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droids-in-disguise · 9 months

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Good Omens 2 making me think a lot about religion and religious deconstruction.

For context, I grew up Baptist, went to Catholic school for jr. high, and attended a private Christian school for my undergrad.

I grew up being told that the Bible was the ultimate source of truth, that is was the guidebook for our lives as Christians, and that, most importantly it should be taken literally.

I started wrestling with the concept of queerness when I was in jr. high. By then I had joined tumblr and had a best friend who was openly pan. But it was still a problem, because my church's reading of the Bible was that being gay was a sin. I existed very much in that "hate the sin, love the sinner" space that so many Christians seem to think is the appropriate answer. I also realized that despite being told that my church was doing Christianity the "right" way, these Catholics seemed to be just as sure in their conviction that they were doing it the right way.

In high school, I could sometimes privately admit to myself that the label "asexual" felt good, but more often than not I would lie to myself and say I was just too busy with grades and extracurricular activities to commit time to dating boys. I certainly never came out to anyone.

Ironically, it was the theology classes I took in college combined with the freedom of living away from my parents that helped me to finally realize that the Church as I knew it did not have the final say.

I learned that Biblical canon was not always set in stone and that it varies from denomination, that Hebrew and Greek words can have more than one translation or even no direct translation in English, I learned about liberation theology, and about womanist/feminist interpretations of scripture. Outside of theology class I took classes focused on Islamic history and literature. I had conversations about faith with my Muslim, Jewish, and Pagan peers. I met queer people who were both queer and Christian and who didn't see these identities as conflicting.

I had an old, hardass British lit professor who said something once during our study of Paradise Lost that I'll never forget, and that was that he believed God was like a diamond or some other precious gemstone, and that that all the different groups of Christians, Jews, and Muslims were all just seeing different facets of the same thing. Apparently this statement was something he had once told university higher-ups and it nearly cost him his job.

Despite all the deconstruction and the private acknowledgement that the church I grew up in did not have a monopoly on truth, I still went to church for years after. I did have the good sense to stop going to my parents' church and found one that was much more progressive and openly accepting of queer people, but even still it was hard to separate how much of me was there because I wanted to be there and how much was out of obligation or some sense of needing to reclaim my now tarnished view of the Church. I'm not sure where I sit now, only that I don't think I can be the one to create change from within, I am too damaged and tired for that.

All of this is why I think I relate so deeply to Aziraphale and the journey his character has undertaken, and why claims that he behaved out-of-character in the finale or that his coffee was drugged irritate me so much, because in another universe where I'm Aziraphale, I could see myself doing and saying the exact same things.

Letting go is hard, it's been painful and traumatic for me, I can't imagine what it would be for a being like Aziraphale with a much longer history.

There's such a strong desire to believe that it's only some of the Church that's bad and that if we have enough good people on the inside we can change it for the better.

Aziraphale has been hurt by Heaven and he's realized that Heaven is just as capable of doing bad as Hell (in many ways what Heaven does is more sinister because they won't admit to the bad and hide behind the façade of goodness and moral superiority), but he's a people pleaser and he's been an angel for so long, he can't just let go of his community and everything he has ever known no matter how poorly he has been treated by said Heavenly community. So then he gets this offer, work for Heaven, be in charge, make a difference. He can keep Heaven and Crowley, have his cake and eat it too. Of course he takes the job.

Crowley has had the outsider perspective for longer, he was the first to start asking questions. Perhaps there was a time when he too would've said yes to the Metatron, but now he knows better.

"We don't need Heaven, we don't need Hell. They're toxic!"

Aziraphale hasn't reached the same level of understanding that Crowley has, that no matter how many times he goes crawling back, Heaven will never truly accept him or be the place for him.

They way this story has been told over the past two seasons has been magnificent. Just as I can pinpoint all the different moments in my life that have helped to unravel what I thought I knew, we as the audience get to watch Aziraphale have these revelations too. In the first season we have the ineffable plan and this idea that armageddon is necessary and that Aziraphale shouldn't be the one to question it, but he does question it because he loves humanity, sees their goodness, and can't understand why a good God would allow them to be destroyed.

In season two, I found the bits surrounding Job to be especially poignant. First the shock that Heaven would condone the killing of children, then the realization that Crowley wouldn't kill the children or the goats going against his demonic "nature" proving Aziraphale's assumptions wrong, and finally the fear that lying would make him into a demon and the surprise when this turned out not to be true.

I have a feeling that by the end of season 3, when we get it, we will have the satisfaction of seeing Aziraphale and Crowley finally on the same page and I for one can't wait.

#good omens #good omens s2 spoilers #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2

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galaxymagitech · 3 months

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I hadn’t originally posted about the goblins in The Church on Ruby Road, because I felt like I might be overreacting. I couldn’t find anyone discussing it here, so I figured that maybe it was just me. But I recently did find a post on here about this issue, so I wanted to share my thoughts.

I was watching the episode and trying to get into it but it just felt like something was crawling under my skin. I liked certain parts of it—loved the 15th Doctor, thought Ruby was cool, liked the thing about the foster family making such a huge impact, etc. But the goblins made it hard to enjoy. It made it difficult for me to enjoy Christmas too. And I was watching this episode with my Jewish granny and I kept glancing at her, like “I’m sorry that this is my favorite show.”

Now, throughout history, the fear of someone stealing your baby has been a common one. It’s not necessarily antisemitic. Babies are so precious to societies and parents that of course people are terrified of them being stolen. But…

The baby-stealing was associated with a type of creature that has consistent antisemitic associations.

The goblins have a ritualistic and vicious ceremony to prepare the baby for eating, and they’re sacrificing the baby to a higher power (their king). Strong associations with blood libel here.

The goblins don’t have long noses (which I’m sure the people involved with making this absolutely specified and thought was enough) but they do have horns. It’s hard not to associate that with the myth that Jewish people have horns. I don’t know why they gave the goblins horns, it’s such a completely unnecessary detail.

This was on a Christmas episode, which really makes it worse.

Again, having a group steal babies is not inherently antisemitic—many cultures have myths about monsters who will steal your baby. But. Having horned goblins steal a baby to sacrifice in a vicious ceremony to a higher power on a Christian holiday…ugh.

Doctor Who has been putting in so much effort to be as sensitive as possible, recently. And that’s great. They didn’t want to portray characters with disabilities as evil, they wanted to portray a trans character well, etc. But because of that, the goblins stick out like a sore thumb.

I don’t want to ruin this episode for anyone who enjoyed it. I enjoyed many parts of it. But I’m just so confused how this happened, when the second they came up with “baby-stealing creatures” their immediate thought should’ve been “okay, but be very, very careful.” And instead they just went full speed ahead with the horned goblins committing blood libel.

#I don’t think this was intentional #but they should’ve been intentional about avoiding this #I just don’t get how this happened #whyyyy #doctor who #doctor who spoilers #the church on ruby road #antisemitism #fifteenth doctor

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broflovski-brah · 7 months

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rant under the cut (about wendy and kyle and their fanon portrayals)

why don’t people portray wendy as smart

wendy is EVERY BIT just as smart as Kyle is and yet kyle is always the one in fanfic who gets into fucking yale or some ivy league school while wendy is jacking it off in san diego or some shit, like i’m not saying wendy is a female kyle. i’m just saying that wendy is every bit as smart as kyle is and should be portrayed as such in fanfics

and i don’t understand wendy haters who just call her a bitch like how is she a bitch? is she a bitch for having strong opinions? again, i guess kyle would be a bitch then too? like wendy is CANONICALLY CLASS PRESIDENT and in every fucking fic she is portrayed as some bratty spoiled snob who just mentally berates stan or is being a fucking piece of shit to everyone around her like she is not a bitch. she is smart and she has strong opinions! like i literally don’t get wendy haters who say ‘oh wendy is a bitch, wendy is opinionated’ and then like praise kyle and put him on a pedestal.

and just to clarify i am not a kyle hater, kyle is my favorite character (one of them anyway). but wendy and kyle literally are both smart and are both people who have strong opinions, just one is a boy and one is a girl. so why when a girl has an opinion is she a bitch? why when a girl is canonically smart she has to be portrayed as dumb in fanfic? like sure maybe she wasn’t the best for stan, but to be fair he wasn’t the best for her! like the justification of her ‘being a bitch to stan!’ or ‘being too opinionated’ is so fucking funny to me.

And another thing, why is kyle always portrayed as the stressed out workaholic ‘school is life’ kid? like…okay, i’m guilty of this. (not the school is life part but the kinda workaholic part) i do have my own headcanons that he is really busy in high school, but with sports and clubs. He doesn’t just do school. like…this is the way I portray him. (school wise)

he does basketball, maybe swims. He might work on weekends because his parents want him to have a good footing in the workplace to prepare him for college. He does tutoring and tries to help people out and he does take school somewhat seriously. he’s just kinda book smart. he doesn’t study all the time. he may forget a meal every once in a while because he gets busy and loses track of time but he’s not actively starving himself or depriving himself of sleep. he really only studies for big tests and tries hard on projects but he doesn’t dedicate his life to school. (I don’t know if that really justifies my headcanoning and i’m sorry if it comes off as offensive or promotes bad jewish stereotypes if it does i’ll fix it, i swear)

but like…wouldn’t wendy be the same way? wendy is very dedicated to school and stuff, she works her tail off as well and gets the short end of the stick on almost every fanon scenario. She’s portrayed as a bitch, and in fanfics with OCs she is the stereotypical mean girl bully who ‘stops Y/N from getting with whoever the fuck she’s pining after’ and it’s so fucking annoying. She would not be a mean girl, if anything she would be one of the most welcoming people in school. And in high school fics when her and Bebe are portrayed as people who bully freshmen and stuff like maybe Bebe would a little bit but Wendy would not. if anything Wendy would stand up for them.

bottom line is don’t strip wendy of her intelligence. don’t strip wendy of her strong willed personality and dress her up as some mean girl bully. she isn’t any of that. and if kyle can be a smart, morally inept person then so can wendy. there’s no reason she can’t be.

#wendy testaburger #skipper speaks #fanon sucks #kyle broflovski #south park #rant #south park kyle #south park wendy #wendy south park #kyle south park #sp kyle #sp wendy #kyle broflovski south park #wendy testaburger south park #south park kyle broflovski #south park wendy testaburger #literally if you’re anti wendy come at me for this like idc

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jewishbarbies · 2 months

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If "antizionism isn't antisemitism" then antizionists should be hyper vigilant about not sounding like nazis. They should be very firmly against Jew hate, against the deaths/rapes/desired violent mass displacement of half the world's population of Jews. They shouldn't be saying "death to Israel"- again HALF the world's Jews live there, if you're saying that you don't want good things happening to millions of them. Antizionists shouldn't be mocking Jewish pain and mocking Jewish rape victims. They should be taking any antisemitism in their movement VERY seriously and beating it down. They should be checking their fucking biases, and making sure they aren't spreading conspiracy theories and blood libel.

Antizionists have done the exact opposite to all of this. They are some of the most gleefully hateful and genocidal people on this platform. So until they make a monumental effort to correct their bullshit I will always consider them to be neo nazis. Period. And its become extremely obvious they won't ever bother to fix their movement

they’ve given themselves permission to call anyone a nazi and make anything the “new holocaust”, and they allow themselves to do and say anything to people they don’t like. it’s body positivity until someone annoying is plus size, balding, or has acne. it’s “we’re all going through hard times” when talking about themselves, but when someone else lives with their parents/family they’re losers and deadbeats. it’s anti racism and blm until a poc disagrees with them and then it’s okay to use slurs against them. they’re feminists until a woman doesn’t want to embody toxic masculinity to be considered strong. don’t get me started on the lgbt+ community and how leftists are never satisfied with the way other people identify or understand their own sexuality/gender. these contradictions and hypocrisies have been happening on a large scale for many years now, and it’s all culminated in what we’re seeing now. justifying murder, rape, and torture based on race, religion, ethnicity, and where you were born. antizionism is just the fancy new(ish) label everyone is using to make themselves feel better about it.

#Asks #anonymoose #antisemitism

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pod-together · 8 months

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Pod-Together Day 1 Reveals 2023

The Matchmaking Bentley (Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Queen (Band)) written by ChrisCalledMeSweetie, performed by Juulna Summary: Crowley's Bentley is determined to make the ineffable husbands' relationship more effable - with a bit of help from Queen.

Just Missed You (Ted Lasso (TV)) written by chainofclovers and gnen, performed by klb, rockinhamburger, petrodobreva, eafay70, Ceewelsh, JanuariumPods, meyml, ToughPaperRound, dairaliz, SSLeif, HowOldAreWe, gnen, chainofclovers, and DryDreams Summary: Ted and Beard, one year later. (They love each other, they will see each other again.) A "found audio" story for pod-together 2023.

Value (Jewish Scripture & Legend) written by Hagar, performed by eafay70 Summary: Le’a is kind as often as possible, but it doesn’t always help ease the sting of life in the shadow of her beautiful sister Rachel.

Lightning (Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)) written by tadhana_writes, performed by gracicah Summary:"Lightning flashed. In that horrible moment of pure light, I saw my mistake."

Things are well. Holmes has returned, life has returned to a quiet lull, and they're in another case. Same thing as always. By the light of a thunderstorm, Watson realises that things may not be the as well as he wishes them to be.

Pay Attention to Me (A3! (Video Game), A3! (Anime)) written by Dokuhan, performed by ChaosKiro Summary: Chikage will swear up and down, left to right, backwards and forwards that jealousy is beneath him. But that becomes a lot harder to say when Sakuya and Tasuku start spending more time together than usual.

camouflage (Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)) written by roxas_oxo13, performed by Wonderlandian_Geek Summary: “You remind me of myself, I guess.” “Impossible.” “Why’s that?” It's now or never. He’s already not likable; he has to nothing to lose. “You’re good-looking. You’re always surrounded by your flowery little posse. You always have something to say. You don’t know what it’s like to have people avoid you and tell you that your parents are the only thing you have going for you. It’s always do this, try this, be better, until it’s time to do a science project and suddenly you’re hot shit.”

Visit to a Strange World (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù) written by FlutterFyre, performed by pezzax Summary: Xiao Zhan awakens to find himself in an impossible situation. He has more questions than he knows what to do with, the biggest being, How do I get home?

Surrender (Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling) written by SanctuaryAngel, performed by SerenaEW Summary: Harry ends his life within the Veil after losing Sirius, and Severus spends every day visiting, wondering if he should follow.

Don the Mantle [text, audio] (Star Wars: Rebels) written by wanderingjedihistorian, performed by Flowerparrish Summary: The world spun as he took in the date before him. Perhaps this was a nightmare of some sort? Or a hallucination? The brief said they weren’t entirely sure what protections the device had on it. Forcing him to relive the assault on Lasan certainly would be a fitting way to neutralize him. Still, that didn’t…that idea didn’t seem right. This felt all too real.

Not Alone (เขา...ไม่ใช่ผม | Not Me (TV 2021)) written by FlutterFyre, performed by Wereflamingo Summary: Not that any of that mattered. Black wasn’t here and – like the rest of them – Sean was hooded, cuffed, and crammed in the back of this van like unwanted luggage. Helpless.

Get A Read On Me (Men's Hockey RPF) written by savvygambols, performed by Beryllinthranox Summary: Roope considers Jason, his broad chest and his strong arms, his big dark eyes and his beautiful brown skin. Jason is a good-looking man and his shirt doesn’t fit at all. “We’re going shopping after practice,” say Roope. “Uh—” says Jason. He rubs his palms on his jeans. His jeans don’t fit. Roope can fix this. Roope can fix all of this. “I mean, I don’t know, Roope. I don’t, like—I mean, you know me and clothes, right? It’s not my thing.” “It wasn’t a question,” says Roope. “We’re going.”

#podfic #fanfic #good omens #ted lasso #jewish scripture & legend #sherlock holmes #a3!#twisted wonderland #the untamed #harry potter #star wars rebels #not me the series #mens hockey rpf

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colorfulyetsinful · 1 year

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Happy new years everyone!!! I hope everyone had a good nesw years and if not...welp :/

Anways, I got more headcannons! :D

As I mentioned in m last hc post, these are hc I've written on my phone to send to my friend. I thought I write so much hc might as well post them. Also, Jason is Latino bc I’m Latino and I say so.

Ok, headcannon time!

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Batfam Accents

Dick:

Has a Romani / European accent

It’s a bit watered-down bc of him traveling in the circus

He knew english, but it was very broken

Or it sounded broken with how heavy his accent was

He learned how to switch accent and talk proper American english after becoming Robin as a way to further mask his identity

When he’s Robin and upset, he talks in his born dialect,

but in an American accent...

Yes, it is very funny

The teen titans thought he was going craz when he code switch

“Wait, you’re not (American) White?”

“Now where the fu-”

He uses his accent when in civilian form to keep the image

Jason:

Is an immigrant from Dominican Republic,

but immigrated when he was a baby

He only knew Spanish for the first few years of his life, until his mother died

His accent is also watered-down, but it's still strong to your genric American

It works when being questioned by the police,

just pretend you don't know english

As he got older and learned more english his accent basically went away (Still there, technology, just not as stronger)

Since he's from Gotham's streets, he has a heavy Jersey/Gotham accent (If you ever heard a jersey-ian (?) talk then you know what I'm talking about)

When he met Batman, he tried to play the "No Hablo inglés"

and Bruce pulls the uno reverse card and starts throwing spanish right back at him

"Abort mission"

When he teams up with Roy, Roy find him hot when he speaks spanish

He also teaches Lian spanish bc "I'm basically raising her too, Roy. That's my child as much as she is your's, and I'm teaching her spanish, danmmit"

Tim:

The only one withot an accent,

like he has a Gotham accent, but its posh Gotham (people with these accents are rich and think their shit dont stink)

Knows Korean and Yiddish fluently

Bc Tim is haft asian (I hc him as Korean and Jewish) and rich, ofc his parents had him learn a bunch of languages

Languages such as; Japanese, Italian, Portuguese, Spanish, and Mandarin

One time the YJ (who didn't know his identity) ran into his civilian personal at a banquet and he had to speak Korean

Yj was on a mission, however, to watch over him (much to his displeasure) and he had to pretend to only speak Korean the whole night

When frustrated and/or in pain, he switches to one of the many languages he know

"What is your ethnicity? You're fluent in too many languages"

"Human. No more questions"

Damian:

Is actually an immigrant

(At least, I believe so...corrent me if im wrong)

His accent is the heaviest out of all of them bc he grew up in the middle east for a good chunk of his life

He hides it with posh European english (how he was taught english)

Knows a lot of languages bc Talia said knowing all of them is important

He doesn't know Cantonese, Portugese, or Hawaiian

Still getting use to speaking more in english and not Arabic

Still wasn't able to properly mask his accent yet as some words are weird to pronounce.

Cassandra:

Is taking speach therapy so she also doesn't really have an accent

She just speaks broken english bc she's getting used to talking

Talks very softly

Uses ASL mostly as it is an easier wa to communicate

Slowly gaining a Canadian accent bc her speech instructor is from Canada

Duke:

Like jason, also has a Gotham/Jersey accent

Grew up in regular gotham streets, unlike Tim, so it's more slang words

The "Blaccent"

Is very heavy, like he cant turn it off

which is fine bc he's a gotham base vigilante

Teaches Damian Jersey slang

Bonce!!!!

Bruce also has a posh Jersey accent that Tim as bc all rich and high society do

and Alfred is obviously british

#bruce wayne #batfam headcanons #batfamily #batfam #duke thomas #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #jason todd #alfred pennyworth #gotham #batman

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redgoldsparks · 6 months

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October Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Finna by Nino Cipri, read by Amanda Dolan

Ava is having a rough time: three days ago she and Jules broke up, and since then she's been avoiding them at their horrible mutual job at LitenVärld, a dystopian Ikea. Then a customer goes missing in a wormhole in spacetime, and Ava and Jules are chosen to try and retrieve the missing grandma. Very short, very fun. Written by a nonbinary author. Gave this a re-listen as an audiobook because there is a sequel now :D

Defekta by Nino Cipri read by Ramon De Ocampo

This novella takes place in the same LitenVärld store that Ava and Jules worked at in book one in this series, but follows Derek, the store's most loyal and dedicated employee. He lives in a shipping container in the store's parking lot, and has no friends and no life outside his time at the store. In fact, he doesn't even have any memories from before he started working at the store... or any explanation for why the store seems to make sense to him, and even speak to him, in a way it doesn't to any of his co-workers. Then something even more shocking than an wormhole occurs in the store: the furniture starts waking up and coming to life. Derek's entire worldview and sense of self are completely upturned. Unfortunately this story didn't capture me as strongly as book one; despite being a novella it felt oddly slow. I was rooting for Derek and the wayward furniture by the end, but the structure of the story was not as strong or streamlined as Finna. I do still want to keep reading Nino Cipri because I love the way they effortlessly include nonbinary characters in their sci-fi and I want a third installment that returns to Ava and Jules!

Princess Floralinda and the Forty Story Tower read by Moira Quirk

A four hour fantasy novella read by the talented and wonderful Moira Quirk, who also reads the Locked Tomb audiobooks. This original fairy tale features Floralinda, a princess captured by a witch and imprisoned in a tower full of monsters. When all of the princes who try to rescue her fail Floralinda has to to take up arms against the monsters herself. I was entertained throughout my whole time listening to this story, but it didn't have a particularly strong emotional impact. I would mostly recommend it to Tamsyn Muir completionists; though it was published in the same year as Harrow it feels like an earlier work. I kind of wanted the ending to be either more hopeful or more horrible.

My Aunt is a Monster by Reimena Yee

Safia is blind, but she was raised by booksellers who read her stories of adventures and the wide world. After her parents tragically die in a fire, Safia is adopted by a distant relative, a reclusive aunt who used to be the world's most famous adventurer. A curse ended her traveling career, but a rival adventurer and the discovery of an ancient city might pull the whole family back into the world. This book was sillier than I expected, but I still greatly enjoyed the art style and the magical whimsy.

Thistlefoot by GemmaRose Nethercott read by January LaVoy

Isaac and Bellatine Yaga grew up on the road with their parents' traveling puppet show, but neither has a good relationship with their parents as adults. Isaac ran away as a teen and has lived as a train-hopping actor and scam artist into his early twenties. Bellatine moved across the country to study woodworking in New England were she is trying desperately to live a normal life despite her power to bring inanimate objects to life. Her power, and Isaac's shapeshifting ability, are inheritances of a generational trauma from a history they barely know. But then another inheritance arrives for them in New York: a house on chicken legs, built by a Russian Jewish ancestor who survived the pogroms of the 1920s and the turmoil of the Russian Revolution. To Isaac, the house is an opportunity. To Bellatine, it is a home. But it comes with a curse: a shadow man follows the house to America, wanting to finish the destruction he started. I loved this story, woven through with Jewish folklore and American folk songs, a road trip story, a story of facing and accepting family history and how far its shadow falls into the present. I image this book gets compted with American Gods by Neil Gaimen and The Golem and the Jinni by Helen Wecker but it is very much its own book with its own lyrical tone. And its queer! Highly recommend.

The Death I Gave Him by Em X. Liu

This queer, modern retelling of Hamlet is set in a scientific lab and contained mostly within a tense 12 hours. Hayden Lichfield finds his father's cooling body in Elsinore labs within the first few pages; he immediately calls on the sentient AI system, Horatio, who controls the security cameras and many other aspects of the building. Horatio reports a 1.5 hour gap in the video logs. Hayden and his father, Dr Lichfield, were working on formula to reverse death. Hayden's immediate assumption is that the killer was after his father's research. The lab goes into lockdown and Hayden is trapped inside with his uncle Charles, lab technician Gabriel Rasmussen, Hayden's ex and research intern Felicia Xia, and her father Paul Xia, head of security. Unless they find an intruder, one of them is the murderer. I enjoyed how deftly this novel kept me guessing even when following a plot I know well. I was genuinely unsure how many, or who, of the people trapped in Elsinore would survive the night. I was also into the unashamed queerness of an AI in love with a human, and the ways in which that love could and could not be reciprocated.

The Feather Thief by Kirk Wallace Johnson read by MacLeod Andrews

This book does an unbelievably thorough job of recounting one of the most devastating recent thefts from a modern museum. In 2009, an American student studying at London's Royal Academy of Music broke into the Tring museum, which contains thousands of natural history specimens including birds collected by Charles Darwin and his contemporary Alfred Russel Wallace. Darwin and Wallace both independently formulated the theory of natural selection and survival of the fittest in the same decade, by observing and collecting birds on remote islands during the height of the British Empire. They both believed in the importance of preserving these birds for future science. At the same time, the colonial empire had developed a huge appetite for exotic and colorful feathers for Victorian hats, the cabinets of curiosities and natural history specimens which were in vogue in the upper class, and for another aristocrat's hobby: tying salmon flies. These appetites nearly drove many bird species to extinction. Modern day lovers of the Victorian art of salmon fly tying now comb the internet for feathers from these rare birds, desperate to get their hands on materials mentioned in Victorian books. The majority of these feathers are now semi-illegal to possess or sell. It was this obsession that drove 20 year old Edwin Rist to break a window at the Tring and escape with nearly 300 stolen bird skins. There followed a long detective investigation into how he'd done it and what happened with the feathers afterwards. I enjoyed the audiobook and was impressed by the persistence of the author, who pursued this story for half a decade.

Asylum by Greg Means and Kazimir Lee

A short but rich story about platonic adult friends who bond through a competitive fantasy card game, but end up supporting each other through all kinds of life transitions both joyful and heartbreaking. Allen and Zekia are both single, both wish they were dating or partnered, but instead they're sharing hotel rooms at geeky conventions, setting up mutual friends, attending weddings and funerals, babysitting other people's kids, and most of all playing the card game Asylum. Zekia, a Black lesbian, struggles with her self-worth, feeling unlovable and too socially awkward to date. Allen, a straight cis man, take a more philosophical view of his situation, appreciating the good things he has in life, including his many strong friendships. The black and white art is simple, clear, and effective. I read it all in one sitting!

Sincerely, Harriet by Sarah Winifred Searle

This is a very quiet and soft story of a girl struggling with an invisible chronic illness, and the resulting isolation and loneliness. Harriet and her parents recently moved to Chicago (to be closer to hospitals and specialists) and she doesn't know anyone in her neighborhood yet except the older woman, Pearl, who lives on a lower floor. Harriet misses friends she made at a summer camp and sends them postcards, lying about her new busy and fun social life. Pearl lends Harriet a series classic of books to try and gently nudge the girl out of her shell. But Harriet struggles to focus on them, instead wondering about a possible ghost living in the attic. There are other emotional struggles hinted at, but they are very subtle and a lot is left to the reader's imagination. The line art is very careful and lovely.

#comics #reading #books #book reviews #comic book reviews

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jewish-vents · 2 months

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I love Jewish converts so much. I need you all Jews in progress you're all so so brave and strong to be doing this now.

I need you to know how much I relate to you. I grew up secular with parents who hated the concept of religion, barely even celebrated holidays in a cultural way. I grew up knowing almost nothing about Judaism, only thing really culturally Jewish in my life was that I was taught Hebrew. Since moving out I've been trying to learn about Judaism and even started going to shul. I feel so outside of the culture that it almost feel like I'm converting.

An religious Jewish friend of mine told me how she doesn't understand why people would choose to become more religious or choose to convert, in a conversation that made me really uncomfortable. I need you to know I understand. And I love you. And that Am Yisrael Chai.

#jewish vents #jumblr #jewish solidarity #jewish positivity #jewish convert #jewish conversion

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loelysian · 1 year

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marmoris (chapter 4)

(n.) the shining surface of the ocean

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3

pairing: namor x reader

word count: 4.6k

summary: with war against the wakandans on the horizon, namor demands that you stay back in talokan for extra security but this is your home too. you want to fight for your people and that is exactly what you plan to do.

note: since this one shot was written by me, a jewish arab person, it is hinted that y/n is also from those cultures but if you are not, that is fine. in this chapter, though, y/n does speak some arabic but still, feel free to apply your own experiences to the scenarios i've written about. please keep in mind that i am not fluent in yucatec so i've used a translator for any scenes in talokan. if you find i've upset you or there is an error in regard to lore (i tried my best to recreate certain scenes from the movie but i've only seen it once). please comment and let me know so i can fix it and apologize. i do not mean to offend anybody. i hope you enjoy.

warnings: some references to ptsd (from the rescue in wakanda), y/n blaming herself for what happened to shuri and parental problems.

It seemed as though you couldn’t escape the familiar flashing red lights that beckoned the people of Talokan to the center of the city, reminding you of the very same noises that haunted you in your dreams, that reminded you of what occurred in Wakanda. It was a warning to them that something serious demanded their attention and that you and K’uk’ulkan would be there to deliver important news. You knew the Wakandans were coming and you knew how strong your people were—that they’d be able to defend themselves and hold their own in a fight, but you still worried.

Namor’s invasion was out of pure anger for what had occurred to both you and the guard that happened to be watching over Shuri and Riri, and while you knew it was bound to start a fight, you hadn’t expected a battle of this size to escalate as quickly as it did. Then again, the water-bomb that hit the palace directly struck the Queen and Riri and you were unsure whether or not they survived. Shuri, the princess, had also been missing when you checked the shipwreck and whenever you thought of her innocent smile, a pang of guilt thrummed in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel guilty—like you were to blame for everything that was going on around you. You wished you could take a moment to catch your breath, to analyze what was going on and make a better plan, but Namor had your hand in his, your fingers tangled together in a mess akin to something comforting and was swimming as fast as he could toward the throne. You could do nothing but follow as you bit your lip, hoping the world would freeze for a moment.

All you needed to do was catch your breath.

That didn’t happen.

Thrown against the propelling bubbles, your body was forced down, down, down until you were perched in your chair that rested beside Namor’s as he addressed Talokan. You didn’t dare move a muscle, your face a haunted calm you were sure frightened those who knew you best. The people of Talokan regarded you as a rather joyous person—you liked to make others laugh, but right now you felt as though you couldn’t. Stunted. Despite wanting everything around you to take a pause, you felt as though you were the one frozen, unable to move an inch. You felt scared, that much you could admit.

Your worst fears were becoming a reality and there was absolutely nothing you could do to prevent it from happening.

Namor tapped on the staff he held in his left hand twice which acted as a voice projection and cleared his throat, speaking loud and clear.

“Bey bey in hubieran u engañado (it seems as though i have been deceived).” Namor spoke calmly and you were reminded of how much he embodied a true leader, which he was, but if anything were to calm you down from your state of panic, it was sure to be him.

“Le wíiniko'obo' Wakanda secuestró a Reina, ba'ale' afortunadamente, páajchaj in taasik le tin wotoch (the people of wakanda kidnapped your queen, but thankfully, i was able to bring her home).” gasps filled the room and it brought you a sense of comfort knowing how much your people cared for you. As far as they were away, you had been injured during a routine hunting mission. Not kidnapped. Never kidnapped.

“U kaajil Wakanda k ts'o'ok pedido jump'éel k'atun. Taak u luchemos xu'ullsa'al leti'ob (the people of wakanda have called upon us for a war. they want us to fight them).” You watched as the crowd began to murmur to the people around them, eyeing Namor curiously as he spoke to them. Despite the emergency alarm system that had echoed throughout Talokan, the idea of war was almost foreign to them. There had been years upon years of peace. You could tell it worried them, but they masked brave faces for their ruler.

“Ba'ax a unirás tin wiknal utia'al tokik k wotoch (will you join me to defend our home)? he asked. Another moment of silence, albeit muffled as the crowd spoke to one another in hushed tones once more. Finally, they began chanting, eager to get out into the water to defend what they'd learned to call home—what had been their home for centuries. Despite your wish to stay frozen for a moment to catch your breath, you nodded to the crowd which only seemed to excite them more.

You dared a glance at your husband who wore a smile you hadn’t seen in weeks. Reflexively, you wanted to join him, but the reality of what was about to happen was floating over your head like a storm cloud on the brink of rainfall, pouring all over you. The bad news? You didn’t have an umbrella.

Sitting upon the throne now reminded you of many times prior when the two of you had news to present that wasn’t nearly as bad. A drastic turn for the worst? There was no way of knowing. You fought the urge to reach out and hold Namor’s hand, a grounding technique that helped calm you down from whatever you happened to be panicking over. When you’d lived on land, you remembered reading something about activating all of your senses in order to calm a panic attack. How touch, sight, your sense of smell and so many other factors that incorporated your body correlated with mental health. For you, the carpet on the floor of your mother’s bathroom was the perfect balance of soft yet scratchy that for a moment, it pulled you right out of your state of panic and had you focusing on something else entirely. Sometimes, you would braid the stringed ends as well and when you grew tired of that, you’d lay on the cold, tiled floor and stare up at the ceiling which had off-yellow water stains from the time your bath had overflowed without you knowing.

You still weren’t sure how that had happened.

Nowadays, since your mother’s carpet obviously wasn’t in your vicinity anymore, grabbing onto Namor’s hand did wonders for your state of mind. Usually, he would question why you were so upset—what had caused you to react the way you did, but he always made sure to wait until you were fully calmed down. He knew you liked your space, but he also knew that if you were to approach him with red-rimmed eyes and pursed lips, he’d place his hand on your thigh and let you intertwine your fingers together. He’d remind you to breathe, and he’d make you look at him to remind you that you were never going to be alone again—that he was and would always be there for you.

You had to admit it helped a lot.

On certain days when he wasn’t by your side, likely off assisting someone somewhere in Talokan since he was their ruler after all, you unclipped the bracelet that sat on your wrist most of the time and examined the beads, tracing them with the tip of your pointer finger as you watched them slide around on the string they’d been placed on so many years ago. Namor’s mother had been the one to create it and you were still so grateful he had trusted you with it, knowing how much it meant to him.

As a way to repay him, you’d given him your father’s ring, a token that reminded you of home and a childhood that would never be forgotten, and with your hand pressed against his lips, he promised he would never take it off.

Namor was excellent at keeping his word.

You’d given him the ring a year ago and there was never a time he didn’t have it on him.

Engraved on the ring was a saying that was of great importance to your family. You’d taught him what it meant one night when the two of you were unable to fall asleep.

During restless nights, Namor liked to sketch you anywhere he could. On the walls of your bedroom, on a scroll, on the ceiling—he was enthralled with you. With your beauty and the way you held yourself. You were captivating.

It was storming on the surface of the water and despite how far away you were from shore, you could feel the thunder vibrating within the walls of your room. Thunder had always been a fear of yours and despite being exhausted from everything you had done that day, you knew you weren’t getting any sleep so you watched as Namor began sketching on a blank space you had in the corner of your shared room.

Your father’s ring shone brightly from the light in your room and sparkled where it stood.

“ʿaāʾilatiī hiya quwatiī wa ḍaʿfiī (my family is my strength and my weakness).” you spoke, enunciating each word carefully. It had been nearly three years since you’d spoken those words aloud. Despite the familiarity of it, it still felt foreign to you. Like you were intruding on something that wasn’t any of your business. Like you’d said something you weren’t supposed to.

You had been so caught up in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed your husband by your side, a comforting hand resting on your knee as he asked if you were alright. He wore a calm expression letting you know it was okay, so you breathed out and shut your eyes.

“The ring. That’s what the ring says. I don’t know why I wasn’t ready to tell you. I guess the finality of it all stung. It reminds me of my father.” you spoke slowly, your voice shaky as you bit your lip.

When you’d agreed to join Namor and his people in Talokan as opposed to staying on land, you’d had to give up your parents. You knew it would hurt you—never seeing somebody you cared for tended to do that, but you hadn’t registered just how badly it would sting.

Your relationship with your parents had been rocky at best after you’d taken the apprenticeship in San Diego. They were against you living so far away from home, but after the blip, when you’d had the chance to connect with them once more—to truly speak with them, you were beginning to question whether or not you'd made the right decision. Your brain told you yes. It had been your dream since you were a child, after all, but they were your parents. They’d raised you—you loved them more than anything. That was why your heart had told you no.

None of that mattered anymore anyhow since you were living with Namor, but the less you thought about your father and mother, the less it hurt, so you tried to forget they ever existed.

Though, when you’d given Namor your father’s ring, the bitter bile in the back of your throat felt taunting. For a moment, you began to wonder if this was a huge mistake. There was no going back now, anyhow, so you blinked for a moment, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall and handed it to him, closing his palm so you wouldn’t have to see it.

He’d looked at you confusedly, the soft reminisce of a smile creasing his forehead but you shook your head and pressed his hand tighter, your way of silently telling him to take it—take the ring and wear it.

Namor did. As a way to honor you, he never took it off. In fact, he wore it proudly.

You weren’t sure why you always told him you’d tell him what the engravement on the ring meant another time, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to say it without crying so when you finally did, you were shocked the tears never came.

“The saying. It is beautiful.” he spoke, his lips brushing against your ear. Despite your best efforts, you found yourself shivering into his touch, a small smile forming on your face. It felt good. This felt good.

You were happy he’d appreciated what was on the ring—that he hadn’t asked for answers, waiting instead for your response and your response only.

“I understand why it was so hard for you to tell me and I appreciate that you could.” then he did the unexpected. He took the ring off of his finger and placed it onto yours. At your confused gesture, he leaned down and softly pressed his lips against yours. You smiled into the kiss, growing limp against his touch like you normally did when he finally separated to catch his breath. His eyes were so, so pretty. You cupped his cheek in yours and took a moment to stare at him—at your husband, admiring how lovely he looked, kissing the tip of his nose and finally, resting your head against his shoulder.

“This was a gift for you.” you said simply, holding your hand out in front of the both of you so you could admire your father’s ring.

“But I appreciate the way it makes you smile far more.” he rests his head atop yours and threads your fingers together.

“You would have loved my father.” you mumbled. While it still hurt to talk about, you felt you needed to. No more bottling things up.

“If he was anything like you, I’m sure I would.” he whispered against his hair.

“Sometimes I see him in my dreams. He looks youthful, leaning against my mother while they watch me swim in the ocean. I wish,” you cut yourself off. If you finished that sentence, you weren’t sure what might happen. It felt dangerous.

“I know you want to see him. I wish I could let that happen, but it is too much of a risk.” you shut your eyes, something deep in your chest aching. There was so much you wanted to say but you couldn’t muster enough strength to open your mouth.

You sat there for a long time remembering your childhood, everything you’d done with your father and that night, you dreamt of him.

It was chaos. Pure chaos as everyone raced to the armorer, gathering everything they could fit into their hands. In the midst of everything, you could hear the faint sound of children crying as everyone rushed, preparing themselves for the inevitable battle. The fish had warned Namor of the Wakandan ship that was toying in the water and despite wanting to believe they were using it for something else, you weren't naive. As queen, you couldn’t be.

Once you were back in your room, you took a moment to finally catch your breath, sliding down one of the walls and onto the floor, your knees pressed against your chest as you felt your emotions getting the better of you. There was a debate in your mind as you wanted nothing more than to join the fight—these were your people now too. You wanted to do everything you could to defend them from external threats. You had been training as well in case a moment like this were to arise, and seeing as it had, you knew what you had to do.

It took you a moment, but you mustered enough strength to pick yourself up and headed toward the armorer which was now barren, everyone having gathered in the center of Talokan to await orders from Namor. Inside the armorer was a secret compartment you were made privy to during your first tour—a place where a consorts armor was to be stored—kept hidden from the people of Talokan until K’uk’ulkan married. Now that he was, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the key to unlock said compartment and grabbed the colorful armor accompanied with a jeweled eye mask that reminded you of the bracelet that adorned your wrist. A quick glance over your shoulder let you know the coast was clear so you flung the armor over your shoulder and slipped out the same way you came in.

When you got back to your room, you were greeted with an anxious Namor pacing back and forth. He seemed to be deep in thought. You paused, wondering where you could quickly stow the armor so he wouldn’t notice it but you decided you’d just walk in when he turned toward you, his face full of exasperation. You watched as his eyes shifted toward the armor and back onto your face and did the best ‘I know you won’t agree with this but I’m doing it anyway’ face you could. His gaze stiffened. You could tell he had so much on his mind—so much he wanted to say.

“I can’t let you go,” was all that tumbled out. “If something were to happen to you,” his voice pulled on your heartstrings but this was something you had to do.

“Namor, my love, these are my people too. If Talokan falls then all of this,” you gestured at the intricately designed walls and glanced behind you at the open door, watching as Talokan’s rushed to the center of the city in clothing fit for battle. “Is for nothing.” it was a whisper and you wanted to bite your lip, a grounding technique you’d been doing since you were a small child, but you had to remain strong for the sake of yourself and for the sake of Namor.

“The people of Talokan need you. I need you.” and it was damning. His eyes were watering you could tell he wanted nothing more than to envelop you in a hug, pressing his head against yours as he held you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ears but there were more pressing matters at hand.

Your eyes met his and you held the armor in front of you, gazing at it. You had to admit it was beautiful like most things in Talokan were. That was why you had to go. That was why you had to fight. Even if you died trying. This was your home, too.

“You have to trust that I will be okay,” you reached you, then, the tips of your fingers ghosting against his as you whispered, “ʿaāʾilatiī hiya quwatiī wa ḍaʿfiī (my family is my strength and my weakness). Don’t let me be your weakness. Let me be your strength.” despite how close the two of you were, your voice was barely above a whisper as you stared into his eyes with intent. He was searching yours, trying to find something you knew was not there, so you took a step back, changing into the armor right in front of his eyes.

It fit on top of the clothes you were already wearing and it hugged your body well, snug in certain places but still yours. You were his consort. You were made to wear it.

Namor gazed at you in awe, starstruck. You could tell he was conflicted. How could you not?

“I’m doing this.” your voice was more firm, letting him know there was no room for bargaining.

“You must stick by my side the entire time. I cannot lose you.” was all he said before he intertwined his fingers with yours, swimming toward the center of Talokan.

War was near and you were ready to fight.

At Namor’s call, a school of orcas arrived right outside of Talokan, ready to carry everyone to the lone Wakandan ship that sat in the middle of the ocean. One of those orca’s happened to be yours—you recognized the fact that one of her flippers was smaller than the other and it brought a smile to your face knowing she was willing to help you once again. When the two of you had met, you’d named her Ara, which meant ‘to bring rain.’ You thought it was fitting since it had been pouring on the surface the day you’d learned to tame an orca.

Ara chirped in happiness, something relating to how happy she was to see you and you put a hesitant hand out, waiting for her to brush her nose against it. She did and chirped once more, repeating your name numerous times. After you’d taken the vibranium-infused liquid, you were able to understand all kinds of aquatic mammals.

“Hey girl,” you pet underneath her chest and much like a dog, she bumped her nose against your chest softly of course.

She chirped a warm hello your way and let numerous people hop onto her back, awaiting your command. You allowed yourself a glance over at Namor who was helping another group of people onto their orca. The two of you shared a soft smile before you mounted Ara and awaited Namor’s directions. Of course, all Ara could do was pay attention to you, her chirps almost distracting as she asked you about what you had been up to since the last time the two of you had spoken.

“I promise I’ll tell you after,” you whispered just as Namor spoke, his voice loud and clear.

“Tuláakal presten óolal! U'uyej ba'ax a arma ku ya'alik teech ka mantente enfocado. Ganaremos. Mantats' ku k meentik ti' le pasado. Talokan prevalecerá (everyone pay attention! listen to what your weapon tells you and stay focused. we will win. we always have in the past. talokan will prevail).” after he finished his speech, Namor lifted his staff in the air, the crowd cheering him on.

Once he was on his orca, he thrusted his staff forward and took off, Ara anxiously awaiting your orders.

“Go!” you shouted, smiling as she sped off into the deep blue sea.

It only took you a few moments to arrive and you had to admit you weren’t expecting the Wakandans to be so close. The shadow of their ship reflected off your body as you quickly tied your water-mask to the back of your head, instructing everyone on the back of your orca to do the same. You watched as Namor’s group jumped off their orca and swamped toward the surface but your eyes caught onto Namora who headed toward the propellers. She was likely going to stop the ship from moving, or sink it.

Namor had vanished as well, probably already fighting on the surface so you raised your voice, catching everyone’s attention.

“Tuméen in orden, mixba'al (on my command, swim up)!” you shouted, emitting nods from everyone who was still holding onto Ara.

You could hear the water-bombs firing off on the ship and the water grew shaky and uncertain as numerous bodies fell into the ocean. It reminded you of everything that had happened on Wakanda and you had to physically shake your head to stop the thoughts from affecting you.

“They probably need reinforcements,” you whispered to yourself. Everyone on Ara was anxiously waiting for the call and finally, you gave it to them.

“Báab (swim)!” everyone flew to the surface at once and the first thing you registered, like on Wakanda, were the screams.

You reminded yourself to stay focused. You’d get killed if you distracted yourself.

There were numerous Talokan’s using rope to pull themselves onto the ship but the Dora Milaje were one step ahead of your people, shimmying off the top of the boat to pluck everyone off one by one.

There also happened to be a flying suit in the air that reminded you of Iron Man but you ignored it, instead putting your focus on instructing everyone and fending off attackers that fell into the water.

You had a spear made of vibranium and luckily, hadn’t had to use it yet, but as more and more Wakandans fell into the water, you began to worry you were going to be outnumbered. With Namor nowhere in sight, you were technically in charge of the invasion and looked to find Attuma or Namora, his best trusted fighters to see what you were to do next, but they were either on the boat or gone. A sinking feeling in your gut settled in as you watched the battle go on knowing you should help—knowing you needed to assist them but you were frozen, your body unable to move from where it was floating on the surface.

A nudge against your legs pulled you out of your dangerous daze and reflexively, you pointed your spear toward what you thought had been an attacker though it was only Ara checking to make sure you were okay. She whined, worried you might have gotten hurt but you promised her you were fine and began swimming toward the boat, gripping onto the bottom of the rope. The Dora Milaje were nowhere in sight as your row pulled themselves up and onto the ship. Once you finally made it to the top, you were helped on board and everyone nodded in your direction as you tried to assess the damage. Namor was still nowhere in sight and the sun stung your back.

You tried looking for Okoye, but you noticed Nakia instead. She was busy taking care of about three people and the last thing you wanted to do was upset somebody with a weapon in their hands so you kept your distance, shouting for everyone around you to stand their ground. You outnumbered the Wakandans substantially but they put up a good fight—so did the Talokan’s though. They would do absolutely anything to defend their home.

Someone shouting Shuri caught your attention, though. You desperately searched the crowd for whose voice it belonged to but you came up short. You knew you’d heard it. That must mean she was alive, and if that was the case, maybe that was where Namor was.

tag list: @eerievixen @ichigimm @avsphroeg @borderline1bored @gamorxa @zeeader

#namor x you #namor x y/n #namor x reader #namor fanfic #namor fic #namor fanfiction #namor the sub mariner #arab reader #jewish reader

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rebelliouswhirlpool · 4 months

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Aziraphale, Crowley, Herschel of Ostropol, Chanukah, and a story...

Sooo there's no way I can think of (and I have been thinking on this a lot) that this post isn't going to be a little bit awkward, but it's going to exist anyway.

A year ago, in 2022, I saw this post from 2021 by @anonymousdandelion on Aziraphale and Crowley meeting Herschel of Ostropol (protagonist of Herschel and the Hanukkah Goblins, a Jewish children's book, as well as a Jewish folkloric figure).

Then, a) being Jewish and Herschel and the Hanukkah Goblins being a fondly remembered book from my childhood, b) someone who enjoys Good Omens, c) also a fic writer and, d) the idea being adoptable, I started to write a story.

(and okay, it's taken me roughly a year to give it a solid shape (long story short that's less to do with the story itself and more to do with me figuring some things out about what and who I want to write for, but I digress), but the fic itself very much exists now.)

I planned to have the full Chapter 1 done in time for Chanukah this year. Due to life in general being pretty chaotic, that hasn't happened. Instead, under the read more is a preview (the first scene of chapter 1), because I still wanted to post some part of it for the holiday.

Some Fic Notes:

-This story is, arguably, two stories intertwined. One that takes place in the 'present day' (though before the Apocalypse, etc.), and one that takes place during the Herschel story.

-It will largely follow the perspective of and by driven by OCs. Though, Aziraphale and Crowley will have a strong presence and influence, it didn't feel like it was their story to tell.

-It is written with two base structural rules in mind;

Aziraphale and Crowley had a hand in the stories of Herschel of Ostropol being remembered. The original kernel this fic was built around and expanded from was answering the question of how that happens.

There can be absolutely no interference in Herschel's story happening in the synagogue (i.e. the narrative of the children's book cannot be altered). Though, that doesn't necessarily mean Herschel is prevented from appearing in the story ;)

Story Preview Beneath The Cut

Generally speaking, the old bookshop is almost always closed.

If one, however, is in ownership of a decent set of lock picks, they may find it otherwise.

For what it’s worth, Tziporah (Tzi to her close friends, Nora to most everyone else at school, and young lady to almost all adults—including her parents, Bubbie, aunties and uncles, and the odd, inconvenient passerby—all who’ve caught her getting into trouble), most of the time, does her best to not use her lock picks. It’s just…it’s…

It’s like this, alright?

Tzi was born into a family with a long, long, long tradition of bookbinding. The kind that historians sometimes visit to ask stuffy questions about. The kind that causes librarians to visit requesting restorations of aging tomes. The kind that means their home has a dedicated workshop full of fairly ancient machinery that no one outside of the family knows how to use. Of course, there are other bookbinders in the world who would certainly recognize and understand the functionality of the more modern pieces of equipment Tzi’s family has. They just won’t recognize all of what they use. Not the Family bits.

The point being, when you grow up in such a setting, you tend to learn certain things. The store names and locations of almost every bookshop dealing in antique or rare books fairly close by, for instance. Also, a lot of the owners become familiar faces (or have been since before Tzi could remember). As the future of the Family Tradition, it’s only natural that she should accompany whomever is doing the deliveries or house calls regularly.

Thus, when you have this knowledge and you can be an Extremely Trustworthy Child (sure, Tzi may cause trouble regularly, but some things (like books, it’s books) are far too precious not to be Extremely Careful about), you’re, more often than naught, allowed to explore such bookshops, and read to your heart’s content.

And if you’re Tzi and you’re allowed to come along on a visit to The Bookshop That You’re Family Rarely Does Business With Because Their Books Are Almost Always In Unexplainable, Impeccable Condition, you’re going to want to read something (and you inevitably will).

The problem of course becomes, if you happen to be Tzi, and your mother, or father or whomever finishes up the Official Business rather quickly, you don’t have enough time to finish whatever it is you’re reading. And it being The Bookshop That You’re Family Rarely Does Business With Because Their Books Are Almost Always In Unexplainable, Impeccable Condition, you know you probably won’t have the opportunity to come back. At least not on an official bookbinding-related visit. Not for a Long While.

First, you’ll try coming back during regular business hours, as you have for many a bookshop previously.

Except, this bookshop doesn’t seem to have regular business hours.

So, given the story you were reading has been buzzing around your head for days, you come up with an alternate method.

Tzi isn’t going to take anything of course! She’s going to be extremely careful. She just wants to finish the story.

No one will ever know she was even there!

Except the giant snake waiting for her on the other side of the door.

If Tzi didn’t regularly inhabit spaces full of delicate books in need of repair or the equally delicate tools used to repair them, she would have jumped. As it stands, she finagles the lock open, slips in through the door quietly, turns around to the face the bookshop proper, and and a yelp almost escapes her lips. The snake, black as ink and with scales bigger than Tzi’s thumb, regards her coolly with brilliant golden eyes. She stares back, hyperventilating at first, but as the seconds pass and nothing happens, her breathing evens out.

“You aren’t going to eat me, are you?” Tzi asks the snake.

The snake’s tongue flicks out and back. It doesn’t say anything, or stop gazing at her for that matter.

Tzi studies the snake with more scrutiny. “I don’t suppose you could. I mean, of course I know snakes can unhinge their jaws and all, but even if you did, you look like you aren’t big enough to fit more than my arm in your mouth, and then what would you do? You’d be stuck hanging off my shoulder.”

There’s a long beat where it seems they’re both considering this possibility (in truth, only Tzi is, in a ‘walking into school with a giant snake hanging off my arm would be really cool’ kind of way. The giant snake, for what it’s worth, is feeling mildly insulted by the implication that he’d try to eat her).

“Well,” Tzi finally says. “I did plan for this.”

Technically speaking, she only sort of planned for this. Tzi had been skeptical of the rumored sightings of a (pet?) snake in this particular bookshop when she first heard them. More so after she visited for the first time and no such snake could be located. Regardless, when One Is Determined To Finish The Book She Was Reading, One Has To Prepare For As Many Possibilities As Possible. So, Tzi had hardboiled a few eggs (because an article she read once said snakes like to eat eggs) and put them in a tupperware and put that tupperware in her bag before she left home an hour ago.

Tzi takes the egg tupperware out of her bag now and shows it to the snake. “Would you like one? They’re tastier than me, I promise.”

The snake turns its head slightly down to look at the eggs in their unassuming plastic container, and then turns back to gaze at Tzi again.

It’s at this moment that Tzi remembers the article she’d read had been about foxes, not snakes, and that she may have just insulted this particular snake (since snakes lay eggs, right? Tzi is fairly certain of that fact, but all snake facts she knows seem to have taken her seeking them as an impromptu game of Hide and Seek in her mind and they are hiding Very Well).

Tzi gulps (and briefly considers pretending one of the eggs is a stone and crushing it as a show of strength to intimidate the snake, but he can clearly see they’re eggs so that probably won’t work).

In the end, Tzi’s desire to just find the book she wants to read already, reinforced by the snake not doing much beyond staring at the eggs, wins out.

(For what it’s worth, when the snake in question has confronted intruders into the bookstore in the past, the intruders have usually taken more aggressive approaches to him. Eggs in a plastic container gifted by a girl who clearly isn’t going to run screaming at the sight of him is certainly New, and he’s not going to be given enough time to fully figure out how to respond).

Tzi places the egg tupperware down on the floor in front of the snake and snaps off the lid. “Sooo…” She draws the word out. “I’m going to go read.” She tentatively sidesteps away from the snake. When he doesn’t react, she goes to hurry off, stops herself, turns back, takes a deep breath, and “You’rewelcometojoinmeifyoulike!” tumbles from her mouth.

Without waiting for a response, Tzi darts through the chaotically organized bookshelves of the shop until she finds the one holding the book she’s after. Gingerly she plucks it off its shelf and, after memorizing its place so she can return it to exactly there, sets off for a comfortable place to sit and read.

All the while, the snake slithers after her.

After a couple minutes of fruitlessly trying to find a seat, the snake bumps its snout into Tzi’s shoulder and, when she looks at it, points her in the direction of a comfy-looking armchair that, hidden in the shadows as it is, previously escaped her notice.

Once settled, Tzi gently opens the book, finds the place she left off, and begins to read.

It’s well into the evening, after the traveler who called himself Herschel had gone up to the old synagogue, that two more visitors arrived in our small town…

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #herschel and the hanukkah goblins #hanukkah #eddy writes

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