#i. * study : → no satisfaction from earthly needs .

[ritueldelagneau]

CARD 🜏 ANALYSIS

Major Arcana 01: The Magician

The Magician, marked by the numerical 01, is a stark representation of the way earthly existence and ascended spirituality are linked together. It is a symbol of universal potential, intuition, and self-attained opportunity. Unlike its predecessor, The Fool, an aura of innocence is cloaked in knowledge attained through a life of spiritual study and fulfilment.

Manifestation. Resourcefulness. Willpower. Logic.

vers.

Greed. Illusion. Impulse. Untrustworthy.

YES AND NO . . .

The Magician, especially when upright, is an affirming yes. There is a positive connotation between The Magician and manifest destiny-- you are being called to make that choice and make it bravely. You are supported by your deity/ies, by the universe, and should not hesitate to act.

When reversed, exercise caution. There is likely an added layer of nuance to your query-- perhaps one you haven't mulled over yet. You may face obstacles, conflict and friction as a side effect of your choice-- however in the end, it is most likely to be a good one overall, as long as you take careful steps.

UPRIGHT INTUITIONS . . .

In upright position, The Magician signifies your potential. You have power within you, and you can use that to reach your aspirations. When you combine your spiritual energy with your earthly intentions, you can create the synergy to succeed.

Clear your mind, form a plan of attack, and strike. The time is right to exact your intentions, and bring your goals to fruition. Commit to your goals, and they shall be done. When visited by the upright Magician, feel empowered.

LOVE & SENSUALITY:

An upright Magician, in regards to love, is a positive omen. That is, if commitment is what you seek. In a new relationship, The Magician predicts a shift from casual to serious. Your partner(s) may be interested in commitment-- and if you feel so inclined, now would be a good time to assert that you are, too. If you currently lack any romantic prospects, The Magician may intuit that someone new may be headed your way.

As for new sensuality, The Magician clues in an aspect of assertiveness. Do not be afraid to take the reigns and communicate what you want. Committal or not-- you are in control.

When considering relationships of more age, it exerts a similar aura of commitment. You and your partner(s) are likely in it for the long haul-- and that is not something to take lightly! Appreciate this knowledge that you are in a stable, supportive place.

The sensuality that follows an aged relationship is also a bit different from that of a new one. You may be interested in taking the reigns in a way you have not before. This doesn't necessarily mean you're interested in dominating, but maybe that you are interested in letting your partner(s) be guided into something you want. Do not be afraid to teach your partner(s) exactly how you would like to be pleased. Where the upright Magician is concerned, you will likely leave the encounter deeply satisfied.

CAREERS & FINANCES:

Predictably, a financial AND career-based advisory from the upright Magician is simple: potential for more. However, the clues this potential holds differs in action. Remember: The Magician guides you to not only see your potential, but understand how to make use of it.

In your career, it is a great time to make bold, decisive choices. Show your commitment, aptness to succeed, and set sights on achieving your goal. With the right sense of determination, and an idea of what you want in your career, that potential can be used to its full capacity. You have the skills needed to achieve--now, you just have to strive for it.

In regards to finances, now may be a good time for keen spending-- you are in good alignment to see a successful return of your investments. Consider deeply what is and is not worth investing in, and do not hesitate to spend if your intuition feels positive. You will likely be paid back tenfold... Be it in money, satisfaction, or material goods.

REVERSED INTUITIONS . . .

Reversed, The Magician is a less opportunistic muse. Instead, it foreshadows many potential rocks in the path that is your potential.

You may be blinded to your opportunities. Distractions, weakness in your self-confidence, and a lack of keen mind can all wound your ability to seek a successful path.

There may be a liar in your midst. Unfortunately, you may be faced with manipulators, liars, and illusionists-- The Magician warns you to keep a watchful eye, and know whom you can (and cannot) trust.

You may be falling into your own misbehavior. This is an important one to keep in mind-- as this means you may have slipped from your own spiritual roots. Reconcile with yourself, your diety/ies, and your goals. Are you acting out of shortsighted greed?

However, not every omen of The Magician is negative when reversed. It can also be a neutral sign that you are approaching a goal, however struggling to see it bear fruit. You may face adversity in the coming future-- however The Magician is here to remind you that you can realign, and with some good planning and a deep breath, hop right back on track.

LOVE & SENSUALITY:

With love and sensuality in mind, bad omens can come from two sources: you, or your partners. The Magician will never point a finger at just others-- you are called to first consider yourself.

In a new relationship of romantic and/or sensual nature, it's important to consider that someone may not be being upfront about their intentions, needs and desires. You may be at odds with intentions and honesty. In new sensual relationships, it is extra important to consider that The Magician may be warning you to consider if this is a good move for your spiritual health.

In an aged relationship of romantic and/or sensual nature, it's important to consider that someone may have fallen into a habit of omitting honesty to reduce conflict and friction. There may be a barrier prohibiting open, truthful communication. In regards to sensuality, it's important to question if you (or your partner[s]) may be using sex to cope with a bigger underlying issue.

Remember that, although The Magician warns of deceit, this does not mean your partner(s) are trying to hurt you. Try to coax open those hard conversations and make sure you both feel supported-- communicating is difficult for a lot of people, but The Magician urges you to find the confidence to be honest anyway.

CAREERS & FINANCES:

Reversed, The Magician is a clue that you are not maximizing that potential that I've mentioned. You may have good ideas and skills-- but you aren't making use of them. It may feel like you aren't reaching the goals you've set as quickly as you wanted-- and it is likely at least partially true. Something is stopping you from working hard and striving for better. It may be self-doubt, or greed, or possibly simply not being satisfied in your current career path.

Financially, you are also likely not spending well. There is a chance you're spending money too recklessly-- making short term purchases too frequently, that minimize your potential to make big, satisfactory moves in the future. You may also not have enough money to succeed economically. Again, you might be stuck within a career that does not satisfy your needs-- a career that cannot afford for basic needs inevitably also causes friction within your psyche.

Consider ways to either make your current career more satisfactory, or seek better. However, The Magician's unlimited potential knows that this simply may not be the place for you. Trust that although things are off now, you will find where you're meant to be, as long as you trust yourself, your diety/ies, and the universe to place you there with time.

Remember! This is simply my own personal notes on what I have come to believe this card signifies. You may have other values, ideas, and concepts in mind for this card-- and that is okay! Spirituality is not a linear concept.

I offer digital tarot readings! Feel free to shoot me an ask, or a DM if the matter at hand is more private or sensitive to you. Free of charge, but I do accept tips.

[janeykath318]

Steve’s Christmas Miracle Chapter 6

Darcy had returned to the office with a deep feeling of bittersweet satisfaction and a strange longing she hasn’t felt for a long time. She was pretty sure she’d broken rule number one and that was a huge no-no. She immediately requested administrative duties for the foreseeable future as she struggled to come to terms with having fallen in love with her mission.

She was stamping and sorting files morosely when Natasha came in.

“Hey, Darcy. You look like you’ve lost your best friend. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Darcy lied, stamping the file of one Glenda Adams as “FAILED”.

“Don’t give me that. I can read you like a book.”

“Then you already know what’s wrong,” Darcy said petulantly, stamping the next file with a little more force than necessary.

“Maybe, but you need to talk about it someday.”

“I know. It just hurts a little too much right now,” Darcy admitted.

“Well, I’ll be here when you’re ready. Michael would like to see you in his office, though.”

Darcy looked up in alarm.

“Right now? Am I in trouble?”

“Yes, right now. And no, you’re not. I think he just wants a little debriefing, that’s all.”

She sighed and stamped the last file.

“Alright, I’m going.”

“You wanted to see me, Sir?” she asked, upon entering Michael’s office.

“Sit down, Darcy. You’re not in trouble. Agent Carter was concerned about you and I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Some of these missions can be quite a lot emotionally.”

Darcy sat down and nodded, not able to look him in the eyes. She decided to just confess and get it over with.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to break any rules, it was gonna be by the book. But then I went and broke rule number one,” she admitted. “It physically hurt to leave him. I’ve never had that happen before and now I’m upset with myself. I should be beyond that kind of thing now. I’ve been here eighty years, after all. He shouldn’t be allowed to be that cute and kind and sassy.”

She buried her face in her hands, embarrassed at her word vomit.

“Darcy, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” Michael told her gently. “You helped Steve find his path again. It wouldn’t have worked if you didn’t truly care for him. That was why we picked you.”

“I didn’t expect to care for him that much,” Darcy said miserably.

“I know,” Michael told her. “Listen, I might have a very special assignment coming up for you, but it’s one that needs to be approved by Higher Up. So, be patient for a bit and keep your chin up. I’ll let you know one way or the other.”

Now, heavenly time does not run at the same speed as Earth time, so while Steve was running around bringing his newfound Christmas joy to others, Darcy was working away patiently for several weeks, wondering when she’d hear about this special assignment.

Natasha came in one day, eyes sparking with delight, and practically dragged Darcy back to Michael’s office.

Michael was beaming at her, and she felt like something wonderful was about to happen.

“Good news, Darcy! You’ve been approved for this very, very special assignment!”

He passed her a folder and she flipped it open eagerly, eyes widening as she read what it said.

“Are you serious? I get a do-over on life?”

“To put it bluntly, yes,” Michael confirmed. “Though be aware it will come with the pain and struggles of earthly life again. I’m guessing though, that you will find it to be worth it. Agent Romanoff, give her the teaser trailer.”

“With pleasure!” Natasha declared, waving her hand.

A series of images flashed across Darcy’s visions: laughing on the back of Steve’s motorcycle, the breeze blowing her hair, studying on a computer for a college class, graduating and receiving a congratulatory kiss from Steve that made her cheeks heat just watching it, a glimpse of a ring sliding on her finger, and then a little dark haired baby in Steve’s arms. Growing old and creaky with Steve and slow-dancing in the kitchen. She gasped when the images finally faded.

“I want it.” She whispered. “All of it. Even the bad stuff.”

“I thought that might be the case,” Michael smiled at her. “We will certainly miss you up here, but you’ll be back one day. In the meantime, go and enjoy the life you’ve always wanted.”

“Thank you, Michael.” Darcy abruptly got up and scooted around the desk to give him an impulsive hug, which he accepted good-naturedly. Michael really was a gem.

“Agent Carter will get your documents in order so you will be able to have proper government ID. Agent Romanoff, will you take Darcy to wardrobe? She needs something more practical and festive.”

“Absolutely. Come on, Darcy,” Natasha ordered. “We’ll get you all ready to surprise the heck out of Steve.”

Darcy quite liked that plan and they soon found her a very cute outfit of black leggings, green sweater dress and sparkly belt, and the cutest boots she’d ever seen. Natasha also packed her a suitcase with some fuzzy slippers and Christmas pjs.

“There will be money provided for you to buy the other things you need when you get to earth,” Natasha told her. “And here comes Peggy with your documents!”

“Lovely,” Peggy complimented. “Put this packet in your suitcase and do not lose it. These are very important for starting your new life and entering the workforce. And tell Steve to do you a solid and get dancing lessons.”

Darcy grinned as she packed the papers away. “I will. He’s got a lot of potential in those long limbs.”

Peggy snorted. “I like you, Darcy. If we’d have known each other in life, I probably would have tried to recruit you to the SSR.”

“Why thank you. I would have enjoyed that,” Darcy acknowledged, flushing a bit at the compliment. She knew Peggy wasn’t one to throw them out there without meaning them.

“Are you ready?” Natasha asked.

Darcy took a deep breath.

“Yes.”

“Alright then. We’ll see you on the other side, Agent Lewis.”

As Darcy disappeared, Natasha stealthily stuck a bow on top of her head.

When she reappeared, she was on the porch of Steve’s little cabin. Taking a deep breath, she took in the wintry scene with delight, shivering a bit as well. It had been awhile since she’d felt cold.

She watched a motorcycle pull up the driveway and grinned when Steve pulled off his helmet. He came running toward her looking concerned.

“Darcy? How In the World?” he panted, stopping on the porch stairs, with a look of adorable confusion on his face.

“Merry Christmas,” she said, smiling at him a little nervously.

Steve’s confusion turned into a grin and he walked up to her and pulled something off of her head.

“Are you my present?” he asked teasingly, waving the red bow around.

She blushed and rolled her eyes.

“That was Nat’s doing. You know how she is.”

Steve laughed. “Yep. Seems about right. But in all seriousness, what’s going on?”

“Well, Steve. You’re not the only one who’s being given a second chance this Christmas. I haven’t had the ability to feel cold in almost a century, and here I am, back in a human body and getting goosebumps.” She held up her arm, shivering a bit.

Steve’s jaw dropped, but he quickly unlocked the door and steered her inside, piling her with blankets, then gently rubbing her cold hands with his.

“Are you saying you’re here to stay?” He asked hopefully.

Darcy was having trouble thinking coherently with him so close to her, but she nodded.

“I am. You’re gonna be my special assignment for the rest of our lives.”

Steve’s eyes twinkled and he smiled softly at her.

“I love the sound of that, Darcy. I might just have to kiss you now.”

“I’m on board with that,” she whispered.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Crow's Marriage

Pairing: crow!Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: yandere-ish Peter, slight obsession, allusion to dubcon, nudity, stalking.

Words: 2.5k

Summary: Stumbling upon a young crow while taking a swim in the pond, you realize there's bound to be some misunderstanding between the two of you.

P.S. Both Peter and reader are adults.

Btw, I was feeling sick while writing it, please forgive me any mistakes 🥲

_________

Dropping down to the ground with a battered notepad in hand, you whistled as you gazed upon the magnificent Tree of Life in all its glory, its mighty branches spread so wide that they seemed to extend to the very sun, and its lush foliage almost completely covering the sky above you. Goosebumps ran down your spine. You have finally found the finest specimen of this rarest species, the Tree of Life some people believed went extinct ages ago.

This will be the most amazing discovery of the century, you thought as you started making quick notes before drawing a sketch of the tree, inhaling the heavenly aroma spread by the foliage - it smelled like mint, lemons, and freshly-mown grass. 

With a passion for botany you developed in your early childhood, you spent your adult years at the Royal Academy, devoting all your time to the study of rare species of plants and trees, wishing to find those elven berries and fae’s elder trees and wolfhooks by yourself. It took a long time to persuade both Academy’s professors and your family to acknowledge your trip to the wildlands and sponsor it - you were convinced you were about to make a fantastic discovery the moment you took a step outside of the kingdom’s border. Of course, you were very naïve that time, but you didn’t regret your journey even the slightest bit. If anything, it was an honor and the most exciting adventure you have ever had.

Besides, thankfully, with your funding you could afford staying in the hotels or renting a little cottage, so travelling became much less hard - there were days where you could kill for a bucket of warm water, but most of the time you stayed not too far from human or fair folk settlements, taking care of your earthly needs. Not that you remained being a hothouse flower kind of lady you were in the Academy, but you didn’t look wild either, and most fair folk treated your like a respectable traveler, much to your satisfaction.

Talking about satisfaction, you remembered an old elf saying there were several lovely little ponds near the mighty tree trunk where you could take a quick bath - thanks to the nature of the Tree of Life, the waters were warm, and many talked about their healing qualities. You were determined to figure it out yourself as you stood up from the ground, grunting from the pain in your sore back, and headed over to the tree, still a little unsure if it all weren’t a dream.

Finding Tree of Life... everybody would be talking about it the moment you submit your notes to the Head of Botany department.

The closer you were to the Tree, the easier it was for you to lift your feet off the ground. You had to fight the urge to write it down in your notepad, afraid the effect would disappear if you stopped paying attention to your surroundings. Gods, you were really there! You were standing near majestic Tree of Life, touching its trunk! The Tree was so enormously big that it would take you at least several hours to just walk around it, and you couldn't suppress a giggle as you imagined faces of your professors when you'd show them your drawings.

Come to think of it, a whole city could be hidden somewhere on its branches, covered by the foliage, you said to yourself, raising your head to stare somewhere up, searching for this invisible city you would fail to find, of course.

When you finally reached the ponds, pretty pools filled with nearly crystal-clear water, each pond separated by the large roots of the Tree, you could barely contain yourself, stripping and leaving your clothes on the huge grey stone before slipping into the warm water. It felt heavenly, just like you expected it to be. No bath with milk, rose petals, and pink salt could even compare to this little pond with its shiny waters: you could swear they warmed up when you stepped inside as if the Tree itself was granting you comfort after your long journey. Truly, you had never stumbled upon anything as magnificent and magical.

It was hard to tell how much time you spent in the pond, washing away the sweat and dirt and giving a much deserved break to your sore body. You never admitted it to anyone, but your travel was tiring you beyond measure. Staying here even for a couple of days sounded like having a little vacation. In the end, you still had to complete your research, so it wouldn’t be a waste, anyway.

As you lied in the warm waters, surrounded by pretty water lilies and being deep in your thoughts, you almost missed the sound of flapping wings somewhere behind you, only opening your eyes when you heard someone’s quiet laugh.

There was a man standing on a large grey stone where you left your clothes and a bag you carried. He wore clothes of shiny black leather made so well that any tailor in the capital would turn green with envy at the sight of a jacket and pants fitting so snugly at the body of this stranger. But it wasn’t his clothes that riveted your gaze, but the huge, coal-black wings behind his back - they were so big you wondered how come you didn’t hear the man flying down to you. 

Damn, you were in deep, deep trouble, you thought as the man gave you a toothy grin, watching you humbly covering yourself with your palms as much as you could.

“Don’t hide,” he told you with a predatory smile, getting down on his knee and staring at you intently. “You’re pretty.”

He had a handsome face, and his quaint dark eyes changed color as he moved his head, turning either deepest shade of black or amber yellow, like a tiger's. The young man was slim and tall, and apart from the giant wings and his eyes, he looked very human to you, much more human than any of the fair folk. Who was he? Was he living somewhere on the branches of the Tree of Life, hidden by its leaves? Judging by young man's mighty wings, he could easily fly to its top.

“I-I am sorry to bother you,” you mumbled, ashamed of meeting a local in such circumstances, “b-but could you hand me my clothes, please?”

The man cocked his head to the side as if considering your request. Judging by the fact he was completely clothed, it was unlikely his kind preferred walking around naked. But then again, he was certainly a male, and you had no idea if the females of his kind would wear anything at all. It might be the case, actually, since the stranger picked up your garments and, instead of handing them to you, threw them somewhere to the tree, making it impossible for you to reach them unless you left the pond, completely bare.

You gasped, trying to hide in the water from his gaze. Maybe he looked like a decent human, but he certainly didn’t behave like one.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you my clothes instead,” he smiled, taking off his leather jacket with ease since his wings just slipped through the fabric as if by magic, and then extending it to you, waiting patiently until you moved in his direction, praying that he didn’t see your breasts or other parts of your body beneath water.

Was it some kind of local tradition to share their clothes with a stranger? Although it was a little suspicious, you didn't find it in you to argue, happy to have anything at all to cover yourself up - the man was eager to watch you, very much unbothered by your naked form. Apparently, his kind had different rules of decency compared to yours.

"I am Peter of Eastern Crows," the stranger said, smiling, inviting you to come closer as you nervously took a step forward, water dripping from your body as you covered yourself with your palms. "What's your name, woman?"

There was something animalistic in the way he called you a woman, but you decided to let it go, unaware of local customs. In the end, it was you who was in the wrong, barging in his territory without figuring out who lived there. Of course, you knew goblins often settled close to the Tree of Life, and you were prepared to meet them, but you could never imagine to stumble upon a flock of magic crows.

Hopefully, you didn’t make Peter angry with your careless actions, jumping in the pond before asking for his permission.

Telling him your name, you quickly snatched his jacket and pulled it on, feeling rather uncomfortable - you were drenched, and leather did little to absorb water, making you feel rather odd. Besides, the jacket was too short to hide your private parts, and you were left half-naked, regardless, meaning you had to keep timidly covering yourself with your hands.

But before you demanded him to hand you over your pants, the crow jumped in the water all of a sudden, making you choke on air as you stumbled back, afraid he would do something improper to you. You were suddenly aware he might consider you being naked in front of him some form of invitation, and it couldn't be good for you. Damn, why did you go in the pond without considering your surroundings? Just because some elf told you it's nice to take a swim there? How insane did you have to be to do that? You were an experienced traveler, but you still got so excited upon seeing the Tree you had forgotten any safety rules! Gods, if Peter mistook your actions as a sign of affection, you didn’t even want to think what he could do to you. You had to explain him the situation immediately.

"You are so, so pretty," he chanted, not caring about soaking his shoes and pants as he moved closer to you, forcing you to retreat further in the pond. "Don't be scared. I promise I'll be kind to you."

The more he talked, the more you realized he was under impression you were offering yourself to him. Shit, it was getting really dangerous, you thought as you felt water coming up to your chin as you stepped back - this pond was deeper than you thought.

"I'm afraid there's a misunderstanding," you mumbled as you saw Peter's pupils growing wider. "I'm just a traveler who wanted to take a swim. I have no intention of staying here and troubling you. Just give me a moment to get dressed, and I will leave."

His eyes darkened, "You don't like me, is that it? Because I don't look strong to you, right?"

Although you couldn't care less about the way he looked, half-way in the water with his wings completely drenched, you thought it would be unwise to voice your thoughts. Apparently, Peter was feeling a little self-conscious, and it was best not to provoke him.

"I'm strong enough, I swear! I could carry you on my back for two whole days without a stop! I'll... I'll build you a nice house up there, on the Tree. And I'll feed you good food! I promise, I'll bring you only the softest fruits and the sweetest honeydew you've ever tried!"

Restless, he moved in large steps, forcing you to retreat further until you suddenly stumbled on a slippery stone, covered with algae, and immediately fell into the water with a loud cry, scared as hell because you could no longer feel the bottom beneath your feet. You knew how to swim, of course, but Peter grabbed you before you could break the surface yourself, dragging you away from the pond so fast you had no doubts about him being a very strong crow.

As you were coughing and spitting water, he gently put you on your knees and slapped you on the back several times until you started to breathe properly, sprawled on the warm surface of the stone. Gods, he scared you to death. Of course, it was stupid to think you could drown in such shallow pond, but you were happy you were out of water, nonetheless.

"It's alright," the crow said, gently patting you on the back, one his wings gracefully covering your naked buttocks and legs. "I'm here."

It took you a couple of minuts to get a hold of yourself as you lied on the stone, slowly regaining your breath. Damn, it was one hell of an adventure, you could tell for sure. Out of all your travels, this certainly was the wildest one, you thought as you opened your eyes and stared at the winged man who was watching you with worry as he lied next to you. He was probably nervous about all this, too.

"I'm good," you exhaled, tired. "It's ok, really."

He muttered under his breath, "Thank goodness!"

Nevertheless, you couldn't find the strength to get up and gather your clothes, staying on your spot for a little longer as you inhaled deeply, feeling warm and smooth surface of the stone beneath your palms. You just needed to catch your breath before you would explain Peter it was a pure misunderstanding on his part about you putting yourself on display for him. Surely, he would understand. He was an intellectual, not some silly goblin with no brains. He would understand it was all one big mistake.

"I'm so sorry," the crow mumbled as he gently patted your back, and you thought his leather jacket you wore suddenly got dry as if by magic. "I should have been more careful. I didn’t know you're so fragile, but I'll treat you better, alright? Give me a few minutes, and I'll bring you to my home and dress you in warm clothes, and then we'll eat something sweet."

You let out a groan, opening your eyes to stare back at him. "Peter, I can't become your mate."

"Surely, you can!" His eyes went wide as he protested. "Crows take human wives and husbands, you don't need to worry about that! Besides, you showed yourself to me so I could choose you, and then you took my clothes, so it means you aren't repulsed by me either. I know you must still think I'm unreliable, but I can take care of you, I promise!"

Squeezing your eyes shut, you thought it's getting harder and harder to explain Peter he got it all wrong. You had no idea how to convince him you were just a simple botanist traveling the world, and, worse, it really looked like the crow wouldn't be easy to deal with.

"You'll be one of our flock before you even know it!" He exclaimed happily, and you felt his lips on your forehead as he caresses your back ever so gently.

Well, it will be a hell of a job to get things right, the two of you thought at the same time.

____________

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[walkswithmyfather]

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.” —Philippians 4:4‭-‬9 (NIV)

“I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” —John 15:11 (NIV)

“I have told you these things, that My joy and delight may be in you, and that your joy and gladness may be of full measure and complete and overflowing.” —John 15:11 (AMPC)

“Find Joy In All Things” Devotional (Day 5 of 5) - “Our Joy Matters to Jesus” By Melissa B. Kruger:

“What does it mean to choose joy, no matter the circumstances?”

“On the night before He died, Jesus shared a final meal and conversation with His disciples. What was Jesus concerned about as He prepared to leave those He loved?

In John 14–16 we read that Jesus comforted His disciples and encouraged them to not be troubled. He also taught them to abide. Apart from Jesus they could do nothing.

And then Jesus explained why He was telling them all these things. He said, “These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full” (John 15:11).

Jesus was concerned about our joy.

As I write these words right now, my eyes brim with tears. Love so amazing, so divine! At the height of His own agony, Jesus desired my joy and yours. It’s unbelievable, isn’t it? For the joy set before Him, Jesus endured the cross (Hebrews 12:2).

And Jesus wasn’t hoping for us to have a little bit of happiness. He wants us to have fullness of joy—overflowing, abundant. Our joy matters to Jesus.

Jesus is the source of our joy, and He’s the sustainer of it. Apart from Him, our lives are made up of empty, meaningless attempts to find satisfaction. We wander, desperately thirsty until we drink from Him. He’s the beginning and the end, the Alpha and the Omega. Every good gift is from His hand, and nothing good exists apart from Him. Our desire for joy is ultimately a desire for Jesus.

In Philippians, we see genuine joy. Joy begins with salvation and increases as we experience true fellowship, understand Christ’s lordship, partake in Christ’s humility, and obey God’s Word. As we grow in faith, our desires change. We long to know Jesus. We place our hope in heavenly joys rather than earthly circumstances. We pray with thanksgiving rather than fret with anxiety. We give generously to further the work of the gospel.

Just as Paul learned the secret of being content in plenty and in need, as we grow in our dependence on God, we bloom into women of joy.

My final words to you reflect my deepest desire for you: Don’t stop studying God’s Word. Abide in God, pray to Him, seek Him continually.

May His joy be in you, and may it be full.”

Amen! 🙏🕊️🙌

[meibemeibelline]

BTS on rest and finding their joys in life: some fav excerpts from Vogue 2021

Vogue BTS Special

JIN: “The meaning of the word ‘rest’ seems to have changed,” he says. “I think that resting should be entirely selfish. However, a lot of people try to do something useful in their free time, like something that will help them pad out their résumé. But I believe that uselessness is useful! I believe that you need to have days that other people consider wasteful, to be able to focus more on useful things later.” Ironically, Jin can commit himself more to his regular work routine because he appreciates the value of “lazy time.” “You know the saying: ‘I bend my knees only to jump higher’” he says with a laugh.

SUGA: “I think I’m happier now,” he confides. “I’ve realized that happiness doesn’t require much, and it can be quite simple. I used to think material things would give me happiness, and I worked hard to achieve them. But when I succeeded, I wasn’t so sure anymore. I don’t have many earthly desires anyway,” he says with a laugh. “Perhaps it’s because I now know that material things no longer give me great satisfaction. So now, I try to find happiness in simple things, such as getting up early in the morning and having decaf coffee. I’m glad I’ve finally got to experience this kind of joy. What I lost would be being ordinary. Your ordinary is my extraordinary, right? But I think time will solve this issue.”

RM: “When we went abroad, we stayed in our hotel rooms except when we were working,” RM relates. “The only places I could go then were museums. The art galleries full of Monets or van Goghs were always crowded, but when I visited one weekday morning, and had them mostly to myself, I had a eureka moment — an artist who’d passed away a hundred years ago was communicating directly with a boy from Korea. I was so envious. From then on, I began seeking out and learning about Korean painters. I’m the type of person who dives right in once I get intrigued by something. These days, I’m fascinated by art, and it’s exhilarating. The intellectual stimulation I get from studying art history is immense.”

J-HOPE: Now that he has achieved all his aims and dreams, what more does he want? “As I always say, I learn a lot working on albums,” he admits. “I think I came to like myself a little more and was able to grow as a person while working on the Love Yourself album. These days, I muse about what happiness means. Sometimes, I receive less comfort from human beings than from animals like dogs — small creatures that I can’t even talk to. Small interactions like that give me lots of happiness.”

JIMIN: During the interview, Jimin often prefaces his sentences with “I’m happy,” “It’s good” and “I’m glad.” This shows that, as an ordinary person, Jimin Park has made the most of his downtime during the pandemic. He says, “I thought about myself, what I liked, what I didn’t like, what my preferences were. I had a lot of time for reflection, and I learned a lot. These days, I’m more than just fine. I feel I’m allowed to be happy.” When asked what exactly he discovered about himself, he smiles mischievously and says, “That I’m very lazy! Taking a shower feels like such a chore, so I take off one layer of clothing and walk around for half an hour before shedding another layer.”

While on the road to superstardom, he once mused, “What is it I really want to do apart from achieving perfection as a singer?” Recently, though, he seems to have learned to let things go. “I didn’t have any hobbies back then, and I was distressed whenever I left the stage,” he admits. “That was probably why. But now I don’t ask that question anymore. Instead, I work out every day and meet friends, and I’m content with that. I started running, and at first I felt like I was dying after 2.5km. But now I can run as far as 8km. The reason I got into running was that the sound of the breeze silenced my inner voice. I used to hate being alone because there were too many thoughts going around in my head, and it scared me, but now I feel I need time alone. Running helps clear my mind.”

V: “I want to be close friends with the members of ARMY, and I talk to them on Weverse whenever I have a problem or something I want to share,” he explains. “This is how I want to interact all the time — I don’t like a businesslike approach to anything. I take photos because I like to, I do things because I like them and I approach people because I like them. I accept that you sometimes need a business mindset, but I’m not very good at that. That’s my weakness.”

JUNGKOOK: Hopefully, Jung Kook will soon be enjoying a change of scenery. He was thrilled by the chance to visit the UN General Assembly to sing “Permission to Dance” in September 2021... “there was something extra when we filmed a video with dancers on the lawn in front of the UN General Assembly. Having fun dancing and singing together outdoors made me feel that better days were on the way. I felt that the day was drawing near when we’d be able to meet ARMY up close, or the day when I could go out alone at dawn and enjoy tasty snacks.” I ask whether it is even possible for a superstar to go to a late-night restaurant alone, but Jung Kook smiles and says, “There’s always a way.”

[ruinous-robes]

Suneater Chapter 2: The Spider and the Stormfront

Howdy, finally got another chapter put out! Again, no real warnings this time. Next chapter we get to meet a new character >:D

Honor knew that he was Merit’s greatest disappointment.

He wasn’t belittling himself; it was simply the truth.

His earliest memory was of her scowling face snapping harshly at him as she scribbled furiously across her endless, bloodstained paperwork as he scrambled back apologetically (he’d only wanted to see— ). He remembered leaning against her massive, hearth-warmed side, snuggled under her wings, all the while trying to pretend that it was not only begrudging indifference that allowed him to doze there, but something akin to love. A distant, secluded kind of love. He recalled the great huff of her breath, the twitch of her irritated tail, and how he’d felt so small against her gargantuan side — like she would always tower over everything in his little, private world, would always be the great obstacle between him and the scary places beyond; that she was just a distant protector, like the sentries placed outside their dens — barely dots on the dark, murky horizon — and not so actively begrudging of his quiet presence in her cramped little study like the other pups said about how she felt about him.

But Merit was not so sentimental as to believe in love. No, to her, Honor was a nuisance who would one day, hopefully, bring her some kind of prestige amongst the Tapestry they called home. Maybe, some day, he’d grow up to be the same heartless, all seeing monster as his mother — stronger, even. Maybe, she’d see him become a true Acolyte of the Fatespinner, one who shunned all earthly emotions and spoke face to face with the Spinner themself. There had not been such a wolf in centuries. But her bloodline was strong, and Honor had been sworn by every eldest Spider in the Tapestry that he was something special. A Weaver who would be truly magnificent, a wolf meant to touch the stars.

Honor was never going to be that wolf. He knew that. He was perfectly okay with that, in fact. It simply wasn’t the path meant for him; he knew his fate was something far more treacherous, and infinitely more painful.

And that fate had stopped knocking at the door. Honor had slammed it shut, so it just crawled in through the window on skittering, terrible legs.

Merit still hadn’t deemed to so much as look at him. Her claws still scritch-scritch-scritched against the parchment, dragging and forming short, concise paragraphs, as was her way — ever practical, ever shrewd, the picture of a perfect Weaver, the perfect leader. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of trying to get her attention. He simply sat in silence, waiting on her to start the conversation; she could put it off for as long as she liked. Nothing would change the outcome, and the low setting of her ears, angry and so painfully obvious even as she tried to feign indifference, gave away everything Honor needed to know.

The Fatespinner had indeed intervened with her schemes.

It felt like ages before Merit seemed to realize that Honor was not going to speak first. She rolled up her scrolls and wiped the ink from her claws with a deep sigh.

“I don’t need to tell you why I summoned you. I’m certain you know,” she said, her voice hard and deadpan. Her icy blue eyes (every day he was thankful he had gotten his father’s green ones, even if he had never met the wolf in person) bore into him with feigned disinterest, but he had long since learned to find the barely contained disdain she had for him.

“If I am correct, you summoned me in order to berate me about how I better not ruin your reputation with my condemnable nonsense, so why don’t we just cut to the heart? Where is my Loom?” Honor had no time for this. A storm was brewing over the southern coast — where he would be flying in order to reach the elusive Anthills Oasis — and if he didn’t leave soon, he’d be tossed like a rag doll through it.

“Watch your words, boy,” she snapped. “I already have half the mind to disregard the Spinner’s instructions and send another in your place. Frankly, I don’t think you’re capable of the indifference needed, but we are all but servants to the Divine, even if I think they’ve made a mistake.”

“My loom, Mother.”

She looked, for a moment, as if she was going to argue over the semantics of whose loom it truly was, but she just glared and held out her wing.

“Right here.”

From across her wing membranes, a large brown… thing hopped across, landing on the table. It was approximately the shape of a spider, with eight legs and eight dark, glittering eyes, but it moved too stiffly, and its legs were thick and oddly jointed. It looked like a wooden wind up toy, and most importantly, it was most certainly not Honor’s loom.

Before he could protest, Merit explained, “You do not know every Weaver secret, son. Do not look surprised. This is the Faerie Loom, and every fae artifact has its tricks. This one can turn into a spider for transport, and it will follow its master’s every command. When it was created, it was meant to listen only to the instructions of the High Spider who struck the truce with Faerieland. However, it’s not good form to tie an entire magical object to one person, so they struck a caveat. The loom must have a name given to it by its master, and if it’s revoked, it’ll take the next name it is given, and follow the new wolf in thanks.”

Merit now stared down at the spider-loom. “You’ve been Widow long enough,” she intoned. “You have no name now, and thus no purpose. Leave my service.”

Instantly, the little creature froze, like its mechanics had suddenly locked up as if in disbelief. Then, in the next moment, it hid its gemstone eyes behind two legs, and made a mournful little clicking sound, like it was crying.

Honor immediately felt awful for it and reached out his wings, scooping it up. It only continued to cry, trembling in his grasp, unsoothed from its pain

Merit only watched the display with mild disgust. “Name it once more — anything but Widow — and it will be tied to you and follow any command you give it.”

Honor looked down at the spider-loom, still crying, and soothed, “It’s alright, my friend. You know me, and I’m sorry I haven’t named you before, Recluse. You are always welcome by my side.”

As quickly as it had come, the crying stopped, and Recluse hopped up happily, springing in place before skittering up his neck to perch happily between his ears. He felt it settle there heavily, and now it radiated just a little bit of warmth. It was… nice.

“No other will be able to command it. I have given its ownership to you.” Merit snorted a laugh, almost to herself. “Never say I didn’t do anything to help you succeed.”

“Why didn’t you show me this before?” he asked. “I’ve had the loom for years now. It would’ve been nice to be able to move it.”

Merit waved her wing dismissively. “Because I knew you would act on impulse and run with it. I’m no fool, Honor. You hate it here almost as much as everyone else dislikes your staying. That loom was the only thing keeping you rooted.”

That, and whatever the Fatespinner showed you that scared you. Merit didn’t say it, but Honor felt it.

“But now I’m leaving under the orders of the Spinner, so you’re letting it go,” he said.

“It’s not like anyone else has any use of it. I’d rather lose a useless display piece than have you embarrass me by being unable to Weave on the average loom,” she said, turning away from him and back to her papers. “It was merely practical. But other than that, you may take anything you can carry with you. I suggest you travel light. You intend to fly over the sea to avoid Mistvale and the rest of Murkwood, yes?”

Honor nodded. Weavers were not well received in Murkwood. It was safer to brave the water and stick close to the edges of the continent.

“Good, then you have listened once in your life. Travel lightly, then. I’m sure you have seen the storms, and Weavers are well received in Goldsea; you needn’t bring much that they cannot supply.” At Honor’s shocked expression, she laughed — harsh and grating as sandpaper. “Don’t look so surprised. The Spinner has given me some insight into your web. At least enough to know where you are headed. If you have no other questions, you are free to leave.”

Honor bowed, as was customary. Recluse scuttled down his neck to settle in his chiton, unhappy with being disturbed from its perch.

“And Honor?” Merit called.

He wondered what she was about to say. He knew this was likely the last time he’d ever see his mother in person; she probably knew that as well.

“Do not disappoint me.”

He should’ve known better than to hope. Hope was dangerous.

With Merit’s last words turning any doubt on his tongue to ash, he packed quickly. All he took was a small stash of pebbles and moonstones, some travel rations, a few cloaks, a quilt. Finally, he pulled out his first tapestry, and tucked it away in his packs as well. He knew he didn’t need it, but it felt wrong to leave it.

Honor said goodbye to no one. He knew no one would miss him or wish him well, so instead he surfaced from the Tapestry Warren, and called out softly.

“Filigree? You out here?”

His companion was a young Kickstart Crane who, supposedly, had chosen his cradle as a nest when he was tiny. She’d been his companion ever since, but the dark, cold hallways didn’t agree with her fiery warmth and bright metallic feathers, so she spent most of her time above ground.

Filigree lighted down next to him silently moments later, graceful feet touching down on soft moss. He wondered if Goldsea soil was as damp and squishy under his paws.

We are leaving, aren’t we? Filigree asked, speaking into his mind. It was the talent of the Kickstart Cranes; once bonded with a companion, they could communicate with them without speaking.

Honor nodded, and swallowed around the knot in his throat. Recluse seemed to notice his worry, and patted his neck soothingly with a wooden leg. He smiled wobbly.

“We’re gonna save him. We have to.”

Filigree didn’t respond. Instead shesimply spread her wings, waiting for him to take off, as if to say, after you.

With a final deep breath of damp, early morning air, a final feel of the lichens and soil beneath him, and a final silent goodbye to the only home he’d ever known, he took off with a running start, soaring up, up, up above the trees, until the wind roared loud enough in his ears to drown out the thundering of his heartbeat.

Again, the same story that his weavings always told him, in that voiceless singsong echoed in his head, growing louder as his wing beats took him closer and closer to his destiny. His Suneater.

There once was a wolf who loved the earth, but chased the sun.

He was as fast as the moon and stars, and one day, he came very close to catching it.

Below, all the creatures cheered him on, but the earth knew it was a doomed quest, and cried, for its words could not reach the wolf, high in the sky as he was.

As the wolf sank his teeth into the sun’s surface, he caught fire and fell all the way back down, blazing like a star as he went and struck down in a bed of yarrow and black clay.

The earth covered his broken body with mountains and rivers, and never again loved anything that walked its surface.

He pumped his wings faster as the story concluded. By now he knew the words by heart.

A storm is coming, he thought, and I intend to stop it.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Azirafeast - The Feast of Aziraphale

Yo I heard there was a thing and I wrote you all a fic...and then it kind of got out of hand...The first bit was the story I meant to tell, but for once I succumbed to the urge for a soft epilogue or two. Enjoy!

30 Days after Creation

Angels did not get time off, certainly not angels whose sole purpose on Earth was to guard the Gate to the Garden at the Heart of Creation.

Even if the Gate, strictly speaking, didn’t exist.

Keeping the flaming sword well back from anything that might burn, the Guardian pushed his free hand through the vines and ran it across the rough stone wall for what felt like the thousandth time. Still solid.

The Archangel had explained that it would remain so, that the Eastern Gate would only appear should something go wrong.

“What could go wrong?” the Guardian had asked, worried.

“Many things,” The Archangel had responded with an impressive wave of one of his wings. “But so long as our Guardian stays vigilant, Evil will never enter the Garden.”

“Right.” The Guardian had swelled with pride, clutching his sword. “Ah. Sorry. Is Evil entering the Garden one of the things that could go wrong, or would that be the cause of the things going wrong?”

“Well…”

“And if it’s the cause, doesn’t that mean evil doesn’t enter through the Gate, since it won’t be there yet?”

“I suppose…”

“But then, if Evil in the Garden is what creates the Gate, wouldn’t it be better for me to be, well, proactive? Patrol the Garden, see that nothing is out of place, that sort of thing? Certainly would be a better use of this sword, to hunt down Evil before it could cause trouble!” He had waved it a little in his excitement.

“That’s not—”

“Then again, is Evil a being or is it an action? In which case, the better thing to do would be to stay close to the humans and make sure they stayed out of trouble, wouldn’t it?”

The Archangel had pressed his lips together and narrowed a large number of violet eyes, looking far from happy. “That seems to be quite a lot of questions.”

“Ah.”

And so, The Guardian stood protecting a gate that didn’t exist to prevent Evil which may or may not be a physical presence from entering a Garden he couldn’t see much of.

But he was an angel. He was devoted to his task. He had no need for time off to explore the forest (even though there were no forests in Heaven), or to investigate the exciting smells that came from the flowers nearby (certainly no flowers in Heaven).

There was also, apparently, no need for him to become better acquainted with the humans, to find out what they spoke of and why they laughed so much. (Technically there was laughter in Heaven, but the human version sounded much nicer.)

And so, day by day, he stood, watching the few trees and bushes in his field of vision, checking to make sure the wall was still solid. Birds flew past, the occasional four-legged creature trotted by, some with more fur than others. They took no notice of him.

And the humans. They were always together, and often accompanied by other animals, birds sitting on their shoulders, wolves following at their heels. More than once he saw the Woman walk past with a large rabbit in her arms, running her fingers through its fur. Other times they carried fruits, nuts, sometimes tubers, eating as they walked.

The humans did notice him, nodding as they passed, but never spoke to him, any more than they would speak to a tree or to the wall itself. He was simply part of the Garden to them. They never questioned his presence. They never questioned anything.

Then, on the thirtieth day, something changed.

The Guardian had just shifted the sword to his left hand for a bit, to give the right a break, when he heard something shift in the bushes. He spun towards it, raising his weapon to strike the Evil creature – but it was only the Woman. She stood half behind a bush, hidden up to nearly her shoulders. No, hiding wasn’t quite the right word – her face was plainly visible – yet she didn’t step past it.

There was something different about her eyes that day. They seemed more focused, intent. She looked at him directly. “Why do you stand there?” she asked, head tilted to the side.

“I…” Was he supposed to answer? Was it allowed? “It is my duty. I’m the Guardian. I guard the Gate.”

“What’s a gate?”

“Well, it’s, ah…it’s an opening in a wall, that things can come through. Large and impressive usually,” he added. The Gates in Heaven were very nice indeed.

“Can I see it?” She stepped a little closer, eyes shining, then shrank back behind the bush again.

“Ah. Well. Now that you…” The Guardian glanced over his shoulder again. “It doesn’t actually…exist. It’s more…ah…metaphysical?”

“I see,” though she clearly did not.

He assumed that was it. She’d either wander off, knowing there was nothing to see, or she’d ask what metaphysical meant, and then she’d wander off while he inevitably failed to explain it to anyone’s satisfaction.

Except she didn’t. The Woman stood there for a while, tugging on the leaves that crossed in front of her. “What…what’s on the other side of the Wall?”

Not that this question was any easier. “I…the world, I suppose. Earth.”

“What’s it like?”

“It…” Another difficult one. “It’s like the Garden, only…more real.” He’d explored a little, while it was still under construction. “Not as nice, really. More dangerous. Not as much food. All the important things are in here.”

“Then why is it there?”

“That…” The Guardian shook his head. “That seems to be quite a lot of questions.”

“Are questions bad?”

He thought about that one a long time, rolling it around in his mind. “I don’t know.”

While he stood there thinking, the Man appeared, standing behind the Woman. His eyes were different, too.

“Why do you stand there?” the Man asked.

“He guards a gate that doesn’t exist and leads to the world, which isn’t as good as the Garden.”

“I see.” The Man nodded. “If it doesn’t exist, why do you need to guard it?”

“Well, I…”

“Obviously,” the Woman put in, “if he’s a Guardian, he must guard. It’s in his name.”

“That isn’t actually my name,” the Guardian finally managed, then went a little red as the two humans turned back to him. Something about their combined gaze made him uncomfortable. He moved the sword closer to his face, so he could pretend it was a result of the heat.

“Do you have a name?” the Man asked. “I was supposed to name all the creatures and plants in the Garden, but I didn’t think that included you.”

“No, I have a name,” the Guardian assured him. “It’s—”

The next sound he made couldn’t really be replicated by a human tongue, nor transcribed into any system of writing that would ever exist. It was more than a sound, it was a swirl of colors and emotions and scents that had to be experienced. Simply uttering it seemed to make the Garden a little brighter.

“I see,” the Man said. His eyes slid across to the flaming sword. “Why do you carry that?”

“Oh.” The Guardian had expected more of a reaction, really. “Well. God gave this to me. To, ah, to help with the guarding.”

“How does it help?” the Woman asked, one hand reaching partially over the bush towards it, though she still seemed unwilling to walk closer.

“It, ah…” Aziraphale studied the flames licking up the orichalcum blade. “So far, it really hasn’t. I accidentally set fire to the vines a few times,” he admitted, “but that is certainly not its purpose.”

“Is it hot?” the Man asked, at the same time that the Woman, eying the edge, asked, “Is it sharp?”

“Yes to both, actually.”

The Man and the Woman looked at each other.

“Could you…” the Woman smiled uncertainly. “Do you think you could help us with something?”

--

The three of the crouched in the grass, staring at the sword. The Guardian had needed to experiment a great deal until he worked out how to diffuse the flame so that the metal was hot, but not too hot. A handful of large brown nuts sat along the center of the blade.

“There!” The Woman pointed eagerly. “They’re splitting open! Quickly!”

“Right!” The Guardian plucked the nuts up, juggling them from one hand to the other. “Oh, are you sure? These are quite—”

“Yes! Quickly! Remember last time?”

“Yes, yes.” Before they could cool too much, The Guardian began peeling off the shells and the bitter inner skin, rubbing at the softened meat inside with his robe to remove any lingering sharp bits of shell. “Finished!” He held out his hand, four light brown chestnuts filling the air with an enticing smell.

The Woman took one, popped it into her mouth, chewing carefully. “Yes, we did it! It worked!”

Next the Man took one, clearly savoring the taste as he ate it. “You were right. They’re wonderful now, one of the best things I’ve ever eaten.”

“I knew there had to be something good under all that bitterness.” She picked up another chestnut, waving it around without eating it.

“Do you think heat makes all the foods taste better?”

“It might! The only way to find out is to try.”

“What do we try next?” He was already climbing to his feet. “The grapes? The oranges?”

“Potatoes!” The Woman stood up, tapping her finger against the Man’s chest. “Just like these, good smell, but you can’t quite eat it. They probably just need heat, too.”

“Ah…” The Guardian still knelt in the grass, the last chestnut resting on his palm. He’d been waiting for the Man to take it. “I was quite happy to help you with this but…” They turned back to him, white teeth flashing in broad smiles. “…but perhaps in another day or two? I shouldn’t be away from my Gate too much.”

“Of course!” The Man helped him to his feet, and the Woman brushed down the back of his robe.

“Why do you wear this?” she wondered, once again moving to where he couldn’t quite see her.

“Ah…” the Guardian shrugged. “Well, in Heaven, angels usually wrap ourselves in our wings. I…suppose it’s just an earthly equivalent? Since I don’t have wings in this form.”

“This – this is what we need,” the Woman said abruptly. “We should make ourselves coverings!”

“Oh, no!” The Guardian held up his hands. “Please, don’t – it’s an angelic custom, not a human one! You have no need—”

“I think we do,” she said softly. “I’ve felt all day that…something was missing.” She shifted her arms a little, as if to hide behind them. “I don’t like it. Perhaps I’ll feel better?”

“I felt the same,” the Man said, stepping close behind her again, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It is…unpleasant. But we were able to forget it a little while just now, thanks to you.”

“Oh. Well. Um.” The Guardian picked up his sword. “Glad to help. Ah.” He held out the last chestnut, growing cool in his hand. “I suppose you should take this?”

But the Man held out his hand. “No, that one is for you, Aziraphale.”

“I…that’s not actually…”

It was almost his name. If you removed everything but the sound, if you simplified it for human tongue, it was almost how it should sound.

“Aziraphale…” the angel murmured to himself. It made him feel warm, this simplified version of his name. It made him feel…welcome. “You know…I think I rather like it.”

“Good!” The Man patted him on the shoulder with another smile. “Now, return to your Gate that isn’t a gate, and we shall see you in a few days with more foods to make hot!” He laughed, as did the Woman.

And, though he wasn’t quite sure why, Aziraphale joined in.

--

After the angel had left, the Man and the Woman walked back through the trees, searching for one of their customary sleeping spaces. The Woman paused, glancing into a darker part of the shadows.

“You could have joined us,” she said to a formless black presence. It hissed back. “I don’t see why not,” she insisted. Crouching down, she left the last chestnut on a stone. “That one’s for you.”

A blunt nose emerged from the pitch blackness beneath the trees, another shadow more solid than the rest, and nudged the tan nut. “Ssssserpentsss don’t eat thessssse.”

“Oh.” She glanced at the Man who shrugged. “What do you eat, then?”

Another hiss, but no other response.

“We’ll find something you do like,” she said, taking the Man’s hand and walking deeper into the trees.

Long after they’d left, the shadow shifted.

A pale hand with long, thin fingers snatched up the chestnut.

“Hmmm,” a grudging voice admitted. “This isn’t bad.”

--

Ante diem XI Kalendas Decembribus, DCCXCIII Ab Urbe Condita

(Eleven Days before the Kalends of December, 793rd Year After the Founding of the City)

“Where exactly is this restaurant?” Crowley demanded, wandering behind Aziraphale in that strange, swaying way of his.

“Well, I’m certain it’s…it’s certainly around here somewhere!” The Angel peered down yet another street. “No, that’s…Perhaps the other way?”

“Are you lost?”

“No! Angels don’t get lost.” He frowned, turning in a circle right in the center of the little crossroads. “It must be the restaurant that’s lost!”

“Because that makes sense.”

Aziraphale sighed, running his hands down the front of his toga. He was rapidly losing to Crowley’s bad mood, he could tell. Any moment, the demon would wander off to another tavern and lose himself in another bottle of foul-smelling alcohol.

He wasn’t certain why that bothered him, but it certainly did.

“Now there’s no need for either of us to panic.”

“No one’s panicking, Angel.” Crowley plucked the silver laurel wreath off his head, stared at it as if he’d never seen it before, and tossed it down one of the side streets like a discus. “Look, never mind all this, why don’t we—”

“Oh my word!” Aziraphale turned his head. “Do you smell that?” A rich, thick, slightly spicy aroma that seemed to bypass all his senses and strike him directly in the stomach. His eyes scanned across the shops lining the street. Three were food vendors of some description, and one of those had just pulled a hot pan out of the fire and was now filling a deep bowl set into the counter of his shop with freshly roasted chestnuts.

“What are you—”

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley by the hand and dragged him up the street. “Quickly, my dear fellow! You simply must have them while they’re still hot!”

“I have eaten a chestnut before.”

“Have you?” Aziraphale waved to the proprietor and placed several coins on the counter, helping himself to a bowl full of steaming chestnuts. “I always seem to crave them this time of year. Not really sure why, but oh, these smell simply delightful!”

In a way, they would never be as good as that first one he’d eaten, walking back to his Gate, filled with the warmth of…of everything that had happened that night. Turning over the new name in his mind as he turned the new flavor over on his tongue. Nothing would ever compare to the way foods tasted in the Garden, so simple and pure.

Certainly, nothing had felt the same after he reached the Gate, horrified to see the large opening in the Wall, vines and trees parting to give a clear view through the stones to the desert beyond.

There had been much to worry about in those days. Was it somehow his fault, for abandoning his post for nearly half a day? Had giving the humans his sword been the right choice? Would the foods in the real world even be edible?

And yet, the humans had not only survived, they’d thrived. They’d found ways to combine different foods to create an art that no angel had ever imagined. The wonderful, buttery, spicy crunch in his mouth now was proof of that.

His eyes fluttered open to find Crowley was staring at him, jaw tight. “Oh, I’m being rude,” Aziraphale said, holding out the bowl. “Please, have some.”

Crowley’s hand reached towards the bowl slowly.

Somewhere down the street, a woman’s voice screamed. A man emerged from a side street, clutching a small basket, running directly towards them. The woman emerged behind him, clutching her arm painfully. “He stole my—”

Suddenly, the man’s feet shot out from under him, and he fell hard on his behind, rolling across a street suddenly filled with hard round chestnuts. When he pushed himself up at the mouth of another side street, something long, thin and silvery slithered out, wrapping around his arm. The man shouted and tried to pull away from the strange leaf-covered vine, but it held him, pulling him to lie flat.

The woman picked her way quickly across the chestnut-strewn ground to retrieve her lost property, giving the man a firm kick just to be sure.

Though it was all over in a few seconds, the commotion drew Crowley’s attention, and he started to turn away.

“Ah-ah.” Aziraphale caught Crowley’s chin with his finger, turning it back to face him. “Really, my dear, you must learn to focus your attention.”

“Yeah but – didn’t you hear…?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” A quick glance assured the angel that no other troublemakers would be wandering in their direction. “Here, try this one.” He selected one of the larger chestnuts and held it out to Crowley with a smile.

--

19 November, 2019

“And then I said to him, ‘This is a genuine first edition with the original author’s signature, marginalia, and tea stains, and if you think I would let it go for anything as petty as money—‘”

“Hold that thought.” They’d been wandering up and down the streets of London for hours, as they often did on weekends, holidays or, in this case, random Tuesdays. But Crowley had just spotted a little cart parked halfway along Westminster Bridge.

He walked a little faster, leaving Aziraphale to tut and huff behind him. Fortunately, they didn’t have far to go, and there was no line, as all the humans crowded around the cart suddenly remembered urgent appointments elsewhere.

Crowley handed over some coins, and by the time Aziraphale caught up he was met by a demon grinning broadly over a richly scented paper bag.

“Oh!” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. “Chestnuts! You know, I was just thinking the other day, I really should get some.”

“Course you were.” Crowley took a few for himself and gave the rest of the bag to Aziraphale. “How else would you celebrate?”

“Oh? And what are we celebrating now?”

“S’a holiday.” Crowley nudged him with his elbow as they ambled across the Thames. “Most important holiday of the year.”

Aziraphale’s forehead furrowed. “World Toilet Day?”

“What? Is it?” He shook his head. “Humans really do have to go and make everything weird.”

“My dear fellow, the lack of proper sanitation in some parts of the world is no joking matter—”

“No, it’s not about—” Was there one day in the year the humans hadn’t made about them? “I’m declaring it my own holiday. The Feast of Aziraphale.”

“Oh.” The angel blinked, one chestnut halfway to his mouth. “Oh. But – you can’t just—”

“Course I can. And it’s really about time, too. Everything you do for the humans, you deserve your own Feast day. Lazy bastards shoulda taken care of it themselves ages ago, but here I am, cleaning up their mess as usual.”

“Actually, it’s more usual for them to—”

“And that’s why today, Nineteenth of November, is now the Feast of Aziraphale! I’ll make sure they start marking it on all the calendars.”

They walked in silence for a few steps, before the soft voice started exactly as Crowley had expected: “Now, really, my dear, it’s…it’s a nice sentiment, but I don’t deserve—”

“Yes.” Crowley slung his arm around Aziraphale’s waist and pulled him closer as they walked. “You do.”

He didn’t need to see Aziraphale’s face to know how he smiled, how he blinked his eyes, overwhelmed with emotion. Crowley certainly didn’t look. He already had the angel’s every expression committed to memory, and anyway, he deserved a little privacy.

“So, ah…” Aziraphale cleared his throat and stepped a little away, trying to fix his waistcoat one-handed. “How, precisely, does one celebrate this feast?”

“Well, traditionally, there’s the roasted chestnuts,” Crowley said, reaching into the bag for a few more. “Enjoyed with one’s closest friends.”

This time he did catch that smile, a little fleeting one of pure joy. “Already there. Anything else?”

“I thought, perhaps…” A toss of his head as Crowley made his voice casual. “Dinner at the Savoy? Followed by a couple bottles of wine?”

“That all sounds rather cozy,” Aziraphale admitted, now looking directly ahead. “But I should think there should be something a little more dramatic, to mark the occasion.”

“Such as?”

Aziraphale handed him back the bag of chestnuts, which Crowley took without thinking.

Then the angel grabbed him by the lapels, propelled him back against the bridge railing, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. Crowley gasped, and Aziraphale took that opening to drink even deeper, pressing Crowley back until he needed to grip the green metal with his free hand.

It was only the third time they’d kissed, as they found their way towards a new normal. It was something Crowley could get used to, but at the same time hoped he never did.

Aziraphale finally stepped back, allowing him to catch his breath. “Yeah that…we can include…s’there more where that came from?”

“Hmmm. Dinner first.” Aziraphale paused, leaning over the railing to consider the city beyond. “And, I think, a toast.” He handed Crowley a flute of champagne, the second materializing in his hand right after.

“Does this pair with street vendor chestnuts?”

“Shut up, my dear.”

They raised their glasses. “What do we drink to? You, I assume.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “To us. To them.” He gestured to the mass of humanity, moving about their daily lives. “To a night spent with those we care about most. And, as always…”

Crowley brought the rim of his glass to meet Aziraphale’s. “To the world.”

--

A/N: Yes, 19 November is World Toilet Day, as well as International Men’s Day. I didn’t pick the date, but suspected the humans had rudely made it about themselves.

[stoicbreviary]

"The Last Words of Cleanthes"

Richard Henry Horne (1802-1884) 'Here do I take my seat, Great Element! And for the last time listen to thy voice, Which now methinks hath a more lulling tone, E'en as of sympathy: but that's a dream. 'Many great spirits dwell in other worlds, And some are here, who live, like me, alone, But with a recognized influence of good, Rewarded by self-consciousness of power, Which is the Stoic's well-sufficing law; It is his law unto himself, comprising All kinds of labour; water, food, and space Of ground sufficient where to rest the head, Being his right in common with the herds, And all dumb fellow-creatures of the earth. 'Zeno is gone; and I have taught his School, With pride I yet may pardon in myself, Knowing how much of his great soul, outpoured For all throughout my being was transfused. Zeno hath passed to higher learning now, And thence to higher teachings will attain, Proportion'd to his spirit towering still; While I have linger'd here, and day and night Striven to be worthy of his great bequest.' The sage was seated on a lone sea-coast, And while the sun slow sank 'midst solemn smiles, As of paternal sadness, touch'd with hope, The sea came flowing up, still murmuring Its ever-fresh yet ancient harmonies. Near him there stands a Thracian youth, whose head And limbs elastic had enchain'd the gaze, But for the anxious chisellings o'er his face, As he beholds a man of massive brow, O'ersnow'd by four score years, who like a rock Placed on a rock, sits there, self-doom'd to die. 'Young man, thou pray'st me to recount my life— New comer from the Thracian Chersonese, Not knowing of my labours, or my thoughts, Nor why I sit here with intent to end A long life, every day whereof hath wrought The utmost work my faculties could achieve; Here, where the bright waves hasten tow'rds my feet, Not like fierce rows of fangs, but gracious friends Who bring to me my flowing funeral rites, Murmuring their deep hymns to eternity. 'I was a rough-bred and unletter'd man, Born to great strength of sinew and of bone, With that endurance which outlives defeat; And as a cestus-bearing athlete fought, Gaining some batter'd victories, with the applause Of brutal natures, and of spirits refined, Needing reaction after mental toil. With heavy ox-thonged cestus, newly stained From smashing contest, craving rest and shade, The grove I pass'd where Zeno held his School. The vision of that grand head floats before me, As then it loom'd above the shoulders bare, And grape-like curls of many a lovely youth Whose soaring spirit stood with folded wings. 'The hush'd repose—the shadows,—and the rhythm Of Zeno's eloquent cadences—a flow Of harmony as of the confluence sweet When Simoïs and Xanthus murmur'd through Some temple in the groves of vanish'd Troy, Melted my nerves, and overcame my heart, Till a new life-spring gushed into my brain, Flooding my thoughts, and forcing o'er each sense A change, which all my bodily strength transformed. More than a child's within a giant's grasp, Or clay beneath the statuary's hand, Softly I laid me listening on the grass,— And year by year, ne'er absent, day by day, Save for deep study in my lone abode, As one of Zeno's flock I fed and thought. 'Now while the days roll'd o'er my bowed-down head, My corporal needs—how few—were well supplied By labours of the night, wherein my strength Served well my higher craving; and for hinds On gardens, farms, or cattle far a-field, Water I drew from wells, or when the springs Sparkled in frosty silver 'neath the moon. 'Thus through my mind were melted twenty years, And Zeno left us—on life's pilgrimage Tow'rds higher knowledge,—and his Chair devolved On me, though others to that lofty seat Held worthier claim. As Polygnotus' hand In paintings illustrated godlike forms, And acts of heroes, so did I but teach, With humbler, but not less devoted powers, What godlike minds had imaged. Let that pass From me, the medium of those truths sublime, To rest as crowns for their diviner brows. 'And yet, young man, I have not lived in vain In mine own person, since examples weighty Rank with best teachings. Now, brief words paint years:— The tide rolls inward, and thou must depart, And leave me here to close my mortal hour. Through a long life I have thoroughly wrought my will, From nature's hand refusing all rich fruits, As from my labours, or man's kindliness, Receiving but the means for innocent food, Thus following Crates' and great Zeno's course, As rigidly as link doth follow link, When seamen raise an anchor to the prow; Or as the shadow of the hero's spear Beneath its singing, flies to the same mark. To man's best knowledge, and highest good Myself have I devoted evermore, With no weak murmurings o'er the poverty Which was my choice. And if my chief return From man were scoffs, cold pity, or neglect, As I for social life were all unfit— No business had on earth—let man progress The better for my life; I, none the worse For his contempt, but more content and glad In that my labours have been more removed From personal profit. My pure 'vantage rests On its negation and its nullity, Which is the Stoic's true—his best reward, Save in the satisfaction of his soul. It may be that some balance here is lost, Since Nature bids each seek his proper good. Every devotion hath inspiring madness— Oft madness of the loftiest, purest scope; But 'tis poor earthliness large gains to crave, Thanks, and prompt recognition from the world Of service and self-sacrifice. Enough— Man knows his own acts, his own secret mind,— Evades, or all the mingled truths confronts. 'Leave me, young man; the tide is rising fast! Good youth, retire—'tis now my will to die. Studies and hardships on extreme age piling Weight upon weight, life's arches are borne down; And as nought useless can, or should exist, I have for days, all sustenance refused, Press'd to my hands, but thankfully laid down, And now sit here, beside my sand-scoop'd grave, Waiting majestic burial from the sea. 'Nor are tombs wanting. Lo, yon marble rocks!— The architecture of some hand Divine! Intaglios fretted by a thousand years— Inscriptions motto'd by the unseen Powers That guide earth's great mutations, while around me The symbols both of present and of past— Enormous sea-weeds, strombites, and whitening bones, Submarine flowers that lift their welcoming heads, And wail of starv'd birds echoing to the moon, Now slowly rising from her daily grave, Profusely furnish funeral honours due To those whose life-lamps burnt in caves, like mine. Young man! forbear thy touch!—thy tearful voice— Begone at once! behold the waves flow near, And soon will kiss these pale and paralyzed feet. The crescent points creep round with gushing gleams, And now they eddying meet, and deepening flow! 'Covering his face, with smother'd sobs he goes— Farewell!—nay, boy!—he weeps, but he is gone. Ever-young World! I have well loved thy youth, And thought for me thou hadst no heart at all; But 'twas not so. I ne'er had sought to gain That sympathy which yet, like unplucked fruit, Is ready for the worthy traveller's hand. Absorb'd in work for man, men I forgot, With all their cherished trivialities. Wherefore they viewed me as a thing apart. I. 'O Zeus! I bless thee for the life thou gavest, So full of bodily strength, and health, and years; I bless thee for the mind that hath no fears Of death, whereby our atoms thou still savest, Till some fine consciousness again appears. II. O Zeus! I have doubted further gifts of Gods— Doubted futurity for each special mind; The soul, like music, dying on the wind; The body merging in earth's sands and sods;— But to thy Ruling evermore resigned. III. O Zeus! no claim have we to aught beyond! We bless thee for the life we have enjoyed; We hope our spirit shall not be destroyed: Thy waters to my dying Hymn respond In harmonies that change, ere rapture-cloyed. IV. O Zeus! I hear the broad waves gently flowing Over my feet, and nestling round my knees! My senses melt away by soft degrees! My thoughts, like seeds, thy hand afar is sowing! Sweet songs are in my brain—sweet birds in trees! V. O Zeus! at all-devouring Time I smile; For he is but Heaven's little playful son, Toying, or teasing, while we graveward run: Flow then, ye waves!—our mingling sands beguile! Flow on, divine Maternity, flow on!'

[hieromonkcharbel]

--Turning my eyes carefully upon myself and watching the course of my inward state, I have verified by experience that I do not love God, that I have no love for my neighbors, that I have no religious belief, and that I am filled with pride and sensuality. All this I actually find in myself as a result of detailed examination of my feelings and conduct, thus:

1. I do not love God. For if I loved God I should be continually thinking about Him with heartfelt joy. Every thought of God would give me gladness and delight. On the contrary, I much more often and much more eagerly think about earthly things, and thinking about God is labor and dryness. If I loved God, then talking with Him in prayer would be my nourishment and delight and would draw me to unbroken communion with Him. But, on the contrary, I not only find no delight in prayer, but even find it an effort. I struggle with reluctance, I am enfeebled by sloth and am ready to occupy myself eagerly with any unimportant trifle, if only it shortens prayer and keeps me from it. My time slips away unnoticed in futile occupations, but when I am occupied with God, when I put myself into His presence, every hour seems like a year. If one person loves another, he thinks of him throughout the day without ceasing, he pictures him to himself, he cares for him, and in all circumstances his beloved friend is never out of his thoughts. But I, throughout the day, scarcely set aside even a single hour in which to sink deep down into meditation upon God, to inflame my heart with love of Him, while I eagerly give up 23 hours as fervent offerings to the idols of my passions. I am forward in talk about frivolous matters and things which degrade the spirit; that gives me pleasure. But in the consideration of God I am dry, bored, and lazy. Even if I am unwillingly drawn by others into spiritual conversation, I try to shift the subject quickly to one which pleases my desires. I am tirelessly curious about novelties, about civic affairs and political events; I eagerly seek the satisfaction of my love of knowledge in science and art, and ways of getting things I want to possess. But the study of the law of God, the knowledge of God and of religion, make little impression on me, and satisfy no hunger of my soul. I regard these things not only as a non-essential occupation for a Christian, but in a casual way as a sort of side-issue with which I should perhaps occupy my spare time, at odd moments. To put it shortly, if love for God is recognized by the keeping of His commandments ("If ye love Me, keep My commandments," says our Lord Jesus Christ), and I not only do not keep them, but even make little attempt to do so, then in absolute truth the conclusion follows that I do not love God. That is what Basil the Great says: "The proof that a man does not love God and His Christ lies in the fact that he does not keep His commandments."

2. I do not love my neighbor either. For not only am I unable to make up my mind to lay down my life for his sake (according to the gospel), but I do not even sacrifice my happiness, well-being, and peace for the good of my neighbor. If I did love him as myself, as the gospel bids, his misfortunes would distress me also, his happiness would bring delight to me too. But, on the contrary, I listen to curious, unhappy stories about my neighbor, and I am not distressed; I remain quite undisturbed or, what is still worse, I find a sort of pleasure in them. Bad conduct on the part of my brother I do not cover up with love, but proclaim abroad with censure. His well-being, honor, and happiness do not delight me as my own, and, as if they were something quite alien to me, give me no feeling of gladness. What is more, they subtly arouse in me feelings of envy or contempt.

3. I have no religious belief. Neither in immortality nor in the gospel. If I were firmly persuaded and believed without doubt that beyond the grave lies eternal life and recompense for the deeds of this life, I should be continually thinking of this. The very idea of immortality would terrify me and I should lead this life as a foreigner who gets ready to enter his native land. On the contrary, I do not even think about eternity, and I regard the end of this earthly life as the limit of my existence. The secret thought nestles within me: Who knows what happens at death? If I say I believe in immortality, then I am speaking about my mind only, and my heart is far removed from a firm conviction about it. That is openly witnessed to by my conduct and my constant care to satisfy the life of the senses. Were the holy gospel taken into my heart in faith, as the Word of God, I should be continually occupied with it, I should study it, find delight in it, and with deep devotion fix my attention upon it. Wisdom, mercy, and love are hidden in it; it would lead me to happiness, I should find gladness in the study of the law of God day and night. In it I should find nourishment like my daily bread, and my heart would be drawn to the keeping of its laws. Nothing on earth would be strong enough to turn me away from it. On the contrary, if now and again I read or hear the Word of God, yet even so it is only from necessity or from a general love of knowledge, and approaching it without any very close attention I find it dull and uninteresting. I usually come to the end of the reading without any profit, only too ready to change over to secular reading in which I take more pleasure and find new and interesting subjects.

4. I am full of pride and sensual self-love. All my actions confirm this. Seeing something good in myself, I want to bring it into view, or to pride myself upon it before other people or inwardly to admire myself for it. Although I display an outward humility, yet I ascribe it all to my own strength and regard myself as superior to others, or at least no worse than they. If I notice a fault in myself, I try to excuse it; I cover it up by saying, "I am made like that" or "I am not to blame". I get angry with those who do not treat me with respect and consider them unable to appreciate the value of people. I brag about my gifts: my failures in any undertaking I regard as a personal insult. I murmur, and I find pleasure in the unhappiness of my enemies. If I strive after anything good it is for the purpose of winning praise, or spiritual self-indulgence, or earthly consolation. In a word, I continually make an idol of myself and render it uninterrupted service, seeking in all things the pleasures of the senses and nourishment for my sensual passions and lusts.

--Going over all this I see myself as proud, adulterous, unbelieving, without love for God and hating my neighbor. What state could be more sinful? The condition of the spirits of darkness is better than mine. They, although they do not love God, hate men, and live upon pride, yet at least believe and tremble. But I? Can there be a doom more terrible than that which faces me, and what sentence of punishment will be more severe than that upon the careless and foolish life that I recognize in myself?

On reading through this form of confession which the priest gave me I was horrified, and I thought to myself, "Good heavens! What frightful sins there are hidden within me, and up to now I've never noticed them!" The desire to be cleansed from them made me beg this great spiritual father to teach me how to know the causes of all these evils and how to cure them. And he began to instruct me.

"You see, dear brother, the cause of not loving God is want of belief, want of belief is caused by lack of conviction, and the cause of that is failure to seek for holy and true knowledge, indifference to the light of the spirit. In a word, if you don't believe, you can't love; if you are not convinced, you can't believe, and in order to reach conviction you must get a full and exact knowledge of the matter before you. By meditation, by the study of God's Word, and by noting your experience, you must arouse in your soul a thirst and a longing- or, as some call it, 'wonder'- which brings you an insatiable desire to know things more closely and more fully, to go deeper into their nature.

"One spiritual writer speaks of it in this way: 'Love,' he says, 'usually grows with knowledge, and the greater the depth and extent of the knowledge the more love there will be, the more easily the heart will soften and lay itself open to the love of God, as it diligently gazes upon the very fullness and beauty of the divine nature and His unbounded love for men.'

"So now you see that the cause of those sins which you read over is slothfulness in thinking about spiritual things, sloth which stifles the feeling of the need of such thought. If you want to know how to overcome this evil, strive after enlightenment of spirit by every means in your power, attain it by diligent study of the Word of God and of the holy Fathers, by the help of meditation and spiritual counsel, and by the conversation of those who are wise in Christ. Ah, dear brother, how much disaster we meet with just because we are lazy about seeking light for our souls through the word of truth. We do not study God's law day and night, and we do not pray about it diligently and unceasingly. And because of this our inner man is hungry and cold, starved, so that it has no strength to take a bold step forward upon the road of righteousness and salvation! And so, beloved, let us resolve to make use of these methods, and as often as possible fill our minds with thoughts of heavenly things; and love, poured down into our hearts from on high, will burst into flame within us. We will do this together and pray as often as we can, for prayer is the chief and strongest means for our renewal and well-being. We will pray, in the words holy Church teaches us: 'Oh God, make me fit to love Thee now, as I have loved sin in the past'"

The Pilgrim Continues His Way

[bespectacled-skelly]

Gotham Rogues as Greek Gods

 I was watching some videos talking about Batman: The Animated Series and stumbled across a video talking about the episode “Fire from Olympus”. At the end, Maxie Zeus sees some of the other villains as gods from Greek mythology. So that got me wondering, what would the other characters Greek counterparts be? So that’s what I’m researching. I am only looking at their characterization in the Animated Series. 

I will not be covering all the Rogues, just the big ones sadly. But if this gets popular maybe I will do a part 2. 

DISCLAIMER: I will not be talking about Poison Ivy or Two-Face because I agree with his saying they are Demeter and Janus respectively.  

First up is Joker. Now I don’t agree with Maxie calling him Hermes. This guy is in no way Hermes. Who I think he matches up with more is Dionysus. But wait, I hear you say, Dionysus is the wine and party guy! While this is true to a degree, Dionysus has a strong connection with madness and rebirth. 

Here is a snippet from Encyclopedia Britannica about the whole rebirth thing.

“Dionysus was the son of Zeus and Semele, a daughter of Cadmus (king of Thebes). Out of jealousy, Hera, the wife of Zeus, persuaded the pregnant Semele to prove her lover’s divinity by requesting that he appear in his real person. Zeus complied, but his power was too great for the mortal Semele, who was blasted with thunderbolts. However, Zeus saved his son by sewing him up in his thigh and keeping him there until he reached maturity, so that he was twice born.”

When Jack Napier fell in those chemicals he was reborn as the Joker, hence the rebirth tie-in. Then we come to the Maenads, or female followers of Dionysus. Here is excerpt from Wikipedia.

“Cultist rites associated with worship of the Greek god of wine, Dionysus (or Bacchus in Roman mythology), were allegedly characterized by maniacal dancing to the sound of loud music and crashing cymbals, in which the revelers, called Bacchantes, whirled, screamed, became drunk and incited one another to greater and greater ecstasy. The goal was to achieve a state of enthusiasm in which the celebrants’ souls were temporarily freed from their earthly bodies and were able to commune with Bacchus/Dionysus and gain a glimpse of and a preparation for what they would someday experience in eternity.”

If you want to learn more about Dionysus, I suggest this video!

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5brAr51ip_k

Riddler is my favorite Batman villain of all time (especially the BTAS one). Now HE is Hermes. Hermes is not only the messenger of the gods, take a look at this excerpt from Greek Gods and Goddesses.Net.

“He is also the patron and protector of travelers, herdsmen, thieves, orators and wit, literature and poets, athletics and sports, invention and trade. In some myths Hermes is also depicted as a trickster where he would outwit the gods either for the good of humankind or for his own personal amusement and satisfaction.”

Eddie here is an incredible clever and intelligent man. Most of the crimes he commits are because he wants a challenge. This is why I think he fits Hermes more than Joker. 

Next is Harley Quinn, who’s first appearance was in BTAS. Harley is Persephone, Queen of the Underworld. Just like Persephone, Harleen Quinzel also has a connection with rebirth. She left behind her life as a doctor to become Joker’s “puddin”. Just like Persephone's return from the Underworld heralds the return of spring. And even when she tries to leave the Underworld behind, she will always come back. 

He connection with Ivy (who we have established is Demeter) also gives her a strong connection with Persephone. In the show, Ivy is very determined to show Harley how bad the Joker is to her and tries to keep her away from him and protect her, just like Demeter and Persephone.  

I had trouble finding a god for the good professor. At first I thought about Thanatos, but he is the personification of a gentle death. I needed someone who was fear itself. Then I stumbled across a minor god, Deimos, who is the personification of terror. His name literally means dread.

Deimos is one of the sons of Ares and Aphrodite. He and his brother, Phobos (fear) were Ares chariot attendants. Unfortunately, there isn’t as much information about him as there are the others here. But I still think there is enough to draw a connection. 

 For some reason, Deimos seems to be very popular in pop-culture. 

Mr. Freeze was also difficult. I broke the rules a little bit and started to look at all the Greek gods. While not male, Nemesis works quite well for him. 

Nemesis is the goddess of revenge and retribution with a strong connection to tragedy. Mr. Freeze’s tale is one of tragedy and revenge. His wife, Nora, contracts an incurable illness. While looking for a cure, he freezes her to give her more time. In the show, his experiments are halted by his boss. In his fight to save Nora he is knocked into some chemicals and turns into Mr. Freeze. He then seeks revenge on his old boss for what he did to him and his wife. 

Here are some excerpts from Nemesis’s Wikipedia.

“The word nemesis originally meant the distributor of fortune, neither good nor bad, simply in due proportion to each according to what was deserved. Later, Nemesis came to suggest the resentment caused by any disturbance of this right proportion, the sense of justice that could not allow it to pass unpunished. .In the Greek tragedies Nemesis appears chiefly as the avenger of crime and the punisher of hubris, and as such is akin to Atë and the Erinyes. She was sometimes called "Adrasteia", probably meaning "one from whom there is no escape...”

If you thought that last two were difficult, they pale in comparison to the Penguin. This guy was a bitch-and-a-half to find a god for, but I think I found someone.

Plutus: God of Wealth

The Penguin likes to think of himself as a gentlemen of refined taste. He is probably one of the wealthiest criminals in the Gallery, and he needs to be to fit his image of being of high society. Plutus also has a form of government named after him, “plutocracy”.  Here is the definition of plutocracy from Greek Gods and Goddesses.Net.

“Plutocracy” means a system of government in which the wealthy rule. Other English words that derive from Plutus include “plutonomics,” which is the study of wealth management, “plutomania,” which is an irrational desire for wealth, and “plutolatry,” which means idolizing wealth.” 

I don’t know about you, but that sounds like the Penguin to me.

Thank you for reading this far! These are my opinions only, so please feel free to add your own thoughts!

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Breaking and Entering

Genre: ghost story, supernatural

Words: 3.9

Summary: two highschoolers break into an abandoned hospital to see ghosts and wonder the empty halls, but end up being caught by the police and perhaps something more.

It was the end of the school year and it was hotter than hormonal band kids at summer camp. You might as well prepare breakfast on the sidewalk and dunk yourself in ice water to get through the day.

The heat was one of the reasons I didn’t go to my graduation ceremony. My mom begged for me to show up because she was going through an “up” period and probably wanted something to show for her parenting. Like, “hey I screwed up my kid two ways to Sunday, but at least they graduated!”

I didn’t need to give her that kind of satisfaction. Sure, I graduated, but so did a bunch of other people. You didn’t need to throw a party about it.

I was at the old quarry instead and tossing tiny stones into it’s gaping mouth. Sarah Jane Johnson sat nearby with her short hair pulled back in tiny clips and sweating silently as she scrolled through her phone. She was a petite girl with a long black skirt, shredded white top, and hunking black shoes underneath.

I threw a rock at a particularly hard angle and watched it bounce off the wall with a clunk and dance down into the small pool of water below. I gave a small smirk and turned, “see that, Sarah Jane?” Sarah Jane was still going through her spotify looking for a playlist to put on and didn’t even look up. I rolled my eyes and picked up another rock to toss, “come on. I can show you how to do it.”

I flicked the stone with my wrist and listened to the hard knock of rock on rock and the soft thuds as it fell the rest of the way down.

Sarah Jane still didn’t look up. 

I finally picked up a perfectly flat stone and went over to her, “don’t be like this.” I said with a huff.

Sarah Jane’s mouth became a hard line, “I’m just trying to choose the right mood music.” She said flatly, “you are graduated and junk. Maybe the Darth Vader death march?” I rubbed the back of my neck and bent over her, “what did I tell you before?” I huffed and stuck her with a hard look. “I’m not going anywhere. Not really.” Sarah Jane was a freshman that year and we had ended up bonding right away. There was always some gossip around seniors hanging out with freshmen, especially since we were both queer and dyed our hair black and didn’t exactly “get along” with authority figures, but none of the weird impliations were true. I had seen her on the first day and taken her under my wing as a baby punk and there wasn’t anything more to it. Which was all fine and good until it seemed to be coming to an end.

“You are.” She said softly. “You’re gonna find some job or some girl and then forget about me.” Her grip on the ipod was tight and bleaching, “I’ve seen it before.” “Ugh, that’s now how it is.” I scoffed and took a seat next to her, she turned away from me. I sighed, “Look, do you want to do the Mayfield hospital trip? Will that cheer you up?” Her eyes lit up and she twisted back toward me, “the hospital trip?” I had her attention and that made me smile, “yeah. Didn’t you say you wanted to try it out? Burn some candles, mess with some shit?”

Sarah Jane tilted her head to the side and sat up straight, “like, for real?” Her face fell a little bit, “didn’t you say that the hospital was for tourists and rubes?” She didn’t meet my eye as she asked.

“Nah,” I pushed on her shoulder gently. “I mean, with all the sightings in the place we’re bound to find something.” She gave a half-smile, “sure you aren’t scared?” I tossed my head back and laughed. “Of some spirit nurses and sick ghosts?” I snorted, “what kind of elder do you take me for? Now come on.” “Wait,” she flipped through the music. “This is the one.” She played a song from a new band called The Bad Sins about crushed butterflies and had a sick guitar riff in the middle. We nodded our heads along to the beat and watched as the sun crossed the sky with our mind’s elsewhere.

I taught Sarah Jane to toss stones all the way into the quarry’s opposite wall after that.

--------------

There’s a couple rules to breaking and entering, one of the biggest ones is choosing the right time and place. Breaking and entering into a summer home in the middle of July when security is high and the place is flush with other vacationers? That’s a no-go. Breaking into a modest winter cabin in July is a better bet.

Always try the windows first to wiggle the glass free, but it’s even better if the place is easy access- that means public areas, construction sites, and abandoned places. The Mayfield old patient hospital was both a construction site and an abandoned building- a twofer and Sarah Jane had been talking about it furtively for months now.

She set out Tarot cards with a picture of it on the wall and mentioned the online stories such as sightings of a “Grey Lady,” a muttering nurse in all white, and small boy tossing a ball down a hall. It was your generic kind of haunting tales, but it was the most exciting occult location within driving distance.

Personally, I thought it was a little tacky, but I was graduating and my baby-punk was soundly frowning so I compromised. I drove with the sun gently glinting into my eyes and Sarah Jane bobbing her head along to some old Metallica.

We had a ouija board in the back, some incense, and an industrial thermometer that Sarah Jane nicked from the local Home Depot. The airconditioning blasted and we didn’t talk much since I could still feel her stewing over “being left behind” and it’s not like I could keep reassuring her.

The hospital was located off the highway in a wooded part of the city and with bright yellow construction tape surrounding the doors and outsides. I smiled as the large sycamore trees came into view and bright gasp of color approached.

“Ya ready?” I said and eased up toward the building off to the side, I didn’t plan to park us too close to it.

Sarah Jane glanced over to me with thick eyeliner and a thicker snort. “Don’t give me that look,” she said with a laugh, “you’re the one that should be ready! This is my terf.” “Ha,” I kicked the door open for effect. “Should I remind you of all the places I’ve gotten into before this? Follow my lead.” I could practically feel her rolling her eyes, “right, your cat burglar-ess. I’m coming.” She hurried after me as I surveyed the area. The sun had capsized past the horizon in a bloody death and the purpling sky was already popping out stars and a simmering hot summer night.

I was sure my mom had been calling me all day, but I didn’t really care. I had noticed Sarah Jane texting her folks on the way over, but it was probably more lies about studying at a friends place.

The second step to breaking and entering is surveyance: signs of recent footsteps or cameras or any kind of vehicle. There were some tire tracks of course, but I knew from some precursory googling that construction of the building had been postponed until funding confusion was cleared up.

The yellow lines were sagging and there was a lonely, desolate feel to the place. The hospital was dull white that almost broached into grey, it was four stories with multiple long empty windows on all sides. Some of the paint job had completely chipped away in places and left it bare and ugly dark brown. It was a boxy building with many turns and different bits sticking out and surrounded by dried grass and scraggly bushes.

I whistled lowly, “a looker.” Sarah Jane bounced on her heels. “Did you hear about the Silent Boy here?” She started chatting, she always was a chatter when happy. “He’s the one with the toy ball I was talking about. They say he was bed ridden here for almost his whole life with tuberculosis and could never get up and play-” “And now he wonders the earthly plane looking for people to play with.” I finished and Sarah Jane shot me a look.

“Yeah.” “Come on,” I waved, “let’s hang back.” Sarah Jane detailed different ghost sights of the hospital to me and I watched as all the stars erupting one by one from the nothingness and waited for it to be late enough. Finally, I waved us forward.

“Let’s do this ghost business,” I announced as we passed a “Wallis Construction” sign at the very front and crept to the front doors.

The door was jammed open with a big rock and I could already see the graffiti spray painted on the inside of the door. The peeled concrete wall had the regular phrases of WELCOME TO HELL and TURN BACK NOW.

It was the usual kind of fodder for other teens coming around these parts and I rolled my eyes at the sight. Several tags were on the walls as well for ‘BURNOUT KINGS’ and ‘CLOSED FIST GANG.’

The first hallway was dark and unlit and held all sorts of junk on the floors: there were bottles and plastic bags and piles of dead leaves. Sarah Jane followed close behind me. “We gotta go to the west wing,” she said quietly in the stillness of the dust and long shadows. “That’s where the children’s ward is.” That made me frown, but I shrugged and twisted around. “That should be west.” The only sounds were the thunk of our boots against the floor and the crickets chirping outside in the summer night. Sarah Jane was the first to speak again. She chuckled lowly, “this is so much different than our first time.” She said warmly. “Remember the big green house on Waterson?” I couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t remind me. It’s a gift I wasn’t eighteen yet and that couldn’t stay on my record.” I snorted. “You’ve still got two left feet.” We passed plastic water bottles and more scribbles on the wall, open doors revealing rooms with metal bed frames and plaster heaps in the corner. We passed an abandoned wheelchair at one point and that was probably the height of the scary business.

We even passed a hallway with some thick red X’s that the construction workers must have painted on the doors. Besides that it was just our steps and our voices and we started reminiscing.

We recounted our first concert together and the time I helped her get a septum piercing without parental approval and us standing up to my ex together and flicking through tinder on Sarah Jane’s phone just to laugh at it. We recounted the best music of the last year and the hollow place in my chest started to close.

I wasn’t leaving her behind, not really.

The crickets chirped even louder and I heard scuffling in one of the rooms which I assumed was maybe an animal or maybe branches scraping on the outside of the building. We stopped when we approached what must have once been an enormous mural.

“Stop!” Sarah Jane called at the top of her voice and looked left and right. “This is where we have to do the chant.”

I glanced at her and tried not to make a face. “Alright…” She gave a slim smile and took my hand with a squeeze, “Repeat after me: here we go round the mulberry bush-” “Seriously?” “It’s part of the ritual!” She snapped with a huff, “he reacts to playtime.” “It’s play time little ghost!” I called into the hallways and my voice echoed back and forth across the walls. “Haunted mulberry bush and all.” Sarah Jane let go of my hand and crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine.” She sniffed. “I’ll do it by myself.” She turned on her heels and started down the opposite hall toward the back of the building.

“Wait, wait, I get it, we’re trying to do this right.” I trailed after her and we argued for a few more feet.

“It’s obvious you think this is silly!”

“I just got here.” I tried to defend, “and I want it to be a good night, really.” She glanced over her shoulder with a stinging hot look in her eye, “because it’s our last one?” “No!” I said shrilly. “Jesus, Sarah Jane, I’m not even going to college.” She frowned slowly. “You will.” She stopped in place and looked at her shoes, “you’re smart and good at stuff and you gotta go.” “You sound like my adviser.” I said and tried to make it sound like a joke instead of resentful.

“You’ll see.” She kept stomping down the hall. “And you’re missing the point. You’re gonna go off and have a real life… and I’ll just be alone at school.” “Sarah Jane,” I said and put my hand in back pocket. “You’ll meet some cool people next year, it’ll be fine.” “Not it won’t!” She said shrilly. “You’re the only one who even noticed me this year and that’s only ‘cause I was wearing the right clothes.” “Oh, come on.” She sniffed loudly and looked back at me. “It sucks. It all sucks so much.” “Get a few more years on you,” I tried to smooth out the lines in her face. I hated having serious conversations like this. “Then tell me how much stuff sucks.” “Yeah, yeah, it only gets worse.” She smiled. “And then you’re a ghost.” “And then you’re a ghost.” I agreed and Sarah Jane exhaled and looked down the long hall with cobwebs on the ceiling and a couple fallen tiles in the center. “Come on,” I tugged on her sleeve. “Let’s do this cheesy nursery rhyme and visit a sick kid. That’ll help.” Sarah Jane sighed at me and turned, “no rolling your eyes through it. We want him to come.” I shook my head but took her hand, “here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush…” We did the silly rhyme together and then looked left and right. A soft wind cooed outside, but the night was thick and empty.

Sarah Jane snorted and put her hands on her hips. “Fine.” She said flatly. “That was a bust, let’s go chuck stuff outside!”

“Deal!” We went running down the hall with abandon and for a moment I thought things were back to normal. Then something caught my eye, “Shit!” I stopped in place and pointed at a light by the road. “Shit, shit. Cops!” A bright yellow light was outside the building with a bobbing movement. A couple murmurs let me know they were probably two young cops investigating a tip-off about teens breaking in. And they were coming closer.

I looked around quickly, “I can’t afford another charge on my record.”

Sarah Jane bounced in place. “My mom will kill me if she knows I’m still hanging out with you!” We ran in opposite directions, but I turned quickly on my heels and followed after Sarah Jane’s back toward the end of the ward.

“We need to get back to my car,” I said breathlessly and reached for Sarah Jane. “Turn, turn.” “There!” She pointed at a large door that was thick and metal and looked like it led to a stairwell. She yanked it open and went stomping for the steps.

I paused in place as I saw the light of the flashlight enter the building. “Hurry!” I said but I was the one that needed to hurry as the door slammed shut behind Sarah Jane and left me alone.

There was a moment, just a moment, but I swore I saw a small face in the darkness near the end of the hallway- smudged and smeared and most likely from the pump of fear in my veins.

I reached for the door and yanked it open and blindly ran down, down, down. The steps were concrete and my feet loudly slapped against them until I reached another heavy metal door at the bottom and tugged on it.

My arms strained against the weight of the thing and sweat poured down my brow in the humid stairwell. I had to strain to get a crack open and then slipped through with effort. The first story hall was different than the second.

The windows were farther apart and fewer between- making the scene dim and with only splotches of pure white light here and there. Instead of the doors being carelessly left ajar to reveal disjointed bed frames and wheelchairs they were all firmly closed. I noted that all of the painted white numbers on the doors were scratched off.

I turned left and right and realized I didn’t remember which way was the car, “Sarah Jane!” My voice hit each surface and seemed to amplify down the hall. “Sarah Jane Johnson!”

I twisted in place and almost fell over myself as I chose a random direction and walked.

I checked over my shoulder a few times for the flashlight, but it was only dull grey hallway behind me and moonlight catching the walls ahead. I must have walked for at least a couple minutes before I stopped and called again, “Sarah Jane! Come out.” Sweet was pouring down my back and I was starting to get angry. “I’m not playing around here!” I growled and balled my fists up, “we need to get out of here, now.”

I finally spotted a door ahead that was slightly ajar and hurried over to it, “I know you’re freaked out, but-” I pushed the door wider and the words died in my mouth. The next room was full. I had broken into several places before with abandoned stuff like plastic mannequins and weird animals and some old dolls stacked on top of each other. But nothing like what I saw in that room.

This room was completely filled top to bottom with pale blue hospital shoes. They were piled in the center of the room and looked old-fashioned and frayed. Many of them appeared to be tiny children’s shoes with holes in them and worn fabric. They stacked on top of each other as an ocean of discarded clothing and my stomach somehow lurched at the sight.

There were scorch marks and burns and little tears in each one it seemed.

I was gawking at the sea shoes when something flashed behind my shoulder, “Goddammit!” I cursed and glanced just in time to see a flashlight at the end of the hall.

“Sarah Ja-” I tried to call out but was interrupted. 

“Here.” A hand grabbed mine from behind the door and we started to run. I kept my eyes over my shoulder as I squeezed Sarah Jane’s hand and we fled down into a darker portion of the building where maybe the cops wouldn’t find us.

I was breathing hard in the incredibly long hall and the flash light trailed after us slowly, but persistently. “I can’t,” I gasped for air, “let’s find a room to hide in.” I called ahead, but Sarah Jane didn’t slow down. My lungs were burning with a feverish fury in my very center and my body shook with it.

“Come on.” I let go of her hand and turned to the closest door. “I can’t keep running.” I grabbed for the nearest handle and twisted it open. I wish I hadn’t.

On the other side of the door was filled with piles and piles of what appeared to be human teeth. My eyes went huge and scanned the hills of white molars and sharp canines and various baby teeth scattered across the floors in heaps. They all appeared to be riddled with cavities, at least one or two little black spots on each tooth and all spotted with decay and blackness.

I took a step back as my legs grew weak. “It remembers.” A voice said from nearby and I wrapped myself in a hug. “Sarah Jane, that’s such a-a fucking weird thing to say.” I called softly and my voice was too loud and too strange in the empty dark hall. All of the windows had disappeared from view.

I stood stock-still as the flashlight flickered from behind me and a cold seeped through the air like a vent blasting chilled air from somewhere. It was then that I reflected on the fact that the cops had not yelled for us to stop or called out any warnings or commands. They hadn’t said anything at all.

It was just a light. Drawing closer.

I glanced at the fuzzy glow behind me and it was too pale, too white, not yellow enough to be a proper flashlight and my stomach dropped. There was something behind me and it wasn’t an officer.

I turned forward and scanned the way ahead. Why hadn’t I noticed sooner? I reflected, but everything seemed to freeze in place as I couldn’t see Sarah Jane ahead of me.

There was however, a solitary white hand sticking out of the darkness ahead. It was just a small hand and the outline of maybe something- just barely a thing at all behind it. And it wasn’t Sarah Jane Johnson.

I gulped. “Where is she?” I whispered. “What did you do to her?” The hand shook itself in midair insistently and the cold was crawling across my neck and seeping beneath my skin as the light bore down on us. The fingers wiggled and reached for me and I had a choice at that moment to take the hand or wait for the cold to consume me from all sides.

I could hear breathing at that point, heavy, wet breathing from behind the light. 

I took the hand of the thing in the darkness and we started running again. We ran straight, ever forward and away. We shouldn’t have been able to run that much and should have had to turn at some point.

But we only tuned once and a second pale white hand reached for a door and heaved it open with great effort. The door lurched open with a screech and a puff of warm air blasted into my face and then I was falling out.

I toppled forward onto the yellowing grass outside and crawled away from the hospital as fast as I could. The door slammed behind me.

I climbed on top of a hill and looked back at the hospital. I was out and free of the sticky cold and terrible straight halls.

I turned back and stared at it. My eyes went wide in realization, and I had left her behind.

“Sarah Jane!” I called across the hill in a vain hope and I needed to go back into the hospital and find her. I needed to go back, but when I looked back to the building, a small stray pale light was hovering through the hallways. Searching and scanning and blinking.

And I knew it was still looking for me. 

I turned like a fool and ran back to my car. When the search team came back the next morning there was no sign of Sarah Jane Johnson. It was nothing but heaps of plaster and stray wheel chairs and bed frames and bad graffiti. Sarah Jane was nowhere to be found.

There was no staircase with a heavy metal door and no hallway with no windows and doors with shoes. 

And there was no one in that building at all.

[nerdygaymormon]

Do you think that the church will one day allow gay marriage? I truly hope it will - I don’t think it would be as big a doctrinal change as many conservative members seem to believe

I’m no church leader. I’m not entitled to receive revelation or determine policies for the church and I’m certainly not privy to the thinking of the leaders about future changes. But to me, it seems inevitable that gay marriage will one day be allowed, and here are some reasons why I believe so: 

The many reasons the church has used to explain homosexuality have all been disproved. Not so long ago, our leaders finally acknowledged that homosexuality isn’t a choice, that’s a significant shift in their understanding. It was upon this earlier belief that the existing rules and doctrine were created. This change has already led to some softening of rhetoric and I hope it also leads to more substantial changes. 

As the church tries to explain the reasons it opposes gay marriage, usually by reducing marriage down to fertility and ability to have children, it ends up negating many straight marriages. This again is a sign that there’s a problem in how it understands & defines marriage.  

A majority of LDS members in the U.S. age 18-29 already are in favor of marriage equality. The percentage of the overall US church membership that supports gay marriage already is in the 40-something percentage range. It won’t be long before it crosses the 50% threshold.  

Currently LGBTQ people are absent from the Plan of Salvation. There’s no path to complete the covenant path that leads to exaltation for gay people unless they enter a mixed-orientation marriage. More and more people are wanting answers, which is reasonable to request from a church with a prophet and apostles and on-going revelation. 

There’s theological teachings, which are backed up by academic studies, that the greatest happiness in life is to be found in being connected with another person. Current policies forbid gay people from this deep level of satisfaction and all the positive benefits it has in a person’s quality of life. Why would loving and fair Heavenly Parents create someone only to deny them a shot at real happiness? 

—��——————————————————    

There have been significant doctrinal shifts that the Church has made in several areas and is the better for having done so. It can do so again. 

For one thing, the Church doesn’t use the Bible to explain or justify its teachings about homosexuality. I can’t remember the last time I heard any General Authority use Biblical verses in such a way. I assume it’s because they know the Bible isn’t so clear on the subject, it doesn’t say what a lot of Christians think it does.

Plus, there are things in the Bible that are clear which we don’t follow, such as Christ’s prohibition on divorce & remarriage except in cases where one partner cheated on the other. Getting past that seems like it would be difficult, but not so. Why would allowing same-gendered couples be any more difficult when Christ didn’t speak against them? 

————————————————————    

Taylor Petrey, in his presentation “Toward a Post-Heterosexual Mormon Theology,” imagines the possible future of LDS doctrine regarding homosexuality. (It can be downloaded here). Essentially he says by bringing back some of our theology and ritualistic practices of the past the Church can accommodate same-sex couples. 

He points out that we teach that God organized intelligences into spirits. That doesn’t sound like sex, does it? Currently the Church talks about needing a man & a woman to sexually create a spirit child and that’s why it’s a no-go on same-gender couples. 

Also, there doesn’t appear to be any women involved in any of the creation processes until Eve is made. It’s all men working with other men. Together they even created Adam. 

A former ritual he refers to is how people chose to be sealed to other people they weren’t related to, nor lived with. They talked about the “law of adoption” and sealed themselves to each other, men to men as father/son, as a way to link families. Wilford Woodruff ended that practice. 

Today we let LDS families be sealed to non-biologic children whom they’ve adopted or who came to them via surrogacy. 

Both these types of sealings can allow a gay couple to have have the same sealing blessings as non-gay couples.  

Petrey is critical of the Church’s teachings about gender. He points out how confusing it is. 1) It’s the one physical trait that our spirit has pre-mortal, mortal and post-mortal worlds. Why is gender the one thing that is fixed? 2) Gender in nature and in humans is not strictly binary, so how does this work with the idea that gender is eternal? 3) The Church is very concerned about gender confusion, meaning that gender roles have to be taught and same-sex couples confuse things. Including such things as who presides, who is the nurturer, the provider? 

How can gender be a fixed thing, but also be something that must be learned?

Plus Heavenly Father seems to inhabit the nurturing role that the Family Proclamation says belongs to females. And we don’t hear much about Heavenly Mother doing much “mothering.” So clearly heavenly gender roles don’t match earthly gender roles. 

Dr. Petrey uses the Church’s manual A Parent’s Guide to show that we don’t have to stick to the current binary thinking regarding gender and gender roles. 

“There is nearly as much variation within each gender as there is between the genders. Each human being is unique. There is no one model except the Redeemer of all mankind. Development of a person’s gifts or interests is one of life’s most enjoyable experiences. No one should be denied such growth.”

LDS ritual and rhetoric could embrace this variation, which could include homosexual relationships.  

————————————————————     

I appreciated Shawn Tucker’s My 22 Point Opinion on Temple Sealings

1. People don’t choose to be gay, to be only sexually attracted to people of their same sex.2. No one, I believe, would make that choice, since it is so socially frowned upon and since it does not lend itself to the advantages (of which there are many!) of heterosexual marriage.3. Since they don’t choose it, and since it is really born in them, I believe the gay people I know when they say that they do not feel that their attraction is wrong or a sin.4. Mormons typically think that such attraction is inherently wrong and against God’s plan, while gay people, especially gay Mormons, do not believe that their attraction is wrong or sinful.5. Mormons see heterosexual attraction as normal, natural, and even God-given.6. I believe gay Mormons when they say that they believe that their homosexual attraction is normal, natural, and God-given for them.7. Homosexual marriage seems to interrupt God’s plan, since such couples cannot have children in the traditional manner.8. That is the common argument against gay marriage.9. This, I believe, is partly why the church is placing so much emphasis on the family—to put up the traditional, heterosexual couple as the norm and their families as the only way to fulfill God’s work and plan.10. But I think that this emphasis has some bad consequences.11. This emphasis tells single people that they are not actually fulfilling God’s plan.12. It tells couples that cannot have kids that they are not fulfilling God’s plan.13 It tells couples that feel like they should not have kids that they are not fulfilling God’s plan.14. I believe that God can have a plan for His children that does not include having children—this happens for singles, for the infertile, for those who believe they should not have children.15. This can happen for gay couples.16. People who do not have children can be of great, great benefit to their ward, stake, church, and world.17. Their work can be just as important as having children. (This is a very important point—you might want to repeat it in your mind.)18. I can imagine God being happy with that work, in fact just as happy with that work as any other.19. I can imagine God very happy with same-sex attracted people finding each other, loving each other, fully committing themselves to each, and expressing that love and commitment physically.20. I can imagine God fully sanctioning gay marriage as right for that couple.21. I believe that the love that they share and develop here in mortality will accompany them in the next life, and that the “same sociality which exists among [them] here will exist among [them] there.” (D&C 130:2).22. I can imagine God sanctioning temple sealings of gay couples.

[dustydahlin]

Seeking the Kingdom - Matt. 6:33

Subject: Engaging a Deeper Relationship with God. This article will show how understanding the Kingdom of God helps believers have greater experiences in God’s grace!

            “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

{Click here to watch the corresponding video}

One of my favorite Scriptures is Matt. 6:33. It is just one of those passages that draw you in. I have found much encouragement, refuge, and refreshing in this Scripture. It declares as a promise, “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” This is a Scripture of relationship with our Savior. It implies not only that we can have a relationship with God, but it instructs us to continuously press in – to continuously seek Him!  This is a command to be refreshed. It is a heavenly directive to touch the hem of Messiah’s garment and be healed! This passage pleads with the believer to seek and to find God! Every day, with each heartbeat.

Also, it is a scripture of great encouragement for both the rich and the poor. It is a promise! God has granted to us, by the seal of his Word, a promise for provision. As we “seek the kingdom of God and His righteousness,” God will provide for our needs. From a place of gratitude and love – from a place of relationship – we can know that as we pursue God, He will provide. As Yahweh ra'ah, He provides for the basic physical needs and the spiritual needs of His people. As we ask, seek, knock, and chase down the heart of our God, He provides for us “every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places” (Eph. 1:3). This is very similar to the promise of Matt. 7:7-11. “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. … If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” While the pursuit of provision lands the individual upon the sands of discontentedness and unfulfillment, the pursuit of God lands the believer upon the shores of satisfaction and security. God will provide for His people!

That is how I used to understand this passage until I realized something incredible!

This is how I would have taught this passage until I thought to study why it specifically referenced the “kingdom of God.” I realized Jesus used the phrase “kingdom of God” because it would have brought something specific to the minds of those listening. At that time in history, they would have had a fuller understanding of kingdom than we.

Thankfully, the bible gives us many insights into how we are to understand the Kingdom of God.

The Kingdom of God!

Firstly, when the Bible talks about “The Kingdom of God,” it discusses God’s kingdoms in two different ways. First, it talks about the kingdom of God as being something that will be established in the future. Some passages declare that the kingdom of God has YET to come (Mark 9:47; Matt. 8:11; Luke 21:29-33; 1 Cor. 6:9-10; 1 Cor. 15:50; etc…). And, there are other passages proclaim that the Kingdom of God has ALREADY come (Luke 11:20; Luke 17:20-21; Matt. 12:28; Mark 1:15; etc…).

 This is a highly theological/Biblical construct called the “already-and-not-yet.” … Like with so many things in the Bible, it should not surprise us to know that God presents his Kingdom in the same way… (George E. Ladd). 

Secondly, when it comes to the kingdom of God as being present already (as opposed to the future eschatological kingdom), the Bible grants many insights. (1) There are instances throughout the Bible where it describes a kingdom as a physical, geographical place. The buildings. The walls. The piece of ground upon which an empire is set (Num. 32:33; Duet. 3:4; Joshua 13:21; 13:27; 13:30; Ester 2:3; etc.). The concept of kingdom is understood another way, as well. (2) It is, more often than not, understood as being synonymous with the rule, reign, and authority of a king (Gen. 10:10; Ex. 19:6; 1 Sam. 11:14-15; 1 Sam. 13:13-14; 1 Sam. 28:17; 1 Chron. 10:14; etc…).

As Robert H. Stein states, “we should understand the term [kingdom of God] dynamically as referring to the rule or reign of a king.”

 Vine’s Expository Dictionary also says that the Kingdom of God “is primarily an abstract noun denoting sovereignty, royal power, dominion...  The Kingdom of God is (a) the sphere of God's rule, (b) the sphere in which, at any given time, His rule is acknowledged... [through] willing obedience. Henceforth God calls upon men everywhere, without distinction of race or nationality, to submit voluntarily to His rule.”

What does all this mean? This means that the kingdom of God (as it pertains to having already been established) can be interchanged with the rule of God. Historically and culturally, Jesus chose to select this phrase in Matthew 6:33 because it would have invoked the understanding of God’s rule – His kingly, sovereign reign. This is significant because it extracts information that we may have normally missed…

Seeking the Kingdom of God!

Seek the King! This imperative is birthed in relationship. It implies a personal relationship with God as our King! We are to seek our heavenly King. An earthly king would have been responsible for provision, protection, justice, and safe citizenship for his subjects. Likewise, when we require such things, we can run to our King. The King of kings and the Lord of lords. He is accessible, personal, and generous. From a place of relationship, we are to seek our King!

1 Tim. 1:17, “To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.”

Col. 1:13, “He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son”

Similarly, the directive to “seek the kingdom of God” is the command to seek to be ruled by God! It is not only that we have entered into a sacred relationship with King Yahweh, but we are to seek to be ruled by Him. We are to joyously seek every opportunity to submit to the rule over us. Seeking the kingdom of God is not a shiny, ethereal construct. It is not heroic and extraordinary. It is not enrobed in purple and gold. Seeking the rule of God our lives is messy. It is dirty servitude. It is the high calling of lowering your life into submission to the cross. It is feeding the leper and loving the unlovable. It is looking for opportunity to share the love of God with someone. It is maintaining a sensitivity to Holy Spirit that He may direct and lead our whole life. Seeking first the kingdom of God is sacred submission. We have, church, been called to seek to be ruled by our God!

James 4:7, “Submit yourselves therefore to God…”

1 Tim. 6:13-16, “I charge you in the presence of God… to keep the commandment unstained and free from reproach until the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ, which he will display at the proper time—he who is the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality, who dwells in unapproachable light, whom no one has ever seen or can see. To him be honor and eternal dominion. Amen.”

Additional Recommendations:

Gospel of the Kingdom

The Presence of the Future

Bakers Dictionary of Theology

Bibles

“Militant Thankfulness: An Essential Practice to Experiencing a Full Spiritual Life”

[vasquezkyle]

Education is sexy.

Disclaimer: Sex Education 2 spoilers ahead!!!

I have just finished watching the second season of Sex Education. The second season started with how most people normally perceive sex education, just like how the first season went. Significantly, the second season continued to tackle issues beyond the dictionary and social definitions of sex education. It tackled how self-discovery is a prerequisite of having important and meaningful connections to others. I liked how they focused on much more complex dilemmas of the individual self and the social self. Here are some thoughts (and spoilers) why the series is so important and why is it also important for us to have an actual and functional sex education curriculum at schools:

1. It talks about stigmas on sexually transmitted infections. Although this is a surface content of sex education curriculums, we cannot deny the vitality in understanding the concept of sex. The series started with a ‘chlamydia hysteria’ outbreak at the school which was caused by the belief that chlamydia is an airborne infection (which is technically not). I just wished this series made an effort to discuss HIV because it is the chronic and life-changing condition that sexually active people may encounter. Also, by discussing these issues, we can remove stigmas that not all people living with sexually transmitted diseases deserve a place in hell for being too nasty.

2. It talks about the importance of building and opening up on sexual relationships. This series may really raise an eyebrow on older people, but I really find it essential for people in their teenage years to discover their individual selves with the help of sex education. It shows how we discover our earthly desires, usually through masturbation while watching porn or seeing sexy bodies from a common household product (just like how Otis discovered the pleasure of doing it to his self at 16, kinda late though). I just thought that this series should have been more careful with dealing with sexual partnerships among minors, but I know it’s now on the broader concept of cultural and generational understanding of sexual partnerships. Even if the series is filmed and based on modern English culture, the series happens in the realities of the Filipino youth. For some, sex is a sacred act which people should only do with their husbands or wives. For others, sex is just a physiological need which people should not be ashamed of doing. Regardless of our point of view in the sanctity and need of sex, in the context of sex among minors, we should discourage the young people to engage in such activities. There are a lot of reasons why. These include lack of proper mindset, and inability to handle much bigger responsibilities such as teenage pregnancies, sexually transmitted diseases, etc. 

On opening up on sexual relationships, it is about mutual satisfactions. It is not limited to mutual orgasms as we are talking about sex, but let us admit it, sex has a big role in establishing relationships, even platonic ones. Mutual satisfaction is more of emotional safety and assurance among relationships. It is very important for us to know what and who we want, the one who makes us happy and blush and gives us sexual tension and other cliché stuff. This deals with the importance and risks of questioning the idea of entering dating scenes and not gambling all of your coins on to one person. From Maeve’s late realization of her admiration to Otis, to Ola’s dissatisfaction on Otis’ clock fingering technique and late realization of her admiration to Lily, to Eric’s emotional confusion between bully yet true love Adam and all-in-one yet can’t-find-myself-with-you Rahim, to Mrs. Milburn’s independence which masked her romantic attraction to Jakob with casual hookups, and up to Otis’ realization that it was Maeve and Maeve since then, Sex Education S2 tells us that the heart wants what it wants. Life will give us a series of surges of hormones and a timeline of different people which may either be problems, memories, or for keeps, but this series will help you realize that you already have your answer for your life’s satisfaction. It is up to you to flip the cards again and check which is the ace. 

In addition to building and opening up on sexual relationships with partners, the series highlighted the role of parents in the sexual life of a sexually active youth. Although this is very awkward for most people, it still goes back to them when the cards turn as problems.

3. It is not selfish. It talks about the society. As I have been saying for a number of times, sex education is not limited to sex, orgasms, relationships, infections, etc. It goes back to where it started, the society. The lack of sex education curriculum gives younger people the wrong understanding of how sexual partnerships work. Sex has been a taboo for some culture. I think it is not yet too late for us to establish a sex education curriculum that would discuss the essentials of sexual partnerships. I also believe that sex education should not (1) be first taught as a general education class in college, and (2) just be a small percentage of the discussions on the reproductive system in Science classes and gender and sexuality in Social Studies classes of the basic education. I think a proper sex education should have a significant time for a student’s weekly timetable as early as possible, and that it should not only focus on the surface definitions of sex. 

I really liked how Mrs. Milburn did a needs analysis for a sex education curriculum because it will be very vital and interesting for those who will receive the curriculum. Imagine sitting in a classroom to listen to avoid sex when it is not really what you need. I remember taking two general sex education courses in one semester in college because sexuality and gender are very interesting, HUME 10: Sexuality in Adolescence, and SOSC 3: Gender and Sexuality. Have I learned a lot? Not really. I knew how to put a condom on an eggplant and that if I do not wear one, I can get STIs from my partner, learned that the clitoris is the original sex structure of humans and that it just becomes a penis after sexual differentiation in the embryonic development, knew that sex has four physiological stages namely arousal, plateau, orgasm, and resolution, and I remember sleeping at the back of the classroom because I got bored of the repetitive basic discussions. I am not telling that we should not remove the anatomy, physiology, and political knowledges of sex. What is essential is the addition of the psychological and cultural aspects of sex education. Why don’t we discuss why are there sexual inequalities? Why are there ghosts, breadcrumbs, and cheaters? Why would a man jack off in a bus and cum on a woman’s favorite jeans? Why does the penis think that a human with a vagina or a castrated penis is inferior of them?

With these, I do not think sex education can function as a curriculum for all (which makes Mrs. Milburn as the star of S2). We really need to look how it is needed by the students to understand their individual selves so that they can become their better social selves and be better partners in the future. We really need to remove the negative stigma of sex first. And it is important that we should not only talk about it. We should also correct what is happening now. With a proper sex education, we will have peers who will understand us more and help us how to solve our problems on intimacy and relationships.

[kinglazrus]

The Meeting

Danny Phantom/Soul Eater crossover

Hey everyone! @andiezir​ and I are working on a DP/SE crossover together, and today we wrote a promotional one-shot. This is just a little sneak peak, if you want to read the full one-shot, links are at the bottom!

Story Description: Friends can come from unlikely places. Like, say, a meeting your father has with the King of the Ghost Zone

Most people had to wait their whole lives, however long or short that may be, before they met Death. Danny Fenton just had to fly 2000 miles from Illinois to Nevada. There he met Death every month. In the Death Room, at the heart of the Death Weapon Meister Academy, in the middle of Death City.

Lord Death wasn’t the most subtle Shinigami.

Danny flew into the Death Room, swooping beneath the blades of a long row of guillotines that lined the path towards the centre of the room. He held his daughter close and had a small bag of toys for her on his back. He was so late!

Sam was in DC, trying to get more laws passed to help the good ghosts who wanted to visit the human world, and no one could babysit their daughter so last minute, so he was stuck with Rylie.

Rylie, wearing a striped dress and leggings, was a bit groggy from being woken up from her nap, but otherwise fine. The four-year-old kept trying to reach for the bag, where Danny had put her favorite plush.

“Not yet, sweetie. Daddy has to set you down first,” he whispered to her.

Danny landed, his spectral tail turning into legs, as he looked around for any sign of someone, anyone.

The room was vast, the ground dusty and flat, and in place of a ceiling there was a cloudy blue sky. Four windows, seemingly suspended in mid-air, were the only obvious indication that this was a room and not somewhere outside. Albeit, it was a room not in the earthly dimension.

Despite the size of the room there were few places for people to hide. Black crosses, hundreds of them, were stabbed into the ground, leaning at precarious angles. But they were small and many of them barely reached waist height.

In the middle of the room was a raised platform. Danny, standing at the end of the guillotine path, was at the foot of a small set of stairs. Across from him, on the other side of the platform, was a tall mirror decorated with a skull and topped with three burning candles.

From Danny’s perspective, the room appearing empty. Until a sudden yelp of surprise broke the silence, followed quickly by a clatter and a thud as a young boy that had been behind the mirror fell to the ground. A skateboard rolled in the opposite direction, slipping over the platform nad landing in the dirt.

Danny recognized the boy. He was Death the Kid, just a year old than his little Rylie.

Kid scowled and pushed himself to his feet, straightening out the sleeves of his button-down shirt and smoothing the wrinkles on his dark slacks. He held his arms out in front of him, eyeing the hems of his sleeves, tugging gently on each one until they were the same length. Nodding in satisfaction, he looked up and finally noticed Danny.

“Oh, King Phantom,” Kid said. “Father isn’t here yet.”

Danny smiled slightly, setting Rylie and the bag down. “That’s alright, Kid,” he said, watching as Rylie took to studying Kid instead of going to her toys.

Using her fingers she signed, “Who that?”

“Can we use our mouth words, Rylie?” Danny asked, smiling.

She pointed at Kid. “Who that?”

Kid jumped forward, throwing his arms out in a wide pose. “I am a Shinigami! Death the Kid, son of Death!” he shouted, standing tall, a proud glint in his eyes. He held the pose for a few seconds, then strode toward Rylie and stopped in front of her, looking down at her. Although there was barely an inch between them. “And who are you?”

“I Rylie!” she said, puffing out her chest, before remembering there was something in the bag she needed. “Oops! One second,” she said, running to the bag and bringing out a black bear plush. She then turned back to Kid with a grin.

Kid hummed, cradling his chin in a pudgy hand. He bent down and stared at the bear, looking at its ears, its eyes, its nose. The little legs that stuck out and the tiny, curved smile. From the bear, Kid’s focus drifted to Rylie, taking her in properly.

Her hair was parted down the middle. Her dress sat straight on her shoulders, the hem falling around her knees. She held the bear in both hands, one under each arm, her little fingers curling into the bear’s chest.

After a moment of staring, Kid’s eyes gained a bright sparkle. “It’s perfect! Totally sym-trical!”

He danced around Rylie, reaching out but not quite touching her as he admired the complete symmetry of her dress, her hair, the bear. Even the way she held herself was symmetrical.

Full story on Ao3 and fanfiction

[sian265]

Legio autem Arcarius Legion of Archer Chapter Two:

Alec followed Magnus deeper into the party. Magnus took two glasses off a passing server’s tray and handed one of the cocktails to Alec. Clicking their glasses together, Magnus toasted. “To us, Commander.”

 “Alec,” he mumbled back. Taking a sip of the drink, he could not control the grimace at the strong alcohol flavor.

 “Pardon?” Magnus asked not taking his eyes off Alec’s face.

 “My name, its Alec. You don’t have to keep calling me Commander.” He took one more sip of his drink, hoping the taste might improve. It did not.

 Magnus smiled before taking a sip of his own drink. “Hum,” he muttered. “Alec short for Alexander correct?” At Alec’s nod, Magnus’s grin turned a bit mischievous. “Though, I do so like calling you Commander. It’s so commanding…”

 Alec frowned. How did he make even Alec’s title sound suggestive? He sat his drink back onto a passing serving tray. Turning back towards Magnus, Alec was stuck. He had no clue what to talk about with the High Warlock, and Alec didn’t see the Consul anywhere.

Magnus must have read some Alec’s face because his smile became somewhat gentler. “Come Alexander; join me as I greet some of my guests.” Magnus swept his empty hand out, indicating for Alec to move with him towards one small-gathered groups of his guests.

 Alec couldn’t control the small jerk his body gave as Magnus’s hand rested on his lower back. He exchanged polite small talk for a minute before falling silent, to people watch, as was his habit. He found that his gaze would not stray too far from the Warlock at his side. He watched as Magnus greeted people, and could immediately tell which smiles were real and which were merely polite. Alec knew the High Warlock was popular. His parties kind of famous in Alicante and being invited was consider a coup. However, he also knew that Magnus had sacrificed a lot in his centuries of life. Sacrifices that protected the Shadowworld. He was the creator of the portal, which changed the Shadowworld forever. Magnus was personally responsible for the wards that protected Institutes across the world, and he had been present at all the Accord signings.

 It was no surprise to anyone when Shadowhunters began leaving the dark ages and appointed the first ever-High Warlock to Alicante, that the warlock chosen was Magnus Bane. Alec knew his history. At first, Magnus had been met with resentment from other warlocks, jealous over him being picked for such a prestigious position. As time passed though, he became more universally loved. Magnus fought for fairness between Downworlders and Shadowhunters and with each generation made great strides in equality. Alec felt his generation showed the greatest growth in dispelling old prejudices and championing acceptance.

 Alec was pulled from his thoughts as Magnus leaned into him to whisper that the Consul had arrived. He looked towards the door and saw Jia entering carrying a file folder. She nodded her head at them, and Magnus steered Alec away from his guest and the party. They entered a room off the main one and once Jia joined them Magnus shut the door. Alec watched, as the High Warlock waved his magic around the whole space, ensuring whatever was said would stay between the three of them. “Drink Jia?” Magnus asked as the Consul took a seat on a small loveseat. “Please Magnus,” she replied and the ease between them let Alec know that the High Warlock of Alicante and the Consul of Shadowhunters were very comfortable in each other’s company. He didn’t know why, but that comforted Alec.

 Magnus handed their drinks out, this time Alec’s was a pale pink in color. He looked up at Magnus with a raised brow. “I think you will like this better, Alexander.” Magnus replied.

 Jia looked back and forth between them briefly before taking a sip of her own cocktail. Alec followed suit, liking this milder drink much better. “Thank you,” he mumbled to Magnus. The Consul handed a file to Alec and Magnus and Alec opened his. He felt dread hit him at seeing The New York Institute across the top of the report.

 The Consul began to speak. “As you can see Commander this mission involves New York. Now while Magnus is aware of what has occurred there is new information to share with you both.

 “Has there been another murder?” Magnus interrupted to ask.

 Jia nodded. “Yes, but let me fill Alec in and we will get to the latest developments.” Magnus nodded, but Alec could see whatever was going on really had Magnus upset. Magnus’s normally honey-colored skin was pale and his lips were pressed tightly together. Jia continued. “Alec, what Magnus knows so far is that there have been a string of murders in New York. The victims have been Seelie as well as mundane. The Seelie Queen is demanding satisfaction and warning that if we Shadowhunters don’t solve these murders soon she will step in. I think you can completely understand why no one in the Shadowworld wants the Seelie Queen on the rampage?”

 Alec’s grimace was answer enough. He had a few encounters with the Queen, and every single one, unpleasant. He nodded for Jia to continue.

 “The New York Institute’s forensic expert says all the murders showed signs of being sacrifices.” Jia paused and her gaze turned very somber and directed towards Magnus. “What we have recently come to learn is that the sacrifices are aimed at drawing forth a demon, but not just any demon, but a Prince of Hell.”

 Magnus’s gasp had Alec’s head snapping around towards the Warlock. If he had thought Magnus upset and pale before, it was nothing compared to the utter whiteness of his face now. Magnus shot out of his seat and turned away from them. He moved over to the windows of his study and looked out into the Alicante night. Jia held a hand up as Alec started to speak. She shook her head silently at him and turned a concerned gaze to Magnus’s ridged back. They both watched the High Warlock silently for several moments before Magnus’s voice broke the quiet. “By a Prince of Hell, I assume you mean Asmodeus?” He turned back around and met the Consul’s gaze almost challengingly.

 “I’m sorry Magnus, but yes, all the signs point to him being the one they are attempting to summon.” Jia reached for her drink and took a healthy sip before looking at Magnus again. “You defeated him before, you can do so again.”

 Magnus gave a bitter chuckle. “Defeated! No Consul I merely managed to banish him. Asmodeus cannot be defeated only sent back to the hell of Edom where he belongs. That banishing almost destroyed me.”

 Alec was lost. He could sense the rising emotions of Magnus. “I’m sorry, but you both are going to have to explain this to me. What does the Prince of Edom have to do with some murders in New York and why does this involve Magnus?” He demanded. They had asked him here. His Legion had a mission; he assumed these murders were the mission. Now they needed to include him in on whatever this was evidently all about.

 He knew he didn’t fully know or understand the High Warlock, but what Alec was sure of was that he did not like the look on the face Magnus turned to him. The look of shame and almost fear, did not belong on such a lovely face, Alec did not care for it at all. Even worse was the almost expectation in Magnus’s voice as he began to speak.

 “I hope, Commander that you do not think less of me when I tell you this.” Magnus held up a hand to halt the words that Alec was about to get out. “Asmodeus is my sire, and the last time he was summoned to this earthly realm, I was the one who summoned him.”

 Alec shook his head not understanding, but there was one thing he wanted to make abundantly clear to Magnus. “I don’t care who your father is.”

 “Thank you for that Alexander.” Magnus gave a small smile, but it did not wipe away the dread in his eyes.

 Jia interrupted before any more disclosures could be shared. “Magnus, I’m afraid there is more news.”

 “Bad news I assume, Consul?” Magnus asked.

 Jia nodded. “The last crime scene there was a message left. The message was directed at you, Magnus.”

 Alec’s hackles rose and before Magnus could say a word he demanded. “What message?” He couldn’t have offered an explanation, but the thought of killers targeting Magnus made Alec furious.

 Jia glanced at Alec in surprise. Perhaps due to his tone, or even that it was he not Magnus who sounded the most outraged and demanded an answer. She turned her attention back to Magnus and with sympathy in her voice, shook Magnus’s world. “The message said, ‘Give us Magnus Bane,’ and –“ here she paused before continuing. “It was signed with a crimson hand print.”

 Alec’s head swung back and forth, as he looked from Jia to Magnus. The later sat as still as if carved in marble, not a muscle moving. The silence so complete that the distance clinking of glassware could be heard even through the silencing spell placed on the room. Slowly, the paleness of Magnus’s face gave way to a ruby hue, as rage was clear to read on the High Warlock’s face. Alec jumped as Magnus’s hands shot out and all the glassware on the drink cart exploded.

 “Impossible!” The High Warlock spat.

“I don’t understand,” Alec said, still carefully eyeing the furious Warlock. “What’s the significance of a crimson hand print?”

 Magnus began to pace around the room like a wild cat pinned against its will. “There is no significance!” He almost yelled. “Because the Crimson Hand was disbanded by me, a century ago!”

 Jia attempted to calm Magnus. “Magnus, we don’t know for sure if it’s a one-a-be or if someone has attempted to reestablish Crimson Hand. All we do know is that someone is attempting to summon Asmodeus and that they know enough of your history to try to involve you. Magnus it’s clear, you are a target and in grave danger.”

 Magnus stared at Jia, though it was clear his mind was a million miles away. Alec could see no fear on his face, surprising him after Magnus hearing he was in danger. Alec was sure now that the mission of his Legion was to protect Magnus. To keep him safe. And Alec was thankful that Alicante was so well hidden and guarded. That would make the Legion’s job much easier. Magnus’s next words had Alec’s stomach sinking.

 “I’m going to New York.”

 TBC…