero’s voice. Henry snorts.

“Please, she hasn’t let anyone properly take care of her while she’s been sick in years. Now I have an excuse to baby my stubborn baby sister. I should be the one thanking you.”

Henry arrives with his arms laden with soups, sports drinks, ice cream, and several boxes of meds. Tessa grumbles first at being roused from her nap, then at the sight of her brother.

“Fuck’s sake, Hank,” she groans into her pillow. “It’s just the flu.”

“Good afternoon to you too, dear sister. What a pleasure it always is to see your lovely face.”

Tessa rolls over just enough to glare at him with one glassy, fever-glazed eye.

“It’s just. The. Flu. Courtesy of those little gremlins we’re related to. It’s gonna suck for a few days but then I’ll be fine. You should be taking care of your actual patients who really do need your help.”

Henry cajoles her into sitting up a bit, then slips both his stethoscope and a thermometer from a coat pocket.

“Really, Hank, there’s no need – ”

“Tessa,” he says lowly, and the serious note in his voice makes her pay attention. “I’m here because Pero called me. He’s worried, Tee. I think you’re scaring your boyfriend a little.”

Tessa’s gaze jumps to Pero, who’s lingering in the doorway. The way her expression completely softens would make Henry roll his eyes if he weren’t so damn happy his sister had finally found someone who loved her the way Pero did.

“I’m sorry, Pero,” she croaks. He shakes his head vigorously and comes to sit on the other side of the bed.

“Do not apologize, mi amor.” He tenderly pushes her hair back from her sweaty forehead. “Just please let your brother do what he must. I will not take chances when it comes to you.”

The fight instantly goes out of her. Henry checks her vitals and makes her take another dose of medicine, letting his healing Gift soothe the worst of the body aches and calming her chills. Once she’s drifting off to sleep again he briefs Pero in the kitchen.

“Meds every four hours, check her temperature as often as she’ll allow you. Make sure she keeps drinking, and try to get her to eat something when she wakes up. If her fever doesn’t break in the next 36 hours, or suddenly spikes, call me.”

Pero nods, looking more serious than Henry has ever seen him, which is saying quite a lot about a man who essentially invented resting bitch face a thousand years before anyone else.

Henry gives the other man’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“I appreciate you calling me, Pero. But I promise Tessa is not in any danger. We just live with these things now; we don’t die from them.”

Pero shifts his weight from one foot to another.

“It is…difficult. After a lifetime of seeing people die from what starts as the smallest wound or barest cough…but I trust in your knowledge.”

“As I trust that you would do anything to keep my sister safe,” Henry returns warmly, gathering his things. “You better just hope that those protective instincts don’t drive you completely insane once you two have kids.”

Henry is out the door before Pero can think of a response.

Tessa sleeps fitfully that night, but Pero is even more restless, hyper aware of every time his love tosses and turns. Her fever breaks sometime in the early morning, and she wakes completely drenched in sweat. He helps her into the shower, settling her onto the bench on the far end of the glass-enclosed stall. She’s still paler than she should be, but her eyes when she looks up at him are clear.

A smile tugs at her lips as he gently washes her hair, then her body. His large hands remove evidence of her sickness from her skin, and the tight knot of anxiety in his chest loosens as he rubs a soapy cloth along each part of her.

“You know,” she says wryly, “under slightly different circumstances I’d be two seconds away from jumping your bones right now.”

Pero huffs at the unfamiliar phrase.

“If that means what I think it means, you have a few days at least before you are up for such things again, mi amor.”

He coaxes her to lean forward against his chest so he can wash her back.

“Pero?”

“Mm?”

She loops her arms around his neck, stilling his movements.

“I love you.”

The knot in his chest unravels.

“As I love you, angel.”

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

He pulls back to look at her.

“You do not have to thank me for such a thing, Tessa. I will always take care of you.”

She nuzzles back into his chest, fatigue starting to wear at her again.

“I’ll always take care of you too, Pero,” she mumbles sleepily into his skin. He feels it sink into his bones like a vow. He resumes his task, mindful of finishing before the water runs cold.

“I know, my love,” he whispers into her hair. “I know.”

[skyrages]

it's always been weird to me how people moralize feeling things and having actions driven from emotions rather than logic and personal ethics.

people hear "low empathy" and assume that means low-empathetic behavior: things like abuse, manipulation, and conceptualize this cold, calculating, Inherently Evil thought process, and so when someone with low empathy is convicted of a crime, I think people who think emotional empathy = emotionally intelligent behavior think of it as those "inhumane" urges breaking through this "inauthentic veneer" that's able to be dispassionately thrown aside at any convenience.

I think people who are agnostic or not incredibly religious deal with the same sort of issue, because incredibly religious Westerners think that without being afraid of some greater enacter of divine or cosmic punishment, humans descend into selfish, cannibalistic anarchy. I've never personally understood it, but I'm autistic so I don't think I can explain it to you, it's just something I've had to accept that some people think lol

the issue with all of this, of course, is that emotional empathy isn't the only kind of empathy that exists, but neuroconvergent people like to pretend it is. people who struggle with "feeling" empathy should still be able to develop logical empathy. but people who feel empathy get weird about that for some reason.

I deal with dynamic empathy, so I'll be using my own experiences when talking from here on in.

say I find out that something that I've done inadvertently hurt someone I'm close to, either socially or through work/school or whatever, and I hadn't realized it in the moment.

when I have "normal" emotional empathy, I'm able to "feel bad" which tends to translate to physical sensations of guilt, such as an unsettled stomach or sometimes my hands start sweating. I find out I hurt someone I'm close to, I "feel bad," and so I'm emotionally motivated to go to that person and apologize, make things right, explain where I was coming from, and figure out how to avoid that kind of conflict in the future.

but I have moments when I have low emotional empathy. people who don't deal with empathy issues assume that when I'm in these states, I react to the knowledge that I've hurt someone with scorn and disregard, and make no effort to right any wrongdoing, because I "don't care."

in actuality, I'm able to step back and realize, hey, that was kinda a dick move. I'm not emotionally motivated to go and make things right with the person, but I'm inclined to do so because I'm aware that, according to my equity-focused code of ethics, I did something that wasn't okay. I may not hate myself for whatever happened, but I'm still aware that, hey, this person is important to me for a variety of reasons, and even if I'm dispassionate in this moment, I know that I have reasons to care about this person that extend beyond me "feeling bad." I will still make efforts to make appropriate amends, but I might not go out of my way the way I would when I have moments of hyper-empathy and be tripping over myself with emotional guilt.

sorry if this is kind of long, but emotional vs. logical empathy is a huge thing when talking about AVPD and NPD and other such personality disorders. it's always been very strange to me that people assume that because you don't "feel" a certain way doesn't mean you don't know what's right and wrong, simply by growing up and being aware of (if separate from, for a variety of reasons) your surroundings. it's something that, again, doesn't make sense to me, but I've had to accept that some people view the world from such perspectives.

I think different ways people feel things is interesting. Anyway, I agree that judging by emotions is absurd. But I do think your logical empathy has an emotional part that you don’t really count and isn’t universal.