#Josiah reckons

[josiahreckons]

Sabbath Speeches: Authenticity

This talk was delivered in a sacrament meeting in the Summer Hill Ward, in Palmerston North, New Zealand on the 10th of March 2024. ‘To thine own self be true’, is a line from Shakespeare’s play, Hamlet. It is spoken by a man giving his son advice. The sentiment has become very popular. Be true to yourself, we say. Intuitively, it feels like a good thing. Sometimes it’s hard to even pin down who…

[intheholler]

yet another queer from the appalachians (the foothills down in 'bama, but still!) just chiming in to thank you for this blog. I ran away from that area over a decade ago now and have been missing it sorely. by chance, do you have any recs for good youtube channels, books, or other things about/by folks from the appalachians?

appalachian alabama what's up!!

i so have some recs!

okay first up is adeem the artist who is uncomfortably underrated so i'm gonna say a little more on them. they're a nonbinary pansexual musician from eastern tn and they make amazing folk country that is commentary on appalachian culture, and their experiences growing up here. some fav songs of mine are asheville blues, i never came out, and my personal favorite 'fuck you' to modern country for exploiting our culture, i wish you would have been a cowboy

josiah and the bonnevilles are another favorite a friend put me onto. "i am appalachia" makes me cry and i'll admit that openly. will always always rec crooked still for their appalachian folk covers/murder ballad covers. literally every song. just all of them

as for books: imo the big three. what you are getting wrong about appalachia by elizabeth catte is a must read. appalachian reckoning: a region responds to hillbilly elegy is another, and hill women by cassie chambers

in a sea of SpOoKy ApPaLaChIa bullshit on tiktok, there is one appalachian account that i delight in the most. andiemarire is a gem

there's just from the top of my head though (which is very shallow these days, as yall may tell by my absence). pls reblog if y'all have more!

[crovvlipso]

MC - Agatha Crowley sheet

Information under the cut!

Basic Information

Full name: Agatha Chandra Crowley

Nickname: Ag, Aggie

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

MBTI: ESTP

Species: Human

Date of birth: 18th June 1875

Nationality: British (British/Trinidadian/Siamese)

Blood status: Pure-blood/Half-blood (unclear)

Wand: Redwood wood with a dragon heartstring core 10 ¼" and quite bendy flexibility

House: Slytherin

Patronus: Dragon

Boggart: [LOCKED]

Amortentia: Burnt wood, Chocolate, Gasoline

Appearance

Hair colour: Platinum white

Hairstyle: Short soft curls

Eye colour: Magenta 

Skin tone: Medium-dark skin with yellow-golden undertones

Height: (unclear) 3cm shorter than Sebastian

Weight: 60kg

Other distinguishing features: Two moles under the bottom lip, Fangs, Black nails polish

Personality 

Agatha is confident and ambitious despite feeling neglected by her family and has developed a strong sense of self-worth. She's rebellious and doesn't conform to traditional gender roles, preferring to dress and act in a way that makes her feel comfortable rather than trying to please others. She can come across as cocky and sarcastic at times, partly because of her family's wealth and status, but also as a defense mechanism developed from her experiences with bullying.

While Agatha can be sarcastic and biting in her humour, she's also fiercely loyal to those she cares about and will go to great lengths to protect them. Her experiences with bullying have made her somewhat hostile towards those she perceives as a threat, but she's not inherently violent or cruel. She values intelligence and cunning.

Traits: Chaotic, Cocky, Charismatic, Sarcastic, Barbaric

Likes: Dragons, Insects, Leeches, Forbidden Knowledge

Dislikes: Milk in tea, Skirts

Good at: Martial arts, Animal Handling, Intimidating, 

Bad at: Showing true emotions and Affection, Persuade

Hobbies: Bug collector, Quidditch for fun(played as Beater), Drawing

Fears: Become nobody, Her father

Ambition: Domesticated Dragons

Family & Backstory

Agatha Crowley was born into a wealthy and prestigious pure-blood family known for their diplomatic skills and trading. Her father always wanted a son to carry on the family name and legacy, but instead, he was disappointed to have a daughter. As a result, Agatha was neglected by her father and most of her extended family. Only her mother showed her affection and attention, taking care of her and even allowing her to play with muggle children in their neighborhood.

Agatha's childhood was rough due to her family's neglect and the bullying she experienced from muggle children because of her unnatural hair and eye color. To cope, she became rebellious and defiant, refusing to wear skirts and acting more like a boy to try and please her father.

Despite not showing any signs of magical ability, Agatha's maternal grandfather, a Siamese man who was skilled in Muay Thai, taught her martial arts from a young age. Agatha fell in love with the discipline and art of fighting and trained vigorously with her grandfather.

At the age of 15 Agatha's magical abilities finally awakened, and she received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, Though she possessed traits of a Gryffindor, her ambitious nature led her to be sorted into Slytherin, much to her family's relief.

In Hogwarts, Agatha's skills in martial arts proved to be an asset in her studies, especially in Defense Against the Dark Arts. However, her troubled past and lack of parental guidance caused her to develop a rude, sarcastic, and mean personality, often pushing people away with her hostile behavior.

Despite this, Agatha remained fearless and savage, always ready to fight for what she believed in, and became a force to be reckoned with in both academics and combat.

Father: Josiah Crowley

Mother: Chandra *Thai people still haven't had a last name back then*

Paternal grandparents: Victarion Crowley and Calypso Lovegood

Maternal grandparents: Narong, -

Uncles: Bran Crowley (Josiah’s brother), Edward Crowley(other brothers)

Aunts: Alannis (Crowley) Sanchez

Cousins: Isis Crowley(Bran’s daughter), Rose Sanchez, Jason Sanchez (Alannis’s children), Ramsay Crowley, Victarion II Crowley, Aretha Crowley (Edward’s children)

Pet: Bunch of unnamed insects, two leeches name Robert and Henry

Family home: London, Wandsworth

Relationships 

Friends: Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt, Giona Regali(oc), Natsai Onai, Poppy Sweeting, other fifth years

Best Friends: Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt

Love interest: Sebastian Sallow click

Others

Headcanon CV: Robyn Addison

Character inspiration:

Rhaenyra Targaryen - House of The Dragon

Nanno - Girl from nowhere

Veronica Sawyer - Heathers 1988

Cruella De Vil - Cruella 2021

Jo March - Little Women 2019

Agatha Harkness - Wandavision

[mayhemchicken-varneyposting]

Varney the Vampire, Chapter 15: Shiver Me Timbers

[Previous chapter] [Next chapter]

While Henry and Marchdale are off visiting Varney, an expensive coach pulls up to an inn in a nearby town. The occupants, a grizzly old Navy admiral and his *ahem* valet, a sailor named Jack Pringle, enter the inn, demanding a private room and an audience with one Josiah Crinkles, a lawyer. These two old sailors spend pretty much the entire chapter, and indeed every moment of shared page time they get, arguing like an old married couple and talking in heavily exaggerated nautical slang.

The admiral, Bell, turns out to be Charles Holland's uncle, and he has a letter from Mr. Crinkles urging him to chase down his nephew at once and stop him from marrying into a family with a vampyre in it. Mr. Crinkles, after reading over said letter, tells Admiral Bell that he did not write the letter in question, and indeed he didn't even know the admiral had a nephew, let alone one connected with all this vampire business. The letter, then, is a forgery, penned by an unknown hand.

The two sailors insist on having a drink with Mr. Crinkles, and he offers to tell them what he knows of the whole affair, as well as some lore about vampires - specifically, that anyone who is bitten by a vampire will become one, including Charles' would-be bride. The admiral and Jack Pringle resolve to find Charles and the Bannerworths and learn the truth, and fight the vampire too if it comes down to it.

Ladies and gentlemen, the comic relief has arrived.

The chapter opens with a quite lengthy description of how gossip concerning the vampire attack has spread from the Bannerworth's servants to the whole surrounding countryside. We already knew this, of course, as Henry found out when he went to see Chillingworth, but the author reminds us anyway, at length.

There, it seemed as if the lovers of the horrible made a point of holding their head quarters, and so thirsty did the numerous discussions make the guests, that the landlord was heard to declare that he, from his heart, really considered a vampyre as very nearly equal to a contested election.

I will grant this line is pretty funny.

We are now introduced to Admiral Bell and his rascally sidekick Jack Pringle, who are one thrown bottle away from divorce at all times. These two men are so nautical it is physically painful.

He was attired in ample and expensive clothing, but every article had a naval animus about it, if we may be allowed such an expression with regard to clothing.

The author spontaneously decides his story is set in the Regency period; Admiral Bell is described as wearing "the undress naval uniform of an officer of high rank some fifty or sixty years ago", and Jack Pringle makes the following observation about the inn they've arrived at:

"They call this the Nelson's Arms; and you know, shiver me, that for the best half of his life he had but one."

Nelson, for the record, died in 1805.

To give an idea of the sort of nautical tomfoolery I had to slog through for this chapter, I will reproduce a small sample of dialogue; imagine, if you will, pages and pages of this bullshit.

"Heave to!" he then shouted to the postilion, who was about to drive the chaise into the yard. "Heave to, you lubberly son of a gun! we don't want to go into dock."

"Ah!" said the old man, "let's get out, Jack. This is the port; and, do you hear, and be cursed to you, let's have no swearing, d—n you, nor bad language, you lazy swab."

"Aye, aye," cried Jack; "I've not been ashore now a matter o' ten years, and not larnt a little shore-going politeness, admiral, I ain't been your walley de sham without larning a little about land reckonings. Nobody would take me for a sailor now, I'm thinking, admiral."

"Hold your noise!"

"Aye, aye, sir."

At least it's funny for now; the constant arguing between these two starts to wear on the nerves as the story goes on.

Jack Pringle namedrops Charles, although it's not confirmed until later in the chapter that he refers to Charles Holland.

"Well, but where's Master Charles? Lawyers, in course, sir, is all blessed rogues; but, howsomdever, he may have for once in his life this here one of 'em have told us of the right channel, and if so be as he has, don't be the Yankee to leave him among the pirates. I'm ashamed on you."

There's a lot of lawyer-bashing in this chapter.

Mr. Crinkles (don't you love how there's two different characters introduced in this chapter that are named after potato chips) reminds me of Discworld's A. E. Pessimal, minus the surprise bloodlust. A "very conversible, nice, gentlemanly little man", he contrasts amusingly with the two rambunctious sailors.

"So you are Crinkles, are you?" cried the admiral. "Sit down, though you are a lawyer."

"Thank you, sir. I am an attorney, certainly, and my name as certainly is Crinkles."

"Look at that."

The admiral placed the letter in the little lawyer's hands, who said,—

"Am I to read it?"

"Yes, to be sure."

"Aloud?"

"Read it to the devil, if you like, in a pig's whisper, or a West India hurricane."

"Oh, very good, sir. I—I am willing to be agreeable, so I'll read it aloud, if it's all the same to you."

The letter, besides warning Admiral Bell of Charles Holland's imminent decision to marry A Vampyre, contains a "definition" of vampires which is bafflingly unhelpful:

"P.S. I enclose you Dr. Johnson's definition of a vampyre, which is as follows:

"VAMPYRE (a German blood-sucker)—by which you perceive how many vampyres, from time immemorial, must have been well entertained at the expense of John Bull, at the court of St. James, where no thing hardly is to be met with but German blood-suckers."

Mr. Crinkles, as it turns out, has never seen this letter in his life. Who wrote it, then, is and remains a mystery; the authorship of this letter never comes up again in the text. I mean, it was probably Varney, but that's never confirmed.

Admiral Bell and Jack Pringle seem to have a very shaky grasp on what a vampire is; evidently Dr. Johnson's definition was not helpful.

"Shiver my timbers, if I knows what a wamphigher is, unless he's some distant relation to Davy Jones!"

"The vampyre!"

"Ah! I always forget the names of strange fish. I suppose, after all, it's something of the mermaid order?"

Mr. Crinkles provides an astonishingly detailed account of the vampire attack on Flora, and repeats the idea that all victims of vampire attacks become vampires themselves. Jack Pringle accidentally hits on the reason why in vampire stories this is usually not the case:

"Whew!" whistled Jack; "she might bite us all, and we should be a whole ship's crew o' wamphighers. There would be a confounded go!"

If vampirism has a 100% transmission rate, the vampire population grows exponentially. We will eventually learn more about how vampirism actually spreads in this story; for now, as far as anybody knows, Flora is set to become a vampire after death.

At the end of the chapter, Jack refers to Charles as "our nevy", which I will point to as evidence that he is, in fact, more than a valet. (These aren't the only gay sailors Rymer has written, either. Ask me about the background gay couple in The String of Pearls/Sweeney Todd.)

Next: The worst romantic dialogue I have ever read in my life

[dailyanarchistposts]

Section II: Labor

We reckon loyalty in general a good thing, even a fine thing — loyalty to country or faith, to school or University, even to your business firm or cricket club. Is it not even more clearly a fine thing, this loyalty to something less obvious, more ideal — the conception of the welfare of the great majority that earn their living under wage conditions? -- L.F. Giblin [895]

In this section, I have one contention and one contention only: that labor is the only producer of wealth — there is no wealth that requires some labor to produce it. Not all labor, though, produces wealth, just as a man can labor in his recreations and hobbies, sometimes producing little more than the sweat on his back — such as in sports. But, there is no wealth that exists without labor. One may argue that naturally growing fruit isn’t requiring of labor to produce it, but labor is required to reap it, just like iron ore and coal aren’t created by labor though they are harvested with labor. By labor, I am defining any activity that uses exertion, mental or physical, to specifically accomplish something. The definition of wealth is a bit more complex: it comes in the form of goods or services, the first capable of storage and the second not. Wealth may be defined as something useful that serves some purpose, or that may be traded for something that also serves a useful purpose.

In 1662, William Petty, one of the earliest economists, wrote, “forasmuch as both Ships and Garments were the creatures of Lands and mens Labours thereupon; This being true, we should be glad to finde out a natural Par between Land and Labour, so as we might express the value by either of them alone as well or better then by both, and reduce pence into pounds.” [896] In a much more brief statement, he writes, “...Labour is the Father and active principle of Wealth...” [897] In 1668, Josiah Child writes...

To conclude, It is (I think) agreed on by all, That Merchants, Artificers, Farmers of Land, and such as depend on them (which for brevity-sake we may here include under one of these general terms) viz. Seamen, Fishermen, Breeders of Cattel, Gardners, etc. are the three sorts of People which by their study and labour do principally, if not onely, bring in Wealth to a Nation from abroad... [898]

In 1691, Dudley North writes in his discourse, “Commerce and Trade, as hath been said, first springs from the Labour of Man...” [899] Elsewhere, he said, “In process of time, if the People apply themselves industriously, they will not only be supplied, but advance to a great overplus of Forreign Goods, which improv’d, will enlarge their Trade.” [900] In 1720, the field of economics would still be undeveloped, but trade would not go unstudied. Isaac Gervaise would write, “...all that is necessary or useful to Men, is the Produce of their Labour...” [901] Elsewhere, he writes, “...Labour is the Foundation of Trade...” [902] In a longer section, he writes more...

God made Man for Labour, so not thing in this World is of any solid or durable Worth, but what is the Produce of Labour; and whatever else bears a Denomination of Value, is only a Shadow without Substance, which must either be wrought for, or vanish to its primitive Nothing, the greatest Power on Earth not being able to create any thing out of nothing. [903]

In the mid-1700’s, the world would experience an enlightenment, as philosophers were born to question the authority of tradition. David Hume would write in this time, “Every thing in the world is purchased by labour...” [904] In another manuscript, he writes, “...if the former kingdom has received any encrease of riches, can it reasonably be accounted for by any thing but the encrease of its art and industry?” [905] In 1767, a cornerstone of economics would be reached with one of the biggest volumes being written: “An Inquiry into the Principles of Political Economy,” by James Steuart years before Adam Smith would make his debut in the field of economics. The first book of Steuart is full of statements that agree with the idea that labor is the creator of wealth. He writes, “Did the earth produce of itself the proper nourishment for man with unlimited abundance, we should find no occasion to labour in order to procure it.” [906] Elsewhere, too: “...food cannot, in general, be found, but by labour...” [907] — “...man be made to labour, and make the earth produce abundantly...” [908] — “...wealth never can come in but by the produce of labour going out...” [909] — “....industry which makes the fortune.” [910] And, finally, “We may live without many things, but not without the labour of our husbandmen [farmers].” [911]

In 1815, J.C.L. Simonde de Sismonde would produce a lengthy book on economics, or political economy as it was known in that era. He would write, “His [mankind’s] wealth originates in this industry...” [912] In another part, he writes, “All that man values is created by his industry...” [913] and “...labour alone has created all kinds of wealth.” [914] Summing up the field of economics, he writes, “The history of wealth is, in all cases, comprised within the limits now specified — the labour which creates, the economy which accumulates, the consumption which destroys.” [915] On capital production, his opinion is similar: “The ore cannot be obtained till the mine is opened; canals must be dug, machinery and mills must be constructed, before they can be used; manufactories must be built, and looms set up, before the wool, the hemp, or the silk can be weaved. This first advance is always accomplished by labour...” [916] He still writes, “...it may be generally affirmed, that to increase the labour is to increase the wealth...” [917] and “...the labour of man created wealth...” [918] This book would be written only some decades after Adam Smith’s work, and more decades after Steuart’s. Simonde de Sismonde was following in the same tradition of economists: when he looked at society, he realized one particular fact, that wealth is produced by the labor of laborers. In chapter 4 of his book, he writes, “By labour man drew his first wealth from the earth...” [919] He writes further: “...the revenue which he [the worker] expects and has to live upon springs from the labour which he causes to be executed...” [920] — “Income...springs from labour...” [921] — “...all wealth proceeds from labour...” [922] — “We have recognised but a single source of wealth, which is labour...” [923] — “...those who labour and who should create every kind of wealth...” [924] — “New wealth, however, must spring from labour and industry.” [925] And, finally, in the last chapter, “...labour, the cause of production...” [926]

The 1800’s would also bring thinkers who would oppose the ideas of Capitalism, referring to them as a form of exploitation. Robert Owen was one of these, and in 1816 he would write, “...know that revenue has but one legitimate source that it is derived directly or indirectly from the labour of man...” [927] In 1825, Thomas Hodgskin would make an appeal in defense of labor, in perhaps one of the earliest pamphlets defending workers. Though he made no support of the system of Communism (which at that time did not exist, and Socialism was but merely developing), he did sympathize greatly with the worker, and stated simply that the worker ought to receive the wealth he creates. It was in this pamphlet that Hodgskin writes, “...all the benefits attributed to capital arise from co-existing and skilled labour.” [928] — “...by their [labourers’] exertions all the wealth of society is produced...” [929] — “The labourer, the real maker of any commodity...” [930] — “...all the effects usually attributed to accumulation of circulating capital are derived from the accumulation and storing up of skilled labour...” [931] — “...those vast improvements in the condition of the human race, which have been in general attributed to capital, are caused in fact by labour...” [932] Finally, in one section, he writes, “It is labour which produces all things as they are wanted, and the only thing which can be said to be stored up or previously prepared is the skill of the labourer. If the skill of the baker, butcher, grazier, tailor, weaver, etc., was not previously created and stored up, the commodities which each of them purchases could not be obtained; but where that skill exists, these commodities may always be procured when wanted.” [933]

In 1830, Nassau Senior would give a speech on improving the conditions of the working class, though he himself was an economist and was quite detached from this group whom he sympathized with. He spoke, “...the labourers form the strength of the country.” [934] T.E. Cliffe Leslie was an economist whose articles swim around aimlessly in the journals of the 1800’s. In 1875, he would write, “[Martin] Luther preached the same doctrine, and moreover anticipated Adam Smith’s proposition, that labour is the measure of value.” [935] The following year, Robert Green Ingersoll would give a speech celebrating the one hundredth year anniversary of the United States, the centennial oration. In it, he said to his audience, “The great body of the people make all the money; do all the work. They plow the land, cut down the forests; they produce everything that is produced. Then who shall say what shall be done with what is produced except the producer?” [936] Also in the year of 1876, between May and June, Friedrich Engels would write in an incomplete essay, “Labour is the source of all wealth, the political economists assert. And it really is the source...” [937] In 1877, Robert Green Ingersoll would be seen defending the rights of the working class, working to get an eight hour work day as a law. He would say to a crowd, “...the time must come when they who do the work — they who make the money — will insist on having some of the profits.” [938] and, “All my sympathies are on the side of those who toil — of those who produce the real wealth of the world — of those who carry the burdens of mankind.” [939] In a journal article published in the 1898 to 1899 volume, Thorstein Veblen (the acclaimed sociologist) would write, “...the goods [are] produced by labor...” [940]

There should be no doubt that wealth is produced by the act of labor. In the previous chapters, I have shown how great the Capitalist has pushed the worker to produce. In the 1800’s and the 1900’s, working more than ten hours a day was common, and it is still commonplace today for the majority of the globe’s workforce, even a great part of the Western world. The reason why a Capitalist would desire his worker to labor harder and longer is because labor produces wealth, which the Capitalist keeps, and then trades with other Capitalists for his needs. In the second chapter, I detailed how every person has desires and that they reasonably respond to these desires. It is an inherent desire in every person to have what they need to live, and maybe even excess of that. Capitalists reasonably respond to this desire by forcing pushing their workers to work as hard as they can for as long as they can. Why? Because labor produces wealth. This fact is realized even more with the theory of labor unions: workers organize and threaten to not work unless their demands are met. The reason why Capitalists give in to such demands is because they need labor to produce wealth.

Some may argue, though, that Capitalists do labor, and that because of this labor, there is wealth. I find this theory highly contestable, and I find that it can be debunked with a small scenario. Take every Capitalist, whether in the form of a master of stocks and trade, or a CEO of a highly respected firm, and then put them on a bountiful island, an island rich with mineral deposits, exotic and valuable plants, and then ask these Capitalists to produce wealth. They will produce not a single iota of wealth, nothing of value or purpose. One may inquire, “But the Capitalists may harvest the plants and dig up the mineral ores, and refine these natural resources even more,” — but, once a Capitalist does that, he becomes a laborer, and in fact proves my point: labor is the only producer of wealth. Is it true, then, that Capitalists do no labor? Capitalists actually do labor, but it is a non-productive labor. Perhaps it is efficiently organizing a group of laborers to produce, though experience would prove that laborers are more familiar with their work than Capitalists. While a Capitalist does this, he may find some way to cheat his workers out of two hours of overtime pay, and he may convince them to alter their plans of production, so that the commodity he sells breaks down in a matter of two years, require return business. Whatever the case, the labor that a Capitalist does is non productive, much like a recreation or a hobby’s labor. To quote Bakunin, “Speculation and exploitation no doubt also constitute a sort of labor, but altogether non-productive labor.” [941]

[whumpiary]

🥇 Pick one aspect of your story that you are particularly fond of. Anything at all. and

🧿 Whether you actually get there or not, what are your hopes for your OC's future? !! -wildfaewhump

Oh my these answers got long. Putting them under the cut!

🥇 Pick one aspect of your story that you are particularly fond of. Anything at all.

I am fond of the lore around supernatural abilities that I have! Even if its more... implicit and implied rather than ever explored outright lol. Maybe one day.

The first ideas spawned from two places: a) the concept of empathy being like... a positive evolutionary trait. And then following the thread of okay, so if empathy is a step forward in evolution, then what happens when that steps forward, or when other "gut feeling" things step forward, or mutate, or spin out of control. And, b) a slightly reactionary thing to when people go "neurodivergence is a superpower!" "survivor instincts are a superpower!". Because like... no, lol, but also if those things were like a superpower, would it actually help anyone? Could you actually do anything with a superpower if you're already disenfranchised, locked out from support, isolated from community?

Cass can feel what people want (see: fawn response on steroids) and even change what they want and control, but does that actually help him to find care and connection? Does that actually get him what he wants? Lou is hyper aware of the emotions of people around her (see: hyper empathy in ND people), and even trace and manipulate memories through those emotions, but does that help her understand people or does it just make her frustrated and cold because connecting with anyone is overwhelming? Harley can (kind of) predict the future, (and don't autism and trauma backgrounds both make us so so good at predicting patterns), but does that actually help them to lift themself out of the situation they're stuck in, or does it just leave them bracing for impact and frozen?

I think it's interesting conceptually, crunchy in pratice, and I fuckin' love chewing on it. Would hate to ever actually explore it in the text itself lmao, but I'm really proud of it as a take on supernatural abilities and how they might manifest and intersect with the way we know brains do things in our world.

-

🧿 Whether you actually get there or not, what are your hopes for your OC's future?

I've said a few things about this before but I have a relatively clear vision of (at least) Cass and Josiah's future! Cass ends up working in early childhood education (pre-school age). I kinda like the idea of him maybe getting into some volunteer advocacy work at some point, because he figures out its a constructive place for his anger and sense of injustice to go, but also maybe he just runs one of those like rage yoga classes for kids.

This happens before present timeline, but is also one of those headcanon-y things that just never comes up: Josiah used the pay-off he got from the Facility to buy a small block of apartments* and gets an income from being a landlord, he lives on that during times it's hard for him to keep a day job down. Cass and him eventually live in the top floor apartment of that little block.

For a while, Josiah continues to do trade work, mostly as something to do during the day because he's never not worked, and he kind of likes laboring.

I like the idea of Cass coaxing Jos into making baking a full time thing. He wouldn't want to run the front of the shop but I can see him opening up a little cafe where he gets to bake his goods, maybe cook a few meals, and has someone chirpy in the front to deal with customers. I reckon he'd like that.

*(he got upset when he found out that Lou and Mal were being kicked from the place they loved because the landlord was selling and realised he had enough in the bank to make an offer, so he did and didn't tell them until like six months later.)

[catenaaurea]

David the king begat Solomon of her that had been the wife of Urias; and Solomon begat Roboam; and Roboam begat Abia; and Abia begat Asa; and Asa begat Josaphat. And Josaphat begat Joram; and Joram begat Ozias; and Ozias begat Joatham; and Joatham begat Achaz; and Achaz begat Ezekias; and Ezekias begat Manasses; and Manasses begat Amon; and Amon begat Josias; and Josias begat Jechonias and his brethren, about the time they were carried away to Babylon. (Matthew 1:6-11)

In the fourth book of Kings we read, that Ochozias was the son of Joram. On his death, Josabeth, sister of Ochozias and daughter of Joram, took Joash, her brother’s son, and preserved him from the slaughter of the royal seed by Athalias. To Joash succeeded his son Amasias; after him his son Azarias, who is called Ozias; after him his son Joatham. Thus you see according to historical truth there were three intervening kings, who are omitted by the Evangelist. Joram, moreover, begot not Ozias, but Ochozias, and the rest as we have related. But because it was the purpose of the Evangelist to make each of the three periods consist of fourteen generations, and because Joram had connected himself with Jezebel’s most impious race, therefore his posterity to the third generation is omitted in tracing the lineage of the holy birth. Otherwise, we may consider the first Jeconias to be the same as Joakim, and the second to be the son not the father, the one being spelt with k and m, the second by ch and n. This distinction has been confounded both by Greeks and Latins, by the fault of writers and the lapse of time.

Jerome

That there were two kings of the name of Joakim, is clear from the Book of Kings. And Joakim slept with his fathers, and Joachin his son reigned, in his stead. (2 Kings 24:6.) This son is the same whom Jeremiah calls Jeconias. And rightly did St. Matthew purpose to differ from the Prophet, because he sought to shew therein the great abundance of the Lord’s mercies. For the Lord did not seek among men nobility of race, but suitably chose to be born of captives and of sinners, as He came to preach remission of sin to the captives. The Evangelist therefore did not conceal either of these; but rather shewed them both, inasmuch as both were called Jeconias.

Ambrose

But the order in the Book of Kings (2 Kings 23.) is different, thus namely; Josias begot Eliakim, afterwards called Joakim; Joakim begot Jechonias. But Joakim is not reckoned among the Kings in the genealogy, because God’s people had not set him on the throne, but Pharaoh by his might. For if it were just that only for their intermixture with the race of Ahab, three kings should be shut out of the number in the genealogy, was it not just that Joakim should be likewise shut out, whom Pharaoh had set up as king by hostile force? And thus Jechonias, who is the son of Joakim, and the grandson of Josiah, is reckoned among the kings as the son of Josiah, in place of his father who is omitted.

Pseudo-Chrysostom

[gospelhotspot]

DCLM Daily Manna - Integrity And Society

DCLM Daily Manna 11 September 2024 Devotional By Pastor W. F. Kumuyi — “Integrity And Society” TOPIC: “Integrity And Society” (DCLM Daily Manna 11 September 2024) KEY VERSE: “Howbeit there was no reckoning made with them of the money that was delivered into their hand, because they dealt faithfully” – 2 Kings 22:7 TEXT: 2 Kings 22:1-7 (KJV) 1 Josiah was eight years old when he began to reign, and…

[lostwcnderlands]

it wasn’t a middle finger in the air, but it was a sign of something, anyway. a sign of life, at minimum. josiah sighed, able to visibly see bryce quake, reminding him of a burnt autumn leaf, all black && charred, somehow clinging to a branch. the suit was most certainly ruined - there would be complaints on that tomorrow, he reckoned. and it was about to be ruined more, as josiah decided to just take action && slide his arms under bryce, awkwardly lifting him && stumbling backwards slightly as he adjusted to his lengthy weight, trying to slow his own shivering enough to get a grip on him. “ you’re fuckin’ slippery, jesus christ—! “ josiah muttered, a grunt of stain in his chest as he struggled. the suit jacket alone had to weigh a dozen pounds, easily. regretful he hadn’t removed it, and feeling ridiculous with a grown man in his arms, josiah let bryce tumble carefully with a calculated fall back to the dock. after a solid minute of fiddling with the buttons, josiah gave up, removing a pocket knife from his back pocket && just cutting the suit off his body enough to leave it behind. he made an uncomfortably slow trek to his pickup. only nearly dropped him once, slipping in a patch of mud, straining a muscle in his back as he floundered to stay upright.

should’ve just gone home. it was the primary thought on josiah’s mind until they reached the truck, and he deposited bryce into the passenger seat. arms burning, he took in a fiery breath, and firmly shook bryce by the shoulders, trying to jog reality back into his brain. “ you’re tripping, man. it’s not real. “ josiah wished someone had told him during his cleansing. even if it was a lie - jesse was as real in his nightmares as he was in the waking daylight. whatever- whoever chatty was, they weren’t there. they were just a ghost.

one behind the wheel, josiah blasted the heat, air already warmer than their soaking skin, enjoying the blast of it even before the engine had warmed up. he only lived minutes away - but cringed with a grimace as he thought back to the vomiting a few minutes ago. “ you better not yak all over my interior. “ useless words for a blitzed out mind a hundred miles away. his apartment was only a couple minutes away- they’d go there, jesse never came by, no one ever did. it would be easy to hide. the wheels turned, slick in the wet gravel half-of-a-road but josiah kept a one-hand grip && expertly navigated the terrain. but he was not about to carry bryce again. " you're gonna have to get up, or you're sleeping where you're at tonight. hey - you hear me? "

His body aches from the effort of trying to get upright, but he knows if he doesn't move he is going to drown. The water will take him, and yet he can't seem to move his arms. The trembling won't stop, exhaustion dragging through him like cement. The ringing of the phone quiets another voice breaks through the grating noise, like popping coals on a beach fire.

Everyone is safe.

Chatty is safe is what he means, because that is everyone who matters. Bryce feels a part of him relax, his panicked mind finally allowing any other thought than treading water. He blinks, tasting mud on his tongue. There was no mud in Mexico, only salt water. Only wine and blood.

Bryce blinks, slow to register that he is not in water. He's wet, his suit is heavy and glued to him. He reaches for his tie yanking it down until it undoes itself. He doesn't try for the buttons, knows his frozen fingers won't be able to work with them.

Where is he? Louisiana? Why is he in Louisiana?

The world flashes a vibrant startling purple. He turns his head over the dock almost falling back into the water and vomits. His body convulses again, trying to reject something he didn't even ingest. He must have swallowed the water. He gas again, more acid and liquid and spits. His stomach aches, everything aches. One arm trails forward right above the sullied surface, but he can't bring himself to move it. He droops forward pressing his cheek to the wood. The spot on his chest throbs when he applies pressure but he can't bring himself to move, looking out into the water. He can see his house from here, bright massive, some windows lit.

[paidbychrist]

““Take a scroll and write on it all the words that I have spoken to you against Israel and Judah and all the nations, from the day I spoke to you, from the days of Josiah until today.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ��36‬:‭2‬ ‭RSV‬‬

““Take another scroll and write on it all the former words that were in the first scroll, which Jehoiakim the king of Judah has burned.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭36‬:‭28‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“King Zedekiah said, “Behold, he is in your hands; for the king can do nothing against you.””

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭38‬:‭5‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“But I will deliver you on that day, says the Lord, and you shall not be given into the hand of the men of whom you are afraid.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭39‬:‭17‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“that the Lord your God may show us the way we should go, and the thing that we should do.””

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭42‬:‭3‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“And do you seek great things for yourself? Seek them not; for behold, I am bringing evil upon all flesh, says the Lord; but I will give you your life as a prize of war in all places to which you may go.””

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭45‬:‭5‬ ‭RSV‬‬

L

“Yet I will restore the fortunes of Moab in the latter days, says the Lord.” Thus far is the judgment on Moab.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭48‬:‭47‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“The word of the Lord that came to Jeremiah the prophet concerning Elam, in the beginning of the reign of Zedekiah king of Judah.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭49‬:‭34‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“and I will set my throne in Elam, and destroy their king and princes, says the Lord. “But in the latter days I will restore the fortunes of Elam, says the Lord.””

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭49‬:‭38‬-‭39‬ ‭RSV‬‬

““The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.””

‭‭Lamentations‬ ‭3‬:‭24‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul that seeks him.”

‭‭Lamentations‬ ‭3‬:‭25‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“How the gold has grown dim, how the pure gold is changed! The holy stones lie scattered at the head of every street. The precious sons of Zion, worth their weight in fine gold, how they are reckoned as earthen pots, the work of a potter's hands!”

‭‭Lamentations‬ ‭4‬:‭1‬-‭2‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“And the hand of the Lord was there upon me; and he said to me, “Arise, go forth into the plain, and there I will speak with you.””

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭3‬:‭22‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“But when I speak with you, I will open your mouth, and you shall say to them, ‘Thus says the Lord God’; he that will hear, let him hear; and he that will refuse to hear, let him refuse; for they are a rebellious house.”

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭3‬:‭27‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“And the glory of the Lord went up from the cherubim to the threshold of the house; and the house was filled with the cloud, and the court was full of the brightness of the glory of the Lord.”

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭10‬:‭4‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“yet I will remember my covenant with you in the days of your youth, and I will establish with you an everlasting covenant.”

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭16‬:‭60‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“For I have no pleasure in the death of any one, says the Lord God; so turn, and live.””

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭18‬:‭32‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“So I led them out of the land of Egypt and brought them into the wilderness.”

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭20‬:‭10‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“and say, Thus says the Lord God: “Behold, I am against you, O Sidon, and I will manifest my glory in the midst of you. And they shall know that I am the Lord when I execute judgments in her, and manifest my holiness in her;”

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭28‬:‭22‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“And I, the Lord, will be their God, and my servant David shall be prince among them; I, the Lord, have spoken.”

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭34‬:‭24‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“And I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you in your own land; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken, and I have done it, says the Lord.””

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭37‬:‭14‬ ‭RSV‬‬

“My dwelling place shall be with them; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.”

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭37‬:‭27‬ ‭RSV‬‬

[josiahreckons]

Modernising the standard works with machine learning (part III): LDSBot

In part II, I used ChatGPT to modernise verses from the LDS standard works. ChatGPT is a fine-tuned GPT-3.5, trained using supervised learning and reinforcement learning. I recently read about LDSBot, an OpenAIAPI project that uses the ChatGPT-4 model. LDSBot is part of the Mormonr project by the B. H. Roberts Foundation. I wanted to see how LDSBot would modernise these…

[mazur5s]

oh fuckin' nora. he forgets that taron is like joss sometimes, which is probably why they get along so well -- really, they weren't too dissimilar to he and kayin in the way they'd come through together. huffing a deep sigh, jon scrubs his hands over his face and holds his palms out in mock surrender, " yeah, yeah. i did. and i regret it - at least you don't look unwell. " he tries a smile, tries to make himself smaller, " look. scary skipper bit out of the way now -- you just need to watch your tone a bit around here, " he goes to call him taz, the affectionate name used by josiah that is usually teamed with his face lighting up, " people talk an' it don't look good on you. 'specially if you're wantin' to head out to saudi someday. those lot're big on respect, yeah? " partly why jamie would not get an offer anytime soon after that particular interview. " do you reckon it's the chelsea effect? the bleach thing? "

Taron remembers coming up through Cobham at the same time Jon was. He remembers looking up to Jon Mazur and all of the U21 lads just as much as he looked up to Roy Kent. Look at them now. Hearing Jon call Stamford Bridge home makes something twinge in his chest. Because it is Jon's home, just as much as it is Taron's. Taron admires Hendo, he made the move that was best for him, which is why he keeps getting his England call. He's a talented player and a good man, in his mind, but hearing Jon - his captain - speak about him like that, and about Taron's supposed future like that, aches. "You had your bleach damaged years, too, Mazur. Maybe you're just jealous of me." He has appearances to keep up; that means not bowing as soon as he's approached read: threatened by Jon fucking Mazur.

[reddeadreference]

Americans At Rest

Bill starts a brawl in Smithfield’s Saloon in Valentine as Javier, Charles and Arthur attempt to charm to locals.

-Click here to return to the index for Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook-

Once the fight breaks out Javier is against one man, Charles against two, and Bill is against three.

Once we’re thrown through the window Bill, Charles, and Javier join us outside and watch the fight with the townspeople.

Journal Entry

Got into some god awful fight in the town saloon. Bill started it. He's wound so tight about something I reckon he'll start hitting himself soon enough. I was stopped from beating some big yokel to death by a local do-gooder. I could not tell if this made me pleased or real angry. The local crowd seemed to want to see BLOOD however.

Afterwards Dutch accosted me with old Josiah Trelawny, back and quite as slippery and confusing as ever.

He'll come and go again, no doubt and leave none us any the wiser as to who or what he is. Trelawny told us that Sean had not been killed in Blackwater, but was a prisoner there, held by scalp hunters awaiting payment. Charles Smith, Javier and I met in Blackwater and rescued that loud mouthed maniac. Before we'd even cut him free from the tree he was mouthing off at us. Javier said Blackwater is an impossible situation and I guess I had better forget about all that money. 

All them years wasted earning that stuff!

Guess I'll never quite know what happened, but the upshot is, we're on the run, and known to more folks in authority than we would like.

[calamity-bean]

...What would Josiah Hunt's OkCupid say tho

Sorry to leave you hanging on this one; first it took me a while to recover from the hilarity of such a notion, because this ask KO'd me instantly the first time I read it and kept making me die a little again every time I thought of it, and then I wanted to think of a creative way to respond but kept not having time. I figure I should probably just answer as best I can now.

At the end of the day I think the best thing I can say for Josiah here is that I don't think he'd be one of those guys who holds up a fish in his profile pic. Mirror selfie also feels unlikely, and definitely not one of the ones where the dude's pulling his shirt up to show his abs (like a HARLOT).

Unfortunately, though, this really leaves only one option for Josiah's profile pic, one I feel instinctively is what he would use: one of those grainy, non-smiling, badly lit, frown-faced mugshots taken from an unflatteringly low angle favored by middle-aged men who just snap a quick screenshot from their laptop's webcam and call it a day. You know the kind I'm talking about.... the dad profile pic.

As for the actual contents of his profile? Like what he'd write? ...I honestly cannot even imagine him filling one out. Then again, I reckon odds are good that the only way he'd wind up on a dating app in the first place is if Violet and Amelia created a profile for him behind his back (Amelia in a sincere attempt to help him find the right partner, Violet for the lulz).

Aw, but I'm probably being a bit too hard on dear Josiah. Sure, his pic's a bit stiff and awkward, and sure, his answers don't paint him as, uh, the most fun-loving sort, but look on the bright side! He'd always be a perfect gentleman in the chat, and you're never gonna get an unsolicited dick pic from this guy. I'd send a like!

[whumpiary]

Regarding one of your reblogs: Josiah finds out exactly what cass went through 👀👀👀

Oh man, I’d love to write this, Anon.

I’ve actually written a couple of drips and drops on this kinda vibe but I’ve never managed finished any of them. I’m always a bit… but how much should he find out and what specifics and what would be the worst possible way for some or all of this info to come to light that would create the most Problems. You know?

So I guess what I’m asking is uhh… what do you reckon Cass accidentally let slip while high one time?

[akselandrirodchenko]

˜”*°•.˜”*°• Aksel and Lina -Mother and son part 1 •°*”˜.•°*”˜

November 2021 - Seattle ballet rehearsal rooms

trigger warnings. emotional abuse, homophobia

Lina walked through the ballet hall and people moved out of her way. The woman was a force to be reckoned with. “ Where is my son?” She asked a dance instructor, an air of coldness radiated from her. The instructor pointed to the room where Aksel was rehearsing and she walked in. His coach saw Lina and smiled. “ leave us.” She said. “ Aksel we need lunch, wear your suit.” It was a demand not a request. Aksel got changed quickly and met his mother in the foyer. “ Zdravstvuy, mama “ He said as a form of greeting and hugged her  and she looked at him as if he was a stranger as her arms remained at her sides. “nam nuzhno pogovorit'” She responded and turned away. The moment she said they needed to talk, Aksel began to panic. He followed her to a private dining room in a nearby luxury hotel and once alone he looked at her, eyes filled with worry. “ Have I done something mama?” He asked and was greeted with a glare. “ You are a disgrace.” She hissed. “ Sit down.” Aksel knew this behaviour could escalate if he wasn't careful and quickly sat down. Silence filled the room as she calmed down and he waited for whatever was coming next “Akselandri  David Josiah Rodchenko you have bought shame on all of us.” Her voice was shaking with rage but she kept it quiet. “ Mama? what have I done?” he asked softly reaching his hand out to her which she ignored. There was a brief silence then she spoke. Two words that would forever haunt him . “ I know.” Aksel froze. “ I know what you do when I am not here.” She continued. “ Your abnormal lifestyle, your disgusting freakish, seedy sexual deviances.” Aksel felt sick, to him it was the most normal he had felt in years. “ If we were in Russia you would be locked up for your freakish behaviour or worse.” Aksel  felt pain at her words but tried to keep the room at peace. It was his job in the family to play the diplomat majority of the time so this wasn’t new.  “Mama. These are just rumours.” He said in a soft soothing voice  and then looked at her with a soft smile. “I am too busy working to fall in love with anyone at the moment” He lied as his mother didn’t look at him, but her hand reached for his as the waiters brought in the food.

“How is  Papa?” Aksel asked nervously, on tenterhooks of what she was capable of.  Lina sighed and looked at her son. The same ocean coloured eyes looked back at her. “ He fine. Russia is good for him. It is you I am concerned with. Should I move here so I can keep your from temptation?” She asked, for once her face showed a flicker of worry before turning stony cold again. “ Mama. Please. These are just rumours, pay no attention to them, I don't. I only like women,” He lied fluidly while inside his heart was breaking, needing the woman in front of him just to thaw enough to hold him and tell him everything would be ok, he wasn't straight. not remotely, but telling her was a danger which is wasn't ready for just yet. It seemed to quiet her worries and she broke into a rare genuine smile. “ Landri you are a good boy.  But  I worry about you here by yourself. Americans are not fond of our kind.” Calling him Landri was something Lina had called Aksel since he was a baby, he knew that he had won her over. “Mama I am thirty four and I have a good job in the ballet and run a successful business” He rationalised.” And I am raising my son to be a good boy.” He chuckled as a way the lighten the room. “ Good.” His mother said softly. “ Will Max be with you this week?” She asked as they finished their meal. “ Yes mama, he will be staying with me from Wednesday through to Saturday and then back to his mama while I work.” His mother smiled at the thought of her grandson, it was a tight, abnormal smile, something she rarely did and once the meal was over she stood. “mne zhal’ It was rare to get a sorry from her and he smiled holding her hand to his face. “ Its ok mama.” A reaction to ease the threat of another argument with the woman who was meant to love him. They walked outside and just as he was leaving to go back to rehearsals she turned to him “ I will see you in St Petersburg for Christmas....Let me down and I swear to the lord I will make you see a doctor for your  possible abnormal affection for men” She said in a low voice and then kissed his cheek and walked away, leaving Aksel standing alone outside the ballet hall, tears filled his eyes as he tried to comprehend what she had said, feeling the panic set in again he bolted into the bathroom. He slipped quietly into a cubicle and slid down the back of the door till he was on the floor crying holding his knees. Why was it the only person he wanted to love him, hated him so much.