Almost every ex-Catholic I know, myself included, still has at least one saint they like enough to keep around in some form. The number of ex-Catholics still burying St. Anthony in the back yard is not insignificant.
Listen I may not want anything to do with the Church or Jesus or all that, but the saint-powered folk magic taught to me by older women in my family? I'll keep that part, that part is rad. Especially since priests usually don't want you doing it.
God, okay, so Catholicism has a TON of little practices that totally qualify as folk magic, often practiced by women, but almost no Catholic granny will actually call it that. Growing up I learned all sorts of """prayers""" that are basically just magical spells. They can vary from country to country, depending on what other cultural influences are being blended with the Catholicism.
For example, burying a statue of St. Joseph (not Anthony; I got my saints mixed up) to help sell a house. It's also common to make offerings to statues of St. Anthony to help you find things that you've lost. Old Catholic ladies praying the rosary to enact specific wishes, things like that. God and Jesus never really enter into it--you're basically doing fancy rituals to ask the saints to make things happen and intercede on your behalf with God.
And, of course, how could I forget relics? "Let me pray and make offerings to this piece of bone taken from a dead saint, so their spirit in Heaven will entreat God to help me with my problems."
[ID: screenshotted tags from stargazing-enby that read, "#I never heard of these#But I did hear that if you want good weather you bring eggs to St Claire#catholicism." End ID.]
[ID: screenshotted comment from fabledshadow that reads, "I carry a St. Christopher medal with me, and I’ve never been seriously injured while traveling. Going to go ahead and hang on to that one lol it makes me feel better anyway." End ID.]
Also, no one loves candle magic quite like the Catholics. "Light this specific candle in this specific manner while saying these specific prayers" was, like, an entire THING when I was growing up. Candles for the dead, shelves full of offering candles that are never allowed to be blown out (only to burn out naturally), keeping candles lit to represent the presence of Jesus and Mary, baptism candles, advent candles, candles on a buche de noel, on it goes.
Errm, okay, so you like that stuff, but why though? They're not any more real than Jesus himself (except in the sense that the people saints are bases on that lived closer to our times are more likely to have existed at all, obviously) and I get that candles look pretty but burying statues for luck instead of whatever it is non-ex-Catholics do seems like a waste of a statue.
Although it's probably hilarious for the new owners (well, horror hilarious) to pull out some rotten statue during garden work. But I'm guessing that's not why?
Because it's harmless, it can help me process anxiety in high-stress situations, it can be fun, it gives me something to connect with, and it's something I can do to honor and acknowledge my cultural roots without participating in the violence of the Catholic church?
A more important question is why you give a shit what I do if it's not affecting you in the absolute slightest????
my favorite era in history is the one where people discovered you could make cartoons out of typography and newspapers would run articles that were just like “today dennis the intern figured out how to draw a dog with the typewriter so here it is”
I think one of my favorite things about Travis Willingham is how much he defies expectations and stereotypes and has like not a single drop of toxic masculinity in his body
He’s huge and buff and athletic but he’s also a huge nerd and fucking loves it and gets super into it, staring at Matt as he waves wonderful worlds with his words like a wide-eyed kid
He’s all cool and suave some times but then melts giving his tiny wife heart-eyes and avoids her rage and blushes like a mess when she flirts with him from across the room
He’ll super chill talking about how when he first contacted Laura it was to ask her help getting a VO gig without trying to play it cool or any semblance of hurt ego
He’s not ‘too cool’ to care about fictional romance, instead you can see hours upon hours of him shipping Vex and Percy, clutching his soda can when they get together, dancing around whenever they have a romantic milestone
Some dude-bro comes over in a panel and asks if it wasn’t kinda awkward watching his wife play-pretend having a romantic relationship with one of his friends and Travis ‘Fuck Fragile Masculinity’ Willingham is like “it was wonderful! I got to see my wife flirt with Taliesin and it was amazing!! I shipped it! I had to look up the term but I shipped it like FedEx!!” without a single qualm.
I just love Travis Willingham a lot okay? And I hope he is having a wonderful day wherever he is and schooling whiney dudebros teaching them what a real man looks like.
Yes. But people talk about how GMO’s are “unnatural”, yet for centuries humanity has been exploiting mutations in animals and plants to produce food for themselves.
GMO’s are simply the process of inducing these mutations reliably.
People hear “Lettuce being modified with scorpion DNA” and think that we’re now eating scorpions. But, in reality, they’re taking a tiny bit of scorpion DNA and splicing it into the plant. Why? So the plant will produce poison that is not harmful to humans but will deter insects, reducing the use of pesticide, which CAN be harmful to humans and the environment.
GMOs are producing rice that can survive flooding, which makes rice more reliable yields and will prevent food shortages in poor nations that rely on said crops for staple food.
GMOs are also creating spider-goat hybrids. Why? So we can splice web production into the goat’s udders. We’ll be able to spin huge quantities of spider silk, enough to reliably create spider silk cables and ropes, which have more tensile strength than steel.
The issue with GMOs is that corporations like Monsanto are patenting GMOs and arresting indigenous farmers for cross pollinating with they seeds. But there is nothing dangerous about the science.
I was already on board with his sweet wholesome open-to-love-and-nurturing heart but I was fully unprepared for getting to that last tweet and seeing how off the hook HOT dude is
I hope Avengers sometimes go to Strange like “I need your help” and he’s like “What’s wrong? Skrulls? Hydra?” and they’re like “I’m congested and it hurts when I swallow.”
Peter Parker calls Steve Rogers at midnight and he shows up at Aunt May’s in full uniform, shield at the ready. “You said something about Nazis? Let’s go.”
And Peter’s standing in the doorway in pajamas and like, pikachu slippers, and he’s like, “The AP history test is tomorrow. I need you to tell me everything you know.”
Alternately, I’m now picturing Wanda going to basically anyone else and trying to talk about some issues she and Vis are having, and universally, they all just go “Have you tried turning him off and turning him back on again?”
The Immortals quartet but it’s a d&d campaign where Daine convinced the DM to put all her stats into animal handling and cloud’s player convinced the DM to let her b a horse
numair’s player is one of those people who min-maxes everything
he put all his stats in intelligence to amp up his casting but wisdom is his dump stat so it’s like
numair: I roll to turn myself into a bird. [rolls] okay, so 19 plus my intelligence modifier… 37.
dm: hmm. okay.
numair: what?
dm: oh, just, want to roll wisdom for me?
numair: …okay? [rolls] a four.
dm: the drugs in your system are designed to take out a 6-foot man. they are now in the body of a 2 pound bird. you are Stunned and will continue to be until you receive healing.
numair: fuck.
pierce: captain america knows you exist and will now not let us be. you need to take care of him.
winter soldier: of course
——————
winter soldier: you should eat more. your serum would’ve affected your metabolism so if my calculations are correct, you ought to be eating at least twice the average human being.
steve, spilling his coffee: HOW DID YOU GET IN MY HOUSE
——————
steve, about to sleep: (:
winter soldier: it’s supposed to get super chilly around 2am so you should probably wrap up warm. here are some extra blankets
steve, startled: WERE YOU UNDER MY BED THIS WHOLE TIME
——————
steve, in a battle: dang i’m bleeding who shot me
winter soldier: here let me clean the wound and i’ve got a bandage right here just sit still don’t worry but when you’re done fighting you should probably get this looked at i know your serum heals you quicker but there might be something stuck in it and you don’t want your skin to grow over anything inside
steve, crying: who are you why are you following me
winter soldier: please be careful and make sure you get home safely
——————
steve, at peggy’s funeral: i can’t believe she’s gone
winter soldier, from behind: everything’s gonna be alright. she lived a long and fulfilling life. she loved you so much and she’d want you to carry on making a change in the world.
——————
pierce: soldat, mission report
winter soldier: mission is going well. captain rogers is eating more regularly, taking more care in battles, his exercise routine is no longer unhealthy. he is still grieving agent carter, but i believe he’ll be okay. last night he let me tuck him in-
We lost our beautiful, lively, shy, affectionate, panther of a house cat on Monday, March 25, 2019. While I hope the details of the past month fade from my memory, I know some of you are shocked at the news and want to know what happened. This story is still too painful to retell, so I’m putting it here.
It’s a long story with a tragic end. It’s not my best writing, but editing it further is beyond me right now.
Shadow came into our lives on Feb. 13th, 2015. We went to the animal shelter to look at a dog – instead, we came home with an eight-year-old black cat. We thought he was a gentle old man, but as soon as he stepped out of the crate we realized they had sent us home with a panther. He was thirteen pounds of pure muscle, and the first thing he did was jump up six feet to hide on the top shelf of my closet.
Despite his size and athleticism, he was incredibly gentle and shy. He hid under the bed the first two weeks that he spent with us, only coming out after lots of cajoling. Even then, he’d often stop just at the edge of the bed so we could reach in and pet him. Once he was comfortable with us, he’d throw himself at our feet for pets and scritches, rolling around so we could get at his belly. He was always deferential to our resident female cat, despite having at least three pounds on her. He was playful and sweet, jumping up walls to catch at laser lights and crawling under the covers for morning snuggles. You always knew what his favorite toy was, as he’d leave it next to (or, more commonly, in) his food dish.
I’m not sure when he stopped eating. He still cried for food every morning and night, and he still went to the bowl and began lapping it up. We noticed that there was more wet food being left over, but that happens sometimes and it usually isn’t a problem – maybe one or both cats don’t care for that flavor of wet food, or maybe they got tired of it, or maybe they’re eating less because everyone is less active in winter. They always had access to dry food, so I didn’t worry.
I was shocked when I picked him up in late February and realized I could feel his bones. He was always a healthy, muscular cat – but suddenly he felt frail and old. Concerned, I made an vet appointment; the soonest available was two weeks away. Luck was on our side, and I got a call a few days later saying they could see us March 8th.
At the vet, we found our healthy-at-thirteen-pounds boy was now under ten. Blood work showed signs of pancreatitis, dehydration, and anemia. X-rays didn’t find anything surprising, just an empty stomach. He got anti-nausea meds, pain meds, and fluids. They sent us back home with some prescription food, instructions to monitor his food and water intake, and a blood recheck appointment set up for a week later.
His appetite increased for a few days. He still wasn’t eating enough to gain any weight, but any progress was hopeful. But by Wednesday (the 13th) he was back to barely eating anything and I called and got him an appointment for the next day. The 14th was terrifying – his weight had continued to drop, and as had his red blood cell count. They recommended hospitalization for IV fluids and medication, and to monitor his eating. I cried signing the papers to leave him there for the day.
When I went to pick him up that night, they said he hadn’t really improved and they recommended overnight hospitalization. Our vet isn’t a 24 hour clinic, so that involved transferring him to a local emergency vet. The ER vet reassured us that pancreatitis is often treated by a few days of pushing fluids, so we should remain hopeful. She also offered to do an ultrasound on his abdomen, to further look for anything else that could be causing his symptoms. No one really knew why he was so anemic, but maybe the ultra sound would see if/where he was bleeding internally.
After a sleepless night, the ER vet called to tell us Shadow had done well – they’d gotten him to eat a little, and the ultra sound hadn’t found anything too alarming or conclusive. The only thing they noted was an enlarged lymph node. We were told another day of hospitalization would be ideal, but we might be able to take him home that night. It was with a much lighter heart that we brought him back to our regular vet, giving them the overnight report and excited to get our healthy boy back soon.
However, our rollercoaster took a sudden dive. The vet reported that he hadn’t eaten and had only gotten more lethargic as the day progressed. The next diagnostic step they recommended was exploratory surgery, during which they would also insert a feeding tube so we could ensure he was getting the calories he needed. At this point, they were very worried he was about to enter liver failure from starvation.
We decided to go ahead with the surgery, which was scheduled for the next morning. We took him home that night for lots of cuddles – lapped up our affection all night. He was so happy to be back in his familiar environment, and our other cat also made it clear she was thrilled he was home.
Taking him to the vet the next morning was a tense affair. After finally being home, he wanted nothing to do with his cat carrier and let us know it. Three hours later I got a call from the vet – he’d done very well in surgery and was waking up comfortably! They had a new diagnosis based on the state of his liver and gall-bladder: feline triaditis. While they did take a couple biopsies, they were pretty confident we were on the right track. They said the prognosis was good but the at-home care would be intensive; not only were we responsible for his calorie intake through the feeding tube until he began to eat again, but there were also five medications that needed to be given once or twice a day. They still hadn’t found a source for the anemia, but hoped it would recoup with everything else.
We were thrilled to bring him home and dedicated to getting him back up to health. His food was specially prepared each day and given to him 4-5 times daily. He had to be quarantined from our other cat and dog for a while, so he was confined to the spare bedroom. Within three days, he was starting to eat on his own and was feisty enough to try and escape to the rest of the apartment whenever I opened the door. His stitches were healing well, and we got a onesie for him to wear instead of the hated cone (not that he liked it much better). The vet checked in that Monday, and was almost as excited as I was to hear how well he was doing. We started letting him explore the rest of the apartment with Leira and Kenai when we were home to monitor him, so he got more stimulation and got to hang out in all his favorite spots. Everything was looking up.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last. On Friday (the 22nd) I noticed that his eating was declining. We had just gotten him up to full calories through the feeding tube, so I figured it would take a while for his appetite to surpass what we were giving him. However, his appetite didn’t pick back up, and he began showing increased signs of nausea when I fed him. He also felt unusually warm. On Monday I called the vet, and left a message asking if this was normal recovery behavior. I spent the afternoon at home with him, waiting for the vet to call. They didn’t, so I called and asked again that evening – this time someone went back to talk to the vet in person. We were advised to take him to ER.
We went back to the ER where he had been hospitalized just ten days before. After a quick physical exam (where we saw he had lost even more weight, and he was feverish), they took him back for more bloodwork. He was extraordinarily anemic – his red blood cell count had decreased by half from its previous low levels. We could take him to a clinic that could do a blood transfusion – the nearest one was an hour away by car, and he’d have to stay there for at least 24 hours to make sure his body didn’t reject the blood. And since we didn’t know what was causing the anemia, it was likely the transfusion would only buy us a little time.
The next diagnostic step would be to test a sample of his bone marrow, a process that would involve putting him under anesthesia. There were three main suspects for his anemia at this point: a virus attacking his red blood cells and/or bone marrow, an autoimmune disorder (his body attacking his red blood cells), or cancer. We were advised that was a toss of the dice whether or not it was something treatable; even if it was, it would be extremely intensive and difficult for him.
We took some time to hold him close and think about our options. His options. For the last few weeks (and the last four years) we had discussed always trying to do what was best for him. And as he fell asleep in my arms, that most difficult choice became clear.
The vet told us we could take him home overnight if we wanted, but it we weren’t going to do a transfusion we should bring him back within 24 hours to put him to sleep. I didn’t want him to go through two more car rides (his most hated activity) and what would clearly be a painful and stressful night – we decided it would be best to let him go peacefully that night. He’d had a good day cuddling on the couch with me, Leira, and Kenai (one of the rare times I actually got a picture of him and the dog together). Luis and I held him for at least an hour, telling him we loved him and soaking in his sweetness. Finally we knew we couldn’t delay any longer. Luis held me and I held Shadow as the vet administered the anesthesia, lulling him into sleep for the last time.
Shadow was so much more than we ever could have expected. I’ll never be able to describe him adequately, or what he meant to us. We will miss him forever, and cherish the time we did get to spend with him.
Marion Lavorre: *is a loving mother to Jester, steps out of the Chateau despite her phobias to bid her farewell, kisses her forehead and gives her a parting gift to remember her by before warning the M9 to better watch after her little girl*
The Mighty Nein:
*is worried about his family’s whereabouts after they left one by one months ago*
*was rejected and disinherited by her parents because they got a better “replacement” heir when she didn’t meet their expectations*
*biggest regret is killing his loving parents*
*an actual MOTHER who hasn’t seen her child in months*
*an orphan longing for any kind of family and acceptance still mourning the apparent loss of his only father figure*
