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Three Goblin Art
đȘŒ
Aqua Utopiaïœæ”·ăźćșă§èšæ¶ă玥ă
Claire Keane

tannertan36

JVL
Today's Document
styofa doing anything
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
dirt enthusiast

PR's Tumblrdome
Sweet Seals For You, Always
YOU ARE THE REASON
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Monterey Bay Aquarium

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ
Cosmic Funnies
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
RMH

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@kalmia1972
Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo weâve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and itâs revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.
Might I add:
The defeat of the wizard who made people choose how theyâd be to be executed
The woman who raised the changeling alongside her biological child
The human who died of radiation poisoning after repairing the spaceship
The adventures of a space roomba
Cinderella finding Araura (and falling in love)
I donât know a snappy description but the my nemesis cynthia story certainly lives in my head
hilariously, these are almost all in my fic tag. so, a compiled list from the notes (and some extras):
The God of Arepo (graphic novel 1 / 2 / 3) (ebook)
The Monster of Sentan
The Witchâs Cat
Raise Both Children
Stabby the Roomba (honorable mention)
Cinderella Marries the Prince (comic)
My Arch Nemesis Cynthia
Pirates and Mermaid
Eindred and the Witch
The Demon King
The Cornerwitch
Grandmother Beetroot
Apocalypse Daycare Worker
Grandmother Accidentally Summons a Demon
New Year Saga
A Story About Changelings
Ranger in the Kingâs Forest
The Difference Between a Hare and a Rabbit
Goblin Men (Canines)
I am in love with you /p
Adding Faceblind Prince Charming and Cinderella
21. The human who died of radiation poisoning after repairing the spaceship
22. The defeat of the wizard who made people choose how theyâd be to be executed
adding the Doctors Without Borders one
I LOVE tumblr storytime, so hereâs a bunch more your weekend reading. Enjoy!
24. The Queen with Three Cursed Children
25. Tiny Dragon with one coin hoard
26. Haunted house
27. Shark hero was about to go rogue
28. Grandma lives in the woods comic
29. A Different Aftermath comic
30. Battery (microstory but I love it so much)
31. Itâs A Date comic
32. Supervillian kidnaps rivalâs kid and they want to stay
33. Narrative Town
34. I have been hired to clean the wizard tower comic
35. Robot Apocalypse
36. The Statues That Do Not Weather
37. Kushiel
38. Tooth Fairy
39. Alien abduction
40. Felonious wish-granting
41. When humans met actual space orcs
42. Space cousins
WAIT REBLOG THIS VERSION INSTEAD
He has a lot of testimonials attesting to his effectiveness.
someone explain the jewish holidays to me like i'm 5 years old
Purim: They tried to kill us, we survived. Letâs tell the story, wear silly costumes, and get wasted. (Optional: have a carnival or a play!)
Passover: They enslaved us, God freed us. Remember this via a big ceremony/feast and then donât eat bread for a week. This is a big one; youâre going to have to clean your house and host all your relatives.
Tu B'Shevat: Itâs Earth Day, letâs eat some fruit.
Simchas Torah: We read the entire Torah every year, and we got to the end! Letâs have a dance party and then start all over again!
Tisha B'Av: They destroyed our temples. That sucked.
Rosh HaShanah: Happy New Year! Itâs time to ask (and grant) forgiveness for the wrongs done in the past year, pledge to do better, and wish for a sweet new year. And go to synagogue for HOURS.
Yom Kippur: Rosh HaShanahâs somber counterpart. God decides on this day your fate for the next year. Repent your sins, hope for forgiveness, and fast. (And go to synagogue for HOURS.)
Yom HaShoah: Holocaust Remembrance Day.
Sukkot: Harvest festival! Sleep in a hut under the stars.
Shemini Atzeret: Man, I donât even know?
Shavuot: God gave us the Torah! That was pretty nice of him.
Chanukah: They busted up our temple and tried to forcibly convert us. We responded with guerilla warfare. Letâs eat some fried food. Candles!
So basically the entire Jewish holiday calendar is giving the middle finger to death and high-fiving, with or without various combinations of prayer and foods.
Yup. Or as we say, âThey tried to kill us, we survived, letâs eat.â
thank you for the descâs bcs they are beautiful and i am now educated
A handy table for everyone:
Yâall have no idea how happy it makes me to see my goyim followers reblogging this. Really. It means the world to me.
Oh SWEET, a table!
Color-coded like my gradebooks. I adore this.
How old were you at the lowest point in your life? Reblog this and put it in the tags, plus your current age maybe. I'm trying to see something.
Amazed that I have lived this long actually..
Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo weâve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and itâs revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.
Might I add:
The defeat of the wizard who made people choose how theyâd be to be executed
The woman who raised the changeling alongside her biological child
The human who died of radiation poisoning after repairing the spaceship
The adventures of a space roomba
Cinderella finding Araura (and falling in love)
I donât know a snappy description but the my nemesis cynthia story certainly lives in my head
hilariously, these are almost all in my fic tag. so, a compiled list from the notes (and some extras):
The God of Arepo (graphic novel 1 / 2 / 3) (ebook)
The Monster of Sentan
The Witchâs Cat
Raise Both Children
Stabby the Roomba (honorable mention)
Cinderella Marries the Prince (comic)
My Arch Nemesis Cynthia
Pirates and Mermaid
Eindred and the Witch
The Demon King
The Cornerwitch
Grandmother Beetroot
Apocalypse Daycare Worker
Grandmother Accidentally Summons a Demon
New Year Saga
A Story About Changelings
Ranger in the Kingâs Forest
The Difference Between a Hare and a Rabbit
Goblin Men (Canines)
Wonderful
#Tumblore #Tumblr fables #Tumblr folk stories #LateNightReading
cat riding sheep
my name is Cat
and at dayâs end
i visit with
my wooly frend
and as my pal
drifts off to sleep
upon his back
i knead the sheep.
A Job Well Done (rated G, ~1200 words)
Part 6 of the series Domestic Relations, a Sherlock-Good Omens crossover
Mycroft has a job for Sherlock. Sherlock has other ideas. Heâs also got friends who have his back, and are equal to something a little extra in the way of shenanigans.
âYouâre not to subvert the British government. Good heavens, Crowley, you worked for M. I. 5.â
âWouldnât think of it,â said Crowley. âPinky swear. Just donât tell âim.â
âI know nothing,âsaid Sherlock.
âFirst and last time youâll ever hear him say that,â muttered John.
Read on AO3
My happy place -- the intersection of Sherlock & Good Omens
Iâm not British so sorry if this is a stupid question and 8âm struggling to phrase this intelligently, but is there a limit of how many people can be the replacement prime minister before they have to have a vote? Like I can understand a rule where they can just nominate someone from their party to replace them (although in my mind that should only be applicable if there was a death or some sort of illness that makes them unfit and not incompetence) but when is there a vote?
I'm pretty sure I discussed this before but I have that specific brand of ADHD laziness rn where I feel like it's quicker to type it out again than just. Look for the post. So eh, c'est la vie, here I go again
So the legal answer is no, there's no limit. This is because when we vote in Britain, what we're voting for is a Parliament - you are electing your local MP, nothing more. One of the parties gains a majority of seats - or, if parliament is hung, two or more will enter into a coalition to gain a majority between them - and then that party constructs a Cabinet to form the actual government which then makes laws and shit. And they can change that Cabinet as much as they want and at any time, and that does include the party leader i.e. the Prime Minister.
However.
(However.)
The situation is unprecedented. It is extremely rare, anywhere in the world, to see one of the parties in a two-party system disintegrate into ashes. Minor third parties? Sure, those come and go. Rocked by scandals? Oh yeah, very common. Crumble to dust so completely they're very literally incapable of governing because every ounce of energy is going towards yelling and scheming while they all commit political suicide one by one? No.
Like I cannot stress enough that they haven't actually achieved anything in MONTHS. Except, memorably, obliterating the economy and vastly expanding the national debt. So far, all Sunak has done is try and undo what Truss did, and all Truss did was try and undo what Johnson did. They have done NOTHING new. Almost every issue the country is facing, for good and ill, has been on a back burner for half a year. Barely even looked at. Ignored. Functionally, there is no government, and hasn't been for about eight months.
And to put it into perspective, the last time leaders changed this much between GEs was the second world war. And that time the middle guy (a) died and (b) lasted longer than Truss anyway. And on top of that, the third guy was Winston Churchill, who got the job because there was a coalition government at the time, and he was the one Labour were most willing to work with - meaning, there was at least one group (and in reality more than one) who actually wanted him in the position and voted for him, unlike Sunak, who stole the job because literally no one else wanted it. We are in uncharted territory, without a map.
So while legally there is no limit on leader changes...
How long will the public put up with it?
That's now the question.
Pretty sure I have watched telenovelas that contained less drama. But then, I never thought that Trump would get elected back in 2016. And that fucker will not GO AWAY.
I love them â„ïž A Floof with zoomies đš
THIS
Just got yelled at in the street for wearing my "Canonically Bisexual" t-shirt that I got from @vaspider's store. Apparently, it counts as "sexually explicit content," and I should be ashamed to be around kids. When I pointed out that none of the kids would have noticed me if she hadn't started yelling across the street at me, she went beet red and looked ready to blow a gasket.
So you heard it here first, folks. A t-shirt that fully covers your body but contains the word "bisexual" counts as sexually explicit.
And if you'd like to buy your own sexually explicit t-shirt and make a homophobe burst a blood vessel in public, you can get it here:
This shirt has a classic, straight cut with a mid-weight to light cotton fabric, printed 'Canonically Bisexual' and a flourish in bisexual p
Fucking hell. What a day.
I am all for anything that will make a homophobe stroke out
#CuteMerch
A source of great joy to me this weekend has been watching Boris Johnson's fucking transparent-as-oxygen game of Schrödinger's contestant because my god, this man's ego
Like he cancelled his holiday, came home early on Saturday, and he was ready, Tumblrs, he was ready, little blue boxing gloves on, sweatband in place around his little ham ears, Carrie Antoinette mopping his brow... He was here and prepared to FIGHT Rishi Sunak. He was going to WIN. This was his chance to unite the Tories, to be vindicated and exonerated, to get back to his ugly flat in number 10 that he had decorated like a colonial officer's room in the British Raj, and everyone was going to pat his wig and honk his dick and it was all going to be great. All he needed was a hundred supporters! He could beat his mean former Grand Vizier! It was going to be beautiful.
...Except people did hate him when he left, didn't they? They said very mean things about his face and also his brain. When he was packing up he even found custard in his clown shoes, Tumblrs, and he's pretty sure it was Michael Gove that put it there because he smirked at the squelching. So wouldn't it be awful - wouldn't it be HORRIFYING - if he tried to compete...and LOST.
:O :O :O
Solution - campaign without ever actually telling anyone you're campaigning. If you win, huzzah! You're so popular! If you lose, it's fine, you were never actually competing. Schrödinger's contestant. A perfect plan. The only thing that would undermine it is if you then very obviously and visibly start canvassing and competing.
Lol.
The highlights included:
Getting back into the country yesterday and immediately claiming that he already had over 100 votes, because hey, lying always worked before
He did not
He had 54
Calling Penny Mordaunt today and begging her to drop out so he can have her votes
Penny Mordaunt telling him to fuck his own clown nose
Penny Mordaunt telling him her supporters will switch to Sunak anyway if she drops out
Penny Mordaunt telling him some of his own supporters have already switched to her
Claiming tonight (Sunday) as the Monday deadline approaches that he has 102
102 is the exact number you'd claim because 100 or 101 would sound too unbelievable
Realising he is definitely not going to win because he does not, in fact, have 102, or even 100
Announcing 15 minutes ago that he isn't competing anyway so really when you think about it he hasn't lost
He should have stayed on holiday
Anyway people keep asking me but I'm telling you, it'll be Sunak
First time Boris has pulled out! đł
If only Trump would pull out of this country...
"Don't spy on a privacy lab" (and other career advice for university provosts)
This is a wild and hopeful story: grad students at Northeastern successfully pushed back against invasive digital surveillance in their workplace, through solidarity, fearlessness, and the bright light of publicity. Itâs a tale of hand-to-hand, victorious combat with the âshitty technology adoption curve.â
Whatâs the âshitty tech adoption curve?â Itâs the process by which oppressive technologies are normalized and spread. If you want to do something awful with techâââsay, spy on people with a camera 24/7âââyou need to start with the people who have the least social capital, the people whose objections are easily silenced or overridden.
Thatâs why all our worst technologies are first imposed on refugees -> prisoners -> kids -> mental patients -> poor people, etc. Then, these technologies climb the privilege gradient: blue collar workers -> white collar workers -> everyone. Following this pathway lets shitty tech peddlers knock the rough edges off their wares, inuring us all to their shock and offense.
https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust
20 years ago, if you ate dinner under the unblinking eye of a CCTV, it was because you were housed in a supermax prison. Today, itâs because you were unwise enough to pay hundreds or thousands of dollars for âhome automationâ from Google, Apple, Amazon or another âluxury surveillanceâ vendor.
Northeasternâs Interdisciplinary Science and Engineering Complex (ISEC) is home to the âCybersecurity and Privacy Institute,â where grad students study the harms of surveillance and the means by which they may be reversed. If thereâs one group of people who are prepared to stand athwart the shitty tech adoption curve, it is the CPI grad students.
Which makes it genuinely baffling that Northeastern Senior Vice Provost for Research David Luzzi decided to install under-desk heat sensors throughout ISEC, overnight, without notice or consultation. Luzzi signed the paperwork that brought the privacy institute into being.
Students throughout ISEC were alarmed by this move, but especially students on the sixth floor, home to the Privacy Institute. When they demanded an explanation, they were told that the university was conducting a study on âdesk usage.â This rang hollow: students at the Privacy Institute have assigned desks, and they badge into each room when they enter it.
As Privacy Institute PhD candidate Max von Hippel wrote, âReader, we have assigned desks, and we use a key-card to get into the room, so, they already know how and when we use our desks.â
https://twitter.com/maxvonhippel/status/1578048837746204672
So why was the university suddenly so interested in gathering fine-grained data on desk usage? I asked von Hippel and he told me: âThey are proposing that grad students share desks, taking turns with a scheduling web-app, so administrators can take over some of the space currently used by grad students. Because as you know, research always works best when you have to schedule your thinking time.â
Thatâs von Hippelâs theory, and Iâm going to go with it, because Luzzi didnât offer a better one in the flurry of memos and âlistening sessionsâ that took place after the ISEC students arrived at work one morning to discover sensors under their desks.
This is documented in often hilarious detail in von Hippelâs thread on the scandal, in which the university administrators commit a series of unforced errors and the grad students run circles around them, in a comedy of errors straight out of âAnimal House.â
https://twitter.com/maxvonhippel/status/1578048652215431168
After the sensors were discovered, the students wrote to the administrators demanding their removal, on the grounds that there was no scientific purpose for them, that they intimidated students, that they were unnecessary, and that the university had failed to follow its own rules and ask the Institutional Review Board (IRB) to review the move as a human-subjects experiment.
The letter was delivered to Luzzi, who offered âan impromptu listening sessionâ in which he alienated students by saying that if they trusted the university to âgiveâ them a degree, they should trust it to surveil them. The students bristled at this characterization, noting that students deliver research (and grant money) to âmake it tick.â
[Image ID: Sensors arrayed around a kitchen table at ISEC]
The students, believing Luzzi was not taking them seriously, unilaterally removed all the sensors, and stuck them to their kitchen table, annotating and decorating them with Sharpie. This prompted a second, scheduled âlistening sessionâ with Luzzi, but this session, while open to all students, was only announced to their professors (âBeware of the leopardâ).
The students got wind of this, printed up fliers and made sure everyone knew about it. The meeting was packed. Luzzi explained to students that he didnât need IRB approval for his sensors because they werenât âmonitoring people.â A student countered, what was being monitored, âif not people?â Luzzi replied that he was monitoring âheat sources.â
https://github.com/maxvonhippel/isec-sensors-scandal/blob/main/Oct_6_2022_Luzzi_town_hall.pdf
Remember, these are grad students. They asked the obvious question: which heat sources are under desks, if not humans (von Hippel: ârats or kangaroos?â). Luzzi fumbled for a while (âa service animal or somethingâ) before admitting, âI guess, yeah, itâs a human.â
Having yielded the point, Luzzi pivoted, insisting that there was no privacy interest in the data, because âno individual data goes back to the server.â But these arenât just grad studentsâââtheyâre grad students who specialize in digital privacy. Few people on earth are better equipped to understand re-identification and de-aggregation attacks.
[Image ID: A window with a phrase written in marker, âWe are not doing science hereâ -Luzzi.]
A student told Luzzi, âThis doesnât matter. You are monitoring us, and collecting data for science.â Luzzi shot back, âwe are not doing science here.â This ill-considered remark turned into an on-campus meme. Iâm sure it was just blurted in the heat of the moment, but wow, was that the wrong thing to tell a bunch of angry scientists.
From the transcript, itâs clear that this is where Luzzi lost the crowd. He accused the students of âfeeling emotionâ and explaining that the data would be used for âdifferent kinds of research. We want to see how students move around the lab.â
Now, as it happens, ISEC has an IoT lab where they take these kinds of measurements. When they do those experiments, students are required to go through IRB, get informed consent, all the stuff that Luzzi had bypassed. When this is pointed out, Luzzi says that they had been given an IRB waiver by the universityâs Human Research Protection Program (HRPP).
Now a prof gets in on the action, asking, pointedly: âIs the only reason it doesnât fall under IRB is that the data will not be published?â A student followed up by asking how the university could justify blowing $50,000 on surveillance gear when that money would have paid for a whole grad student stipend with money left over.
Luzziâs answers veer into the surreal here. He points out that if he had to hire someone to monitor the studentsâ use of their desks, it would cost more than $50k, implying that the bill for the sensors represents a cost-savings. A student replies with the obvious rejoinderâââjust donât monitor desk usage, then.
Finally, Luzzi started to hint at the underlying rationale for the sensors, discussing the cost of the facility to the university and dangling the possibility of improving utilization of âresearch assets.â A student replies, âIf you want to understand how research is done, donât piss off everyone in this building.â
Now that they have at least a vague explanation for what research question Luzzi is trying to answer, the students tear into his study design, explaining why he wonât learn what heâs hoping to learn. Itâs really quite a good experimental design critiqueâââthese are good students! Within a few volleys, theyâre pointing out how these sensors could be used to stalk researchers and put them in physical danger.
Luzzi turns the session over to an outside expert via a buggy Zoom connection that didnât work. Finally, a student asks whether itâs possible that this meeting could lead to them having a desk without a sensor under it. Luzzi points out that their desk currently doesnât have a sensor (remember, the students ripped them out). The student says, âI assume youâll put one back.â
[Image ID: A âpublic art pieceâ in the ISEC lobbyâââa table covered in sensors spelling out âNO!,â surrounded by Sharpie annotations decrying the program.]
They run out of time and the meeting breaks up. Following this, the students arrange the sensors into a âpublic art pieceâ in the lobbyâââa table covered in sensors spelling out âNO!,â surrounded by Sharpie annotations decrying the program.
Meanwhile, students are still furious. Itâs not just that the sensors are invasive, nor that they are scientifically incoherent, nor that they cost more than a yearâs salaryâââthey also emit lots of RF noise that interferes with the studentsâ own research. The discussion spills onto Reddit:
https://www.reddit.com/r/NEU/comments/xx7d7p/northeastern_graduate_students_privacy_is_being/
Yesterday, Luzzi capitulated, circulating a memo saying they would pull âall the desk occupancy sensors from the building,â due to âconcerns voiced by a population of graduate students.â
https://twitter.com/maxvonhippel/status/1578101964960776192
The shitty technology adoption curve is relentless, but you canât skip a step! Jumping straight to grad students (in a privacy lab) without first normalizing them by sticking them on the desks of poor kids in underfunded schools (perhaps after first laying off a computer science teacher to free up the budget!) was a huge tactical error.
A more tactically sound version of this is currently unfolding at CMU Computer Science, where grad students have found their offices bugged with sensors that detect movement and collect sound:
https://twitter.com/davidthewid/status/1387909329710366721
The CMU administration has wisely blamed the presence of these devices on the need to discipline low-waged cleaning staff by checking whether theyâre really vacuuming the offices.
https://twitter.com/davidthewid/status/1387426812972646403
While itâs easier to put cleaners under digital surveillance than computer scientists, trying to do both at once is definitely a boss-level challenge. You might run into a scholar like David Gray Widder, who, observing that âthis seems like algorithmic management of lowly paid employees to me,â unplugged the sensor in his office.
https://twitter.com/davidthewid/status/1387909329710366721
This is the kind of full-stack Luddism this present moment needs. These researchers arenât opposed to sensorsâââtheyâre challenging the social relations of sensors, who gets sensed and who does the sensing.
https://locusmag.com/2022/01/cory-doctorow-science-fiction-is-a-luddite-literature/
[Image ID: A flier inviting ISEC grad students to attend an unadvertised âlistening sessionâ with vice-provost David Luzzi. It is surmounted with a sensor that has been removed from beneath a desk and annotated in Sharpie to read: âIf found by David Luzzi suck it.â]
Talk about an unforced error. But very very typical of administratorsâ arrogance and ignorance about the essence and ethos of academia
Academic administrator positions increase in my campus like breeding fruit flies. Of course they look for more space. And immediately renovate it $$$
An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.
It isnât uncommon for this particular demon to be summonedâfrom exhausting Halloween party pranks in abandoned barns to more legitimate (more exhausting) ceremonies in forestsâbut it has to admit, this is the first time itâs been called forth from its realm into a claustrophobic living room bathed in the dull orange-pink glow of old glass lamps and a multitude of wide-eyed, creepy antique porcelain dolls that could give Chucky a run for his money with all of their silent, seething stares combined. Accompanying those oddities are tea cup and saucer sets on shelves atop frilly doilies crocheted with the utmost care, and cross-stitched, colorful âHome Sweet Homeâs hung across the wood-paneled walls.
Itâs a mistakeâa wrong number, per se. No witch itâs ever known has lived in such an, ah, dated, home. Furthermore, no practitioner that ever summoned it has been absent, as if theyâd up and ding-dong ditched it. No, it didnât work that way. Not at all. Not if they want to survive the encounter.
It hears the clinking of movement in the room adjacentâthe kitchen, going by the pungent, bitter scent of cooled coffee and soggy, sweet sponge cakes, but more jarring is the smell of blood. It movesâfeels something slip beneath its clawed foot as it does, and sees a crocheted blanket of whites and greys and deep black yarn, wound intricately, perfectly, into a summoning circle. Its summoning circle. There is a small splash of bright scarlet and sharp, jagged bits of a broken curio scattered on top, as if someone had dropped it, attempted to pick it up the pieces and pricked their finger. It would explain the blood. And it would explain the demon being brought into this strange place.
As it connects these pieces in its mind, the inhabitant of the house rounds the corner and exits the kitchen, holding a damp, white dish towel close to her hand and fumbling with the beaded bifocals hanging from her neck by a crocheted lanyard before stopping dead in her tracks.
Now, to be fair, the demon wouldnât ordinarily second guess being face-to-face with a hunchbacked crone with a beaked nose, beady eyes and a peculiar lack of teeth, or a spidery shawl and ankle-length black dress, but there is definitely something amiss here. Especially when the old biddy lets her spectacles fall slack on her bosom and erupts into a wide, toothy (toothless) grin, eyes squinting and crinkling from the sheer effort of it.
âTodd! Todd, dear, I didnât know you were visiting this year! You didnât call, you didnât writeâbut, oh, Iâm so happy youâre here, dear! Would it have been too much to ask you to ring the doorbell? I almost had a heart attack. And donât worry about the blood, hereâI had an accident. My favorite figure toppled off of the table and cleanup didnât go as expected. But I seem to recall you are quite into the bloodshed and âedgyâ stuff these days, so I donât suppose you mind.â She releases a hearty, kind laugh, but it isnât mocking, itâs sweet. Grandmotherly. The demon is by no means sentimental or maudlin, but the kindness, the familiarity, the genuine fondness, does pull a few dusty old nostalgic heartstrings. âImagine if it leaves a scar! Itâd be a bit âbadass,â as you teenagers say, wouldnât it?â
She is as blind as a bat without her glasses, it would appear, because the demon is by no means a âToddâ or a human at all, though humanoid, shrouded in sleek, black skin and hard spikes and sharp claws. But the demon humors her, if only because it had been caught off guard.
The old woman smiles still, before turning on her heel and shuffling into the hallway with a stiff gait revealing a poor hip. âBe a dear and make some more coffee, would you please? Iâll be back in a jiffy.â
Yes, this is most definitely a mistake. One for the record books, for certain. For late-night trips to bars and conversations with colleagues, while others discuss how many souls theyâd swindled in exchange for peanuts, or how many first-borns theyâd been pledged for things idiot humans could have gained without divine intervention. Ugh. Sometimes it all just became so pedantic that little detours like this were a blessingâhappy accidents, as the humans would say.
Thatâs why the demon does as asked, and plods slowly into the kitchen, careful to duck low and avoid the top of the doorframe. Thatâs why it gingerly takes the small glass pot and empties it of old, stale coffee and carefully, so carefully, takes a measuring scoop between its claws and fills the machine with fresh grounds. Itâs as the hot water is percolating that the old woman returns, her index finger wrapped tight in a series of beige bandages.
âIâm surprised youâre so tall, Todd! I havenât seen you since you were at my hip! But your mother mails photos all the timeâyou do love wearing all black, donât you?â She takes a seat at the small round table in the corner and taps the glass lid of the cake plate with quaking, unsteady, aged hands. âI was starting to think youâd never visit. Your father and I have had our disagreements, butâŠI am glad youâre here, dear. Would you like some cake?â Before the demon has a chance to decline, she lifts the lid and cuts a generous slice from the near-complete circle that has scarcely been touched. It smells of citrus and cream and is, as assumed earlier, soggy, oversaturated with icing.
It was made for a special occasion, for guests, but it doesnât seem this old woman receives much company in this musty, stagnant house that smells like an antique garage that hadnât had its dust stirred in years.
Especially not from her absentee grandson, Todd.
The demon waits until the coffee pot is full, and takes two small mugs from the counter, filling them until steam is frothing over the rims. Then, and only then, does it accept the cake and sit, with some difficulty, in a small chair at the small table. It warbles out a polite âthank you,â but it doesnât suppose the woman understands. Manners are manners regardless.
âOh, dear, I can hardly understand. Your voice has gotten so deep, just like your grandfatherâs was. That, and I do recall you have an affinity for that gravelly, screaming music. Did your voice get strained? Itâs alright, dear, Iâll do the talking. You just rest up. The coffee will help soothe.â
The demon merely nodsâsome communication can be understood without failâand drinks the coffee and eats the cake with a too-small fork. Itâs ordinary, mushy, but delicious because of the intent behind it and the love that must have gone into its creation.
âI hope you enjoyed all of the presents I sent you. You never write backâbut I am aware most people use that fancy E-mail these days. I just canât wrap my head around it. I do wish your mom and dad would visit sometime. I know of a wonderful little cafĂ© down the street we can go to. I havenât been; I wanted to visit it with Charles, before heâŠwell.â She falls silent in her rambling, staring into her coffee with a small, melancholy smile. âI canât believe itâs been ten years. You never had the chance to meet him. But never mind that.â Suddenly, and with surprising speed that has the demon concerned for her well being, she moves to her feet, bracing her hands on the edge of the table. âI may as well give you your birthday present, since youâre here. What timing! I only finished it this morning. Iâll be right back.â
When she returns, the white, grey and black crocheted work with the summoning circle is bundled in her arms. Â
âI found these designs in an occult book I borrowed from the library. I thought youâd like them on a nice, warm blanket to fight off the winter chillâI hope you do like it.â With gentle hands, she spreads the blanket over the demonâs broad, spiky back like a shawl, smoothing it over craggy shoulders and patting its arms affectionately. âHappy birthday, Todd, dear.â
Well, that settles it. Whoever, wherever, Todd is, heâs clearly missing out. The demon will just have to be her grandson from now on.
this is so sweet. it made me want to hug someone.
i had to
I WOULD WATCH SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE
Okay but she takes him to the little cafe and all of the people in her town are like âWhat is that thing, what the hell, Anette?â and sheâs like âDonât you remember my grandson Todd?â and the entire town just has to play along because no one will tell little old Nettie that her grandson is an actual demon because this is the happiest sheâs been since her husband died.
Bonus: In season 4 she makes him run for mayor and he wins
I just want to watch âToddâ help her with groceries, and help her with cooking, and help her clean up the dust around the house and air it out, and fill it with spring flowers because Anette mentioned she loved hyacinth and daffodils.  Over the seasons her eyesight worsens, so âToddâ brings a hellhound into the house to act as her seeing eye dog, and people in town are kinda terrified of this massive black brute with fur that drips like thick oil, and a mouth that can open all the way back to its chest, but âHoneyâ likes her hard candies, and doesnât get oil on the carpet, and when âToddâ has to go back to Hell for errands, Honey will snuggle up to Anette and rest his giant head on her lap, and whuff at her pockets for butterscotch. Anette never gives âToddâ her soul, but she gives him her heart
In season six, Anette gets sick. She spends most of the season bedridden and it becomes obvious by about midway through the season that sheâs not going to make it to the end of the season. Todd spends the season travelling back and forth between the human realm and his home plane, trying hard to find something, anything that will help Anette get better, to prolong her life. Heâs tried getting her to sell him her soul, but sheâs just laughed, told him that he shouldnât talk like that. With only a few episodes left in the season Anette passes away, Todd is by her side. When the reaper comes for her Todd asks about the fate of her soul. In a dispassionate voice the reaper informs Todd that Anette spent the last few years of her life cavorting with creatures of darkness, that there can be only one fate for her. Todd refuses to accept this and he fights the reaper, eventually injuring the creature and driving it off. Knowing that Anette cannot stay in the Human Realm, and refusing to allow her spirit to be taken by another reaper, so he takes her soul in his arms. Heâs done this before, when mortals have sold themselves to him. This time the soul cradled against his chest does not snuggle and fight. This time the soul held tight against him reaches out, pats him on the cheek tells him he was a good boy, and so handsome, just like his grandfather. Todd takes Anette back to the demon realm, holding her tight against him as he travels across the bleak and forebidding landscape; such a sharp contrast to the rosy warmth of Anetteâs home. Eventually, in a far corner of his home plane, Todd finds what he is looking for. It is a place where other demons do not tread; a large boulder cracked and broken, with a gap just barely large enough for Todd to fit through. This crack, of all things, gives him pause, but Anetteâs soul makes a comment about needing to get home in time to feed Honey, and Todd forces himself to pass through it. He travels in darkness for a while, before he emerges into into a light so bright that itâs blinding. His eyes adjust slowly, and he finds himself face to face with two creatures, each of them at least twice his size one of them has six wings and the head of a lion, one of them is an amorphous creature within several rings. The lion-headed one snarls at Todd, and demands that he turn back, that he has no business here. Todd looks down, holding Anetteâs soul against his chest, he takes a deep breath, and speaks a single word, âPlease.â The two larger beings are taken aback by this. They are too used to Toddâs kind being belligerent, they consult with each other, they argue. The amorphous one seems to want to be lenient, the lion-headed one insists on being stricter. While theyâre arguing Todd sneaks by them and runs as fast as he can, deeper into the brightly lit expanse. The path on which he travels begins to slope upwards, and eventually becomes a staircase. It becomes evident that each step further up the stair is more and more difficult for Todd, that itâs physically paining him to climb these stairs, but he keeps going.
They dedicate a full episode to this climb; interspersing the climb with scenes they werenât able to show in previous seasons, Anette and Honey coming to visit Todd in the Mayorâs office, Anette and Todd playing bingo together for the first time, Anette and Todd watching their stories together in the mid afternoon, Anette falling asleep in her chair and Todd gently carrying her to bed. Anette making Todd lemonade in the summer while heâs up on the roof fixing that leak and cleaning out the rain gutters. Eventually Todd reaches the top, and all but collapses, he falls to a knee and for the first time his grip on Anetteâs soul slips, and she falls away from him. Landing on the ground. He reaches out for her, but someone gets there first. Another hand reaches out, and helps this elderly woman off the ground, helps her get to her feet. Anette gasps, itâs Charles. The pair of them throw their arms around each other. Anette tells Charles that sheâs missed him so much, and she has so much to tell him. Charles nods. Todd watches a soft smile on his face. A delicate hand touches Toddâs shoulder, and pulls him easily to his feet. A figure; we never see exactly what it looks like, leans down, whispering in Toddâs ear that heâs done well, and that Anette will be well taken care of here. That she will spend an eternity with her loved ones. Todd looks back over to her, sheâs surrounded by a sea of people. Todd nods, and smiles. The figure behind him tells him that while he has done good in bringing Anette here, this is not his place, and he must leave. Todd nods, he knew this would be the case. Todd gets about six steps down the stairway before he is stopped by someone grabbing his shoulder again. He turns around, and Anette is standing behind him. She gives him a big hug and leads him back up the stairs, he should stay, she says. Get to know the family. Todd tries to tell her that he canât stay, but she wonât hear it. She leads him up into the crowd of people and begins introducing him to long dead relatives of hers, all of whom give him skeptical looks when she introduces him as her grandson. The mysterious figure appears next to Todd again and tells him once more he must leave, Todd opens his mouth to answer but Anette cuts him off. Nonsense, she tells the figure. IF sheâs gonna stay here forever her grandson will be welcome to visit her. She and the figure stare at each other for a moment. The figure eventually sighs and looks away, the figure asks Todd if sheâs always like this. Todd just shrugs and smiles, allowing Anette to lead him through a pair of pearly gates, sheâs already talking about how much cake theyâll need to feed all of these relatives.Â
P.S. Honey is a Good Dog and gets to go, too.
the last lines of the show:
demon: youâre not blind here â but youâre not surprised. whenâŠ?
anette: oh, toddy, donât be silly, my biological grandsonâs not twelve feet tall and doesnât scorch the furniture when he sneezes. iâve known for ages.
demon: then why?
anette: you wouldnât have stayed if you werenât lonely too.
demon: you⊠you donât have to keep calling me your grandson.
anette: nonsense! adopted children are just as real. now quit sniffling, you silly boy, and letâs go bake a cake. honey, heel!
honey: WÌœÌÌżÍÍÌOÌÍŠÌŁÌźÌčÍ ÌČÌȘOÍÌžÌÍÌŹFÌÍ«ÍÍÌÌ«ÍÌÍÍÌ
I only believe in a heaven that allows entry for doggies, and grandmas, and demons who love their adopted grandmas, and everyone else, too, no matter how redeemed or not.
How could you possibly think it was heaven if the ones you loved had been excluded? That wouldnât be heaven, that would be hell.
How can I have been on tumblr all this time and never have seen this?Â
This is the last scene of Smoke but made into literal heaven. Iâd watch this over and over if it were filmed. As it is Iâll read it over and over
Beware!
Avoid sci-hub toođ
From Ask for PDFs from People with Institutional Access
If you want to read an academic article that's behind a paywall just email the author and ask politely if they will send you the article. Most academics will be thrilled that you want to read their work and will gladly send it to you.
PSA
What @dowereallyneedthis said