Hyperfixated on Good Omens

this particularly works with anything negative i’ve forecasted. “i woke up feeling like shit today, so my day is gonna suck” isn’t a particularly helpful thought, but “it’s a great day to be alive!!!!!” feels hollow and insincere when i have a pounding headache & am running on three hours of sleep

instead i’ll tell myself, “i really don’t feel good right now, but i’m open to the possibility that coffee and breakfast might perk me up a bit.” or “i’m in a lot of pain today, but i’m open to the possibility that my workday might still have fun parts despite that”

A lot of high control groups use this tactic to isolate their members. It’s absolutely not just evangelizing Christians. New age wellness cults often encourage their members to make outlandish and offensive accusations regarding the mental and physical health of other people or their children, because they know that the backlash their members receive will reinforce the idea that the “mainstream” simply has no room for people who like crystals and essential oils. White supremacist cults will seed the vocabulary of new recruits with Nazi dog whistles that fly over those recruits heads, specifically so that they will get clocked as possible neo-Nazis and shunned by anyone who might offer them another perspective and help them to get out before it’s too late. And a lot of left-leaning political cults strongly encourage members to share their views in the most inflammatory ways possible, and then say “you see? everyone outside of this small circle is evil and cannot be relied on” when, inevitably, that produces bad results.

Sometimes I think that activists fall into these patterns completely accidentally, either because they were raised in culturally Christian evangelical environments and never unpacked it, or else because they just aren’t any good at approaching things in a non-inflammatory way and no one’s shown them how.

…But sometimes, these structures emerge in activist circles because those circles are legitimately becoming high control groups.

I think some things to watch out for especially in this regard are:

Are you being directed to behave in an extremely hostile and alienating way? (even if it’s by someone who you trust!)

Does the group you are in immediately shut down any conversation about the effectiveness of an antagonistic strategy? In particular, do they shut that conversation down using in-group stock phrases?

Is experiencing harsh rejection seen as something of a rite of passage?

Do you receive more validation from the group you are in after you have been rejected by someone outside the group than at any other time?

Have you ever been concerned that the antagonistic strategy you are using hurt someone you cared about, only to be quickly advised by members of the group that that person was toxic and that you should actually completely cut them out of your life?

These to me are all pretty significant red flags about the group in question, whatever the specific thing that brings people together there is. If you start noticing them in a group that you are a part of, be that an in-person activist circle or a Discord server or anything in between, take a step back and seriously consider the possibility that the good thing that you joined is turning into something different, and possibly dangerous.

Ok, I actually want to talk about this for a moment.

Jonestown, one of the most infamous cults in history, with a mass suicide / mass murder that left more than 900 people dead of cyanide poisoning, hundreds of whom were children… was a leftist political cult. That fact is an unambiguous and completely undebatable matter of historical record.

This isn’t a footnote in the story of Jonestown, and it isn’t a weird anti-leftist gotcha either. Jonestown attracted people to their cause with anti-segregation and anti-poverty activist work, and they did actual, meaningful good for those causes. The People’s Temple was a leftist org, unambiguously. They created mutual aid networks for food aid, and rent assistance, and job placement services, and clothing donations, and winter heating. They leaned heavily on the Indianapolis Human Rights Commission in order to push desegregation, and led sit-ins and boycotts and protests. They participated in significant voter registration efforts. They led the fight against the eviction of tenants from San Francisco's International Hotel.

People joined The People’s Temple because it was a good thing when they joined it. They didn’t start out as brainwashed cultists, and they didn’t gravitate towards the leadership of Jim Jones out of masochism, or inherent submissiveness, or a perverse love of creeping authoritarianism. They fell in line under Jim Jones because he’d built a community that was genuinely helping people, and was advancing a political cause that seemed worth fighting. They followed Jim Jones because he earned their trust.

Jim Jones then used the trust and the social capital that he had gained from all of the above in order to elevate himself to the status of a messianic figure, and abuse and profit off of his followers. Slowly but surely, he boiled the frog. It was all good – and then it was mostly good – and then, well there was some abuse, but it wasn’t that bad, and it wasn’t really his fault – and then there was a lot of abuse, but the outside world would destroy them if given the chance, so wasn’t it the lesser of the two evils? And then, eventually, it got so bad that hundreds of people poisoned themselves and their children at his command, and murdered everyone in the compound who refused and resisted.

Your cause of choice is not immune from abusers taking advantage of it!

It doesn’t matter if you’re right. It doesn’t matter if your cause is just. It does not matter if your good thing really is a good thing, because there is always the possibility that it will one day be co-opted by a monster. And if the fact that it started good is enough for you to ignore that gradual, subtle change, you could end up in a truly horrible situation.

One of my best friends in undergrad got sucked into a cult. Years later, we talked about it, and he told me something that I’ll never forget which is, it’s only when you look all the way back at things that they seem crazy. You start off with things that are totally normal and innocuous: “we’re stronger together”; “oppression is bad”; “you can accomplish more if you believe in yourself”; “empathy is important and we should all try to bring more of it into our lives”; etc. Then, you move to something that’s just a little step away from that. And then again. And then again. And then again. But it never feels like a big jump, because it’s not! A -> Z is crazy, but A -> B wasn’t, and B -> C wasn’t, and C -> D wasn’t, and…

This friend was smart, and rational, and independent, and normal, and by the time he and his wife left, they’d gone from just thinking that we should all practice more emotional mindfulness, to being terrified that leaving the cult and the cult leader would literally kill them, via the cult leader having magical powers.

If your only analysis is “Where I started was good, and no single step since then has been crazy” that is utterly insufficient to keep you safe.

I put together a relatively short survey (about two dozen questions, mostly multiple choice, all optional) to get some data on what fic lengths and completion statuses readers on AO3 prefer or avoid. If I get enough answers to have a good sample size, it should give us some insight into how people search and read on the archive.

If you find this interesting, feel free to share it with AO3 users elsewhere or post it to other platforms. I'd like to get a good crossection of readers that isn't biased by platform, if at all possible.

The survey is just for fun/curiosity, and isn't associated with any university, company, or other entity. It's just me asking you this stuff here :)

He is my favorite astronaut for any number of reasons, but he’s also one of my favorite visual artists.

Like, look at this stuff????

It’s all so expressive and textured and colorful! He literally painted his own experience on the moon! And that's just really fucking cool to me!

Just look at this! This is one of my absolute favorite emotions of all time. Is Anyone Out There? is like the ultimate reaction image. Any time I have an existential crisis, this is how I picture myself.

And then there's this one:

The Fantasy

For all of the six Apollo missions to land on the moon, there was no spare time. Every second of their time on the surface was budgeted to perfection: sleeping, eating, putting on the suits, entering and exiting the LEM, rock collection, setting up longterm experiments to transmit data back to Earth, everything. These timetables usually got screwed over by something, but for the most part the astronauts stuck to them.

The crew of Apollo 12 (Pete Conrad, Al Bean, and Dick Gordon) had other plans. Conrad and Bean had snuck a small camera with a timer into the LEM to take a couple pictures together on the moon throughout the mission. They had hidden the key for the timer in one of the rock collection bags, with the idea being to grab the key soon after landing, take some fun photos here and there, and then sneak the camera back to Earth to develop them. They had practiced where they would hide the key and how to get it out from under the collected rocks back on Earth dozens of times.

But when they got to the moon, the key was nowhere to be found. Al Bean spent precious time digging through the collection bags before he called it off. The camera had been pushing their luck anyways, he couldn't afford to spend anymore time not on the mission objectives. Conrad and Bean continued the mission as per the NASA plan while Dick Gordon orbited overhead.

Fast forward to the very end of the mission. Bean and Conrad are doing last checks of the LEM before they enter for the last time and depart from the moon. As Bean is stowing one of the collection bags, the camera key falls out. The unofficially planned photo time has come and gone, and he tosses the key over his shoulder to rest forever on the surface of the moon.

This painting, The Fantasy, is that moment. There have never been three people on the moon at the same time, there was never an unofficial photo shoot on the moon, this picture could never have happened.

"The most experienced astronaut was designated commander, in charge of all aspects of the mission, including flying the lunar module. Prudent thinking suggested that the next-most-experienced crew member be assigned to take care of the command module, since it was our only way back home. Pete had flown two Gemini flights, the second with Dick as his crewmate. This left the least experienced - me - to accompany the commander on the lunar surface.

"I was the rookie. I had not flown at all; yet I got the prize assignment. But not once during the three years of training which preceded our mission did Dick say that it wasn't fair and that he wished he could walk on the moon, too. I do not have his unwavering discipline or strength of character.

Almost made me cry right now.

Do you think it's possible to find a copy of it now ?

Thank you

If you're interested, you can download the printable files for the book here. However, these are just the components—you'll still need to assemble them yourself. If you decide to make it, I'd love to see it, so please share it with me!

NOT THE CRABS WE EXPECTED BUT STILL SOME CRABS WE DESERVE!!!

"“The prophecy didn’t mention water,” Aziraphale spoke. “Only fire.”

Smoke. Flames. Papers blackening, drifting in the air as ashes.

Crowley blinked, pulling himself out of the memories. The back of his throat hurt. “So?”

“I made my choice a long time ago.” 

Instead of trembling, Aziraphale was now terribly still. His breathing had evened out, his exhales slow and long. A sense of purpose had calmed him, but at his words, a sudden dread overtook Crowley, freezing him on the spot. 

“Even if I - if I refrained from admitting so. The world didn’t deserve to end. And neither do you, my dear. If my fate - the fire, the hellfire - if it’s been said - I am ready to face it if it means you might get to enjoy the world we’ve saved.”

Crowley blinked as Aziraphale’s watery smile came into focus. It was small and apologetic, but still sincere. He meant what he was saying.

No.

The demon’s body refused to cooperate. As the realization set in, he wanted to scream, hiss, curse the angel for even suggesting this very idea, but he remained quiet, terrified.

“I would burn,” the angel told him, but then Crowley had wrapped himself around him, muffling the final two words as his hand cupped the back of Aziraphale’s head, cradling him against his chest, “for you.”

He did, however, hear them, and his psyche stored them away somewhere deeper, somewhere safe to unpack later.

For now, he just held the angel and dared the world to try and take him away from him again.

“No, you won’t,” he hissed as a promise. There was no reflection to prove it, but he knew himself well enough to know that his eyes had turned completely yellow at the mere thought, of the image of Aziraphale surrounded by flames - 

It wouldn’t happen. Crowley wouldn’t let it happen. Then it didn’t matter what an old book said because Crowley wouldn’t break his promise. 

“The prophecy -”

“Says to play with fire, not to give up and walk right into it.” Crowley loosened his grip enough for Aziraphale to pull away so they could look at each other once more, teary-eyed and weary. “We’re not doing that. We’re not giving up. We’re not gonna make it any easier for them.” Crowley jabbed a finger at Aziraphale’s chest, ignoring how he winced. “Our side. We defend our side -”

“That’s what I aim to do!”

“Not like that.” Crowley barely resisted the urge to shake the angel in order to make him see reason. “I won’t let you. So stop being an idiot, and think of something else.”

It scared him more than he liked to admit, the stubborn look in Aziraphale’s eyes. It’d been stronger than mere resignation. Crowley had thought it to be from realization, and he’d been right, but where he’d been relieved at the hope of an escape plan, Aziraphale had found comfort in the option of self-sacrifice.

As if it was easy. As if it was the right thing to do.

A cold shiver ran down Crowley’s spine.

“I can’t,” Aziraphale cried, and he rocked back and forth in his grief. “I’ve tried! The whole trip back and - all I can think of is hellfire and holy water and you -” 

“And you,” Crowley reminded the angel of his own existence. “It’s you and me. If there’s hellfire involved, then there’ll be holy water too. We’re in this together. That means we’re going to have to be clever. Not self-sacrificial.”

“You - You said -”

“I know what I said, and I’m sorry.”

He’d thought - He’d thought he’d spoken his last words to Aziraphale. That the last thing he’d told the angel was a cruel lie.

When I'm off in the stars, I won't even think about you.

They could drown him in holy water, and Crowley’s last thought would always be Aziraphale.

“Don’t be,” Aziraphale told him softly, eyes filled with a thousand apologies. “I’ve been rather stupid for a while now.”

“Letting Heaven burn you is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.” Crowley barely managed to keep his voice from shaking. “So we’re not doing that.”"