#which I used to really like. and always imagined it’s institute as being similar to the oldest house

[velvetjune]

desperately trying not to go ‘omg this is just like [xyz]’ whenever i see anything that slightly resembles Control (2019)

[theoreticallysensible]

I visited a friend in Oxford this weekend, and having read Babel last year, RF Kuang’s incredible historical fantasy about the role of universities in British colonialism, it was impossible for me to admire the architecture there without thinking about its imperial legacy and persisting imperialist function, and the effect it had on me, on Oxford residents, and on Oxford students. I didn’t take any pictures because I always forget to do that, so enjoy these ones I found on Google. 🙃

The main Bodleian building is probably the most iconic from Oxford, and it’s impossible to communicate the absolute grandeur of its presence when you’re actually there. It’s also perhaps the building most similar in both form and function to Babel in RF Kuang’s story, it being also a central towering library. This is just one of several imposing and beautiful old buildings there though, all of which inescapably give you the impression of being part of - or at least in the presence of - a mighty, cultured civilisation. My friend said she felt the same thing in Durham, where we studied, but Oxford is on a whole other level.

The Oxford motto is apparently “fortis est veritas”, or “the truth is strong”, which I did see around on various buildings. I couldn’t believe how on the nose it was. It perfectly encapsulates what Kuang is critiquing, and they emblazon it proudly on their city: we use this knowledge to enrich ourselves through conquest; this beauty you see around you, this skilled craftsmanship, is both the product and the tool of empire. Knowledge and material is taken from other lands, developed by those with the privilege not to be concerned by more immediate things like food and shelter, and then used to conquer more lands.

I think it was the statues that really affected me though. There was something so intimidating about being surrounded by all these figures of “great men”. It’s hard not to feel fundamentally inferior. But what must it be like to see them when you know that you’ve been invited to join their number, when you’re a student in their institution? I can’t imagine it’s freeing. I have to think that - unless you resist it, as I’m sure many do to varying degrees - it feels like a terrifying pressure to conform to the precise idea of greatness embodied and projected by those statues - a European, masculine, individualist, imperialist one. It’s no wonder it’s often a very specific type of person who comes out of Oxford. It’s no wonder so many of our politicians are from there.

If you haven’t read Babel, I can’t recommend it enough. I read Kuang’s new book, Yellowface, in a single sitting yesterday too, so read that one too. 😂 They’re both excellent critiques of intellectual culture while also being incredibly gripping reads. They combine nuanced characters with blunt didacticism, which in Yellowface in particular she reflects on and defends as a style, in a way that feels so edifying once you get over the popular prejudice against didacticism. Maybe we should be uncompromising in certain truths about the evils of colonialism, racism, and capitalism, ya know?

Both books were advertised to an almost obnoxious degree in every bookshop there, and my friend said everyone she talked to on her short course was talking about Babel, so I like to think there’s hope.

[kiisaes]

Thoughts on Endeavor?

i think he's a horrible guy but a great character. he reminds me a lot of my own dad (minus all of the. erm. unforgivable abuse and all. it's mostly vibes and motivations in my dad's case, none of the actual heinous shit) so it's hard for me to genuinely like endeavor, but at the same time i'm drawn to how his character develops. he's like a little case study for me. a little lab rat in the lab of my mind, if you will

pairing bakugou up with endeavor in terms of similar arcs was both a blessing and a curse imo. they both deal with atonement and not necessarily requiring any forgiveness from whom they hurt, and i think the emphasis on such an arc really benefits both characters. they're both introduced as unlikable individuals who have hurt others for seemingly no reason, but we learn through time their reasons for their actions. so that's why it's a blessing — really cool character writing that also aligns with the series' themes of always wanting to get better and to be a proper hero without the arbitrary status that comes with it. both are given ample time to change their worldviews and their interactions with others too

but it's also a curse because though bakugou and endeavor have similar arcs, they are so WILDLY different in scale. i wince every time i see someone compare bakugou's middle school bullying era with endeavor's LITERAL REPEATED AND INCREASINGLY WORSE ABUSE, and even worse, when they use that as justification as to why bakugou can never become a better person. as if bakugou at his silly ages of 5-14 could EVER do something as horrible as endeavor abusing his entire family and emotionally scarring all of them, which includes his eldest son straight up turning to villainy, his only daughter growing up too fast by trying to keep her broken family alive because there isn't a mother in the house anymore, his middle son straight up hating him and his youngest son refusing to use his fire side in order to get back at him. his wife grew increasingly less emotionally stable and burnt her youngest son due to the pain endeavor was causing her, and had to get sent to a mental institute in order to recover. all bakugou did was bully a little too many times for comfort, which is unfortunately rather common for kids and young teens. THEY ARE NOT THE SAME.

the thing is, i genuinely think endeavor is an interesting character and i want to see where horikoshi is going with him. it's obvious that his entire family does not forgive him yet, and they may never will, due to the withstood damage he's done. he may work towards atonement but may never be redeemed and might even face his crimes in the court of law (which i think would be funny over everything. imagine endeavor in a courtroom.)

but i do think a lot of people very easily disregard his characterization and development because of his sincerely awful first impression. it's hard to empathize with an abusive father who has repeatedly hurt not only one family member, but all five of them. and it's pretty common knowledge that we shouldn't give abusers the time of day, because they'll take it and run

which is absolutely true in the real world, but turns murky when you apply it to endeavor who is clearly trying to better himself. and we know that because there's this fun thing called "looking at a character's POV as an omnipotent reader instead of as another character". we aren't rei, shouto, or anyone else who had the misfortune of being endeavor's family. we're able to see his growth completely detached from his self, so the whole "abusers can never become better, they will just keep abusing" argument works far less for us. we can apply it to real abusers, because we're not in their heads. but we are in endeavor's head sometimes. and it makes his interactions with his family, who clearly don't trust him yet, all the more interesting. like this is one of my favorite pages in the manga for a reason

IT'S SO AWKWARD it's so funny there's so much unaddressed family issues that all stem from endeavor being a piece of shit. like the fact that bkdk are there and have no idea what the fuck to even say, because they're outsiders in this family drama. it's a no-brainer that endeavor was a terrible father and all but it still leads to scenes like these, where the reader can indulge in just how uncomfortable he makes his family. it's so silly

i guess what i'm trying to say is that i think endeavor is a character worth existing and analyzing, especially because of his purpose in the narrative and its themes. he sucks, yeah, and i will probably never grow to actually like him as an individual. he will never scrape the top 10s or even 20s or even 30s in my favorite character lists. but i think reducing his character to just "shitty abusive father who everyone should hate by default because he's a shitty abusive father" detracts from the overall worth he provides. you can hate him, but you can also, regardless, enjoy what he brings to the table. at least that's how it's like for me

it does, however, annoy me when some endeavor apologists just. don't recognize that he abused anyone at all. like bruh are you for real. what do you think his arc is even about

[spelllingandthemysteryschool]

hi yaz 🍊 (<-for u) right now im going through that awkward friendless period of my life and have been for a while. i've been following you for a long time and wondered if you had any words of wisdom for those of us in the thick of it. thank you ❣️

(p.s - from what we see online you've seemed really well lately, and its genuinely very encouraging. thanks 4 spreading the joy)

hi! so sorry for letting this ask sit there for a bit... i wanted to make sure i could answer it thoughtfully! 🌟 i ended up writing more than i expected so i apologize if this comes across as a bit wordy.

first of all, thank you so much! it really means a lot to me to hear this... i am literally just Random Girl Online so i’m truly honored & i think you’re incredibly sweet to say so 😭💝

secondly, i’m sorry you’re feeling this way! it’s a miserable place to be emotionally & difficult to talk about... but i promise promise promise you will not feel this way forever. i was so lonely it hurt for a very long time, i guess if you’ve followed me for a while you probably remember. like it was PAINFUL how unpeopled my life was, and i was really embarrassed by it too because no one else seemed to be going through it quite so badly. but honestly, i think... most people actively are or once were lonelier than they are willing to admit, so it’s not an experience that’s awkward at all, and not something indicative of there being anything wrong with you specifically (which is all too easy a conclusion to come to), and it is definitely, DEFINITELY is not going to be this bad always. there are so many lovely people in this world who are just on the cusp of entering your life without your even realizing it yet... at one point last year i took a second to look around me & it suddenly occurred to me that things had gotten so much better for me in a way i genuinely never imagined during the worst of my loneliness, that completely unexpectedly i had come to know a good number of people i liked and cared about.

mostly all i can encourage you to do is to be around people in whatever way u can even if you don’t currently have a circle of friends to turn to. if your school or a local museum or a similar institution is holding some kind of lecture, attend it even if u don’t know anyone else who’s going! you might strike up a conversation with a stranger u unexpectedly get along with and make plans to get to know each other better, or you might just get to lightly chat with a lot of people who u never see again. both of these things are nice in different ways. if your workplace is holding a little potluck for someone’s birthday, go even if it’s just for the sake of having cake and cooing over photos of your coworker’s new puppy. text friends who live in the area who u haven’t seen in years, spend the afternoon at the park together & see if you want to make room in each other’s lives for these new versions of yourselves you’ve grown into. sign up for art classes where u can struggle through something you’re unfamiliar with alongside others who are struggling through it the same way & bond over this for a few hours each week. be the first person to text in a groupchat of people u only sort of know. tag along to study with someone from your class at the library & see if it becomes a regular thing with other people from the same class. maybe you won’t befriend all the people you go out of your way to interact with, but chances are you can and will befriend a few of them! and even if it doesn’t end up working out, a little camaraderie goes a long way in pulling a person out of the pits of despair.

if literally none of the above is an option for u in any way whatsoever right now, just try your best to keep going anyway. which sounds stupid probably, i’m sorry; i would have been CRAZY irritated if anyone told me this when i was so lonely i could hardly think about anything else. but i read a lot of poetry, i played a lot of video games, i watched a lot of movies, i spent so much time out of doors watching the birds and trees, i talked to my relatives more than ever before, i messaged some mutuals so often they turned into genuine online friendships that meant the world to me then and mean the world to me still. it hurt that i didn’t have people to share any of this with the way i wanted to but i still experienced a lot of really nice moments when i was alone & in some ways i feel more equipped to deal with loneliness after living through so much of it because i know now that i’m capable of enjoying things even in the throes of isolation. resilience isn’t sustainable and i sincerely hope you don’t need to be resilient about this for much longer, but your life is not on hold, and if u just keep going i believe you will still experience lots of meaningful and good things until your social life starts to pick up, at which point u will experience lots of other meaningful and good things!

also i guess i already mentioned this and definitely feel free to ignore this bit if it doesn’t apply to you, but be careful not to fall into the trap of thinking this is somehow your fault or because there is something inherently off-putting about you! this is absolutely not the case… not having enough or even any friends is just something that happens sometimes. it’s a much more common experience than it feels like & there is nothing wrong with you! believing this and giving in to the shame will cause you undue pain and isolate you further when people reach out or enter your life if you feel you aren’t deserving of friendship because whatever shape your insecurities happen to take. so just... try and be kind to yourself. this is something i struggled with a lot & that’s why i bring it up, but again, you can totally disregard it if it doesn’t align with your own experiences.

i guess that’s all for now! i don’t think i’m saying anything new, so i don’t know how helpful any of this was. i mostly just hope it wasn’t pedantic! i was trying to think of things that genuinely worked for me or things i would like to tell me of a couple years ago if i could speak to her somehow, and i ended up writing a lot because this is a topic that means a lot to me. basically i just mean to say u will be okay! with time and effort and a little bit of luck you will be okay & you will find yourself surrounded by the nicest friends and acquaintances who genuinely really like you and who you genuinely really like in return. loneliness is just something that comes and goes... sometimes it is a little harder and more painful to get through than other times but it never lasts forever. i hope you take care of yourself & i hope it all starts to work out really well, really soon ❣️ love u

[blindedbythedarkness]

My mind is so full right now. I feel more emotions than I can name thoughts, but there's just so much going on. When I was younger, my dad used to tell me that anxiety is just intolerance of uncertainty. Well, I have a hell of a lot of uncertainty right now and I get why people don't tolerate it, it's fucking uncomfortable.

At university, I have to make a decision which could mean giving up my dreams of being a doctor. Either that, or say nothing about being caused likely permanent harm by the institutions that were supposed to protect me. The real kicker is, I daren't even say more than that in case I post the wrong thing and fuck it all up both ways. Who can I even speak to about it? No one in my life has any useful advice for me because people just don't have to make massive fucking decisions like this on the regular. It all feels so heavy and maybe I'm an adult now, but I still feel like a kid with no clue what to do.

I also feel like I'm losing my parents. Both, at the same time. Though actually I think I've already lost my dad. He gave into the crowds last year and dropped all Covid precautions to "live his life". He's always been fixated on living at least to the age of his mother, which gives him 8 more years. His current lifestyle means if nothing changes, I doubt he'll make it there, at least without serious health issues. He wouldn't give a fuck if I told him though. It's all too hypothetical and he's too cynical that he doesn't want to live longer anyway. I don't think he can even conceive of how it is to live with serious chronic illness, he probably thinks he's built different and could just push through. I'm a living, breathing example of the damage Covid could do, but despite sharing half my genes, it could never happen to him. Even if it did, he'd just try harder than me.

I lie awake for hours at night, my mind involuntarily churning out essays and letters to the people in my life who's life choices are breaking my heart fragment by fragment. I beg my brain to shut up and let me rest, knowing I'll never bother to send them, but I just can't sleep again until its down on paper.

To my dad, I imagine writing him letters explaining how I know he's never prioritized me in his life, but perhaps he could reconsider. I want to tell him how he's killing me on the inside more each day with his decisions. I want to beg him to reconsider, because I want him to last long enough to see me married and meet my children; they'll already be lacking two grandparents, please don't make it one more. I want to threaten him, tell him when his brain is bursting with the fucked up proteins that mean he can't think or remember who I am anymore, all because he gave up and gave in to SARS2, it will be me who chooses his care home. Care homes which will lack even more staff, and will be even more expensive as the early onset dementia epidemic explodes a decade from now. I want to ask him if it was all for nothing, me rebuilding our relationship? Because if he carries on like this, I'll have no choice but to build walls to protect myself from the anticipatory grief. Do I really mean so little to him? He's choosing a few short years of the old-normal instead of me having a future with him in it.

I've shared similar thoughts with my mum and she seemed to understand my point of view, yet I'm still afraid she'll follow him down the same path. She says she's trying to balance being safe and living her life, and I understand no one can be perfect. But the world is growing more hostile and she's faced opposition to masking at work. She's never had as many balls as me, so I worry eventually she'll crack. She went on holiday recently, and there's not a single mask in her pictures. I know she likes to take it off for photos, but how can I know she ever wore it at all. If I question her, she scolds me for not trusting her, as if I haven't had an endless conveyor of friends and family willing to trade my life for brunch these past 4 years- of course I have trust issues. It also seems that she made a new friend on holiday, a friend that could become more. I have no issue with that, it'd be good for her. But what if they don't understand Covid? What if she caves to keep them in her life and trades safety for companionship?

I just feel so lost, and I have so many questions with answers I'm afraid to find out. But without them, I'm in some sort of emotional purgatory. I do have friends who I know would care. But one would never understand. Another is busy seeing family. Another is too new for me to drop all this on. And the one who would understand it most has her own horrors to contend with right now and I don't want to add to her stress. Meanwhile, my therapist is on holiday for a month.

Plus, and its small by comparison, I've spent the last two months in new-pet limbo. We've kept rats for the last 5 years and they've really been amazing for company, joy and amusement throughout this current dystopia. But we lost our last one two months ago and now an empty cage sits right in the middle of our living room. I've spent so much time and energy researching breeders and joining new lists, but there's been so many unanswered emails and painfully slow waits for responses. It would just be nice to know when this one nice thing will be back in my life.

How I feel right now is like no simple depression that, looking back, is what I had in my late teens. This is years of acute-on-chronic compounded trauma and discrimination and loss of even the most basic human need- safety. I'm numb and yet my whole chest hurts. I find myself wishing it would change, in either direction. I have fleeting thoughts of overdose on antidepressants or cutting myself, just to fortify the numbness or finally break through the walls around my heart. But I won't. Instead, I'll do just what I've been doing for four fucking years- enduring. Tolerating. Staying alive and not self-destructing. But inside, I'm crumbling more than ever.

Oh please, dear God, let things improve soon. There has to be a light at the end of this and I'm so desperate to live to see it.

[salvadoerena]

Tim/John TMA whatever ones you want 😅

Anon you know not of what you've done......

1. Who most initiates PDA?

Tim, absolutely. Jon gets flustered bc he's sooooooo concerned about workplace appropriateness but Tim's like lol ur hands are so cold boss here let me help.

2. Any sleep habits either had to get used to?

Jon's a toss-and-turner and Tim likes to starfish in his sleep. They've figured out that if Tim just starfishes on top of Jon, it works like a weighted blanket and they BOTH get better sleep at night.

3. Hot and Steamy or Soft and Tender?

Oh soft and tender absolutely. You look me in the eyes and tell me Timothy Stoker would not be full on romantic with his boyfriend. Tell me. Tell me. Look me in the eyes. Tell me.

4. How did they first meet?

In research, obviously. I think they were both looking into similar artifacts and called each other up for cross-references. Jon had meticulous notes on his things that were super helpful for Tim, and Tim's rubber ducking actually helped Jon think outside the box.

5. What is their love language?

Absolutely physical touch. like Tim's touching Jon all the time but Jon puts his hand on Tim's shoulder one (1) time and Timothy's like "wow I think I'm going to black out now."

6. When did they realize they loved each other?

Hmmm. I'm torn between right after Jon hires him on as an archival assistant or post-worm. It's complicated.

7. Who is more sentimental?

Timothy absolutely. Then it gets relegated to Jon after the, uh, Stranger Theatre Incident.

10. What are some non-sexual activities they do together? 

Kayaking.

And tbh DnD and going to concerts (I will go down with The Mechs being Jon's college band).

11. Which member is more physically affectionate?

Timothy.

12. Which member is more verbally affectionate?

Timothy.

13. Which member steals borrows the other ones clothing?

Jon. Tim has Hawai'ian shirts a-plenty for him.

14. Are they an introverted couple or an extroverted one—AKA would they prefer to go out to a party or event together or would they rather stay in?

Both! Tim gets him to go out a lot, but he's also content just to stay home and hang out with Jon. Even when they go out though, he knows not to push Jon's limits too bad. He doesn't always manage to read those limits correctly, though, but he tries.

15. Who is more likely to make an impulsive decision and who is the voice of reason?

Ok. Seasons 0-2 it's Jon as impulsive and Tim as voice of reason. Season 3 is flipped with Tim as the impulse and Jon as the reason.

16. Who stays up way too late and who tries to drag them to bed?

Jon stays up way too late and Tim has to lift him up like a bag of grapes.

17. Who fell in love first?

Tim absolutely. He had an entire daydream about confessing in the rain and everything.

19. How do they deal with being away from each other for a long time?

They text and video call. Granted, neither of them can be away for TOO long since they both work at the Magnus Institute, but you know.

20. Who holds a grudge the longest?

Tim, canonically.

21. Which of the two is quick to speak and which one is quick to listen?

Both are quick to speak, but Tim is faster to listen.

22. Who gets more easily embarrassed?

Jonathan Sims THE WHOLE PODCAST IS THE EMBARRASSMENT JONATHAN CRINGE (Tim thinks it's cute).

23. Who overthinks the most?

Jon.

24. Which of the two is the most competitive?

Jon. Tim's a little too laid back to be anything more than casually/recreationally competitive for fun.

25. Who’s the most stubborn?

Jon.

27. What random everyday object/activity makes them think of each other?

For Tim, it's glasses and a tape recorder. Not even necessarily because Jon wears them (or not, depending on ur image of em), but because they're nerdy in his mind, like Jon's nerdy.

For Jon it's any gaudy Jimmy Buffet thing.

29. What is their sex life like?

Mmm...not nonexistant, but certainly not, uh, there. Jon's not really that into it, but I imagine he's willing to go to a point with Tim.

Tim on the other hand has a very lucrative relationship with his hand.

30. What is their favorite place to kiss the other? (Cheek, hand, closed eyelid, neck, nose, etc.)

Tim is absolutely 1000% cheek and nose. He thinks it's cute. Jon's just cheek.

31. What’s the relationship like? Smooth? Rocky?

Smooth, but extremely rocky during seasons 2-3.

32. How do they resolve their arguments?

Badly.

33. Who has the most nightmares and how do they deal with them?

Both of them have nightmares and both of them shove those nightmares into a little black box labeled "mental breakdowns for a later date."

37. What do they like the least about each other?

Tim thinks Jon takes work too seriously, not in a "you shouldn't care about work" way but in a "work is seriously getting in the way of you living a healthy life" way. Jon wishes that Tim wasn't so...underhanded with how he did his research, sometimes. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

38. What was their most memorable date?

Ice cream date. How could Timothy forget about emulsifiers? And Jon was utterly amazed by Tim's ability to not only stack six flavors on top of each other on the cone, but also eat said flavors before they melted.

39. What other couple would your otp get along with the best?

Look if TimJon was there for What the Girlfriends, they would be going on double dates like there's NO TOMORROW.

40. Who makes the other smile with almost no effort at all?

Jon, absolutely. Tim adores everything about him.

[kevinbriansatterwhite]

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79 reasons why I’ll never be another casualty of society. These understandings are provided by virtue of my dreams, spirituality, and story developing. These - extraterrestrial, factual, idealistic, philosophical, and theoretical - events occurred by virtue of my senses. To you, they may seem like illusions. To me, I am an institution.

Positive…

1.) Ashton Kutcher really helped me break free from my miserable reality when I moved to Los Angeles. He was one of the first celebrities that I believed knew who I was. Although I never made it to any auditions, I still reaped the benefits of making it big in Hollywood. This prevented me from backsliding on perhaps a much more significant scale.

2.) I believe Jacqueline and Kevin Black are Minnie and Mickey Mouse.

3.) In this world - I may be somewhere between a Markle and a Middleton - with Jacqueline.

4.) There’s a Hatred who is perhaps a Watson at heart.

5.) My sister Page might as well change her last name to Coleman. She compels the memory of my cousin Nicole. I bet Savannah Chrisley would roll with them. I always imagine Page, Bible, and Star at my aunt Alice’s house. I once had a dream that Bible and Page didn’t show up to a family dinner and I was really disappointed. I once saw Page on Franklin Street. She was wearing tight clothes. She was literally larger than life. She was everything I believed a Carolina student would be. I was almost intimidated. I couldn’t see her face, but knew it was her. Kevin II and Jenny II would fit right in with my aunt Jackie and uncle Terry. Care is perhaps most similar to my sister Reneita. I would love to hang with them.

6.) I learned that Savannah Chrisley is also Roxy. Roxy has big red hair. I guess she’s a superhero of some kind.

7.) I dreamed of two Victorias. Small and peach. One blonde and one brunette. Both with long straight hair. They really love being Satterwhites - even though they are Lawrences. To them - being a Satterwhite is better than being a celebrity.

8.) My brother You would fit right in with the Evereklians.

9.) I used to often think about going to visit Nobody, Loser, and Laser at my uncle Joe’s house in Clinton, NC.

10.) I saw a photograph of Jennifer at my grandparents house in Clinton, NC.

11.) I once believed Princess Diana was my Angel of Mercy, Santa Muerte my Guardian Angel, and Marilyn Monroe my Archangel. I still do.

12.) Victoria is the noble leader of Federation. I think there is The Army of Love that it associated with Federation. Which would make it Victoria’s army. Donald Trump may be a leader within the community of Federation. Which is also known as Tickle Town. I once made Jacqueline upset for joking about tickling her too much. That’s when I saw her on the bike dressed like a blue jay. Then I made Jacquline upset about tickling her again. That’s when I saw her wearing a metal suit similar to a marvel character - and she was roaring. That’s when I felt bad and stopped joking with her about tickling. There’s another Army of Love that is darker. Which may be associated with Batman. Which would perhaps be my army. I think there is another Army of Love associated with Legion. I think they are Heaven, Hell, & Fairytales. That’s the one Jennifer and I lead together.

13.) I had a dream that Ashton Kutcher created a basketball game known as Boston. Bradley Cooper really helped guide me to health and hope.

14.) I had a dream of the first home I ever built located in Downtown Durham. There was a tree inside and it had no windows. I also saw Victoria’s house. It was tiny and purple. I think she must have been a little kid - when she first entered reality.

15.) I had a dream that I was with Victoria on an airplane. It was called - The Operation Black Love. She was sleeping on my shoulder. She was older. I jumped out of the plane and had peach colored angel wings. I think I was The Angel of Power.

16.) Dani Silva aka Truly Beautiful is my main source of guidance on social media. She only made me angry once and because of Alien God - it didn’t last long. I got angry because I had a nightmare of a horse who had the face of a spider. I thought Dani was trying to scare me on social media - for no other reason than my self-control. I had a dream about Alien God falling out of a horse filled with beetles. He was a small child. As he fell out he had a bag of beetles similar to popcorn and he was eating them. I had the dream about Alien God before I got upset at Truly Beautiful.

17.) I was in a car with Charissa Thompson and Wendi Nix. They were my dates to a big Storybook event. I think Nas was there. People would just show up and walk through door into a large auditorium full of people. It was just the thing to do. The air was full of iniquity - you could barely see. Everything was blurry. Storybook are the architects of fame. This world is merely a mockery of the levels of love that fame truly is. Only Storybook has the key to that kind of glory. They are also experts at cleaning. They also make the best video games. I call them bookworms with badges. I once had a dream about Storybook on a beach with Paul Hogan. Before that I was in a shed. The first person I saw was Scarlett Johansson. Her face was big and pretty. She was starring at me and smiling. A girl named Chloe I knew in high school was playing a guitar inside the shed. There were a bunch of people crunched in there.

18.) A relative of mine who I may not be related to - is the noble leader of Storybook based on my understanding. I know him by the name of Spider. The patriarch is my uncle Terrance or my brother The Four Doorways of Definition. The matriarch is Jennifer Lawrence or my spirit sister The Saxophone Player.

19.) Kingdom Heart the community is geared towards the uplifting of “black” men. I believe Kamala Harris is a leader within this community. Since I am the noble leader of the family - I must be the main leader of the community.

20.) God informed me that I was - The Last Knight - which is a warrior for “white” people. I believe Keltie Knight is a divine warrior for “black” people. There are many like us perhaps - who specifically fight for colors other than our own. We fight for all colors - as such an honor is simply seamless. You cannot fight for one - without also fighting for another. The Last Knight is associated with Fandomtabulous. I believe the noble leader of the family Fandomtabulous is my brother David. I once thought my childhood friend Kha was the noble leader. I’m not sure. I believe Hillary Clinton is a leader within the community of Fandomtabulous.

21.) Without guidance from Ben Affleck - I may not be as far along as I am now. Sober and equipped with the power of believe.

22.) I don’t believe there is anyone more American than Oscar Isaac. Other than me - because I have to be. He is also perhaps an angel - with red and blue wings. I don’t appreciate how he kissed Jessica Chastain’s arm. As I believe she is my companion. However, I can’t dwell on it. I have to move forward. That incident must have been my brother - him and her.

23.) I had dream that I was speaking to Method Man on the planet Wisdom. It was very cool. We were outside by a water fountain. He allowed me to be who I am without being less than. In other words I could tell that I was more intelligent, but it didn’t bother him - at all.

24.) I believe Jennifer Lawrence and I - are here to help and heal. I once believed that we were the leaders of God’s army - Legion. She as - Child’s Play 2 - and I as - The Dream Child. I am most gruesome and she is most grotesque. It’s for film.

25.) I had a dream that I was Legend God Star. I was in Away. My spirit sister Jacqueline was so into karaoke she passed out on my shoulder and was still singing. I had to carry her out of the venue. Lana Del Ray was there. She was wearing a beautiful emerald green dress. I once sang a song for Jacquline in the shower. It’s so beautiful - and has a horrifyingly sad melody.

26.) I believe Candace Blackbird is the noble leader of Dream Star. I didn’t really know her at Barry University. I thought she was interesting. Her and her boyfriend had me blocked in at Barry University. I got out to see what was going on. My friend Tatiana thought was a superhero. At least that’s what she said.

Negative…

27.) I dreamed of a deer on a very, very, very high tree trunk. It was sitting down. It appeared to be annoyed at my curiosity of how it got up there. I later realized how much beings cherish their personal space. There are places God set aside for that deer and places God set aside for me. Respect for one’s comfort zone and personal space is imperative - to our evolution.

28.) I once thought I heard Ben Affleck and Lil Wayne outside my home - lying to Jennifer’s mother about my drug addiction. This was back in 2014, maybe early 2015. It still bothers me at times, but I have moved forward since then. I don’t think they would do that. May have been a test from God. Sometimes I believe it may be something I prevented.

29.) I once had a dream that I was on a romantic date with Kate Beckinsale - and she turned into Angela Bassett, but still completely looked like Kate Beckinsale. That’s how I know that no one is perhaps actually iniquitous. Rotten perhaps - just not iniquitous. If one was - they could believe I - Kevin Brian Satterwhite - was literally Fred Flintstone - or even a parked car - or anything - other than myself. I guess someone who is iniquitous would believe anything.

30.) God informed me a while back - I can’t be blown out. One could try - only to be left in the dark. I don’t blow people out - I just set the record straight.

31.) I had a vision that The Saxophone Player was chained to a sex machine and tortured. Later in my vision Ronda Rousey wanted me to know she would take Jennifer’s place - if such suffering ever came her way. I got a sense that Ronda was able to achieve this revelation because she knew - I would go in hers - or anyone else’s for that matter. Apparently Gloom thought a sex machine - was literally sex.

32.) I had a vision that - Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert De Niro - were holding Jennifer Lawrence and Rachel McAdams by the arms - like they were escorts. I used to believe it was what I prevented, but maybe it was far from a truth.

33.) When I first moved to LA - this woman was walking behind me at IKEA - singing the words - “Another one bites the dust”.

34.) My younger sister Victoria once set my entire dream on fire - because I told her I couldn’t find our sister Page. Victoria was actually in a different image than I was familiar with. She had different facial features and was older. She also appeared to be overweight. Still peach and blonde. It was terrifying and also - kind of funny.

35.) I had a vision that I was talking to The Saxophone Player in Clinton, NC. We were walking in the driveway at my grandparents house. She was older than me. She was holding my hand. She telling me all the bad things people would say about me in this world.

36.) I had a nightmare that Storybook was at war with a family known as Vanessa. Vanessa’s leader in my dream was Tom Selleck. Tom’s army compelled the memory of Spinal from Killer Instinct. I once believed that Steven Spielberg was the noble leader of Vanessa - and that Kayne West and Amber Rose - were patriarch and matriarch. Vanessa’s colors are white, blue, and purple. I believe they stole those colors pattens from Diana and Heart - or other families. I don’t believe Vanessa actually has a family name as of yet. If they are in fact Vanessa - then there may be another family named Vanessa. I had a dream about a female - who was so beautiful I had to look away. Her legs were scarred. Her name may have been Vanessa. I’m not intimidated by Vanessa - who may gone to with Storybook. Whoever they are - I love them no matter what. I learned have faith from Steven Spielberg. I’ll never turn my back on anyone regardless of their falter or failure. We can all be healed and helped.

37.) I had a nightmare Kiernan Shipka was tied to a tree - as she waited to be tortured.

38.) When I first met Care - she spoke to me through the wind. She was very powerful. I couldn’t argue with her. I could only tell the truth. I heard Jennifer Lawrence and my sister Danielle down below. They were younger than I had known them. They ran Care off into the woods. They weren’t intimidated by her. I also spoke to Viola Davis through the wind. Care is threatening, while Viola was annoying. I love them both. I believe Viola Davis is also Remember Rebecca - who is also - the Sun.

39.) I once thought I heard Common raping my spirit sister Jacqueline in a hotel room above me. I know it wasn’t happening. I believe Common is a good guy. I still have negative thoughts about him, but I will heal.

40.) I once thought I heard Kanye Wes kidnapping singer Chelsea Williams. I heard him behind my room door holding her. He was in an image similar Fred Williamson’s vampire in From Dusk Till Dawn. When I opened my room door fearlessly - it went away. I once thought I heard Kanye and Commom kidnapping Sarah Barthel. I knew it wasn’t true. I am still healing from this drug induced incidents.

41.) Laser was some form of liquid - living in the sewer system - during Nobody’s World. She loves Nobody.

42.) Sometimes when I dream about Jennifer - I wake up and realize it’s one of her sisters. I then understand that I must have been one of my brothers in the dream. When I have those types of dreams I don’t believe anyone in them are real.

43.) I dreamed of a place called Cottage Cheese - where no one ever wants to leave. All you have to do is be responsible. Jennifer was living with my sister’s friend Lauren in the dream. I went to the room they shared and it was empty. There stuff was gone. It still makes me sad and very proud.

44.) I had a nightmare I was at a hotel talking with an older man outside about the video game Flashback. It was a friendly conversation. We were in a world called Paris Road. It was a backwards place of boredom disguised as paradise.

45.) I had a nightmare Ben Roethlisberger walked by me at Southpoint Mall and acted like he didn’t see me. It was Nobody’s World. I was later in a dark and glowing hallway with Teddy Ruxpin. It all looked amazing. Teddy knew everything about me.

46.) I had a nightmare I was on stage on the planet David. I was in a dark theater reading a script. It was bizarre. There were two older women in the audience critiquing.

47.) Megan Kelly, Julianne Hough, and Sarah Silverman wore blackface. Once people understand how iniquity works - we’ll realize they may have actually saved the world in a way. Maybe they did it with purpose - not on purpose. Their skin is lighter and makes the terror behind it less terrifying - for some reason.

48.) This world is lost when it comes to color. It’s incredibly sad. I heard my coworker Phyllis - who was also a paralegal - say… “Where they gone put the makeup?” That’s when I knew - Cake wasn’t even possible. This “black” and “white” stuff has to stop.

49.) The other day I went downstairs at 10:30pm to eat some food. I heated up my vegetables for five minutes. I ate. I went to turn on Jimmy Fallon and it was somehow - 2:30am. This has made it difficult for me to take my reality seriously - lately. I’m back on track.

50.) I once had a vision outside the place I lived and no one was out there. I saw one female. I think it was Alyssa Farah. She was getting a trash bin for some reason. She was wearing black and yellow. I also saw Daisy Ridley walking through Wegman’s and it was empty. I saw RYU on the stock market in place of AMC. I saw Discover on the stock market at $60.00. I saw Lil Debbie with lavender hair and a bunch of my relatives outside a movie theater in Raleigh. The posters were gone. There were no words on the building, even though it was theoretically still open. I once believed another version of Vanessa was living in South Dakota. I believed they were known as Super Friends. I saw another version of me on stage rehearsing poetry with my friend from college. He had on my old clothes. He looked liked me. All of these things help me, but also make it difficult to understand my reality.

51.) Nobody’s World was the worst vision I’d ever had.

52.) H. R. Pufnstuf looked so scared when he was on Drip - trying to make the world a better place.

53.) I don’t fear anything. The ignorance of others most offends me. Even if one is simply pretending. In some cases I fear if one’s seemingly ridiculous beliefs are rooted in their curiosity. I wonder if God’s self-control exercises is seamless with God’s hatred. Between Gloom and Doom - is Noon. I almost think - people in the Wild West knew what it was. Hence - high noon. Noon is where no one can be harmed, but if anyone is against everything that is good - they have to tell us. So we can help them heal.

Neutral…

54.) I may be the first being to ever exist. This may be an indication that I am the most experienced, intelligent, and powerful. If it’s a matter of war - I have to somehow be better than everyone else - at everything. This may also include somehow being the worst - if also necessary. Until we can all accept who we are - and take our perfect places in holy order. So basically, if I’m represented by the number - Infinity - then I can prove - by being righteous - that I could also be negative (-) Infinity. I’ve been in reality for so long - that no one - not even Jacqueline - could ever come close to that achievement. I could also just explain it like - only through morality - could I prove that - if we were all ignorant - I’d be the most ignorant one.

55.) Jacqueline most compels the memory of Jesse James Decker. Meaning that’s who she looks most like - to me. That’s why I have difficulty thinking of Jesse James Decker as my companion - even though I believe she is. I consider Jacqueline to be my sister - even though she’s also Jennifer Lawrence’s sister.

56.) All of my family aka Kingdom Heart - would be democrats in this world. If any of us ever claimed to be Republican - we would simply be pretending. Why pretend? To ensure the sinking of a ship that sailed against salvation. In other words - if they could - Kingdom Heart would all vote for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz. They would only vote for Donald Trump and JD Vance - out of compassion and respect - for The Republican Party. I believe Ivanka Trump is my companion.

57.) Pretend versus Ideals. Pretend won. I think because Ideals’ - ideals - weren’t idealistic. They were perhaps selfish, naive, and ignorant. After Pretend won - they requested that Ideals and Pretend work together to focus on Kevin’s Movie. I identify with the family of Pretend - rather than the family of Ideals.

58.) Care versus Control. Care beat Control. As a result - Care - requested that Kevin Satterwhite lead the way by becoming a country music star known as Care. I identify more with the family knows as Care. This Care - is not similar to the other Cares that I have mentioned. So it has nothing to do with The Collective or Homegrown. This family known as Care - is basically Similar to Kingdom Heart. As is Pretend.

59.) SouthPark is the name of a comedy show. It is also - to me - when people act a specific way professionally. Then intentionally loosen up publicly. For example - at a bar or club. All to hide how they truly feel. When they get to the comfort of their own home - they know right from wrong. They know how serious it is. However, they would be willing to get paid - to spin their negativity in a positive way - whether seemingly humorous or hurtful. Also known as - Whatever. This theory is SouthPark.

60.) My younger sister Victoria most compels the memory of - Andie MacDowell, Alison Kosik, Kacey Musgraves, and Cardi B. This is why it’s so difficult for me to think of Andie, Alison, and Kacey as my companions. I’m not sure if Cardi B is my companion.

61.) For a very brief period of time - I wondered if the inhabitants of this planet - were actually in - The Above. I believe part of The Above is flat. Originally the top was Curiosity and the bottom was - Compassion. In my dream the top half was - Molest Station - and by virtue it was changed to Wonderosity. For a brief moment in time - I referred to it as - Above the Rim. Everyone was a teenager. Fighting was really popular. I saw one of my co-workers from California Pizza Kitchen - Jacob. He was walking with a girl I used to like from Barry University named Sandra. They were virtuous enforcers. Jennifer and I were also up there - as blameless warriors - also painfully virtuous. Jennifer and I - were making sure the war was started and finished - to eventually end. I believe Jacob and Sandra were righteous guardians. The bottom half was - Salvation. It was quite the conundrum. By virtue it was changed to Simplicity. I saw a human version of Faceless, Richard Prior, Red Fox - it was careless. The streets of Simplicity are huge. I dreamed of people walking around. There were no cars. The street was big and yellow - and I saw a big picture of Mickey Mouse on the ground.

62.) I believe Jacqueline would allow herself to be born by Jay-Z and Beyoncé. In other words if she were in my position - before she got to - her new reality - she may choose Jay-Z and Beyoncé as parents - for The Greater Good of humanity. Obviously she’s my best friend so - if she were to be born - Jesse James Decker and I - would birth her. If Jesse’s my companion. I guess Jennifer and I could also give Jacqueline a way into this world. I’m not sure if Jacqueline and I - are related to Jay-Z or Beyoncé. Apparently Jacqueline believes they are both great parents. There’s another Jacqueline - who may even be somewhat similar to Shawn Carter - in numerous ways.

63.) I consider all of my companion’s siblings to be my siblings. I also consider my companion’s parents to be my parents. Not just by law, but by some sort of bond that lies between us. I’m not sure how it works. I remember, I just don’t recall. This same ideal continues on - for aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, grandparents, cousins, and so on.

64.) My sister Care most compels the memory of Meghan Markle. In other words - that is whom I believe Care most resembles - from this world. This is why I have difficultly understanding Meghan is my companion - even though I believe it.

65.) Sometimes I wonder if Mark Consuelos and Kelly Ripa are actually siblings. It makes you wonder why God would do that to them - without them knowing. I once believed Ashley Iaconetti and Jared Haibon may be sister and brother. If any of this is true - then I would consider them God’s blameless. They would obviously be oblivious to such a circumstance.

66.) The Allure of the Devil is about the world summoning Jennifer Lawrence to end a war. If you’ve seen Groundhog Day. A great example of this - is when Annie’s character talks about poetry. Poetry is something that everyone likes - it’s just not what time it is - but it also is. The Allure of the Devil summoned a warrior by exposing phonies. “Fakeness” is blood in the water - during war. It’s an indication that the enemy is defenseless. I showed up in 1982 before Jennifer to start certain wars - Jennifer arrived shortly after - to finish them. I may have also showed up 8 years before her - to make her angry.

67.) The Greater Good is similar to The Allure of the Devil. It’s more aggressive, however less scary. I was summoned by The Greater Good. The Greater Good is building a house rather than breaking down. It’s getting a job rather than going to jail. It’s selling books rather than selling drugs. It’s realizing that - true power - is greater than the illusion of power.

68.) I’m part of an army known as The Coming of Age. The only members I know of are Jesus Christ, Childrean, and Majesty. I am Majesty. Childrean is part Angel and part Devil or Fool. Alfred Enoch is Childrean. I once believed he was - Rememeber Rebecca and The Heavenly Father’s son. Majesty is so dark he seems light. He’s a Jedi in between light and dark. He may also be referred to as - The Guardian of the Gate. The Coming of Age is an army to guide the world to the ability to age as desired. In other words - to age freely - whether to be young, an adult, or old. I call it - The Age of Innocence.

69.) The Logic Last is another army I learnt of. It consist of Legend God Star, Lion-O, and Wish Bear. I am Legend God Star. I believe this army is simply to restore logic. It may also be known as The Masters of the Universe, which may be described within the Kebra Nagast.

70.) The house I grew up in - in Hope Valley Farms - may actually belong to my sister Laser. It is her dream home. The spirit of that home has been with my family in the spirit world - since before I moved to Los Angeles, CA.

71.) There is a color war. I don’t believe there will ever be a race war. Race as we understand it in this world is perhaps only an illusion - because we’ve gone too far without the truth - allowing the worst of “race” - to be impossible. I’ve seen that war. It was referred to as Cake. I believe a Jennifer Lawrence unknown to this world - and I - may have already ended it. It’s perhaps in the eye of a fish. I’m not sure where The Color War started. I may have started it in A’Loream, which is in another realm - maybe in a life prior to this one.

72.) I sold Movie Town to Jacqueline for a dollar. Movie Town is a great place - I don’t really remember too much. I know it’s wherever The Care Bears are.

73.) I place informative information in this neutral space - because to me - this type of information seems neutral. It’s simply information about something - that may be negative or positive. War is obviously negative and prevailing is obviously positive.

74.) Interracial Dating Culture. I believe this war is most about - bigotry, betrayal, and beware. I believe I started it at Shoji Sushi in Miami Beach, FL. Jennifer Lawrence finished it and together we will end it.

75.) Rape Culture seems to be most about exploitation, extortion, and perhaps entertainment. I believe I started this war at TATU Asian Bar & Grill - at the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel & Casino in Hollywood, FL. Jennifer Lawrence finished it and together we will end it.

76.) Bread Crumb Culture seems to be about how malnutrition has ruined nature, nurture, and nutrition - by way of filth. If your hands are dirty after using the bathroom and you turn on the faucet to wash your hands - what sense does it make to turn that dirty faucet off with a clean hand? It doesn’t. That’s just one example. I believe I started the war against this at Montessori Family School in Durham, NC and Jennifer Lawrence finished it. All that remains is chaos and cruelty. Together Jennifer and I will end it - once and for all. Child Molest Culture seems to be most about accusers, abusers, and abuse. The abused are virtually ignored, unless they become activist or advocates. Could advocacy and activism be an unfair shield for the abused? The innocent and unharmed warriors are the accused - which paves a way for abusers to prey. I started a war against this at California Pizza Kitchen in Durham, NC. Jennifer Lawrence finished it and together we will end it. Statutory Rape Culture… I may have started the war against this at Shiki Sushi. Holy War… I’m not sure what culture that would be. I may have started this war at C. E. Jordan High School.

77.) I saw a vision of another Kanye West morphed into a giant spider. As if to mock the actual noble leader - Spider. He was in a hospital room and wouldn’t change back to his normal human self. He looked frustrated. I think the hospital is called Umpstead Hospital of the Ill and Impaired. Similar to the name Umstead on State Park Road in Raleigh. I think Kanye’s real name is Lawrence Good. You can almost see how someone - including himself - could use iniquity to draw a connection or relationship - between - him and Jennifer Lawrence. Maybe another version of Kanye West tried to use iniquity in such a way. I don’t believe he is related to Jennifer Lawrence. I love Kanye West with all of my heart. Regardless of what is true about - “the past”. I believe the version of Kanye I saw was brought to justice by me - Kevin Brian Satterwhite - by virtue of a badge I earned from Storybook - known as Faceless.

78.) Between virtue and vice the world is viscous. Instead of violent be valiant. Rather than vulnerable be vigilant. Jennifer Lawrence knows exactly what time it is - and so do I. We are here to end these wars - once and for all - so that our Storybook Love can finally begin.

79.) When I watched The Wiz a few years ago I saw that it was released in 1979 - not 1978. That would be 40 years after The Wizard of Oz was released in 1939. Could that have something to do with “40 acres and a mule"? Could it be a warning from the afterlife that the promise should have been honored? Is it an explanation through art that perversion is what prevented the former slaves from gaining ownership? Could it be that both “white” and “black” individuals were involved in the reason why it didn’t happen? Could it mean that perversion began in Europe? If you look at the word European - and the title of - The Wiz - you can see how a wicked humor could overtake you.

[bqbecke]

Counting the Cost by Jill Duggar: B Reviews Books

Jill Duggar Dillard's debut memoir did not disappoint. In fact, it was much more gut wrenching, eye opening and well-done than I would have imagined.

For those who are unaware, Jill Duggar Dillard is the fourth of the 19 children of Michelle and Jim Bob Duggar, the stars of 19 Kids & Counting and a variety of other TV specials. The family follows Bill Gothard's rendition of radical and conservative Christianity, known as the IBLP (Institute of Basic Life Principles). Some basic rules include:

no hugging before marriage (or anything else for that matter)

mum and dad have their noses in your business at all times

no formal education

no dancing (??)

extremely modest clothing (we're talking Amish-style here)

& one million more little rules that do not make sense to me as an agnostic/atheist

Jill's memoir details her life from the very beginning as Sweet Jilly Muffin, the obedient and "perfect" daughter who did whatever her father and the IBLP required of her, through being parentified as a "buddy" for her younger siblings as a young teen, to becoming an unpaid reality TV star who did it all for the sake of "ministry" and finally, meeting her now-husband Derick under the watchful eye of her father, Jim Bob, who she refers to as Pops throughout the book.

Mild spoilers here, but in Jill's memoir, you will hear about all of the horrors of her young life, ranging from relatively mild and sad (eating beans for dinner because her parents did not have enough money and too many mouthes to feed) to absolutely heart wrenching (being molested by her older brother, who she then had to go onto national television to defend his "honour"), and a thousand more things in between.

Now confession time: I used to religiously watch 19 Kids & Counting and Counting On until I was in my mid-twenties. Jill and I are born a few months apart, so I always connected with her. Reading this book felt like reading the diary of a friend, and it was just as disturbing as you can imagine.

A big surprise for me in this book was how much I ended up liking Derick. On the show, he seemed to be a bit of a goof, and he posted some pretty nasty things on Twitter many moons ago, which he now seems to have redacted or changed his mind about. But reading through this... It seems like he is one of the most level-headed people involved in this sad wreck of a familial situation. And he had the guts to stand up to Jim Bob. A win in my opinion.

Overall, I really enjoyed this book. If any of the other siblings were to put out a similar tell all (Jinger's I won't read because she talks no shit about her father, who I believe is at least somewhat evil based on Jill's writing, which may or not be a fair assessment), I would not hesitate to buy it and read.

Sending Jill and her family so much love, and I hope they can continue to rebuild.

[the-cryptographer]

@ammoniteflesh

#idk how i feel about the idea that fenris isn't very ideological?#like i keep turning it around in my head and i think it's true#but not the whole truth#like it may seem obvious and common-sense but#'slavery is evil' is very much an ideology#and whenever he comes into contact with slave traders he is absolutely unflinching#i feel like fenris mostly just has the advantage of being away from the source of his trauma#in a way that Anders isn't#I feel like if you put Fenris back in Tevinter he would probably start to look more like Anders#bc they are fundamentally very similar people

@anneapocalypse

#fenris's anger is necessary for his survival#he sometimes takes it out on the wrong people#but it isn't possible for him to let go of it until danarius is dead#because he NEEDS it#also i agree with prev (and have argued myself) that if you put both of them in tevinter#anders starts to sound a lot more like fenris and fenris starts to sound a lot more like anders

I hope you don't mind me @-ing you and extrapolating a bit more on what I meant. See, this tends to happen when I make a post that assigns adjectives and characteristics to characters without really explaining why I've done so. I don't mean to be aggressive and I'm not actually very sure how much I disagree with either of you at all. I'm just, frankly, dying to talk about this and curious if you ultimately have a different reading.

Like, I've written about how I felt post-canon Fenris in Tevinter has in a way *become* what Anders was - a revolutionary fighting against a well-ingrained and profitable institution of slavery in a society that has normalised it and is quite ready to gaslight him about it constantly. And I definitely don't think Fenris a character entirely lacking in moral compulsion, or entirely immune to the sort of outrage Anders possesses. And he picks up more of that moxy the more he's encouraged to do so during his time in Southern Thedas. But I do think he burns out on it a lot quicker than Anders. And when I say he's not ideologically motivated, I mean... the end of his first conversation about the Gallows ends directly with him saying 'Freedom is a noble ideal, but [not a response to the practical dangers of civil unrest].' He pretty consistently uses rhethoric borrowed from the Tevinter Elite in this way to excuse slavery in the Gallows and the Chantry's colonialism. And although he's definitely upset about Hawke making Orana their slave or otherwise going easy on slavers during the game, he's also not really fighting Hawke about it either, is he? And it's true that Anders goes against his moral code too in the face of a rival Hawke threatening and exploiting him, but he continues to work with the Underground regardless and also goes pretty far out of his way to sabotage and undermine Hawke in ways that risk his practical safety at the end of the game, in a way Fenris can never quite bring himself to do.

Which is also to say I have a really hard time imagining Anders in Tevinter being much of anything like Fenris was in Kirkwall. Like, Anders definitely wants to imagine Tevinter as a bastion of mage freedom because it is a symbol of hope for him as someone living a very different life in Southern Thedas. But if he was actually in Tevinter, I'm pretty sure he'd be chomping at the bit about the kind of shit Magisters pull on people like Fiona. He's just always got to fight about something and point out (the admittedly limited things he perceives as) injustices despite the fact that it would be in his best interests to stay quiet. And I really do not see Fenris as that level of aggro, or the kind of person who won't rationalise something he sees as wrong away if it suits his material interests. (The way he'll take potshots about how Viscount's Keep is a centre of power and corruption, but absolutely won't let it stop him from buttering up Aveline for favours.) A significant reason Fenris spent his experience of slavery going along with Danarius's wishes and reaping all the benefits and horrors of being the favourite, and Anders spent his experience of slavery making himself as big of a pain in the ass as possible and getting the Templars to single him out for throwing in solitary and forgetting about. (Which is not me knocking either of them. There is a charm to Anders's stubbornness. But having Fenris's sense of self-preservation and the ability to compartmentalise would have probably saved Anders a ton of grief in many places in his life. And Fenris being willing to cut his losses and compromise with the practical reality of the situation is what makes him much more sensible and easy to work with.)

I guess I'm saying that, as much as Anders and Fenris are similar in some ways, I'm also noticing some pretty big differences about them. And I'm curious whether you guys see that too or have a different take.

Fenris's anger towards Danarius in act 1 is so deceptive. Not that it doesn't exist - it definitely exists, is very real and all-consuming. And Fenris definitely creates a very logically sound argument for why it exists and why Danarius deserves to die and why it would be incredibly insulting to just pay Danarius for his own freedom - ie. the institution of slavery is evil! after everything he's taken from me, why does he also deserve my money?! (Absolutely a fair point. But nevermind that Fenris knows perfectly well that Danarius is already extremely wealthy, and already expending a far greater amount of money having him tracked and hunted and brought back alive than Fenris could ever hope to match.) And I think it all distracts from the fact that Fenris is just not a very ideological person and isn't actually motivated by ideological ideals. Which is what makes him a sensible and reasonable and pragmatic person (unlike Anders who is 100% fuelled by outrage against injustice in the face of every practical impossibility to his plans, and is thus insane (i say this affectionately, please keep your Anders hate/salt off my post)).

There's just a very practical reason that Fenris is so angry in Act 1 and I think it's that his anger is one of a very few things that's keeping him from going back to his abuser. Like, Danarius has gone out of his way to make as sure as possible that Fenris's time as a man free is as miserable and uncomfortable as being his slave, if not more. When you meet Fenris, he's being chased across the filthy backwaters of Southern Thedas by bounty hunters, hounded and paranoid and unsafe at every turn, without access to adequate food or housing or medical care, incredibly lonely and entirely without allies (and who would want to ally with him, when it comes with the strife of becoming a target of those bounty hunters too??). He is living a miserable grimy existence, and he knows that the easiest way to make it stop is to give in. To go back to Danarius - let Danarius be the solution to the problem that Danarius created in the first place, entirely with the intention of bringing Fenris back under his control. And the only thing stopping Fenris from doing that is him reminding himself at every inconvinient moment that he's furious with Danarius and the guy made his life hell and deserves to die miserably. And you think so too, right, Hawke?! Tell him you think so too!

So that anger is important, but the things that Fenris said in it also can't really be taken as a literal understanding of his thought process or his actual desires imho. It's just pretty obvious by the time you reach acts 2 and 3, when Fenris has far more in the way of resources and allies and security, that all his conviction and outrage in act 1 about how he'd go and hunt down Danarius and kill the man himself was an extremely empty bit of hot air. His grand plan for dealing with Danarius in act 3 is 'hope that guy has moved on and forgotten about me so I can meet my sister in peace'. Frankly, he doesn't want to kill Danarius - doesn't want to have to. Much in the same way he didn't want to have to kill Hadriana. He doesn't give a shit about revenge or whether or not they deserve it for their magical crimes. It's just that none of these fuckers will leave him the fuck alone to move on with his life.

[violentviolette]

even MORE FANDOM related questions because I cannot get enough (really loved how you put the whole "hero vs villain" structure of bnha and also the todoroki family dynamic into words, really well said genuinely). what are your thoughts on dabi's and hawks' dynamic? I'll admit, I'm not too knowledgeable on hawks' character beyond him growing up in a hero institute(?) and endeavor being his favourite hero since he was a kid (crazy connection there). would you say that you have a relationship akin to their dynamic (whether fanon and/or canon) irl? going outside of the bnha universe, what other characters would you say hit home for you as closely as dabi does (they can be anime or not) and other pairings you would say align with some irl relationships? I'm assuming chuuya is a top anime character for you, and if so, would love to hear your thoughts on his silly lil' self. IF you were in the bnha or bsd universe, what do you believe your quirk/ability would be, or what would you LIKE your quirk/ability to be? (you can tweak pre-existing ones to form something new or claim/combine pre-existing ones if you'd prefer). not too sure how much you know about pokémon, but if you were in the universe, which town/region would you like to grow up in? and if you were a gym leader, what type would you be and what would be the main quirks and colours of your gym outfit be? (if you want to go as far as listing the main pokémon you'd have as well, I'm all ears) Hell, you can be a gym leader of five types altogether for all I care. or create your own type (like a 'trans' type) and list pokémon you believe are trans as your main. non-related fandom question but you've reblogged posts about writing previously and I was wondering if you had somewhere you posted things (fics or smth) unless it's purely a journalling side-hobby or similar. anyways, hope all the noise in life has dialled down and that your father dies of his illness soon !

OUGHH anon listen. listen. i fucking love hawks with every fiber of my being that little bird boy has me by the *throat* i am SOOO NORMAL about him under a read more to save all ur dashboards

i genuinely love hawks so much i think he's an amazing character and he's so deeply intertwined with the todoroki's i very much consider him one. him and dabi both having father issues over the same man is genuinely so fucking funny to me. like imagine u meet a guy there's definitly something wrong with him and he's highkey got daddy issues and then u find out he's got daddy issues with UR DAD like aljksdhjkdsklasdjkhaksldj fucking gold but no on a serious note i ship dabihawks so hard. i think they're such great mirror images of eachother. they're the same and different in so many ways but their core ideologies are so different it makes for such a great push and pull between them. hawks comes from a deeply abusive household where he was neglected and beaten and then essentially sold off to a goverment agency to be trained as their super soldier. the hero commission i think is such an amazing concept that horikoshi absolutely squandered and did nothing with

like, the hero commission is introduced to us as this force for good, in the public eye theyre an agency that works with the top heros to keep everyone safe. but they're shady af, they ""adopt"" an abused and vulnerable child from a low income family, then abuse him further and train him as a disposable tool. they use him to kill in the name of the "greater good" and have him take the "unsavory" commissions, doing the dirty work that no one wants to publicly admit to in secret, always saying its the right thing to do, but is it? is any of that moral or right or just?? is any of that worth it? worth the countless people like lady nagant and hawks whose lives are stolen from them as children and are forced to become murderers for the state?? does their humanity not matter? how many people must be sacrificed for "the greater good" before its not worth it anymore? how is the commissions grooming of children to become murderers any different than all for one's grooming of children to become murderers? the only difference between dabi and hawks, is which side got to them first. all for one takes, abuses, and grooms dabi from childhood to become a murderer in order to create his ideal society. the hero commission takes, abuses and grooms hawks from childhood to become a murderer in order to create their ideal society. and yet one of these men is the number 2 hero and the other is a terrorist. what is the different? where is the line? have they not both suffered under the hands that guide them? are they not both irreparably broken by a system that swears its meant to protect them? are they not both failures? and hawks' internal struggle reflects this!! we see that the guilt of all the things he's done, the people he's killed, everything he's lost, and all he's sacrificed for the commission weighs on him. we see how it eats at him, how he doesnt consider himself a good person anymore, how he hates himself for every life he's taken, how he resents the commission for essentially enslaving him and caging him. how desperately he wants to be free and how the commission exploits his desire for a peaceful world by pretending everything he's done will be worth it for that goal. and he just keeps telling himself that over and over again, that it'll all be worth it one day, no matter how much he knows deep down that its a lie i think after his and dabi's original fight, it would have made much more sense for his character development for him to have defected or at least stop siding blindly with the heros. after the fall of the commission horikoshi essentially just stops giving hawks any development and stagnates his character after having learned absolutely nothing and their being zero consiquences for the heros. like dabi showing hawks murdering twice SHOULD have caused the public opinion of him to shift and for people to turn against him and for him to have to actually face and confront the person the commission turned him into and how much he hates that person and that should have been the tipping point for change but instead there's zero consiqunces, no one cares, hawks just doubles down on becoming endeavors new adopted son and just continues to follow him blindly and become a sexy lamp. it's so annoying and infuriating and one of my major gripes with the canon. hawks deserves so much better. he deserves to break

as for having a hawks of my own, that would be ryo LOL him kinning hawks and me kinning dabi was originally how we got to know eachother. we met in a cluster b server and he had a hawks pfp and was running a gore channel called hotel transylvania and i instantly fell in love with him LOL turns out we have like, multiple kin pairs in common which i just think is really funny. we have maimed and killed eachother in so many lifetimes <3 true love right there

as for other kins i have a few but not too many. rin okumura from blue excorcist, catra from she-ra, Akira from devilman crybaby, nezumi from no.6 and a couple others i do love chuuya!! he's my baby, i dont fully kin him but he is big me energy. i dont have too many in depth thoughts cause ive been avoiding the manga and spoilers cause ive liked watching the anime fresh but his and dazai's relationship is everything to me lmfaooo love some bitter ex's who still unconditionally love one another and who work so flawlessly together and compliment eachother so well and can just jump right back into things as if no time has come between them. also love the unshaken and unquestionable trust that comes with letting something destroy u knowing the other person will save u before its too late. soukoku is just *chefs kiss* and dead apple is SUCH a good arc for them

im terrible about inserting my current self into those universes to pick a quirk or gift tho cause like, in my mind i already exist there lmfaoooo so i can never actually pick a different thing than what my kin already has. like cremation is 10000% what my quirk would be and i would absolutely not be a gifted but actually be the current embodyment of an ancient summoned god LOL

as for pokemon i'd probably end up a water gym leader cause i always end up with a water team whenever i play lmfaoo i just cant help it i love the soggy wet little dudes. but personality wise id probably be a dark/fire type trainer. or i'd have like, nothing but dog and fox pokemon. my favorite as a kid was ninetails because ofc it was lmfaoooooo now it's vaporeon tho i love that little water fox so much

i do have an ao3 but i post there very very rarely. im not great at writting and so i just kinda dabble in short little stories when i get a real itch or have an idea i cant let go of. right now there's only 3 on there but ive been working on another dabihawks one but its taking me 90000 years a;lksdjjahsdklajsd

but thank u anon i really appreciate the kind words and questions and stuff!! im glad u enjoy my ramblings about how normal i am about anime men LOL

[cuttoothed]

for the meme! sitting on the other’s lap - JonMartin

Thanks for the prompt! This is a small expansion of an idea from twitter a few days ago, s1 timeline. :3

*

Martin has never seen Jon drunk before. In fact, he still hasn’t seen Jon drunk. If he had to describe Jon’s current state, it would be similar to his own: “merry”, maybe shading into “tipsy.” Halfway through his second glass of wine at the Institute holiday party, and just starting to go loose and talkative. Certainly more relaxed than Martin’s ever seen him, and he can finally maybe believe Tim and Sasha’s stories about the Jon who worked in research with them, who actually allowed himself to have fun once in a while.

To Martin’s surprise, Jon’s idea of “fun” tonight seems to be perching on the arm of Martin’s chair and expounding on the myriad traditions and religious practices that were pillaged by Christianity in the development of their particular solstice festival. Fortunately the pub’s cozy aesthetic includes the armchair Martin’s sitting in, so Jon’s not in too much danger of losing his perch despite being slightly wobbly and waving his wine glass dramatically to illustrate why Christmas is basically Saturnalia with less gladiator fighting.

Martin doesn’t mind the monologue; he always feels a bit awkward at big parties, which is why he’s sat in the back of the pub in the first place, and he quite enjoys when Jon goes off on a tangent about some highly specific area of knowledge. It’s usually something interesting that Martin has never really thought about, and he can even ask questions without Jon seeming incredulous that he doesn’t already know the answer, which he tends to do when Martin asks something about reference styles or how to access research journals. It’s actually quite nice.

And yes, maybe Martin is also sort of enjoying the woody scent of Jon’s cologne and the way the wine has sent a flush across his cheeks, but nobody needs to know about that.

“Of course,” Jon says, “The use of evergreen trees in worship dates back far before the first Christian—whoops!”

That last as he slides off the armrest, his full weight landing sprawled across Martin’s thighs. Martin isn’t sure what’s more startling: the fact that his boss is now sitting in his lap, or the fact that he just heard Jonathan Sims say “whoops.” It’s a close run thing, he thinks. Jon wriggles as he tries to sit upright, and Martin feels the blood rushing—to his face, mercifully, as he goes what must be a brilliant shade of red.

“Oh bloody hell—” Jon mutters as he continues flailing, and then somehow Martin’s hand finds itself resting in the small of Jon’s back to support him. Martin has no idea how; he certainly wouldn’t have done it.

“It’s fine!” he hears someone say. “We, uh, we can share if you like. It’s a big chair!” He’s really not sure who just said that, because Martin knows he definitely wouldn’t have invited his boss to continue sitting in his lap—in full view of all their colleagues—regardless of how nice the curve of Jon’s lower back feels to touch.

And all right, maybe he’s a bit more tipsy than he thought he was. Maybe they both are, because Jon doesn’t pull away or stand up, instead he says:

“If you’re sure?”

“Sure!” Martin says, squeezing over to make space on the chair cushion. It’s not much space—it’s a big chair, but Martin’s a big guy—but it’s enough for Jon to scoot into so he’s no longer sitting directly on Martin’s thighs. His legs are still stretched out over Martin’s, though, as if he were a sentient footstool, and Martin’s hand is still resting in the small of his back. Jon appears perfectly comfortable, leaning back against the armrest and taking another sip of his miraculously unspilled wine.

Martin’s not sure that “comfortable” is the word for how he feels, and tomorrow will probably be a whole new world of embarrassment—he can already imagine what Tim will say. For now, though, he decides to just relax and enjoy the extremely odd situation he finds himself in, as Jon picks up his train of thought:

“As I was saying, the Vikings and the Saxons both considered trees to be objects of worship…”

[headedoutleft]

The new assumption we carry around is that we know most of what we need to know because of the considerable labor most of us put into using social media and streaming services. If you use them, think of how many ideas, observations, warnings, judgments, alarms, images, videos and sounds you absorb regularly. The neuroscientist Daniel Levitin has, by some wild math, estimated the information intake of a social-media user as similar to reading 175 newspapers per day. I would imagine this all leads us to feel we recognize what is "relevant" simply because we feel the fatigue of so much keeping up. If something escapes our attention, it must be pretty negligible. Relevance, as logic requires, is finite. If it weren't, then everything would be relevant, and there would be no use for the concept. What really takes us by surprise is when we hear music that has perhaps never been important to our way of thinking but is somehow smuggled into our presence. We experience a feeling of temporary disbelief, or of being privy to an alternate reality. It's lucky to get our attention

Old music, reframed or brought into new circulation, can be as dynamic and unpredictable as new music. Its work is not done by the end of its own epoch. This was always so, but once, only a small number of people truly knew it; scholars, mostly, who understand that the past evolves by our understanding of its context. People like Mary Beard, the Cambridge professor of ancient Greek and Latin languages and history, who wrote in a 2012 essay that "the study of the Classics is the study of what happens in the gap between antiquity and ourselves."

Ten years ago, I thought the effect of widespread, immediate access to so much of the history of recorded music would be that the past would come to merge with the present. It would simply become another room in the house. I liked that idea, and I imagine Mary Beard would too. But it seems, instead, that the more likely use of the past, and the more profitable one, is as a weird or uncanny diversion. It delivers you a punch in the neck and then retreats back into a flat, non-hierarchical landscape.

And…

This isn't a bad period for music's past. (No time ever was.) And it has some clear advantages — a mania about stories, stoked by public radio and podcasts and documentaries; the everything's-available assumption, making what is not available seem exotically attractive; a sense of sociocultural reparation, leading the charge in bringing some artists back to light; and a furious new intensity of research, which is a byproduct of all the other advantages. (For example, A 12,000-word essay accompanies Numero's Hüsker Dü box set.) Now may be the time of passive encounters and secondary use, but it is also the time of the Julius Eastman revival. Eastman, the New York composer who died in 1990, was uncannily contemporary —an honorary citizen of now — in his forthright blackness, gayness, and disinterest in institutional power. The reissue culture of the last few years has directed us to his recorded music and has started to bring his repertory into contemporary music ensembles. None of this happened because of ahistoricism — quite the opposite.

But what if the real proof of Eastman's relevance is if his music becomes used for TV shows and streaming playlists, and thereafter lives only as vague allusions in the music of others who want their tunes to be picked up for later secondary use?

Emphasis mine.

[alfredosauce50]

The anatomy of the obsessed artist [2p! Italy x reader]

Synopsis: You have the golden opportunity to display your art at a newly opened gallery. Nobody stops to look at your work until an eccentric connoisseur praises it, even asking you if he can buy it. Touched and fascinated by his personality, you agree to meet him over coffee. Now that he’s no stranger, he keeps inviting you over to his lavish estate until he realizes it’s not the art he’s so obsessed with. It’s the artist. Wordcount: 3, 686 The reader is referred to as she/her. “Nihilism represented a crude form of positivism and materialism, a revolt against the established social order; it negated all authority exercised by the state, by the church, or by the family.” - Encyclopedia of Britannica

“It's hideous.” He murmured, his eyes narrowed with contempt. They were a hot magenta hue, quick-moving and critical of everything they fixed on. How much he wished to say he was standing back to admire a masterpiece. Tossing his paintbrush into the kitchen sink with a sigh, he sauntered to the couch and plummeted down on it.

A loud clang was heard, but it never fazed his companion, who barely dodged the trajectory of the brush. “Oh, really?” They snorted. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done.”

He whipped his head to him and glared.

“Like you'd have an eye for these things, Lutz.”

Said man gave a shrug. This was probably the hundredth time they had this conversation, so he could practically predict what Luciano was about to say—and how he would wind up listening unwillingly to his passionate spiels.

“Just listen to me speak for once.”

Lutz scoffed and poured himself a hot cup of coffee. “Here we go again...” He grumbled with a distinct droop to his features.

Rolling his head back to the pristine, white ceiling, Luciano threw his hands up in emphasis. “It's the only damn thing that gives this room some color. I need to do better, Lutz. Otherwise, I'll tear this whole place down!” Even then, his animated movements were minuscule compared to the tall walls that surrounded him.

The other sipped on his mug. “If you're so stuck—” He smacked his lips. “—how about going to the new art gallery downtown? Anything to get you to shut up.” Lutz grinned at that, half-expecting him to launch a few throwing knives his way. But he never did. Instead, he jumped up and extended an index to point at him accusingly.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo? Well, I might just go. Just to prove you wrong.” Grabbing his coat hanging over the couch, he threw it on and marched downstairs. As the echoes of his footsteps faded, he gave one final reckoning. “You can't rush art, dumbass! I'll turn the place upside down, and I still won't find anything worth my time.”

The volume of his thoughts had never been so loud. It was the only thing he heard in this quiet institution during its downtime. Nobody was around, save for him, but that allowed him to ramble to himself--whatever he was staring at, it was everything he had been looking for.

“This was definitely worth my time.” He muttered with a pistol grip on his chin. As he scanned over the canvas to take in the brushstrokes, he shook his head. “I hate to think he said something smart for once.” They were so violent, yet so gentle. A unique balance of nihilism and faith. Reaching up to his dark maroon hair, he dug through it and laughed in awe. “This is magnificent. Bellisima!”

“I hope you mean what you say, sir. That means a lot to me.” He turned to the voice ended up gawking at a woman. As he processed the words, he was at a loss for his own.

“Oddio--you don't mean you painted this, do you, signorina?”

She nodded coyly, much to his delight.

“Mhm. The name on the label is mine.”

At the sound of that, he gleamed and took both her hands into his own. “How much?”

She blinked, unsure of whether she heard him correctly. Was he offering to buy her work? “Sorry?”

“How much do you want for your painting? I'll pay you handsomely. One grand. Ten grand. However much you desire! I just need this in my living room. Whatever you ask for, it's a done deal!”

In your short career, you never imagined capturing someone's attention so passionately with your work. Your initial impression of the man was a rich art collector of some kind--an eccentric enthusiast--and not a connoisseur by any means. He even dressed the part, having adorned himself in a loose, silky blouse with a coat tied around his waist. His fashion was flashy and exuded confidence, though nothing else could have suited his personality.

As you talked to him over a coffee, however, it became clear to you he was much more than that.

“I've never seen somebody use color like that! You must've done lots of practice to get that good, eh?” He mused, watching you light up at his praise. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, so you couldn't help being drawn to him and his zeal. “I'll be honest with you, bella. I'm not letting you run off before we settle on something.”

He could tell from the way you leaned in so subtly, never once breaking your eye contact as you listened to him. And knowing this did wonders--he slowly found himself drawn to you.

“Thank you, Luciano. I'm really flattered, but I can't just sell it to you. It's part of the gallery now.” You smiled gently, curling your fingers around the cup handle. Even as you sipped on your beverage, your gaze on him never faltered. And before you could catch any disappointment on his part, you waved your hands at him.

“I don't mean anything by it, honestly. I'm glad that you understand what I'm trying to say--like, you could've interpreted it completely differently. I wouldn't be able to stop you, either. But the fact that you didn't...” He followed you attentively with those sharp and mysterious orbs, but you were strangely comfortable under his scrutiny.

“Maybe we have similar minds.”

The man had been studying you as you spoke. While he did, this one, singular thought occurred to him. There was nothing in the world he loved more in the world than being heard.

“Hearing you talk is the same as being listened to,” Luciano admitted with a small laugh. Deep inside, he knew Lutz always listened. Unwillingly, that was. But being heard and understood was another story. “You take the words right out of my mouth, bella. I don't know how you do it, but you have to stop reading my mind. It's invasive.” He darted his eyes over your expression that morphed into dumbfoundedness--which served as a prelude for embarrassment.

So he couldn't help but smile flirtatiously. “Take me out to dinner first. Only then will I let you finish my sentences.”

You furrowed your brows together, but his smile was far too contagious to be staved off. The end result was an endearingly stupid face that was a cross between a frown and a grin. “Does lunch count then, you impossible little man? I mean, it's around noon.”

He shook his head, amused. Luciano expected you to pull away, but it seemed like he bit off more than he could chew. You were a handful. He was never a fan of handfuls or really anything that required his energy, but he'd be damned if this was the last time he saw you.

“But seriously, (F/N). I need your paintings. And it doesn't have to be something you've already painted.” Standing up at that, he neared your side lowered himself to your level. He settled a hand on your shoulder, much to your surprise. But you never tried to pull away. “I want you to paint for me at my place. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll drink my weight in this mediocre coffee if I have to.”

With his intoxicating personality, all he needed was a few more espressos to do the convincing.

“I can tell from your taste that you're pretty nihilistic.” You commented with a hint of disbelief. “But this is just crazy! What do you even do for a living?” All the expensive decor and extravagance of his stupidly large mansion must have costed a fortune! Lifting your head to take in the sheer size and height of his living room, you then shot him an incredulous look. “Well? I'm curious.”

Luciano leaned against the couch and folded his arms. “Oh, you don't want to know, trust me.” He grinned devilishly.

“What, are you in the mafia or something?” You joked.

He craned his head from right to left.

“Eh. Something like that.”

You blinked, not expecting him to be so frank. Then, you laughed sheepishly, suddenly feeling as if you've walked right into a trap. “... Are you serious?” The man sensed your uneasiness and walked over promptly. Before you could react, he held your arm, but it was much too gentle to stir any panic.

“Don't worry. Nobody would go after an artist I hired.” He leaned in to keep you hostage to his piercing eyes. The close proximity only heightened the tension you didn't know existed. What he said next, however, would have you blushing like a bride. “To have a target on your head means you're a liability. So unless we were an item--”

He smiled contently at the sight of your reddening cheeks. “--nothing will happen.”

Fortunately, your mortification was short-lived as you remembered your circumstances. Giving him a light shove, you walked off to his hallway. While your back was turned to him, he bit back a sharp grin, but to no avail. Man, were you feisty.

“Stop being such a womanizer and show me your studio, Luciano.” You mused, pausing in the doorway to glance at him over your shoulder. Was that playfulness he saw in your eyes?

“It isn't very professional.”

He hung his head and threw his hands up. Being scolded and ordered around was his worst pet peeve. But when you did it, he was only more compelled to misbehave.

“Mi dispiace. But I was only kidding. If I was part of the mob, my windows wouldn't be this big. Nor this abundant.” Making his way to your side, he walked with you to the said studio.

“And Luciano is a bit of a mouthful, no? You call me Luci.”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, someone else had entered the kitchen to pour themselves a drink. And boy, were they in for a show.

“You got it, boss. You call the shots.” A voice spoke in a gravely-exaggerated mobster accent.

“You're milking it...”

“I'm just joking, Luci. Let me have this moment.”

“Fine. Maybe I should've kept pretending. That'll get you to be a little more obedient.”

“And where's the fun in that?”

“Hmph.”

Lutz narrowed his eyes once the voices faded into silence. And he thought he hated being called Luci.

A mischievous smirk plastered across his face.

“Looks like somebody's found their inspiration.”

A few hours later, he appeared in the studio with a canned beer in hand. Even in such a lavish estate, no form of entertainment could beat pestering an old friend. Waltzing inside like he owned the place, he grinned toothily at what he saw. You and Luciano were busy working on a painting. But rather than using brushes, you both used your fingers.

“Hey.”

Luciano glanced at him and immediately felt the beginnings of anger simmer inside. “What do you want?”

Lutz laughed breathily. “Heh. No knives today?”

“If you don't get out, there will be!” The other whisper-shouted.

You stopped painting and turned to the newcomer with nothing short of curiosity. “... Hi. Are you Luci's henchman?” The joke was probably long dead, but you couldn't resist. Not when the stranger was built on six feet of pure muscle. “Nice to meet you.”

So this was the mysterious artist who managed to tame the bastard, huh? Lutz flattened his lips thoughtfully. “... In a way.”

“No, he's not. Now, get out. Your presence is ruining the mood... And killing my brain cells.” At the sound of that, you exploded into a burst of hearty laughter. Seeing Luciano push him out and leave colorful handprints on his tank only intensified those laughs. Once he managed to get his henchman out of the room, he whipped his head to you with a flustered glare.

“What's so funny?” He frowned. For one, he was rather taken aback at how he wasn't annoyed at you. At all. If someone like Lutz pushed their luck by teasing him, there would be more than one scar marring that punchable face of his.

“Nothing, nothing. I just thought... Maybe we could ask for his top and sell it. That was definitely a masterpiece.” You sighed, catching him off guard yet again. “It's the best work you've done today...”

The blush on his face deepened. A comment like that should've ticked him off, but he only found himself thoroughly infatuated. But that was preposterous! He was only letting this slide because you weren't that German bastard of a bum. That had to be it. But no matter what you did, he didn't have a single mean bone in his body for you. And he was about to test that theory.

“If you thought that was a masterpiece, I'll make you some more.” Marching over and undoing your apron, he wiped his fingers all over your once crisp white shirt. Looking down with a gasp, you weren't prepared for him to clap your cheeks and leave two brown handprints.

“You bitch!”

In his whole life surrounded by the worst potty-mouths, himself included, he'd never heard somebody cuss with so much sincerity. So the most logical reaction was to return the favor, if not be a little annoyed. But even as you ruined his blouse, which happened to be more expensive than everything in the room, he was cackling hysterically.

By the time you both calmed down, he had settled his chin atop your head and wrapped two arms around your neck. The paint on his face was drying up, but he was in no hurry to wash it off. Giving you a squeeze, he leaned down and pressed his cheek to yours. “You're coming tomorrow, aren't you?”

“Mhm.”

“And the day after that?”

“I don't see why not.”

“Then what about the day after that?”

You faced him and pinched his cheek affectionately, but he never complained. “If I was, what's the point of leaving, hm? I have something on that day, but I'll update you.”

Standing up at that, you felt his arms slide off of your shoulders. Luciano pulled away reluctantly, and as you left his studio, he found himself trailing after you against his own will. As quiet as he was, inside, he was tearing himself apart, torn between asking you to stay in the guest room and driving you home. But in the end, he got in the car.

Once he arrived outside your house, his body acted out unexpectedly when he shot his hand out to grab yours. The sudden contact startled you, though you could only gleam at his paint-smeared face that stifled back a thousand words. “What, do you miss me that much already?” You chuckled, much to his pleasure.

“You're just missing me too less.” He closed his eyes for a satisfied look. When he opened them again, he added this. “I'll pick you up here. Same spot. 9 am. If you don't show up in five minutes, I'll break inside and pull you out of bed.” Only then did he let you go.

“You got it, boss.”

With that said, you waved at him and made your way inside. Once the door clicked shut, he returned his gaze to the dashboard and shook his head with a defeated smile. “Oh my god.”

When he climbed the flight of stairs to appear next to the kitchen, the hiss of an espresso machine was heard. Rolling his head to it absently, he dropped his keys on the island and dug his hands through his sticky hair. Without addressing the blonde, who took an obvious interest in his disheveled appearance, he sauntered to the couch and flopped down on it.

“... Luciano.”

“What do you want?” He muffled his voice into the cushion.

Lutz walked over with a mug in hand and sipped it. Pointing to his own face, he swirled his index in circles. “You have a little something there.” When the other rolled his head to him, so did their colorful face.

The next two days saw steady progress in the project he paid you to do. While the painting moved closer to completion, he cared less and less about the finished product. At the same time, his eagerness for you to come grew exponentially. He could never admit it, but that didn't mean Lutz couldn't see right through him.

A single glance at him working in the studio was more than enough to deduce the conclusion that he was hopelessly head over heels for you. For one, it wasn't right to say he was even working anymore. Instead, he was staring at you, and sometimes, for twenty minutes or more if you were particularly immersed in your art.

This was only confirmed in due time.

Trotting downstairs to the cellar, he discovered that over ten bottles of wine had disappeared. And the culprit promptly made an appearance when he returned to the living room. Luciano was holding an empty bottle when they bumped into each other, the contact on his shoulder causing him to drop it. When it shattered on the marble floor, so did his patience.

“What the fu--watch where you're going, you fucking idiot!” He hissed, giving the other a strong shove back.

Beer fizzed out of the can and splashed onto his white tank. Lutz couldn't care less about ruining his clothes, but wasting beer? He pulled back with a growl. “I could say the same for you. I'm not the stumbling drunk here cuz' I can actually hold my weight.”

Luciano rolled his eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

“You know what, just leave me alone.” He huffed, kicking the shards on the ground. Once he scattered the glass all over the hall, he stormed off to his studio. Letting out a frustrated string of colorful words, he tore through more canvases than he cared to count. Punching a hole in one, then using another as target practice, half of the artwork was completely destroyed by the time Lutz showed up.

“I don't get it! Why am I so angry? Why can't I paint something like this?” Luciano exasperated, gesturing forcefully to the painting you were working on. Then, he marched up to the man and gripped the front of his tank. “Am I just that shit? But that can't be!”

At this point, Lutz was done with arguing.

“... You know what I'm about to say.”

Luciano threw his hands up as they chorused the same line simultaneously. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done--yeah, I know! I didn't really expect you to give me any useful advice. I just wanted you to listen to me.”

“Don't I always listen to you?”

“No--”

“Wasn't it me who suggested for you to go to that art gallery?”

“Yeah, but it's not like--it's not like you knew she was gonna show up! (F/N) being there only happened once in a blue moon. You were just lucky, so don't think you're a genius or anything, ha!”

Lutz scoffed, but his unimpressed expression quickly morphed into a shrewd one. “Accept it, liebling. You're down bad. Down astronomically. Just invite her over, and when she comes, you'll know what I mean. It's not the paintings you're making a fuss over.” He watched Luciano's hair spike up like a cat, then him light up like a Christmas tree. That little man was many things, but an honest person was not one of them.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo?” Luciano pointed at him accusingly. “Well, I might just do it. Just to prove you wrong.”

When he left, Lutz clicked his tongue with raised brows.

“That's what you said last time...”

And invite you over he did. When he spotted a silhouette on the other side of the blurry glass, he sprung up from the couch and swung open the door with great gusto. There you were, as effortlessly charming as he remembered, and a little startled. You never had the chance to knock, nor process his scruffy appearance.

“Luci--hey! You look... A little more tired than I remember.”

Without a shred of hesitation, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to his bedroom. Yet again, his body was acting against his will, but perhaps, this was what he wanted in the first place. He just never admitted it. As he slowly came to terms with it, his eyes widened to dinner plates, and his heart pounded obnoxiously in his chest.

“Hey, what're you--”

He pointed wordlessly to the bed.

You shook your head, unable to figure out what he meant. “What do you want me to do?”

Luciano glowered at you, but it served as a stark contrast to the softness in his voice. “I'll pay you. As much as you want. Just stay there.” Seeing that you had yet to go along with his requests, he marched over to you and laid you down. Before you could object, he threw the blanket over you and tucked you in.

Sliding himself in from the other side, he scooted in and coiled his arms around your stomach. “Now, sleep.”

Breathing out a soft sigh, you rolled to him and brushed his mussy bangs back. “For someone so straightforward, you're not very honest, are you?” Sitting up to unzip your jacket, you proceeded to take your shirt off. When you stripped down, blood rushed to flush his cheeks as he came to realize he was completely love-struck.

“... Holy shit.”

Climbing onto his lap, you laughed over his lips and squeezed his neck. “You're really bad at hiding things. But like you said, I can read your mind.”

Luciano knitted his brows together. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth. “And it's very invasive. Please stop it.”

“Only if you promise to pay me in the morning.”

“... You're not a prostitute.”

“Oh, but you are one too. We're all whores, if you think about it. We just sell different parts of ourselves.”

“Go to sleep, idiota.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

[rumblelibrary]

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and a minor depiction of a fight. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: I am a nerd for a good Victorian novel and a sexy Alienist.I have always been charmed by Laszlo’s mind and inner conflicts. So I took the chance and tried to have a run into that rollercoaster.  The story is placed between season 1 and season 2.

Diary belonging to Dr. Laszlo Kreizler.  This is a professional book of annotations over medical treatments of an alienist toward his patients. Do not disclose and send it back to the address if found: Kreizler’s Institute, xxxxxx, New York City (NY) L.K.

Samuel Griswold Goodrich, Illustrated Natural History of the Animal Kingdom (c1859). Contributed for digitization by University Library, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

Schiller in his “Die Weltweisen” wrote: So long as philosophy keeps together the structure of the Universe so long does it maintain the world’s machinery by hunger and love. From the philosopher point of view sexual life takes a subordinate position in human’s life, from recent studies pushed by European philosophers, everything is about sexuality and its development. I like to think of the experience of being an alienist as the process of Queen Penelope that, while waiting for her husband Ulysses return, undoes her craftwork every night. I undo the fabulous constructs of people’s beliefs to go back to the rough sketch that stands at the beginning of their loss, their complex, their pain. Maybe that’s why working with children is so motivating and fascinating. They can be saved and yet, I am well aware, some of those sketches already traced in their young lives equal to scars that not even the most advanced theories could cure. But I can sooth them. I can prevent them the torment, the anguish, the recollection at night of those monsters. I feel like a poet would be a better alienist than a philosopher, but I have got no poetry nor philosophy in my veins, but the cold experience of the razor blade judgment of Life itself.

Today I observed a fight among the children at the Institute. Age range between 10 and 12. Boys. The fight was over the possession of a side of the playground, the territory of a pack  of youngsters formed under the name of Steven. Peculiar lad, coming from a military background finds comfort in replicating the schemes he lived in his family. He takes the role of the Father/Captain of the team and subjects children that come from a similar background story, but do not posses his same attitude to the command. All quiet on the front, until the space he declared is own spot got affected by the presence of others.  Intruders. I knowingly let the events unfold to see how Steven would react to his challenged authority. His reaction was, at first, worded, a sketch, a stage-play of an action he witnessed over and over, and he knew the part so well that some of the contending kids lowered their stance against him. Among considering to mildly intervene into this pyramid scheme of authority, another boy, Jan, calls himself on the role of the educator and hero of the masses and proceeds to unfold a wild and well assessed punch on the newly declared dictator face. Balance is established again. No need for me to arbitrate, once more the laws of nature seem to apply to children as in a state of nature.

Meet John Moore over lunch. His job at the newspaper is picking up, he is charmed by the spirits and the wits that he finds in his shared office with all the other writers. He mentions many, goes on and on over qualities and troubles, gossips and tendencies, and even little scandals here and there. To be aware of all those details gives me no interest, but to see a dear friend so invested clearly gives me something to pick up. To consider also the amount of details and the way he describes this or that member of the journal, I can do a small exercise of analysis. It is almost too easy because John is painfully genuine, even some of the kids at the institute would beat him hands down in a battle of lies. The more he likes somebody, the more he goes on about all the details and the characteristics, often letting aside the physical appearance. When he doesn’t like somebody he has a couple of adjectives for the wits and around four or five for the physical aspects that usually indulge on some repulsive idiosyncrasies.  John is a man that painfully fits in the storyline of The Picture of Dorian Gray: to him physical beauty is spiritual beauty and, of course, the other way around. This part of him surely intrigues me, makes me want to tease more from him. But, as a friend, it concerns me as John is way too prone to purposelessly decide that somebody with good eyes is also a good human being, which is a very romantic and admirably naive way of judging matters. I noticed some names that keep repeating in his narration. I dread that it is synonymous of a soon encounter from my side with the objects of his admiration. Fetiches, I dare to say, that I will have to annihilate before they sediment into his mind, perpetuating a narration that soon sees John being mislead by others.

Reserved: Tickets for the Eroica, Symphony n. 3 by Ludwig van Beethoven. Thursday evening.

Note on the show: the first movement lacked the pathos needed to begin with, I am not sure that the guest orchestra really managed to portray the wider emotional ground needed to withstand the whole representation. As the evening progressed there were some outstanding performances by the cellists. Still not approving the choice of reprising the early quick finale movement against the lengthy set of variations and fugue that we are used to in presence of the Eroica. Underwhelming the performance of the horn and oboe, vital in the comprehension of the genius of Beethoven. 

Niki is a new addition of the Institute, quite old for the standards. He is already 16, he will leave when summer ends to some expensive college his family meant him to stay. His parents expect me to make him “normal” in the time we are allowed together.  He is Austrian and I let him act it out like I don’t understand German for the first week of hist stay until today. I believe I hit his pride, which is good, in the moment I answered back to one of his sneaky comments. Now he knows. He is not safe from me, he doesn’t like it. The young man has a tendency to danger, risky tasks and edgy situations. In his mother’s own words “Niki is not afraid of anything”. The phrase didn’t raise any excitement in the father, rather some sort of painful acceptance that is role as the alpha male of the house is probably not only being challenged, but  already diminished, if not abolished. I have taken in consideration that Niki will break himself a bone or two in the process of the therapy, probably out of the spite of boredom or rebellion. It took him less than few days to turn himself into an outcast among the outcasts, which only drives me closer to analyse the complexity of his narcissistic wall of self defence. I gave him a physical challenge to lift a certain weight, he is a pretty skinny one, he didn’t like the challenge, but I am sure he will take it. He is a brainy guy, he hates to be questioned on unfamiliar ground. He won’t sleep at night thinking about it.  A challenge, in this first phase, can only bring me closer to the ease of his pains. To continue the observation.

It is a sad privilege of medicine, in particular the one I practice, to be able to witness the weaknesses of the human nature and the reverse side of life. Nevertheless, I oblige this same privilege of the study as life moves into shades of darkness. To be aware of it gives more solace to my soul than to be victim of patiently waiting for the inevitable unfolding of the events. To be able to understand more about psychology would bring more comfort and elevation to any human being, the times might not be there yet, but eventually something will move into the direction of a more wholesome approach.

Dinner meeting with Sara Howard, at the restaurant Jardin Des Cygnes, 7 pm sharp.  Do not expect to reach the dessert. Do not know if John will be participating due to undeniable tension among the two and the fatal despise of John over French cuisine.

The case that Sara unfolded tonight to my ears feels more and more like pulled out from some gothic book or from the mind of a Roman historian that needed to justify the godly origins of an Emperor. One killing, apparently random, a very constructed iconography over the body. Signs and insults, shapes and drawings. Is this a work of art? Does the killer wants his victim to be his Mona Lisa? His David? I am charmed and destabilised. If this was a murder like any other, then why to spend so much time into it? Based on the description the act of killing itself was quick: a sharp cut over the throat, almost like not wanting to ruin too much the surface to use as base for, what? I keep rerunning those symbols over and over as Sara described them to me, my mind is flooded with the designs of greek philosophers that needed to explain themselves why the sky is above our head and never collapses on us. Hilarious how, no matter the science advancement, in the mind of many the sky stands inevitably overt their shoulders, suffocates them, brings them to a death of the soul and not of the body. Is all this graphic charade indeed only a form to scream for attention?  To stress the eyes of an unaware viewer? It seems ridiculously elaborate, a scream for attention would be quick, it would be like guided by instinct, not reasoning, craftwork. Any man with a knife can paint in blood red the walls of a room and that’s asking for attention. That is the primal howl: look at me! I am here! But this one.  I don’t know yet.

Spent the early morning reading anew my copy of The Metamorphosis by Ovid. Didn’t touch it in a long time and I got bedazzled by the world of terrible sensuality, anger and selfishness of those gods and mortals. I think back at all the deviances and weaknesses of human kind and I try to relate it to all of those humanoid figures. Niki would be a minotaur, the lonesome son left in the labyrinth and his strive for success is his bull’s head. Or maybe a centaur, because of his wits and strategic thinking. I might keep up the process, maybe this is the way to understand my patients better, to understand the killer better. Must remember not to romanticise it. Greek gods were probably the first form of self indulging of a society that needed gods to be forgiving and allowing favours and punishments, but only in exchange of sacrifices. But the sacrifice never comes from the God’s will, but from the will of the man that perpetuates the act of killing. To sacrifice someone or something is the sadistic response to a lack of love deeply inherited in human mind that becomes neurotic. Is the killer giving the God of his own neurosis a body to feast upon? 

I talked with Jan this morning. The young boy is about 10, but he acts like a full grown adult. I could easily asses that’s the reason why he could challenge Steven in that fight. Two children mimicking adults situations they know too well. Jan is son of an industrial man, but he is also son of the dialectics of the industrial revolution. He sounds like he swallowed some of those books about working class rights and communism, probably pushed by a resentful surrounding (mother?uncle? the midwife?) over the social role of his father. As much as incredibly smart and lectured, Jan lost most of his early occasions in life by spending a considerable amount of time using his fists. The anger ever present in the young boy always surprises me, he seems to be holding a power, a strength of a full grown man in those tiny arms. Nevertheless, he is already the tallest of the group. He is surely an idealist, which makes him also tragically fragile. His strength mixed with his heart of gold can make him the best of the heroes or the worst of the villains. He apologised for the fight, he specified how he didn’t like the sound of Steven’s voice, more than the sound, the level of pitch.  I can’t stand somebody shouting orders, I just don’t listen anymore. He is so mature even about his own feelings, almost a gentleman in his chivalry toward the weaker children, honest with his open heart and resentful against any form of injustice.  I am not spared by his ways, he would come at me whenever he feels like I was being partial over some of the kids, his sense of justice blinds him and transform a perfectly balanced boy into a ranging animal.

Ordered book, to be delivered around tomorrow evening: Introduction à la méthode de Léonard de Vinci by Paul Valéry. Suddenly feeling myself as a gross ignorant in art themes. I always regarded myself aware of the artistic personalities and tendencies of present and past, but this new amount of perceptions over the human figure and the human body leads me to document myself more. I could ask John for advice, but he wouldn’t take things at matter that seriously. I can almost hear him say how I can make gruesome a pleasant topic such as art. I should probably wait to see the body to push any further aesthetic study, but I find myself not being able to stop. I reckon, I can allow myself a vice or two.

Today I saw the body of the killed man, courtesy of the Isaacson's. To be fair, I had underestimated it. In Sara’s descriptions, probably due to her more analytic mind, all the charm of the representation got lost in favour of a less cryptic and reasonable understanding of the act. Sara got what some alienists will call a masculine mind, which I don’t perfectly agree on. If I apply that same approach John would be a very feminine mind, all wrapped up in romanticising even the ugliest. I guess that dividing the world in “fragile and gentle” and “strong and powerful” is just easier to explain the fluctuation of something that doesn’t need a real name or a category like human inclinations on thoughts.  I got a feverish sense of patience by looking at the body. Each symbol traced with sapient slowness, dense of the time that the killer spent with the body. That is a work of hours, he had time and meaning. He had resources and was able to spend not less than the time he needed to reach, a vision? An ideal? A message? Is it the message meant to be understood? Am I supposed to unravel it or it is maybe just the way the killer communicates within himself? And if I do decifrate the code, will that bring me closer to him? Or to his next victim?

Reminder: ask John to replicate all the symbols on the bodies in the correct measure and order. It might be needed some hard convincing. Addition: scheduled meeting, his house, 3 pm.

It wasn’t a day like any other when I met you. Or maybe it was, and that’s why I got so struck by it and now I am here playing it over and over through what my memory clung on so desperately. In my own experience, life was often similar to swimming in a lake. Those rich, dense lakes in the north of (illegible cancelled word) were my father used to bring us during summer. I still feel the pull, the draw down toward the abyss. It ashamed me, in a way, the fear that such a simple feeling aroused in my young mind, unaware nevertheless, that such a feeling would follow me through all my existence. It was a prophecy and, like most of the prophecies, was a riddle. I cradle in my heart the charm of those days, the mindless happiness. The foolish feeling of freedom. Little I knew that freedom would be taken away from me that soon, that the body that used to navigate me over the dense waters, helping me to fight the haul toward the unknown, would become my own cage. That day. Today. The day where I met you, the day I was afloat.  The child gasping for air felt the wrench become a gentle push and now he is floating on his back over the scary waters of reality and malice. It gave me relief and it gave me terror, because since that very moment I knew that I would never be able to move on from the sight of you. From the feeling of your eyes lingering on me. From the smile you so easily shone upon me. From the whiff of imported perfume that hit me when you turned on side exploding that swan like neck. And nothing, not even my stern look, could dim that wave of hope that your sole presence washed over me. The abyss roars, calls me to a home of damnation and terror and curses my name and yet you repeated that hell-bound name of mine after me and I felt safe.

John told me so much about you, it feels like I have always known you.

The rope is gone from my neck, the guillotine won’t fall on me, I am spared, I am free.

I have read your latest article, I am thrilled to help with the case.

I am in disbelief.

Your voice.

Dr. Kreizler

How dare you? How dare you to come into my life, to appear, like a vision, mystical, in a way I despised at University when all those theology students talked about the divine. In this very moment I can’t recollect much of what you said, something about the case, about going with John at the obituary. It feels confusing, I feel overstimulated, my memory fails me, I am not sure anymore. I write these few lines and it is passed the hour of the witches and I wish, I demand, to never see you again, because life should never grant hope to a condemned man. 

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

You don't have to answer this if it's too heavy or difficult or a question, but is it weird if I'm kind of afraid of heaven? I'm not scared of hell because I believe that even if it exists, hardly anybody goes there, but I'm just really scared of an afterlife where the things I love about this life are gone. The thought of things like not having a physical body, all of our flaws being gone, never feeling any negative emotions (because I don't think slight flaws or negative emotions are always harmful and they're part of what makes us individuals), animals not being there, or marriage not existing just feel terrifying instead of freeing. The last one especially because my mom died relatively young and I hate thinking that my dad can't be with her again in the afterlife someday. Or that even in heaven my family would never be able to do the things we missed out on doing together. And life is so short and I know that, for example, I'll never have time to play all the video games I wanna play, read all the books I wanna read, or visit all the places I dream about visiting before I die. Idk I guess I just wish heaven would be the same as earth but without all the oppression and destruction, but thinking like this makes me feel like a bad Christian.

cw parent death mention, fear of heaven, existential fear

Hey anon, you are not a bad Christian for having these fears. A lot of us have the same or similar fears!  

Over time, conceptions of heaven have been whitewashed and simplified and completely severed from our current world. But the Bible’s various descriptions of “heaven” / the last day / the world to come / the Kin(g)dom of God by & large envision what you name near the end of your ask: the world not destroyed and replaced, but restored. A world where God’s will is fulfilled, which brings justice, peace, and abundant life to all -- all humans, all life.

What is Good now, will be Good then -- not wiped away. What is unjust now, will be transformed to justice. 

God created the earth and delighted in it, calling it Good! Concepts of “heaven” that sweep all of Creation except humans away are...anthropocentric, to say the least. 

God created us as embodied creatures. Concepts of “heaven” that strip us of embodiment seem overly dualistic, a Greco-Roman / post-Enlightenment / Western favoring of the immaterial over the material, rationality over emotion, in a way that doesn’t ring true to biblical cultures, particularly in the Hebrew Bible (”Old Testament”). (This post links to verses that envision physicality in heaven.)

God created us to be co-creators, also capable of dreaming up new things! From the very start, God invites the first human (in Genesis 2) to join in on God’s creative activity by choosing names for every animal. I believe God will continue to bless and delight in our creativity in the world to come -- and indeed, we will be more free than ever to create! 

____________

To address your fear about marriage no longer existing in heaven (as Jesus does comment that no one will be married or given in marriage) -- this is one that troubles me, too. i love being married to my wife! will my unique relationship with her blur into a more general love for all humans?? i don’t think so. 

Maybe Jesus was speaking of the institutional aspects of marriage -- of daughters being traded to new husbands as an economic agreement; of legal benefits to marriage that exclude anyone who can’t or doesn’t want to get legally married (such as LGBTQA+ folks in certain times and places, interracial partners in certain times and places, disabled folks, and others). These aspects of marriage are unjust -- they will not continue in God’s Kin(g)dom.

Without those aspects that are so embedded in our marriages now, will what remains still fit the term “marriage”? Probably not -- hence the idea that marriage is no more. But that doesn’t mean that the good relationships we’ve built here on earth are all wiped away: they’ll be restored, transformed. 

______

you might find encouragement in some of the posts in my #heaven tag that muse on heaven as a place that’s not, like, some sad uniform expanse of nothing but humans in a faceless mass -- but instead, the world restored, redeemed, blossomed into true Life.

Some of those posts:

my poem that envisions a heaven green and lively 

will our pets be in heaven?

thoughts on forms of human art and creativity remaining

similarly -- will we be able to read in heaven?

similarly -- will other things we love now cease then?

will we have free will in heaven? will we be forced to worship nonstop (and what “counts” as worship anyway)?

will we no longer recognize the people we love?

In the end, there’s not anything any of us can say with certainty about heaven -- and uncertainty of that kind is kinda terrifying. But we can trust that what God loves and sustains now, God will love and sustain then; and that whatever heaven is like, it will be good beyond our imagining.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I'm from south wales, and I've always felt desperately out of touch with my own heritage the more I learnt about it, and past using duolingo I don't really know where to start, do you know any good resources for starting out?

HOO BOY I RECOGNISE THIS ONE

So I have a very similar background, and it was a LOT of work fighting my way to where I am now to reclaim my own heritage - Anglo-Welsh culture just Does Not Teach this stuff, something that still, to this day, makes me fucking furious. I remember after I went to uni to learn Welsh finding out about the practice of Cerdd Dant, and I don’t think I calmed down for a week. I had never heard of it. Ever. And Welsh-speaking friends of mine scoffed, and said that Cerdd Dant is horseshit so I was hardly missing out, and I had to explain to them that, yes, if you have the privilege of being connected to your own cultural history and traditions, I imagine you can easily pick and choose which bits to sneer at; but from my perspective?

Here’s what Cerdd Dant is, with the frills stripped away: you are given a poem. A tune - sometimes an existing one, sometimes not - is played as a backing. You have to invent a brand new melody to sing that poem to that tune. If there’s more than one of you, you also need to invent harmonies.

That’s the tightest fucking shit. If I’d learned that in Music lessons in school, I’d have been delighted. That is a formula that is ripe for reinvention, and modernisation. I do not care that the version people do in Eisteddfodau is nauseating and makes me want to punch school children in their weirdly moving mouths (side note: why do Eisteddfodau make people Do That with their mouths?) I care that this is a beautiful, creative medium that is my cultural heritage and I, and every other fucker in Anglo-Wales, was not allowed it.

In any case... what did the trick for me was doing a degree in Welsh and Celtic Studies, which obviously was very successful but also is an expensive and difficult solution. So, in the interests of assuming you don’t have £27000 and three years to spare, what can you do?

It’s difficult, because there’s not exactly an institution or website you can go to that keeps a handy list. But I guess making a list of categories isn’t a bad place to start? Music, poetry, food, dance, festivals, history, customs, folklore, industry, that sort of thing. It gives you a framework for the research.

Check the competitions and categories in the Eisteddfod for things like music, poetry and dance. I’ve mentioned Cerdd Dant, but there’s other musical forms as well - poetry we have even more, and it’s baffling but fun to learn about cynghanedd and the various poetic forms like the cywydd, the englyn, etc (again, these absolutely should have been taught when I was in school. Fucking unforgiveable.) Dawnsio Clogsan is like Irish and Scottish folk dancing with the kicky legs and the tap shoes, but with Added Props - plus group folk dancing and that.

While you’re at it, look up the history of the twmpath chwarae in the villages. In fact, that’s a good segue into customs and festivals - you’ve heard of Beltain, Samhain, Imbolc and Lughnasadh, but those are the Gaelic ones. Wales is Brythonic, and our equivalents are Calan Mai, Calan Gaeaf,  Gŵyl Fair y Canhwyllau, and Calan Awst (heads up: it’s VERY difficult to find decent info on those last two online.) Look up the Mari Lwyd and Calennig and lovespoons. Look up the Eisteddfod (I know you’ll already know at least some stuff about it, but it’s worth getting the full story.) Uh... the Wikipedia page here is a good little index for some Welsh folkloric stuff, but get yourself a copy of the Mabinogion (the 2008 Sioned Davies translation is v good) for the best of Welsh mythology. The main Four Branches are available online here, complete with footnotes to explain what the fuck is going on with the cultural references/symbolism. And the best best BEST resource for Welsh faerie mythology, in English, is British Goblins by Wirt Sykes, which is available here. That one is fantastic, because it was written by an English guy who was fascinated by Welsh faerie mythology, and spent some time in the 1800s wandering around Wales, asking people for stories and beliefs and just writing them down - and very respectfully too, which is a refreshing change from other writers of the era (George Borrow can deep throat a cactus in whichever afterlife he came to).

Uh, that’s probably a good segue into history - I’d recommend, in roughly chronological order, looking up the Celtic tribes of Wales (Silures and Ordovices in particular), Princess Gwenllian, Hywel Dda and his incredible laws, the Welsh royal line in Gwynedd (Llywelyn Fawr in particular, but obviously Llywelyn Ein Llyw Olaf needs a depressing look, along with what became of his children. Especially his son.), the Bardic Age, Owain Glyndwr and his grand plans for the country, the Rebecca Riots, the Merthyr Uprising, the Treachery of the Blue Books, Dic Penderyn, the Tonypandy Riots, the Senghenydd Colliery Disaster, Tryweryn, Aberfan. I mean there’s a shit-ton of others and I’m probably forgetting some really obvious ones, but we don’t teach Welsh history, so... that’s a very quick overview I guess. (Also, the stuff I was taught in school was HEAVILY colonialist. Like, HEAVILY.)

Anyway; this may or may not have been helpful, I don’t know! The handy thing is that you’ll probably find more elements to explore with each one you research, though, and there’s always something new. Good luck, enjoy, and don’t hesitate to get back in touch with any other questions!