#tragic loss of life etc etc

[razberrypuck]

the cyclical nature of charlie slimecicle characters

[kazieka]

Does ur dream imply ur the cause of the missing submarine

i want to say “if I could astral project do you think I’d be using it to Iron Lungify some billionaires at the ocean floor??” but like, i would absolutely do that

[sparky-is-spiders]

Seeing a post about Love and immediately opening Libreoffice to project onto Jon for a little under 1k words.

[nachobsns]

Hello - I was impressed and extremely relieved by what you wrote in the post about the cult mentality of the Left RE Israel and accusations of genocide. You mentioned that you bought into the mindset until recently. If it's all right for me to ask, what was it that helped you break out of it? (Please feel free to delete/ignore if you'd rather not answer!)

thank you!! and no worries about asking— i think i put something in my pinned post about how people are welcome to send asks about this stuff, although my story isn’t super interesting. i fell down the typical online rabbithole, a couple weeks after october 7; i knew what had happened, at least vaguely, but the posts trickling onto my dash were all about the (undeniably tragic) loss of life in gaza, with little to no acknowledgment of the hamas atrocities that had started the war, so my narrative was pretty one-sided from the beginning. it just continued to snowball as the months went on and people became more radicalized, calling into question the reality of the 10/7 attacks and the humanity of all israelis. i never went all the way down the pipeline to full-on endorsing hamas or justifying their attacks, at least on a personal level, thank god, but i would reblog other people’s posts referring to hamas as a “resistance movement” and calls to boycott starbucks and mcdonald’s and condemnation of the “zionist media” etc etc etc. what pulled me out of it wasn’t any one thing— if someone had directly called me on my flawed logic and antisemitic biases while i was in this mindset, i doubt it would have done much, just reinforced my belief that i was on the “right side of history” and zionists were aggressors who couldn’t be reasoned with. it was mostly just passive observance and a slow exposure to other perspectives. i’m pretty sure the first post that led me to question my thinking was an ask on jewish-vents, which popped up on my dash in like, late july. this led me down another rabbithole, first scouring every single post on jewish-vents, then moving on to more popular jewish blogs that i had seen on “zionist blocklists” (applesauce42069, xclowniex, and spacelazarwolf were probably some of the blogs that influenced me the most, though i told myself i was just hate-scrolling at first, lol). i felt incredibly guilty seeing all the harm the movement i was a part of had caused to random jews and israelis just trying to live their lives and i realized how it went against everything i believed about how minority groups should be treated. from there, the aspect of actually undoing my thinking and changing my behavior for the better still took several weeks. denial of jewish indigenity to the levant in the face of tantamount archeological and cultural evidence was the first to go, as well as any ambiguity in my feelings about hamas. after that, it’s mostly been a slow process of redefining the idf’s actions from a “genocide” to a ��war.” i still believe that what’s happening in gaza is unconscionable and horrific, and that too many innocent civilians have died, but i also understand how difficult it is to fight against a terrorist group that systematically embeds itself in civilian populations, and that the ratio of militant to civilian deaths is incredibly low compared to most urban warfare. i quietly deleted my old blog in early august— if i had directly engaged in harassment against jews, i likely would have kept it to make amends to the harmed parties and put a face to my actions, but as was, i had just contributed to the larger atmosphere of antisemitism on this site, and i felt uncomfortable knowing that i had a blog full of sentiments that no longer matched my values and beliefs. i decided i would be better if i took my endorsement out of the equation entirely, because when you’re looking through the notes of a post, it obviously doesn’t matter if someone who’s reblogged it no longer agrees with what was said— their notes still count as tacit approval, and i did not want approval of this “activism” attached to my online presence. i still have unwanted kneejerk reactions that crop up sometimes, particularly around the fundraiser posts from people “in gaza”; even though i know logically that they have all the markers of scams, there is still a part of me that really wants to believe i could help.

[prolifeproliberty]

Hey, I'm stumped on this objection, if it's alright, I want your input on this

"For these types of people I always give them a hypothetical situation for them answer So if you knew your wife was going to die by giving birth to the child would you let Your wife get an abortion or would you let your wife die in the child grow up without a mother?"

What do you think?

I would answer that the choice is never actually that simple. We imagine this cinematic moment where the doctor comes out to talk to the anxious husband in the waiting room and says “Sir, we can only save one of them. Should we save your wife or your child?” and he has to make that choice.

That makes a very dramatic movie scene, but it’s not real.

There are three categories of “life of the mother” situations:

1. Very early pregnancy. Mother has a life threatening condition and cannot be kept stable until the child reaches viability (now around 22 weeks with evidence-based best practices). Even in these situations, a direct abortion isn’t the life-saving care. Usually we’re talking about the mother needing a treatment for her life-threatening condition that risks the life of the baby. Most ethical choice is to treat the mother. If the baby dies as a result of the treatment, that is a tragic loss. If the baby doesn’t die, awesome! In this category, there is no way to save the baby without saving the mother, because if the mother died, the baby would too. Ectopic pregnancies fall in this category because there is currently no way to save the baby. If we developed the ability to get ectopic embryos to successfully re-implant in the uterus, that would become the ethical option.

2. Late-term complications. I’m going out of order here for a reason. This is anything where the mother’s life-threatening health issue starts after viability, but especially when we’re talking 30 weeks and on. Baby’s chance of survival with an early delivery goes up rapidly as baby approaches full term. In these cases, if the mother needs immediate treatment for a life threatening issue, she doesn’t actually need her baby to die. There is no reason to choose between the mother and child. A C-section is actually safer than a late-term abortion, since third trimester abortions usually still involve the mother laboring and delivering a dead baby. If the concern, as posed in the original hypothetical, is that she would “die by giving birth,” then she probably just needs a C-section (or a better doctor).

3. The third category is the most complex one. This is when the life threatening issue for the other begins when the child cannot yet survive outside the womb, but may be able to in a few weeks. This is where the difficult decisions are made. This category includes women diagnosed with cancer who might decide to delay treatment to protect their child until their child can be safely delivered. However, even here we can see examples of mothers who choose to receive treatment without first killing their child, and doctors who find innovative ways to treat life-threatening illnesses without harming preborn children.

The true answer is “save them both.” We can’t always - just as any doctor knows in a triage situation they can’t always save all the patients. The decision of who to save is never based on which patient is more human, more valuable, or more worth saving. The answer is instead based on how the doctor can save the greatest number of patients. If the doctor can save everyone, they do. If the doctor knows a course of action means for sure saving one patient, while another might not make it, but the alternative is losing both, then they will choose to save at least one. We almost never see a situation where the doctor has to arbitrarily choose between two patients - the decision is always based on the condition of each patient, the resources available, how much time there is, etc. There are algorithms for this kind of thing.

Basically I refuse to let unrealistic hypotheticals dictate actual policy on saving children.

Because people believe in the “we can only save one, choose!” scenario, we get doctors telling women that they will die if they don’t get an abortion, and then they cry to the media that they had to go to Colorado or California to get their “life-saving procedure.” The reality is that either the doctor could have treated the mother without first killing the baby and given the baby a chance to survive, or they could have delivered the baby and then treated the mother.

Anyone who says they couldn’t do the first option under ____ state abortion law is either lying or ignorant. If the mother’s condition is actually life-threatening, every state allows doctors to treat the mother. Killing a child doesn’t cure any illness.

[lord-of-the-harvest]

We, as a fandom, do not talk enough about how Barbatus KILLED the Tpof dlc Soundtrack

Host Pathogen Interface is exactly what my brain sounds like when I’m panicking

Hindbrain Self-I can’t even listen to half the time cause of how tragic and hopeless it is

So Much For The Tolerant Left?? Disturbing, droning, I don’t think I’ve ever described an audio as “hulking” before, but here we are. Given what it was used for, just listening to the audio alone can be nauseating

And then there’s Empty Love. It portrays warmth and hope for new beginnings, but behind the facade it’s perfectly cold and hollow. The only way one would be tricked into believing the lighter notes were something positive would be through losing all trust in anything the outside world has to offer. It greatly portrays the MC’s loss of sanity and hope for any other life outside of Fox. Reminds me of the ���City Lights” audio for Celia.

And those are just my favorites from the DLC and the way I perceive them! I love listening to the soundtracks when I’m working, writing, etc, and I’d love to start a conversation about it!

[fraugwinska]

What about the reader found and old radio, they thought the radio was broken but it's not, it's just antique.. when they play it at night time alastor broadcast was heard first they feel something is odd.. but they love to listen to his voice, heck they even like talking to each other, because of this encounter alastor talk about it to rosie, she was happy hearing alastor telling her stories but she feel odd when alastor mention that the person he talks to is a human, Rosie giving him advice to not fall for human because they're different species, and it will make him weak etc.

Alastor feel guilty and agree with rosie advice so he's stop contacting the reader from the radio, he thinks that the reader will be fine but no the reader take it personally.. they thought alastor don't want to talk to them anymore.. it drive them mad and lead to suicide..

So yeah angst :D

Oh Anon. What have you done.

I cried while I wrote that - it took two very good friends of mine to encourage me to post it (Thanks to @macabr3-barbi3 and @mysterypotatoink). But I think it's tragic and beautiful, and honestly - I'm kinda proud of it!

TW: Psychological Trauma, descend into madness, loss of self care and suicide - please take care of yourself and do not read if you aren't comfortable with any of the mentioned! MINORS DNI

Here we go.

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Leap of Faith

You carried in the last box from you banged-up minivan. The old thing barely made it to your new home. A little cabin in the outskirts of New Orleans, a little off the grid and surrounded by the peaceful and whirring bayous of Louisiana.

A fixer-upper, just like yourself.

The online auction had intrigued you the second you found it, the photos were a bit blurry and you knew it was a risk to buy a place you've never set foot in, but something in you called you to get it. The price you paid was laughable, barely making a dent in your savings. Moving states sounded scary and impossible, but you felt oddly calm about it.

You didn't have a lot of stuff to move anyway. After all, you only lived with your late grandmother, and she never really cared for material things. Your parents left you at her doorstep, never to be seen again.

Caring for her in her last, sickness-ridden years had been a no-brainer - it felt like nothing in comparison to all she had done for you - but it also had been a bit lonely.

You had your friends, if you could even call them that, but you rarely saw them - guiding your nan through the last months of her life had been demanding and time-consuming. It had left you exhausted and emotionally unavailable, and after a while, calls and texts ceased, until it was just you and her. You felt lost, as if the world was slowly pulling away from you.

When she finally died, peacefully in her sleep, you felt sad, relieved and drained.

Detached from the city you lived in.

Lost.

So you decided to sell what little you inherited, except for a few sentimental mementos, and move away from it all. To start a new life, a happier one, finally one that was truly your own.

You took the final box inside, setting it on the coffee table and wiped the sweat from your brow. You looked around the little cabin: The roof had some spots that needed a patch, and the wood floors were a bit warped, but it was all yours. No more having to share anything with anyone.

The cabin came furnished, a lot of the stuff was old, but still usable. You figured that would change once you settled in and had a vision of what you wanted and needed to buy. The thought of thinking about no one but yourself made you nervous.

But a little excited, too.

The old furniture would do for the moment, but there was a particular piece that caught your eye: an old, vintage cathedral radio, sitting nestled in between a cracked wooden box and a tarnished, bronze candle holder in a bookcase that was a bit out of place in the tiny space. With a tilted head, you stepped closer to inspect it, drawn to it by it's unique character and beauty.

It looked as well-loved as it looked well-used, the mahogany a bit scuffed, the knobs a little worn from years of being turned. But there were golden details etched into the front, and you traced them lightly with a finger, strangely touched and intrigued.

You were certain the old thing didn't work, but when you plugged it into the nearby socket, static erupted from the speakers, making you jump back. You had to smile, though.

Tonight, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have this little device and a little music for good company.

***

"I'm home!" you announced to no one in particular, as you closed the door behind you, your hands full with overfilled grocery bags full of necessities, waiting to fill your empty cabinets.

The day had been hot, but a welcome breeze of the impending night break cooled the inside of your little cabin a bit. With a quiet grunt you set the paper bags down at the small kitchenette. Your groceries were quickly dispersed, and you put on an apron you saved from your grandmother as you got started on dinner.

You hummed as you cut vegetables and boiled water. It had been a long time since you had cooked, really cooked, your nan wasn't much for eating and had no problem living off of simple soups and toast. When you opened your fridge to get some butter, your glance fell onto the radio.

A little music would be nice, you decided, and you walked over, cleaning your hands on the red, frilly cloth around your waist before you turned the dial. The soft sound of static made you hum in contempt - yup. Still works. A little turn to the left, and the room was filled with a soft jazzy tune, the melody a bit grainy, but you didn't mind that at all. You returned to the stove, swaying your hips to the beat as you worked. The music made you feel at ease, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just right.

Just as the onions began to brown in the pan, the song faded out to a voice. You turned your head to the radio, intrigued by the unusual, eccentric accent of the host. It reminded you of the old, vintage films and recordings your grandmother had been fond of - wasn't it called 'transatlantic'?. Whatever it was, it made you smile.

"Now wasn't that a kick in the head, dearest listener? I sure hope you enjoyed the little musical interlude, but it's time to return to the real show! As usual, my name is Alastor, and you are listening to the best jazz, blues and swing music that Hell has to offer!"

You blinked, a little puzzled and yet amused. "Sure is hot as hell today, strange man in the radio.", you mumbled, chuckling as you stirred the bell peppers under the caramelized onions.

"Today we have a very special guest joining my humble broadcast, it seems. Pleasure to meet you, darling, quite the pleasure!"

"Oh who? Me?" you asked, looking theatrically over your shoulder with batted lashes, shaking your head over your own silliness. You weren't used to talking out loud to yourself, or even really thinking out loud. You were always alone, after all, but the little pretend-play was fun. You laughed a bit, waiting for the host's guest to speak.

"Of course you, little dove. Who else would I mean?"

You gasped, and nearly dropped the spoon as you whipped around, eyes glued to the humming, orange glow of the radio in the dim darkness of your living room.

"What's that? You're surprised, my dear? Don't worry, you're not the only one! This is a first for me, too. Never had a human join my program. I must say, I'm quite intrigued! Tell me, what is your name?"

Your eyes grew wide, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. You took a hesitant step backwards and hit the hot stove, making you curse under your breath. Was the heat finally getting to you?

"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm not gonna hurt you, cross my lil' old, blackened heart."

"I-I'm..." you began, swallowing as your fingers tightened around the wooden spoon. "My name is..."

"Yes?"

"I'm... crazy.", you mumbled, rubbing a hand over your face and chuckling a bit. You were just going insane, that's all. Must be the stress, combined with the intense heat. And lack of a companion, a tiny voice reminded you. Yes. Must be.

"Hello crazy, this is Alastor." The host laughed, together with a canned audience.

"Alastor...", you repeated, realization settling in - this wasn't a joke, or a trick of your mind.

"At your service, my dear.", the voice cooed. "Now, I believe you still owe me your name..."

***

You weren't crazy.

Or if you were, you didn't mind. Not with Alastor by your side - or, to be exact, in the radio on your bookcase.

After two weeks of ignoring the cursed radio after unplugging it in a wave of panic on your first night, your morbid curiosity got the better of you. You plugged it back in, and turned on the dial. Just once, you told yourself, then never ever again.

And that's how the two of you got in contact with each other once more. Alastor was as chipper as the first time you heard him, and after a bit of back-and-forth, he promised once again not to harm you, and you shared your name with him. The rest was history. He was very pleasant company. For a demon from hell.

You wouldn't classify the conversations you had with him as a real friendship in the beginning, but you did talk. Occasionally. Mostly in the evenings, when you cooked dinner: He'd ask you about your day and would pry eagerly for a little bit of gossip or new information about the modern New Orleans. When he let it slip that he lived in this very cabin in the 1920's, you weren't stopping with questions about what it was like back in his days, which he, in return, answered generously and enthusiastically.

The first few times he would try to coerce you into making a deal for your soul, casually sprinkling the offer into his small talk, but with enough blunt refusals and a few more days of radio silence (pun intended), he dropped the topic and seemed content on just talking. You, in return, found yourself relaxing into his charming company, your brain happily engaged with trying to wrap your head around him, or better, you tried to come to terms with it.

Weeks passed, and turning the radio on in the evenings became less of an occasional lapse of judgment but more of a routine you were looking forward to. You could tell the Alastor felt the same, his banter became less tense and acted, and a little more genuine.

It made your heart swell in happiness, that someone out there seemed to appreciate your company – even if that someone wasn't human.

Apprehension became amusement, and fascination became friendship. Oddly enough, you found common grounds in a lot of things: A love for cooking and good music. Preferring books over films. Red wine over white. A shared aversion of vulgarity, and appreciation for good manners.

Your nights were cut shorter and shorter, you would spend hours chatting on and on, until the deep darkness of night disappeared into a shade of blue on the horizon. Neither of you minded, at least that was what you thought. Alastor never ended the conversations with you. Either you had to say your goodbyes, or you would just fall asleep after hours of talking on your couch, and awake with a pained back to a shut-off radio. Then, after you'd realize that you would have a whole day ahead of you without hearing his voice, the loss would make your chest ache.

Two months into the 'thing', which was still a strange concept you could barely comprehend, the truth of the matter dawned on you: You liked him. Not just because he was a surprisingly amicable voice coming out of your vintage radio, a lively constant in the uneventful life you had made for yourself in Louisiana - he had become important to you, irreplaceable, even. An essential element to your life. You couldn't imagine how you'd gone so long without him, and yet, here you were, lost without him, scrambling through the hours until you could talk to him once more.

"Something on your mind, darling? You're awfully quiet today."

You held your fork and knife still above the salmon you had just been about to eat. It was the first meal of the evening in a long time where you weren't spending the entirety of the preparation time speaking to him, lost in thought about your blossoming feelings. He had gotten excellent at reading you like an open book - you should've gotten used to it after a couple of weeks of him catching on to every little change in your demeanor and knowing just what to say, when you were feeling happy, upset or nervous.

"Oh, um... no. It's nothing Al. Work had me in a wringer today."

"Is it your co-worker Susan again?" You could basically hear his eyes rolling, making you chuckle. "That name must be cursed, every single soul with that name is a menacing pain."

"Maybe,", you muttered, nibbling on a piece of the roasted fish. "This one is mostly just an ornery old bitch."

"Taking the words right out of my mouth, dear." he laughed.

There's was a comfortable pause, with just a gentle background noise of his ever-playing static and an easy, melodic tune coming from his program.

"Is that really all that preoccupies that pretty little head of yours?"

You blushed, picking at the food with your fork. "Bold for a guy who's never seen me to assume my head is pretty."

The radio crackled with pops and feedback. "Bold to assume I can't see you whenever I want, little dove." he said, his voice strangely deeper, tinged with something you didn't catch at the shock of his words.

"You... what?"

"And I can most assure you,", he purred out of the speakers, "pretty is a well fitting word to describe you."

He hummed in approval when your cheeks gained color, as if he knew his comment threw you off guard and made you turn a lovely shade of pink, but it didn't make it any less enticing.

***

"Alastor, if I didn't know better, I would say you have become smitten with this mysterious gal you're blabbing on and about."

Rosie giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful, friendly swipe. "When will I meet her? Come on now, you can't hide her forever. Or are you afraid she'll like me better?"

She laughed, and Alastor forced a toothy grin. His long time friend was the only one he talked about you with, and he knew she was intrigued whenever she could smell a blooming dalliance, especially with a notoriously abstinent bachelor like himself. Normally, he would laugh at that thought with a healthy dose of mockery, but he found himself to be less and less aversed at the thought - if it would be you. Impossible, of course.

"Nonsense, Rosie dear, nonsense,", he chuckled, taking a large sip from his coffee cup, a heavy hand bringing up a plate stacked with finger sandwiches. "And I'm afraid you won't meet her for a long time, maybe never. Humans seldom traverse to hell in their lifetime, and who knows if the little darling will take on the trip downstairs?"

Rosie coughed in her tea, her blackened eyes wide in shock. "Human? It's a human girl you've been courting here? Oh, Alastor, you old fool."

Alastor scrunched his nose, "Talking, Rosie, talking is all we do. And yes, she's a human. I don't see the quandary in that. It's just a little fun."

"Well,", she huffed with a small, thoughtful frown. "I would've hoped for a little more sense in you." The tall demonesse set down her teacup with nimble fingers.

"You may not call it courting, but if it quacks like a duck, it's a duck, love." Rosie ignored the indignant look Alastor gave her. "You know as well as I do that such a connection is dangerous to entertain. Humans are fragile and fragile things tend to break. And when they do, the owner mostly follows. You need to break this connection off."

Rosie gave him a sad look as his ears flattened against his head. She would've been more than happy for her oldest and dearest friend to have a partner on his side, someone good and honest who really cared about him, maybe loved him even, as unlovable as he was. But she had to protect him from the silly idea of possibly falling for a living, breathing and supposedly untarnished soul, and the heartbreak that would surely follow. "Don't make the mistake of breaking your heart, dear friend." she smiled, a tint of melancholy hidden in the red of her lips.

"I think it's far too late for that."

She offered a handkerchief, but Alastor waved her off, his smile more faint and close to a frown than she's ever seen.

***

The first day where nothing but static noise came out of the radio, you were irritated but just thought: 'Maybe Alastor has something to do'.

The second day of static you grew concerned. 'What if something happened to Alastor? Was he okay?'.

On the third day, you were panicked. 'Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore! Maybe he met someone in hell, someone that he could talk to whenever he wanted and not through an old, dusty radio?'.

"Please talk to me.", you whispered into the empty room. Your knees were pulled to your chest, and you sat on your couch, eyes fixed on the radio in the bookcase. Your eyes stung with the tears threatening to spill. "Please, Al. I miss you." You shook your head, chuckling sadly. It had only been 3 days, but they'd felt like an eternity. The world had seemed silent without Alastor's constant chatter.

When night fell for the fourth day, you were half asleep, eyes red and burning and tears still staining your cheeks. You talked for hours into the void of your house, the radio now moved to sit in front of you on the coffee table, growing more and more desperate as hours passed. Talking faded into pleading, and pleading into begging.

"Please, I'm sorry, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry...", you mumbled into the wooden furnishing, resting your cheek against the top of the machine, eyes slipping shut with fatigue and defeat. A dry sob slipped past your trembling lips, as your hands desperately grabbed the sides of the antique device.

"Alastor please, don't leave me alone here...", you whispered with the last of your strength, before your body succumbed to your exhaustion, your unconscious mind welcomed the darkness.

If you had stayed awake for just a moment more, you would've, maybe, heard the faint shuddering breath beyond the static rumble. But you didn't. So you had no chance at knowing that, Alastor, listening to every word, saw and heard you at your weakest, and all it did to him was stir the embers and give the blaze an opening for the flames of his anger at fate to rage.

Work had called, again. Susan of all people. Threats were made - either come back to work, or don't come back at all. You smashed your phone. It was useless anyway. What was the point without...

Alastor wasn't here, hadn't answered for seven days now. And you had spent the whole time talking, begging him to show himself, just show himself and tell you what you did wrong, just talk to you one last time and then you'd stop, if that was what he wanted. You became obsessed with the orange light of the illuminated screen, imagining the flickers were maybe signs from him.

You stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped almost anything, you just sat, in front of the radio, unmoving and unwilling to miss the smallest sign of his return.

Every single minute stretched into agony, and every breath that left your lips made a fresh tear roll down your paling cheeks, until your body couldn't produce them anymore. Then, you cried wordless whimpers and moans, even started praying to an unknown entity.

It wasn't as if Alastor owed you anything. It's not as though you thought the two of you were anything other than two kindred souls, one human, one demon, talking to each other. As a result, it wasn't like you had the right to anything from him.

It was strange to consider the connection the two of you shared: Something more than acquaintances, something closer than friends, and yet never fully crossing the line beyond it. The unpenetrable boundary dividing life and death in between.

Your eyes fell on a large, old crucifix on your wall, staring back at you with pity.

For the first time in days, you left the sofa, took it from the wall and burned it on your gas stove, watching the face of the nailed figurine slowly melt in the fire.

***

It had been eight days of excruciating, one-sided silence.

Eight days Alastor cursed his cowardice as he sat, red eyed with claws digging into his scalp, as he listened to you plead for him to talk - To answer. To do anything. Anything, but leave you alone, he heard, as if the words were spoken right in his ear.

Eight days of watching you slowly detriment from the eyes of the shadows he was able to manifest above, tugging on the very fabric of the world to move you, to keep your mind from going where it shouldn't go.

He kept telling himself it was for the better. His shadows murmured persistent reminders that he should find entertainment in your growing lunacy. He was the radio demon, after all. He shouldn't care if this wisp of a human were to perish, should laugh at your wails of agony and despair.

But Alastor never felt less like laughing. Your dried sobs and pained apologies for things you never did wrong in the first place filled his head, taunting and gnawing on him with feelings he thought he was unable to feel: Guilt and Regret.

It was as Rosie had predicted - he was becoming weak. But weakness was something that should be avoided. Had to be. He knew. Being weak, being feeble, would make him vulnerable, make him into the prey his cruel from already portrayed to the world he had to inherit. He couldn't allow it. Couldn't let his feelings for you bring him down to the levels of the sinners in hell he would tear apart and laugh while he did it.

That's why he stayed silent. Endured it, all of it, every word, cry and plea. Stayed invisible and silent, waiting for you to move on, forget him, shut off and leave the radio, never to turn the dial again. For your sake and his.

When the connection broke, on that eight day, Alastor could feel your resignation, your peace with which your pale hands gripped the electrical cord at it's base to pull. And he was suddenly filled with the awareness of something horrible, like a premonition. It set his already battered, aching heart in an ice cold grasp of dread.

His room exploded in green light as he expanded into his full demonic form, his limbs threatening to pull and burst at the stitches and his smile splitting his face almost entirely in half. He had to reach out, had to reform the connection to the radio one last time, even though nearly impossible.

You were about to do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

***

Your car broke down just where it needed to. You took the radio out of the trunk, knocking the hood two times for a goodbye, the key safely in the ignition. Maybe some other poor soul would find and repair it, make happier memories with it.

You clutched the wooden device closer and started to walk. Indigo blue faded into black as you looked up to the sky that was sprinkled with glowing, shimmering silver dust, stars blinking in the unimaginable distance. There, but out of reach.

Just like him.

Your dry sob stung in your throat, but you didn't really feel the pain. Your eyes were fixed on the path to your final destination, right in front of you.

The Crescent City Connection Bridge was mostly abandoned by traffic at this time of night and provided just enough covered spaces to hide you from some foolish saviors eyes.

You didn't need to be saved.

You didn't want to be saved.

Because you were about to save yourself.

There was nothing waiting for you in the other direction than the one you were going. So, with slow but steady steps, you walked towards the middle of the bridge, settling on a place next to a metal pillar and looked over the railing onto the shimmering waters of the Mississippi River.

Alastor had told you about the river, how he loved to watch the steam boats floating on it from the radio station where he worked at when he was alive. The station was long gone, you didn't even find out where it had been in the first place, but you liked to imagine that you were looking at the same scenery now that he had been looking at when he peered out of his booth in his radio tower.

It made you smile through the tears... You were glad the end was somehow connected to him, even if it was most likely just your naive imagination.

It felt like the device in your arms was emitting static energy, prickling over your arms, hands and fingers as you caressed the mahogany wood gently, feeling as though the radio was shaking in your hands, trying to pull you back from the fenced ledge.

A quiet sob escaped your lips, turning into a giggle and into hysterical laughter. You sat down between the railing, and hugged the radio close, trying to breathe as you closed your eyes, resting your temple on the worn, warm wood.

"It'll be okay, Al.", you said quietly, your voice unnaturally hoarse and rough from lack of use and dehydration. "I'm coming. I'm coming to you.”

With one arm around the radio, holding it tight against your chest, you turned to stand on shaky legs, gripping the railing with one arm and, with one final glance at the stars above you you smiled. You heard sirens in the distance, and some people shouting from a sparkling streamliner passing under the bridge. Time was running short, so you didn't wait to put first one foot over the fence, then the other, taking a deep breath.

"I guess doves were always meant to fly."

And, with that, your body twisted, turned and leaped, falling as the light on the radio, firmly pressed against your heart, began to glow in deepest crimson and swirls of green.

Falling like an angel would descend from grace.

Part 2 for closure

[alarrylarrie]

Hi. I hope you're doing okay 💞

I want to ask.. how to deal with people shaming you for grieving a person you didn't know personally? It hurts so bad to be ashamed of this.. I posted some ig stories on close friends with tributes for him, a friend replied: "Jesus Christ, it looks like you lost a relative. He is just a celebrity that died." It fucking broke my heart. I've seen people saying the same thing online too about our fandom exaggerating for grieving Liam..

It fucking breaks my heart, how can people be so insensitive? It fills me with shame and guilty to be just feeling emotions. I hate this. I hate it.

This is a good question.

I actually had the news broken to me by a non fandom friend who had no idea the kind of live grenade she was launching at me. She knew I loved the band of course, but I don’t think she and my other non fandom friends realized like… how deeply my love for all of those boys and their music and this fandom went.

To her, he was just another celebrity. Like Maggie Smith. Or James Earl Jones. And yes, maybe a bit more tragic because of how young he is, but not like. Not this.

(Thankfully my irl friends have been incredibly gracious and kind about me processing this grief.)

Some people just won’t understand. And that’s not fair, and it feels isolating. Your feelings are valid though. And I’m sorry you feel shame and guilt, but those feelings don’t belong to you because they originate from someone else telling you how you should feel. Other humans don’t get to tell us how to feel. Our feelings are our own. To process, to dive into, to heal from, etc.

Maybe it’s a lucky thing- that they don’t understand. Maybe they should consider how fortunate they are, to just see this as another celebrity passing, and not be so affronted with grief over it. There are a million reasons to grieve the loss of someone. Celebrity or not, his life was cut short. He died tragically. He’s someone we love. This changes a lot of things, unexpectedly. Our collective futures look different now. All of these are reasons to grieve. And frankly- we don’t have to justify or validate our grief to anyone, really.

I’m so sorry, darling, that someone else has tried to tell you that your emotions, that your experiences, aren’t valid. They are. They very very very much are. You come sit next to me, okay? We can grieve in our ways together. I love you very much, and I’m sending you a big hug. 🫂

[uthseikoashx-goingmyway]

things in IWTV season 2 i'd lose my mind if it actually happens (or when. because some of those things will happen.). sorry for the mistakes btw

1. Claudeleine romantic relationship

Claudia finally having a vampire lover she can be herself with. the romantic & sexual tension. the heart to heart Louis and Claudia would have before changing Madeleine. the yearning. the tragic ending. the change of dynamics in the De Pointe du Lac family. the disruption of it all.

2. an exploration of Armand's relationship to religion, faith and God

specially in 2022. past religious crisis. how he articulates his vampire nature, his faith and his despair. lots of hints of TVA. God and art. religion, Armand and Louis. his religion (conversion from being christian to being muslim in this universe? if so, why?). "i serve, a God," would you mind to develop?

3. dramatic irony about Daniel's past and Devil's Minion

the rent boy. Daniel actually realising he had been a dick about that. "oh." after understanding the irony of it all. Armand talking in riddles and hinting at something Daniel is totally ignorant of. young Daniel's life and messy, loving and weird relationship with Armand. some activism. 2022 Daniel getting old, sicker and sicker. laughs. angst. tension. yearning. longing stares. petty remarks. revelations.

4. Loumand complex relationship

the love and the suffering. how they are both deeply attached to each other. how they show their care. the place Lestat holds right in the middle. how they deal with Claudia's death. what Louis really thinks about it. the tension. the yearning. how their relationship actually developed. the extent of Louis' memory alteration and how it plays a role into their dynamics. the after: how Armand helped Louis. messy divorce vibes. petty moves. to what extent their relationship is doomed. how one person can love several persons and in different ways, and how complex and delicate it is.

5. The Groan™

what is that. a metaphor for sexual arousal? Lestat scratching the walls? Rashid trapped? some clues. what the fuck.

6. Antoinette alive and kicking

and coming back right on time for the trial, because it would be 1) so fucking funny 2) utterly tragic, considering Claudia would be killed for killing nobody.

7. amazing outfits

amazing outfits

8. lots of french

i'm french

9. Claudia and Armand's relationship

Claudia being protective of Louis. Armand dealing with it. some sort of bond rivalry. both of them aware that something's wrong with the other. Armand and Claudia's similarities being acknowledged (age, killing a human they loved — Charlie, Ricardo — and complex situation regarding their maker), even a possibility for some kind of understanding and compassion (making the end more tragic). Armand seeing a some of Lestat in Claudia. Claudia seeing Armand's love for Lestat. a common love for theater and spectacular shows. that awful experience before Claudia's death.

10. Louis and memories

the photos he takes (where are they in 2022? will they clash with Louis' tale?). the metatextual dimension of themes such as: unreliable narration, memories and perspective, autofiction. Daniel calling out Louis' avoiding strategies. Louis calling out Daniel's rudeness and biais. how Louis really sees his relationship with Claudia? the gap between Louis' and Armand's recalling. a deeper exploration of his superimposed identities (black, queer, american man; in 1940, 1973, 2022). learning how to trust someone new after being abused. the rain metaphors. Louis saying the most poetic and heartbreaking thing you'll ever heard. his relationship to vampirism as he joins Armand's coven. grief and loss of a family member. hallucinations and how they are filmed / manifesting. guilt. loving Claudia and Armand. loving Lestat, still. etc.

tysm for coming to my tedtalk. it was very self-indulgent but very much pleasant. i won't be mad if it doesn't happen (obviously!), or not like i imagine. still, it's fun to imagine and put that here on tumblr. no shame on lestat, i just have no special things i'm waiting for about him, and will be very happy indeed to see him again. salut

[kiwriteswords]

My "Unpopular" Aaron Hotchner Opinions*

*My opinions, solely! I am not trying to discredit anyone else's headcanons, thoughts, etc.! These are just my thoughts, which I was encouraged to share despite being really terrified to share some of them because they go against the grain.

Also, some of these are NSFW!

Aaron Hotchner would not date someone who was in their twenties. As much as my twenty-something-year-old self would love that, I don't see him realistically picking a partner with such a significant age gap.

Reasonings:

Hotch is a profoundly introspective and careful man. He would hesitate if he felt the age gap could lead to judgment or imbalance in the relationship. He would also be hyper-aware of the psychology behind older men gravitating toward younger partners.

He would worry about differing life stages (e.g., career ambitions, desire for children), causing long-term complications.

Aaron Hotchner would not date a member of the BAU.

Reasonings:

As the leader of the BAU, Hotch holds himself to high ethical standards. He’d worry about how a romantic relationship with a subordinate could appear, not only to his team but also to higher-ups in the FBI. He would not want to waver the team's or his superior's trust.

Hotch has a need to keep work and personal separate as much as possible; these blurred lines don't seem like something I could see Hotch crossing.

Aaron Hotchner would not be as dominant in the bedroom as one would think. However, he would lean more into this if his partner was into it, but not outwardly for himself, as I often read.

Resonings:

While Hotch is a natural leader, he does not seek power for power's sake--it's always about responsibility and protection. A lot of his natural leadership qualities come as a trauma response, and I believe he might let that down entirely in an intimate setting.

Hotch’s romantic and sexual relationships would likely be an outlet for him to shed his professional stoicism and connect authentically. He wouldn’t want to bring elements of authority or control into that space, as it would conflict with his desire to be vulnerable.

Aaron Hotchner would not want to be called "Daddy" in the bedroom; again, he may lean into this if his partner was for it, but I do not see him outwardly wanting this.

Reasonings:

As a leader, Hotch is very aware of power dynamics and strives to ensure equality and fairness in all relationships. He would probably be uncomfortable with any dynamic that places him in a position of authority or dominance, particularly one that invokes paternal connotations.

The show strongly implies that Hotch’s relationship with his father was strained and possibly abusive. He has mentioned that his father was strict and may have instilled a fear-driven form of respect rather than genuine love. Given this background, it’s unlikely Hotch would want to emulate any dynamic reminiscent of a “father figure” in a non-familial, intimate context. It might even be triggering for him.

Aaron Hotchner would likely not be the fantastic father we all write about if it were not for Haley's death and Jess's support.

Reasonings:

Hotch’s transformation into a great father was largely a result of Haley’s death, forcing him to reprioritize and step into a role he might not have fully embraced otherwise. While he always loved Jack, the tragic loss gave him no choice but to confront his shortcomings and dedicate himself to being there for his son. If Haley had lived, Hotch’s role as a father would likely have remained secondary to his career, with much of the emotional and practical parenting responsibilities falling to Haley.

The Jess of it all also comes down to writing, for the writers to plausibly continue having Hotch be this great leader and agent while also stepping up to the plate as a father. He realistically could not do it both.

On this note, I hate how villainized Haley is in the fandom. Haley wasn’t a villain—she was a woman who made a difficult but necessary decision for her and Jack’s well-being. Her divorce from Hotch doesn’t diminish her love for him or her sacrifices as a partner and mother. It highlights the complexities of relationships and how even two people who care deeply for one another can struggle to make it work under extreme circumstances. Blaming Haley oversimplifies their story and ignores her humanity.

Aaron Hotchner and Beth lacked chemistry, and it felt very OOC for Hotch to be so unaffected by their parting ways; this is more a flaw in the writing versus the character(s) or fandom.

Reasonings:

Beth was introduced abruptly and with minimal background, leaving her character feeling one-dimensional. The audience didn’t have enough time to understand her motivations or personality, making it difficult to invest in her relationship with Hotch. She felt more like a plot device to show Hotch moving forward post-Haley than a fully realized partner for him. This, again, falls on the fact that Bellamy Young had moved onto Scandal, and they were forced to end things with that plot, so who knows where it actually would have ended up. 

Their dynamic felt almost too casual, which was jarring considering Hotch’s usual intensity in his relationships, especially after Haley’s death. Also, I think Hotch might be suspect of the idea of someone kind of watching him in the park for so long? But I do feel like the writers had no other way for Hotch to realistically meet someone.

Beth’s role could have been an opportunity to explore how Hotch balances dating with being a single father and leading the BAU. Instead, their relationship was surface-level and didn’t push Hotch toward any real emotional growth. The writers didn’t use Beth to challenge Hotch’s guarded nature or explore how he might rebuild trust and intimacy after Haley’s death. Too much was going on during this season and the following, but they opened the door for this and did nothing. 

When Beth and Hotch part ways, Hotch appears surprisingly unaffected, which feels out of character. Given his emotional depth and the weight he places on personal relationships, fans expected more from him—if not heartbreak, at least some introspection or acknowledgment of the loss. This lack of reaction felt less like a natural response for Hotch and more like the writers were rushing to close a subplot they didn’t know how to continue.

I have more, but figured I would ease into this!

[thesaintofnevergettingitright]

My personal fav will always be

“That’s what she said”

(it’s simply a classic)

But even like,

“The flat we rented was a palace for my queen/if by palace you mean the asbestos and beans from a tin and the gin that you brewed in the bathtub🙄”

creates this effect too. It’s very legitimately my favorite thing about TAD.

I love how the amazing devil writes these incredibly beautiful and complex lyrics that make you cry but then also have lines like

"Yeah we thought you were mental YOU WERE TALKING TO TREES"

And "could be ghosts or monsters or a robot vampire- i dont know!"

[the-badger-mole]

Aang was a kid who was the sole survivor of a genocide. Why doesn't that factor in your opinion of him?

I've talked about this before, but his age and tragic backstory are irrelevant. ALL of the main characters are children with tragic backstories, and they are more empathetic, have more growth, and their tragic backstories...actually matter.

Listen, for all people whine about how often Katara talks about her mom (which isn't really that often), it's clear how her mother's death shaped her as a character. It's clear how witnessing her mother's death formed her worldview, and Kya sacrificing herself for Katara made a mark (she never turns her back on people who need her? COME ON! That is obviously her trying to save people the way she couldn't save her mother). Even her wanting to learn how to fight and not heal (which is an insane battle advantage, btw) speaks to her trauma around not being able to defend her mom.

Even Sokka's trauma around the loss of his father and not being deemed old enough (big enough/ strong enough/ smart enough) to go with Hakoda and the other warriors come through in his recurring need to prove himself (coming up with the big battle plan for DoBS, breaking his father out of prison, learning swordplay, etc.). It's woven so neatly into the narrative. His trauma matters to his story.

Toph is the least developed of the Gaang, and her issues with her parents have more impact on character than the destruction of the Air Nomads have on Aang. Heck, Zuko's entire arc hinges on compound traumas.

Meanwhile, Aang's trauma....? What trauma? Yes, the loss of the Air Nomads is a tragedy, but we, the audience, only know it's a tragedy because we have real world knowledge telling us so. Personally, I was in 3rd or 4th grade when I began learning about the Trail of Tears, and in kindergarten when I began learning about slavery (I was born in Harlem. The kindergarten I went to taught us accordingly). When I saw ATLA, I had a frame of reference for the genocide of the Air Nomads. But it didn't really seem to bother Aang all that much. Oh, sure, it did come up when it was convenient to the plot, but it mostly seemed to be a way for Aang to expound on the superiority of Air Nomad philosophy and society to whoever he's talking to. Aside from that, and his first rush of feeling when he found out what happened to them, the loss of the Air Nomads doesn't seem to effect Aang all that much. If he doesn't care about his tragic loss, why should I?

Aang is a fictional character. I don't have to extend the same pathos to him that I would to a real life person. It is the writers' duty to make me feel for him, and they did not. The way he's framed is the issue. And here is where I really start retreading things I've said before, but I think it needs to be repeated (again and again and again). Aang is not framed as someone who has a lot of growing up and learning to do. I could give him a pass on his worst traits because he's a child and still growing, but the show doesn't frame him that way. The show wants me to see him as a precocious imp who's wise-beyond-his-years but still has a cheeky lil' mischievous streak. It's not trying to frame his lying to the quarreling tribes in The Great Divide as a bump in his journey to becoming an effective leader bridging different people together. It wants the audience to laugh at him getting one over on the foolish tribes who absolutely went back to fighting as soon as Appa was out of sight. The show isn't framing his desperation to get the village in Avatar Day to like him as a foolish pursuit he needs to get over if he wants to be strong in the face of adversity. It wants us, the audience, to feel bad for him because his charm isn't immediately bringing the people over to his side. It wants us to be indignant that the villagers don't see how important Aang is and wont' support him. The show isn't framing Aang's non-con kisses with Katara as bad because it hurt her. It isn't making a point to that Aang needs to care about her feelings. It wants the audience to feel bad for Aang and hope for Katara to come around because he's A Nice Guy™️©️®️. Aang is never shown to be a particularly good friend to any of the Gaang, let alone him being kind to strangers just because that's his heart. All of that I would allow to be just him being a dumb kid with growing to do if the show hadn't made it clear that Aang was perfect and didn't have to change, and in fact the world should change for him.

Aang's age and tragic backstory are irrelevant because the show made them irrelevant. All they left us with was a Gary Stu character who hides his selfishness under a thin veneer of cheerfulness. It's not good enough.

[kittyit]

I'm not exempt from enjoying and proliferating incredibly dark and shocking humor and making insane jokes (I actually do this all the time) but I do think it's a really bad thing for society. I can remember two formative times I had this crazy doubling experience of humor vs. horror at my own loss of humanity and empathy, where I experienced shock humor as shock first and the humor wasn't there. The first time I was probably 12 or 13 and was on the livejournal community "omgtoosoon", I don't recall what had happened, but some huge tragic event, and of course the joke in there was to make memes (they were still macros then) as quickly as you could. It wasn't common internet practice to do this yet at all. And I remember looking at whatever it was and having this horrible feeling like I was spinning or falling off the earth and thinking this is bad, this is very bad for humanity. And now it's instant and it's constant and it's the majority of people online, it's almost all millennials and zillennials and zoomers etc. I literally made a 9/11 joke earlier and it's ceased to shock me. And I can hold that at the same time as being moved to tears by that anthology especially one of the pieces about watching it happen and also remembering how scared I was as a kid that day, all the crazy stuff that went on. Devastation and suffering. Internet shock humor is burning out parts of our brains and it sucks and I'm there with everyone else who experiences it. Just an insanity of modern life

[cosmicjoke]

The Tragedy and the Hope of "Attack on Titan's" Ending:

I swear, the people that criticize "Attack on Titan's" ending and, particularly, the people that complain that it rendered everything that came before meaningless, don't understand what "Attack on Titan" was actually about. They don't understand Eren and why he did what he did, and what the overall message was warning against.

They wanted Eren's actions to actually solve Paradis' situation and for the island to be saved, but Eren didn't enact the Rumbling for Paradis, and if the island had been saved by his actions, it would have undercut AoT's actual themes, which ultimately warns against persecution and generational guilt and war. AoT isn't meant to have a happy ending, it's meant to show the consequences of forcing people into a corner and leaving them no recourse. It's meant to warn against cruelty and prejudice and greed and revenge and ideological movements that lose sight of humanity, etc... by showing us the inevitable and tragic end result of those things.

I see people comparing JJK's ending to AoT's and saying both suck, and that just tells me how little those people actually understood what AoT was saying.

The cycle starting over demonstrates how prejudice and war and cruelty never lead to anything good and doesn't solve anything. It just creates an endless cycle of violence and hate. That's the point of us seeing Paradis destroyed in the end. Cruelty only begets more cruelty, only creates more destruction and despair and waste. If Paradis had been saved by Eren's actions, it literally would have sent the opposite message, that peace and prosperity can be gained through hate. That's what Floch's whole character represents. He doesn't just want to secure Paradis' survival, he wants to literally punish the rest of the world for the persecution of the Eldian people. He wants to make everyone pay for that. He's a hateful character, and the island being saved through Eren's actions would only have lent weight to what Floch was preaching. But instead we see Paradis destroyed, the same hate it began to spread under Floch's and the Yeagerist's cruelty eventually coming back onto it, the same as it came back onto Marley.

There's so many themes in AoT though, and one theme that's vitally important and which is also demonstrated by the ending, with the 104th and the warriors coming together to try and secure peace, and with Levi ending up with Gabi and Falco and helping to rebuild what was lost, is the importance of compassion and empathy and carrying on even in the face of the world's cruelty and indifference, and also how it's important to fight against the inevitability of that cycle of hatred, even if ultimately it's a war that can't be won. The point is to keep trying, and to not lose sight of compassion, to not lose sight of our humanity in a world which does its level best to beat it out of us.

That's also why I always say Levi is the character that most embodies true heroism in AoT, because he's the character that's the most compassionate and kind, that most retains his humanity, despite having lived the cruelest and most deprived life. It's truly a heroic thing, and a heroic man, who can retain his humanity in this world. Levi retaining that empathy and kindness even in the face of the total despair and horror of his childhood and young adulthood, and in the face of so much loss later on, encapsulates this idea of never sacrificing our humanity even when we seem to have every justifiable cause to do so. That's the hope in AoT's otherwise very bleak ending. That's the hope that can be held onto even when people like Floch and the Marleyan government will always continue to exist and sew destruction and inhumanity.

That's why we see Levi doing all he can, even against the backdrop of a ruined and desolate landscape, to bring a little joy to others. That's what makes that final shot of Levi in the anime so meaningful. Here's a man who's lost everything. Lost his mother. Lost his childhood. Lost his innocence. Lost every friend he ever had. Lost the use of his body. A man who spent years alone and in total isolation from anything good or kind, surrounded instead by the most mercenary and cut-throat people imaginable, discarded by society completely, raised in violence and taught to be hateful and selfish. And yet, he's the most selfless character in the series, the most giving and empathetic and understanding. Despite all he's had taken from him, he finds it in himself to keep giving whatever he can. We see that generosity and unending kindness manifested in the simple gesture of him handing out sweets to refugee children. Levi has nothing to his own name, not even his great strength, but he continues to give.

Despite having every reason to become as cold and cruel as the world around him, as cold and cruel as mankind always insists on being, Levi instead remains full of love. And again, that's true heroism.

And so he truly encapsulates then that theme of the world being "cruel but beautiful". The cycle of hatred may never stop, because bad people will always exist, but so too will good people to stand against them and what they represent, and that's what makes the fight worth it. That's what gives us hope even against the tide of horror and despair.

[sepublic]

            I’ve already brought up how the loss of glyphs is deeply tragic for Luz on an interpersonal level, given her relationship with the Titan as being kinda found family in a spiritual successor to Manny sorta way…

            But on a larger, cultural level? It’s straight-up genocide. Because glyphs were an ancient practice; They were a tradition at one point, as Eda explains. The earliest witches used to learn glyphs from the Titan on her knee, and eventually stopped when that became redundant with the more convenient source of their bile sacs.

            But it was still an important part of their history; It was how witches and demons first communicated and interacted with the land and nature, and their ‘god’ in a mutualistic way. It was how they respected their world.

            So even if glyphs were evidently forgotten by the Deadwardian Era, they were still available for those who needed them… And in comes fucking Philip, the racist colonizer, and because of his possession of the Titan’s heart, she finally dies and glyphs can no longer work. They’re obsolete now.

            They still happened, but now that part of magic, of history and this world, is gone forever. It’s cultural erasure, it’s what Luz alludes to when she mentions how scars from Belos’ reign still remain, like the left arm being permanently shifted upwards; Who knows how many were displaced, how much the local flora and fauna and ecosystems were devastated, with the desert of Palm Stings now colder than even the knee itself?!?

            It’s just so deeply painful because Luz really helped to bring back an ancient, lost tradition and unlike Philip, breathed new life into it; Glyphs could be used to help people without bile sacs, who didn’t utilize spell circles as well. We actually saw Luz experiment with using individual glyphs, and figure out the combos; Things she did on her own. She shared knowledge of glyphs with her loved ones, like Eda, King, Lilith, Gus, Amity, etc.

            There really was going to be a return of something lost, but now it’s gone forever because of a bigoted old white man who was too bitter about things that are different and needed to feel big and important by standing on the shoulders of others. It’s cultural genocide. That memory where Belos' destructive lies about wild magic drive witches away from the knee that they still had the potential to learn from, leaving behind only ruins in the present-day? With some murdered via the coven sigils that cut them even further off from their own magic they forgot glyphs for? It's truly symbolic of the final nails in the coffin.

            And it’s also desecration of the dead, too; Caleb is not the only one to have had his corpse bastardized by Belos, misused against everything he stood for. Belos also misused that corpse, first by stealing the Titan’s name, then misusing her magic, her resources such as Palistrom wood… And finally possessing that body literally, which is what murders the Titan. It’s like colonizers bastardizing and salting the land that locals carefully maintained a proper relationship with, and keep in mind this fucker is a literal Puritan colonist. There’s no respect, not for the dead and/or past. Compare that to Luz, who lives on in Manny’s memory and makes him proud.

            I’m just imagining Caleb and the Titan watching, in agony, as their bodies are used to create a vicious mockery towards their actual kin, who remain totally unaware, and in the case of the Grimwalkers, it’s another lineage that is also abused. Meanwhile the Clawthornes remain unknowing of their past because colonialism erases history, hence Belos hiring Flora, and hell even getting Lilith to participate in her own historical erasure, as both Clawthorne and witch!

            Meanwhile, King remains oblivious and unconnected to his own heritage. And most of that can also be attributed to the Titan Trappers and Archivists, themselves perpretrators of genocide. So King and Eda go without knowing their heritage for so long, in Eda’s case she may never find out entirely, because it’s part of the many voices who are lost and silenced due to genocide, buried in the past to be forgotten.

            And you know one thing more that fucks me up? It’s that I genuinely suspect that Philip initially had it easier with glyphs than Luz, and that he made them more difficult for her. Because based on his dialogue by finding the Ice glyph in a snowflake, and his diary and memory portraits showing him arriving in the isles via Eclipse Lake, at the Knee…

            Philip was probably shown his first spell on his first day in the Demon Realm. And it makes sense; The first human, the precedent that the Titan would’ve known by this point, was Caleb; Himself Philip’s brother, who was also raised to be a witch hunter, yet learned better. We know people can view both worlds from that in-between realm, but the Titan still isn’t omnipotent and can only watch through a limited number of cubes at a time, while having to know what and who to look for.

            But even so; With Caleb’s precedent, there could’ve been hope that Philip would follow in his footsteps, that he would learn and be more, and actually choose to be better instead of defaulting to Puritan predestination and the like as an excuse to stay the same and absolve him of responsiability. But we know what happened; Philip started off easy, but then made things difficult by rejecting the Titan’s compassion, by misusing her magic for evil and murder and genocide. The Titan showed Philip compassion first and this was how he responded.

            I really feel as if there’s an implicit reluctance with how Luz is taught glyphs, one at a time, in separate scenarios, usually as a result of character development and/or engaging with the world around her, which are things the Titan would really need to see to start trusting another human again (and if he knew Luz gave Philip the last glyph, that would also add to the wariness that Belos caused by manipulating her). Luz didn’t learn her first spell until a few days into her journey, and Luz had already had a few perilous encounters by that point! But she continued to brave her way through everything, continued to accept the isles and its messier side.

            And so the Titan showed Luz her first spell, and only that, in response to Luz needing it, wanting to learn magic, and most of all humbling herself to be kind to the Titan’s own son, and listen to him; Because neglecting King was what low-key led to Eda’s transformation placing everyone in danger, since he only told Luz about the elixir and agreed to steal it for the sake of getting her attention.

            So that makes Luz listening to the Titan for the first time, intentionally, with her second spell –Ice, Philip’s first- so much more hard-hitting. The way she wanted to live out her dream so she went for the wand behind people’s backs, but then recognized and owned up to her mistakes. And she really was just a lonely kid in need of guidance, and not a stubborn adult committed to his cruelty; Luz always had an open mind! She always wanted to learn!

            And she got to! She learned each glyph at a time… And that’s all the Titan could do for her, something the Titan had already done for so many others, long ago, before they realized they had bile sacs and didn’t need to rely on the land around them as much. Luz still experimented even when she just had one glyph; She understood how intent mattered. She and Lilith built off of each other’s knowledge to collaborate and create combos. Meanwhile Belos, he agonized because he made things pointlessly difficult by refusing to adapt to the ways of another land, and only got his first and last glyphs by taking the compassion of someone who knew them and betraying it.

            Plus there’s what I said about Lilith, her whole thing as Caleb’s descendant, directly abused by Belos and belittled by him, made to participate in her own erasure loss of past, separated from that… Really, one could argue the Clawthornes are like the Boiling Isles equivalent to the Irish; Yeah they're white but that doesn't mean they aren't victims of British colonialism that sought to 'conquer the land' and all that.

The Clawthornes are generally known for big orange hair, with Lilith's curly hair being straightened and dyed dark-blue in an attempt to assimilate within the Emperor's Coven's (AKA Philip's) standards of conformity. They worked with the land via the Palistrom carving and began to lose that because of the trees being endangered by Belos' gluttony, as well as the curse disabling Dell; The very curse created by the Archivists, who also invaded this world, the very curse cast by Lilith because the coven system influenced her to feel shame over wild magic and embrace hierarchy instead.

The curse leads to Eda's loss of bile magic, something very important to her and witches in general, and Lilith loses her own trying to mitigate her own mistakes. So not just glyphs are taken from witches, but even their own bile magic they initially replaced them with, and the other resources of the land. And Lilith is cut off from her family, her real family, as she's taken in by an ancestor who has deliberately distanced himself and loathes her on multiple levels as something to be 'fixed'.

But Lilith gets her hair back and re-embraces it, she gets her family back. She still manages to somewhat retain her past; After all, Lilith gets to go to the Deadwardian Era herself! And she meets, as much as it loathes anyone to acknowledge it, an ancestor, and influences history in a subtle yet personally meaningful way. And Lilith helps re-establish contact with the lost practice of glyphs by figuring out how to combine them, which goes hand in hand with her passion of being a historian, and her additional function as both parallel and especially foil to Philip.

             Just… Luz and the Titan. And Caleb. And Lilith. There’s dead people and there’s history and there’s land, there’s bodies and respect. There’s compassion and actually working with people and finding no shame in that, instead of stealing and taking credit. And in the end, even though they manage to regain some things, a lot was still inevitably lost to genocide, and possibly gone forever.

            But the effects and legacy still linger, Luz still remembers and holds dear what the glyphs did; And she honors not just Manny’s legacy, but Caleb’s, by bridging the gap between humanity and witches, and showing both can co-exist in harmony. She helped his descendants, and even the last Grimwalker, find happiness and reconnect with their heritage, even if they don’t know just how close it is to them in particular. Luz honored the Titan by clearing his name, finding his son, and ensuring the last of the Titans is no longer alone and in understanding of his heritage. Luz even made amends with the Titan’s other greatest regret, harming the Collector, by making peace; And she proved glyphs were still useful, they were still kind, and that compassion wasn’t wasted.

            So even if the Titan’s glyphs are gone now, Luz still honored their memory by sharing them freely and helping, teaching, cultivating. The Clawthornes are rebuilding the Palistrom forests, among them is Hunter who as a Grimwalker was one of the purposes for which Belos devastated those natural resources for. And King… King is beginning to develop his own glyphs! And Luz is learning her first one, Light, from a Titan all over again, because she showed King kindness.

            That honors the Titan’s memory by keeping it alive through her son; Who keeps the memory of glyphs alive through the ones he’ll sustain and share with everyone else, and those glyphs will spread to those without and even with bile sacs. And a lost art is brought back, irreversibly different but still intact in the important ways. People are relearning old practices to apply to a new world, because the past is gone but it still lingers and is simply… reborn. Despite the scars and changes it survives and is still itself.

            And with how all of this loops back to Luz’s relationship with her father Manny, who passed away, and how all that was based on Dana’s own relationship with her deceased father, who left her a final gift in Pokemon Red that she chose to cherish to this day, and embrace her own creativity and keep it alive. It’s a story about things dying but still managing to live anyway.

[coffeebeanwriting]

Reasons to Kill Your Characters

Killing your characters at the right time (and having a reason behind it) is important. Here are some reasons behind why you might want to kill a character or two.

1) It can serve as poetic justice. This is when the bad guys are punished and the good guys are rewarded. When the antagonistic force finally gets what they deserve, it can satisfy the reader. If you’ve ever watched Game of Thrones, you know how angering it is when the bad guys always preserver. Giving them a well-deserved demise can be like lemonade on a blistering hot day for your reader.

2) Can death strengthen your current theme? Is your theme love, friendship, betrayal, good vs. evil, survival, etc.? Death can be used to intensify each and every theme. Someone who’s afraid to love because of past loss, a friendship bond broken by a death, a betrayer killing your protagonist's friend. 

3) It can develop your protagonist and advance the plot. While you might not want to necessarily kill a character for the sole purpose of hurting your protagonist, if the death does achieve that, you’re developing them! Does this death motivate them to push forward? Does it put a hole in their plan? Create new conflict? Deaths can be great for moving the plot forward or putting obstacles in the way of your cast.

4) Killing certain characters can bring closure to their story/arc. Sometimes death can be the best way to end an arc. Depending on who the character is, after they’ve served their purpose to the story, is it better to let them linger, have their story continue off page somewhere or to kill them?

5) Death can build tone. If your tone tone is happy and lighthearted then this isn’t for you. However, if the tone you’re going for is tragic, dark and/or dreary... death can intensify that vibe. (Not just the death of characters... but the death of a time period, happiness, animals, flowers, etc.)

6) Death adds realism. Loss is apart of life (sadly). Is it actually realistic for everyone to survive at the end of an epic fantasy journey? Especially when most of them are novices learning along the way, running into skilled villains, dangerous creatures and mysterious illnesses? Death comes and goes whenever, wherever. This unexpected element can add realism to your story.

7) Shock the characters and your reader. This one is risky. You’ve probably heard it before-- killing a character out of the blue with no foreshadowing or reasoning can upset the reader. However, you can still have an abrupt death that has meaning. A selfish (yet beloved) character who suddenly sacrifices himself for another. He wasn’t expected to die, but the way he did had meaning.

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