#She's jewish and would be old enough to have been around for the last one

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Ragman

So Ragman is a hero in DC comics. Ragman was originally created to replace the golem and protect the Jewish people over the centuries. The mantle and costume has been passed down over the years and the current Ragman is Rory Regan

Ragman’s costume is an ancient artifact made of rags. The rags are actually evil souls so the dude is running around dressed in souls. He can actually take someone’s soul and make it another rag in his suit. The suit has a collective personality Ragman can communicate with. It enhances his physical abilities, endurance, and gives him some mystical abilities, including sensing evil souls. He can also call upon some abilities and attributes of the souls he has collected.

 He’s a proficient magician and has been part of the justice league, shadowpact, and the sentinels of magic. He was active in destroying demons when they were invading earth at one point

So why am I bringing Ragman up?

So we had Danny, half ghost and tapdancing on the line between life and death, who fought against the Ghost king’s invasion of Amity. Then we have Ragman, cloak in a costume made from evil souls who fought demons to protect earth. 

It feels like there is something there, something we can work with...

[r3starttt]

CALL ME BY YOUR NAME | 01

fic M.list | read this or dni

Somewhere in northern Italy.

It was summer, it’s been hot, unbearable hot the last few weeks. Your family, all Jewish, have a not so small cottage with the most gorgeous landscape ever, and that’s where you all spend any vacation or holiday that appears. Which is the current case.

Your mother’s and anthropologist, meaning she adores places with history like the small town you’re at, and teaching people since she can always learn new things as well. Your dad on the other hand, he’s just doing what a housewife would do, he’s a professor as well, just doesn’t really work since you were born, that’s the agreement your parents made.

So with that on mind you well knew this summer wouldn’t be any different, your mom with some new student who died to live the whole leaving in Italy experience and your dad being the perfect parent. Perfect family in a perfect place leaving and teaching the perfect live.

Not that you mind it though.

Coming to Italy means getting to see old friends, having new situationships with hot Italians and of course, visiting extravagant places your family likes going to and learning something new, whether it’s from reading another book like you’re used to, visiting museums or just going to somehow new anthropological areas that your mom adores taking you to.

It’s nice, and you never get bored even you do this at least twice a year. There’s always something new to experience.

You were currently in your room with what you considered an old friend, pretty close one. Curly hair, pretty, and stupidly in love with you. Marzia. The hot breeze that came from the window in your room filled the emptiness between both. You currently changing your clothes and her eyes purely fixated on your body.

That until the wooden floor of the house started to resound and vibrate, accompanied by the loud engineer of a probably old car. That was it “l'usurpatore” as you and Marzia called the new student your mom brought every holiday to your house.

Ignoring her basically eye fucking you, you decided to go and have a preview of this new person, just by the way its arrival sounded you could have an idea of how they would be. Probably on their thirties or forties, rich and a bit sophisticated because otherwise they wouldn’t have pay for this type of experience.

So you ran to the nearest window, not in your room to of course to one, avoid Marzia, and two, avoid the obviousness of your presence while criticizing whoever new guests you’d have to live together with for the next month.

The floor was old, and it was as loud as that engineer that kept sounding, until both stopped in unison, right on time so you could have a proper view. Interrupted, of course, by Marzia and some strings of her hair moving along with the air, right behind you but enough striking to catch the slightest of your attention. “E' fiducioso, eh?” you whispered once you hear It’s voice, she sounded pretty confident, loud.

There she was, a tall blonde woman with what it looked like a perfectly made braid ruined by both the unbearable heat of this place and the breeze that besides doing nothing but sending the hot of the air everywhere was also annoyingly loud.

She said something inaudible to both your parents, you could hear their voices but not loud enough to catch a word they said. By the way they shook hands and the way she kissed them on the cheek you assumed it was just a boring greet.

That meant two things, Marzia leaving and you having to take care of the guest for the rest of the week at least until they catch their pace. Yet before you even excuse yourself properly from Marzia the loud voice of your dad calling for you took you out of your thoughts, turning around and giving your curly haired friend a polite kiss on the cheek. “Devo andare giù” you said, letting her know you’ll be downstairs if not completely gone the moment your parents made you socialize with the woman.

Running and tryin your best to properly put on your clothes you went downstairs, accompanied by the loud sound of the wood along the whole floor and your sandals hitting the floor. There she was.

They were just coming inside the house to your moms office, now your own library too. Your dad motioned your hand so you would come in as well, murmuring a quiet and repetitive “come here”.

You made sure everyone was inside before coming in, getting a small peak of what this woman’s car looked like, again. It was fancy, clean and covered in a very shiny dark green. Suit her, you thought.

The moment you pass the door frame there it is, taller than you, stronger than you and with the most exquisite style you’ve ever seen someone wear. Maybe it was the way she knew how to combine both texture and color, or just her whole appearance, but she was by far the best looking guest you’ve ever had.

“This is our daughter” your mom said, stepping aside with a glass in hand, always so elegant. You said your name, the blonde woman smiled at you, extending her arm towards your direction to shake hands “Abby”

“You must be exhausted” she nodded, not as confidently as you saw her when she first arrived “may I bring your things up to your room?” a small "uhh" brushed past her lips before she ultimately agreed “my room?” you turned around, facing your dad who’s orders you already knew, followed by a silent nod. You replied the same way, slightly crouching to help Abby carry her bags to your room.

“follow her” some pats were heard after you turned around, probably your mom patting her somewhere in her body to do as she told her to, follow you to her room. After that you could only hear the silent footsteps behind you, until they overlapped with ones even louder. Marzia.

You exchanged looks with her, pressuring to go upstairs again and passing by her completely. Until the silence was broken by a kiss on someone’s cheek, making you turns around to see both and just running your eyes at the ironic scene that thankfully didn’t last much in front of you.

Once in your now old room, the door slapped loudly, making the woman jump by the abruptly echo in the room. The light had gone darker, letting in a blue ish color to fulfill the whole room. The bags fell in the floor for you to finish cleaning the room you’ve just made a mess in while changing clothes, picking them and placing them disastrously in your closet.

Last thing you saw was her body lying on your bed shamelessly. Her white t-shirt wrinkling as she did “you have my room now, I’ll be next door” your would probably sounded like mumbled to her at this point but you were doing the usual protocol. She hummed a tiredly ‘mhm’ looking you from the corner of her eye.

“We’ll be sharing the bathroom, hope you don’t mind it” you got on the floor to pick one last pair of jeans you’d left in the room, smiling at the random appearance of quiet snores behind you. She’d fallen asleep, probably exhausted as your parents just said.

That made you wonder where was she from, that was usually information your parents didn’t share with you.

-

Hours passed by, the sky was alredy tainted dark blue fading into almost completely black. It was one of those evenings where you could hear the crickets chirping loudly in the outside, the air even though was warm it wasn’t annoying, it was refreshing enough, quiet and peaceful. Sooner you should be called for dinner.

Currently you were sitting at your desk, hand facing the cold of it as you kept staring at the score with some notes previously made with a sharpened pencil that had left some annotations impossible to erase. The low music coming from your headphones however wasn’t enough to silent the bell that, as you thought, made sure everyone knew and got ready for dinner.

So you stood up, placing everything displayed on your desk decently enough to give the look of tidiness. Grabbing then the sandals randomly placed on the floor and quietly walking towards the door that lead to your original room now occupied by Abby. Knuckles hitting the cold and tough wood that adorned the door, three times, no answer at all.

Getting inside, as the door squeaked loudly you took a glance of the inside. Eyes falling immediately on the still sleepy body of the woman. A giggle escaped your mouth as you noticed, she’d woken up sometime since the last time you saw her since the braid wasn’t there anymore, replaced by her natural long hair that somehow you didn’t see when she first arrived.

-

Next day you woke up to your usual routine. The heat that filled the room accompanied by the unbearable sun that came trough the window woke you up early in the morning, before you could start sweating you took a usual shower with the coldest water possible, that also came warm due the ambience being hot and the sun naturally warming everything.

Red t-shirt and a pair of shorts with some white tennis shoes, that was today’s fit. It was basic, not elegant or fancy at all but it looked good and was just right for the climate you were still getting used to.

Breakfast was ready before you even went downstairs so you took your time before doing so. Yet the moment you sat and took the first bite of the food the lady that helped at that house made just for you, there she was. Amazingly energetic compared to yesterday but talkative as you remember, greeting your parents with her loud voice and just murmuring a small ‘hi’ to you, which you replied the same.

As they spoke about how much Abby had slept yesterday and some other stuff you naturally ignored she mentioned something about a bank account, feeling the heavy look of both your parents directed to you “I can show you around” the warm smile you received from them made you pay attention back. This is when your job started, showing the town to every new usurpatore.

“That’ll be great thanks” probably the hunger combined with the energy she’s gotten from sleeping so much the day before is playing her dirty, because such woman can’t be so ignorant. She broke the egg, the simplest food to eat. Of course the silent chuckle that passed her lips and the way her cheeks noticeable tainted in a rose tone made you say nothing about it, or do something as you would done with any other person.

She looked nice, that played part on it too. She had a blue striped blouse and a pair of white shorts, everything perfectly well-off and suiting her toned body just right. Shirt opened enough to show a but of the tank top she was wearing under, showing also a collar, you couldn’t really tell what it was but it looked like it was something religiously. No judgment though.

-

After breakfast you took her out, to see the town, have a small tour and get an idea of where things were so she could move in her own later. You originally suggested bicycles but she’s apparently too sophisticated for that. So she took the two of you on her car, the one you saw yesterday when she arrived.

It took you two some minutes to get to the main town square, she wanted to get something fresh because of the hotness that was everywhere. There was a pretty famous bar nearby, so she basically dragged you there, naturally having some small talk with everyone inside the whole time you were there.

It didn’t last long though, she wanted to get back outside to “live the whole experience” so you’re currently sitting with her on some bench she found, covered by some trees yet still warm. “So, what does one do here?” she had what seemed like some random sheets with something related to your mom’s job. You’ve seen her work your whole life and being a very visual person you could always tell when there was something anthropology related.

You were reading a book, accompanying her in her small trip quietly and so far doing nothing but small talk with her. So when you heard her you took a moment to process her words, too focused on your own world. Closing and placing the book on the bench, between the two of you and letting out a heavy sigh before answering. “Wait for the summer to end” she chuckled, that’s when you saw her.

She had some front stands of her hair now loose from her slicked braid, gracefully dancing over her cheeks due the breeze. Her cheeks were slightly red and there was some not so visible sweat covering the entrance of her hair.

She did the same as you, placing her sheets down and covering them with your book so they wouldn’t fly away. Her eyes met yours probably for the third time since she first met you. “Yeah?” her tone clearly sarcastic elicited a smile on your face, fading before she let you say anything “And what do you do in the winter? wait for summer to come?” tilting her head to the side she rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, not breaking eye contact once at all.

Your words came out almost as a reflex, feeling her gaze piercing your whole body “We only come here for Christmas and other holidays…for vacation” your voices overlapped, yet none of you stopped “Christmas? I thought-“ “like Easter as well-“ “I thought you were Jewish”

“Well we are Jewish, but, also American…Italian, French, somewhat a typical combination” you responded once she finally shut up, thankfully, you thought. She didn’t speak again, just stared back at you, nodding and letting out a very inaudible ‘mhm’ “besides my family you’re probably the only Jewish that’s put a foot in this town”

Her face changed, she looked relaxed now, even let out a small laugh “oh so you noticed?” you nodded as an answer, proud of your gossipy self “Im from a small town in New England, I know what it’s like to feel different” so, she’s from England. That says a lot about her.

“So what do you do around here?” She’s been dying to ask that. Abby felt that you, being so young and just about to star your adult life, had lots of free time, and she needed to know what you did in such place like this town. She had no clue about you but she felt like you knew everything about her, she wasn’t so wrong on that though. “Read books, transcript music, swim at the river, go out at night, I dunno” you finally answered, unsure on what to say since deep inside you there was a craving for her acceptance “sounds fun”

After that she just casually putted together all the sheets she’d been reading or writing stuff on. “Thanks kiddo, see ya’” and she left.

You were confused, unsure on how to get back home with this painful weather and on why she randomly left after having a proper talk with you for the first time. You didn’t hesitated or anything, naturally waving at her as she left.

It’s not like she owned you anything after all, the plan was for you to show her the town and that’s all. Now you knew she took things literally.

Or that’s the impression she gave.

-

It’d been a whole day after that, you didn’t see her when she came back home. You spent all day in your room, finishing those music sheets you’ve been working on, reading and spending some time before dinner with Marzia.

At this point she basically lived with you as well, and honestly you never got why your parents let her. Maybe they were being a little too supportive.

Or you two were a little too obvious.

Today’s morning went as usual, the typical routine you’ve been repeating for some weeks already. Along Abby now, who spent some hours with your mom debating on some random stuff you didn’t even tried to pay attention to and debating on some etymological definition for some word.

Which only made both of your parents more exited about her presence since no other student had ever try and correct your mom. It made you smile, it was interesting to see someone like her interact with someone like your parents, like your family.

The plan for today was to spend some time with your friends, something your parents suggested when Marzia was present someday and that made you say yes to it because how could you deny anything to her?

Later have a small dinner, outside on the beautiful garden your dad loved to take care of. And of course Abby was included in everything, whether she decided to be there or not, the invitation was there.

The climate today wasn’t the most adequate for what you planned to do, it was hot, as it has never been before. The sun burned and the air wasn’t fresh, no shadow could bring comfort, no breeze or drink could get rid of the warm that was everywhere.

So when Abby took from you the glass with ice and cold water that you needed to drink it didn’t make you smile exactly. And she noticed your unpleasant expression, laughing at you. “Why’re your mad mhm? Don’t be so tense” there was something about those words that made you want to rip your skin. It was painfully annoying to hear people say anything about how you didn’t look so happy.

Maybe it was only you but every time those words were hear there was a context of someone purposely annoying you. And maybe it was the way you were raised and how this woman kept on ruining every opportunity she had to know you better but you just couldn’t take it.

So you shocked your head, feeling overwhelmed by your friends loud cheers to someone playing volleyball and the warm that was slowly consuming your body, almost burning every cell in your body.

“Yeah you are, here, take this” she returned the glass you were about to drink some seconds ago, too disgusted to mix saliva you hold it, trying to find comfort at least by holding it. And it wasn’t until she pressed her hands on your back that you realized what she intended to do.

A massage. So you would be so moody and tense and annoyed.

So you tried push her away, but besides she kept being insistent and her body was though er and stronger than yours you didn’t really care, not if she was the one giving you a whole massage session.

“Stop moving” she hissed, practically manhandling you and starting to move her palms on top of your back, pressing right on the muscle “Marzia, come here” you heard right next to your ear, naturally rolling your eyes and straightening your back. Why Marzia and not her?

-

-

“Don’t you think he’s rude when he says ‘later’?” you sat right in front of your mom, already changed into some more fancy clothes, still fresh for the hot that was somehow still in the air even though it was night and the stars were already shining in the sky, lightening everything along the moon. “Arrogant”

Your dad spoke, pouring some liquid you assumed was juice with some alcohol in it or frutal water into what seemed like your glass “l don’t think that’s the word” he extended the glass to you, which you took with a slightly fake but polite smile.

“That’s how she’ll say goodbye, with a stupid ‘later’ and then will never come back” maybe your mistake was your creativity because you could picture her like it, too real and accurate for someone like her “Well, we still have to be with her for six long weeks. Maybe you’ll grow to like her” your mom said, standing from her chair to grab something that was on your side of the table. “or maybe I’ll grow to hate her” your mom took advantage of her closeness, hitting your hand.

It was clear you were annoyed. It felt like everyone in that table knew something you didn’t and was making fun of it.

I could be Abby’s absence, but the idea of her presence fit better with your ideas. You hated how she was so confusing and impossible to read, how she ignored you and only played with you whenever she was in fact around. How she seemed always busy and only had patience and interest for your parents but also made you feel like an adult whenever she noticed you.

You hated all the mixed signals and shit she’s out you trough in so small amount of time.

You hated her.

-

[eye-in-hand]

Why I'm Converting to Judaism

I've posted this onto tumblr before on an old blog of mine, fuck if I remember what it was called but lmfao I'm sure some people have seen this before.

There are a lot of reasons why I'm converting to Judaism, but what I talk about in this is a large part of it, and a large part of a lot of healing I've had to do. Getting involved in the Jewish community (at the point of writing this, I had a bit, but was still too scared and admittedly triggered from past events I talk about in this to do so) has been really healing for me, and has made me feel validated and less alone in my experiences. And that's something I can never show enough thanks for.

Also at the time of writing this I didn't have my driver's license yet, but I do now, and that's helped with actually being able to be in a physical Jewish space so that's been nice.

Because it involves (CW:) violent antisemitism and rape, I'll put it under the cut. This was written partly around June/July 2023 and then a couple days after 10/7.

For the last few years I've been seriously considering and researching into converting to Judaism. It's been a little difficult because I live in the middle of fucking nowhere northern Midwest and the closest Jewish community to me is small and an hour away (and I can not drive), but I've been talking with their rabbi for the past few years. Admittedly on and off because I've been ahhhh terrified lmfao for many different reasons (mainly it brings up trauma I've dealt with that I get into that below) but recent events have... really made it clear where I want to stand in this world, and who my heart yearns for the most.

Some back story:

There's a lot that has happened to me growing up involving the idea of Jewish Identity, who is and isn't Jewish—but there are a few major events that really stick out in my mind. The majority of my years in High School, I would often (and I mean, this happened regularly) be asked if I was Jewish, or told "you look Jewish" unsolicited, or asked "why do you [act Jewish]?" I have dark, curly hair, and other "typical Jewish features", or so I'm told. I had no idea if I was Jewish (ethnically anyways, I knew I wasn't religiously), and growing up as an undiagnosed autistic, I had no idea how to respond to these kinds of questions, or what to do about figuring that out, I had no fucking idea about anything. I don't even think I really understood what being Jewish meant. And when enough people ask you if you're X thing, you start to wonder if you are.

When asked, I had two answers: "I don't know, actually," or "why?" I never understood why it was only the Jewish kids being asked this, why was the question always "are you Jewish?" I never seemed to see other ethnicities being questioned (bare the biracial kids, they got asked this a lot too) and I went to a very diverse inner-city school. I knew Jewish kids and they were always asked and bothered the same way I was, sometimes at the same time. I showed interest in learning about Jewish culture and would talk about it at school, etc. Maybe these answers were the wrong ones. I'm autistic, I have no idea. Maybe I should have just said "no, I'm not." but my response was "I don't know, let me look into that," or "Why? Does it matter?" Because I genuinely meant those words.

To keep this short, I was bullied in school for "being Jewish", "looking Jewish", especially as if my dark, curly hair and nose were ugly and weird traits to either mock or touch without asking. Traits I tried to hide my whole life until recently as an adult I learned to appreciate them. I remember a specific incident where my 'best friend' was in a group project with other classmates and as the class was working on them, she came all the way across the room to me, and asked, "are you Jewish?" and I said, "why?"

"Oh because you look like a Greek Jew." Whatever that means.

All I responded with was a forced laugh and "does it matter if I was? Why is the question always about being Jewish?"

She went back to her group and for the rest of the class I was stared and laughed at. Very weird. Autism brain does not understand what is so fucking funny about it. There was another incident with her, or regularly honestly, and this group of people who would compare me to characters from media based on negative Jewish stereotypes and apparently it was just hilarious.

I always had to deal with holocaust jokes, Jew jokes, expected to laugh and go with it because it was just a crack at my appearance.

After high school, I moved towns, and — to keep this short and not too personal. I met a guy who took me in while I was vulnerable. Just became homeless, had no friends or places to go in a completely new town. Turns out, he's a neo-nazi, and I mean that literally. Not in the just a bigot oh he's a nazi, like — he was a proud "Odinist" body builder fuck head who was very proud of being Icelandic and German. The topic of Jewish people was one he brought up a lot, especially towards me. He asked me that same question, and I told him, "I don't know. I get asked that a lot."

I told him I was interested in celebrating Jewish holidays to learn more about Judaism. I'm angry at myself because I was barely 18, undiagnosed autistic, and he was much older than me, a local of the town and who I was depending on for a place to stay, for food. I barely knew what a pagan was, let alone what covert supremacy looked like.

I'm not exaggerating that this all still makes me shake, typing this is hard. I feel sick. He isolated me, kept me in his basement, "joked" about keeping "a Jew in his basement" and how "funny it would be to make that a dead Jew." He sexually abused me, beat me, choked and shook me, called me slurs, he'd talk on the phone when he thought I was asleep to his white supremacist friends about the "Jewish whore" he had. He wouldn't let me get a job, encouraged me to "act Jewish" in a fetishizing way. Told "edgy" jokes over, and over, and over and expected me to laugh with everything. It was all just a joke why are you upset it's funny, what's wrong with you, why are you such a bitch?

Later, when I got away from him (and homeless again in the process) I was in online "spiritual communities" and showed a picture of my face. I didn't realize how much the New Age community hates Jews and I was called a lot of things, especially when I told them that Jews aren't an alien race here to take over the world, or that hating Jewish people doesn't make you a fucking spiritually awakened guru. I was harassed in public for "being a Zionist (edit: yes, even in 2017)" even though I had never even mentioned an opinion on Israel, I never claimed to be Jewish, it was just assumed. My (platonic) partner's mother cried because "my daughter is running off w that k*** boy." I never told her I was Jewish, and neither did my partner. She saw me on Skype once. (Edit: My boyfriend's family are from Russia/Georgia and he's terrified to be seen with me near them and despite being interested in Judaism himself he's scared to go to the synagogue with me because of the possibility of them finding out. (Some of the fear is also because we're gay, but I'm well aware that it'd be even worse if they knew it was gay jews. And he's not scared for himself, he's scared for me.)

I got a DNA test a few years ago. I'm not Jewish. I don't know what happened to me. I don't understand this. Is this valid pain towards an identity I can't even claim? What do I even do with this? I wish I could talk to a Rabbi but I can't tell if I'm overstepping a boundary. A Rabbi's job is for the Jewish Community, they don't have time to hear my sob story about the antisemitism a Gentile faced. I can't just show up to the Jewish community and say "I get your struggles" because I don't. But I feel so alone.

I've stepped in and out of conversion, confused and unsure of who I am or who I want to be, what I believe, and how others see me. Angry at myself for how I handled these questions. Angry at myself for appropriating a struggle that isn't even mine to be struggling with. I'm so sorry.

When converting doesn't scare me, I just want to convert so that maybe the idea of being Jewish can be more than pain to me, and instead be something empowering. But I don't know anything right now or where I should go.

About a month or so ago, a couple coworkers of my partner started harassing us about me being Jewish, and I had directly told them multiple times, that I am not Jewish. I had even dropped the idea of converting because I was too scared of all this past hurt and didn't want to be alone to deal with it anymore, and too scared to talk to the Rabbi for fear of bothering him. But they threatened me, the only place I felt safe to hang out was around my partner's work and that place is no longer safe for me because of these people. I don't know them, and I don't want to know what they're capable of or rather who they know around here, because they're Qanon supporters of the men that tried to kidnap the governor and supporters of Jan 6, trumpy fucking dickheads. I live in a small, incredibly Christian town, I didn't fucking need this shit again.

It really triggered me because I didn't even have the excuse of "well it's my fault, I didn't say I wasn't Jewish" this time. I told them I wasn't but they think I'm hiding some "dark Jew secret" and I "cursed them" because their lives are going to shit.

Then all of this in Israel happened, and it hurt so much. That was the first weekend I had done Shabbat in a year or so, and for the first time it felt so right. It felt like what I should be doing. Then I logged back online, saw what had happened and for the Jewish community around the world it was one of pain. I called my Rabbi this past week after several months of silence on my end, and told him to let me know if there was anything I could do. He was glad to hear from me, and I'm sorry that I kept disappearing.

My point is, I'm converting because no matter what I say or tell people, this will always keep happening, I will never be safe and I don't want to face it alone, I want to hopefully connect with the community (daunting because ahh I'm autistic so I am. Not good at connecting with other people very well), do what I can. I had read about Jewishness being "sharing the fate of the Jewish people" and I believe that I do, it's been proven time and time again no matter what I say or do.

Anyways that's what's been on my mind. I hope this doesn't come off trying to make this tragedy about me, I'm not good at tone and I'm sorry. I'm bringing this up now because this really... marks the time for me to take this seriously, and I never want to shut the door on this again. I need to be there for the Jewish people in times like this because I've felt what that feels like, even if I don't really understand why.

[power-chords]

A rough translation, which I had to tinker with somewhat, but nevertheless:

The last of this clan, my aunt Martha, who went to Assenheim to fetch bread on the day she left, also perished in Minsk with her husband Moritz Adler and their young son. The names of the whole family are engraved on the memorial wall in Frankfurt's Jewish Museum.

But not Martin. Like his father Max, a front-line fighter in the First World War, captain of the Friedberg soccer team (the Jewish team) in the 1920s, he was a short, stocky, brash “tough guy.” He beat me up often enough, just messing around, when he visited us in Griesheim, but I always enjoyed seeing him and visiting the family in Frankfurt just as much. We did this often, even though Aunt Ida was a real obsessive when it came to cleaning and tidying. She would have been a good Japanese housewife; she always liked to take off our shoes before we stepped onto her polished floors.

One day in 1938, when things were getting worse, there was an unpleasant incident outside her apartment. A group of Hitler Youth attacked Martin's brother Alfred at the front door and beat him up.

The shouting drew Martin, who was just 14 years old at the time, to the window. He grabbed a kitchen knife, jumped out of the window, ran towards the mob and struck at them with his fist and knife. After the HJ punks had run off with a few stab wounds, all hell broke loose. His father just managed to get home to take Martin away before the police arrived. A friend took him by motorcycle to Nathan and Frieda in Kaiserslautern, and from there to a hiding place. I always thought it was my father who managed this, but he later denied it to me, so it was someone else after all.

Max had to go to the Gestapo for a tough interrogation, but apparently he was able to stick to his claim that the boy had simply run away; at least he was released after a while. The family, I think with the involvement of my father, managed to introduce Martin to an American Quaker whose group was organizing a ship transport for Jewish orphans to America. They provided him with forged papers — whose statements later became all too true, of course — and brought him by ship to the USA, where he arrived a few weeks before my father and was entrusted to a Jewish family in Brooklyn.

There he went to “high school,” joined the US Army at 18 in 1942, married Doris Kimmel from Brooklyn at 19, took part in the invasion in June 1944 in Patton's Third Army, Fourth Armored Division (as a Jeep messenger between shot-up tanks on the battlefield — not a pleasant job, as he assured me afterwards), took part in the liberation of Ders, passed through Frankfurt in the final battle in April 1945, and ended his army career as mayor of Pilsen, a post he held for a week thanks to his knowledge of German, before the Americans were withdrawn to the other side of the Elbe. Then the hard years began, until he found good work as a skilled carpenter in New Haven, Connecticut, and settled there, where he died in 1983. His two sons Barry and Michael are splendid fellows, one the head of special education in the state of Connecticut, the other a lawyer in New York; they in turn have four children; they are — unlike the three of us — still practicing Jews, and so this branch of the family continues to exist.

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

Hi 🍋

I know you're busy with your rewatch but I was wondering cause I miss your rec lists: do you have a rec list for fics that heavily feature the 126's different religions? Them celebrating different holidays or discussing stuff or such?

Would love to see such a list, I feel like the fandom should have a general list where these fics are featured 💙

Hi anon!! Thank you so much for this lovely ask! Perfect timing, actually, because the fic I’m writing now, which I’ve affectionately been calling Eid Fic, centers around Marjan’s relationship with her faith and her family. It will heavily feature Marjan & TK discussing their own faiths, and sharing memories of holidays, fasting and family. And also how they grow together over the years and form their own found family.

I’m sorry my rec lists have fallen to the side lately! You are not the only person who’s asked me about them, and I promise they’re coming back! I’ve just been feeling a little overwhelmed lately (can you just be whelmed?). But I love any excuse to rec some of the amazing fics in this fandom. And this theme in particular is really exciting to me because we don’t have nearly enough of it! I have scoured by memory and my bookmarks for you, and here’s what I’ve found. Unsurprisingly, it mostly focuses on Carlos and TK’s faiths.

Disclaimer: this is by no means a comprehensive list, it is just what I remembered and what I found. If you know of other fics that feature religion, especially other characters, please reply/reblog with the links!

Carlos - Catholicism

The Line I'd Walk (For You) by TearsThisSideofHeaven Carlos lights a candle and says a prayer to St. Florian, the patron saint of firefighters when TK returns to work after being shot. TK asks him where he goes, so Carlos brings him to church one morning.

What is Sown, What is Grown by @never-blooms Carlos character study, beautiful glimpse into Carlos’s experience growing up Tejano and how his family shaped him.

I Swear I Love You (Te Juro Que Te Amo) by @never-blooms Nochebuena fic!! Beth gives us a really beautiful look at Nochebuena, which is the Christmas Eve holiday in Latinx cultures! This fic is full of everything you would expect from a good Nochebuena party: family, nosy siblings and aunties, chisme, delicious food and so much music.

to build a home by @freneticfloetry Carlos Begins, this fic follows Carlos from childhood through present day. Courtney gives us a lot of beautiful insight into Carlos’s background and culture, and there is some exploration of religious aspects especially in the last chapter.

And if you will allow a couple from me 🤭

I'm Not A Fortress, But I Will Try To Protect You TK & Marjan get together for pie after Marj breaks up with Salim and before TK goes back to Carlos. Marjan voices her fear of disappointing her parents with the news of the breakup, and TK offers to be there for her when she makes the phone call. Marjan also gives TK some perspective on what it was probably like for Carlos growing up in a conservative religious home.

The Greatest Gift I’ve Found, The Sweetest Thing I’ve Known My Nochebuena fic!! It’s got some holiday traditions and a lot of family love.

TK - Judaism

knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door by rakketyrivertam Five prayers TK sang for other people, and one he sang for himself

a case of cruel to be kind by @maxbegone This is a really lovely AU based on the movie About Time. The plot is that TK discovers he can travel back in time to events in his past, and that he inherited the gift from Gwyn. But at the heart of the story is a really beautiful examination of Gwyn and TK’s relationship. This includes a look at some traditional Jewish funeral and grieving practices, through the eyes of TK after Gwyn’s passing.

The last day of Hanukkah by @ladytessa74 A very sweet little Hanukkah fic set in Tessa’s Elijah verse, in the future where Tarlos has a four-year-old named Elijah. This story gives us a glimpse of Hanukkah in the Strand-Reyes house, the little traditions and the food.

Looking at it now, it all seems so simple by @liminalmemories21 Enzo and Jonah come to town, set between seasons 3 & 4 (though S4 kinda makes it an AU now 😖). Explores TK’s relationship with his faith through Carlos’s eyes, they celebrate Hanukkah and have a Shabbos dinner, and there are a few conversations about what parts of their own cultures and religions they want to bring into the family they’re forming, and how they want to raise any future kids.

Rosa Mundi by fiddlersgreen TK, Carlos and Owen go to New York for Gwyneth's funeral. I must admit it’s been a minute since I read this, but this author gives a really lovely perspective of what Gwyn’s funeral might have been like with the Jewish traditions and customs.

[adarkrainbow]

Did you know that, after World War II, the Grimm fairytales could have been banned forever?

I am asking this question because I wanted to do some sort of closing post on the "Hansel and Gretel is antisemitic" question, while also bringing a point that I haven't seen brought up too often.

I saw a lot of people repeat around Tumblr, reblog across accounts and sheeply rewrite again and again that "Hansel and Gretel" was an antisemitic tale - sometimes they couldn't even bring an explanation as to why, and just said "X person said it, so that must be true". If you ask me, my answer is "No, Hansel and Gretel is not an antisemitic story", and I made several posts trying to explain why there's no antisemitism in there, just folkloric motifs and fears born of the witch-hunts. No, Hansel and Gretel is not antisemitic. But it isn't because my answer is "No" and because the fairytale isn't antisemitic that it can't be MADE antisemitic. And this is a very important point that I think can't be stressed enough.

You already saw how easily people could be convinced that the story is antisemitic given the wave on Tumblr of people who decried tit as such - notably by assimilating the witch trying to eat the children with the "blood label" antisemitic beliefs. A look at the text, at fairytales of the same nature, at the origins of such a story, can easily disprove such a reading. The witch fattens up children and eat them - there is no mention of blood, or of using said blood for occult or religious rituals. It's just good ol' cannibalism and a Sweeney Todd-flavored story. (That's actually the reverse, since the Sweeney Todd legend ended up influenced by the Hansel and Gretel fairytale, thanks to the musical, but I digress). And similarly people point out that the witch is a "Jewish caricature", invoking common witch traits in popular folklore such as a hooked nose - but the witch in the story doesn't have a hooked nose or any trait usually used to caricature Jews. She is just an old woman with red eyes walking on crutches, and that's it, nothing about any other particularity. Old + red eyes + crutches and that's it. So no, Hansel and Gretel is not antisemitic in itself, didn't start as an antisemitic tale, was not formulated as such when the brothers Grimm noted it down.

However, as I said, it doesn't mean the story cannot be "infested" by antisemitic elements a posteriori. Two points:

Point 1. There is a legitimate doubt to have when it comes to antisemitism in the Grimm fairytales, as in, it is legitimate to start wonderng "Maybe it isn't an innocent tale and maybe there's antisemitic elements in there". Because the Brothers Grimm did collect antisemitic stories among their numerous traditional fairytales - such as the infamous "The Jew in the Thorns" story. Not only were these stories collected in the 19th century, a time where racism and discriminations of all kinds were much more widespread and accepted than today, but antisemitism was a particularly strong German tradition for a long time. You could say it was the dark side of Jewish culture - and while it was everywhere in Europe, it was especially present in Germany. The fact the ones who orchestrated the greatest Jewish genocide in history were German is no coincidence.

However there is a difference between having a legitimate suspicion and just forcing onto a story a reading that is clearly grasping at the last straw, so to speak. For example, while it is understandable some people would think of Hansel and Gretel as antisemitic, it doesn't mean one shouldn't look at the text and the story and realize that it isn't antisemitic at all. It is especially important because by focusing on stories wrongly accused of antisemitism, one could pass by or hide the ACTUAL antisemitic tales of the Grimm that must be recognized and identified as such (again, The Jew among the Thorns is the most famous example).

But here is my point 2, which is the most important one and the entire reason this post was made. It is also important to recognize when someone is enforcing antisemitism in a story that wasn't antisemitic to begin with - it is important to know when someone warps a tale to fit their own ideologies or hatred. And I am not speaking about the Tumblr-folks here - but about the Nazis.

Yes the freacking Nazis. They're really to blame for everything. You see, this is the root of my original question, the opening line. Why did people consider maybe banning forever the Grimm fairytales after World War II? Because of the Nazis! One of the numerous scars the Nazis left on Germany was one upon German culture, since Hitler and his minions worked intensely on taking part some of the greatest pieces of German culture and twisted, reused them for their own sick purposes. Wagner's operas, for example, were forever soiled by the fact that it was Hitler's favorite pieces of music.

And the brothers Grimm fairytales did not escape the Nazi filfth. The Grimm fairytales were the emblematic folktales of Germany, collected by German nationalists, in their effort to rebuild a purely German culture after the foreign invasions of Napoleonian France. Of coursemad and fanatic fascists like the Nazis would reuse them! And they did, oh yes. They did some despicable use of the Grimm fairytales in their propaganda, and teaching programs. And no doubt, not only did they resurrect actual antisemitic tales in the brothers' book, but they certainly also added numerous antisemitic meanings which weren't there before.

If you ask me "Is Hansel and Gretel an inherently antisemitic fairytale, or was conceived as such?" I would answer you: no. If you ask me, "Did Hansel and Gretel become antisemitic during World War II", I would answer you: "Probably, yes". There is little doubt that the Nazis wouldn't have used the tale as anti-Jewish propaganda and depicted the wicked witch (and the wicked stepmother) as Jewish. The only reason I do not say a full and firm yes is because I do not have textual evidence of them using THIS specific fairytales - but it is attested they used the brothers Grimm work as a whole in their insane war crimes.

Which led to the serious question of what to do with these stories, once the war was over. Should Germany stop using them as childhood literature, remove them from their list of great cultural works? Or should they be kept, but by removing all the Nazis had done to them and trying to focus on the most non-antisemitic-parts? You can tell today the solution taken was the second.

And so this would be my last important message about this subject. Why is it important to know that Hansel and Gretel isn't antisemitic? To be able to denounce and decry those that want to make it antisemitic. To prevent antisemites from using it as some sort of cultural weapon. And this is true for ALL fairytales.

Fairytales are unfortunately all inherently racist or discriminatory at one point or another, because they come from a much older and different time. The Pentamerone is filled with racist stories. Madame d'Aulnoy's stories have some casual racism. Some Grimm stories are antisemitic. These are facts that cannot be ignored and have to be dealt with. But it is important to recognize the parts of these tales that DID NOT have racist elements to them, and to also recognize the racist parts for what they were, so that we can move forward by protecting them from any misuse or to prevent their use by the wrong people. Sometimes it isn't about "cancelling" stories - sometimes it is about making sure they cannot end up in the hands of those we fight, or denouncing how they read a tale that does not actually exist except in their mind.

[aswallowimprisoned]

Restless far from a Wine Dark sea - Stabbed - in 1713!

My merfolk are semi-immortal creatures, and Nathaniel is old enough to have been stabbed a couple of times at this point.

A night out with his pirate captain has gone awry, and Nathaniel finds himself a little more stabbed than is ideal. This one follows the last time the merman started drowning in his own blood (as alluded to in Fuckin oops).

For @medwhumpmay

Tw Punctured lung, old fashioned surgery, Dead Dove Jewish vampiric whumpee, cauterisation, alcohol, almost NSFW Spicey flirting, vampires, serious injury, fantasy drugs

This is not historically accurate

masterlist

≪ °❈° ≫

Kim was surprised the captain and her merman had managed to make it back to the ship.

Leaning heavily on each other, it took a while for Kim to even recognise them. He and the first mate had swooped down to help them on board as soon as they had recognised the bloody figures. They had carried the Captain up into her quarters. The merman had required a significant amount of coaxing, which was resonable considering the last time he had been on the ship it was as their captive.  

As soon as he was on the ship, the merman wanted off it. And it turned out he had a knife sticking right out of his rib cage. 

“Stay away from me” Nathaniel murmured. His lips were stained red.

“Mate, if you pull that knife out of your chest without a backup plan you are going to bleed out pretty fast,” Kim took another step towards the merman, “You can barely undo your shoe laces.”

“Last time I was here you trapped me in a bathtub to sell me on the medicine market.”

“But you managed to escape, and now you are fucking the cap. Didn’t turn out too bad, right?” Kim reasoned with his usual flippancy, “Now, I just want to help you to not die a bloody mess on our deck.”

“Stretcher” the First Mate announced her presence, “ And the captain is going to be fine; she has a broken arm and is sleeping off the vampire bite. Apparently vampire venom is much more unpleasant than mer venom.”

“Hear that Nathaniel? The captain is all sorted out, and she will be very upset if you die before she wakes up…” Kim started moving closer to the merman.

“Careful kim. Injured wild animals and all.” The First Mate muttered.

“It’s ok Nathaniel,” Kim kept his voice soothing and steady, “You are the captain's man. We wouldn’t hurt you.”

Kim inched closer, before reaching out to grab the lapels of Nathaniel’s overcoat and half lifting the man off the bannister. Nathaniel gave a weak kick in response, but whether it was an attempt to help or hinder his passage to the stretcher was unclear.

Now he was lying down, Kim could hear just how laboured the merman’s breathing was. Nathaniel turned his head to cough again, and red splattered the canvas of the stretcher.

“We will take you to Doctor Max, and he will fix you up good as new.” Kim reassured, though he doubted the merman would last much longer, “Just stay with us a wee while.”

They carried him into the bowels of the ship, and Nathaniel closed his eyes as the sky was replaced with wooden panelling.

“Not…again…” 

-8888-

Max took one look at the blade in the merman's chest before starting to give orders.

“Kim, keep pressure on that stab wound, like that…” Max positioned Kim's hands with swift precision, “Sabrina, fire up the brazier.”

The merman stared sightlessly at the ceiling, blinking slowly as the pirates moved around him. Max took out his knives and bandages, placing them on the low table by Nathaniel’s head.

“How's that fire going Sabrina?” Max asked.

“Nearly there.” The First Mate pumped the bellows, and sparks flew brightly.

“Just get the dagger out of me. Please.” Nathaniel rasped.

“Not yet.” Max laid an apologetic hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder, “I can’t just pull it out. The blade is too deep, so I have to cauterise the wound or you will just keep bleeding.”

“Cauterise?”

“Burning the flesh to prevent bleeding.”

“Przyżegać.” Nathaniel breathed apprehensively, “O kurwa.”

Max grabbed a bottle of rum from the cupboard above his bed

“Drink this,” he held the bottle to the mermans lips, “it will help with the pain.”

He tipped some of the liquid into Nathaniel’s mouth, but the merman choked, the mouthful of fluid coming back up laced with red. 

“Try again?” he asked, and the merman nodded slightly. He managed five gulps before refusing the bottle.

“Kim, check the brazier.” Kim carefully took his hands away from Nathaniel's chest, and they came away slathered in crimson blood. Max took his place, properly examining the stab for the first time. Taking scissors, he cut away the shirt around the wound, and Nathaniel hissed in pain. The material of his shirt had got caught in the cut, which had fortunately stemmed much of the blood flow, but had also masked the extent of the injury. Max put his head to the mermans chest, and could hear the tell-tale gurgle of internal bleeding upon every breath the merman took. 

Max put a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder, and the merman tilted his face to look at him.

“You're not looking too good I am afraid,” His tone was solemn, “Now, I can take the blade out and try to cauterise the wound but your lung will most likely collapse, and it is going to be incredibly painful.” He took a deep breath, “Alternatively, I can give you last rites and more rum to dull the pain. We can also return your body to the sea if that is what you want.”

“Try,” Nathaniel’s voice was a rasp, “Please.”

 “Understood.”

Nathaniel stuck his wrist in his mouth, his face clearinging somewhat as he dulled the pain with his own venom.

“Ok, nearly ready.” Max gave the poker a last turn, “Sabrina, I need you to sit on his legs and put your full weight onto his hips to keep him from moving. Kim, you at his shoulders. I have a feeling he is going to be stronger than he looks.”

Kim held out the bite rag, but the merman turned his face away.

“You are going to want this mate. Keep you from damaging your vocal cords.”

Nathaniel’s breath hitched, and he coughed out a wad of blood.

“Sh'ma Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Ecḥad” He whispered, then opened his mouth to accept the rag, carefully tucking it behind his fangs. Max’s eyebrow raised in surprise at the recitation of the Jewish prayer. 

Kim took a hold of his shoulders, effectively pinning the merman to the table, and Nathaniel’s breathing became erratic with anxiety as he was trapped beneath the weight of the two pirates. 

“Ready?”

Max pulled the knife out with a single movement, and Nathaniel tried to buck, screaming into the gag. Max worked swiftly, pulling the remainder of the mermans shirt out of the wound and dousing it in cheap rum.

With a sickening gurgle, Nathaniel passed out.

“Check his pulse Kim” Max ordered, focusing on cleaning the wound.

“He’s just unconscious, but, Max… he’s got gills.”

Max glanced over, and the merman had indeed sprouted gills on his right side. 

“Shit. His lung has collapsed” Max grabbed a thin metal tube from his small table, “Sabrina get off and drag him to the edge of the table. Kim, take the bite rag out to clear his airways.” Kim carefully extracted the blood splattered rag from Nathaniel’s slack lips, and the man coughed again, slowly drowning as his lungs filled with blood.

Max slammed the metal tube into his side, and blood spewed from the end, splattering onto the floor. It quickly reduced to only dribbles, and Nathaniel’s gills retracted as his lung reinflated. Max breathed a sigh of relief.

“Cool.” Kim breathed.

“Still need to cauterise the wound. Glad he has passed out cos this is going to hurt like a bitch...” 

8888

Nathaniel did not come round again until the final bandage had been wrapped around his midriff and Max had moved onto sewing up the ripped vampire bite on his shoulder. How the merman and the captain had got home Max had no idea.

The merman groaned as his eyes fluttered open.

“You’re still alive merbeast.”

Nathaniel flexed his fingers, before looking up to the ceiling and muttering a quick prayer, while Max finished his stitching and tied a quick knot.

“Can I have some more rum please?” Nathaniel asked, his voice husky. Max poured a mug of water, then added a shot of rum.

“Here.” Max propped him up a bit, and passed him the mug, “Grog. Water is important.” 

Nathaniel drank deeply, then rested the mug on his chest. 

“Where’s the captain?” 

“Kim took her to her quarters. She is just sleeping off the vampire bite.” Max resumed his checking over of the merman’s body. “Apparently it is not as much fun as mer venom. She was quite disappointed.” He gently probed Nathaniel’s wrist, “Why are you turning purple?”

Nathaniel looked down wearily.

“Too much blood loss. I need to go.” He tried to sit up, but his eyes went distant for a moment and he dropped back to the table.

“You are in no fit state to go anywhere. Take a nap, and we will sling you back in the sea as soon as you can sit up without passing out.”

Nathaniel panted for a few moments before replying.

“I need to… replace the blood… that I lost… so…” He took a deep breath and tried to still his shaking hands, “I need to go.” 

“Ok.” Max’s tone was considering, “Ok. Can I like, put some in a cup and give it to you? Or use a leech? Do you think you can wait till morning when the captain wakes up?”

“No, and no.” He was slurring a bit. The purple had advanced up to his elbow and was snaking across his torso. “And I need to go soon, because this is happening really fast.” There was a slight hiccup in his voice. Max had seen many men afraid to die. It seemed that centuries old sea monsters were no different in that regard.

The door to Max’s room opened quietly, and Kim popped his head round.

“Captain is settled. Sabriana’s keeping an eye on her,” He sidled into the room, “Good to see you awake already merbeast. I thought you were a goner there.”

Nathaniel screwed his eyes shut.

“Kim. Just in time.” Max wiped his bloody hands on a damp rag, “I was just about to give Nathaniel some blood, and would really like someone to make sure I don’t pass out.”

“What?! No! you can't do that Max!” Kim protested.

“Yeah, well,” Max cut him off, “He is going to die if I don’t, and I think I did a pretty good job stitching his lungs back into him, so it seems a shame for something small like starvation to kill him.” He threw the rag down, “Besides, he is good friends with the captain, and never killed her right?”

“Still no! You have got to look after the captain and him, and you can't do that when you are high as shit on mer venom.” Kim held his hand over his heart as if hurt, “And you know that getting high as shit on stupid things is my forte.” He gave Max a shit-eating grin, “Just tell me what to do.”

Max looked down at the sea monster on the table. He’d gone kind of floppy, and his expression was glazed over.

“Fine. But tell me what it feels like cos I want to record it.”

“Hey.” Max patted the merman’s cheek, “Wake up. You can bite Kim. What do we do?”

“Wrist, please.” Nathaniel rasped. Max manoeuvred Kim so that his wrist would be comfortably angled. 

“Ok. If Kim faints, I am calling this off though.”

“I understand. Venom is strong. Look out.” 

“Aww yiss.” Kim grinned like a teenage idiot, “I can handle strong merbeast. Bite away.” He pressed his wrist to Nathaniel’s mouth. The seamonster bit him.

“Ow.” Kim scowled, then his face brightened, “Actually, that feels pretty nice actually…really nice.” Kim sighed, “Kinda tingly, like being drunk, but only really fast, and everything is all warm and nice and mmmmm…” he trailed off to close his eyes with a dopey smile. 

“Sounds like it hit pretty fast.”

“You have no idea Maxie,” Kim hummed happily to himself, and Max watched him carefully. He wasn’t swaying, but the venom was clearly a euphoric… The sea monster's Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and Max wondered how fast the blood was actually being drained. He could hear a soft sucking noise, and the breath, stronger now, rushing against Kim’s skin. He shivered.

Kim however, was oblivious to the creepiness, and seemed to be quite enjoying himself.

“You still feeling alright Kim? No dizziness of feeling sick?”

“No sick, just yummy yummy dizziness” Kim grinned, “like all the best narchotics or whatever it is you educated people call them,” He looked down at the seamonster, “I can see why the captain likes fucking him. I would pay to be in his mouth too…”

Max’s eyes flew wide open, and he glanced down to see the mermans reaction. There was none. Not that Max should really be worried about homophobic judgement from a literally inhuman monster. 

“Kim, don’t say that.” He grimaced. 

“Sorry sweeeety” Kim gave a flirtatious grin, “You are still my beau.” He leaned forward and planted a sloppy kiss on the corner of Max’s mouth. 

Nathaniel finally moved, eyes opening to glowing cerulean slits as he unhooked his teeth from Kim’s wrist.

“Thank you.” He murmured, and his head lolled sideways as he fell asleep.

“Thank YOU mate. That was awesome, "Kim slurred. 

Max pulled him away from the merman, manoeuvring him onto the bed behind them. 

“Sit” he ordered.

“Mmm doctor roleplay. My favourite.”

Max ignored him, pulling his arm up to the light. The bite marks were gone, the slightest smear of red the only sign that he had ever been bitten. That healing saliva was something else. He placed his fingers over Kim’s wrist, checking his pulse. Normal. Normal that is till Kim wound his other hand round to grab Max’s ass. Then it jumped right up.

“Anything else you want to examine, doctor” He drawled.

Max pushed him away lightly.

“I forgot that excessive hornyness is a side effect of mer venom” Max stepped back, 

“Maybe saving the life of a sea monster is just the thing that really gets me going.” Kim grinned. Max shook his head ruefully, and took off his blood spattered apron. Behind him he heard the clank of Kim undoing his belt. 

“You should record that that venom is making it very uncomfortable to keep these trousers on. I think your patient should take his pants off.”

Max lifted Nathaniel's wrist, checking his pulse to make very sure the merman was asleep. Sure enough, it was slow, but stronger than before, and lilac had ceased its crawl across his torso. But most importantly, not about to wake up any time soon. He downed a swig of rum.

“Uncomfortable you say? Well, as the ship's doctor, I will have to see what I can do about that…”

[foster-the-world]

Aw, man

Last night the district wide school board meeting turned into a debate about Israel. With some claiming the DOE is not doing "enough." Apparently enough means they haven't yet written a email condemning the kidnappings in Israel? With claims they would have already sent a letter if it was black people. I guess the district is waiting on a legal team to approve language. So it should go out today or tmrw. Not good enough for these people. I don't get it. The DOE did send a letter condemning racism and it doesn't do shit to protect my kids. We are still in the most segregated school system in the nation. I am 100% confident the man claiming they "would have already done it if it was black people." made sure his children were in the majority white schools. The anti-racism letter didn't change his desire to segregate his children so why would a anti-semitism letter help jewish students? Writing a letter condemning the kidnappings in Israel is not going to protect my kids one bit nor help the children who were kidnapped. Our district has migrant children pouring in every single week. Let's talk about how we can support them. Letter or no letter I do not care.

I left that meeting to go to our schools PTA meeting. We did spend a good amount of time talking about how we can help the new migrant children who started at our school last week. Apparently 1000 more children entered the district on Friday - set to start next week. My 2nd graders class got three more students last week. Rebel's 1st grade class got two more students. We've been working on our Spanish at home and making sure the girls include them. I'm so glad we are at a school where we teach the kids to welcome their new friends. I have no doubt the uniform, clothing, coat drive will be fully funded - even though we have a school full of low income parents who aren't exactly rolling in the dough.

This morning I'm talking to the Principal about the clothing/Halloween costume drive when she gets a text message and looks horrified. Apparently a lower grade kid told their teacher they can't be around them because they are Jewish and their Mom told them Jewish people are dangerous. So fucked up. Poor baby being taught that hate and poor teacher having to hear it from a student she pours her hard work into.

I'm not really worried about my girls hearing shitty things. As mentioned they are tough and can handle themselves. The toughness does mean they can be jerks but also means they wouldn't hesitate to fight back if someone says shit like that to them. People have said other shitty things to them and they returned with the 6yo version of "go fuck yourself" and were indignant more then hurt. *Obviously they didn't use the f word. They have a solid group of friends in their class who would know to defend them. Although we are going to have a talk about what to say if someone talks negatively about Juduism or if they hear someone say anything racist/prejudice/etc to themselves or any of their friends. We've had the general talk before but probably need to be more specific on the Jewish side of things. Every year my husband and I bring Hanukkah celebration stuff to their class. Everyone is always very receptive. Last year Bee's teacher was Jewish. They've generally had at least one jewish family in their class - although that dwindles in the older grades. We live two doors down from the JCC - so they go to classes there so do get to spend time around Jewish children regardless. This semester they are taking an art class there and we go to the shabbat dinners sometime.

Bee has a Ukrainian girl in her class - well her grandparents are from Ukraine. So Bee came home last year talking about how people are murdering babies "as soon as they come out" in the Ukrainian war. Now this year her little friend is from Israel - so she comes home with more horror stories he hears from home and interprets into six year old language. The world we are giving our children is not okay.

[pargolettasworld]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0RqzfbaLeMY

When you think of “Disaster Songs,” you probably think of songs about shipwrecks, logging or mining disasters, the stuff that Dr. Heather Sparling writes about.  Dr. Sparling focuses on the Atlantic maritime tradition of disaster songs, especially from Canada, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t disaster songs from elsewhere in the world.  Here’s one that talks about a disaster that I remember happening.  

For those of us old enough to remember, and for everyone else who watched the 2019 miniseries about it, Chernobyl is almost completely synonymous with “nuclear power plant meltdown.”  There is a bit more to Chernobyl than that of course -- there was at one point a flourishing Jewish community there, and a major Hasidic dynasty.  Not all Jews whose ancestors lived in Ukraine have ancestry in Chernobyl, but a lot do.  So when this song discusses the graves of our ancestors, now rendered inaccessible by radiation, that’s quite a lot of people involved.

Also, if you aren’t old enough to remember, or if you didn’t live in this particular region of the world . . . the line about being afraid to eat salad is pretty true.  My family happened to move to Germany for a year, and we arrived in maybe late August of 1986, about four months after the meltdown.  The radiation clouds had swept west from Ukraine (at that time, the Ukrainian SSR) right around the time that the spring rains were falling in Eastern and Central Europe.  People thought that the rain was contaminated, and it fell on the blossoms of fruit trees and on fields of vegetables that were just beginning to sprout.  This made a lot of people freak out about eating the fruits and vegetables that had been in bloom or sprouting under the potentially radioactive rain.

When we arrived at the house we’d rented for the year, we were thrilled to discover berry bushes and fruit trees in the back yard.  We couldn’t wait to eat currants and gooseberries and sour cherries, but our neighbors very sternly warned us not to eat anything that grew in that yard, because it would surely kill us.  (It didn’t; my mom ate some gooseberries before the neighbors warned her, and she just had her 76th birthday last week, so she’s fine.)  We left at the end of the year, but if my memories of those neighbors are accurate, I’m sure they didn’t eat their backyard fruit for a few more years after that.

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #36 - Rerun Monday #2

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction, posted daily. Since I want to start writing new chapters of Dominic of the Darkness as Brain Curds, here is the never-before-released second chapter. Please enjoy.

Dominic entered the throne room. He was used to seeing disturbing things in here, but this one took the cake. It was a BDSM session between a Jewish dominatrix and a Nazi, and it was clearly not done out of affection.

He waited by the side of the room, hoping it might end any minute, but the violence continued to escalate alongside the Prince of Darkness’ laughter. It went on for hours, maybe days (time was funky in Hell) until finally the dominatrix got bored and apparated back to Heaven. At least, Dominic figured that was where she was going.

The Nazi was removed from the room by four demons with five shovels, who exited in single file with their piles of undulating flesh. The man would have to reform in The Pit - as if today hadn’t already been bad enough for him.

Now, contrary to popular understanding, the Prince of Darkness did not go by the name ‘Satan’. It was a typographical error, caused by an ancient monk with dyslexia. No, the source of all evil was not known as ‘Satan’ down in the bowels of Hell, all the demons knew him by another name: Stan.

If you were wondering why he’s called the ‘Prince’ rather than the ‘King’, the answer to that is simple: he thought it made him sound younger.

Dominic approached his post in the throne room, as he did every day, on the high chair next to his father.

“Ah, my boy!” Stan said. “I didn’t see you there!”

“That was on purpose,” Dominic muttered, knowing his father was barely paying any attention.

“Take a seat! Another show is about to begin!” He turned his voice to the sycophants around him. “Get my son a plate, you jagoffs! He’s gotta be hungry by now!”

The demons scrambled to find a plate, but they were all dirty - not a problem for the average resident of Hell, but Dominic had higher standards. Most of Hell’s catering staff referred to him as “Princess Boy” as a sign of disrespect. He didn’t like it, but couldn’t come up with an adequate punishment. Eternal hellfire was too harsh, but probation felt like it would probably just encourage them.

A short, pinkish demon resentfully handed him a still-dripping plate. “Here you go, Princess Boy.”

Dominic pretended not to notice. In front of him and his father was a table covered in an absurdly massive spread that would have made Henry VIII blush - in fact, at times it had (his time in Hell made him much less plump). Despite Stan’s insistence, Dominic was not actually particularly hungry, and he couldn’t come up with a technique for getting the last scraps from the goat carcass anyway.

“Dad, about my birthday…”

“Birthday? Oh, for Pete’s sake! How old are you now?”

“Six-hundred and sixty-six.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“There’s no way you’re that old, son, I remember the night I knocked up your mother like it was last Tuesday.”

“Technically, it was, since you declared Tuesdays illegal that weekend.”

“Now how would you know that if you weren’t born yet?”

“I read books, Dad.”

“Whatever. What do you want?”

“I want my overnight pass for Earth.”

“What the heck do you need that for?”

“It’s tradition, isn’t it? For me to go live on the surface and see what life is like?”

“You’ve been up there before. What’s so special about it? Anything you can get up there, I can get for you down here. The demons can make anything!”

“Dad…”

“I’ll even ask them not to spit in it! They’ll still spit in it a little, but you won’t even taste it!”

“I need to spread my fallen angel wings,” Dominic replied, standing his ground (metaphorically, because as you may recall, he sat down just a moment ago). “Don’t make this difficult.”

“Alright, well… if you’re going up there, you should probably know something. Your mother was a living human…”

“Right, yeah, I know.”

“… And she’s still alive.”

Dominic was in shock. “You said she was in a better place!”

“Every living person is, Dominic, we’re in Hell. Plus, I’m a liar.”

“What exactly am I supposed to do with this information?”

“I don’t know, what am I, a librarian? Go find her, or don’t, or whatever. It’s your age to come-of. Now let’s eat already.”

[batboyblog]

Hello! You may not remember me, but I am the anon from a whiile ago, who found out about their grandma being Jewish, and who you were really nice to (and had a pretty big impact on how they're going with it). I don't know why, and it may be a lil creepy to keep doing this, but I thought I'd give you this update, because you're genuinely really nice!

So here it is, update 4 or 5 from a complete stranger to you: I am kind of considering starting a conversion journey. A little impetuously, one might argue (I would also argue). But here's how it's going, since I told you about this in February and we only found out in December:

Grandma, who is probably in her early 90s (we can't be sure since neither her or her siblings had documents of the year she was born), has decided to live 'her precious last years' (said in quotations because these are not her last years, as she like all grandmas will live to her hundreds) like herself. This includes being an unapologetically grumpy old lady who refuses her hearing aids and practicing judaism. She started kind of going to the Synagogue since January this year, but from my aunt's birthday on the 18th of February she's gotten a lot more religious, attending service every week, keeping in close contact with her Rabbi. We've offered to her to change her last name, that she got from my grandfather, back to the one she and her siblings shared, Kalinowksi. She said it was a waste of time, which fair enough, but apart from this my aunts are not really sure what to grasp with this suddenly pious old woman, and since I'm the family member closest to her it's up to me to accompany her when she leaves the house, including to shabbos service every saturday morning. I don't mind, and at her encouragement Ive started kind of observing shabbos with her. In the beginning I felt... weird, a little fake, like I do when I go into the Synagogue, but it just naturally started becoming more natural. Even when I'm not home, and thus am not eating mostly kosher like we do since recently, I still kind of find myself keeping to myself. Last sunday I absent mindedly recited to myself the prayer we do before eating when eating lunch at work, and even in broken hebrew (because i only know it from ear) it felt right?. It's just, the little things, you know? I love my grandma to pieces, she's been my best friend since I was a kid and she'd arrange my toys in fun scenes as a surprise from when I got back from school. Seeing her living as she pleases now is the happiest Ive ever seen her. I'm so happy to be here to see this. And slowly the things I was doing just to appease her, to keep by her, are starting to touch me in very like, weird ways. It's like this weird feeling of 'oh obviously. this is what i should have been doing!" it's peaceful. it's like something i never knew i wanted. and it's so weird.

Last month for Yom HaShoah we went to a service together. I took the day off from school to stay with her, and it was a very emotional moment. It felt like only the two of us when we talked. Later that week, my city's Holocaust Remembrance Museum held an event about the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, and I attended reluctantly. It was my first time going to a Jewish space without grandma as a cover, and I was fully expecting to feel like an intruder, or an imposter (the event was not exclusive to Jewish people!!! If it were I would not have gone), but to my utmost surprise I didn't. I felt all the emotions, of course. The Warsaw Ghetto story is not one you can hear without emotion. But I didn't feel like I shouldn't be there. At the end, the museum guide concluded talking about the relation Jewish culture has with spaces of memory, and it fucking hit me so hard. I'm a Museum Studies/Museology student, for context, and everything he said about Museums and spaces dedicated to remembering was like a fish line straight to what I felt about my career of choice. Things I didn't even know I thought.

So that's around the time it really started to build within me the idea of considering starting a conversion journey. I feel so weirdly connected to all these little parts of Jewish culture and faith and life that I don't know what to do to myself. I want to live in this beautiful way not just as my grandma's granddaughter (although I am and will always be honored to be just that) but as myself. Like for real. And I know conversion to Judaism is a deep, complicated, strenuous process, and with absolute good reason, but I also feel like I can't start it soon enough. I will of course give it time, I want to make sure I'm doing this in the long haul and for the right reasons, and in the meantime there is so much to study and learn - just a few thusand years to catch on - before I can even look in the face of a Rabbi and call myself a Conversion candidate. But I want to get there, I think.

So this is the update! Sorry again to keep coming back to you, and thank you for listening. I also thought I should introduce myself properly - I'm Laura! Thank you again <3

First off of course I remember! This story is one of my all time favorite things that has ever ever happened because of having this silly little Tumblr.

secondly! no one, NO ONE should feel bad about dropping into my ask box and telling me a story, I love it, wish people would do it more often.

Your grandma reminds me of my grandma (Z"L) she grumpily refused to get hearing aids at all insisting she'd be dead soon so why bother, it was like 10-15 years of basically yelling, her house shook when she watched TV. Oh also your joke about Grandmas living into their hundreds, Jewish tradition, since its maybe rude to ask someone's age and in the Yiddish world view to ask such things is to invite trouble and misfortune (Eastern European Jewry pessimistic? nooooo) you would say "How old are you? till 120" or "how old is he? may he live to 120" 120 being the maximum age set in the Torah for the human life (some early figures are said to have lived for hundreds of years but God slowly flexed us down to the standard ages we have now) so "may you live to 120" And may your grandma live to 120

Any ways I can't tell you how much it warms my heart to hear about your grandma reconnecting with her religion and culture. It really makes me tear up thinking all the miles and years she's traveled to get back home again. If I might meddle in your life I would encourage you to push your mom and aunts to come to Synagogue with your grandma. It's such an important part of her life now but also a core part of her story and who she is, I think in years to come having been able to share that with her will be a comfort. Likewise shabbos, is traditionally celebrated by a meal to welcome it, and a blessing done by the woman of the house, I wonder since your grandma missed out on years of making Shabbat meals and lighting the candles for her family it might be nice for her to do at least once for all her children with someone else doing the cooking of course, you had mentioned trying your hand at challah, Cholent (stew) and brisket are the other traditional dishes.

Also I'm very happy you're connecting to it as well, Judaism is a very mindful Religion, there's a prayer and ritual for basically everything so if you want and you mean it you can turn daily life into a moving meditation on the divine. The sanctification of the mundane is Judaism's great gift. To say the same words in the same language and link yourself back through thousands of years to Bronze Age sheep herders and olive farmers and all the many many Jews in the times and spaces between is magical and does make something like eating a sandwich at your desk into something special.

Any ways I know just what you mean about memory and Judaism having such a space for it, I mean the whole religion is about story telling and memory, its even how we talk about the dead "may their memory be a blessing" its remembering that is the blessing, and many of the holidays are about remembering. And how even if we weren't there, we were there.

On the conversation path of course take your own time, and for sure be sure you want it forever. But I'd also say your grandma sounds like she's close with her Rabbi who I'm guessing also knows you since you always go with her. So there's no harm in having an informal chat with him about it, likely he might have questions that might help you more clearly articulate what you want or be able to point you to books or other resources that can help shape this. I don't think you need to be fully ready to start the path and assembly a beit din to start asking questions of "where do I start?" and "is this even right for me?"

finally I guess thank you for this wonderful update, and very nice to meet you Laura, I'm Max

PS I wonder how Passover went? did your Grandma go full Kosher for Passover? that can be quite the production, also matzah can be un... and experience for the new comer so I hope you didn't mind it, also matzah pizza... idk

[orsonke]

if you’re hearing ARE YOU SATISFIED by MARINA playing, you have to know ORSON KE (HE/HIM; TRANSMASCULINE) is near by! the TWENTY TWO year old NHL PLAYER has been in denver for, like, NINE MONTHS. they’re known to be quite INTENSE, but being AMBITIOUS seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble CHELLA MAN. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those RESTLESS FINGERS, FEELING THE BASS IN YOUR CHEST, WELL WORN JERSEY/HOODIE COMBO vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the RIVER NORTH ARTS DISTRICT long enough! 

BASICS

full name: orson ryan ke

age: twenty two (born august nineteenth)

gender: transmasculine

pronouns: he/him

sexuality: gay

ethnicity: chinese, ashkenazi jewish

nationality: american

occupation: left wing for the colorado avalanches (nhl)

BACKGROUND

grew up in minneapolis to divorced parents, who were the most incompatible people ever, though it was only really started to show when they had orson. they disagreed heavily on how to raise a child, and ended up splitting when he was only three years old. his whole life was spent in two deeply different worlds.

his mother, a criminal lawyer, believes that "you don't need to be your child's friend," and so never attempted to connect with him really. she pushed him hard in school, sports, music, but never showed much care into who he was, or if he was okay, believing that you should never settle, always striving for more no matter the cost, and so ended up being very critical in everything, even the things he did well.

his father, on the other hand, had never been the driven sort, a trust fund baby who was perfectly content living on other people's coattails. he was more focused on his own life than really being involved in orson's. more casual friends than father and child, only showing a polite interest in what he was doing. when the going got tough, his father was more likely to leave him to figure it out for himself, if he even realized there was a problem at all.

it seemed that no matter what he did, he couldn't satisfy either of his parents, who both saw a reflection of the parent in him. seeking approval elsewhere, he started playing hockey when he was ten. it was a godsend, and not just because he was talented on the ice. a community of people who needed him. his parents didn't get, his father was never a sports guy, and his mom thought he didn't have the focus to commit to a sport.

orson has spent his entire career trying to win their approval, not that he's realized it. ever hungry for success, part of why he's become so good is that feeling that things he do are never good enough. he's always training, often at expense of any sort of social life.

this became clear during college. scouted by university of michigan, he spent his four years in college either training or studying (since his mom would never accept anything less than dean's list). when most people were discovering themselves, he was dedicating himself to his craft.

last summer he graduated, promptly joining the colorado avalanches. in a completely new place, with a completely different team, orson is painfully aware of how lost he feels outside of hockey. filling his time outside of it with elaborate parties, meaningless flings, he puts on a front that is very different than who he really is, but there are times where he feels like he doesn't know who that person really is.

PLATONIC

orson is very social, though not always the most friendly. he can be a little full of himself, but if you can stomach it, he's a pretty good friend. an extrovert, he prefers to be with other people than by himself, so he's always spending time with one friend or another (when he's not spending time with the team). however, he's not very good at letting him get close to him, and very rarely talks about what's bothering him. this leads to some (most) friendships feeling superficial, though he wants something deeper.

ROMANTIC

in short, orson is terrible at relationships. past the casual stage, he is far too focused on his career, and can be inadvertently critical of his partners. in the casual stage, he can be a fun partner, though again not very serious about the relationship, or even the other person's feelings.

ANTAGONISTIC

orson can very an abrasive personality, seemingly arrogant and unconcerned with other people. those not charmed by his smiles or talents or wealth find him annoying, two dimensional, and a vapid athlete. always defensive, orson doesn't try to win over those who don't like him, preferring always to poke the bear and win.

MISCELANOUS

orson is deaf, with 40% hearing loss. he wears hearing aids, and can speak, but also uses asl

very, very competitive in literally everything. the kind of guy to race you to the end of the street for literally no reason.

very into fashion, but mostly streetwear. more money than sense, he sometimes wears the ugliest outfits you've ever seen but swears they are fire

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Also for @aimmyarrowshigh ‘s Hanukkah Bingo:

Fic or Art/Graphic Title: Bring Extra

Author/Artist Name: WonderlandLeighLeigh

Fandom: The MCU (Alt universe where everyone lives/stay after endgame)

Jewish or Jew-Ish Character(s): Bucky Barnes

Bingo Squares Being Filled: Menorah

Rating: PG13

Warning(s): Probably language 

Link to Work: Below

It’s not a fancy menorah by any definition of the word. 

Brass and old. If you looked into the candle holes, you’d see there’s old candle wax that’s turned to dust over the last seventy-five-ish years. 

Bucky sighs heavily as he looks it over. 

“That thing’s seen better days,” Sam comments gently from the door. 

Bucky shrugs at his friends. “I don’t know the last time it was used. It was my mother’s, and before it was hers, it was her mother’s, and her mother’s, and probably even older than that,  so…” 

Sam nods, sitting next to him. “Honestly, I can’t imagine what it’s like to have a family heirloom go that far back.” 

“I’m lucky,” Bucky acknowledges. 

“You gonna use it this year?” Sam asks. “First year post-snap. Might be nice.” 

“I wasn’t really planning on celebrating,” Bucky admits, fiddling with the menorah. “Just…everyone’s still trying to put things back together after Thanos…” 

“Which is why it’s the perfect time to celebrate something,” Sam says, taking a seat next to him. “Now, come on. I’ve never celebrated Hanukkah. I had friends in the service who were Jewish, but I never got the invite.” 

Bucky chuckles softly. “Well…my mother used to make latkes,” he tells him. “And one year, my sister tried to make sufganiyot.” 

“sufgant-what?” Sam asks with a chuckle.

“Fried jelly donuts,” Bucky explains. “But she nearly burnt the apartment down.” 

Sam laughs softly. “Well, we don’t have to do that. My sister is the best cook I know aside from me, and not even she would try that.” 

“You think anyone else would wanna come?” Bucky asks warily. “I mean - aside from you and Steve. I figure most people have Christmas plans, or just might not be too interested.” 

“Bucky. You are talking about giving the Avengers things to eat,” Sam reminds him. “They’re gonna show up.” 

He huffs out an amused breath. “When you’re right, you’re right.” 

And so word gets around, and on the first night of Hanukkah, Sam’s quarters at the newly rebuilt compound are packed with Avengers.

Bucky stares, a little stunned, at everyone. At Clint and his kids, and Natasha, and Tony and Pepper and their kid. At Wanda and Vision. At Bruce and Thor. “Did I buy enough potatoes for this?” 

Sam laughs and slaps his shoulder affectionately. “Thor is here. So probably not.” 

“...Shit.” 

Steve nudges him gently. “I brought extra.” 

Bucky shakes his head and pats his shoulder. “Saving the day, as usual.”

“Wait, so what happens if you get hot oil on the arm?” Sam asks, following his friend into the kitchen.

“You’d have to ask Shuri...who just showed up. So. You’re in luck.”

Steve sets a large sack of potatoes on the counter and leans on it, next to Bucky. “You lit the candles without us.”

“I did.”

“We coulda been here for it,” Steve reminds him.

“Eh. It was nice, just bein’ me. Maybe tomorrow night.”

With that, a speck of oil flings itself from the pan, right at his flesh arm. “Christ!”

“He’s not here!” Tony calls.

“Shut up, Stark!” Bucky calls as he starts frying the already-made batter.

[doctordonovan]

❀    ||       maeve && her dc / marvel ability and resurrection

in her heroes / dc / marvel verse whilst maeve’s ability is beautiful… it’s actually probably absolutely terrifying to witness. she ties into people’s very life energy && can manipulate it.

like the fates cutting strings of destiny there’s something overwhelming to even witnessing it. when she’s using her ability she can literally sense how long a person is ‘meant’ to live for. it's something she only ever uses intentionally to heal ( by stealing energy from around her, from within herself ) and pushing it into someone: often risking putting herself into little comas if not worse if she gives too much of herself away.

when she does use it as a last resort to try and stop someone, it’s not beautiful. her eyes go white, her usual vibrancy fades and she’s both life and death in one. it’s not an evil ability but it’s not good either, it’s pure neutrality, and it’s why maeve fears it so much because… it’s all on her to constantly control it and ensure it’s only used right.

it's part of why she's the perfect person to wield such power: the fact she's not at all intoxicated by it, she doesn't want to live potentially for a VERY long time. it's only unlocked by diane killing her && her old life is lost to her once she wakes to this impossible world she's now meant to navigate.

important note: for anyone who has noticed the fact maeve’s story about how she came back to life constantly changes slightly whenever she’s asked…  it’s because she’s lying and leaving details out.   I’m like 90% certain she probably woke in her own coffin so she shifts the truth just enough to not have to tell people everything.  her ability did ‘drain’ a mortician  ( and like a fuck ton of birds that were found dead in the cemetery )    but because jewish funerals happen so quickly after death,  the delay to her waking up…  probably wasn’t the greatest timing.

once she’s back,  she still works as a geneticist but trying to help metahumans / inhumans who can’t control their abilities so they won’t accidentally hurt themselves or others.   before her death her work was absolutely renown and anyone with an interest in any of her fields    (   though mainly genetics   )    of expertise would have heard of her name.    maeve has never been interested in being well known or remembered,  she just wants to do good.

she builds up a network of safehouses, works hard to be there when people seek out help, and just generally keeps as low a profile as she can.

[bayofwolves]

rachel berenson headcanons bc i love that girl.

loves loves loves cassie. would die for cassie. (they have been known to make out on occasion)

they met when they were 8 at a summer camp in santa monica; cassie had just moved from virginia and and rachel had just moved from los angeles. coincidentally, they would be going to the same school in the fall. rachel started off thinking cassie was pretty weird, but she defended her from some bullies (like a champ) and spent a bit of time watching her poke around in the dirt, water the flowers and talk to the birds and the butterflies. by the end of the week, cassie had asked rachel to be her best friend by making little friendship bracelets for the two of them.

rachel ALWAYS wore her bracelet, and i mean ALWAYS. it's just plain beads, leftover accessories from when cassie had braids to decorate, but rachel never cared if it didn't match her outfit. she ALWAYS wore that thing. eventually they had grown so much that the bracelet was too small to be worn on the wrist, so rachel switched to wearing hers around her ankle and has been doing so ever since. it's so old and worn that it has snapped (she tied it back together haphazardly) and lost beads (she didn't mind), but she refuses to let it go.

she's actually left-handed!

big 3 battle morphs: grizzly bear, elephant and bald eagle.

favourite morphs (aside from big 3): cheetah, cat, german shepherd.

no pets, but she wouldn't mind a cat or a large dog like a husky. she isn’t big on either, though.

she doesn't want kids bc she feels like she's already had that experience with her little sisters. and it's true; especially since the divorce, rachel's been like a second mom to jordan (two years younger) and sara (five years younger).

she wants to drive a sports car or a motorcycle when she's older and honestly she'll probably do both.

guaranteed weak spots: her little sisters, cassie.

even mean rachel never snapped at cassie not ONCE! the most she did was glower and grumble in her direction tbh.

light golden-blonde hair, lower back length.

her eyes are like, fuckin electric ice-blue. please get her brown contacts

she is 6′0 and the tallest of the animorphs.

her ears are pierced yes BUT she ALSO has a silver nose ring. idk the backstory behind that one but it's there.

she was so overjoyed when cassie got faux locs. "girl finally you're doing something with your hair." of course, cassie proceeded to keep them tied back 24/7. "it's so they don't get in the way when i work!" "you work around the clock?" "pretty much...?"

she does like how cassie uses her own bracelet, the one matching with rachel's, to tie the locs back, tho. she took special notice of that.

this girl is a femme lesbian !! i know it when i see it. she and cassie are like a textbook example of femme4butch.

she's an aries.

she was born just a month before jake. throughout the war they came to see each other as brother and sister really

usually she HATES physical touch. like "get off me or in three seconds i will vaporize you." she can stand it with cassie who is a big fan of cuddling and being vulnerable and all that. but most of the time hell nah. her love language is quality time alll the way.

rachel is a BIG FAN of cass as a nickname for cassie. she tends to save it for when they’re alone together tho.

cassie’s nickname for rachel is rach. it was their special thing but marco didn’t gaf and started calling her rach too. so did jake (he picked it up from marco)

rachel and marco were actually quite close before he transitioned. they grew apart, then grew back together during the war. they are an Unstoppable duo. their chemistry could blow up the world.

she is jewish yes this is canon but i feel like it's not touched upon enough. it's very important to her! she is ethnically and culturally jewish, but an atheist!

rachel’s last words, “i love you”, were directed to ALL of the animorphs. cassie, tobias, jake, marco and ax. i just think it feels right.

please someone bring this girl back to life so she can go home and marry cassie with jake as best man Thanks.

i do have an au where the ellimist stopping time for rachel at the moment of her death actually meant something (he rewound the tapes a bit and let her live). thumbs up

[atlafan]

I’ll never forget nicks mom texting me on my birthday this year saying, “your last birthday as a single girl!” when she full well knew Nick was having cold feet. Also, I wasn’t single, I was in a committed relationship. I hate the notion that if you’re not married, then you’re single even if you have a partner. It’s just so old fashioned. And you’d think two people who grew up in the 70s/80s wouldn’t be so old fashioned, but Jesus fuck even my parents, who are much older than nicks parents, are more modern about relationships. I mean obviously my parents wanted us all to be married before we had kids. But if I had gotten pregnant beforehand, it still would have been a blessing. My mother took my fathers last name, and my sister in law took our last name, but my sister didn’t take her husbands last name and nobody said boo! My dad didn’t quite understand it but he also knows that’s just how things are now. But nicks dad was personally offended when he found out I wasn’t changing my last name to Raymond. Sure, my initials would have remained the same, but that’s not the issue. I don’t believe that I should have to give up my identity just because I’m promising to love someone forever. He doesn’t have to change his last name. I joked around about nick hyphenating his last name and his dad thought I was serious. He said to him, “that’s just not something mom and I would do.” Okay? And? We’re not you. Nick is turning 33 on April 3rd. His older brother is 36, also can’t make a relationship work but is also less fucked up than nick is, and his younger brother is turning 30 this summer, also can’t make a relationship last. So let me ask you this, Tony Raymond, if you and Mary know everything there is to know in this world and you both know best and you both do everything right and your way is the best way, then why do your three boys have such intimacy issues? Why do your three boys struggle with affection? You have created an environment where no matter what your kids do, they’re wrong. So, when your three boys die alone and don’t continue you on having children with your last name, tell me was it worth it raising the issue about me not taking it? Because any grandchildren I would have given you would have been a Raymond. Oh, and another issue all of a sudden was that our children would be Jewish, and raised as such, and his dad wanted to make sure they would also still be Catholic even though Nick is a fucking atheist! These people will never take a long look within themselves. It’s a pity. On the outside, they’re such a wonderful family. And they were very good to me. But I also never felt comfortable enough in their home to even use the bathroom or get myself a drink or to even speak. I only spoke in that house unless I was spoken to because I was afraid of saying the wrong thing. The judgement and passive aggressive nature of that house is horrible. My family is nowhere near perfect, but at least when we have a problem we fucking address it right then and there. We don’t let it fester. Also, how interesting that nicks dad asked him all these questions when I wasn’t around. You want to know something about me? Fucking ask me. He also texted me on my birthday to wish me a good one. These people are monsters.