#i love messy gods and messy religions and how black and white is easy until it starts bleeding into gray

[cain-e-brookman]

For your WBW question from my Eirenic Verses: the goddess Poesy ONLY works for Breme, not any other country. There are, in fact, other gods that work for other countries. And some countries have no gods, like the enemy country Sina.

It's not really explored in my series all that much (people would be bored to tears by theological quandries, and rightly so), but I think it's an intriguing concept.

The idea of a countrywide divine protection begets so many questions. If one immigrates to another country, do they still have protection? Or do they have to denounce their religion, as if renouncing citizenship? Can one be protected by two gods if one is a citizen of two countries? Do some immigrate to escape divine punishment, as one might flee to a country where there is no extradiction agreement with their homeland? If there are wars between countries, are there also wars between the gods?

Lots of things to ponder, and I have few answers as of yet lol

oh the questions posed are really interesting, though! and you may be talking to the wrong person because theological quandaries are my jam, so i would read the hell out of that lmao. someone fleeing divine punishment would be an interesting plot to explore

[zepdeans]

this is highkey like a month late (i mean wbk im a chronic scatterbrain procrastinator) and she’s thicccc but without further ado. my skam s4 thoughts.

I first just want to say a couple things: im not a muslim woc so my thoughts on s4 don’t hold as much value as those of a muslim, woc, or a muslim woc. I also don’t know to what degree sana’s representation was true to real life. I made an effort to look for posts from muslim woc on sana’s season but to no real avail, especially given it’s been two years since skam ended and a lot of blogs have deactivated, changed urls, or posts have become buried :( [if you know of any good posts regarding sana’s season please lmk!]. from what I can recall in 2017, there were mixed opinions on s4 with most being upset (or at least disappointed) with the ultimate execution of sana’s storyline and I agree w that. while s4 means so much to me and has a really special place in my heart, I do 100% acknowledge its flaws. ok!!!!!! lets get into it😤

ep1 -as much as I wished isak stayed in kollektivet I’m glad he and even had a rlly sweet happy time this entire season. also evak making their friends move all their furniture while they whisper romantic shit to each other and makeout? peak comedy -you fuckin wish!!! -sana is the one to say “of course you should tell noora about william”.. she Knew and still takes the fall for it :( -this opening clip is such a jarring shift into sana’s pov!! e.g. while easy to overlook in previous seasons, sana’s exclusion from the girls is glaringly obvious once we’re looking through her eyes -adding onto that! sana is the friend who notices everyone else- she’s so observant, which hurts even more when you notice her friends don’t do the same (except mayhaps chris- in my heart of hearts I know chris is also the friend who notices and goes unnoticed, but unfortunately we don’t get enough of her and sana’s relationship this season to fully see that) -yousef and the balloon squad’s entrance.... ICONIC! also I cant believe for 2 seasons they presented those dickbag nissen 97s as the be all end all of hot amazing boys when the bakka third years were RIGHT THERE like,, the penetrators vs. balloon squad + even? no contest ma’am -also! it’s so interesting that we literally had no idea sana had a brother, or that yousef etc existed until now? it’s as if she has a whole private world at home, separate from her friends and nissen (and I think a theme of this season is those two worlds merging) -im obsessed w the yousana train scene but yousef being the only one who notices sana standing off to the side? ;-; -fy faen is such a stunning clip oh my god. when sana leaves to pray? possibly my favourite skam scene ever. it’s exquisite.  -sana is so cute and awkward squeezing thru the crowd shsdhgfhshdf I LOVE her love her -the last shot on yousef and noora... oh my GOD oh my god bc like. being that friend who never ever tells your real feelings or your crushes or is vulnerable with your friends?? and then having to listen to them talk about how good your crush would be with someone else (especially one of ur friends) while ur sitting there silently dying inside? and you don’t say anything since you can’t be vulnerable with your friends and u don’t think u stand a chance anyways so. (in the words of s3 noora. I think sana struck a nerve with the emotional unavailability! abbey r u ok) -this episode is a masterpiece and did such a phenomenal job of both introducing us to sana’s perspective while also touching on a multitude of her struggles AND establishing the themes of the season. plus the cinematography, editing, soundtrack and aesthetic...... o baby. (case in point I deadass just rewatched it after writing this)

ep2 -every shot of sana praying is beautiful (and beautifully edited!!) -sana’s room is usually messy... not smart enough to fully analyze this but I’m sure it means something  -an interesting contrast of what’s expected of her vs. of elias- I can’t speak for muslim families, but I know even in non-muslim families girls are always held to suchhh a higher standard (source: I have 2 brothers rip) -”if you find immaturity charming” hilarious bc sana actually does in fact find immaturity charming  -what’s interesting is how noora comes across in sana’s POV- kinda obnoxious, kinda ignorant, seemingly perfect (compared to how noora is portrayed in eva’s season, for example) -even is one of those ppl who uses the bill gates argument on why dropping out of school makes u richer sdfhfsjskfjfsd -sana staring down the pepsi max squad. fuck em up. -vilde adding magnus to the groupchat jfkjsjfdjfsfsdkj -isak missing eskild :’) sidenote I fucking live for isak and sana’s chats this season. they’re literally my lifeblood like.... 

ep3 -the kiss me scene god I go FERAL -“you need to pull it towards you, not push it away. okay?” yall mind if i SCREAM!! YOUSEF!!!!!!!!!! -there rlly is something about seeing sana, who in everyone else’s POV comes off as cold and harsh and stoic, just absolutely meltinggg when she talks w yousef like she doesn’t stop smiling she’s so sweet!!!! ah🥰 and yousef is 100% that guy who ppl tell “your gf is so intimidating and ruthless bro” and he’s like are y’all talking about sana??????? my baby?? my fuckin cinnamon apple????? -yousef’s lil smile watching sana peel carrots. 911 it’s me again -vilde and sana’s relationship has a really interesting dynamic bc like.. vilde says ignorant shit to sana while also genuinely looking up to her. and sana is probably the harshest to vilde within the group but it’s because she actually values their friendship a lot  -IM HURT BECAUSE YOU NEVER REPLIED TO MY MEME -sana pulling 2yr old receipts off the top of her head to defend vilde. god I stan -sana doin research taking notes..... shameful she isn’t canonically a virgo (honestly her and isak both but like-) -she’s so soft and smiley w her mamma awh... “of course he likes you, who doesn’t like you?” her mamma only knows the real, gentle, beautiful loving sana oh im CRY -even is so kind and loving and thoughtful yall mind if i....... -”you can’t escape the internet girl” foreshadowing mayhaps?

ep4 -david and ulrikke together are fucking hilarious -noora’s “you’re lucky you don’t have to think about this stuff, heartbreak and that” :/ it’s not just vilde who says ignorant things to sana! -that being said sana and noora are cute asf in the exper5 scene.. dorky noora rise (omg josefine and her yogurt in the bloopers too sjhfkjdf) -I HANDLE BALLS BETTER THAN YOU -the yousana scene is sooo gorgeous whew...... -I always cry a lil bit (ok a lot) when yousef brings up even. and sana knew too. even sweetie ily :( -sana talking about her religion is beautiful. it’s so lovely to learn about how she thinks and sees the world. -yousef’s smile watching sana leave like ur kidding right....... -“flawless since 99″ is so cringey. it’s so cringeyyy -sana uses “smh” I knew we were soulmates

ep5 -eavesdropping on ur parent/brother’s argument is peak sibling culture -when ur always paranoid but ur always right..... -sana’s green jumpsuit sign me up babey -I really really really love elias and sana’s conversation -u dont even realize how tiny sana is until she’s standing next to isak and even -not finding out why yousef avoided the fight and why he kissed noora will haunt me forever (could we not have expanded more on that instead of noorhelm.......) -the parallel of sana washing isak’s blood off her hands vs. her washing her hands during maghrib in episode 1. gotta sit down. -vilde gossiping to the pepsimax girls stings SO bad it’s just such a betrayal?:( -“the other girls seem cool, especially noora! she’s so pretty!” ok much to unpack here but: sana again comparing herself to noora (who she sees as /perfect/)... sana being written off despite putting so much effort and passion into the russ bus while noora, who has done literally nothing and at best is indifferent to russ, is the one they like the most. disgusteng -love will tear us apart.. bitch..... -sana abt to cry god I can’t -if sana is anything like me (I mean I think she is but jkjjkhsdfhfsd). looking stupid is the absolute worst so like, her sending out emails abt being bus boss when she was actually being lied to? being played? and her being “paranoid” about sara being shady, but deciding hey maybe im just being crazy? except she wasn’t she was right and she Knew!! and she’s probably thinking how dumb it was for her to get her hopes up, everything always ends badly anyways and no one actually likes her :((((((( -dont rlly know what my feelings are on the fight. im not against it bc isak does have a temper but his apparent motive always seemed weak to me?? and god I feel so bad for even

ep6 -forgot about sana getting bullied in middle school yall mind if I sob?? -sana lying and getting defensive bc it’s hard to be vulnerable, or because she hates looking stupid? or both?:( -isak looking up dandelions in his textbook just bc even put one behind his ear. I HATE this man -sana’s dad asking if she had a bad day aw :( -all the boys (and sana) wearing black but yousef wearing white.... what does it mean.............. -the carrots are back goddammit -radio station playing during this scene: “if I have to choose between the just non-muslim and the unjust muslim, without any doubt I would choose the non-muslim who is just” -ISAK’S NOSE SFFJDFJFSDKJSDF -sana’s text about chris I’m going to bawl my eyes out.           “yeah! looking forward (to going to nissen) but a bit worried. don’t know               anyone else starting there.”           (J: new friends?) “yes, at least one of them. I have german with her (chris)           and she’s very cool!” -the contrast of how blunt sana came off when we’re first introduced to her vs. how she was really just excited to make a new friend bc she was scared no one would like her :( especially knowing her past with bullying and how nervous she was to start at nissen? chris baby I LOVE YOU thank u ;-; -also sana keeping 2yr old conversations on her phone... same -sana is honestly too smart and scheming and overthinking for her own good. she has these elaborate plans that more-or-less always get ruined by her being more kind than she gives herself credit for (e.g. wanting to protect vilde in s1, clearing isak’s name in s4) -everyone in skam texts back so fast smh -chris calling sana “sonic”...... a moment please -I cannot watch the sana/evak apartment scene without thinking of the bloopers and losing it lmfaoooo.. “this is where we live. just come in” -ik it’s based off fanart but there is little I hate more than their matching outfits  -“remember you’re both geniuses!” 🥺even  -once again isak studying is uhhhh me - “you’re a good person” yall i love isak i really do. he puts his foot in his mouth pretty often and doesn’t have a great brain-to-mouth filter and he can be awkward and rambly and blunt and unsure of what to say in emotional situations but also? he’s so genuine. it’s just his honest thoughts and he says it bc he cares about sana and knows she needs to hear it!! -ᶠᵃᵉⁿ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ -sana’s inner turmoil.. thank u iman for inventing acting (ik I haven’t mentioned it much yet but god iman is SUCH a phenomenal actor I owe her my life) -LETS GO BITCHES

ep7 -sana crying silently in her room breaks my fucking heart (IMAN!!!!)  -idk how I feel about the instagram plot but sana watching as her plan falls into place and then storming up to sara... pretty bada$$ -“it’s creepy it was published but it’s more creepy we have a bus boss who talks shit about everyone” THANK YOU vilde -i love s4 isak thanks -sana and jamilla’s chat aw :~) -how awkward do yall think the walk to the bench was lmfao -what sana tells isak is SO powerful and I love it a lot -isak does actually make a good point- the other girls are like that too.  -unfortunately I have been in situations isak describes, where you want to learn more about your friend’s culture or religion because you care about them and you’re genuinely interested, but you don’t know what questions are okay to ask and you don’t want to sound rude or ignorant, so you ultimately end up asking no questions at all. but I hate that the responsibility is put on sana to constantly educate people bc I cannot imagine how exhausting that must be [[[ok so. I know there are VERY mixed opinions on the bench scene but here’s my dumbass two cents. 1- I genuinely think isak was trying to make sana feel better by attempting to relate to her and pass on advice that really helped him. however, I don’t think isak realized what sana eventually told him- that her experience wearing the hijab is a lot different than isak’s experience as a gay man. do I agree with everything isak said? nooo. do I understand why he said it? yeah. 2- it was not isak’s place to tell sana norwegians aren’t racist, or not to look for racism in questions. I think there’s some truth to ppl often just being ignorant, and he does add that there are probably a lot of racist people in Norway, but yeah. not great. 3- in conclusion I think while isak shared some meaningful advice w sana, he put his foot in his mouth too and said some stupid shit. im not trying to defend that. I will add, though: a. we actually do see some growth on isak’s part. when he and even are yelled at on the street, that’s the moment it clicks for him that oh shit, this is what sana was talking about. this is what she has to experience? and that’s why he texts noora, “in the speech for sana, you have to include how insanely strong she is. I don’t think many people understand how much bullshit she has to take” and b. isak’s (bad) advice of “not looking for the racism in things” is ultimately contrasted by yousef (a moc who lived most of his life as a muslim) suggesting instead to show people what islam really is. and that’s so much more meaningful. I think the root of a lot of the issues isak brought up- i.e. ignorance- is a general lack of education, representation, or effort by non-muslim people to seek out information themselves. so sana leading by example and showing what it means to her to be muslim is so much more powerful.]]] -𝒃𝒂𝒎!  -BEST BUDS 🥺

ep8 -haper du har plass weaving in and out of this episode until the chorus finally breaks when the los losers van shows up...... miss julie 😭 -oh my god the pictures. im a fucking MESS bc they’re not only significant to the scene and to sana but also like,, as part of our goodbye to the girls?? -the balloon squad and even :( while the timeline of them reconciling within just this week is kinda wack, seeing even back with his friends looking so happy makes my heart uwu so i’ll allow it just this once -eva’s message to vilde about her and magnus being able to trust each other w/o reading their texts... growth or irony -chris is such a phenomenal friend (and this is why I wanted more of her in s4!!) -sana’s phonecall to the girls breaks my fucking heart bc like. right off the bat she’s finally being vulnerable with them?? telling them about her fears and insecurities and struggles? typing this im gonna start crying lol but god I love her so much. she’s so brave and she put all that on the line bc all she really cares about are her friends, she loves them SO much even if (she thinks) they don’t love her back -lowkey sobbed so hard during the haper du har plass clip I almost threw up and it gave me a headache :)  -anyways this is one of my favourite skam clips and god just. the moment you hear the girls calling for sana??? I LOSE it. when sana just starts BEAMING omg🤧 the girls love sana and support her and if you fuck with sana you fuck with us!!!!!! god. cannot articulate how dear to my heart this scene is. -haper du har plass feels like the end of the episode and the party clip is kinda just tacked on but I love how happy everyone is!! they’re all drinking champagne (who taught isak how to hold things) and dancing and smilingggg 💛 -yousana rise!!!!!!!!  -ok don’t get me wrong I hate william for crashing the party but their entrance slow-mo kinda slaps.... also sana popping up in between noorhelm SENDS me

ep9 -this is the point in the season where the amount of time dedicated to noorhelm is beyond beyond beyond significantly damaging to the story. this is sana’s last episode!! instead of having them makeout in front of william’s car for 20 minutes mayhaps we could’ve had a conversation between the girls and sana, or with her brother (if they had continued the elias alcoholism plotline rip), or maybe even with jamilla or her mamma? like I don’t care at ALL about noora or william. give me anything else. ple a s e -what makes skam scenes so brilliant is their quiet moments!! julie let the scene breathe. not everything needs a tacky song playing over top. -I’ve said this abt like twenty clips now but MAGHRIB. oh my GOD. an absolute masterpiece and definitely tied for my all time favourite skam clip. can’t rlly put into words how stunning it is. & I love sana and yousef’s conversation so much. -“of course I brought food! my name is yousef!” mr. acar you’re the only man I trust

ep10 -as much as my heart yearns for 10 sana episodes I think splitting up the last episode of skam into individual POV clips for different characters was brilliant and such a poignant way to say goodbye :( -okay don’t think about what sana could’ve written in her texts to everyone or ur heart will go sicko mode -I won’t write anything abt this ep since I’ve already written too much but like.. (elias should’ve gotten a clip instead of william. pchris can stay because his clip was funny but he’s on thin fuckin ice) -kjaere sana was such a beautiful way to say goodbye to skam. so yeah. bye skam. i miss you. 

overall ➔I’m not really sure why (possibly a lethal combination of my undying love for sana bakkoush, how much I relate to her, this but my ass was crying EVERY single episode of season 4...... F ➔I’m obsessed with s4′s aesthetic. imo the best editing, soundtrack and cinematography of any season!!!! julie is so talented at making each season feel distinct- to me, sana’s season is cool, vibrant colours (aka the late-night sunset aesthetic- gabie i hear u laughing shut up), crisp electronic/pop music and rap, ethereal city nights..... also sana has the best style of any skam character it had to be said ➔sana’s growth! seeing her open up and be honest and vulnerable with the girls during that phone call. sana sending all of her friends literally the sweetest messages of how much they mean to her and how much she values their relationship. sana being the (MUCH) bigger person and making amends with sara, ingrid etc. I love her so much :’((( ➔I’ve thought a lot about what I would change in season 4 and honestly? im a mf scatterbrain and have no real, structured ideas. my biggest issue is too much noora. dream s4 would be william staying in london and noora being happy on her own (but not rly on her own bc she has the girls and kollektivet!). as :/ as I am about the noora/yousef plotline, I’m not really sure what I’d do to replace the yousana conflict in ep5. maybe involving elias, or the balloon squad and even? related to that- in lieu of all the noora/noorhelm screentime, I would so much rather have a follow-up plot to elias’s drinking problem bc it was kinda just dropped? at the very least, the william clip should’ve been elias’s. I also would've killed for more one-on-one scenes with chris (even vilde or eva!), jamilla, even, members of the balloon squad... there are so many interesting stories that could’ve been explored instead of going down the noorhelm rabbithole again. furthermore, I feel like the social media plot was a bit... weak? again I’ve tried thinking of what I would’ve done instead (while also keeping the haper du har plass clip, y’all can pry that one from my cold dead hands) to little avail. what especially threw me about this plotline is that sana did this in s2 to jamilla, fucked up, and it bit her in the ass. I know that she gets irrational when angry but from a storytelling perspective, it seems repetitive. just.. I feel like there could’ve been a more powerful plot in which sana follows the same character arc. another thing I would’ve loved to see is beyond the los losers van, an apology from the girls to sana. or even just a conversation where they tell her “hey sana, we’re sorry for not paying attention and we’re sorry for being thoughtless/ignorant.” an apology from vilde about things she’s said in the past would’ve been <3. even a gesture! the girls order pizza again but this time it’s halal, or they make an effort to learn about sana’s religion and culture. I know it’s implied through the letter they write for sana, but a final standalone scene would’ve been so nice.  ➔i’ve noticed soo many remakes do this thing where they like.. water down shitty behaviour of their characters. which like- sure. I would love for everyone to be kind and thoughtful and not as horrible as they could be but also... I think that’s the point of skam? to show that people fuck up, but that doesn’t define them as a person. no one is perfect and no one can be thoughtful and considerate and kind all the time. and often these ‘problematic’ actions are integral to the story- e.g. elias saying stupid comments to isak (related to isak’s internalized homophobia and fear of coming out to his friends), the girl squad being ignorant about what sana can eat, etc. so..... your remake is not better because it erased every horrible action every character has done. (nuance.. where r u.........) ➔despite its flaws, I will say- the good moments of season 4? ineffable. I think we sometimes forget that julie literally wrote, directed, and I believe (?) assisted w editing and soundtrack too. i cant imagine doing all that under so much pressure, trying to bring so many storylines to a conclusion whilst simultaneously creating a goodbye-season to a show she put her life into the past two years. I’m so fucking appreciative of her. and you know what? all in all julie wrote some pretty damn beautiful episodes and scenes, and you can tell she loves this show just as much as we do. ➔and honestly this is maybe one reason I’m more wary of watching remake s4′s, bc like.. this season meant SO much bc it was the last season of skam. we knew it was the last season. the final episode is more or less a love letter, a goodbye to the show. whereas w some remakes (do i have to say whomst) its  like.. that love isnt there. it’s just another season. yknow? in conclusion I miss skam so much :(

ok whew if ur reading this ur a champion but also why did you just read 5k of me rambling about how much I love sana bakkoush?? 

[sidpah]

Mirage Part 1

Holding but one thing dear, I glance around taking in my last few particulars, storing up existence fodder for the next go round, when from a great cloud of sewer steam and taxi exhaust materializes an imposing mirage… Her feline grace bare, unclothed, riding a pale drift of clove smoke – A Devi creating, preserving, destroying, all without a single movement…

Drams of ambrosia pour from somewhere even higher than these sky-piercing glass-lingam rooftops to shower her swells of fallow lust; a thousand stunned countrymen are locked mid-commute, their destinations moments ago all-important, all-encompassing and now entirely forgotten… She runs a playful hand across hazy pink nipple and giggles – unaware of her growing horde of admirers.

It must be a sign! – A grainy photograph, an ad for perfume! An ad for the temptation of addiction – feeding our addiction to temptation… A pitchfork singeing the eye, loosed from flaming bow...

But how can I get down there? Even one Kaya into the great old celestial lightshow, I’m struck dumb by her limitless perfections laid bare… I feel blessed, even in this state of high-street marketplace confusion… I place a finger to open temple…

A resonant tone hums from every mouth that stands nearby, gaping without extending word of aid – Spiked rings of Sri Yantra surround each body like protective nets –

A car backfires, I wince, a thousand mandalas shatter into frantic ripples of panic – The ripples cascade upward where they shimmer the clouds and constellations – I lie, gaze anchored to the firmament, far above crumbling buildings into the same sky overlooking every city with a hum of migrating wings beating pulses in sync with my own… If I immerse myself in, all lines become phallic and all circles leak a tiny red dot upon white lace coverlet...

No mind can distinguish between fantasy and physicality, I once explained to a sullen stranger – I’m thinking of Olivia and I making love on a bridge over the unbridled current of a great blue-black ocean...

The Sun caroming, dispersed into a million glistening jewels of flame on the water’s crust, the reflected heat warming our bare skin... Images of our escapades flicker on brick storefronts… Sex in limousines, windows wide open spreading our screams like tails of red paint across the city – Mouth buried deep between her slick thighs in the bathroom of a snooty French restaurant; her bare ass on the ledge of a white marble sink, her fingers knotted in my hair grinding her pelvis in rhythm with the impatient knocking on the door – Fucking like feral cats in an alleyway, my back enmeshed with a pile of rancid black trash bags, empty cans rattle and clank…

“It’s so much better with rats scurrying round their ubiquitous shadowed homes,” this old alcohol-beaten professor used to tell all the girls, and all the gin-soaked sailors looking for an erotic word to get their pants off – Thrown into fits of the passion he could never find alone – Trash cans and bar bands singing a tune just for them… But I keep those images to myself. Instead, I’m jacking-off on this goddamn street corner to found photos of a lovely girl with hiked-skirt pressed flat against magazine gloss inches from my panting face… She’s lying on hardwood floor, smooth pink skin rolling beneath outlines of my dry chapped fingers… White shirt, mostly unbuttoned, tussled around sinuous midriff, musky perfume evaporates in heat ripples off the concrete – Heart pumps, stomach churns, sweat beads, cock ejaculates just as hard – My hands and her arched belly merge as spilt ink in gossamer waters – caressed by the other until both water and ink dissolve in a fresh creation naked and straddling an invisible lover’s neck…

 Oh, fated Ixion, I too must share your fiery revolving torment… It’s clear now; it is far too late for me to avoid the dim lights on this revolution… I’m too skittish and fearful to recognize my own transcendent radiance...

Oh, to be even a Once-Returner! A dream!

Likely I’ve hardly entered the Stream but with one shriveled big toe… So much delusion to put off and so few hours of consciousness before me… Again, a barbed pitchfork singeing the eye… loosed from flaming bow…

Mara, you gloriously cruel bastard! Withdraw your haggard daughters and remove your plague! You are powerless! Powerless! Your daughters are ugly and rotten; they are assembled and revolting. They stink like the putrefying meat from which they are cobbled! They’re dribbling from every orifice, thick pus, rancid milky fluids – They’re wrinkled and sprouting out patches of thick black fur sagging with dark moles and stretching elastic tattoos... Thinning hair grey and white, eroded cartilage, slipped vertebrae and plastic knee replacements… On walkers they hobble, in wheelchairs they wail high on Darvocet, delusional with dementia… Incontinent urine runs through their lacey silk panties while green shit leaks from cellulite cheeks. Their mouths full of black gums, rotting teeth and nagging, constant rancid nagging, demands of duty and mortification... All these visions of form are fleeting! One renegade sperm and a lifetime of attachment ensues... From her curdled ass straight to my mouth!

 My gods, my gods, not unlike the revolting hirsute nature of my own bacteria-riddled flesh… These are egoistical joys, ephemeral and self-serving… The most divine portraits and sculptures age even with their subjects frozen in their prime. I am not frozen, nor will I ever be, so I cannot maintain the brief roving lust for beauty… To be held like that doll... Cherished, nursed, protected by those slender arms and narrow chest. Huddled against breast warm and heaving – Smell of clean powders... Gripped like the clammy hand of a boy, cheeks flushed in a shy grin. Doesn’t want his friends to see them together, but can’t bear to let her run away... Pressed lips to my forehead with the gentle affection she shows her sleeping kitten – This honest sedentary love…

Her buoyant form, perfectly sacred – The inwardly curving small of back soft and precious – Her arm that hides a cheek’s milky blush – Slight shoulders of easy confidence – Thinly defined legs smooth and toned, down to moisturized feet and petite toes arrayed in green polish and summer sandals – Her unpainted countenance enchants me so I stare and then blush, myself nearly caught – Her defined feminine jaw, her chin, its dimple, its red line of contemplation – Large dark eyes framed by auburn hair thick and radiant – Her elfin ear, revealed by a sweep of her fingers, then gone...

When I take her hand in mine, hallelujah! Spring’s thaw at last! Sprouts of tender green – A buzzing bee takes flight – Thick taste of nectar… The fields reclaimed! – Tiny fingers swaddled in broken palm. Her fine downy arm pressed to my own, shoulder against shoulder – The weight of our bodies neutralized. Our footsteps in rhythm, triplets, with a small skip between repetitions. Giggling at the sparks cascading through our stomachs, once joined at the navel... Creatures of the gods are we tonight…

 But what magic do these gods possess? This magic is barren… This magic is equal parts Romance and Carnal Desire. Subtract Carnal Desire and leave Romance – you’re left with a weak watered down ideal of vague destiny like thin decaf coffee film on the roof of your mouth… Leave Lust and take away Romance –  at least the hot tingle from Svadisthana still functions wildly, burning, spinning, sending us running in inert circles bathed in cold sweat, craving the oozing pheromones of suitable mates, jacking-off in white shower stalls to memories of high shorts creeping up firm alabaster thighs, tiny glimpses of pink cotton exposed and magnified a thousand lurid times... This at least feels a little like magic because it outruns Reason. Reason annihilates Romance like a candle vanquishing the darkness of a small room. The word magic is derived from the Sanskrit maya, meaning illusion. Poof… Romance is Hollywood’s drug of choice. Romance is societal pressure to feel attractive and prove your desirability and worth. Romance is an archetypal myth.  Reason disposes of the mirage. Reason will not, however, brush even a single hair from Lust’s glistening brow…

Fingers embalmed together keep the spark of that romantic enchantment alive. Analysis douses the spark, suffocating it in a brilliant snuff of musty smoke…

 A booming voice resounds through my ears… Male? Female? I can’t discern anything anymore. Can anyone else hear it? What’s it matter if they could? It only matters to me right now. No one else… “At the bottom is the flesh on flesh act of sex which is, at best, boring, functional, mundane and even a bit embarrassing in its messy vulnerability. But grafted above it is the artificial skin of eroticism, which could be just as easily grafted over any structural artifice – food, music, sports, religion ��� all of the naughty nurse, sexy school girl fascination has little to do with sex, but with our own fabrication of an edifice of pleasure from which to hang our molten sorrows and crippling fear of all that we can never fathom…”

[romvnova]

Becoming The Raptor Wrangler: Chapter One

Warning: There may be potential triggers littered throughout this chapter. Please read this at your own discretion. Keep in mind, in my headcanon Owen suffers heavily from PTSD and anxiety and it’ll be a key focus of his character for me until he finds a way to cope with it (apropos to “his girls” { aka. the raptor squad } Blue, Charlie, Delta and Echo).

There’s an unrelenting pounding of someone’s fist on the metal of his Airstream’s door. Owen, who was in an uneasy sleep — it’s always uneasy — sets up with a rough gasp, his heart pounding loudly in his ears as the blood rushes from his head.

“Alright. ALRIGHT!” He snarls as he throws his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, planting his hand to the wall for a second before he pushes off of it and goes to the door, unlocking it and pushing it open. The knocking, blissfully, ceases but there’s a fire in his father’s eyes as Owen opens the door and steps aside as Logan Grady invites himself in that makes Owen immediately regret opening the door.

“Come in.” Owen invites as his father turns sharply on his heel and turns to face Owen who lets out a breath and closes the door. His father’s gaze burns through him and Owen can’t help but feel that it was intimidating enough to cause the devil himself to think twice.

“Owen, this has to stop.” His father’s arm shoots out to stop him as Owen makes to brush past him, reaching for the small, orange prescription bottles laying on the RV’s counter.

“What the hell?” Owen demands gruffly, growing more grumpy by the moment as his mood swings. He needs the anti-depressants and anxiety medication to function something close to a normal human being and his father knows it. It isn’t a magical cure all — the flashbacks and the anxiety attacks still happen — but it helps.

“I can’t sit by and just watch this any longer.”

“Watch what?” Owen snaps. He’s taller than his father and his father wasn’t truly the road-block that he thought he was. If Owen really wanted to …he could get past him. But Owen didn’t really want to. There was too much of a risk that he’d seriously hurt his dad in the process and despite his raising annoyance he didn’t want to hurt his old man.

“Watch you waste away in this trailer. Look Owen, it’s been six months since you …retired from the SEALS and in that time you’ve done nothing to help yourself. You just keep taking the medication they prescribe for you. You haven’t put much, if any effort, towards finding a new purpose. You need somethin’, boy. Somethin’ other than these damn medicines and this trailer. You need to find your path. You’ve lost your way.” Owen’s lips mash into a hard, terse line and he rolls his eyes, shifting his position so he leans his hips against the counter.

His father wasn’t wrong.

Still, that goddamn Grady stubbornness rises like a white hot heat in Owen as he feels the urge to defend himself.

“Nobody’s hiring vets, Dad. I’m a liability to them. If I have a PTSD episode while at work …that’s on them. They can’t take that risk.” Owen’s tone is colorfully snide to accent the sharp air quotes he did. He’d only heard that line over a thousand times.

Can you get through a day without the jackhammer triggering a flashback?

No.

Sorry son, I just…I can’t take that risk.

Yeah, I’d gladly hire you as security. Your martial arts repertoire is impressive, man…but there’s a lot of flashing lights and heavy bass. I see that you suffer from PTSD. Can you confidently tell me that it won’t trigger an episode?

Not as confidently as you’d like me to.

I’m real sorry, man. I can’t take the risk. Better luck next time.

Owen understands …to some degree. He gets it but he can only take being kicked to the curb like a prized fighting dog that’s lost it’s value for so long before it takes it’s toll on him. He’s struggling …and it’s only because of sheer stubbornness that he hasn’t taken to alcohol as a suppressant.

“I mean, honestly, Pops. What skills do I have to offer the world? It’s not like there’s exactly a high demand for a black-ops trained killer. And, ok, I could make a few bucks training animals …but people’re too afraid that I’ll train their animals to be weapons.”

Owen watches his father contemplate his words and a long silence stretches between them followed closely by a rise and fall of Logan Grady’s shoulders.

“Listen, Owen. I need an extra pair of hands at the Ranch. I can’t haul an axe like I used to and Rick brought me a particularly rebellious stallion that needs a good trainer. I’ll pay you the same wage I pay everyone else —”

“Pops …,” Owen shakes his head in refusal. “I’m not —”

“Now, don’t argue with me boy …”

“— I’m not takin’ your money.” Owen insists firmly with a bit more passive aggression than he meant to. Realizing he’s stepped boot to boot with his father, staring down at him in the same manner he’d stared down at the men in his platoon when they’d disobeyed him Owen swallows thickly and reels back, reigning himself in. “I’ll work on the Ranch,” Owen agrees, hand gripping the the wood top of the dinette’s bench. He tries to make it look casual but his grip is hard and he feels the wood slowly giving way beneath his fingers that have gone numb from the death grip he exerts. “but I won’t accept your money.”

“Molly Warbeck keeps asking if you’ll be coming back to church anytime soon.”

Molly Warbeck was Owen’s ex from high school. One of those down-home, homegrown, found on good ground girls. Owen joined the Navy the summer of his Junior year in school and their relationship ended a few days after their senior graduation. Owen broke it off with her because it hadn’t seemed fair to him for her to keep holding onto him when he had ambitions to join the SEALS. Holding onto a man who’d became a ghost, never knowing when and where he was going or if he’d make it back.

People in your life were messy.

And now …well, now, the Owen he’d been in high school didn’t exist anymore and it wasn’t fair to either of them to try to ‘pick up where they’d left off’. Maybe for her it was easy, maybe she hadn’t changed at all …but Owen couldn’t be that kid anymore.

“It doesn’t seem right to go to Church when I don’t believe in God.” Owen squints out the window, arms crossed over his chest. He approaches the subject gruffly and close-minded. His decision’s been made on both fronts: God and Molly Warbeck. Surprisingly, his father doesn’t push, for all of Logan Grady’s faults, he tries not to push religion on Owen, and tries to respect his point of view. Molly’s a bit of a different story but Owen’s well adapted to holding his ground.

“That wasn’t exactly what I was gettin’ at…” Logan scratches as his salt and pepper beard.

“— I know what you were getting at.” Owen interrupts, brushing past his father. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed and clean up and I’ll hitch a ride with you up to the ranch.” Logan grunts and heads towards the door, pushing it open and pushing it closed behind him. Owen’s fingers reach for the prescription bottle but he stops just short of tugging it into his grasp.

The anti-depressants and anxiety medications make Owen’s life more tolerable …and he doesn’t remember the last time he tried to make it through a day without them. The goal’d always been to wean himself off of them once he found solid ground beneath his feet again.

Why not start today?

Currently, the ground felt pretty damn solid …but that was a rocky slope. He’d just started up the mountain that seems so damn and impossibly high. One step at a time.

He retracts his hand and goes into the ‘bedroom’ to change into jeans and an old flannel shirt and contemplates shaving off his beard that he’d let grow. He runs his hands over it for a moment, considering his options before he remembers that his father’s outside waiting for him. He exits the RV and hops up into the bed of his father’s rumbling, old Chevy truck, rapping his knuckles against the roof of the cab, snickering at his father when Logan pokes his head out of the window he cranked down.

“Get in the cab of the truck, boy. Like a normal person.”

“Nah, I’m good.” He laughs as his father’s head disappears into the cab and he puts the truck in drive and they rumble down the rough path to the ranch. It was reminiscent of Owen’s time as a kid. He’d always preferred to ride in the bed of the truck as opposed to being wedged in the cab between his parents, or having to share that tiny middle seat with his younger brother ( which couldn’t have been even remotely safe now that he thinks about it ). Besides that, it feels claustrophobic to him.

He ducks and sinks down into the bed to avoid being beheaded by low hanging branches, and props one knee up, resting his hand on his knee, back pressed against the back of the cab as he watches his RV at the very back of their land disappear into the thick trees, his Triumph the last thing he sees glinting in the early morning sun.

The window at the back of the cab unlatches and his dad slides it open. He’s got the news playing on the radio and Owen swallows the lump that forms in his throat as the woman radio personality talks about an armed robbery, a workplace shooting and a kidnapping. The last was the story of how a young girl was raped by her step-dad repeatedly and Owen’s stomach roils with nausea and for a moment his muscles tense as he prepares to hoist himself over the side of the truck to throw up.

“Turn it off.” Owen rasps into the window. “For the love of fuck…turn it off.” He doesn’t want to hear the shit the world’d turned into. This wasn’t what he’d fought for. This wasn’t the America he’d sacrificed damn near everything for.

A few seconds past.

“Are you alright, Owen?” The truck lurches and Owen grabs the side of the truck bed and empties his mostly empty stomach over it.

“Fine.” Owen gasps as he finishes, scrunching up his face at the sour taste that lingers in his mouth. “There’s a reason I don’t own a TV.” He tells his father gruffly.

There’s a long pause and Owen wipes the light sheen of sweat off of his forehead with the grease stained cloth tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. The cool fall air feels good against his heated skin. The news only pisses him off, makes him sick. Makes him feel like everything he and every other service member did was for nothing.

He thought he’d been some damn unsung hero. He thought he’d known who the enemies of mankind were …but the truth was that they lingered everywhere. Monsters hiding in human skin everywhere.

He thought about joining the local police or state trooper force. It seemed like a natural transition: uphold the law, protect the innocent. It’d been his plan, originally. His therapist recommended against it claiming it to be ‘least suitable career choice for him due to his emotional issues from his tours of deployment’.

Emotional issues. That was a nice way of putting it. Candy coated, legal jargon bullshit.

“Have you eaten anything?”

“You woke me up.” Owen replied, fidgeting with a loose string on his jeans as he props his knee back up. He doesn’t say it accusatory. Just tiredly. His father makes a small rumble of disapproval.

“I’ll make you some breakfast. A man needs to eat.”

They drive for a few more minutes, a silence settling between them only for Owen to let out a grunt and grab onto the side of the bed to keep himself from slamming back into the back of the cab as his father slams on the breaks. The tires squeal in protest and the truck engine rumbles it’s own displeasure.

“What the hell?” Owen asks, pushing himself to his feet in the bed to loom over the roof of the cab. Three black cars are parked along the lane. A man looking out of place in jeans and a casual shirt stands leaning against the Mercedes and two men in black uniform flank him, their hands resting on their sidearms. Hardly inconspicuous.

“I thought I told ya to get off my land.” Owen’s father yells as he goes to get out of the truck.

“Stay in the truck, Dad.” Owen warns his father as he hops over the side of the bed, moving around the truck to meet the man who moves forward. Owen watches his lackeys as they mirror his movements.

“Lieutenant Commander Grady.” The man holds a meaty hand out for Owen to shake but Owen doesn’t reciprocate.

“Former Lieutenant Commander.” Owen corrects gruffly. “I’m retired, in case you haven’t heard.”

“Dogs of war like us never retire, Lieutenant Commander.” The man replies with a quirk of his lips into a smile. Owen doesn’t trust him. “I’m Vic Hoskins. Head of Security at InGen on Isla Nublar.”

“I know who you are.” Owen replies curtly.

“You’re a hard man to get ahold of, Mr. Grady.” Vic Hoskins seems adamant on dancing around what Owen really wants to know. Owen recognizes the power-play happening. Hoskins wants to be in control of their conversation and that annoys Owen greatly.

“It’s intentional.” He didn’t want the government or military sniffing him out, he didn’t want to join any support groups. He just wanted to be left alone.

“Want to tell me why you’re harassin’ my Old Man, Mr. Hoskins?”  Owen demands in lieu of asking.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with Jurassic World?” Hoskins inquires with a grin that would put a cat to shame. Except he thinks Owen’s his canary. Big mistake, but for the moment allowing Hoskins to think he’s in charge here works to Owen’s advantage and thus he allows it.

“It’s hard not to be. Advertisements everywhere you look.” Owen doesn’t agree with it. With the de-extinction of the dinosaurs, with exploiting them for money and entertainment. It rubbed him the wrong way on multiple levels …but he knows he has no room to talk. Hadn’t he done the same thing with his animals during his time with the SEALS? Train them to be weapons of war? He’d exploited them for the military, and they’d been used and disposed of in lieu of soldier’s lives.

And it haunted Owen every day of his life.

“You ever been?”

“Nah. Zoos aren’t my thing.” Owen replies cracking a lopsided grin that hides knives beneath it. It’s all a complex mess of feelings for him. He understands with the ‘saving endangered animals from extinction’ prospect of it …but then again wasn’t that what animal sanctuaries were for?

“I have to be honest, Mr. Grady …I’m looking for someone of your particular skill set to join InGen’s team.”

“And what skill set would that be?”

“We’re working on a new project called IBRIS. We’d like for you to research the cognitive abilities and behavior of the Raptors. See if they can bond with the humans, if they can be trained to follow commands. Your file appeared on my desk with a high and shining recommendation.”

The ‘no’ lingers on the very tip of Owen’s tongue. He’s not going to train war machines. Instead of ‘no’, he laughs. He laughs because it sounds so ridiculous. A dinosaur trainer? Training dinosaurs wasn’t like training dogs and horses.

“You want me to train velociraptors?” Owen asks, just to be sure he’s heard Hoskins correctly.

“This isn’t a laughing matter, soldier. It’s a serious offer. It’s a good offer. Misrani is willing to triple your wage you made before you retired.”

Holy shit.

“Full employee benefits. Retirement plans. Everything top of the line. Right at your fingertips.”

It sounds grand but Owen’s not out for money. He gets a nice fat pension from the military as it is. He chooses to live in the old Airstream on his family’s land. It’s quiet. It’s comfortable and he’s never been a man of pomp.

There’s a big question of morality in play. As Owen stares Hoskins down, the other man does the same to him. He doesn’t want to train the velociraptors for monetization and exploitation. Besides that, unleashing velociraptors on a battlefield? Sounds like a massacre waiting to happen. Could he let that happen? Owen gets the feeling that this Project IBRIS was going to happen with or without him spearheading it. If he didn’t accept the job then someone who had no moral compass would come in, in his place. At least if he accepts Owen has a chance to ensure that he’s a valuable piece on the chess board. He can ensure that InGen couldn’t dispose of him when he got in their way because he would get in their way. There was no way that he was going to let them unleash raptors in active war zones. For the sake of both the people and the animals themselves.

“I need some time to think about it.” Owen finally responds. He already knows his answer but he wants InGen to sweat it out for a bit. They want him bad, he can tell by the twitch in Vic Hoskins eye as Owen intentionally displays deliberation.

“You have twenty four hours. There’s a jet waiting at the local airport. It departs at seven hundred hours tomorrow morning. Your name’s on the manifest.” Hoskins tells him before turning sharply on his heel and walking back to the car, his lackeys following after a few prolonged seconds as Owen plants his hands on his hips.

InGen wants him bad enough to assume that he’ll say ‘yes’.

“What’d they want?” Owen looks over his shoulder as the rumbling engine of his father’s truck draws closer, the crunch of gravel under tire slowing as his father pulls the truck to a stop beside Owen.

“To offer me a job.” Owen replies, going around the front of the truck and hopping in the passenger side of the cab.

[7r0773r]

The Hundred Brothers by Donald Antrim

Elsewhere people came and went, played card games and chess, tended to one another’s injuries, chased the bats. These men’s lives seemed, for the moment, untouched by fear. But I did not envy them. I felt the way humans must have felt in earlier times, at the dawn of our history, when the world was alive with primitive dangers and life depended for its preservation on the graces and fancies of hateful gods. 

“Go ahead, kill me,” I commanded the dog. He held on to his bone. What was he thinking? There was no way of knowing. He was just a dog. 

Winds blew and the music played. Snow piled up. People talked but I was not paying attention to their conversations. I felt the cold air. Gunner’s eyes shimmered and I held my book close to me. It was easy, looking into the dog’s mouth, at those white teeth and black gums, to imagine the power and authority our ancestors must have felt with companions like Gunner at their sides. 

What an animal. What was he doing with an alcoholic like Chuck for a master? “You understand about death, don’t you?” I said to him. He growled quietly then readjusted the bone, expertly, in his teeth. Snap snap. I regarded this as an answer of sorts. I confided to the Doberman, “Once upon a time men celebrated the seasons of death and rebirth with sacrifices and burnt offerings. The world was cold and forbidding, and if you didn’t watch out, your enemies would come up behind you and kill you with a spear or a club. A single night’s foul weather could destroy your crops, and then you might starve. Each day brought terror. Angry spirits unleashed thunder and lightning, diseases and pestilences, every species of ferocious beast. Men developed language to communicate their terror to one another. People were in pain all the time. They believed they would be rewarded for their pain. This is what is known as the human condition.”

 It seemed to me that the dog was paying attention. What a fierce nose Gunner had. Perhaps he knew, from my serious tone of voice, that I was speaking on weighty matters. I told him, “Over the years mankind has devised many ways to alleviate the pain of living, and much of human history can be understood as a death march toward this goal. Although suffering in life can sometimes be postponed, it can never be avoided. This is the central lesson of the world’s religions. Please don’t drool on the book. All right, Gunner? Good boy. This is the central lesson of the world’s religions. Where was I? The pain of existence is ours to bear. In order to bear it we must make sacrifices. We must offer ourselves up before God and our fellow man. That is the function of the Corn King.” 

The dog really did appear to be listening. It was as if he knew—was letting me know that he knew—what I was talking about. Of course I realize it would be going too far to suggest that animals comprehend the symbolic realm. But I gave Gunner the benefit of the doubt. “The Corn King is an archetypal harvest spirit. His story is as old as recorded time. In rude societies, before the dawn of civilization, when it was believed that spirits resided in all things, in the mountains and lakes, trees and grasses, cats and dogs” —I gave Gunner a smile; his ears pricked up and I went on —”no spirit was regarded with greater awe than the spirit of the corn. From corn came food and grain alcohol. Life depended on the harvest, and so human beings were routinely sacrificed to ensure the fertility of the crop. These were martyrs. While alive—and death was painful, very painful, Gunner—the Corn King’s human representatives were worshiped as gods. It was their blood that enriched the earth, their tears that brought the rains, their flesh that fatted the land. They died so that others might live. Today, mimicry of this ancient practice is common in many popular religions.” At this point the dog began to lose interest. He made a yawning sound and fiddled with the bone in his mouth. I quickly said, “In some instances, the Corn King’s still-beating heart was cut out and devoured!"

I felt nervous telling Gunner this. That blood on my shirtfront was a perfect target. We’ve all heard the frightening stories of domesticated animals regressing into feral states and tearing their owners limb from limb. Gunner had made short work of that pork chop. The dog’s nose twitched. Perhaps he had eaten enough. I explained to him that modern men had lost touch with ancient rhythms of death and regeneration, but that it was possible—if you took intoxicants and wore the right mask and costume—to regain connection with the primeval aspects of the Self, and to enact, in ritualized form, the important celebrations of sacrifice and abasement; that this was, in some respects, what family get-togethers were all about. I wrapped up, “You see, Gunner, the Corn King is my gift to my brothers. Every year I have a few drinks, then get in costume, and they try to catch me. Luckily, most of those guys are out of shape. Ultimately, the Corn King must die. In this way the family of man can prosper and thrive.” 

This ended my talk with the dog. But Gunner did not back off right away. First he allowed me to pet his head. What a pleasant creature. He only wanted what we all want from time to time, to submit and feel love. “Gunner, how would you like to be my dog?” 

My fear of him was gone. In fear’s place was a new self-possession; I understood why people keep animals. I rose from my chair—carefully holding A Complete Guide to Heraldry in front of my body, just to be safe—and I didn’t even bother pretending to have a hurt foot. So what if Lester said something? It was late and the time had come at last to go over to the African masks, choose a colorful headdress from the wall, put it on my head, then run around and shout the kinds of obscenities that get people mad. 

“Come on, Gunner.” (pp. 166-70)

***

There is nothing quite like the primitive ecstasy of pissing somewhere besides the bathroom. I rate the act very highly. Pissing in nature or in some dark corner, as I was, captures and brings into consciousness certain archaic versions of a man’s most secret Self—those aspects of character and identity that remain, in civilized daily life, veiled, disguised, sealed away: the messy, narcissistic, bodily Self of infancy; the wild, magnificent, feral Self of mankind’s prehistoric beginnings; that communal, loving Self expressed in each man’s deep bond with his fellow men; and of course the sovereign, assertive, fiercely territorial Self that announces, Get out of my way! I’m taking a leak! 

Feeling such emotions, it was impossible not to elevate the stream and hose down, as they say, a few literary masterpieces. 

I may as well point out that I was able to hit titles all the way up on the third and fourth shelves. When you get into your middle years, as I have, these things matter. 

I shook and put it away. Since I’m being frank, I ought to say that I went through the mature man’s generic process of shaking: several rapid shakes followed by a brief rest followed by more jiggling, and the whole ordeal repeated until everything feels comfortably dry and secure. As I grow longer in the tooth, I find myself shaking off for greater and greater stretches of time, and I always use this time to fret morosely about my health in general, and about the likelihood that a grave illness, conceivably located in the bladder region, will overtake me in the future, maybe imminently. In this way a pleasurable, natural act becomes the catalyst for somber reflections and an unnatural, incipient depression. So much of life follows this pattern exactly, I think. We begin to lose ourselves in a joyful or gratifying act—it can be a creature comfort or something complicatedly emotional like stimulating conversation or the solitary immersion in a poem, a beautiful landscape, or a work of art—and we forget, in the moment of serenity, all the pain and trouble of life. Until, quite suddenly and, as a rule, shockingly, this very forgetfulness, our fleeting holiday from care, becomes nothing more than another occasion to remember how truly infrequently happiness comes to us, and how likely we are to die in some horrible way. Then, disgusted with ourselves over our inability to enjoy life, we halt the pleasurable activity and move on, as speedily as we can, to other business. It was precisely this kind of dispirited self-loathing that led me to give myself only a few cursory shakes, so that when I replaced myself in my trousers, I felt urine dribbling down my leg. As always when this happens, I became enraged. I became angry and irrational. The night was cold, and I struggled against despair. 

The struggle, however, was unavailing. 

I wept. 

At first I wept for myself—for my incontinence, obviously—and then for my entire, ridiculous existence, and for the loneliness I felt, not only there in the literature section in the late hours on that snowy night, but all the time, constantly, ever since I could remember feeling anything at all. As I wept, I felt lonelier and lonelier and lonelier. I envisioned, one after another, my brothers, the bloated, red faces of my brothers, all my beloved brothers but in particular Hiram and Virgil and Maxwell. These three I loved best. And also George. Would we ever see George again? After a while I was weeping for the rose garden and the former grandeur of our trees and lawns, those green fields where we played as children. We had always hurt one another in our games; hurting was the object of our games; and this made me cry more, and I held the blue pillow to my breast. I wrapped my arms around the blue pillow, hugged it to me, and let the tears come. I was standing in water up to my ankles, and this for some reason became another pressing sadness. I suppose it was because the water was rising that I felt so affected. Before long I was crying for, it seemed, everything. Everything in the red library was deserving of tears. Those eyeless, emaciated, deaf and dead animals on their barren squares of wall always reminded me of past Dougs, the Dougs who perished as youths; and, as I wept, they reminded me, the animals, of myself and of what would surely become of me one day, maybe soon. I was nothing but another Doug. Hiram was the oldest. Father I know really, only from his occasional, shadowy appearances above the lights, his intermittent manifestations as a damp stain. Actually, this is not, strictly speaking, the whole truth. It is true in the sense that it describes the way I have felt for as long as I have known my feelings. I remember, I think, our father's face and his voice. I remember his mustache. I remember our father in his underwear at night. I remember the hair on his legs. I remember the smell in the bathroom after he left it. I remember his unhappiness and his dread of our happiness, and I remember him saying, “How's my Doug?” I remember his body’s smells, his smells of tobacco, of course, and of alcohol and cologne, a cologne like lavender you never smell anymore. I remember the pleasure of seeing him enter the room. I remember certain stories and jokes. Actually, I forget the stories and the jokes, though I remember that these existed. I remember his conviction that he was hated, and I remember the thunder his footsteps made crossing the floor. Time after time my brothers and I have joined together to eat, drink, and bury that man. All we ever did was eat, drink, and injure each other. The sadness of our cruelty was more than I could bear. Tears rose in waves that washed up from the center of my body. The muscles in my sides felt as if they would tear from the strain of that sobbing. The water around my feet was steadily rising. I knew it was prideful to overinterpret broken pipes and a leaking roof, but on the other hand it did seem that I was not completely alone in my crying, that the red library was dripping and pouring out its own tears, its own remorse. 

I thought these things because I had failed to shake off after urinating. What a degenerate I was. What sadness, to come to such a point in life, this point at which the simplest acts, acts that promise pleasure, give access only to terrors and an overriding impression of loss. (pp. 183-87)

***

There is an impression, held true in our society, that the father is surpassed, overtaken, outlived, and in these and other respects, killed by the son.

But this is, I think, actually not the case. In truth, I think, it is always the son who is killed by the father. Couldn’t it be argued that each man dies the death made for him by his father? (p. 205)

[j-t-k-moved]

I decided to redo my Trollsona cause there's stuff I wanted to add and fix. I also added more detail (as best as I could) and more stuff to describe my personality better.

Warning: Long ass post ahead.

  Name: Scmare Ttieer  [Seh-mare Tear] (Origin of name is unknown)

Age: 7.85 Alternian Sweeps [17 Human Earth Years]

Gender: Bigender [She/Her/He/Him]

Status: Alive

Blood Colour: Sapphire (Blue Blood, Landdweller)

Lusus: I don't fully know what it is. It's a strange creature that doesn't resemble any Alternian creatures. [See Picture: 7]

Theme: Space

Symbol: [See picture: 9]

Weapon: Double Ended Scythe [See picture: 8]  (Weapon is around 4 feet long, rarely ever used)

Power: Aura reading, The ability to perceive energy fields surrounding people, places and things. If I focus hard enough on person/object I can see colours surrounding their body. These colours can mean multiple things, from how they’re feeling to if that person is inherently evil or good.

Typing Quirk: Capitalizes letters that are in my first name (Except when actually typing my name). When useing the word 'neutral' I cap the whole thing. Uses & in place of the word 'and'

Speaking Quirk: Very quiet around people I don't know or when I'm feeling negative emotions. Very loud when around people I'm comfortable with or when feeling positive emotions.

Troll Tag: dysfunctionalCosmos

Quote: "id rather StAy NEUTRAL on thE SituAtion. lEss ChAnCE of a ConfRontAtion."

Hive: A very simple Hive, even if a bit futuristic looking. Made of a white metal, the whole hive in a circular shape. An observatory located right in the middle of the building on the roof. Used for my interest in studying space. Doors open by touching a surface near them (like touch screen)

Respiteblock: Messy room with clothes and tools on the floor. Posters of movies and videogames on the walls, along with some of my shitty drawings. Husktop located on a desk in the back of the room. Recuperacoon is located in a far right corner by a window.

Interests: Fiduspawn, Singing, Reading, Drawing, Crafting, Astronomy, Video Games, Cooking and Dancing  

Dislikes: Confrontation, Needles, Large groups of people, Loud noises, Heights, Myself

Bad Habits: Biting my lip until it bleeds, Chewing on matches, Biting my nails,

Hemoloyalty: I do not treat trolls of lower blood caste any different than I would treat a troll of a high blood caste. Though, I do understand my place on the hemospectrum and that unless I want to get culled I need to show some amount of respect to highbloods. Describes it as being neutral, even though I don't approve of the way low bloods are viewed.  

Clothing: Black tank top coated in small white specs representing stars, my symbol located on the front of my shirt. Sapphire blue button up short sleeve shirt (usually unbuttoned). Black mid-thigh shorts with ankle high black boots.

Hair: Short thick black hair [See Picture: 6]

Horns: (Horns are 1 foot long) [See Picture: 2]

Teeth/Mouth: [See Picture: 3] Bottom fangs are long and poke out a bit

Eyes: Not fully my blood colour yet [See Picture: 5] 

Ears: [See Picture: 4]

Skin: Pale grey [See Picture: 4]

Face: Round in shape. Scar across the bridge of my nose. Square thick glasses covering my eyes. Only make up being some black eye liner. [See Picture: 5]

Body: Chubby, thicker for my height. Around 198 pounds. No tattoos or other body modifications.

Mutations: None 

Height: 5'6 [Not including horns]

Ancestor: Anwara Tteeir

Dancestor: Urania Ttieer

Quadrants: [Self insert shipping list for me]

God Tier: Rogue Of Life

=============================================================

Skills:  

Knowledge: 7/10 Conceptualization Power: 6/10 Motivation: 4/10 Will to Act: 4/10 Agility: 2/10 Power Control: 10/10 Swordsmanship: 7/10 Hand-to-Hand Combat: 5/10 Long Range Accuracy: 0/10 Offense: 5/10 Defense: 5/10 Social Skills: 3/10

=============================================================Basic Personality Questions: Link To The Questions

1. Are you a leader or a follower?

i'M MoRE of A followER. i don't SEE MySElf AS A good lEAdER.

 2.  What's your faveourite colour?

dARk bluE & REd

 3. Are you more intoverted or extroverted?

ExtRovERtEd. vERy ExtRovERtEd.

 4. Do you tend to argue or avoid conflict?

i Avoid ConfliCt MoRE oftEn thAn not, but At tiMES i gEt into SMAll ARguMEntS.

 5. Are you a listener or a talker?

liStEnER. i ENjoy liStEnEing to pEoplE tAlk moRE thAn ACtuAlly tAlking MySElf.

 6. How long is you attention span

it dEpEndS on whAt i'M doing. if itS SomEthing i likE i'll foCuS on it moRE but if i dont likE it i tEnd to loSE intERESt vERy EASy.

  7. Do you laugh a lot? What's funny to you?

itS vERy EASy to MAkE ME lAugh so yEs & A lot of thingS ARE funny to ME. My SEnSE of humoR iS wERid...

  8. Are you more Athletic, Artistic, or Intellectual?

i would hAvE to SAy ArtiStiC.

 9. What would you do if someone attacked you for no reason?

wEll i would bE foRCEd to dEfEnd MySElf thEn. i would MAkE A AttEMpt to rEAson with thEM but thAt doESn't AlwAyS woRk.

 10 . Any fears?

A fEw likE, nEEdlES and A SmAll fEAR of thE dARk.

 11. What would happen if your greatest fear manifested itself?

i....honEStly wouldn't know how to dEAl with it.

  12. Do you make desicions based on emotions or logic?

i hAtE to AdMit it but EmotionS SEEM to ContRol A lot of whAt i do.

=============================================================

Backstory Questions:

1. What is your earliest memory?

My EARliESt MEMoRy wAS whEn i wAS ChoSEn by My luSuS AS A gRub.

 2. Embarrasing Story - Go!

i oNCE tRiEd to intRoduCE MySElf to AnothER tRoll whEn i wAS youngER but i tRippEd ovER My own fEEt & lAndEd fACE fiRSt in fRont of thEm...

3. Tell the story of a scar you have

thE SCAR on My noSE cAME fRoM thE fiRSt Robot i EvER built. it wAS vERy AgRESSivE & punChEd ME So hARd in thE noSE thAt it MAdE A lARgE gASh. i wAS Still pRoud of My CREAtion though.

4. Has someone close to you died?

no onE CloSE to ME hAS diEd yEt, thAnkfully

   5. What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?  

i CAn't think of Anything vERy iMpoRtAnt thAt hAS hAppEnEd to ME yEt. i dont think i'vE livEd long Enough. ==============================================

 Opinion and Interest Questions:

1. How do you feel about where you stand on the Hemospectrum?

honEStly i wiSh i Could foRm A bEttER opinion on it & ChooSE A SidE.

2. When you look at somone, how much does their blood colour have to do with your opionion of them?

it hAS no AffECt on whAt i think of thE pERSon. i judgE by ACtionS.

3. Do you like to read? If so, what genre?

i likE to REAd SomEtiMES. fAntASy iS MAinly whAt i go foR but MyStERy iS prEtty good too.

4. What about TV/Moives. What genre do you like?

i dont whAtCh MoivES or tv ShowS offtEn but whEn i do i go foR hoRRoR & RomAnCES

5. Do you believe in magic?

yES i do! i'vE SEEn MAgiC bEFoRE

 6. What is your greatest fear?

thAt EvERyonE i CARE About will lEAvE ME...

 7. How religious are you?

not vERy, i CAn't pRovE or diSpRovE Any REligionS so i pREfER to StAy NEUTRAL About it.

 8. Do you believe in soulmates/true love?

yES i bEliEvE EvERyonE hAS A SoulMAtE, EvEn thE woRST of pEoplE.

 9. What would you die (or otherwise go to extremes) for?

pEoplE i CARE About.

10. What do you believe makes a successful life?

wEll....living it thE wAy you wAnt to i SuppoSE.

11. Would you rather talk to someone over Trollian or face to face?

tRolliAN, it'S MuCh EASiER bECAuSE you hAvE MoRE timE to think About whAt you ARE sAying & thERES lESS StRESS.

 12. Do you know how to dance?

i likE to dAnCE but i wouldn't SAy i know how to SinCE i'M not good At it.

 13. What type of music do you like?

i don't hAvE A fAvouRitE typE, i likE All kindS of MuSiC.

 14. Hobbies?

wRiting, dAnCing, CRAFting...And SoMEtiMES i Sing.

  15. What's your most treasured possession? Why?  

i hAvE thESE bluE & SilvER MEtAL bRAClEtS i wEAR, i liKE the jingling Sound thEy MAkE.

=============================================================

A day in the life of Scmare Ttieer

1. You've got nothing to do. Who do you talk to?

pRobAbly My MoiRAil, oR SoMEonE ElSE CloSE to ME.

2. The sun is already high in the sky and you're still awake. What do you do to entertain yourself?

thiS hAppEnS A lot ACtuAlly, i uSuAlly plAy A vidEo gAME to pASS tiME.

3. Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted?

i wAkE up, wASh off, tRAin A bit thEn juSt pASS tiME by doing ACtiviES i likE. & it dEpEndS on whAt thE diSRuption iS.

 4. Would you leap at the call to adventure, or would you have to be dragged along?

dRAggEd. advEntuRE iSn't My thing.

5. It's raining and the power is out, how do you spend the day?

i would REAd oR woRk on SoME CRAfting pRojECtS. MAybE pRACtiCE dRAwing.

  6.  Favourite food?  

i'M vERy fond of thE huMAn food, MAShEd potAtoES

=============================================================

Self Image Questions:  

1. What is your greatest strength?

My ACtuAl StREngth. oR MAybE how i CAn SEE thE bRight SidE of thingS.

 2. Greatest Weakness

how Shy i CAn bE.

3. What three words would you use to best describe your personality?

Shy, NEUTRAL, kind?

4. Do you think you're attractive?

not REAlly no

 5. Name two things you like about yourself. Two things you don't?

i likE My EyES & My hAiR, but i diSlikE My body & how Shy i CAn bE.

=============================================================

Backstory: Link to backstory cause this post doesn't need to be longer

[tipsycad147]

Leandra Witchwood

When I sat down to write this post a few days ago, I thought this would be an easy subject to highlight and discuss. I was so wrong; there are so many levels and variations on Candle Magick I had forgotten. When you do something for many years, you tend to forget or ignore it’s variety and complexity. Perhaps it all becomes mundane after a while, like a habit.

Quickly, I realised how inspiring it is to rehash something you feel you know very well. Taking the subject apart and reassembling it has even given me a new perspective on the how and why.  This is one of my favourite forms of Magick for many reasons. This review has reopened my eyes to the value of this Magickal practice.

As humans, I think the ability to control something as volatile as fire is fascinating. We are empowered when we “control” something with the high potential for negative and positive results.

Fire can be subtle and comforting while at the same time it can be painful and destructive. Who doesn’t like to sit by a warm fire on a chilly night? Who isn’t horrified by the sight of a family’s home burning to the ground? Fire is a double edge sword. Fire demands respect and caution. You must respect it and keep your wits about you at all time as you release yourself to its power.

In my research, it appears that Candle Magick is one of the earliest forms of Magick out there. Indeed, the types and ingredients of candles have changed, but fire remains the same. Fire remains a powerful tool in all areas of Magick. As a Kitchen Witch, I cannot do what I do, without fire and heat. It is essential. “Fire, my Spirit.”

In addition to Witchcraft, fire is used by all religions to conduct prayer, manifest divinity, and set the tone for spiritual conduct. Fire and candles set the mood if you will. Think of the power a romantic candle lit dinner has on those who are in love or dating. In conjunction with our needs and desires, candles have their Magick we can explore and use to our benefit. Fire is provoking while remaining comforting to the soul.

In reviewing this subject for this post, I quickly realised that I was opening Pandora’s Box so to speak. There are so many avenues to explore, and there is no way I can highlight and discuss everything here and now. So I will run through some of the basics. In later posts I will add to the knowledge highlighted here.

Let’s begin…

Mental & Magickal Focus

Candles are great for allowing you to focus on your intent. When I began practising Wicca and learning Witchcraft, I would do a daily fire meditation.  This was a simple ritual where I would light a candle, of any colour, and focus my eyes on the base of the flame/wick as it burned. Without fail, and almost instantly, I would find my focus moving away from my mental chatter. This was a great practice for me as I often have trouble resolving and ignoring my mental chatter.

Like Water, Fire can draw you in and hone your focus with its essence. In Candle Magick the use of this unique trance-like quality is essential. Creating our mental focus and coupling it with a soothing or concentrated atmosphere is essential in accurately and effectively performing Magick.

Atmosphere

When we enter into sacred space, atmosphere is everything. The effective transition from the mundane to Magickal mindset is essential to creating sacred space and performing Magick. As Magickal Practitioners, we must find that right state of mind quickly to be effectual in our work. Some wear ritual robes, some use scent, others have specific ceremonial regimens to follow which mix and blend many elements; I prefer candles.

Try this shortly: Take several candles into a room where you will not be disturbed. It can be the bathroom, bedroom, etc. Just be sure your space is not so close in quarters that you set something on fire. Safety first!

Once you are in your space and you set your candles in safe locations, light one candle and turn out the lights. Notice the soft glow. Now begin lighting the other candles.

First, notice your mental state. Then take notice your body relaxing. This is the Magick of candles even before you set your intent; the right energy is there. You just created the right atmosphere for Magick, and it was almost instant!

Candle Colours

Okay, I can’t discuss Candle Magick without discussing the candle colours and their uses/meanings. The colour of your candle for your specific working is essential. Colour helps solidify your focus and ensure success in spell work.

Now there are MANY charts out there that highlight the colours and their meanings. I find a gradient chart of colour to be the best tool for me. This means that each colour blends into one another which leads to other unique aspects as the specific colour as the colour wheel changes. I like to keep things simple including for those colours that are combos of two or more basic colours.

Here is an example. You have Blue-Green or a teal colour… this colour would embody both aspects of blue and green. In other colour combinations, the dominant colour would hold the Magickal aspect for that colour. Take a pea or sage green. The primary colour is green although there is some brown thrown in there, green is the main focus. Easy enough right?

Keep in mind that colours will represent different aspect depending on your path and source of Magickal study. In my history I have studied a variety of paths. I have created my own Colour Correspondence Chart based on my experience and education. This is what works for me.

I have also highlighted both the positive and negative aspects of the colours. It is important to know the pros and cons of what you plan to use in your Magickal workings. As in everything, there must be balance.

Candle Colour Red 

Meaning /Magickal Intent

Strength, Attraction, Desire, Dominance, Power, Energy, Health, Vigour, Enthusiasm, Courage, Conceit, Sexuality, Passion, Action, Impulsiveness, Life, Greed, Hate, Rage, Motivation, Protection, Wishes, Love, Lust…

Candle Colour Orange

Meaning /Magickal Intent

Strength, Attraction, Desire, Dominance, Conceit, Power, Energy, Health, Vigor, Impulsiveness, Appetite, Enthusiasm, Courage, Motivation, Action, Self-Esteem, Caution, Confidence…

Candle Colour Yellow 

Meaning /Magickal Intent

Creativity, Business, Legal Matters, Conceit, Compassion, Divination, Clairvoyance, Mental Alertness, Mental Focus, Intellectual Matters, Prosperity, Health, Change, Motion, Happiness, Creativity, Confidence, Communication, Education, Travel, Happiness, Mental Clarity, Indecisiveness…

Candle Colour Green

Meaning /Magickal Intent

Luck, Abundance, Stability, Compassion, Envy, Health, Fertility, Happiness, Opportunity, Stubbornness, Success, Placidness, Hearth & Home, Caution/Warning, Illness, Employment, Safe Travels, Prosperity, Courage, Growth…

Candle Colour Blue/Indigo

Meaning /Magickal Intent

Psychic Awareness, Intuition, Opportunity, Understanding, Dreams/Dreaming, Sedation, Honour, Quests, Patience, Tranquillity, Depression, Truth, Dreams, Protection, Change, Meditation…

Candle Colour Purple

Meaning /Magickal Intent

Spiritual development, Intuition, Spiritual Healing, Dreams/Dreaming, Spiritual Communication, Protection, Wisdom, Solitude, Shyness, Meditation, Trance, Sedation…

Candle Colour Black

Meaning /Magickal Intent

Deep Meditation, Inner Journeys, Introspection, Neutralising, Banishment, Gestation, Introversion, Depression, Curses/Hexes, Protection, The Universe, Night, Truth…

Candle Colour White

Meaning /Magickal Intent

Cleansing, Energy/Curse/Hex Removal, Purity, Truth, Meditation, Peace, Death/Mortality… Neutral colour can be used as a substitute for all other colours.

Candle Colour Silver

Meaning /Magickal Intent

The Goddess, The Moon, Feminine Magick, Prosperity…

Candle Colour Gold

Meaning /Magickal Intent

The God, The Sun, Masculine Magick, Prosperity…

Candle Colour Brown

Meaning /Magickal Intent 

Endurance, Strength, Security, Certainty, Clutter, Stubbornness, Introversion, Earth Energy, Stability, Depression, Hearth & Home…

Candle Colour Pink

Meaning /Magickal Intent

Deep Love, Compassion, Feminine Magick, Emotional/Mental Love…

Phew! What a list! There are more aspects that can be added, but this gives you a solid idea.

Next let’s take a look at some of the areas of debate related to Candle Magick.

Handmade Candles vs. Mass Produced

This is an area of discussion that is widely debated in Magickal circles. Oddly, enough I have even seen people become very upset over this subject. I have no desire to tell you what you should and should not do in this area. I am only here to give you another perspective, and some of my knowledge I have gained over the years. With that said…

I prefer handmade candles. There are many reasons for this. Mainly, handmade candles are usually made is small batches and handled by select people who care for the craft and process of making candles.

I used to make my own, but I don’t get much time for it anymore. I personally, feel that candles made by you are most effective in spell work. But… they take time and space to make. The process can also be very messy. I would spend days making a variety of candles that would last me a while; then I would spend almost as much time cleaning up after. I found it increasingly hard to find time to replenish my supplies. Someday, I hope to have a designated area for making candles, then maybe I can resume the practice. Until then, I will buy my candles from local candle makers.

The bottom line is be practical. If you can make your own, do it. The process is fairly easy, and the supplies/tools are not too outrageously priced. Just make sure you have the room and the time to dedicate.

If you don’t have the time and resources to make your own, find a good vendor. There are plenty of wonderful craftspeople out there who make handmade candles that will suit your needs. Feel free to ask them about their process, where their wax comes from, what type of wax they use, and how many people potentially handle the candles, etc. Working with a small and preferably local vendor gives you a chance to get to know your craftsperson.

If you can’t find a supplier that suits your needs you can always buy candles at your local retail store. Just make sure you cleanse each candle before you use it. When items are mass produced, you can’t be certain what kind of energy they harbour.

Bees Wax vs. Soy/Palm vs. Gel & Paraffin Wax

Yes, here is another topic widely debated in Magickal circles, and for good reason. There are many things to consider. You will have to decide what kinds of wax you will use, based on your preferences. Bees Wax is considered an animal product. Palm and Soy are derived from plants, and Paraffin is a petroleum product. If your concern is the environmental impact your wax has on the planet, you will need to research your supplier and consider each wax before you purchase.

Bee’s Wax is probably your least processed wax. Bee’s Wax will hold more natural aspects compared to other wax options. So this is something to consider when choosing your wax. Bee’s Wax is thought to deliver your wishes and prayers directly to Divinity when used in Candle Magick.

Also, good quality Bee’s Wax is usually a very hard wax, which gives your candles a longer life when burning. This wax also tends to be higher in cost. Per pound Beeswax is about double the cost of Soy wax, and nearly triple the cost of Paraffin.

Soy and Palm Wax:  These are both a fairly new types of wax.  You might want to do some research on origin of the wax and how they are harvested, processed, is it fair trade, etc.

Lastly, we have Paraffin wax that is usually the most processed of all the waxes and the least expensive. Since Paraffin is the most processed of the waxes, it would likely hold little to no aspects related to its origins as a fossil fuel/oil. For many, this wax is the ideal choice. It is easy to find and is often blended with other waxes making it versatile. Not to forget inexpensive.

There are other types of candle wax, but I think these highlighted few are most noteworthy. So in selecting your wax type, you will want to consider the resources needed to make the wax for your candles and your individual needs.

Again this is your preference; there is no need to justify your choice to anyone.  Do I sometimes use candles I bought from my local retail store, SURE! My default is practicality.

Choose the type of wax that best suits your needs and budget. Don’t over think it.

Blowing Out vs. Snuffing Candles

Most of the time in Candle Magick you will allow your candles to burn out on their own. However, there are times when this is not a good idea.

Blowing out your candles vs. snuffing them is a practice directly related to your specific path, and the tradition you follow. Many friends of mine would NEVER blow out a candle. In their practice it is a HUGE taboo.

As in most Candle Magick practices, I prefer to allow my candles to expend their energy by allowing them to burn out on their own. However, there are times when I simply can’t leave a candle unattended. In times like this, I will blow them out. And no, the Earth has no opened up to swallow me whole for doing so!

I have a Snuffer; it’s a cool looking pewter dragon. Once upon a time, I snuffed my candles. Then, I realised my need for it diminished. To me blowing out candles, when needed, is a form of sending off the energy with the element of air. Plus snuffing always seemed to bend my wicks, which just annoys me. See there is my practical side again.

So again it is up to you. Sometimes Magick is about being flexible.

Ultimately, Do what feels right to you.

Oils & Herbs

Oh yeah! Let’s break out the oils and herbs!

One of my favourite aspects of Candle Magick is using my oils and herbs. You have many options here. You can place herbs and oils directly into your wax as you make candles. You can rub oil on your candle before burning, or you can melt your candle into a mix of herbs.

You can even toss carved Bee’s Wax wrapped in specific herbs into a fire for an instant spell!

This is one area where you can get very creative and try different things.

Carving Your Candles

Here is another exciting element to Candle Magick. Well, at least, I get excited about it. I find this fun and intriguing.

Take a hot needle or blade tip, and carve Magickal symbols into your wax candle. The symbols you use should directly relate to your working and can be simple or detailed. You can even carve specific words, chants, or mantras into the wax.

How’s that for focus?!

In Conclusion…

To wrap up this post, I have highlighted some major points you can consider about Candle Magick. To me Candle Magick is very personal. Ultimately, how you practice this art should be based on your personal preferences, needs, and desires.

Candle Magick allows for the use of colour, oils, flowers, herbs, incense, potions, inscription, and more. One of my favourite forms of candle Magick is making a centrepiece or floating candle arrangement when relative come over for a visit. You can use Candle Magick in just about any situation for a variety of reasons, and most of the time no one, but you, will notice.

If you make your candles, you give yourself more options. You can mould wax into specific shapes. Candles can be split or melted together for to solidify your intention.  You can use a variety of colours, oil, herbs, potions, so on and so on.

Whether you use Candle Magick by itself or as an addition to your other workings, get out there and explore!

It is a beautiful Magickal Art!

I invite your feedback. Tell me what you think. How has this post helped you, and how have I inspired you. I love to know what my readers are up to and how you put my thoughts and experience to use in your world.

Also, if you have any suggestions on subjects for future posts let me know your thoughts. I’m listening.

Bright Blessing!

© 2014, The Magick Kitchen

http://www.themagickkitchen.com/practical-candle-magick/

[nattsocscorner]

[ meet the muse. ] - Asselin. *eyebrow wiglging*

[edit: Sedgemarch AU went under such a change all infos about it in this answer should be discarded!]

Thankyouuu! °3°

SoI have this character in many universes and AUs. There’s littlevariation to him, as he has a very strong personality, so theseanswers are by default, unless specified. Now, let’s meet thathandsome rogue!

➥ Whatis your character’s full name?:

AngeloMaria Adam Asselin Traversini.As he absolutely hates his firstand middle names, he goes with his first last name: Asselin. If askedby important enough people, he’ll give his two last names, pretendingthe first one is simply his first name.

➥When were they born?:

21stof june. The date depends of the universes (but in the majority of the universes, he’s in his early fourties).

➥What are their parent’s names?:

Marcello Vitu Asselin-Traversini for the father and Serena Maria di Salvo for themother.

➥Do they have any brothers or sisters?:

In all AUs but Sedge: Heprobably does, but he doesn’t know any of them. His parents wouldn’teven let him get to know them, as he’s dead to their eyes.In Sedge: he’s to have a baby sibling and has been raised with several kids the same age as he did, that he considered siblings by bond. His parents didn’t feel it necessary to have other children as they were around the other children and also considered them extended family. Both his parents adore him and the feeling is mutual in this universe.

➥What kind of eyes do they have?:

Hehas brown, hazelnut-coloured eyes. They are of normal, proportionateseize with his face. There’s that gleam of mischievousness into them.

➥What kind of hair do they have?:

Hehas short brown hair, with greying temples and a few strands of greyhair among the thick mass of hair. He doesn’t brush them often. Theperk of having short hair. He just needs to brush his fingers throughit and voilà!

➥What is their complexion like?:

He’s white, with a really easy tendency to tan. He’s part of these peoplewho won’t burn easily in exposure of the sun (in reasonable amounts of time of course)but will quickly develop a stronger tan.

➥What body type are they?:

Althoughit’s not always noticeable because he likes being in comfortable,larger clothes, he’s quite buff.

➥What is listening to their voice like?:

Intriguing.He has this rather low, slightly raspy voice and more often than not,he finds it amusing to play it “dark and mysterious”. Also, don’task him to sing. Ever. He’s a terrible singer. He knows it though andwill probably refuse to do it anyway.

➥What do they hate most about themselves?:

Thefact that he has to eat quite often. He’s one of these person whoburn energy fast and will need more food to compensate. If hedoesn’t get his food for any reason, his stomach will remind him in aloud way. Also (in all AUs but Sedge), may it be due to lack of energy resources or poorupbringing, he’ll feel grumpy if he spends a few days without eatinga bit of meat.

➥Do they have a favorite quote?:

He’dgo with Achard’s favourite: “I find the best cure for guilt,is to never get caught in the first place.”

➥What sort of music do they enjoy?:

Heenjoy melodic music. Not fond of ballads and sappy/sad romanticstuff, but he enjoys folkloric songs about old legends andbattles.In the modern AU, he enjoys hard/rock and country/blues.

➥Have/would they ever cheat(ed) on a partner?:

No.Asselin may show himself as flirty, he does have a strong sense ofhonour and even stronger feelings for Achard. Although they do havetheir agreements and show themselves to be polyamorous, he will nevertouch anyone before telling Achard… and possibly inviting him tojoin the fun.

➥Have they been cheated on by a partner?:

No.Before he met Achard, he had fleeting relationships but nothing“serious”. His partners could do whatever they wanted and so didhe. As he found himself falling in love with Achard and having astrong, long-term relationship with him, he also got to know theother man would never cheat on him.

➥Have they ever lost someone close to them?:

Luckily,no. He did loose a few companions when he was part of a gang, but hedidn’t care that much for them.

➥What is their favorite sound?:

Thesound of the rain smashing against a roof or windows when he himselfis inside, preferably in bed, under a dozen of blankets, a good firein the fireplace and his Achard cuddled up against him.

➥Are they judgmental of others?:

More often than not with the exception of rich people andnobles, in all universes but Sedge’s. Due to his upbringing in the lower class, his parents workingendlessly in their farm, noblety putting up heavy taxes and more orless abusing of their power towards poorer people got him to harboura certain bitterness towards them.

➥Have they ever been drunk?:

Yes.Many times. The next morning having him swearing he wouldn’t abuse ofsuch drinks anymore, only to get drunk again for some occasion. Heisn’t a regular drinker, thankfully, but if there’s a party orsomething to celebrate? He’ll be there to raise his glass!

➥What are they like when they stay up all night?:

Itdepends what for. If it’s due to something he likes or obtaining goodresults after helping Achard, coming back from a successful mission, etc. he’ll be tired but happy andsatisfied. If it is for a task he doesn’t like but has to do anyway,he’ll be grumpy and pissy until he gets to sleep.

➥Have they ever been arrested?:

Hedid, more than once… But he’s slippery as an eel and managed to gethimself out of most situations. Most. There may have been a couple oftimes where he had to use the help of a few contacts, or have Achardbail him out. He isn’t proud of the latter.

➥What evokes strong memories for them?:

In all AUs but Sedge: thesmell of curry spices. Not only these are linked to, of course,Achard’s cooking, it evokes the smell of cooking of one of his aunts,who took care of him after he ran away from his parent’s house.

In Sedge: the smell of orange flower after his first holidays in Corsica, as he might have added it a tad too much every time he was to eat fresh goat cheese.

➥What do they do on rainy days?:

Whenhe is not out for a mission, he enjoys taking it easy. Do small housetasks if needed, rest and enjoy a good meal. And of course, spend agood time snuggling and relaxing with Achard.

➥What religion are they?:

In all AUS but modern & Sedge: Ifhe didn’t know there were some serious Elder Gods bullshit going on,he’d define himself as an atheist (But then, he thinks it’s maybe atad exaggerated to call these creatures “gods” just because theywant to enslave or destroy people.). He simply couldn’t care lessabout religion, it’s not his thing at all and overly religious peopletend to piss him off. He tends to be fine with it as long as peopledon’t shove it into his face though.

In the modern AU, completely and utterly atheist.

In Sedge: he’s pretty much agnostic, going by the motto: “Religion is like a penis, it’s cool if you have it but don’t shove it in my face.”

➥What word do they overuse the most?:

“Fuck.”And its derivatives.

➥What do they wear to bed?:

Ifit’s cold outside, he wears a long shirt and maybe socks he’d tossoff in the night. If it’s not, he’s fine wearing just underwear or nothing at all. He’d alwayshave Achard to warm him up anyway.

➥Do they have any tattoos or piercings?:

No,except in the modern universe, where both his forearms are tattooedwith geometrical patterns. In the other universes, he’s consideringit… Consider an enchanted tattoo as a lucky charm. He isn’t one forpiercings onto himself, although he enjoys the aesthetics of it.

➥What type of clothing are they most comfortable in?:

Overall,he enjoys clothes that are a tad large and comfortable. A simpleshirt and trousers is the base. If going to a mission, he adds awaistcoat where he can slide his weapons onto (along with belts that have satchels and sheaths attached to) and a long coat (thefabric it’s made of depends of the season).In the modernuniverse, he does enjoy the classy shirt/waistcoat combo but his personalfavourite is wearing tshirts with bad puns/jokes and jeans or your classic, black trousers. Leather jackets are the cherry on top.

➥What is their most disliked food?:

in All AUs but Sedge: Hecan eat a bit of everything but he doesn’t like celery or radish and simply hates unsalted soup with toomuch water and too little vegetables into it.Maybe he got too many of these when he was a kid.

In Sedge: just celery or radish.

➥Do they have any enemies?:

In all AUs but Sedge: Mostdefinitely. Whether it is people he crossed while hunting for anitem, noble people he stole specific items from or people he gave abeating to while they were bothering a weaker person, a friend orAchard. And if Achard has enemies? Then these are his enemies aswell!

In sedge: Anyone that goes against Juliette Richards & his family is automatically his enemy.

➥What does their writing look like?:

Asidein the modern universe & Sedge, where his writing is a bit messy, Asselindoesn’t know how to write. He didn’t go to school, as he was destinedto be like his parents, an illiterate farmer. Achard is teaching himhow to write and read and (although he finds it a tad boring) he’sreally thankful to get the chance to become educated on that point.Reading and writing would help greatly in deciphering maps andfinding secrets!

➥What disgusts them?:

People(especially the upper class/rich/noble/powerful ones) taking advantage of weakerpeople. He has a rooted despise against abusive people and if hewitnesses a situation he finds unfair (and sees he has a chance toget out of it without being killed), he’ll intervene in the instant.

[witchybitchys]

Another get to know me post bc i’m hella bored & why not.

 What is you middle name? My middle name is Lauren - God knows why, I think my parents plucked that name out of thin air.

 How old are you? I’m 21 (But I look about 12)

 When is your birthday? April 19th 1995. I’m so old.

 What is your zodiac sign? I was born on the Aires/Taurus cusp! but I relate more to the traits of a Taurus. 

 What is your favourite colour? I really love dark colours. I’m a little bit obsessed with dark green at the moment. Black has to be my fav tho.

 Do you have any pets? I have a little tabby cat called Lulu! she is the apple of my eye. I’ll never forget the day we rescued her and welcomed her into our home!

 Where are you from? A really boring town Called Barrow, located in the North-West of England. seriously tho - never come here.

 How tall are you? I’m a smol bean. I’m exactly 5″1. But that means I’m the same height as gaga so idc ;)

 What shoe size are you? My feet are odd! there are times that I’ll fit into a 3 and times I’ll fit into a 4??

.What talents do you have? *cries internally* I suck at most things... i’d like to say that I’m good at being a domestic goddess?? 

Are you psychic in any way? I don’t think so! although yesterday I predicted that I’d get an email of UCAS & I did... SOO MAYBE I AM.

Favourite song? Marry the Night OR born this way??? both songs have such meaningful lyrics that have helped me through so much crap.

Favourite music artist? LADY GAGA OFC. THAT WILL NEVER CHANGE.

Favourite movie? I can’t really think?? I watched the curious case of Benjamin button the other night & i really enjoyed it. 

 Who would be your ideal partner? I’m already with my ideal girlfriend! she’s my best friend & the love of my life. I’m so lucky to call her mine.

Do you want children? Yes! I’d like two children - bc I grew up as an only child & it sucked so much.

Do you want a church wedding? naah, I’d like to get married somewhere fancy. Tbh, churches kinda freak me out.

 Are you religious? My only religions are Lady gaga, cats and Chicken nuggets.

Have you ever been to the hospital? Too many times. :’)

Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Not really... I’ve been told of by the police for trespassing and underage drinking (i was such a badass)

 What colour socks are you wearing? I’m not wearing any bc wearing socks in bed is sickening. 

What type of music do you like? I really like 80′s music along side Lady Gaga, Lana Del Ray & lots of other stuff that I cba typing.

What do you typically have for breakfast? I usually skip breakfast but, sometimes I’ll grab a cereal bar or smth.

What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? I was once awake for a solid 24hrs and it was gross. I was awake at 5am for work & that same night I went out drinking with becca... but she drank too much & was throwing up / passing out SOOO I had to stay awake and look after her until like 5am.

Do you have any scars? yes! I have a couple on my head from when I was younger, a few on my legs from falling out of trees & one on my wrist from the time I got it caught in a suitcase :’)

Have you ever had a secret admirer? YES... an old man left me a cactus and some chocolates at work once. He always asks me to go out for drinks too :/ i stg he’s like 90.

Do you have a strong accent? I’ve been told by multiple people that I sound very Northern. Its always the first thing people comment on when I open my mouth.

 What is your favourite accent? I love, love love the Australian accent. It does things to me.

 What is your personality type? INFJ.

 Are you scared of spiders? Totally depends on the size of them... I can handle little ones BUT NOT THE FAT ONES.

 Favourite food? Probably has to be pasta or sweet chilli chicken wraps? OH, or chicken nuggets.

 Favourite foreign food? I’m really fussy when it comes to foreign food. I’d say I like Chinese food... but that’s basically chips, rice and curry sauce. I want to try more tho. 

Are you a clean or messy person? I’m pretty clean tbh. I enjoy cleaning?? I often clean Becca’s room for her bc i’m the best.

Most used word? .... LIKE.

Do you talk to yourself? ALLL the fucking time... and I even answer myself sometimes.

Do you sing to yourself? yeah, i can’t sing for shit tho.

Biggest Fear? Being abandoned by the people I love (welp that was deep)

Favourite school subject? I really enjoyed science.

Extrovert or Introvert? It all depends on who I’m with!

Are you ticklish? Yes and anyone who knows me v well will know they will get a foot to the face if they try and tickle them

Have you ever drank underage? Yeah, i got caught by the police tho. It was the last day of school and we broke into this huge abandoned hall and it was pretty cool tbh.

Who was your first real crush Lmfao I had a huge crush on a girl who worked in a coffee shop??? how tragic :’) but then I went on a date with a girl to that exact coffee shop & I fell for her and forgot about the petty coffee girl crush.

 How many piercings do you have? I have my ears, my helix and my nose pierced atm.

How fast can you run? hahahaha. i cant run for more than 30 seconds without losing my breath

 What colour is your hair? Dark brown atm. It’ll no doubt be 50 shades of brown in a few weeks tho.

 What colour are your eyes? My eyes are really blue. 

 What are you allergic to? *laughs* I’m allergic to scented shower gel & basically anything that has perfume in it. I hate my skin.

 Do you keep a journal? Yes, I like to journal whenever I have time. I journal no matter what mood I’m in however, I write more if I’m in a bad mood or I’m stressed / anxious - its a great way to reduce bad feelings.

What do your parents do? My mum is a theatre sister & my dad is a health and safety manager at b.a.e systems (not bae systems) 

What makes you angry? I fucking DESPISE it when people cough too many times in a short period of time (I know that sounds petty af) but it goes right through me and idek. 

Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? I really like the name Imogene for a girl & Harrison for a boy.

 Do you want a boy a girl for a child? If the baby is healthy, that’s all that should matter!

 What are you strengths? I make a mean soft boiled egg. :’)

What are your weaknesses? I get jealous too easy and I find it hard to control. I also find it difficult to express my emotions - i bottle things up for too long and then I lose control.

 How did you get your name? My dad picked my name bc my mum wanted to call me Olivia & my dad hated it. 

Color of your bedspread? Black & white.

 Color of your room? White and a really, really deep red. I decorated my room as a little project to help pick me up during depression - i really wanted to paint it black but I wasn’t allowed fml.