#those WITH context know that that organism is called a “cat”.

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

yknow I was gonna post a long incoherent rant here, but I'll just say that as someone who's worked outdoors and had to filter my own water, under the supervision of trained/lifelong professionals, as someone who almost majored in this stuff, as someone who currently works closely with the MOST "radical" of water rights activists (not on this issue, we just run in the same circles), and as someone with a basic understanding of the water cycle and the ability to look outside and observe reality

I call mega super huge BS on this post. either its outright lying, or (way more likely) lying by omission by using real scientific facts with 0 context.

how "dangerous" are these chemicals and what exactly do they do? has this been proven to affect wildlife in any way? are these chemicals present in drinking/tap water right now? "a study" seems like a reliable source, but that isnt always the case, especially re: "studies" used in headline news. I'm not in the statistics field, is there anyone who is who could tell us more about the "study" linked in the first article?

there are lots of things that are scary in the world, and many if not most of them ARE caused by human evil. before ppl reading this post spiral, think about what context is missing.

and, HUGE red flag for me: why is the first reblog someone feeling outraged and saying they need to protest and that they feel powerless/dont know what to do.... and the second reblog is OP, with a comic of a person being handed a gun.

and why does that message keep repeating throughout the thread.

I'm not anti-science. I'm DEFINITELY not "anti-leftist" or "anti-anarchist". I work regularly in radical leftist spaces irl and know people who are on domestic terrorist watchlists for their activism in Land Back and water rights movements. These spaces are the most hopeful, freeing, and welcoming places, and yes, anger IS present there, rage IS present there.

but what neither the "facts" as presented in this post, or the reactions encouraged here, are present in those spaces. so. yeah

hard side-eye

ALT

[grison-in-space]

honestly so much of the way we conceptualize autistic special interests is predicated on there not being anyone who shares them with us? and like. have you met humans. have you talked to any autistics. because lots of them are pretty interesting actually! and autistic people are often pretty good at infecting you with their interests so that you share them too even if you're not as motivated to fixate happily on them for their own sakes!

huge whorls of autistic-generated human communities exist, and people who aren't used to autistic people never seem to realize that Yes Those Are Also Autistics, often because people are used to autistic special interests occupying some very limited contexts like Computers because Computers were a big new societal innovation and community spinning up right when people also started thinking about autism as a Distinction Among Humans. Also Pokemon. And the Internet. Nineties kids know what I mean, eh?

anyway here are some heavily autistic communities that allistic people never seem to realize tend to concentrate autistics and be driven by them:

every non-commercial domestic animal fancy ever, including dog, cat, pigeon, chicken, and horse people; also includes a fair chunk of the commercial kinds but there are slightly less of these

fandom of any kind (for some reason--it's misogyny--no one seems to realize that this also applies to female-slanted forms of fandom focused on storytelling and modification as well as male-slanted ones that involve information curation)

religion. especially any kind that involves any kind of organization--less the charismatic ones that involve manipulating other people, more the kind that draw people interested in the way that religion works. less/more is not all/none.

kink and sexuality generally and also gender. we think a lot. it's a problem. and we get snagged on stuff. plus sensory shit ties into everything. just saying. e v e r y t h i n g.

academia. look we get. we get interested in things. if you get interested enough in things people call you an expert and sometimes they give you money. money is nice. it lets you buy more objects of special interest.

acting. we wear masks all the fucking time and we get caught up in it. which makes you think about structure, eh?

comedy. ditto.

building shit. admittedly the allistics have largely noticed that engineers concentrate us by now but it has taken a surprisingly long time to realize that this also applies to other, older crafts.

fibercrafts and textiles. what about "we like textures and also figuring out how things work" is a surprise to you. also math. again the answer to how the allistics keep failing to notice this one is "there's lots of ladies in there."

I bet I'm missing plenty that I'm just not thinking of but my god, man, look at how many of these things touch us! look at how they shape our understanding of one another and ourselves! how cool is that

[asses-to-ashes]

Longass post about some problematic aspects of 2000-2010 fandom, and why antis are not the solution for ongoing problems.

When people my age talk about 2000s-2010 fandom, they usually talk about it with rose-colored glasses as if it was the Golden age of fandom. I've done the same thing in some of my posts at times, and I don't necessarily see a problem with it, especially when you're discussing it under the context of the current climate of censorship and community harassment, but it's important to look back at the past objectively. When I say old fandom in this post, just know that I'm referring to 2000 to 2010.

There is a happy medium that needs to be reached between holding people accountable in fandom and avoiding censorship. The "anti" mindset goes way too far and polices how people explore fiction, but Old Fandom had its own problems with extremely poor behavior. In this essay I'm going to be exploring these problems in old fandom, the causes and solutions, why media censorship is never the answer. It's important to recognize and reflect on these things especially for people who weren't around to experience it. History repeats itself when Forgotten.

My point is not, and has never been that old fandom was worse than new fandom. My point is not that old fandom is bad at all. My point here is looking at problems, the solutions that have been made for those problems, and why they don't relate to censoring fiction at all.

I want to reiterate that I know things I'm about to discuss still happen. You do not have to comment. But it's important that we start looking objectively at Old Fandom as a wonderful, accepting but sometimes problematic (real problematic not the way antis nave coopted that word) space.

Keep in mind that this is an opinion piece. While I do provide statistics, I'm not trying to make any objective statements. My experience is probably different than yours. The experiences of my friends and my sources are probably different than yours.

With that in mind, let's get into it. Click read more for the meat of this essay

Cosplay Is Not Consent

Consent and sexual harassment have always been a huge issue within the cosplay community, there have been countless stories of women dealing with unwanted sexual advances such as touching, cat calls, kissing, and groping in convention spaces. At conventions in 2000, consent was never mentioned. With such a severe problem, the Cosplay Is Not Consent movement began.

This has been a notion that has been around for a while, been posted at some small cons as far beck as 2012. but it really only became a popularized sentiment at New York City Comic-Con 2014, where the phrase "Costumes Are Not Consent was posted publicly in the convention apace, along with a clear anti-harassment policy.

Even though research shows that most sexual harassment goes unreported, the amount of sexual harassment reports had more than halved in the first year of the visible anti-harassment signs and movement. The amount of sexual harassment cases at NYCC remained steady at "about a dozen" per year even as the number of attendees has increased from 151,000 in 2014 to more than 200,000 in 2023- A testament to the increased awareness of sexual harassment within fandom, an ongoing movement to protect attendees with anti-harassment policies.

A policy is only as good as the structure set up around that policy. An increasing number of conventions have a policy, display their policy prominently, define harassment, explain consequences, let guests know how to report harassment, and give separate protocols when convention organizers are responsible for abuse.

Now, instead of an unspoken "look the other way" policy, congoers are more likely to notice sexual harassment, come to someone's aid, and speak out. People who harass women are more likely to be kicked out of conventions and sexual harassment is more likely to be reported.

Obviously, sexual harassment and assault is still a huge problem in convention spaces, but with an increase in awareness around the issue, it's not as prominent as before.

Subsection: Yaoi Paddles, Glomping, and dangerous conduct

Reportedly first sold in 2002 at Otakon, yowie paddles are a wooden paddle with the word Yaoi burnt into the paddle end used for spanking people. They were a huge problem at conventions and caused a lot of people to be injured as a result. There were countless stories on forums about people being hit by random passerbys using a yaoi paddle, and people begged for it to be banned.

Glomping Is a running hug action that's a mix between a hug and a pounce. It was very popular in fandom, specifically around 2005 in the anime and furry fandoms. It was mostly younger people doing this and it caused a lot of people to be injured as well. Glopping incidents sometimes even included biting or groping.

Both of these behaviors were considered very poor etiquette, but were still very common in conventions. They were common enough so that even saying the words yaoi paddle or glomp to a cosplayer my age is like activating a sleeper agent. Your life flashes before your very eyes. Obviously I'm being dramatic here but it was very annoying.

Inappropriateness with Actors

In general, poor etiquette around celebrities is still a thing now. I haven't seen etiquette getting any better, so this point is less about a problem with old fandom and more about a current issue that still needs to be addressed. I'm going to be talking about real people, fan fiction and the blurred lines between characters and actors.

I'm not here to debate the ethics of "real people fiction." For those of you who don't know, RPF is a genre of fanfiction that involves real people. These people can be actors, politicians, historical figures, youtubers, really anything like that.

The problem comes from involving real actors in your fiction about them. What I mean by this is sending the actors your explicit fan fiction, or asking them inappropriate sexual questions. This is more of a problem from the early 2000's. While this does still happen now, it was really prolific in the early Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter fandoms.

Actors would frequently be invited to fan sites that had explicit RPF fanfiction. I've seen cases where actors were asked to sign copies of RPF, actors were mailed RPF, and were showed these fanfictions at meetups and conventions.

RPF never died off, and it's still a very popular genre. Between 2016 and 2017, fanfiction about real K-pop stars. Increased 10% on Tumblr. In 2015, Larry Stylinson was the number one ship on Tumblr according to Amanda Brennan, senior content insights manager at Tumblr.

Celebrities have been harassed for not following a fandom script, online shipping has led to the real life harassment of celebrities. For example, Lili Reinhart reported that her castmate was sent death threats because her character was getting in between a popular ship. This happened in 2017 and represents an ongoing problem in fandom.

Nazism and the Anime Boston Incident

I distinctly remember going to conventions when I was younger and seeing Nazi cosplayers walking around sometimes. They could be from Indiana Jones, Captain America, or whatever movie allowed them to wear that.

It wasn't until 2017 when Rose City Comic-Con updated a change to cosplay policy outlawing Nazi cosplayers including satirical or ironic cosplays which use Nazi paraphernalia or gear. Other conventions have also enacted similar cosplay bands in response to incidents such as the hello Kitty SS uniforms (yes, this is real) and cosplays of other fictional Nazis such as old school Hydra and red skull.

The most memorable incident that I distinctly saw on the internet in 2010 was the Hetalia Anime Boston Incident. For those of you who aren't familiar with hetalia, it's a series that came out in 2009 and initially took place in WWII, and each character is the humanization of a country. There is still debate on the characterization, especially regarding the character Germany- Poor guy was the cause of this specific controversy. The Italia fandom had exponential growth since 2009, and at anime Boston 2010, there was an incident regarding a hetalia photo shoot where cosplayers decided to do a Nazi salute as a joke. Even at the time, the sparked controversy on the Hetalia fandom on livejournal which is why I remember this incident so specifically. There were incidents like this beforehand, but this garnered enough attention online so that lots of photographers made it very clear that no Nazi imagery or posing was allowed.

With more restrictive policies and increased awareness, these types of cosplays became a lot less common in the west. The band are usually around Nazi iconography and symbols such as salutes and uniforms. You still see these cosplays today, such as an example from Hong Kong at Ani-com that took place this month, July 2024.

Where do antis fit in here?

I want to make it super clear that none of these major issues that I brought up here have to do with fiction. The points that are related to fiction, such as cosplaying a Nazi character or sending RPF to actors are entirely based on people's conduct in real life.

People never stopped liking characters like Red Skull, people still write about him and draw him. People should be allowed to write about characters like Red Skull and people should be allowed to like him, the issue arises when you wear a Nazi uniform in a public place.

People never stopped liking Yaoi. Little fan girls never stopped reading exactly the same stuff that I was reading at their age. The difference comes from behavior in real life.

Universally, the vast majority of fandom regardless of the time are able to separate fiction from reality. The problems were never caused by fiction, but rather people's behavior.

In order to stop people from cosplaying Nazi characters, the solution was not getting rid of all Nazi characters in media and harassing people who write about them. The solution was, very simply, to ban this kind of iconography at conventions and hold people accountable for their conduct.

Regardless of the space and the fandom, there are always going to be people who can't behave properly. There are always going to be people who don't know how to treat others. That's just the reality of looking at a group of people, some people don't have common sense. It is not the fiction that causes people to behave this way, but rather having a large group of people in a relatively new scene that hasn't established proper regulations and etiquette yet.

Allowing people to create, consume, and appreciate fiction that is not personally tasteful to you, or appropriate for some audiences, is an important part of society. It's extremely valuable to protect these freedoms, as censorship is a slippery slope.

My next essay will be about censorship in the Cold war era, McCarthyist homophobia, and why comic books were censored for having "anti-american" ideas.

Keep an eye out for that.

[alice-angel12x]

Wait.. you're telling me Epel and Death have history together?! (Well more like his ancestors-) BUT STILL

Is that why instead of being afraid when he first saw them he was impressed with their fighting abilities??

Now I need more interactions with them OR even better! Epel inviting Death to Harveston because come on! And maybe there is a legend of Death there? As the kind person who helped the small town grow and become what it is today!

Also sorry about all of this, Epel is my favourite character and your writing brings me so much joy so I'm very happy right now! :D

"You're inviting me? To what I may ask?" Y/n asked.

" I only got the news this morning too, granny is so unreasonable," Epel sighed. "There’s an annual festival in the Harveston this weekend."

"Let me take a guess. A festival in Harveston, at this time of Year... Moln Mountain’s Kelkkarotu I believe it's called," Y/n said with a slight uncertainty.

"Y-yeah how did you know?" Epel asked in surprise.

"I have been around for a very long time," Y/n answered simply.

Epel ended up inviting a few other some with great interest others, not so much. Sebek, Jade, and even Idia came along to the trip.

As soon as the cool air of Harveston hit Y/n's cold skin, a wave of memories and nostalgia washed over them. The once small town had become a thriving community.

As Epel explained the geography of the land and it's lands, and apple specialty, he noticed Y/n seemed to be off somewhere in their mind. Y/n looked on with a sense of familiarity.

Jade would question this, but Idia would reason that maybe Y/n would have come across the town before. Maybe a few times.

When Epel offered Y/n an apple fresh from harvest. They learned that Y/n Death does not Eat... Furthermore lacked organs to digest so there is no point in eating.

So Down the road to Epel's house they went. It was a beautiful cabin, fit to stand the cold weather of Harveston. Y/n hurried them don't, to get warm clothes on. Wouldn't want them to catch their death out here. Speaking of which.

"Inside the shed? Are you actually an indoor type?" Idia asked.

"No, I played outside almost every day. Even in harsh rain, I couldn’t stand still. So in those days, I’d prefer to play in the shed which it’s wider and has fewer things than in my room.  I played with the farming tools, and even made treasures and a secret base there," Epel reminisced. "  But there’s one time when I was in the shed and the snow falls down really bad… And the door of the shed was blocked by the piled snow and it couldn’t open."

" You, as a child, alone in that shed? You lack caution as a mere human," Sebek gasped.

"And even if I shouted or banged my hand on the door, nobody noticed. It kept getting colder, and I was getting hungry… it was so bad that time," Epel reminisced.

"Then how did you manage to get out of the shed?" Jade asked. Epel thought for a moment and smiled.

"Well need a bit more context for that story. Which we will find in the center of town," Epel said mysteriously.

"Oh, alright. Hold on to your mystery for now," Jade chuckled

So Epel leads the group to the center of town. to get to the hall and to meet his grandmother Malya.

When Epel and his grandma chatted, the others were completely lost on what they were saying. As the two talk in their native dialect. But Y/n was happy to translate for them.

As the boys choose the fabrics that would be used to make their plushie sled pullers. Grim being Grim got hungry again and wanted more sweet apples.

As he scanned for unattended food and saw a treasure trove of some. At the base of some state were the biggest, ripest, ruby-colored apples he had ever seen. He's never seen such perfect apples.

As Grim made a mad dash towards them, he suddenly slammed face-first into a shovel. Grim hissed and looked up to see an old man glaring down at him.

The old man began to scold the fire cat, catching the attention of the NRC boys, and Epel's grandmother. Y/n apologized on Grim's behalf.

The NRC boys were wondering why he was so angry. So Epel explained the significance of the statue.

"This is the state of Harveston's Founder. When our ancestors were in a hard place, the founder came across them and lead them here. Were they would teach and raise the orphans to survive here," Epel said.

The boys looked up at the Statue. It was of a familiar figure, in one hand they held a lantern above their head. Lighting the path in front of them, while in the other held a baby close to their chest. Behind the founder were three children huddled up close to them. One was looking behind in fear, the middle one simply hugged close, and the last one looked up at the found in awe.

What they noticed was that hand holding the lantern, looked like it was broken long ago.

"Oh, Epel. What happened to the statue's hand?" Jade asked.

"Yeah, did the hand used to hold the lantern? Cause the drilled-in hook looks strange," Idia added.

"Oh, that's was the founder's doing," grandma Malya laughed.

"The founder's...doing?" Sebek asked skeptically.

"Yes, even all these the founder's spirit has always been watching over us. We've noticed their spirit loves taking their lantern and putting it in places to signify their presence," The old man spoke. "And even before that the people of this town pick their best apple from their harvest. And place it at the base to pay respects."

"What a kind spirit," Y/n commented.

"Indeed, you could ask any local here and they would have a story to tell about their encounters. Even Epel, when was trapped in the shed when he was younger," Grandma Malya chuckled.

"Oh yeah, that story. Epel you never finished that story," Grim said.

"Oh yeah. When I was freezing, I suddenly felt this warmth. Not in the hypothermia kind of way, but like there was a small fire nearby. And I remember hearing someone," Epel explained.

"Heard someone?" Jade asked.

"Yeah, they were whispering encouragements and telling me I just needed one more push to open the door. And I did, with one of the tools I managed to free myself," Epel smiled.

"Ah yes, and when we finally found Epel. My son, Epel's father, saw something in the shed," Grandma Malya smiled. "It was the founder's lantern, once again in a place where it wasn't meant to be."

Soon Malya had to go make the sled Plushies, and Y/n opted to help her. While the boys looked up at the statue.

"hey, you know. This founder statute looks a lot like Y/n" the fire cat commented.

Epel's went wide and he looked at the statue to Y/n and repeated 2 more times.

"No...No... It... They can't be right?" Epel gasped.

___________________________________________________________

Part 2? Maybe. well, see.

[walder-138]

Hello dear, take your time with this, I know finding the energy to write can be tough, so there is absolutely no pressure to answer this ask straight away. I'm just putting these here as food for thought, something to chew on! <3 remember to take care of yourself!

For Annika:

🎲 - Biological parents

👑 - Person who raised your OC and/or was important during their formative years

🐾 - Pets (if she doesn't have one, then answer as if she could what kind of pet would she have)

For Zach and Ester:

💋 - First kiss

🌹 - First relationship

💔 - Exes

Like I say, take your time, there's no rush at all <3

Hey Goose! Thank you so much for the ask and the message ❤️- I’ve had a random burst of motivation so hopefully I can type this out before it ends up dying away!

🎲- Supposedly (ifykyk) Annika’s biological parents were Marina Ilyinichna Kucherova and Nikolai Mikhailovich Vublevski. Her mother was one of Nikolai’s informants in the KGB; they had no bond or emotional connection and were simply just two people who banged and had Annika.

Marina told Nikolai to either handle the kid or she’d rat him out. Whether that entailed killing it or whatever the fuck else, Marina didn’t care. Annika’s existence had ruined her life apparently; the pregnancy had been very difficult and caused irreversible harm to her body.

Nikolai didn’t wanna get everything he worked for shat on, so he took the wretched thing. Annika screamed and cried all the time and Nikolai had no clue what she wanted; he’d never wanted to become a father, never had any siblings or really known anyone with kids.

With how much she got on Nikolai’s nerves, Annika’s shocked he didn’t wind up killing her.

👑- The person who “raised” Annika during her formative years, and the only adult she had a positive experience with, wound up being her first kill.

There were several people who ‘raised’ Annika as a child. None of them stuck around long enough or really cared too much about her; she was more of a nuisance/chore girl for them. They’d tell her to sneak drugs, weapons, etc past police to get her out of their way. Nobody would suspect a child to be carrying all that shit, right?

For context: the organization that Nikolai ran was funded by the CIA and MI6, as he was trying to overthrow the Soviet government.

When Annika was about 6/7, MI6 sent someone to go in undercover. Former Special Forces guy, a father of 4. She knew very little about him, just that he was called Petr. That wasn’t his real name, but Annika never learned what his real name was. She didn’t see him as frequently as she should’ve, but ‘Petr’ genuinely cared for her. He planned on taking Annika to the UK to get the fuck away from Nikolai and those disgusting individuals he let his daughter be around.

‘Petr’ got too attached to Annika. He started slipping and screwing up his mission. Helping Nikolai, while he’s treating his daughter like less than a worm filled him with guilt every time he looked at either of them. So he fumbled. I haven’t thought about how yet, but bro dropped the ball.

When Nikolai found out about his status as a spy, the relationship he formed with the US and UK governments went out the window. Knowing how close Annika was to the man, he decided to use this situation as a lesson. She was 9, and with Nikolai’s hands keeping her steady, she put a bullet in Petr’s head as he kneeled in front of her.

🐾- Annika loves all animals. Dogs, cats, raccoons, lizards, bugs, leeches; she thinks they all deserve comfort and love. She doesn’t prefer any kind of pet over another, and if you gave her any pet, she’d happily take it. However, due to ‘work’, Annika doesn’t want to keep any pets, as she thinks she’ll end up neglecting them or if she dies on a mission there will be nobody to take care of them.

Honestly, if Annika was capable of living a good life, she would definitely be either a veterinarian or work at an animal shelter.

💋- Ester’s first kiss was after a show. It was with her fellow bandmate and the lead singer. He was way too old for her (17 and 29 😬), but she thought she was hot shit when they kissed for the first time. More information on this shit fest coming soon.

🌹- It was the guy I just mentioned. He ended up ruining her life, which caused her to join the Marines.

Ester was desperate for the approval of an older man since her dad died, and she found it difficult to find it in a healthy way. But that creep love bombed the shit out of her and she ate it all up. Praised Ester’s ability on the drums, gave her money, and spoiled her with gifts.

She started putting everything aside for the bastard. Her grades started slipping and she pushed away her real friends.

Ester ended up clocking that guy in the jaw when he kept trying to initiate sex with her despite her saying no. She realized the guy wanted her as a groupie and not an actual partner, and left the band on the spot.

This all lead up to her joining the Marines. Ester thought everyone hated her, she was “too stupid” for college, so… she shaved off all her hair and followed after Zach.

💔- The first guy and Philip Graves. Her relationship with Graves wasn’t serious, and she noticed she was slipping into her old habits again, so they mutually broke up. There’s no bad blood between them.

She also had a lot of flings with both men and women until she got the scars, but none of them meant anything.

💋- Zach’s first kiss was between him and a girl in his class back in high school. He was really bad at it apparently so she never wanted to do it again. Safe to say he got better, Steph can vouch for that 😉

🌹- Zach’s first relationship was with another soldier named Maxine Cain. They were in love with each other; they were even engaged, planning on getting married when their contracts expired with the Marines.

Cain was in Ester’s platoon, and the two meet after Ester decided Zach needed to start seeing women. He had no rizz, she had no rizz, they belonged together so she set the two up. They clicked almost immediately and the rest was history.

They were together for a long time, though they occasionally broke up due to work.

💔- Cain was the only person Zach was with before Steph.

She was killed by the Taliban. Her full body was never recovered, but Zach ended up finding her head and some of her limbs.

She is his most frequent and least hostile hallucination.

[waitmyturtles]

Okay. The Promise IS REALLY GOOD, SO GOOD, SO GOOD! Gah, I am SO happy I picked this up.

Episode 3: we still don’t have a read on what separated Phu from Nan for 10 years. However, a few notes on why this episode was the best yet so far, despite not getting that juice yet. Some quick notes first, and then big thoughts (and I have a couple of coffee notes as a postscript):

I should have realized this earlier, but I think one reason why I’m loving this show so far is because, while much of the show is flashbacks, our two mains are in their early-going-into-their-mid-30s, and much of the show happens in the context of their professional pursuits. As an #old, me likey -- I always love generational shifts in dramas, and I definitely need more dramas with older folk. 

The sponsorship of this show is so wild, but honestly, I’m not kidding, I kinda think it works (listen, it looks like UMG’s only sponsor is for for CANNED MACKEREL, so like, how they’re going to weave CANNED MACKEREL in the show will be VERY INTERESTING, and I’m NOT looking forward to it). Why does this Devonte Men skincare framework shit work?

Because: this episode focused on Nan as a professional. And I LOVED IT. In his personal life, Nan’s a mess. Before Phu came back, he had trouble sleeping, his house was in disarray. During college, he needed to rely on Phu to keep track of his classes. Phu keeps Nan in check -- he encourages Nan to keep fit, Phu keeps Nan organized.

But in the office? We see that at least in this episode, Nan’s a G, a confident one, too. I can’t wait to get @respectthepetty‘s read on Nan’s red suit vs. the blue suit at the end, but I totally felt the red rascal vibe on Nan for the first three quarters of the show. Nan owned everything! He HUSTLED and GOT THE COFFEE SHOP FOR PHU. He nailed the first presentation with boss Ken. Nan was faltering a touch at the end, but HIS bro (not anyone else’s bro) came thru with the product samples and the dimples. Nan makes shit happen professionally -- for himself, for his team, for Phu. We didn’t get quite that strong sense during the first two episodes, but this episode clearly defined what Nan can do STRONGLY in his life. He’s not a total hot mess. 

I LOVED THIS. We know we need to learn about Phu, but Uncle Tong Khom Kongkiat is out here telling us -- there’s a story, a big story, about Nan, too, that I need to tell y’all, so that y’all have the full context you need to understand what’s happening between these two. 

And that’s why those small flashbacks to Chiang Mai and to Nan’s dad were really important. Phu and Nan, Nan and Phu -- they’ve balanced each other out for their lives. They clearly exist in an equilibrium when they’re together, and it’s so lovely to watch. I looooved that tingle of jealousy at Joe’s club, and then the ride home. It sizzled. 

When Phu was out of Nan’s life, Nan was unbalanced. I think episode 3 makes sense as Nan’s presence as a professional is depicted as so strong, because Phu is back in his life, and Nan is back in balance. 

I THINK THIS SHOW IS SO GREAT. (I totally don’t mind the whole weaving-in of the sponsorship thing. They make it work.) 

****

Okay, quick SE Asian food/coffee thoughts (y’all know I love the food context), because I actually think they’re important to the show. I could maybe make a separate post about this, à la khao man gai, but let me just put this down first. Coffee is VERY important to this show, clearly.

Oliang means coffee! Oliang is specifically Thai black iced coffee, according to Wikipedia. Man, my heart. I love that Nan named his cat Oliang. A way to honor how he missed Phu, the coffee guy, before Phu came back.

Okay, I don’t know that much about this, but it seems that a common way to brew coffee in Thailand is to brew it with spices, which, GAH, YUM. (I once had a drink here in the States called “Bangkok iced coffee,” which was cardamom-infused coffee with half-and-half and condensed milk. GOOD LORD.) Check the Wikipedia article for the different styles of iced coffee you can get in Thailand -- oh my fucking god, YUM.

Alright, kopi. (Peep the definition for Thai kopi in the oliang article linked above.) I love that Thai and Malay both share a same word for kopi, although Malaysian/Singaporean kopi looks like it’s slightly different than in Thailand, because there are many styles of “kopi” in M’sia/SG that don’t necessarily come with condensed milk. Take a look at this list on the Malaysian/Singaporean kopi Wikipedia page. 

I also don’t *think* that Malaysian/Singaporean kopi is boiled with spices (if they don’t mind the tag, my SE Asian homies @telomeke and @tireddddddddddddddd-d might know -- apologies for tagging you if you’re not watching The Promise, but kopi question over here! Is Malaysian/Singaporean kopi ever boiled with spices, as it seems to be in Thailand?)

If you’re a coffee nerd: note that in the Malaysian/Singaporean style of kopi, that the beans are roasted with salt, sugar, and margarine. There’s a style of coffee in M’sia called Ipoh white coffee, which is my personal fave, super strong, and seriously divine, if you ever get your hands on it. It’s famous in part for that roasting in margarine.

It seems that, according to the kopi Wiki article, that the kind of Thai kopi that Nan and Phu drink was actually historically inspired by the Malaysian/Singaporean way of roasting and brewing hot coffee. So putting it all together, the Thai kopi that Nan and Phu have seems to be the hot spiced coffee with condensed milk, which must be just HEAVENLYYYYYYY. Gah. (And I love love love how they reference it as “old-school coffee.” A throwback to their rural childhood.) (I am sure many of y’all have had strong Vietnamese coffee, which is also black coffee with condensed milk.)

ANYWAY. Coffee/kopi culture is big in this region, and so worth nerding out about! Anytime I can get my hands on Malaysian kopi/white coffee, I get it, and I’m certainly going to keep my eyes peeled for Thai coffee preparations now. If I’m ever lucky to get my hands on a cup of old-school Thai kopi, I’ll report back on how awesome I know it will be. 

[revelationschapter6]

cinnamon and myrrh

Events: Sicktember, Whumptember, Bad Things Happen Bingo

Prompts:

Desperate measures

Head lolling

Coughing fit

Preventative Measures (Not taken)

Side effects/Adverse reaction

Uncooperative Patient

Confused

Disoriented

Hurts to Breathe

Warnings:

implications of depression

This fill is written as a one-shot of my original story, Saudade. You can find my info page for Saudade here.

What context you need to read this is:

In Saudade, the Archangel Raphael Fell during the Rebellion. It was a misunderstanding that spiraled out of control, and he was thrown out by four angels while his partner, the Power Camael, tried to help him.

The angels who didn't Fall were made to forget those who did. They don't remember they ever knew them. As far as they know, all the Fallen were on the fringes of Heaven's society. If they asked around, they might go, "Wait, no one knew a Fallen?" But they Don't Ask Questions.

Raphael worked to gain Camael's trust again, and eventually won it. Camael learned he did, in fact, know Raphael before the Fall by regaining a memory, and convinced Raphael's siblings to hear him out. Now they're trying to figure out WTF to do.

Who, in their right mind, burns myrrh for funsies? Humans, apparently. And in the middle of the holiday season no less, so the smell of it is covered up by the reek of all that damn cinnamon. Raphael really should have learned by now. Whumptember: Desperate measures, head lolling Sicktember: Coughing fit, Preventative Measures (Not Taken), Side Effects/Adverse Reaction, Uncooperative Patient, Confused, Disoriented Bad Things Happen Bingo: hurts to breathe

can be read on AO3 or below the cut

Raphael watched the little blurs that were the light-up battery-powered fish in his fish tank.

When he’d moved into this apartment, he’d thought about getting a cat. But they had such short lifespans compared to his. It just wasn’t worth getting attached. Dogs were the same. Rodents were even worse. It felt like they barely took a breath before dying. It was nearly impossible to find an apartment that would allow a bird, though even they didn’t live terribly long in the span of his life, and he hated turtles.

A hellish animal might have been an option, but he didn’t like any of them. Hellcats, with their too many tails, disturbed him greatly and brought to mind Kitsune, who he didn’t want to think of as he cleaned a litter box. (Their litter boxes had a nasty habit of bursting into flames, besides.) Hellhounds came in every shape and breed of dog, but being around Lilith’s was enough. He didn’t have nearly enough water to keep an ahuizotl, and he already had plenty of nightmares without inviting in a Pesanta.

So, finally, he’d bought a fish tank and some light-up, battery-powered fake fish and been quite happy with them.

Through the poorly insulated walls of his apartment, he could make out general merriment. Carolers on the street, the buzz of countless lights, cheerful voices. Could smell pine from pine trees, burning gingerbread from a few doors down, and tried not to cough at the thickness of cinnamon in the air. It had been strong for days, no matter where he went. Cinnamon brooms lingered on his neighbors’ doorsteps, and it seemed every shop he passed was cluttered with them.

He’d never liked Christmas, not really. Though the Giant Lantern Festival was beautiful, he’d admit that, and he always had fun trying to burn the Gävle Goat. Any Fallen loved Krampusnacht, none more so than Krampus himself. But Christmas was a time for those with friends and family. He might have called Maalik a friend once, but he was long dead. Lilith and Lethe, perhaps, but they were busy doing their own things, and they saw each other only every few decades, besides. He still wasn’t sure if he could call Samyaza a friend.

And he certainly had no family.

He had Camael back, somewhat. But Camael, though he knew now, didn’t remember, surely wasn’t willing to spend a holiday with him. And Gabriel and Michael still looked half-ready to run him through if he sneezed wrong, though they knew too.

So he hadn’t even bothered to ask.

Raphael sighed, trying to tune out the music his neighbors were listening to: the one above him was listening to some caterwauling cover of All I Want for Christmas is You, the one below him Last Christmas, to the right a pop cover of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (why?), and to the left Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer (again, why?). He could make out the neighbors further down the hall, but it all clashed together into raucous noise.

He rolled over, stretching out on his bed. It smelled far better than the cloying cinnamon. Though lingering sulfur and rain-dampened dirt weren’t exactly appealing either.

It wasn’t Christmas Day or Eve. At least, he didn’t think so.

He couldn’t hear wrapping paper tearing—well, that was a lie. The gender-optional tenant three doors down was wrapping gifts it sounded like—or smell ham or turkey or baking cookies.

Then again, he’d slept for quite a while, so he couldn’t be certain. He’d only gotten up long enough to duck into the corner store and wolf down the taquitos whose wrappers lay crumpled on his nightstand.

Raphael clutched his pillow, curling up. Hell, but he was tired. He’d slept the better part of the last two days, and still, he was exhausted.

So what was the harm in sleeping? It wasn’t as if he’d miss anything.

His phone rang, and he grumbled. Blearily, he thought that he needed to take it into the store to get it looked at because the voice announcing the caller was so muffled that he couldn’t make out what it said. Raphael reached for it, fumbling, but it was out of his reach, and he was still so tired.

If it was important, whoever it was could leave a voicemail.

Someone banged on his door, and he groaned. Did they have to be so loud? He could hear the door rattling in the frame. It was probably someone looking for the man down the hall. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had someone knock on his door by mistake, so he didn’t feel sorry that he didn’t even open his eyes.

There were voices, and he felt he should wake up. Because sleeping while someone was near him was never a good thing, barring a few people. And those weren’t Lethe or Lilith’s voices. He could tell. But his bed was so warm, the blankets so soft and comfortable, so surely he could sleep a few minutes more?

Besides, those voices felt safe. What was the harm?

Hands—cold hands, familiar, rough hands, though who they belonged to escaped him at the moment—grabbed and shook him. He wanted to tell them to let him sleep—even with their hands on him, he felt leaden—but his voice wilted and died in his throat before he could make a sound.

The voice called his name again, and two more hands, rougher and larger, joined the first.

His name was called again, this time by a voice deeper than the one before, and the hands became so rough that his head rolled on his pillow. It was irritating, and he tried again to tell them to leave him be. But his voice died, and his eyelids were so heavy that he couldn’t even glare at them to go away. His breath hitched, as sluggish as the rest of him, and struggled in his throat.

Raphael felt that should have worried him, but he was too comfortable and tired to care.

The hands went away, and he was grateful. Now, surely they’d leave him alone? Whatever they needed couldn’t be that important. It could wait.

Surely, they’d finally let him sleep.

A pair of hands slid under him, separating his head from his pillow and awkwardly gripping the underside of his knees. He shivered as he was torn away from the warmth of his blankets, the cold biting into him worse than the blizzards of Cocytus. A complaint started, then died, in his throat. His head lolled back, his neck arched painfully, and while one arm had been scooped up so it rested on his stomach, the other dangled uncomfortably.

The person carrying him moved jerkily, jolting him violently, even as they rubbed their thumbs along his skin as if to try to warm him. They came to an abrupt stop, and he tried to open his eyes. Some part of him was alarmed when he couldn’t get them to respond, but he was too tired to get anxious.

One hand came up to cradle the back of his head as he was made to stand. Well, stand by the faintest gasp of the word. If it wasn’t for the hand, or the body he was propped against, he surely would have collapsed. His feet tingled differently than usual, more numb than throbbing or sensitive. Even when he tried to make them, his knees wouldn’t support his weight. The person behind him, a sturdy wall, held him carefully upright. Raphael felt he should recognize them, if not from everything else than from their height, his head coming up to their chest from the feel of it as it lolled on his irritatingly unresponsive neck.

The first, smaller pair of hands, fingers slimmer than the ones holding him, tugged off his sweats, boxers, and nightshirt. Some part of him felt he should cover himself, like there was something he needed to hide, that he despised, tried to never let anyone see, and was forgetting.

But that would mean moving, which he didn’t think he could do even if he tried. His arms were so heavy, and was it really so bad if they saw it?

He lost time.

And then he was scalding, dragged beneath a spray of water. He gasped through a barely open mouth, his breath rasping loudly in his throat, then started to cough violently.

Were they trying to drown him?

A heave ran through him as he coughed, desperate for breath he didn’t actually need, feeling as though he were fighting to breathe through wet cloth. One of the hands, the one with the thicker fingers, caught his chin and squeezed the joints of his jaw. He tried to jerk back and felt like he was back in Boston, struggling to wade through molasses. His body wouldn’t listen to him, every moment slow and faltering, a twitch of a movement if he managed to move at all.

"Shit, he’s covered in it."

Raphael retched as a wet finger pressed down on his tongue, sweeping along his throat. It was a horrible feeling, but when the finger drew out, he could finally breathe. He coughed harshly, gulping air down greedily.

His fingers twitched, and the hand on the back of his head tightened in his hair to keep him from doubling over. He could taste rotten sulfur, his throat stinging as he struggled to get his coughing under control. There wasn’t an inch of his skin that hadn’t begun to tingle unpleasantly, bordering on a faint burn.

The smaller set of hands left his skin, replaced a moment later by a washcloth. The tingling quickly built to a burn, and as energy began to return to his limbs, he struggled weakly. Being pinned had never resulted in anything good, and slowly awareness was filtering to him; he shouldn’t be so confused and so tired; he should have been wide awake long before they’d made it into his apartment. He’d never known the touch of holy water, but having water flow over his body just before he began to burn did not bode well.

The arms tightened around him, and a familiar voice grunted as he managed to brace one foot on the slippery tile and drive the heel of the other into the shin of the person behind him.

"Stop fighting us, dammit!"

Wait—he did know that voice. Now that it didn’t sound so far away, so muffled, he did know that voice. And those hands felt familiar, as did the body behind him. And now, with the insulated walls of the shower between him and that awful, seeping cinnamon scent, he could make out the strong bite of petrichor.

He forced his eyes open, though they were very reluctant. His vision swam, eyes stinging, and they’d only open a slit. But even through a film of silver tears, he’d know that angel anywhere. She was too close for him to make out her features, but even darkened and flattened to her scalp by water, that red hair was unmistakeable.

"M’ch’l?" His tongue was slow, heavy, and unresponsive in his mouth. Just that word, if you could call it a word, made him cough again, tearing at his throat. He whimpered, and the angel behind him held him up when the force of it tried to bend him over. Ichor sprayed, foul and thick, across his tongue. Before he could do anything, Camael reached up and swiped his fingers across his tongue and throat. Raphael retched, but strangely, his throat hurt far less.

"Shut up," she snapped as he panted, stooping and running the washcloth down his legs.

"You’re a real idiot, you know," she said as she straightened.

"Wh-?" He cleared his throat, trying to get his voice to obey him. His voice sounded ridiculous, slurring and rough. "Why?"

Finally, he got his legs to support him, though they shook violently. Still, when Camael pushed him forward and Michael pulled him towards her, he went easily. He slumped, head resting on her shoulder, letting her take most of his weight. Behind him, Camael wiped him down with quick, rough movements. His skin burned, too sensitive, under the touch of the rag, and he whined as his hands and feet began to sting. He hadn’t even realized how numb they’d gone, but now that they felt as if they were being lanced with needles, he wished they’d go back to being numb.

Camael knelt, pushing him so he put more of his weight on Michael, and pulled up his foot. He did cry out, then. They were always either sensitive or numb, but the feel of the rag was agony. Then he began to cough again, struggling against the burn in his chest. Each small gasp of breath he managed to get only fueled the burn, and he sobbed.

"Sorry, sorry," Camael muttered, hurrying to finish. The other foot hurt just as badly, if not more, and it was only because Michael braced herself that they weren’t both taken to the ground when his leg gave out.

"Close your eyes," Camael said, and then Michael guided him to stand upright and bend over. He wheezed, beginning to cough again, wrinkling his nose at the foul taste of sulfur. When the stream of water was aimed at his hair, he flinched, so Michael brought one hand up to cover his eyes. Hands ran roughly through his hair, tugging at tangles, Camael murmuring apologies every time he tugged roughly at his scalp.

"Is that all of it?" Camael asked, helping him to stand upright. He wavered, blinking blearily at Michael as he struggled to catch his breath.

The burning was starting up again in his throat, and he managed to say "All of-" before it irritated his throat so badly that he started to cough again. When the force of it, pain shooting through his upper back, threatened to take him to the ground, Camael held him upright. Heat filled his mouth, and he tasted sulfur as the water shut off.

"Don’t let him get any on his skin," Camael said as Michael pressed the cloth to his mouth.

"I know," she scowled. "Next time he can catch his breath, hold his head up and his mouth open."

It felt like ages as he coughed. His throat and chest burned, and tears trickled down his face. Camael slid one hand up to rest over his racing heart, Michael replacing his grip on Raphael’s arm with her own.

Finally, he was able to take a breath. It wasn’t much, but for a moment, he could stop coughing. His breath whistled in his throat, an awful sound that set his teeth on edge. Camael grabbed his jaw, making him tilt his head back, then, as gently as he could, squeezed the joints of his jaw.

Raphael coughed, jerking awkwardly at the angle his throat was forced to. He didn’t struggle as Camael lowered him, and Michael stood on the tips of her toes. She raised her hand, and Raphael’s instincts screamed as divinity spiked strongly in the air. Gold-tinged smoke trickled from his mouth as Michael pinched the air, then pulled back. There was an awful tugging feeling in his chest before the burning flared. He struggled against Camael’s pinning grip, but as the agonizing burn rose through his throat, his chest stopped hurting.

With a gasp, he began to gulp down air. Each breath came easier than the last, the burn moving to his tongue, then gone completely. Camael loosened his grip, letting him slump against him as he gasped for breath. Camael was saying something. He could tell by the vibrations of his chest against his back, and maybe Michael was, too. But his heart raced loudly in his ears, and he couldn’t hear anything else. He twisted, spitting ichor into the drain.

Michael stepped out of the shower, and scooping Raphael up, Camael followed.

Please tell me I’m not naked.

Michael looked away as she grabbed a towel. "Can you stand?"

He cleared his throat, basking in being able to breathe. "Y-yeah," he said, though he wasn’t really sure. Camael carefully set him down, making sure he could take his own weight before releasing him.

Raphael hadn’t known this Camael could be so gentle or kind. He wished he’d been aware enough to enjoy it.

Hands shaking, he took the towel she offered. His head was still a bit foggy, the world moving slowly around him, but now he could feel the alarm he should have felt before creeping up on him.

"How dumb are you?" Michael asked as he toweled himself dry before he could ask what the hell had happened. It was only as he carefully picked up a foot to towel it dry, leaning into Camael’s supporting hand, seeing the discolored flesh that went up nearly to his knee, that his heart dropped into his stomach.

His glamors.

He wasn’t wearing his glamors.

They’d have seen the discolorations for sure, and they certainly would have felt them. It was a miracle he hadn’t, in his daze, brought out his spines.

The thought made him feel ill.

And–his eyes. His eyes didn’t have the reassuring, faint warmth of his glamor, the one he applied without thought the moment he woke. That glamor—they'd have seen his eyes; they’d have seen those monstrous eyes. How had Michael stomached seeing them?

He took deep breaths, reveling in them, and answered her. "I don’t know... I don’t even know what happened." Frantically, he tried to call up the glamor. It was child’s play—something he could do when bleeding and half-dead. But his power, usually burning and riotous, was barely more than a smolder in his chest. His eyes remained unchanged.

"Myrrh," she said as she walked out of the bathroom, speaking over her shoulder as he tied the towel around his waist. Camael helped him follow on shaky legs. "You got yourself covered from head to toe in myrrh." When he walked into the rest of the apartment, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The entire place smelled like ozone, divinity sparking along his skin.

Michael rummaged through his dresser, pulling out a shirt and tossing it to him once he’d sat on the edge (well, his bed was round, so it didn’t have edges) of his bed. It had been stripped down to the mattress, and the rough mattress itched his sensitive skin.

"And inhaled it," Camael added as he pulled the shirt on. He sounded pissed, and Raphael cringed. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"I didn’t mean to," Raphael protested as he wriggled awkwardly into a pair of shorts that landed in his lap. He mourned his boxers but would rather that Michael didn’t go into his underwear drawer. Remembering the days of robes and little else, then the days of kaunakes, which covered even less, he wondered when he’d become so prudish. What Fallen would mean to inhale myrrh? "Who burns myrrh anymore?"

Michael wasn’t far enough away for him to make out her expression, but he was fairly certain she was looking to Heaven for strength.

He didn’t need to look to know that Camael was rolling his eyes. "I’m serious," Raphael said. "I haven’t been able to smell anything but cinnamon for weeks. You think I’d’ve stuck around if I smelled myrrh?"

Of all the things hellish beings were weak to—blessed objects, certain sacred symbols and objects, holy water, purified salt, consecrated ground, certain sigils and runes, among other things—Raphael found myrrh the most insidious. Sacred symbols and objects you could avoid; you had to touch them, usually, to be harmed by them. Pick them up or have them thrown at you. They were only dangerous if they touched bare skin. Any hellish being knew well what those tended to be. Blessed objects were more dangerous; anything could be blessed. Sacred symbols and objects counted among blessed objects, like crosses, ushabti, and holy books. But it was entirely possible to rummage through a pile of clothing and find a blessed shirt. Sigils and runes had to be carved or painted, and were far less reliable. They were so finicky that a shaky hand or a shed eyelash in the wrong spot could ruin the entire thing. They were usually best at keeping hellish beings out, or he’d have considered them much worse. But if someone knew what they were doing, they could make the barrier far more dangerous, even lethal. The ones he’d painted around his cave served as an electric fence, although he’d seen an imp fried to ash when it insisted on continuing to try to come in. Once, though, he’d seen a demon walk over an intricate rune set, unaware, and be instantly and mercilessly erased from existence.

Consecrated ground, well. Raphael, personally, hated consecrated ground after spending years recovering from a run-in with it. But provided you weren’t him and weren’t foolish with it, it wasn’t too much of a danger. Consecrated ground was almost always a holy building, religious or spiritual retreat, sacred grove, or sacred site. So long as you avoided those, you were just fine. That wasn’t a hard rule—he was still deeply confused by a six-inch-by-six-inch patch he’d found deep in Baikunthapur Forest—but it was a safe one to live by. And, if you were unlucky enough to find some random patch, you just had to step off of it.

It was only when you stayed standing on it that it started to eat away at your being.

Purified salt, unless consumed, was only really useful for making a salt circle. If it touched the skin, it acted as a bit of an irritant, but when consumed in large amounts, it became an anticoagulant. ‘Large amounts’ being the key word; it diluted in drinks, and any amounts that would be dangerous to a hellish being made food noticeably salty. And holy water—well, any self-respecting hellish being feared holy water, especially with people carrying it around now. You never knew how pure it would be, whether it was just tap water with a prayer said over it by some human or water properly blessed by an angel. The former, a Fallen or demon would have to be dunked in or guzzle to be killed by, and it would be a long, drawn-out, preventable death. Otherwise, it hurt like hot oil.

Not pleasant, but better than the latter. The latter was like acid; a few drops would eat away at your skin, but any significant amount was liable to outright dissolve you away.

Myrrh, though. In its natural state, it was harmless. He could hold it with his bare hands if he wanted to. But when burned, which humans had taken to doing, it became smoke. And it was the smoke that was so dangerous. That it had such a strong, distinct scent meant it was one of the easier dangers to avoid. Still, if, somehow, you breathed it—perhaps being a new demon, or a Fallen with little experience of Creation—it settled in your lungs, clinging to your throat. Often, it coated your skin as well, if you were unlucky enough to be too close. It ate away at you slowly, siphoning away your power. This made you tired, too dazed to register that something was wrong. If you fell asleep, you never woke up again.

Raphael remembered how groggy he’d felt, how tired and listless, so certain that it would be no harm at all just to go back to sleep. How he hadn’t cared though there’d been hands on him, strangers (or so they’d seemed at the time) crowded around him while he was vulnerable. If that had happened in Hell...

He shivered.

Michael had been talking, and he quickly scrubbed his hair dry, trying to pretend he’d been listening.

"–lucky we found you when we did!"

"I know," he said. There were so many ways he was lucky, as much as he sometimes thought himself otherwise. When it mattered, he was damn lucky.

"Really," Camael said behind him, his voice soft. "You were almost dead, Raphael. If we had waited a few hours–"

Raphael was startled when Camael’s voice hitched. And, he realized, Michael’s had sounded decidedly rattled. They cared. He barely managed to keep from smiling, as inappropriate as that would be. They still didn’t remember him. Camael hadn’t told him what he’d seen, but he’d seen a memory, or more than one. Enough to know he had known him once. That, for all these years, Raphael hadn’t been lying. He didn’t know the depth of their relationship, but that was fine. Gabriel and Michael, through Camael, had come to accept that they’d known him as well.

It was hard to deny, especially once he showed them their feathers on his necklace and that his were on their jewelry. He couldn’t fake the feathers on his necklace. They shed feathers, sure. But the feathers on his necklace sparked with their divinity—the remnants of when they’d shrunk them, solidifying them so they wouldn’t be ruined in his day-to-day. There wasn’t any of his foul power on them.

Right, his power. It was a bit of a struggle, but after a moment, he managed to pull a glamor over his eyes. He’d done his best not to look them in the eye, but they’d certainly noticed something was off, even if they’d been distracted when they’d seen it.

How they hadn’t realized they had his feathers—well, he had his suspicions. They’d worn them since before Creation, and that was a very long time not to question the seemingly random feathers they shared. Then again, there were so many things that didn’t make sense that no one in Heaven, it seemed, had questioned.

His necklace-! He reached for his throat, fumbling where the cold chain always was. He’d only taken it off once since they’d given it to him, when he’d handed it to Michael to prove he really did have their feathers. But his neck was bare, and, to his horror, so was his wrist. Camael’s bracelet was gone, too.

"Here." Michael’s voice was undeniably strangled. When he looked at her, he sighed in relief. A little smear of gold and what looked to be a miniscule streak of the same with three white blobs dangling from it hung from her hand. They reeked of ozone, and divinity brushed against his skin when he took them.

"We-"

"We?"

"Michael banished your bedding. It had myrrh all over it." Raphael had liked that bedding. "Your clothes too. She cleaned everything. We didn’t want to risk missing some."

"When did you manage to do that?" He gaped at Michael. Everything between falling asleep and Camael washing his hair was blurry, with massive blank spots. Still, he was fairly certain there hadn’t been a moment when she wasn’t there.

Camael took the clasp he’d been struggling with, ignoring his startled flinch, and fastened his necklace for him. Feeling was still coming back to his extremities, and he felt rather fumbly.

"Right after I took off your clothes," she said plainly. Raphael was sure he turned an impressive silver as he remembered her stripping him under the water, Camael holding up his dead weight. She was his sister, but still. He’d have been just as embarrassed if it were Gabriel. Hell, Camael being there was almost as embarrassing.

…wow, he really had become a prude.

"I did it all at the same time. It’s not that hard if you’re doing all the room at once. Though, uh," she sounded sheepish. He remembered the way she’d avert her eyes when embarrassed, dark skin taking on a twinkling gold glint. "I might have been a bit overzealous. Some of those lights went out… and I might have vanished some of your towels."

That did not surprise him. You didn’t have to put much thought into using power—or divinity, as the case might be—but the less you focused, the more mistakes it might make or the more liberties it might take. If she’d thought ‘bedding and clothing’ it might have included ‘fabrics’ in that, and he should feel lucky he had any clothing or towels left at all. Hell, if she’d been rushing and had intentions such as ‘purify everything’, he was lucky he had anything left; such broad intentions could easily have ‘purified’ his apartment by emptying it.

He laughed. It felt good to laugh, to enjoy being able to breathe without that awful burn. "Don’t, don’t worry about it. Those were shit towels."

Forgetting himself, used to only letting Lilith and Lethe at his back, he reclined back against Camael. Camael stiffened against him, and he went rigid. Then, slowly, Camael relaxed.

Michael moved to sit next to him, sighing loudly.

"You have to be more careful," she said, sounding her age. Not the one her physical body appeared, but how old she truly was.

"I usually am." Sometimes. With some things. He was still alive, wasn’t he? And in (mostly) one piece.

Camael snorted.

"I avoid myrrh, I promise. We all do." He winced. Usually, he did all he could to keep from mentioning Hell, demons, or other Fallen. "If I have to get close to it, I layer up and wear masks. I avoid anywhere that burns incense or anything." This did, however, make it very hard to source materials for runes and sigils. Oh. The fucking corner store! The person who ran it was always burning candles. He’d been going there for years. "And if I even think I’m exposed to it, I shower. I just couldn’t smell anything through that damn cinnamon. It’s been strong the last few years, but never this bad."

...then again, he forced himself not to grimace; he hadn’t even worn his mask. Some dumbass had yelled at him the last time he had, and he hadn’t had it in him to get into an argument if he ran into someone else who took issue with him. Of course, that would be the one time Georgie burned fucking myrrh instead of their ‘field of fresh-mown grass’ candles.

In fact, he had sneezed. But their candles usually made him sneeze, and the cinnamon brooms irritated his nose, so he hadn’t thought anything of it.

Damn, he was stupid.

"Well, it is. What are you going to do now?"

Camael asked a good question. Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought. "I’ll have to be more careful. Cover up as much as I can, stay away from any shops if I can, wear a mask. Definitely will shower as soon as I get home no matter what... that was dumb of me."

"Very."

It was funny when Michael and Gabriel did it. When Michael and Camael spoke together, it was just disconcerting.

"Burn any cinnamon brooms I find," he added, sotto voce.

"Why are they even a thing?" Michael shook her head. "Makes you feel like you shoved a bar of cinnamon up your nose."

He laughed, enjoying the rumble of Camael’s chest behind him as he did the same.

God, he’d missed this.

"What were you doing here, anyway?" He'd been sure he’d be spending Christmas alone. But here were Michael and Camael in his apartment, having saved his life. "Not that I’m not grateful!" He was quick to add.

Camael didn’t laugh again, but Raphael could feel the rumble of his chuckle against his back. The warmth that spread through his chest, then, was anything but painful.

"Well, it’s Christmas, isn’t it?" Camael said, and now that he paid attention, Raphael realized he was right. Even through the cinnamon, he could smell turkeys and hams baking; his gender-optional neighbor had, it seemed, procrastinated and was only now baking an over-sweetened apple pie. Children were shrieking (he grimaced. Michael snickered.), and adults and older children were laughing. Awful Christmas music was playing, muffling the tearing of wrapping paper and the high-pitched noises of children trying out their new toys.

"You really thought we were going to let you spend it alone? Our own brother?"

Yes.

"I didn’t think you celebrated, honestly."

He knew they celebrated. He’d seen them more than once, participating in so many holidays over the centuries. So many New Year's celebrations, sometimes more than one in the same year. Why humans couldn’t pick a calendar and stick with it, he’d never know. Sometimes it was just Michael and Gabriel. Others, it was Michael, Gabriel, and Camael, and he was glad about it. It was nice to know they were still close. Rarely, it was just one of them. Often, it was Michael and Raguel, Camael, and, bafflingly, Gabriel and Kushiel. He’d seen them giving gifts of protection during Handsel Monday centuries ago, helping with the harvest and blessing the loaves of Lammas, preventing injuries during Gŵyl Mabsant, betting on who’d fail to carry the burning barrels during Up Helly Aa, throwing tomatoes at each other (from what he could tell through watching from afar, they lost points if they hit humans) each La Tomatina he’d seen, and, on one memorable occasion, Gabriel, Kushiel, and Raguel, glamored to appear as a man, competing in a heated discus throwing competition at one of the last Ancient Olympic games while Michael and Camael egged them on. This had ended very quickly when Gabriel, scowling at Kushiel, had flung his discus an impossible distance and lodged it into the wall of the stadium. There had been a very brief chaos as the angels rushed to make the humans forget what they saw.

Raphael would have helped, honestly, but he’d been too busy laughing until he cried at the horror on their faces.

And, in recent years, Gabriel seemed to have found it great fun to participate in Blasphemy Day. Michael always followed him, telling him he shouldn’t, but if Raphael got close enough that he could make out her face, she was always grinning.

But why should he think they’d want to celebrate with him?

"Of course we do," Michael frowned. "Actually, Camael, can you text Gabriel? He’s probably wondering where we are."

"Wait, Gabriel–?"

"He’s at Camael’s apartment. We’ve got a tree up and everything. If you’re feeling up to it, of course?"

Of course, he was up to it. He’d drag himself across shards of blessed glass if only to have a moment with any of them. His skin was a bit too sensitive, but otherwise? He’d have had no idea that he’d almost died in such a stupid way.

"Yeah, of course." Michael stared him down, but she’d raised him, insofar as any of them had been raised, so he didn’t squirm or look away.

"Tell Gabriel we’re about to head over," she finally said, apparently satisfied. Then she leaned forward, grabbing something out of his sightline that crinkled loudly. When she leaned back, she held a lumpy package in her hands, covered in gaudy, multi-colored stripes. At least, he assumed so. They smeared, hurting his eyes. She dropped it in his lap.

"What’s this?" He picked it up, wrinkling his brow when it gave under his touch.

"You have to look the part." Even still, she sounded tired, and he felt horrible for scaring her so badly.

Look the part?

Finally, he really looked at her. And then he had to laugh. He’d been a bit distracted, but now it was impossible to miss the garish red sweater she wore. It clashed horribly with her hair, and he wished more than anything that he could make out what those twinkling, white blobs were.

"Camael’s is worse," she grumped. That he had to see. He twisted, then laughed harder. Raphael hadn’t known blue could be that bright, and the fuzziness of it explained the coarseness he’d felt against his exposed skin. Lights of various colors twinkled, and he snorted, then laughed at that.

"Oh God," he rubbed at his eyes as they teared up, "that’s bad."

"Wait until you see yours." Camael patted his shoulder.

"Mine?" The word came out far louder than he’d intended it to.

They really did want him, didn’t they? A gift, a Christmas tree, and now an ugly Christmas sweater. His grin, he was sure, was wobbly. Raphael had gifts for them too, of course. But he’d had no delusions of being able to give them to them. He had intended to give them to Camael the next time he saw him, Oh, I saw these, thought of you guys. Mind giving those to Michael and Gabriel next you see them? Thanks!

He’d never dreamed of being able to see them open them.

"Now, get dressed. Put that on, get some pants. Sister or not, I’m not going through your underwear drawer."

"Thank you for that."

He had so much to thank her for. Raphael didn’t think he’d ever be able to say them all.

[e1dritchqueer]

hi!!! id love to hear all about ur xcom characters:3 especially your rangers! ... I don't know what that is but id love if you told me!

okay okay okay my xcom sillies!!!! So context for xcom 2, after the first game the like... xcom program lost and this fascist alien organization takes over and xcom 2 takes the perspective of a resistance origination fighting against the aliens rather than like... a weird government project in xcom 1

So the big appeal for xcom 2 (TO ME) is dressing up all the characters and making them all cool and silly and seeing them grow (and sometimes die :( but this is my first playthough so I'm MEGA savescumming) and making them gay and making propaganda about it

All xcom characters are randomly generated so I try not to change much about their name and appearance UNLESS I want to transgender them

ANYWAYS

my rangers

Rangers are a really fun class in xcom bc they're like the melee guys and ugh they have a lot of cool mechanics, and unlike my other guys (like generic grenadier, generic grenadier. generic grenadier)

here they are (xcom has some very cool post making features :))) )

I realized this post is REAL long bc of photos so all of their details are below !!!

anyways, going by each one by one, starting with Sergio "Pathfinder" Valdéz

He was my first ranger and it def shows!!! He started off a bit silly but slowly he becomes swaggier

my favorite thing about him (apart from him being literally one of the most experienced fighters in my run) is that he's gay married to his alien bestie, Mox. Xcom 2 has a mechanic where soldiers can bond and do teamwork stuff but I was like nah they're gay now

anyways this is their beautiful evolution, I love them so much. Mox is an alien catman now I love him (bonus mox pic as a treat). Those two were also part of the group that took out one of the big bosses permanantly (chosen assasin) and now Pathfinder rocks their cool ass shotgun

also ugh I have so many screen shots of him

Kong "Jetstream" Guo

I only got another ranger till I was DEEP in the campaign but that was Jetstream!

I think I mostly sent him on covert missions until Pathfinder got REALLY taken out for a bit and like now gah I love him. Covert missions increase soldiers' stats and it really showed for him How he started out: (also if the poster tags aren't silly goofy that's bc xcom makes an automatic poster for each mission and sometimes I don't have a joke but the posters look nice/have good pics of the xcom guys)

Anyways I call him Jetstream bc while making his armor look all cool I realized I had accidentally made Jetstream Sam's armor so like????? slay!!! I literally just went with that. He specs really well into mele enow and has a special blade (the chosen assasin katana) that is REALLY good against armored mechanical enemies. Also like gah he's so good with that weapon, he took out like... three armored enemies in a single overwatch turn with that blade so like yeah... jetstream sam type guy.

I love that second image bc it was one of those auto generated ones bc it has this spooky quote and he's just like :)

Jane "CATastrophe" Kelly

Actually my first character but I never used her bc she's like... the only pregenerated character you have so for a while I didn't know what to do with her till I got this cat armor mod and was like "I know what I'm gonna do with her". Anyways she's an axe wielding catgirl for the resistance.

anyways she's slay I love her she wields two fusion axes and throws them at big robots she's really fun :>>>>

Anyways here's her throwing an axe at a sectopod

also I love her lil tail :3

Raine "Spectre" Elliot

Okay she was a weird little cis guy when I got her but I since turned her into a cool transgender half alien gal :>>>>

I gave her that cool lil mask and also gave her the Apex/Titanfall Ash voicelines bc like... idk felt with the vibe of that mask

She also has the WRAITH suit which allows her to phase through stuff so like she's very cool and ghost coded. Idk much else abt her yet but her bondmate is a cool sharpshooter lady and when that happened I was like "yeah slay okay they're girlfriends"

I have a lot of other xcom sillies (including literally ottacon) but this post is getting waay long. Thank you for the ask!!! I love my xcom sillies and love talking about them

[erisluna35ocblog]

ErisLuna35ocblog Guide:

I started this blog to organize my OC lores for those who are interested and want to get to know them better. It's a little complicated as I tend to put them in AUs, and they end up somewhat different depending on the story they're in yet I try to keep the cores of their characters the same. It will take a while before this blog starts posting original content as I put a lot of stuff on main that I will reblog here for now. I will expand and update this as time goes on.

Main OCs:

Keagan Gerald "Kaji" Aurelio Ashworth

Fiona "Fuyu" Kuznetsov

Shizuke Midorikawa

Blair Crawford

Blake Crawford

Natalia Hale

Damien Guerrero

Zephyr Ryder

AUs:

OG STORY - this is the tag I use to label my original concepts for these characters. Before their better known ML AU incarnations, I pictured them in this fairytale-esque fantasy au with Keagan as the main protagonist. Prince Keagan had a leisurely life as the spare to the throne who's only responsibility is tying down the most powerful knight of their generation to stay on their kingdom's side forever through marriage. Everything was set on a track and he had no intention of fighting it. He likes his hedonistic life as a prince and he gets along well enough with his fiance, it's not worth losing over a thing called "freedom". His destiny was agreeable to him... that is, until he learns of a horrible secret that puts his fiance in danger but she can't know about it lest she dies by her own sword because she is stubborn about protecting everyone like the goddamn knight she is. The prince is forced to take matters into his own hands and run away from the capital, recruiting an unlikely group of outcasts, creating enemies from the shadows and have his fiance and his other childhood friend try to drag him back home.

ML AU - this is the tag I use to lump together all stories set in the show called Miraculous Ladybug.

BTaL - Between Truths and Lies, posted on Ao3 and FF.net. Acronym can be pronounced to sound like "Beetle" lol. The basic premise is its lowkey a future gen fic focusing on the new heroes, Shizuke Midorikawa as Ladybug and Blair Crawford as Chat Noire. Follow their journey as they struggle through superheroing, magic, love, grief and one evil butterfly lady.

N2CatS - No Two Cats are the Same, posted on Ao3 and FF.net. Acronym can be pronounced like "N-2-Cats". It's the time travel story set midway S2 of BTaL that features canon characters and how they deal with being stuck with my ocs for a week. Focused mainly on character study. It jumps off from an alternate end to Ephemeral where Sass's last resort ends up yeeting Adrien and Blair into each other's eras. Can be read as a stand alone despite its references to BTaL, as most references come with an explanation or much context isn't needed to be understood. Though reading BTaL first does enhance some of the references and enhances foreshadowing.

Otome Game AU - You know those manhwas where the protagonist, usually female, wakes up one day into the romfan world of the otome game or novel she was reading before she died? And she's in the body of the villainess, or the heroine or some extra? This AU, that's my entire main cast. A group of tired and stressed college students were working on a game for their thesis. They either worked themselves to death or their kidneys gave out from too much red bull or maybe they were half asleep walking home when truck-kun came for them, who knows. Thing is, they all died. Individually woke up into the body of the character that was modelled after them - which explains how none of them realizes they're not the only one who reincarnated. Chaos ensues. Can they all come to the same page before its too late?

To go directly to the most important notes, go to:

CHARACTER ARTS NOTES AND OTHER INFO

[neobubz]

can i just rant here for two seconds?! but first let me say this…1.) i’m not the sharpest tool in the shed 2.) i don’t have a profound love for overly complicated words that have the MOST SIMPLEST OF MEANINGS… that being said…

one of the things i love doing is picking up a new book and diving into the author’s world. however, why is it that author’s seem to describe everything but the kitchen sink? why do they go and talk about everything and anything but what they should actually be describing? i love using my imagination a lot while reading and try super hard even in my fanfics to let you guys explore your imaginations but at the same time painting a pretty good picture for you (at least i attempt to do so) still…why do writers use these astronomically complex words when there are simple words to use? or why do they not take time to really describe something but instead use the name of an object assuming everyone (no matter where they are in this world) knows what it is.

like the story i’m reading used the word aswang because we all know what an aswang is right? this book has a vampire character yet at the same time the author talks about this character turning into a wild cat and eating a man’s heart. yes, i am from the usa and let me tell ya, wtf?!!! i thought is this truly a vampire? i’ve never read stories were a vampire actually eats bodily organs (at least i haven’t stumbled across it and yes I’ve read more than just twilight vamp stories) she didn’t tell us ANYTHING about an aswang which i would have loved to hear about. it’s the same as me using the term rougarou and assuming you guys have heard it before. however, in the context that i first heard that term it was a person who can shape shift into a wolf not a werewolf so think twilight wolves but regular sized lol i could have used lycan, lycanthrope, or to make it even more simple, werewolf. those would have been better words than rougarou… so, anyway, this author goes and uses the term ouroboros, do you guys know what that is? it’s that snake eating it’s tail emblem that means infinity 🤦🏽‍♀️ like girl you could have described a pretty cool trinket/emblem/patch whatever in the story even saying if it was golden or gilded for lack of better words but no…you just said ouroboros like (everyone knows what that means so i don’t need to describe it) b*tch i’ve never read/heard/spoken that word in my life! i know what it is after i looked it up like “ohhhh that’s what it is!!! i’ve seen that before but never knew it was called that,” i had an epiphany in that moment or should i use ephiphanically like this author 😑

why do people do this? like really?!!!put that thesaurus away and try writing like a NORMAL person and then vary your descriptive words but don’t go crazy… people shouldn’t have to constantly put down a book/stop reading (unless there’s a language barrier cuz it happens) just to read a book… or maybe i’m just stupid and it’s a me problem…what do you guys think? do you agree or disagree?

[marislittlestories]

ok didnt want to ask in the comments of the new chapter in case u dont wanna talk abt it but girl what the hell is the story w dantes inferno, like why did u steal it why do u know a cult leader, HELP i desperatelyyyy need context

also ch 6 is ur best work yet but that seems like a given

ok love u bye!

love you too!!! so so glad you liked the chapter

okay so if you read a hand outstretched here & not on ao3 you miss out on the fun facts I leave in the notes & this week's fun fact was that I once stole a copy of Dante's Inferno from a cult leader

as I warned in the note, this story is not actually that exciting

basically my step mom was in a cult when I was in high school (she never left but they've lost some of their pizzazz over the years) and we would go to their compound & do random manual labor for the leader sometimes on the weekends

now this cult was pretty lame - if you know shit about micro cults you know most of them are - so the compound was just a couple trailers on adjacent lots & this wooden shed they called the church but did not use as a church

one time, the cult leader (a middle aged cat lady with an mfa, not even fucking joking) made me move her personal library to the wooden shed & organize it. it was the best job I'd gotten on one of those trips but I was still mad as hell because it was super last minute & I had to cancel plans I'd made with my friends to hang out with my step mom's cult

so I stole a copy of Dante's Inferno out of spite! it wasn't that effective because she had like ten of them but it made me feel better 😭

[eldritchsurveys]

1149.

What's the most worthwhile thing you've done in the last year? >> worthwhile??? I have no idea how to quantify that.

What foods make you want to gag? >> bananas

Do you consider yourself to be organized? >> I consider myself to be inclined towards organisation and optimisation. having a system for things makes me feel grounded and expansive. one thing I cannot do is adapt to others' systems of organisation, though, it has to be my own

Have you ever made out with someone? >> sure

What time do you get sleepy? >> sleepiness can come on at any point during the day, honestly. but at night I tend to start winding down at around 22:00, 22:30, and -- upstairs neighbour willing -- will usually be asleep by midnight

What music do you listen to? >> a wide variety, but I do seem to gravitate towards metal and darksynth most reliably

How do you feel about abortion/same sex marriage? >> my first instinct was to say that those two things aren't related and it's weird that they're put together here like they are, but it does seem true that people who are pro one tend to be pro the other one as well, so

How old were you when you started to walk? >> damned if I know

Which member of your family do you get along with the best? .

What cheers you up when you're sad? >> Red Dwarf

What do you sleep in? >> a specific pair of lounge pants and an undershirt (no shirt in the summer, despite the horrors (skin-to-skin contact))

Have you ever tanned topless? >> I don't tan at all

Wear jewelry? >> the jewelry in my piercing is a permanent fixture, but I also wear various other pieces on and off

What's something you've been told you're good at? >> fiction writing

How much can you eat? >> how do I even quantify that

What's the furthest away you've ever traveled? >> the furthest distance I've travelled is between NYC and Colorado, I assume

Are you a cat or dog person? >> I'm not a pet person, period. as far as whether I prefer either animal in a more general sense, I'm more dog-oriented than cat-oriented but in practice I get along with domesticated animals based on personality more than anything else

Have you ever done drugs? >> lol yes

What does your room look like? >> I don't know how to describe that, it's not themed or anything. it's a biggish room with a bunch of furniture and decor and my numerous belongings in it, dunno what else to tell you

Recommend a really amazing book. >> Dark Matter by Blake Crouch

Recommend a really amazing song. >> A Mind Beside Itself II: Voices by Dream Theater

Recommend a really amazing movie. >> Akira

Who's your favorite actor/actress? >> Matthew McConaughey

Have you ever run away from home? >> I've tried, lol

Do you exercise ever? >> ever? sure. enough? absolutely not

Do you like your hair, the way it is and the colour? >> it's fine

Do you have any friends named Baloo? Or is he just in the Junglebook? >> akldjlfafjl what

Are you a Disney movie fan? >> I am not. I just casually enjoy a few Disney flicks

Do you eat seafood? >> I do

When was the last time you cried? >> like 15 minutes ago. I found out that in 2018 Arlene's Grocery stopped hosting the cult-famous live-band karaoke event they'd been running since 2004. it's an event I used to attend religiously (I use this word intentionally, because its other connotation fits as well) and that I used to call home until I was banned (not a great story, just a sad one really), and I have a lot of feelings about it, and they kind of all hit me at once when I learned this new information

Do you have good working habits? >> I guess that depends on how much I care about what I'm working on

So where the hell do you want to go in life? >> I don't want to go anywhere, man, I want to meander my way down the road until I run out of road

What are your boundaries? >> I don't have just... general boundaries... I have context-specific ones that I can't just think of off the top of my head

What are some of the funniest things you can think of? >> predictably, I immediately forgot every funny thing I've ever encountered

What are two quirky little things about you? >> uh.

Are you claustrophobic? >> I don't enjoy being in tight spaces but I wouldn't say I was phobic

Do you like getting wasted? >> I don't like it, which is why I don't do it

List three things that you look for in a friend. >> not even sure what to look for at this point

Do you prefer Angels and Airwaves or Rhianna? .

What religion are you, if any? >> I don't follow any religions, I just enjoy their existence

If your house was on fire (and your family escaped), what would you save? .

Do you have any sash belts? >> I don't

What do you have on right now? Include everything, nail polish, makeup, etc >> Hanes briefs, Marvel Comics lounge pants, light blue t-shirt, Duff's hoodie, headphones, septum piercing jewelry

Does caffeine make you hyper? >> it doesn't. it makes me feel regulated and attentive and engaged. happy, even. and if I've had enough of it, it keeps me up most of the night (but not in a hyper way, just in a... "brain refuses to process the idea of being sleepy" way? every once in a while my desktop computer will randomly wake itself up for seemingly no reason and that's kind of what it feels like when I've had a significant amount of caffeine -- brain just won't register "sleep mode" as a command and keeps waking us back up)

[cursedchildofchaos]

💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬

19??? Anon, you little shit! Okay, fine lol. Not giving context either besides that some of these are from fanfics and some original stuff

1. 

COACH

Schmidt just went full Winston and got

pet-ernal.

2. 

ALISON 

Nothing you say is going to change my mind, Dr. Felix. 

CHASE 

(through gritted teeth) 

Oh, it's last names now? Fine, but I'm not helping, Dr. Roberts. Use the damn machine yourself!

3. 

Talk or I'll bite you! I'll bite your whole family! I'll even bite your grandma!

4. 

And that's why you shouldn't trust strangers that offer you candy, kids. Never know when one might turn out to be a vengeful witch.

5. 

It's called a chemical reaction, you fudging sucker!

6. 

BEA

So, what brings you to Hell?

DAVE

Oh, my ex told me she would see me here.

7. 

If our dumbass friend is doing something dumbass, we are doing that dumbass thing, too, because we are dumbasses.

8.

A BANK OFFICIAL, standing in front of Dedire, pulls his collar as he eyes the porcelain dolls about the room. They seem like each one is staring into his soul.

9.

There’s a cat waiting to pounce when we stop dancing. You see, I’m allergic to cats, or cads, whatever you call ’em.

10.

Snape thought briefly that he might be dead and this was his own personal Hell even though he sort of enjoyed seeing Petunia cry. The situation was all too laughable and miserable at the same time...Maybe the Catholics were right about Purgatory being real?

11.

Haru: Tohru, tell your bf to accept this secret passionate love for Yuki and join the new Yuki Fan Club.

Kyo: I said replace me with her, dammit! Not add her and not get rid of me!

Tohru: Kyo, please, honey, just accept your secret passionate love for Yuki. Also, thanks for adding me guys! Kyo has been complaining about this group chat for over an hour, and I wanted in so bad, but didn’t want to just invite myself.

12.

Virgil ripped his arm out of Remus' grasp.

"Scaring people is my thing, Snidely Whiplash," Virgil retorted.

13.

MC: Loser

Dan: Yeah, what about it?

MC: Oh, um, I didn’t mean it

Dan: Ah, well, I did

MC: Stop, you’re making me feel bad for you

Dan: Good

14.

Wait...I forgot I'm the author of this fanfic. I can just go inside his head. Let's do that (not literally, though, I get a little woozy when it comes to organs).

15.

Today really was a Happy Birthday, wasn't it? Molly thought to herself while jamming to music in her car. I can't wait to get home and tell Toby all about it.

16.

"Another time, I forced everyone to listen to Kidz Bop instead of original songs, claiming they were more Good Place friendly as you do. Another time I said the only people who make it to Heaven are the ones that love the movie Citizen Kane and refuse to watch anything else, so we kept watching it repeatedly as you do. Another time, I forced you to retake French, which I know you hated in high school, cuz I had Janet put a French filter on Chidi's voice...as you do," he rambled off.

"You know adding 'as you do' doesn't make it better...especially as NO ONE DOES THOSE THINGS," Eleanor said, now standing, and looking at Michael accusingly.

17.

His eyes began to water. He slid off the chair next to her. He pulled her into an embrace. She stiffened as he buried his face in her hair that hung near her neck and over her shoulder. His tears were hot as they soaked her sleeve and hair.

18.

Jane attempts to put her hands on her hips, but there isn't room. Instead, she sticks them in her armpits.

19. 

"But I-I," Meg stuttered. "NO BUTS! I want you to think about how disrespectful you've been while were gone," Juliet retorted. Olka belly laughed and whispered, "Butts!" Astrid kicked her sister in the shin.

[bloodygranuaile]

one thing i need various social justice flavored people to understand is that people can be hurt without someone doing anything Objectively Wrong And Bigoted And Abusive.

It’s all very well to say “Just be kind!” and then go aggro apeshit harassment campaign on anyone being insufficiently Just Kind but, as the only YouTuber who reads once asked, “What do we do when the facts are not kind?”

It is a basic fact of being human that sometimes people will have conflicting needs and wants, and people will be hurt when those needs/wants are not met, even if the other person isn’t particularly Crossing A Line about it. Apology scripts that assume that if an apology is asked for, then somebody must have done something objectively and societal-level wrong, are making some very unwarranted assumptions about what “situations that might call for an apology” look like. Sometimes it is correct to apologize for hurting someone’s feelings, and only for hurting that specific person’s feelings. Sometimes there is a miscommunication and it is correct to apologize for the miscommunication but not for whatever was being miscommunicated about.

Sometimes it is even appropriate to say “I’m sorry that you feel that way, but I am not going to change the thing I am doing.” I am not going to be best friends with you if I don’t actually like you, I am not going to go out with you if I don’t want to no matter how much I know that romantic disappointment sucks, I am not going to turn down a job offer because you also applied to it, I am not going to stop asking for volunteers in a volunteer-run organization because you feel bad about being reminded that you’re not volunteering, I am not going to stop using the word “queer” in all contexts and with all parties because you have an issue with it, I am not going to vote for your unworkable proposal because you feel bad when your proposals get voted down, I am not going to renew my lease with you if you can’t stop endangering the cats.

We need to talk more about figuring out how to operationalize compassion for people whose feelings are genuinely hurt out of proportion to or in the absence of actual wrongdoing, or whose issues/trauma/etc cause them to act extra at other people, other than “don’t have a problem with their behavior and submit to whatever they ask.” The demand for The Perfect (but perfectly not-too-perfect) Apology is a result of a lot of very real issues but it is nonetheless *very maladaptive* and *not contextually appropriate to many, many apologies.*

the "perfect" apology as taught in a libleft social justice context is bullshit — it's an etiquette ritual designed to prove your loyalty to a community, and isn't any better than any other way to apologize.

it's also invoked in contexts where expecting it is deranged (i.e demanding someone profess full culpability and acknowledge harm without providing an explanation or trying to defend themself, immediately, the moment they've done something which might be wrong? is a cruel burden to place on someone's shoulders)

i cannot stand how much of a cultural expectation people place on it and how weird people get when the etiquette ritual is violated

[perpetual-fool]

Musings 2

(01/11/23,1k) Thoughts I've had about some personal things. (tired, feelings, mistakes, talking, childhood)

I am so tired: I'm doing better, but 'better' is not 'good'. There is so much to do and I have almost no energy to do it with. There's such a tremendous mess. Obviously, the world is fucked, society is a façade, and people are evil. But I don't have enough will to worry about those things yet. (Not that that that stops me if something brings it up.) I really can't keep up with just the cooking and cleaning and exercise I need just to live; I'm not sure what I should even do for all those things. I have so much fucking stuff acquired in the pursuit of any little thing that might make me happy, and if nothing else that needs to be organized and stored. And I can't even begin to deal with money, legal, or medical stuff. But I'm gonna have to, 'cause my heart problem came back. I'm almost certainly going to have to have surgery again to get it fixed. I really don't want have to see the inside of a hospital again for another decade. And I just have little aches, pains, weird little sensations so often now. I'm sure my reactions are overblown to an extent. After what I was(n't) told about my heart problem the first time, I'm conditioned to feel like any little thing might kill me. Like, "a little sore spot in your leg? feel slightly dizzy? headache? better pack your hospital bag." But this stuff didn't used to happen. And I need maintenance I've never had to worry about before. It's like my body just broke in 2019. I don't have the energy for this. I've never had the energy for this. Maybe things would be easier if I had anything to look forward to. I'm just blindly searching at this point, I have no reason to think anything is going to go anywhere. Although Cat is talking to me again, for now. That's the one good thing I have. Though she may decide she doesn't want to bother.

Tainted feelings: I'm having an ongoing problem, any time I think of something that might be fun or interesting, I reflexively feel bad about it. I'll see a well made drawing or something, and just as I'm about to feel some way about it, I'm reminded of a bad experience I've had related to drawing, and feel bad. Reasoning at it doesn't seem to do anything; logic doesn't seem to apply. I think I just have to decide to feel good instead of bad? Maybe when I start thinking "you're a piece of shit" about some idea, I need to go back and say "no, that idea is good actually". For just a moment, a day or so, I had hope and clarity. That has happened before. I think maybe I was so exhausted I wasn't processing anything past the change itself. So for a moment it seemed like things were going to get better, not seeing the challenges that would entail.

Mistakes are good?: I've felt bad any time I couldn't achieve, essentially, perfection. Any little mistake, any sub-optimal choice, any experimental dead end was not acceptable. I'm not sure where I learned it, but it doesn't make any sense. Even assuming perfection is the goal, you don't get there by just being perfect. You get there by study, experimentation, and practice. You get there by making mistakes. So, I should feel good about failure? each one being a step towards being better. How do I feel good about things?

Talking with Cat: Cat is talking to me again. She seems to be okay with the kind of stuff I want to talk about, and she seems to be able/willing to explain things in a way I can actually understand. Although that turned out to be harder than I thought. Problem being, it's not just the one idea I need explained, but all the prerequisites too. But it seems to be going well I feel as strongly as I ever did. Maybe more now that I'm not 'muted'. I have neither the context to understand what's happening nor to know what others would call it. It feels sort of warm? and there's this 'pulling' sensation in my chest. I'm thinking about her more often than not. I really want to try and say affectionate things, but she's not comfortable with that at the moment. Waiting is hard; she doesn't have a lot of time to spare these days. Also I feel kind of sad, but that's because I'm afraid of losing her, which would be devastating. She apparently has mixed feelings. She said she still has some positive feelings about me, though I don't know why anyone would. And she feels resentment about some things, but we haven't had time to get into it. I don't know if it's resolvable. I guess if my presence is going to make her unhappy then I don't want to bother her. Aside: if this doesn't work, there's not going to be anyone else. I know not to try and connect anymore.

What is a childhood supposed to be?: I was wondering, what is growing up supposed to be like? There's definitely a prescribed series of events that society expects should happen, as with school being mandatory. Other people my age might kids or a doctorate at this point, but I'm just starting to figure out how to live, from scratch. If nothing else, certainly that's something that's something that's supposed to have been taught by now. Although judging by the handful of people I've dealt with, no one has any fucking idea what they're doing. It's just another façade I guess. Maybe you're not supposed to be a person, maybe you're supposed to be a worker, a worshiper, or a subject. Almost never have I heard people express motivations in terms of what they want, it's almost always been a variant of "(in this circumstance) you're supposed to _". Are there people in there at all?

[1bringthesun]

okay i do NOT know how tumblr works so i’m making this new post bcuz someone commented about the Mori comment i made last post so basically i’ll go over a crash course on why i don’t think he’s a pedo!

1) he calls Elise his wife

yup, he says this in an omake of bsd. however, the word he uses in this context is 妻 (tsuma), which is used to mean wife NOW, but meant something more along the lines of “lifelong partner” in the past. he’s being a screwy bastard and trying to toy with Fukuzawa by using a word that means either “wife” or “partner,” but basically he’s trying to see how far he can take it. calling a kid your wife is strange, sure, but calling a kid your partner could really mean anything.

2) he sees Elise naked

tbh i’m not really sure why this one proves anything. he’s trying to put clothes ON her, not take them off. he doesn’t look aroused or anything. actually, he looks… no thoughts brain empty. there’s not a single thought in that head of his at this moment, much less any sexual comments about Elise’s body.

3) Elise is based off of Yosano, Mori was obsessed with Yosano

once again, there’s nothing inherently sexual here. he abused Yosano (not with the intention to hurt her, but with the idea that her mental and physical well-being were a worthy sacrifice for the hundreds of thousands of other lives on the line), he didn’t prey on her? he canonically feels remorseful over Dazai’s lack of will to live, so it’s not too much of a stretch to say he has regrets about Yosano as well. in that case, Elise would represent the petulant and innocent attitude Yosano could have developed instead of her hardened views of the world. i think he sees Elise as a daughter, and i think he regrets not being able to treat Yosano as one either

4) “i prefer those 12 and under”

i’m foggy on the details, but he says something to that effect in a conversation with Kouyou. The context is that she’s calling him a capable boss, to which he replies, “i prefer my subordinates to be younger” (or something…). once again, this isn’t something that strikes me as inherently pedophilic. he likes young subordinates because they are weak and impressionable, and that sort of docile attitude just so happens to fit in well with his pastime of mansplain manipulate malewifing the yokohama underground. anyway, it’s nothing sexual. his organization literally human traffics, and he’s never once stepped in to do strange things to the children on their way to be sold. he couldn’t care less about them, he just wants smart yet dependent and naive underlings. also anyone who read this scene as them flirting is very ill-read in my opinion. they are not flirting. stick your shipping agenda back into fanon interpretation of characters. Mori and Kouyou are girlbossing the entirety of the port mafia together, but they’re not girbossing each other.

5) his character sheet

his character sheet does indeed have “young girls” in the likes category, but let me amend this- the words used are 幼女, aka “maiden.” you might say, “tai, japanese doesn’t differentiate singulars and plurals,” to which i reply, “have we seen him even interacting with woman out of his job?” the answer is no. he basically speaks to Elise and Kouyou, and there’s his female companionship. he’s married to his job, guys. he doesn’t have the time to frolic around with young women. but anyway, it doesn’t say “young girls,” it says “maiden(s)” so just take the plurality in the translation with a grain of salt. it could be referring to one single girl (Elise cough cough) (his daughter cough cough). also please ignore how astoundingly high res this image is.

6) Mori and fukuzawa’s argument

who’s surprised at this point when i say that this was also a mistranslation? not me! Mori says something to the effect of, “are you still fawning over stray cats?” to which Fukuzawa replies “and are you fawning over that girl still?” it was translated, for some inconceivable reason, as “only as much as you fawn over young girls” (or something) which i just don’t understand. yenpress, look me in the eye, this is not you. anyway zenki soukoku beloved.

7) letter to nathaniel

Mori plans on killing nathaniel and margret in the guild arc, right? so he has absolutely zero reason to lie when he sends them a letter saying “i want your ship and also you guys’ lives. thanks uwu” right ????? in the official translation in that letter, he calls Elise his child. idk how much more specific you can get there, chief. Elise is Mori’s daughter, your honor.

is this all i have to say? absolutely not. i could talk my head off about why Mori isn’t a pedo for ages, and i can connect it to “vita sexualis,” “the dancing girl,” Asagiri’s own opinion on Ougai’s legacy as an author and general, the irl Mori and Yosano’s relationship in comparison to the bsd version, and also the opinions of the fans in different languaged-fanbases. unfortunately, it’s way too early for my brain to function, and i now depart to feel the warm embrace of my very own Yoshiko chan. goodbye, tumblr, and i hope you agree with what i’ve said in this long-winded message~~