#if it gives me the chance to use more pillars of eternity songs

[dragonologist-writings]

Title: Just Trouble Fandom: Pillars of Eternity Rating: G Status: One-Shot Characters: Original Character (Makali), Captain Aeldys Ships: F!OC/Captain Aeldys Additional Notes: TTRPG Character, OC Backstory, Flirting with Pirates Word Count: 1300 Summary: While at Fort Deadlight, Makali runs into an old flame. Between the rum on her lips and those taunting eyes, she just might give in to the temptation she brings.

read below or here on AO3

It’s already a rowdy night at the Deadlight Court by the time Makali swaggers in through the doors.

Yes, it's true that most nights on Fort Deadlight could easily be called rowdy- the combination of booze and bawdy music and bands of pirates will do that- but tonight, there’s something extra to the revelry in the air, and Makali senses it instantly. Cheerful shouts greet her as she steps inside, and she grins back at the familiar faces in the room as she makes her way to the bar. The music filling the room is familiar as well, and she hums along, her smile growing as she finally recognizes the reason for the raucous atmosphere. She glances to the corner of the tavern and sure enough, Benweth is seated at the harpsichord, belting out a drinking song with his crewmates, all of them already deep in their cups.

How’s that for a stroke of good fortune?

Makali orders herself a rum, then turns to scan the room. Benweth’s presence is a welcome surprise, though not really for his own sake. He does play a good tune, but Makali is far more interested in the company he likely arrived with.

And…ah, there she is, leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room, her mismatched eyes already fixed on Makali and a coy smile on her lips. Makali returns the smile with one of her own, tosses her long braid over her shoulder, and ambles over to the pirate lass she knows so well.

“Been a while, Sea Wolf.”

Aeldys laughs at the address, loud and brash as always. “You’re one to talk. Can’t even remember the last time you graced Deadlight with your presence.” She raises her own mug of rum and jauntily taps it against Makali’s in greeting. “Where the blazes have you been?”

Makali shrugs and leans against the wall next to Aeldys, smiling down at her as she knocks back her rum. “Where else? You know I can’t stay landlocked for long. Not as if you’re much different.”

“Aye,” Aeldys allows, tipping her head in acknowledgement. Her eyes- one icy blue, the other pitch black, both rich with mischief- flicker up to Makali. “But I still find time to check in at Deadlight every now and again. It’s just decent manners, lovesome.”

Makali barks a laugh and edges closer to nudge Aeldys’s shoulder with her own. “When have either of us ever been decent?”

“Ha! I did miss having you around.” Aeldys chuckles into her drink, her gaze roving over Makali in thoughtful appraisal. “You ever think of joining up with my crew again?”

“Sorry, Sea Wolf, but I’m on the Lady Luck now.”

“Any chance of jumping ship?”

“Aw, you know I can’t just up and leave a girl out in the cold like that,” Makali answers with determined casualty. Maybe she should have expected this question; she and Aeldys do make quite the team whenever their courses cross. They’re both bold, fierce, unpredictable- it’s what makes them both such damn good pirates, after all. It’s also the same thing that leads most of their affairs, fun as they are, to go up in flames. “Besides, the last time we worked together, I don’t remember it ending all that great.”

“Ah, you’re not still salty about that, are you, lovesome?” Aeldys waves a hand in the air with a shrug. “That was nothing. And besides, the things I could promise you this time around are well worth the trouble.”

“Sounds promising,” Makali admits. “Also sounds familiar. Last time, your trouble cost me half a ship and wasn’t worth a handful of gold.”

“But wasn’t it fun?” Aeldys prompts, taking a step closer. For a moment, everything else in the tavern- the shouting pirates, the bellowing music, the smell of rum- is drowned out by the look she gives Makali, a look that sends a thrilling jolt all the way down Makali's spine.

Gods help her, Makali did always love those eyes of hers.

“Yeah,” she says, brushing a hand through Aeldys’s dark hair and letting her fingers linger on the edge of her jaw. “I do remember the fun.”

“And don’t you trust me?”

Not in the slightest, Makali thinks, and she knows Aeldys knows that. But Aeldys’s smirk promises excitement, and Makali is horribly tempted by that prospect. She knows Aeldys knows that, too.

“I got plans, lovesome,” Aeldys says, her voice going low, barely audible over their surroundings. “Can’t spill ‘em all yet, but big things are coming my way. I need people on my side, capable people. I know we’ve had our ups and downs, but you’re capable. It’s a rare fleet that can boast their very own renegade watershaper.”

And there goes the mood. Makali frowns and pulls away slightly. “I’m not a watershaper. You know that.”

“Point is, I could use you. You’d get your own rewards, and it’d be a good time to boot.” Aeldys doesn’t even seem to notice she’s poked a wound; or, more likely, she just doesn’t care. It’s one of the things which makes her so hard to be around, that callousness. But it’s also one of the things that makes her easy- there’s no fussing, no overthinking, just the next thing on the horizon.

It’s the only thing that makes Makali relax just a little more and ask, “Just what would this good time involve?”

Aeldys grins wickedly. “I’m sure you could come up with some ideas, lovesome. And in addition to whatever you’re thinking of in that pretty head of yours, I’d be making some real moves in the Council. You could be my right hand, and you’d be raking in some real loot.”

Ah. The Council. Whatever Aeldys promises, there’s no smirk charming enough and no promise enticing enough for Makali to get involved in that mess. “Flattering offer, but you know I didn’t come all the way out here just to get involved in politics.”

Aeldys huffs. “You sure? If you say no, I’ll be stuck with this clown.” She nods her head towards Benweth, still showboating on his harpsichord.

Makali watches him for a short while, humming along to his tune. There’s a part of her that does want to jump in and take his place, though she can’t say whether it’s because she wants the rewards or the challenge or just Aeldys. But Makali has very, very few rules in life, and this is one of them.

“I’m here for adventure and gold,” she says, and takes another swig of rum. “Not a knife in my back in some council room.”

Makali is half-convinced Aeldys will do nothing but pester her about this for the rest of the night, but the other woman seems to accept her answer. She still pouts of course, huffing and reaching out to flick Makali’s braid in a petulant manner. “Pity. We could have really had some fun together.”

Makali raises an eyebrow, and she moves to face Aeldys fully. Aeldys grins and digs her fingers into the front of Makali's vest to tug her closer, leaning herself back against the wall as her eyes roam up Makali’s body. Makali has never regretted that fact that she easily towers over Aeldys’s elven frame, but she always feels especially grateful for her stature when under the pirate’s appreciative gaze.

“Well,” Makali says slowly, “just because I’m not sticking around for long, doesn’t mean we can’t have a bit of fun tonight.”

Aeldys’s smirk grows, and her free hand curls around the back of Makali's neck, pulling her lower until their faces are level. “And here I thought you didn’t trust me.”

Makali tilts her head, an eyebrow raised as she hovers just beyond Aeldys’s lips. “Do I need to?”

“Maybe it’s more fun if you don’t.” Aeldys leans forward and closes the distance between them. Her mouth is rough and warm, and the taste of rum lingers on Makali’s lips after she pulls away. “Gotta keep you on your toes, lovesome.”

[s-udarshana]

🎵 - Theme music

Main Verse: Inon Zur - Fenris Theme

Wild, pure, and yet, far from forever free. The indomitable supplicant to a silent god of cacophonous obliteration. By alms of virtue, and devotion towards all that come before, he serves. Loyalty before survival.

WoL Verse: Pillars of Eternity: The White March OST - Stalwart Village

Servant of the Twelve, Blessed of Hydaelyn, and fated to suffer. The undying flesh that abuses the presence of his enemy for the sake of his creed. By unfortunate fate, and shackles of a second soul that refuses to let him earn his final rest, he serves. Survival before loyalty.

((thank you @nurakitten!))

Music of the Muse - Symbol for a Song

[pen-observing]

Tall, dark, handsome stranger (Ruin)

A devoid life in high society makes you question what making a choice for a passionate life really means. A party brings Lucifer, that beautiful creature, as an answer to what you’re truly looking for.

Warnings: mentions of abuse and infidelity, Lucifer uses a fake name, reader is gn!, I legit hint at you being horn knee but try to be very poetical about it

MASTERLIST

How many years have you spent standing on side-lines? How many years have you already toyed with the concept of regret between your fingers? Some may claim that time is an illusion; a filthy thief drenched in dread – it seems like an excuse; not a justification. An excuse of the lowest kind for those who have trouble admitting that time is very much real. It’s perception, it’s effect, it’s reminders. Time reminds you just how much you are choking in this very room. Nothing but a small human; with a delicate neck, heart full of pain and a wish to live something out on your own terms.

Your wish is as grand as this very room; all golden shine and lights that could be eternal. Delicate order of decorations that scream extravagance. A royal place fitted for the higher educated. A place with such dazzling faces which just pass by without making an impression on your soul. If you dislike it so much; why are you here?

History would claim it was security. History would claim it was a privilege. You just claim it was fear that resulted in a fitting circumstance for a better life. Right now, you are married to a rich noble who, sadly, only has that to offer. It is enough to survive, not enough to fill a void inside your head; inside your soul, inside of this damned ballroom.  

Was it a blessing or a curse which brought you alone to this party? Having to chat empty words with emptier minds as the music plays was torture. However, your spouse’s presence would make things even more unbearable.

As much as you want to break out, explode; turn the gold into dust – you could not bear such fleeting hope after 5 years of the same life. The same parties, the same ruin. Why should something about tonight be different? Perhaps, because you did not imagine time to play illusions on you, yet, alas, time plays along and alone.

Smooth words and fancy talking are never as interesting as hearing about a new face in such a boring crowd. Apparently, a man of black and red with enigmatic features came tonight. Nobody knows him, but - they all talk. It was only a matter of time before someone directed your attention towards him. An unimportant Madam made a casual remark about how: ‘‘All the handsome charms of this world could be in one man, but he would still be unfitting for company.’’ Why?

He was leaning against the wall opposite of you; a gloved hand holding a wine glass. Looking to the side outwardly showing distaste and unamusement for tonight’s crowd. If only you had the luxury of doing so. He was a free man while you were just a human tied to societal standards. Perhaps your eyes lingered a bit too long, perhaps time decided to play again; whatever the excuse or justification you want; your eyes met.  

An invisible string of connection.   Apparently, a strong pull.

When the Madame stepped away and you secluded next to a neighboring pillar; that string tugged his presence closer to you. It must have been his intention. You’ve seen his types before, why should he be more interesting than the surface? He would probably try to flirt just looking for trouble.

“It would seem that you have a strong desire to escape this place. Tell me, where would your soul rather be?”  

Inside of somewhere and something that doesn’t cry of emptiness. “Instead of answering such a pointless question, I will just acknowledge that you were able to see through my joy filled act.”

Was he observing you or just naturally gifted at judging other people? His words were fancy but not without genuine interest in his tone. Did he actually care?  

“If that is the case allow me to acknowledge how rude it is to ask a question without properly introducing myself. My name is Amias.”  

Looking back at such an introduction now, you know you should have stayed away. Why nurture the small hope while time sings a song about how this could be the one thing you are looking for? The song is tantalizing, your soul dances along to the melodious promise.  

You’ve been inside of these circles long enough to spot a dangerous man. You should have been more logical instead of surrendering to emotions. Why? For what cruel game are you dancing with him right now? For what purpose is his scent so captivating, his eyes so seductive and his touch so smooth? Why is his hand trailing down your back?  

Why aren’t you worried about the higher society? Why? You are married with a vow to a noble who seems to embody goodness to everyone inside this room! Even conversing with this handsome stranger can create rumors. Dancing with him creates a scandal.  

Why, why? You could have continued a historically secure life without tasting what is forbidden, would that have been so wrong?!  

Wrong? No. Creating more of that emptiness? Yes.  

Perhaps, you glided under gold with this man because only you know how a secure life for you means only financial stability. Your spouses’ hands are never this gentle, your spouses’ voice is never this delicate. His voice, however, is honey.  

Dancing, trembling with excitement as the anticipation grows from what this man does to you; this, this was the one thing you’ve been chasing. A chance to not play it safe, to not stay on the side-lines. Something to fill the emptiness of this life which has been a void for so long.  

This was a matter of choice only. Amias could give you whatever you longed for. Why wouldn’t you discretely invite him home? Why wouldn’t you give this man your body and soul while well aware about how his name itself was a lie?

His eyes are so pretty. His touch is so satisfying.   You want more.  

Yes. This is your choice.   You choose your own suffering. It might as well have some pleasure woven into it.   After all, Anna Karenina made a similar choice as well.

These strings are binding.   You are not free, he is. You are tied inside an empty life chasing a spark.

If you choose ruin, why not choose the hands of a beautiful stranger to bring it to you?

What is this? This is just an idea I got months ago for which inspiration finally came! Rejoice oh thee who cares! I tried to make it appropriate. One anon recently said they were afraid of asking too many questions so I am here to officially state: ASK WHATEVER YOU WANT! Be free! Honestly I read Anna Karenina in high school and remembered her while I was thinking about this. Speaking of reading, this might be my way of procrastinating on all the assignments I have. Am I rambling? Definitely. I just hope tumblr does this fic justice with tags!

[thepandapopo]

A Step Through Time Chapter 3: Wishes Do Come True

Synopsis: In which Sylvain comes to a horrible realization and Felix learns something new.

OR

Mercedes and Annette learn that they should really give disclaimers whenever they tell kids about wishing wells.

Pairing: SylVix

Chapter Index 1 / 2 / 3

It only takes a week for Sylvain to decide that his newfound knowledge about Felix’s sexuality is a horrible, horrible curse.

The type of curse that is initially disguised as a blessing because Sylvain is ecstatic that he might actually have a chance, but is really a curse because now he can’t stop noticing how many men seem to linger around Felix.

Did Felix always have this many men around him?

Sylvain never noticed it before, but now he cannot help but note that whenever he’s not sparring with Felix, there never seems to be a shortage of male soldiers clambering to challenge the sword master. In fact, if Sylvain is being honest, they all seem a little too eager to test their blade against the Fraldarius heir. Of course, none of them ever manage to win, but that doesn’t stop them from approaching Felix even on his grumpiest of days.

Sylvain doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it one bit.

And if anyone notices that Sylvain is now sharpening his lance with a tad more force than absolutely necessary in the shadows of the training grounds while glaring holes at anyone who approaches his best friend… well, no one says anything because they’ve all seen him skewer his enemies with negligible effort.

“Lord Fraldarius! Sir!”

A new recruit that Sylvain can’t bother to remember the name of jogs up to Felix with a sword in hand and a traitorous part of his brain notes that he’s well built and boyishly handsome.

“Would you be willing to spar against me again? The pointers you gave me last time really helped to improve my form and I’m hoping that you could do the same again.” The soldier stands with his shoulders back and spine straight in the perfect picture of respect, but Sylvain has done this song and dance enough times that he can spot the underlying flirtatious tilt of his head and innocently deceptive tone.

If this were the first time that he had approached Felix, Sylvain would have given him a pass. Hell, even a second or third time would be okay. But this is the fifth time this week that his recruit has approached Felix, and Sylvain cannot figure out for the life of him why Felix is giving him the time of day when he could so clearly go practice sword forms on his own.

So, in typical Sylvain fashion, he saunters over to interrupt their conversation.

“How about you spar against me instead?” To his smug delight, Felix doesn’t shrug off the arm that he throws casually around his shoulder. “I’d be happy to train with you. Plus, that gives Felix the opportunity to focus on critiquing you and giving you pointers.”

Sylvain picks up a training lance and gives it an expert twirl, muscle memory taking over as his feet slide into a ready stance that he could probably replicate in his sleep. There’s something fierce stirring in his gut and he can feel his body jittering restlessly; Sylvain has never been a fan of training (at least not as much as Felix), but his senses are on overdrive today and his mind is focused solely on winning.

“On my mark.” Felix puts away his own training sword and walks over towards a nearby pillar to watch the match. He crosses his arms across his chest and Sylvain can’t help but let his eyes distractedly trace the bulging lines of his biceps that drift down towards a tapered waist…

Damn it.

Now he’s turned on, frustrated and jealous.

A piercing whistle cuts through the air and Sylvain sends a silent half-hearted apology to the new recruit before lunging forward at full strength.

----

“You should have held back.”

“I did.”

His younger self snorts while cutting into his pheasant, “I’ve been your sparring partner for years. And I’ve fought by your side enough times to know what it looks like when you’re not holding back.”

A small smile creeps onto Felix’s face. He really shouldn’t be eavesdropping on his past self’s conversation with Sylvain, but watching the red headed flirt stumble over himself with this new information has been more than a little amusing.

In his timeline, Felix is the one who is always flustered – although admittedly less so now, so it’s nice seeing the tables turn for once even if it’s not with his Sylvain.

Felix doesn’t give any indication that he is eavesdropping – his gaze is still fixed on his own meal and on little Sophie beside him, who has her tongue adorably stuck out while carefully eating wobbling spoonfuls of Onion Gratin Soup.

“I’m surprised that you’ve been helping train the newer soldiers.” Felix can tell from the offhanded way Sylvain tosses the comment out that he’s fishing for information. There’s a subtle edge in his voice that Felix can only hear from years of learning how to avoid arguments with his husband.

“Why? It makes sense. Byleth said she wants more swordsmen to add to my battalion and if they’re going to be fighting with me, then I need to make sure they’re up to my standard.”

“Fe, no offense but your standard is a bit high.”

“Your standard is just low.”

Felix is eternally grateful for Sophie when she masks his snort of laughter with a request for another bread roll.

“That’s not true! Admit it Fe, you always have extremely high standards for everything.” There’s a nervous energy to Sylvain’s prattle, like he’s stalling time to build up courage. “Not that it’s a bad thing! But it is true that you have that expectation for all aspects of your life.”

“Really,” his younger self says dryly, “like what?”

“Like your taste in partners.”

Honestly, Felix is impressed that Sylvain held out as long as he did before caving and broaching the subject with his younger self, but that doesn’t make it any less awkward or mortifying for Young Felix. He’s only listening in on this conversation and he can practically feel the embarrassment that is flooding his counterpart, but that will be nothing compared to the absolute disaster this conversation is headed towards.

Is it considered masochism if Felix is kind of enjoying this?

“We are not talking about this.”

“Aw, come on, Fe! What did you think of that recruit? He was pretty cute.”

The violent coughing that follows is concerning enough that Sophie turns to look worriedly.

(“Papa, is he okay?”

“I’m sure he is, Sophie.” But not for long.)

“What?”

“The guy I was sparring! He was totally interested in you, by the way. Cute face, decent body, but kind of weak.”

“Goddess, kill me now - wait. You… since when were you interested in men?”

“Uh. Since forever? Fe, haven’t you ever heard Ingrid complain about me? I ‘flirt with anything that has a pulse’ – her words, not mine.”

As much as Felix is enjoying the explosive trash fire that is this conversation, he isn’t a fan of everyone in the dining hall knowing their business and judging by the steadily increasing volume of their conversation, there are at least a few others eavesdropping now as well, curious as to what has gotten the two nobles so riled up.

“What the actual fuck, Sylvain. Why have you never told me you were interested in men?”

“I thought you knew!”

“How was I supposed to know if you never told me?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry!”

His younger self looks like he is on the verge of either combusting or stabbing Sylvain so Felix takes it upon himself to intervene. Sophie, who has since finished her dinner, tilts precariously to the side as her eyelids droop. With one hand, Felix ushers his daughter off the bench and towards the front of the dining hall while his other hand drips the tray laden with their dishes. When Sophie is finally far enough ahead that she will not hear him, Felix takes the opportunity to casually stroll by the two men.

His presence alone is enough to shut them both up and Felix can’t help but let the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

As much as he would love to see the red head squirm some more, he does love the idiot and he cannot help but say something to him and ease his guilt. “To be completely honest, we already had a feeling.”

Once again, Felix finds himself on the receiving end of his infamous glare but he can’t find it within himself to care as long as he can end this conversation quickly. Consider it a mercy to his younger self, or to their privacy in general.

“Oh, and just so you’re aware,” Felix calls over his shoulder as he walks away, his calm voice at odds with the small shit eating smirk on his face, “Sylvain knows about us now too.”

Felix doesn’t stick around long enough to see the consequences of his words, instead quickly catching up to his daughter and scooping her up before depositing their dishes and heading back to his room.

----

Perhaps it is the consequence of eating cheese for dinner that catalyzes the stream of ridiculous night terrors combined with the fact that the Gautier cheese used in the soup was reminiscent of home, but  when Sophie wakes up for the third time that night in tears and crying for her Daddy, Felix swears that he is never letting his daughter eat Onion Gratin soup before bed ever again.

A lone candle sends flames dancing in their assigned room, casting shadows across the walls that flicker hypnotizingly and threaten to drag Felix back down into the dredges of sleep if not for his crying daughter in his arms.

As much as it breaks his heart to see Sophie in tears, there is very little Felix can actually do to make her feel better. He isn’t the one she misses, and he doesn’t have the magical capabilities to perform the time travel spell by himself – not that he would even consider risking the safety of his daughter in an experimental spell to begin with (speaking of which, he’s going to have a chat with Linhardt about how Sophie managed to get herself sent to the past when he gets back).

It certainly doesn’t help the situation that he is due to leave on a two day mission in the morning, which is why he shows up exhausted at Annette and Mercedes’ doors at sunrise dropping off a still slumbering Sophie in their care for the next couple of days.

Sophie may not be either his nor Sylvain’s biological daughter, but she certainly inherited some traits from her fathers; and the one thing that her and Sylvain have in common is that they both like to indulge in sweets whenever they are feeling particularly sad.

And so, with a request to bake cookies with Sophie and a hasty reminder to not let her eat too many sweets lest she get a stomachache, Felix hurries off to join his battalion that is set to depart shortly after breakfast.

Which is exactly how Annette finds herself sitting on a stool watching Mercedes and Sophie cut out cute little shapes from their rolled-out cookie dough.

“Sorry Mercie, I promise I’ll help out next time when there’s less… risk of fire involved.”

Mercifully, the healer simply laughs and waves off the apology; after all, it is no secret that Annette has an uncanny ability to make things explode in the kitchen without meaning to.

“Oh that’s quite alright, Annie. After all, I have a wonderful little helper already – isn’t that right, Sophie?”

Sophie doesn’t reply but continues to meticulously push the Pegasus shaped cookie cutter into the dough.

“Sophie…?”

Peering over the counter, Annette tilts her head so that she can see past the curtain of crimson that reveals teary honey eyes and a bottom lip wobbling dangerously with barely held back sniffles.

“Oh dear, what’s wrong Sophie? Do you want a different shape?” Mercedes coos and gently turns her so that both her and Annette can fully see her expression.

One lone tear manages to drip past long brown lashes before the flood gates open.

“I…I m-miss…” Sophie chokes out before abruptly stopping, her face scrunching up in distress.

Sweeping her dress under her knees, Annette crouches down to Sophie’s eye level and smooths her hair back in a comforting gesture. “Who do you miss, sweetie?”

Once more, a flash of uncertainty and reluctance crosses her expression before Sophie finally breaks down and whispers, “I miss Daddy.”

There must be something else bothering the little Fraldarius, Mercedes and Annette conclude after an hour of fruitlessly trying to comfort Sophie that Felix will be back before you know it, because nothing they say seems to elicit any reaction other than Sophia stubbornly insisting that she misses her Daddy. Any attempts to cajole further elaboration merely ends in Sophia clamming up with more tears, looking guilty as if she has broken an unknown rule.

“Sophie, are you sure you don’t want to tell us more about what’s bothering you?” Mercedes frowns. “Is there something more than you missing Felix?”

Flour streaked hands grab the hem of her dress to wipe away the errant tear tracks on her cheeks. Shaking her head once more, Sophia invokes her Fraldarius stubbornness and repeats her mantra. “I miss Daddy.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Annette pauses for a moment as an idea strikes her. There really isn’t anything to lose considering nothing else they have done so far has helped – not even the freshly baked cookies. “Hey, Sophie? Have you ever heard of a wishing well?”

“Wishing…well?” Little eyebrows scrunch up in curiosity.

Annette beams. “Yeah! It’s where you go when you have something you are wishing for that you really, really want to come true. I like to go there whenever I am feeling sad so that I can make a wish. How about we take you there so you can make a wish for your Daddy to come home faster?”

“I can wish to see Daddy?”

The hope stirring in her eyes makes Annette’s chest clench guiltily, but she’s desperate to cheer up this little girl who has taken up resident in her heart with her radiant smiles and cheer.

“Yep! They say that if you wish really, really hard that the Goddess will hear you and grant whatever you ask for.”

“Really?” Sophie turns to Mercedes with wide eyes in search of confirmation.

Smiling back, Mercedes nods. “Yes, that’s true. But if you want your wish to reach the Goddess, you must bring an offering that is connected to your wish. Do you know anything that your Daddy likes? Maybe something we can get from the pantry?”

“Cookies.”

There’s a beat of silence as Annette and Mercedes stare at each other.

Felix doesn’t like cookies.

“Uhh… are you sure you wouldn’t rather just eat the cookies?” Annette asks; neither of them are willing to call out a child, much less a distraught one. “Maybe there’s something else we can find?”

Even though they’ve only known Sophia Fraldarius for a little while, it doesn’t take a genius to know by the set of her shoulders and pout that her mind is made up, leaving the older girls no choice but to follow along, bundling up mini Pegasus cookies in a Mercedes’ white handkerchief and setting off for the well just outside the Cathedral’s main hall.

Thankfully, it is a relatively warm day and the wind does little to bother them, despite their high altitude. When the well comes into view, Sophie’s excitement grows with each step and by the time they reach the stone structure, the knot holding the handkerchief together threatens to spill cookies across the floor, loosened by her excited skipping.

“Oookay,” Annette claps her hands together and grins. “Before we make our wish, we need to make sure we properly present our offering.”

Placing the wrapped goods on the ledge of the well, all three girls take a step back and clasp their hands with Mercedes leading their prayer.

“Dear Goddess, we are grateful for your kindness and compassion. We offer these items in hopes that you will hear our wish and grant us what we seek. May you always watch over us and protect those we hold dear.”

Taking a step forward, Mercedes makes the first wish. “I wish for all our friends and comrades to come home safe from their battles.”

From Sophie’s other side, Annette goes next. “I wish to see improvements in my faith magic so that I can protect my friends.”

When it comes to her turn, Sophie steps forward hesitantly with her hands clutched to her chest. “I…I wish that I could see Daddy.”

Stepping back, Sophia hastens to mimic the other two and claps her hands twice to finish the ritual.

Even when they turn to head back towards the dining hall for dinner, Sophia carries her wish in her heart and repeats the prayer through the rest of the day and into bed. By the time she finally manages to fall asleep, her heart is swollen with enough hope that it chases away the night terrors and leaves her with dreams of riding through fields with the person she misses the most.

----

On the next day, Sophie rises with the sun.

Though still bleary eyed and exhausted, excitement runs like electric through her body and propels her from bed in a rush to get dressed in a forest green dress that matches a shirt she has seen in her fathers’ wardrobe.

If her wish really does come true, then Sophie wants to look her best so that her Daddy knows she has been taking care of herself and not out romping in the bush, wrecking havoc for her caretakers like she does so often when she visits the capital.

Breakfast crawls by ever so slowly, time moving with the same speed that her gloopy porridge drips from her spoon, but eventually the dining hall clears out and Sophie is able to drag Mercedes and Annette to the entrance of the main hall where she plants herself on the stone wall atop the staircase leading down to the marketplace.

“To make sure I don’t miss Daddy!” She had declared proudly to her caretakers when asked why she had picked this spot to settle down at.

Burnt sienna eyes focus heavily on the portcullis that protects the entrance to Garreg Mach. Even as the sky climbs higher in the sky and the noon bell tolls, Sophie does not leave her post, instead opting to eat her lunch consisting of sandwiches outside on her perch.

But as the hours of the day begin to count down and the sun sinks lower and lower towards the horizon, Sophie cannot stop the gnawing darkness of doubt that coils in her gut and grows stronger with the fading daylight.

“Still waiting?” Sylvain asks as he joins the small group of friends that have gathered anxiously anticipating the tears that will inevitably come when Sophie realizes that sometimes wishes don’t come true.

“It… probably wasn’t the best idea to give her false hope.” Ingrid frowns. “How are we going to console her when Felix doesn’t come back? He’s not due to arrive for another day.”

Letting out a moan, Annette drags a hand down her face. “I know! I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Now she’s going to be even more upset.”

“Why don’t you just tell her that Felix isn’t coming back tonight then?”

“Because Linhardt,” Leonie rolls her eyes. “We’re not monsters who go around killing children’s hopes and dreams.”

“All I’m saying is that the upfront disappointment might be the better alternative.”

“I’m sure we can just talk to her and explain that Felix will be back the day after tomorrow.” Mercedes reasons.

When the dinner bell tolls, it echoes throughout the courtyard and through the now-empty stalls. The sky glows with reds, pinks, and oranges that are slowly fading into the dark blue of the night sky, casting their last brilliant rays on the earth.

The sniffling that ensues shortly after the bell chime fades is expected, but no less painful.

“Is… is Daddy not coming?” It’s almost unfair how lethal Sophie’s teary face is as it cuts into their hearts.

“I’m sorry, Sophie.” Dorothea says, wrapping up the little Fraldarius in a tight hug. “I’m sure Felix is doing his best to come back soon. He’ll be here for sure in another day or so.”

Leonie flashes her best reassuring smile. “Yeah! I’m sure that Felix will be on his way home soon.”

“But I miss Daddy.”

More tears are coming now and the panic among the adults is steadily increasing.

Ashe and Annette do their best to offer small placating reasons as to why Felix hasn’t come back, however despite their best efforts, Sophie’s distress grows and grows until she is sobbing just as hard as when they first found her in the middle of the sealed forest.

“I want Daddy!”

“Hey, hey.” Dorothea coos. “It’s okay, no need for tears! Why don’t we get you inside first, hm? Sylvain can give you a piggy back ride, would that make you feel better?”

Ever on the same page as her girlfriend, Ingrid quickly drives her elbow into Sylvain’s ribs and pushes him forward.

“Ouch! Er. Yeah! Of course. How about it, Sophie? Want a ride back to the dining hall?” Sylvain beams and offers up his hands, but quickly retracts them when the wails increase in volume.

“Sylvain! What did you do?”

“What?! I didn’t do anything!”

Ingrid huffs. “Well, clearly you did. Listen to her! She’s crying even louder-“

“Rider at the gate!” The shout from the sentry breaks cuts through their argument and for one blessed moment, everything falls silent except for the sound of sniffling and hoofbeats on stone that grows ever louder as it approaches.

“Rider? Not a messenger?” Caspar frowns. It’s an odd announcement – there are very few people who are brave enough to travel solo during war – and the sentries know and recognize the Resistance army’s trusted messengers.

Which means that whoever is approaching is an ally, or someone they recognize… which is even more odd because everyone they know is either already accounted for inside the walls of Garreg Mach or are out on missions and not due back for a few days.

But when the portcullis finally raises and the oaken doors part, they too recognize the person astride the horse, now galloping through the marketplace with hair the colour of crimson flame and very familiar honey eyes trained only on the weeping child seated on the stone wall.

They all continue to gape silently in various states of shock even as the rider slows to a stop at the foot of the stairs.

“What the-“

It’s undeniable now.

If the Resistance Army thought it was weird that they now had two Felix’s, they were definitely not prepared for the arrival of an older looking Sylvain Jose Gautier decked out in noble regalia with another Lance of Ruin strapped to his back.

The lazy grin he flashes them is unmistakably Sylvain, but when his eyes finally return back to Sophie, his expression morphs into something so soft that it leaves the current Sylvain reeling.

“Hey sweetheart, did you miss me?”

Sophie wastes no time in scrambling to her feet and dashing down the stone banister to throw herself into the arms of the older looking Sylvain.

“Daddy!”

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

Author’s Note: This was so weird to write. Originally I wanted to do it in Sylvain's POV, but then it switched to Felix's POV, then I realized that I defaulted to active voice for Sylvain's part and told myself I would go back and change it to passive voice, but then the chapter just kept morphing and morphing and dear lord I don't know.

Imma just leave it in active voice for now. Because that's what feels right LOL. Maybe I'll have to scrap my whole passive voice practice; this chapter was hard enough to write as it is. English is hard. (Says the person with a major in English Literature).

Tag List: @pato-social

[orime-stories]

Watcher’s Opinions on the Gods

Tagged by @yanara126 to fill this out. Thank you! ^_^

Tagging @aban-ataashi @adraveins @atomizednat @embajadora-montilyet @ganbarimaster @grandmamohawk @haledamage @luminousbathhouse @lunarowena @orokin-made @queen-scribbles @risualto @serenbach86 @serialephemera and @shimmer-like-agirl for if any of you are interested and might need anything for this fine Watcher Wednesday.

This post contains a lot of spoilers for the events of both Pillars of Eternity games below, for anybody who would prefer to skip past it.

What does Seluna think about the gods?

1. Abydon: Likes him well enough. He’s about hard work, self-improvement, and sharing your knowledge and the fruits of your labours with others, which are all good traits for a community to have. I don’t think I’m going to cover The White March in my story because it’s not flowing so naturally for me, but in game Seluna chose to restore Abydon’s memories. She was very moved to hear how hard he’d fought to protect Engwith from the others despite what it cost him.

2. Berath: Complicated. Started out with a basic respect and appreciation for the key role they have in overseeing the cycle of death and rebirth. There’s no warmth or kindness there, but it’s a necessary part of kith existence. She didn’t really appreciate them bringing Raedric back, but she’d felt so guilty over what happened with him that she blamed herself and her actions for what happened more than she blamed Berath. She’s grateful Berath saved her at the start of Deadfire, but horrified when she fully realises the implications of how beholden she now is to the god and how little choice she might be allowed as the events of the story unfold. She’s particularly terrified that Berath will use her as an unwilling instrument to end Eothas.

3. Eothas: Oh my poor girl. So she’s a priest of Eothas, and she spends most of the first game refusing to believe that he really was defeated in the Saint’s War. She confidently continues spreading his faith and reassuring everyone that everything’s fine. Then when she’s confronted with the truth in the Hall of Stars, she does not take it well. At all. Then soon after she finds out that the gods aren’t even real anyway. X_X In the end she decides that Eothas’ principles of benevolence, honesty and redemption are still principles that are worth cultivating in the world, god or no, and she finds a new rhythm for herself. Then he inhabits a giant statue that kills her and destroys the keep and community she’d spent a lot of time and love on cultivating. That hurts. A lot. So she goes chasing him through the Deadfire with extremely mixed emotions - not sure whether to rejoice at his return, fear it, or curse him for it. I’m still tangling out the orders and combinations of when all those feelings hit. But ultimately, she still loves him and what he stands for and what he’s trying to do for kith, and it doesn’t really take much convincing for her to remember and dive back into that. She hopes that they’ll all be able to live up to the faith he has in them to find a new way forward.

4. Galawain: Very uncomfortable with him. His way of survival of the fittest and at the expense of others is very far removed from her ideals of community and helping each other to survive together. She’s also nervous around / afraid of animals, so she’s honestly probably just plain frightened of him.

5. Hylea: It was all going so well until Skaen revealed that she’d been the inspiration for what happened to Aelys. Up until that point Seluna really liked Hylea and all the beauty, song and life she spread throughout the world. And she was so grateful to hear that Hylea’s followers were helping to shelter Eothasians during the Dyrwoodan purges. She accepted Hylea’s blessing to make it down to Sun in Shadow and returned the souls to their originally intended owners. But after hearing Skaen’s jibe, and in the greater context of getting fed up with the rest of the pantheon for opposing Eothas, Hylea loses a lot of her respect.

6. Magran: Very uncomfortable with her. She doesn’t agree with the way Magranites romanticise suffering as a necessary part of growing or improving and how that can easily pave the way for crueler world views. She has also had negative experiences with fire that turn her away from Magran’s whole aesthetic in general. She doesn’t appreciate that it was largely Magranites that fought Eothasians in the Saint’s War, but she’s unsure how much of that was Magran’s direct will and how much of it was just kith being awful. But then she got confirmation that the Godhammer bomb was indeed made under the god’s guidance, and also experienced first hand her attempted destruction of Eothas (and Seluna’s party as collateral) at Magran’s Teeth.

7. Ondra: It’s very complicated, but ultimately not positive. Seluna is a moon godlike, but her parents had told her and she’d always believed that she’d actually been marked by Eothas. So that was yet another existential crisis the poor girl got to face in the Deadfire when it was confirmed that she had always been Ondra’s. She’d never felt much of a connection to the god. She likes the sea well enough, but wallowing in sorrow and loss and willfully forgetting and obscuring truths doesn’t work for her at all. So when she learns the full extent of the power Ondra has over her, she is extremely uncomfortable with that. All these gods staking a claim on her soul, except the one she’d willingly give it to...

8. Rymrgand: Utterly terrified of him. His domain is the inevitable end of all things. No purpose to it, no meaning, no chances to affect change or make amends, just an end. Her usual weapons of words and kindness are utterly useless against it. The animancers accidentally sending her to his realm in Deadfire was the most scared she’d ever felt in her life. So that put an end to any chance of her continuing to pursue the Vailians as her allied faction.

9. Skaen: Extremely uncomfortable with him. She has a lot of sympathy for the beaten and downtrodden people he represents, but completely disagrees with his methods for helping them - inflicting the cruelest punishments possible on those oppressing often while destroying the oppressed too in the process. It feels like such a horrible and pointless way to end things, turning your back on every other possible avenue of communication and change that could improve things more slowly, but ultimately more stably in a way that benefits all. (This insistence that there’s always a clean and kind way out of things is absolutely a flaw just as much as it is a strength). What his followers planned to do with Aelys just makes her sick to her stomach.

10. Wael: Does not get them at all, but is comfortable enough with the understanding that she’s not supposed to. They don’t seem actively harmful? Or helpful? Might as well just not be there maybe? She doesn’t know.

11. Woedica: Actively angry towards her. She is not impressed with the Leaden Key. Or Thaos. Or that Woedica was literally stealing the souls of babies. Solely to empower herself. Which seems pretty against the “god rules”. But apparently Woedica just picks and chooses which rules she wants to follow at any given moment. Despite being the literal god of oathkeeping. Seluna is just absolutely infuriated with her cold meddling and hypocrisy, and thinks she’s potentially the most dangerous of all the gods.

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Fic Writer Meme

I have been tagged by @noire-pandora​. Thank you for the tag! ❤️

Name: dragonswithjetpacks. But I don't mind being called Kay.

Fandoms: I've written for Final Fantasy, Fable, and Pillars of Eternity which you can’t find here. But I'm known for Dragon Age, Mass Effect, and recently Baldur's Gate.

Most popular oneshot: The Quiet Closet. Which is ironically the first piece of smut I've published. I've tried only one other time before. But this one was a more serious take.

Most popular multichapter: Strange Fates, an offshoot of Fenris and my Inquisitor Lavellan. Which will resume! As soon as I can get Astarion out of my head. I am still really excited about it. It’s a slow burn. And really dives into what Aeva is about.

Actual worst part of writing: Getting into the flow. I have an easy time with ideas and getting them down. But sometimes sitting down and editing and putting together the sentences is hard. Sometimes I lack motivation. Sometimes it's inspiration. Sometimes creativity. When all three of those things are together, it's great. But I have to time it right.

How you choose your titles: I'll either find a short title that relates to something said in the fic or the name of the song that inspires. Sometimes it's a lyric, too.

Do you outline: For longer fics, yes. I actually have many outlines with unfinished fics. I also like to do it with timelines, too. Sometimes with maps attached.

Ideas I probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice?: I'd really like to finish Voices of the Fade, which I’ve changed the name of like three times. I really just loved the idea. But when I started the fic, I had gotten writer's block really bad. And I just never went back to it. It's about a romanced warden Alistair who starts to crazy after the warden sacrificed herself.

Callouts @ Me: I won't go back and finish big projects because I hyperfixate on new things too quickly. Like I started a PoE fic and lost interest before I even beat the game. I just jumped fics.

Best writing traits: I'm actually unsure. I always thought my dialogue and fight scenes were great. But I'm still experimenting and getting know where I’m best.

Spicy Tangential Opinion: People aren't as open about appreciating fanfic. And they aren't willing to give things a chance. Like smut seems to be the only thing to draw people in. But there are other really good stories out there with heavy plot. It may take awhile, just like in an actual book, but the delivery is usually always worth it. That and readers don't understand the weight of leaving comments. Like just one comment from one person makes my entire day and will keep writing. A lot of us are hard on ourselves and knowing someone out there enjoys our work is a huge boost to our confidence. I love it when people tell me what they liked about my story. Or if they think I could have wrote a certain scene better. Like, I want to know how I am doing and how I can improve. But no one really takes the time the express how they feel about what they've read. Unless it's smut. Ya'll are just horny all the time.

Most of you guys have already been tagged. But uh I’m not sure if I saw anything from @skullharvester yet!

[hinabes]

CN Server 2nd Anniversary Overview

Thank you for staying with the snowy nights of the sleeping world;  May the moonlight guide us to the wonderland of eternal spring.

Leaves that touch the sky create shade and Songbirds beautiful chirp a tune.

A small figure is making a dash; pocket watch in hand He mutters that he is late for the tea party.

Is this reality before you? Or is it a dream? The cat appears from thin air to ask.

And so, welcome to the dreamscape that belongs to only you!

- Anniversary events announcement (Part 1)

New Food Souls

SP Magic - Rice ○ New rarity: SP (Ascended art is Live2D, has passive skill) ○ Strong but expensive

UR Healer - Candy Cane ○ Strong and cheap

UR Magic - Croissant

SR Strength - Fish ‘n Chips

SR Magic - Baguette

SR Strength - Laba Noodles

R Strength - Double Skinned Milk

New Skins

Turkey - Lost In Wonderland ○ Live2D animated

Foie Gras - Dark Angel’s Scythe ○ Live2D animated

Croissant - Tea Party Time

Fondant Cake - Lamp’s Wishes

Cheese - Lost Rose

Cassata - The Fox Awaits

Eggnog - Dreamscape Labyrinth

Pretzel - Quiet Respite

Surstromming - Illusory Melody

CG Story

“Summon” CGs ingame that show you a 5-part fully-voiced story.

Fish ‘n Chips sets off a trap while talking to Croissant and gets tied to a pillar.

Tequila and Martini reveal that they set up the trap, and Easter Egg built the trap itself.

Candy Cane enters and Fish ‘n Chips asks her for help (to no avail).

Martini throws darts and Tequila draws on Fish ‘n Chips. He asks Croissant for help (to no avail).

Croissant and Candy Cane discuss the celebration. Their Master Attendant appears and they greet them.

Bilibili Live Broadcast

Date & Time: 14 Dec 6pm (GMT+8) [Link to broadcast] ○ I will be translating it live in the wiki discord!

2nd anniversary theme song “Everlasting”, composed by MIzushima Yasutaka and sung by Tomatsu Haruka (Sichuan Hotpot’s JP VA)

SP Rice is voiced by famous Chinese VA, Shan Xin (山新). You may know her as voice provider for the Chinese vocaloid Luo Tianyi. ○ Interesting interludes from the recording studio and a gift from “Rice” will be featured in the broadcast.

AKB48 Team SH members Zhu Ling, Shen Ying and Li Shiqi will be the Chinese VAs for Hardtack, Mango Pomelo Sago and Dongtang (Specifics unknown) ○ The 3 of them will have a joint character song, “Baby baby! We’re your little biscuits~”

New gameplay mechanics unveiling, viewers will get to pick which they want live.

2nd Food Soul Design Contest

BCY contest link (has info and entries)

Implemented winners from the 1st contest are Wuyi Dahongpao, Baguette and Almond Tofu.

Designing the following may give you a higher chance of winning: ○ Mala Stir-Fry ○ Potato Chips ○ Tamagoyaki ○ Crab-Yellow Pastry ○ Tomato and Eggs ○ Lava Bun ○ Churros (?) ○ Financier Cake ○ Stollen ○ Hotcakes ○ Tiger Skin Swiss Roll (Included reference links for the more obscure ones)

Submitted entries may be included in the fanart artbook Funtoy is releasing in 2020(!!)

Other Notes

Written based off information known as of 13 Dec

Multiple giveaways! ○ (Requires Bilibili acc?) Lucky draw during live broadcast for one iPad. ○ Follow CN official acc and share this post by 16 Dec for one iPhone 11. ○ Follow CN official acc, share this post and tag a friend for a variety of prizes, shown in the images of the post. (You can tag me, @/hinabes)

CN official website updated! (Reuses assets and code from CCS collab lol)

Regarding FS design contest: ○ Not sure if churros is actually churros, it could also be bagel or passionfruit depending on how typo’ed it is. Most likely churros tho ○ Figurine submissions are allowed ○ The ingame FS Pancake is actually the Chinese sesame seed cake, as you may know. To avoid confusion, the contest is indeed asking for the western pancake/hotcake. ○ For reference, all 3 implemented FS from the 1st contest were part of the listed foods. About half the listed foods have been mentioned or implemented in some way as well. ○ Tamagoyaki is the only name from the 1st contest list that’s here again.

[theritualofourexistence]

Grandmom

When I talk about my family, there are a couple different things I find myself saying often.

First, my family is my most valuable gift. I am so, so grateful to be a part of the family I have, and they mean more to me than anything else in the world.

I’ve also been known to joke pretty casually that divorce runs in my family.

While I usually say that with a smile, it’s not inaccurate. My parents are divorced. My parents’ parents are divorced. Though I would never imply that divorce was easy or straightforward, it has brought some pretty incredible people into my life.

When I was born, I had three full sets of living grandparents and a set of living great-grandparents. On my dad’s side, I had Grammy (his mom) and Pap-Pap, Grandpa (his dad) and Nana, and Grandma and Poppy (his mother’s parents). Today, four of those six people are still living, which is something I treasure beyond words.

My mom’s mom passed away when my mom was only 19, so I never had the chance to meet her. My mom, though, speaks very candidly about knowing that Dotty is still around and has been with her (and all of us, really) during the most important moments in our lives. My mom’s dad, my Pop-Pop, married Irene after he and my mom’s mom divorced. By the time I was born, the drama of that divorce was long gone and my mom’s whole family had developed a very special sort of relationship with Irene, my Grandmom. Irene made this easy. I think loving was a very simple thing for her. Not that it wasn’t a sacrifice, just that it came very naturally.

My mom was sick around my birth so my first home on this whole earth was actually under my Grandmom’s roof.

My Pop-pop had his first major stroke when I was only a couple years old. I wish that I remembered him better when he was healthy, but most of my memories of him are of him in a wheelchair. He could be difficult (that’s putting it mildly), but my Grandmom cared for him through three major strokes and countless mini strokes, right up until he passed away at home in 2004. I remember saying goodbye to him. We didn’t have much of a relationship, but I was old enough to recognize the impact his passing had on my mom and her family. I think he was very, very lucky to find Irene. Really, I think the whole family was lucky that he did.

My Grandmom has been dealing with multiple medical issues including crippling arthritis for a lot of years now. She has never complained about this pain. In fact, I’m not sure I ever witnessed her complain at all. The last few years have been especially hard as she lost her driving privileges and her mobility began to decline. She didn’t like being stuck at home. That did not, however, stop her from continuing to mentor younger members of her church who were seeking spiritual grief counseling. Over Christmas she said that it was harder over the phone but that it was worth it. It made her feel like she was doing good work, that she had some value. I mention this specifically because it goes back to what I said about her ability to love. I don’t know that I would call this fierce. I would call it calm but strong. She managed to love everyone the same way, the same amount, with the same steady current of support.

On Monday, my Grandmom had a stroke.

She began to decline a few hours after reaching the hospital.

She passed away yesterday.

I know she is at peace. And for that I am so, so grateful. I will miss her… really, I already do.

It hasn’t been a secret that she has been ready to go for a while. Not in a morose way, but in a peaceful, acceptance-of-mortality way. Often, at family gatherings, when you asked how she was doing, she would say with a laugh, “Well, I’m still here and I still remember my name!”

I am grateful that my Grandmom didn’t spend more than a few hours unable to recall her name.

Because of this peace she had made with her eventual passing, I had the privilege of saying goodbye slowly, over a couple of years. I’m very grateful for that too.

She was a genuinely remarkable woman and she shared a deep, deep love with a family she didn’t have any responsibility to embrace. We certainly embraced her right back though.

She’s been the matriarch of the family for decades. For those of you who know my love of musicals, it’s funny, but she brings to mind a specific character from one of my favorite shows. I haven��t thought about this until her passing, really, but I find myself thinking about it a lot over the past few days.

I don’t have any claims on an abuela. That is not my story. But Abuela Claudia’s trademark song in “In the Heights” is “Paciencia y Fe.” Though my Grandmom and Abuela Claudia are more different than they are alike, if there is one person in my life who has demonstrated patience and faith, it’s my Grandmom.

It’s no secret that I run hot. A lot of people in my family do.

But my Grandmom was able to care so, so deeply in the most rhythmic, steady way. I’ve used that word “steady” a lot already, but I can’t seem to find a better way to say it. She was a pillar. Unshaking, constant.

For myself, a lot of my personal rhythm is sort of like learning how to drive stick. It’s jarring at times and there is jolting and horrible sounds and stopping and starting and stalling.

My Grandmom was never like that. If I’m learning stick, she was a train on a well-known track. She was the metal core of a building’s supports that takes the vibrations of an earthquake and disperses them safely and evenly. She was the strongest roots of a tree, the calm surface of a deep lake, she was the roof of the house in Glenolden that has been in my family longer than I have.

My family will miss her anchor in our lives. But we will be fine because of how she built us up.

When I was a kid, we would play with my uncle’s old Legos in her basement. She would always get our favorite treats, Yoo-hoo and crumb-top donuts and all the yummy things we didn’t get at home. She and I made our Christmas punch together every year. She iced my finger and put a band-aid on it when I was stung by a bee for the first time. Every Christmas she would leave us a special gift by our bedroom door, either pajamas or slippers to wear when we gathered as a family to open gifts on Christmas morning.

My Grandmom has been a part of every Christmas I’ve ever had.

She was very quick to laugh, even when her physical condition started to decline. It’s her laugh that I know I will remember most often and most easily. Her laugh, and of course, her love.

No one in my mom’s family would be who they are without her. That’s the sort of quiet, strong impact she had.  She wasn’t the star on the stage, she was the stage manager—making sure everything went off without a hitch. It seems like the right thing was never a hard thing for her to identify. Not that she didn’t have to make hard decisions, just that she always handled them with grace.

Even when she chided me for misbehaving, she did so in a way that never made me feel bad about myself. I never doubted her love or her pride in me, in our family.

She knew when to push and when to leave something be. She loved to play games, I remember a lot of rounds of Upwords, and she loved to watch the birds in the backyard. I remember quiet conversations at night at the small table in the kitchen with just the light on above the sink. I remember that she came out to the bar with me and my parents when my 21st birthday happened to fall on the eve of my brother’s high school graduation. I have never been a drinker and even that night I don’t think I finished my beer. But she could tell that I was feeling low because I had spent my birthday playing second fiddle and she did what she could to soothe that. I remember just sitting quietly with her, so many times in so many ways over so many years. Being around her was peaceful.

She lived to welcome so many grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I truly just feel so fortunate that I got to be one joint on the web of people she knew and loved during her life. I share no genetic material with my Grandmom but that did not stop her from gluing my whole family together and very gently and carefully holding every piece in place until the glue set firm.

She may be gone but the glue remains, stronger than ever, fortified, eternal.

Thank you, Grandmom. You’ve played an instrumental role in giving me my greatest gift, my family. I wouldn’t be me without you. I’ll keep loving you from here, just like I know you’ll keep loving us from wherever you are now. It’s easy for me to imagine you blending into the bright force of light that is the love flowing in and around and through all of us. I will spend my life striving to have the impact on others that you have had on so, so many people. In a world where peace and love and strength are priceless currency, you were and will always be one of the biggest diamonds I’ve ever seen.

Once you’re done telling Pop-pop all about the Eagles winning the Superbowl, you’ll have to give him a kiss for me.

We miss you, but we’ll be okay down here. Thank you so much for everything you gave to us. It is such a blessing to know you’re now basking in the peace you so often provided for others here on Earth.

I love you, Grandmom.

[eldritchsurveys]

o12.

Have you ever sold anything online either on Craigslist, eBay, Amazon, etc.? If not, what is your website of choice like any of the above for buying things? >> Nope. My website of choice for buying things is Amazon, I guess, just because it’s easy and they have so much shit. If the opportunity arose, would you ever go to a nude beach? Do you think you’d be comfortable enough, being naked among others like that? >> Yeah, I’d try it. I suppose it couldn’t be all that bad, if everyone else is nude too. Levels the playing field, and all. But I wouldn’t want to like... sit on stuff butt-naked. Like, that’s the main thing that bothers me about just walking around nude -- I don’t want to put my unprotected parts on stuff, bruh. So... yeah, I guess I wouldn’t stay long for that reason. At least let me put some bikini bottoms on or something, damn. What was the last book you read? What about the book drew you to want to read it (plot, title, cover…)? Did you end up liking it? >> Dune Messiah. What drew me to it is that it’s the second book in the series I’ve dedicated myself to reading, so it was just the logical progression. I did indeed like it. Have you ever considered keeping a dream journal? If you have one, have you ever looked back on it at all of the odd/interesting dreams you used to have? >> I try to keep one, but my dream recall is very sporadic and unpredictable. Sometimes I look back at what I do have, yeah. Do you think regifting is cheap, or is it okay? Have you ever regifted before? >> I wholly approve of regifting. I think it makes more sense to give something to someone who will actually use or appreciate it, rather than hanging onto something just because... what, someone gave it to me? Like, I appreciate being given the gift, because the thought really does count to me, but if I’m not going to use the thing, then why would I let this perfectly good object go to waste just collecting dust in the closet or something when I can give it to someone who’ll actually enjoy it???? LOGIC

How often do you wash your hair? What do you think when you hear of some people not washing their hair for weeks at a time? Is it healthier, as they claim? >> Every couple of weeks or so. --Well, seeing as I’m one of those people, I don’t think much of anything, because it’s normal to me. I don’t care, this is what works for me and I’m going to keep doing it until something else works better. Do you think President Obama should stay in office, or is it time for a new president? >> Damn, bruh. In general, do you like/get along with your mother’s or your father’s side of the family more? >> --- Have you ever seen an animal give birth? Have you ever had a pet give birth before? >> Yeah, and not my pet but my friend’s pet. I’ve also seen a cat eat its kittens! It was very enthralling. What do your plans usually consist of on Christmas morning? Are they the same this year? >> These past two Christmases I was at Sparrow’s parents’ house, and I guess the first time it was novel and exciting, but the second time I was way over the performative-ness and those people and just... blaaagh. But I assume I’ll be doing the same thing this year, probably day-drinking and trying not to talk to anyone. Do you like iPads/tablets or laptops more? E-readers or books? >> I mean, I use my laptops almost exclusively. And when it comes to books, I really don’t give a damn, man. I use both at my leisure. If you don’t get much snow where you live, do you wish you did get more snow? If you do get snow where you live, do you get a lot? Do you like snow? >> Enough snow falls in West Michigan that I am usually quite sick of it by March or so. Also, winter has a habit of outstaying its welcome to a depressing degree, so by May I want to die. LMAO. --In general, yeah, I like snow, but like... moderation, man. If men could get pregnant too, would abortion still be as big an issue as it is? >> Hm. What is something you want to try to accomplish within the next year? >> I’m not sure. Have you ever had to “come out” to your parents about anything (sexual orientation, change in religion, etc.)? How did it go? >> I tried to explain being trans to my father once, lmao. It was actually pretty funny, because I was like, explaining hormone replacement therapy to him, and he was just like “.... hunh.” Like I think he was mostly just confused, lmao. But I mean, in general, I’m an adult. I don’t have to tell him anything about my life if I don’t want to, so it’s not a big deal. Do you ever get drunk by yourself? >> Yeah. Who else am I supposed to get drunk with, besides the people in my head? But I’m mostly over getting drunk, anyway. I mostly just drink until the light buzz now, and then stop there. I’m still thinking about whether getting ritualistically drunk (with Wednesday, for example) is a thing I want to continue... I’m not sure yet. I think if I do, it’ll only be with specific drinks (like maybe this 1000 Stories wine, which I still think he put into my hand in the first place), to further emphasise the ritual boundaries and also to control it a little (liquor is temperamental and the delayed release doesn’t help either, but wine is easier to control). Has there ever been a time where you’ve forgotten something extremely important? >> I mean, yeah, sure. Describe the last time you were infuriated. >> Infuriated... I feel like the last time I felt that way was because of some bullshit in the PixelCount Discord. That’s why I left that shit, I got tired. What’s the most unusual kind of pizza you’ve ever tried? >> I’m not sure. If you were given the chance to decorate an entire house the way you wanted, with no limit to cost, how would you decorate it? >> I’d need some time to think about that. If you could have any kind of lava lamp, what kind would you have? >> Any kind? I’ve never had one at all. What movie do you know by heart? >> I used to know Labyrinth pretty much backwards and forwards, but my last rewatch was a long while ago. I need to get back on that train. I know the songs of The Prince of Egypt pretty well, and some of the dialogue. I used to be good with The Crow but it’s been a long time for that one, too. Has there ever been a time where you thought you were going to be great friends with someone, but it just never happened? >> I don’t think so. What’s one of your favorite things to touch/feel? >> Certain kinds of stuffed animal fur. How often do you wear tights? >> I don’t. If you had to choose, what’s the most important thing in your life at the moment? >> I don’t like to rank things like this. Do you have Netflix? >> I do. How much money would you have to spend before you felt really guilty about spending that much? >> Hell, I feel guilty about spending $2 at Redbox (”but I can just wait until it’s on Netflix, or pirate it!!! this is a Waste” shut the fuck up, goblin brain, life is short). Has there ever been anything you’ve become interested in much later than other people? >> Yeah, lmao. I’m kinda slow sometimes. Why is your favorite TV show your favorite? >> LOL I keep forgetting to mention Metalocalypse as a favourite, too, but man, my feels about that show are legion. I love it because it’s hilarious, but also because I really actually care about this silly fucking death metal band and their longsuffering manager and the Doomstar that will herald their ascension and... just everything. I love that show so fucking much and I miss it every day of my life. Grey’s Anatomy is my favourite because it really hits me in the feels, like... I don’t cry about a lot of things but I’ve cried at half the Grey’s episodes I’ve seen. It just really does humanity well... like, it has some of the most honest and compassionate writing that I’ve ever seen. It’s an utterly amazing and heartfelt and joyful and sorrowful show and I’m so glad I started watching it. Person of Interest is my favourite because... wow. Again, amazing writing, just amazing. Such complex and emotional characters, and the whole Machine thing is just... right up my alley, man. An artificial superintelligence learning to truly appreciate humanity for what it is, like... I don’t know. I don’t know. It hits me right in the gut. I still get choked up about the ending of that show. God. Describe your favorite picture of yourself, or post it. >> I don’t have a single favourite photo. Is there a genre of music that some people would be surprised that you enjoy? >> Probably not, if they know anything about me. Assuming you have a Facebook, if one of your friends posted things that annoyed you, would you be more likely to delete them as a friend, hide their statuses, or just put up with it? >> I’d hide their statuses for a while, but if it got so I was never looking at their page, I’d just unfriend them. What’s the point, then? Have you ever had a veggie burger? >> Of course. Do you like candles? >> Yep. What’s your favorite video game? >> Pillars of Eternity, Dragon Age, Elder Scrolls, Guitar Hero, the list goes on. What was something you liked about today? >> Fuckin H O T GATORADE, god. fucking... god. LMFAO. When was the last time you passed out? >> I don’t know. Do you think “friends with benefits” relationships could ever possibly work without anyone getting hurt? >> I’m sure someone’s gotten it to work. Like, it’s a big world out there. Do you wear more sweatshirts or jackets? >> Hoodies. What was the last thing you had to drink? >> I had like half a Backwoods Bastard. I didn’t even finish it, it’s still on my desk. When was the last time you wore a sports bra? >> The last time I went out. When was the last time you went to a water park? >> Never. Does your best friend live close to you? >> --- Have you ever rode a train? >> I’ve ridden many a train. Where did you get the shirt you’re currently wearing? >> I’m just wearing an undershirt. This Night Vale hoodie used to be Sparrow’s. When was the last time you played Rock Band? With whom? >> It’s been a while. I usually play Guitar Hero because the guitar controller is more compatible with it. There’s a slight difference in how shit registers on Rock Band that messes me up a lot, and I haven’t felt like dealing with it. But I miss the RB songs, so I might try to make it work at some point. Maybe I just need to calibrate my shit. What was the last thing that you ate? >> A pack of those Captain’s Wafers crackers. The peanut butter and honey ones, the best kind!!!! I’m so glad I finally found a Meijer that sells the boxes, goddamn, finally. Who last messaged you on Facebook? >> Uh... probably my cousin Kythe, with another fucking chain IM thing. I’m about to block her ass, lmfao. What were you doing Saturday at 1:30 pm? >> I don’t remember. The last time you were intoxicated, what were you drinking? >> Mango-pineapple vodka and orange juice. It’s so delicious, too, and that’s the fucking problem -- I drink it because it tastes good, and next thing you know... Who last walked you home? >> --- What do you do to help your face from breaking out? >> Wash it. It takes care of the rest on its own. Did you make any new friends lately? If so, what are their names and how did you meet them? >> --- Would you rather see your favourite band/artist in concert with 2 other people or have a free $20,000 shopping spree to Walmart? >> What on earth am I going to buy at Walmart for that much money, lmao... I’d rather spend that kind of money somewhere else, so I guess I’d take the concert. I’d choose a band that doesn’t come to the US often. >:3 When was the last time you went out to eat? >> When I was in Chicago. On a scale of 1-10, how anxious are you currently? >> Er... 1? What kind of music do you listen to? >> The audible kind. What does your perfect day consist of? >> Meh. Do you have any online friends? >> Whatever friends I do have are online. Would you dye your hair red? >> Sure. If your ex wanted to take you back, would you say yes? >> I mean, that’s basically what happened innit lmao :B How is the weather? >> I don’t know, mild, I guess.  

[imagine-loki]

Hail to the King

TITLE: Hail to the King CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Ch. 1- Children Will Be Children AUTHOR: artemisnightingale216 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Thor and Loki have a younger sister, Astrid, who was not much younger than Loki. Growing up, she was always very close to both her brothers, acting as a catalyst that kept them together even through tough times, though she typically stayed close to Loki’s side. Though it went against Frigga’s wishes, she even trained alongside them and raised as a warrior as well as a lady… RATING: M for Mature and Adult Themes NOTES/WARNINGS: Super duper happy with the feedback in such a short amount of time once again! Thank you to all of you that read it! Much appreciated! If you did not have the chance to read the Prologue to Hail to the King, I will be putting that link down below. Now, once again, as it is based off a Marvel movie, there will be violence; I don’t intend to put in much in this chapter as I plan to gradually build us up from the children’s childhoods all the way up to the first Thor and then on because I find it a bit unfair that we see very little about their lives before then aside from a few short scenes. Plus, we do need a bit of background on my OC. So, let us begin!

EDIT: Sorry this took so long! I got started on it and then busy with everything else that could go wrong in my life. Anyway, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Link to Prologue

Song for the Chapter- Under One Sky by The Tenors

“Buona. Ora preparatevi. Il rituale è pronto per iniziare.”

The three of them circled around Unna and raised their hands palms up so they were facing the sky. She did not know what they had planned, but she knew it would not end well for her or her child.

“I think it best if we end our story there, my lieges,” a man said, his body clad in a great suite of gold and dark red armor with a sword nearly as big as he was clasped between his hands, the blade of said sword inserted deep in a raised dais, his dark skin a contrast to his golden armor and eyes; a helm sat atop his head, looking very much like a giant bird caught in mid-flight. The dais sat in the center of a high ceilinged dome, its interior and exterior matching his attire, an ever spinning spire circling around its top and appearing every few minutes in front of and behind him in the openings, one leading out to a dead drop and the other leading to the bridge outside. His voice, deep and soothing, sounded strange now that he was not speaking in a foreign tongue.

“What? No! It was just getting good! Do not leave it there!” a young boy, round in the face and a bit chubby, pleaded from where he sat on the steps leading down into the dome. He was small in comparison to the might of the man on the dais, but he still had time to grow. Instead of armor, he donned a simple light blue tunic, dark blue and red up the front vest with a red belt around his thin waist, and dark blue pants with the legs tucked into his brown boots. Brown cuff like bracelets were tied to his wrists and red fabric had been added to his boots to look like lacing.

“Forgive my impertinence, but I do not think it wise to tell the remainder to children so young. Perhaps when you are all older, we can revisit this story again,” the man clad in gold and dark red smiled slightly, the action partially hidden by his neatly trimmed beard.

“Then what was the point in starting it, Heimdall?” the young boy asked, his bright blue eyes conveying disappointment as he placed his chin in his palm and his elbow on his knee.

“You asked for a story, my prince, and I did not think you would appreciate one about happy forest elves. Besides, there are no real endings. There are only the places where you stop the story,” Heimdall chuckled lightly. “On top of that, your sister does not seem as fond of the story as you do.”

The young blue eyed boy looked behind him to the small child in a short sleeved white dress, the hem trailing to the floor, that was simple but fit for royalty, her long platinum blonde almost white hair pulled back from her face to half divide the shoulder length strands in a braid. She clung to the sleeve of his tunic and only one of her ice blue eyes, slightly wide with fear, were visible from behind his body where she hid. “She can handle it. Go on, Astrid. Tell him you can handle it.” He tried to coax her out from behind him on the steps, but she only tried to hide herself further.

“Let her be, Thor,” the dark haired boy sitting next to the blue eyed lad said in aggravation at his brothers insistent coaxing. His attire was very similar to that of Thor’s, but where his older wore blue and red, he wore grey and green. “If she does not want to hear the rest of the story, do not make her.”

“What troubles you, Loki? Too frightened to hear the rest yourself so you use a little girl as a shield?” Thor taunted, turning away from Astrid to shove at Loki’s shoulder. Loki nearly fell from the steps due to the force of the playful shove but righted himself before he could; his dark green eyes shown in low the low light of the dome, anger blazing in his irises as he was about to retort when Thor’s neatly trimmed and once formally styled blonde hair was suddenly pulled with such force that it drew his head back. “Ow! Astrid, you traitor!”

Astrid giggled happily as she leapt from her seat on the steps and darted away from Thor as he turned to grab her. She was past Loki, down the stairs, and around the perimeter of the dome by the time Thor stood to give chase. She was tiny compared to her brothers, especially to Loki who had a good inch or two over Thor, but she found she could be quick if she tried hard enough. She giggled again as Thor ran after her and she ran as well, trying to look for a place to hide as she went but quickly finding that there were very limited options. There was Heimdall, his great height and build sure to hide her tiny body, but surely her brother would see her. Then there was Loki, tall enough to hide her height but too slender even with her small frame. It seemed her only hope was to make it across the Rainbow Bridge before he could catch her, but that was a long shot even with speed on her side, the bridge much too extensive for a child. Even some of the warriors had to ride on horseback just to make it quickly across the great distance.

Astrid was nearing the steps to the entrance and decided to throw caution to the wind. She gracefully leaped over the steps, her dress flowing behind her as she did, and easily landed on the flat surface of the polished marble. Loki was clearly in awe of her display and cheered her on as she passed him while Heimdall smirked and remained standing on the dais with his hands ever on the hilt of his great golden sword.

“Come back and face me, you coward!” Thor called after her as he shook his fist and bounded up the stairs. Loki pulled a mischievous smile as he stuck his foot out and tripped him. Thor fell face first onto the polished floor, leaving a large spot of saliva where his lips made contact. Loki laughed and jumped up to follow after Astrid as their brother wiped the spittle from his face. “You will come to regret that, brother! Just wait until I get my hands on you both!” He jumped back up and rushed after both his younger siblings.

“And that is why I am forever grateful to my mother for not having more than one child,” Heimdall laughed to himself, glad the rambunctious young ones had found a distraction and forgotten the dark tale he had weaved for them.

“Face your fates, milksops! Prepare to feel the wrath of the future king of Asgard!” Thor yelled after them as they raced down the Rainbow Bridge, the bridge lighting up beneath where their feet connected with it.

The Rainbow Bridge, named for the bright colors embedded in the very material it was made from, was designed after a suspension bridge and was as old as Asgard itself. The bridge was hung high above an ever flowing sea so clear one could look down and see nearly see the bottom, the water eventually dropping off into the remaining other realms in the form of a magnificent waterfall; sometimes the sea was calm, but other times it was a tempest that most dared not venture into. At one end were the gates to Asgard, the realm eternal, a prosperous glittering city of gold surrounded by the sea and lush greenery. On the other was the dome, more commonly known as the entrance to the Bifrost, in which Heimdall stood on his dais; the Bifrost acted as a link from Asgard to the other realms and Heimdall its keeper, no one as of late getting in or out without his knowledge. Heimdall had watched over Asgard and the other realms for as long as anyone could remember, a puzzle no one had yet thought to solve.

Loki laughed humorously as he leapt onto one of pillars connected to the support beams that held up the bridge and used his momentum to swing himself around so he was facing Thor, his hand wrapped around the thin pillar and his foot braced against it to keep himself from slipping, Astrid having to stop and turn back when she realized he was no longer at her side. “In your wildest dreams, brother! I will be king of Asgard!”

Thor laughed boisterously in return and leapt onto the pillar as well, standing so he was on the opposite side as Loki. “I do not need to dream of reality! One day I shall sit where Father does and command the Nine Realms as I see fit!”

The two always seemed to argue when the throne of Asgard was concerned, but it was all just friendly banter. They were too young to truly understand the weight of what it meant to be king, but even so both Thor and Loki found themselves in competition for it. Being the two sons in the family, that meant one day one of them would be chosen and given the crown. The only question that remained on their minds, however, was which one it would be as their father had repeatedly told them both they were destined to be kings but only one of them could rule. It seemed unfair to Astrid, but she would likely either be married off to the prince of another realm and become a queen herself or wed to a high standing member of the court, as were traditions in their realm.

Loki smirked at Thor. “We shall see.”

“Astrid, do tell our ill-minded brother who will be king when the time comes. Me,” Thor pointed to himself, “or him,” he gestured toward Loki.

“Oh, yes, dear sister. Please do,” Loki nodded. “Tell our feeble-minded sibling whom will be king.”

Astrid looked back and forth between her two brothers with heavy thoughts burdening her expression. As far as her developing mind could discern, they might has well have asked her to decide then and there who was getting the crown rather than their father. On the one hand, there was Thor, the eldest son and already gifted in the arts of combat. On the other was Loki, though smaller in size but not height, he instead excelled when it came to the academics but was still a worthy foe when it came to battle. Both had much to learn for either of them to become king, however.

“Why did we bother asking her? She is not even old enough to sit at the table with us when we eat. How can she even know which of us to pick?” Thor rolled his eyes when it took too long for her to answer. Astrid looked down in guilt; she really had tried, but she knew no matter who she chose it would only hurt the other one’s feelings.

“Would you at least give her time? Not everything needs to happen when you say it does,” Loki glared at Thor. Astrid smiled, feeling a bit better knowing that at least one of her brothers did not find her inadequate.

“It will when I am king,” Thor smirked. Astrid and Loki rolled their eyes; it was like talking to a brick wall when he was around. Astrid looked out over the unconfined sea and onto the horizon where the sun shone brightly high in the sky, sending its warm rays down before it began its slow descent. She easily judged the time and rushed over to Thor. She tugged on his pant leg as he and Loki continued their little spat from where they still stood on the pillar.

“Honestly, Thor, must you be so thickheaded? How can you ever hope to rule when you fail to see reason,” Loki was saying as he turned around on the pillar so he was facing back toward the dome.

“One hardly needs reason to rule. Ruling means having an iron fist so the other realms will learn to fear you and a strong will to avoid temptation,” Thor scoffed in reply as he shoved at Loki and tried to swat Astrid off of him as she started patting at his leg hurriedly.

Loki righted himself before he could fall from the pillar and possibly the bridge. “If that were the case, then surely you would fail.”

“Say what you will, but it only makes sense for me to be king because-.” Thor looked down at Astrid in question as her tugs became more desperate. “What?” She pointed toward the sky and he followed her direction, squinting at the giant ball of fire and seeing spots before his vision when he looked back. “What? It is just the sun.” She jumped up and down, waving her arm in urgent motions. “Out with it, girl! What are you on about?” She grunted in annoyance and stomped her feet. “It appears our sister has gone mad.”

Loki raised his own brow in question at his younger sisters display before looking up at the sky to see what the commotion was about. He gasped. “It is already mid-day! We will be late for the family portrait if we do not hurry!”

“And Mother is still sore with us for missing the last one! Who knows what she will do this time?” Thor said worriedly as he rubbed his knuckles at the memory of their previous punishment. “Hurry! Back to the castle!” He jumped down from the pillar and resumed running across the bridge, Astrid and Loki following close behind. “Good thing I remembered the portrait, right?”

Astrid growled in agitation while Loki shook his head. It was a habit of Thors to take other people’s ideas and act like they were his own. It was a habit they hoped he would one day break and some day soon. Their father claimed it was a worthy trait of a ruler, the ability to take an idea for oneself, but their mother called it the mark of narcissist. The poor children were horribly confused and not sure what to call it at that point, but of course Thor was quick to agree with their father.

“Worry not, sister. We will get him back,” Loki said quietly to Astrid. She tilted her head at him. “Just leave it to me.” He winked and smiled playfully at her, making her giggle.

“If you two are done acting like infant girls, I am going to beat you both to our horses!” Thor called out behind over his shoulder. “I will even beat you with one arm behind my back!”

“Running does not even require both arms!” Loki called ahead just before he and Astrid passed him.

“Hey, no fair! Come back!” Thor pouted.

Astrid laughed in delight as she kept pace with Loki, her long braided hair thumping against her back while his once sleek style coming out of place. Her long dress should have gotten in the way, but she had mastered moving quickly in the flowing garbs. He had a slight advantage over her in pants and boots, but even that did not give him the upper hand. He found himself evenly matched with her speed if not slightly behind.

“Come on, Astrid! You need to do better than that! I am going to win!” Loki smiled, his long but thin legs pumping with ferocity. Astrid humphed in reply before working her tiny little legs and feet faster as she pumped her arms in time, her back straightening so it was horizontal with the ground; she had seen the great warriors do the same during tournaments and had been practicing ever since. “Huh?” He was surprised to see her leave his peripheral vision and instead shoot forward with great momentum. “How did you even do that?” She expected him to pout like Thor had, but instead she heard him call out, “Go, Astrid! Go!” She looked back and realized why.

Thor was coming up fast beside Loki, huffing and puffing and pumping his limbs faster than either of them thought possible. His face was turning red from the exertion and his eye were wide in their sockets from the strain he was putting on himself. Any hope he once had of keeping his hair neat for the portrait was long gone by now as it whipped about his face and behind him. “I… am… going… to… catch… you!” Even his voice sounded hoarse and strained.

“Come on, Astrid! You can do it!” Loki called as Thor passed him. “Run, Astrid! Run harder than you ever have before!” Astrid smiled back at him and nodded before facing forward again.

“Do not… root for… the girl!” Thor nearly wheezed. Astrid could hear him just behind her now, his boots heavy against the glass like material that made up the floor of the bridge, the lights sparking beneath their feet barely able to keep up with their quick strides. “Here I come! You are going to… lose! Prepare to taste defeat!” She could hear his laughter despite his strained breathing and decided she had had enough. “Victory is mine!”

Astrid smirked as she saw Thor step into sight just before she leaned forward and was no long by his side. Thor looked around in shock, thinking for just a second that he had actually passed her, until he looked forward and saw her standing by the horses, her hand gripping the saddle as she tried to catch her breath. “What!?” he shouted in exasperation as he too reached the specially bred animals.

“Ha! You were beaten! And by our little sister, too!” Loki laughed as he joined them.

Thor’s face turned even redder than before. “Yeah… well… So were you!”

“This fact does not hurt my ego,” Loki continued to laugh, having to hold his side. “Good job, Astrid. You made Thor eat your dust!” Astrid smiled at the praise and hummed in happiness.

Thor clicked his tongue. “She just got lucky, is all. Plus, the sun was in my eyes!”

“Uh-huh. Sure it was,” Loki rolled his eyes with a smile. “Oh no! The sun! We really will be late now if we do not hurry!” Astrid and Thor looked worried now. “Hurry! We have to get back to the castle before Mother finds out!” They rushed up to their designated horse and mounted it with haste.

Each child rode a horse that fairly matched their own physical appearances with harnesses and saddles that went with their attire. Thor, of course, rode a golden stallion with a stark white mane and tail; the only problem was that the horse was as chubby as its rider and the combined weight of the two slowed them down fairly often. Loki’s own horse was a cross breed between a friesian and a hackney, the end result being a colt that looked rather skinny and frail, with a coat, mane, and tail that was just as black as the child on its back. The foal for Astrid, however, was a hard one to find as she was so small; rather than a horse that matched her, she had to settle with the foal of a welsh pony or be forced to ride with her mother on outings because it was the only type the queen would agree to. It had upset Astrid, of course, to be given such a smaller riding companion, but a pony was better than nothing and she kept her tongue.

Thor shouted, “Yah!” to his his stallion and off it went running. Loki gave his two gentle kicks to the side and he followed after. Astrid simply clicked her tongue and the pony trotted along; unlike her rider, the small animal wasn’t very fast, though it did try to keep up with the two larger foals. Thor and Loki had to keep stopping there horse when they saw how far behind the two were and wait for them only to have to do so again not too long after.

“Can you not make that pipsqueak go any faster? Mother is going to wring our necks as it is,” Thor groaned after the fifth time his sister caught up. Astrid looked down in guilt and he felt a stab of remorse. “Well, we at least need to find a way back home faster. One that will at least not get us into as much trouble.”

The three children thought long and hard, but it was Loki who quickly came up with a quick and easy plan. “I know a way.” Thor and Astrid looked happy, but after having followed him to this quick route, they realized their mistake. His way had them galloping straight through the city square, which was bustling with people walking to and fro around the market to do their shopping for their masters and families. There was little harm a pony could do; the little filly simply avoided the carts and stands or ducked under them. The colts had no idea what to do around so many foreign objects and various amounts of people, so they stumbled about like newborns and would run off again when they knocked something over.

“This was a terrible idea!” Thor called over the shrieking commoners and his horse neighing in protest.

“I think it was a perfect idea!” Loki said in merriment as his colt somehow managed to jump over some crates of vegetables and keep running.

“Why did we ever listen to you?” Thor wondered. He nearly fell from his foal when it had to side step around a woman carrying a large basket, but he was able to right himself by wrapping his arms around its neck and holding on tightly.

“Because my ideas do not end in disaster like yours do,” Loki laughed as Thor came up beside him. Astrid tried to get their attention, but they were unable to see her in time before they went crashing into a stall.

Frigga stood before her three children with a look of irritation on her face, her foot tapping against the floor as she stared them down. She had hardly asked much of them; it was simple enough for children to keep themselves clean for one afternoon and show up in time to meet with the painter so they could have a new family portrait taken. It seemed, however, that her children were against keeping out of trouble.

She had been pacing in the small room they had designated for the portrait, trying her best to wait patiently, but it was past time the children were due to arrive and the servants were having no luck finding them in the palace. She knew they had snuck off even after she asked them not to, but she understood the curiosity of a child and had decided to allow them a bit of time to be late. The more time passed, however, the more her patience ran thin. Her husband had already had to excuse himself to attend his duties and would likely not return even if she asked for him, so there was no hope of him being with them for it. There was only so long she could keep the painter there; it was for the royal family, so they were top priority, but even he had other things to do than wait around and do nothing.

Worry had just started to set in when there was a knock at the door and a guard walked in. She immediately feared the worst until he stepped aside and she saw them standing in the doorway. Her relief was quickly replaced with shock when she saw the state they were and then switched to her current emotion when the guard explained what they had been doing before being dismissed.

After crashing into a stall, Thor and Loki had fallen into a chicken coop and landed in a puddle of mud. They were now covered in the brown filth and feathers were stuck all over their bodies, like someone had tried to turn them into birds. Perhaps it was best Odin had left the room, otherwise he would already be yelling at them, but only be halfway through. Astrid had somehow managed to make it out of the ordeal without a speck of dirt on her; the only blemish she had was windblown hair, but she wasn’t helping the situation by picking feathers off her brothers and blowing them into the air to see how far she could make them fly.

Frigga sighed and asked, “Well, do we have anything to say for ourselves?”

Loki and Thor glanced at each other before the later of the two shrugged and said with a trying smile, “You look lovely today, Mother?”

It was certainly not a lie. Their mother did look lovely, but then again, she always did.

Frigga was a tall, statuesque woman with an hourglass figure, her hips wider than her chest. She had once been thin, but raising three children could make anyone gain a bit of weight; she had still managed to keep most of her figure, though. Her hair, a dark golden color, was long enough that it fell well past her ribs and took her handmaidens a great deal of time to style it. For that occasion, they had given her a thick ring of curls, parted to the left, that thickened as it came around to meet at the back of her head while the rest had been left straight and placed over her right shoulder. She wore a long sleeved slightly off the shoulder dress that touched the floor, the color a beautiful light silver, with the front half split down the middle to reveal the layer underneath and flow behind her like a cap. Four strands of jewels had been sown onto the bands around her shoulders and her earrings were a shimmering topaz that matched her hair. Her eyes were a stunning hazel that shown stern but gentle in the light.

Frigga hardly seemed impressed by the complement. “Anything else?”

Loki and Thor sighed. “We are sorry, Mother.”

Frigga looked at them a moment before their guilt ridden expressions got to her and made her sigh as well. “I suppose I cannot really blame you for trying to make it here on time, even if you did break the rules about taking your horses into the city.” She dismissed the painter and told him she would be in contact to reschedule once again. “Just promise me it will not happen again and we can forget this happened for now.”

All three of them nodded before Loki asked, “Are you going to tell Father?”

“Well, that would hardly be forgetting about it, would it not?” Frigga raised a brow, smiling as they had a quiet celebration. “Now, you two go and get that mud off you. You have your training exercises starting shortly.”

“Thank you, Mother!” Thor and Loki smiled as they turned and ran out the door.

Astrid tried to follow after them, but Frigga quickly picked her up and held her in her arms. “Not you, young lady. There is a different set of exercises you will be doing.”

“Why?” Astrid asked as she was carried out of the room.

“Because ladies of the court do not engage in activities involving weapons, dear,” Frigga explained.

“Why?” Astrid asked again.

“Because weapons are not a tool a lady should use,” Frigga went on.

“Why?”

“Astrid, darling,” Frigga sighed as they entered one of the smaller libraries in the castle and she set her daughter down in a chair at the table, kneeling so she could face her better, “I know you love to spend time with your brothers, but there are things men do and things that women do. Men protect the homes and go off to war. Women study, learn, and take care of the children.” She made a sour face. “I know it may not seem fair now, but one day you will understand. Women are simply not meant to fight.”

“Then maybe I do not want to be a woman,” Astrid crossed her arms stubbornly.

“Alright. Well, until the day you are fully grown, you are still considered a child, so you still have to do as I say,” Frigga said just as stubbornly before standing and walking over to a bookshelf. “One day you will thank me for this.”

“I will take your word for it,” Astrid grumbled under her breath as her mother came back and placed a stack of books in front of her.

“Now, you are not to leave this table until each book has been read. I will be back to check on you later,” Frigga said sternly as she turned to leave. She looked back to see her daughter regarding the books with a look of boredom. “Study, Astrid.”

Doing as she was told, Astrid sighed and took the first book from the stack. The books were hardly thick; they were were no bigger than the width of two of her fingers, but to a child, it was like her mother expected her to read the entire library. It was rather boring, at first, reading a book on the history of the realms, but the more she read the more she wanted to know. It was interesting to learn how reacted to a situation compared to another, how they held court, or how some had no court at all. In some realms, they were ruled not by monarchs, but on justice and diplomacy alone. There were even realms that had no armies, believing that some matters were best handled with peace and understanding.

It felt as if barely any time had passed before she was done and on to the next book. Its pages were filled with texts on proper etiquette, dining, and dance. She was sure she would be bored of that quickly, but found it interesting that it was considered rude to refuse mead, yet one should drink it in moderation, and at a formal dance, the host and his children have the first choice of dance partners. The pictures of the dance moves and the words describing how they were executed had her performing the steps with a smile on her face.

Then came a book about the creatures that roamed the lands of Asgard. Trolls, wargs, and arvaks were things she was familiar with, but there were some that sent chills down her spine. Draugr were beings said to have come back from the dead while still in their grave; they mostly just protected any treasure that was buried with their corpses and could die once again after decaying, being burned, or otherwise destroyed, but she had no intention of crossing paths with one anytime soon. The Nökken was a being who could change his shape and would use his ability to lure people into the water and drown them; he also had a nasty habit of peering his eyes out of the water and watching people as they passed by. It was creature that typically lived in freshwater, and she made sure to make a mental note to keep a sharp eye out for peering eyes the next time they visited the lake. The Mara appeared as a skinny young woman, dressed in a nightgown, with pale skin and long black hair and nails. As sand they could slip through the slightest crack in the wood of a wall and terrorize the sleeping by “riding” on their chest, thus giving them nightmares; they would sometimes ride cattle that, when touched by the Mara, would have their hair or fur tangled and energy drained, while trees would curl up and wilt. She tried not to dwell on that book for too long.

Astrid began to realize that her mother had been right. Before long, she had finished the stack and was already moving on to new ones. She scanned shelf after shelf, trying to find any book she might enjoy that she could get her hands on.

When Frigga returned some hours later with one of her handmaidens trailing behind her, they found the table piled with books but her daughter gone. “Astrid?” she called in worry when she looked around the room and still could not see her.

“I am over here, Mother,” Astrid called back.

Frigga felt immediate relief as she walked behind one of the shelves to find Astrid wedges between it and another, even more books surrounding her as her eyes scanned quickly but deftly over the pages. “And what do we have here?”

“I found a book on stars, Mother. Did you know that there was once one so big, that it imploded on itself after only a few hundred years after its creation and took three other stars with it?” Astrid asked as she spoke but kept her eyes on the words.

“I did not,” Frigga shook her head with a slight smile. “I see someone found a new passion today.”

“Perhaps,” Astrid shrugged, not wanting to outright admit that her mother was right.

“Enough reading for today, darling. It is time for supper,” Frigga gestured toward the door with her hand.

Astrid looked up sadly. “But I have not finished yet.”

“You can come back tomorrow, if you like,” Frigga suggested. “You will be able to read as much as you want then.” Astrid smiled and nodded as she closed her book and placed it on the floor before running up to her mother’s waiting hand. She instructed her handmaiden to replace the scattered reading material in its proper place and led the young child toward the mess hall, grateful she had found something to distract her from the idea of learning how to fight, unaware that there were in fact book on martial arts in the library.

[einstein-robin-hood-blog]

Untold Tales of the Proletariat, No. 4 - Renaissance Country Club, Dramatis Personae, Part 1

Call me Ishmael, for I now embark on a stormy sea of words: a series of Untold Tales about the Renaissance Country Club, may its memory be a blessing and where all my changes were. See, Neil Young, Helpless, 1970. This post is about the club itself and the scoundrels, ne’er-do-wells, and drug fiends who called it home. 

Frank the Owner

Frank was the owner. Not sure if he had partners or owned the whole thing himself, but who cares? We didn’t see much of him. His office was in the front and we were in the back. Occasionally he’d come in the back looking for Bimbo, and tell me to pick up a piece of trash on the floor. Managing by walking around and talking to people, as it later came to be known. He also PERSONALLY handed out the Christmas bonuses. 

Frank owned a Cord, which was a Fancy Ass Car that Gram Parsons wrote a song about. See, The New Soft Shoe, 1973. Parked in a garage right outside the kitchen. We’d often see him take it out for a spin. Say what you will about Frank, he has some serious class. And enough cash to burn a wet mule. 

1936 Cord 810 Phaeton. This is a pic of Frank’s ACTUAL car. Sold by a subsequent owner in 2016 for $154,000. I once licked the bumper.

Jerry and Joe

Jerry Bimbo was the maitre d’hotel (MASTER OF HOUSE). I have refrained from using real names in these Untold Tales, but can’t help it here. Given all the hijinks and pranks that the veterans played on the newbies, it took me a long time to realize that no one was playing a joke on me when they’d say “Go talk to Bimbo” and that this fellow’s name was actually “Bimbo.” Blue velvet tux with extremely frilly shirt. Porn star mustache. Eventually changed his name to Beretta. Jerry Beretta, that is, not Beretta Bimbo. Decent guy, treated us pretty well when he wasn’t yelling at us about something.

Joe C was the catering manager and he worked hand in hand with Jerry, making sure the food was ready when it was supposed to be, and that the Cro-Magnons in the back didn’t poison anyone. Similar to Jerry, nice enough when he wasn’t yelling. Random memory of him going on about how much he liked watercress on a sandwich. Amazing what one remembers, 50 years later. 

Joe Banks

After Sonny met his doom, Joe was in charge of the kitchen until Big Bob came along. Joe was a Williston Park homie a couple of years older than us, so we all knew him.

I loved working for Joe, and he loved me working for him. It was my first real job, and I was ready to work hard, and that made Joe happy. He’d give me something to do (150 deviled eggs, sure; 100 stuffed mushrooms, got it; Chicken Cordon Blue, what is it? OK, I can do that. ). I barely knew what those things were, but he’d explain them to me, and off I’d go. You learn a lot by doing and working at it until it tastes good. And this was a fancy-ass North Shore joint!  With a pimply-face, snot-nosed kid (ME) preparing these exquisite delicacies (MUCH, MUCH, TOO MUCH MORE ABOUT THIS IN FUTURE INSTALLMENTS). It was here I got hooked on the kitchen adrenaline of cranking it out. See, Anthony Bourdain, Kitchen Confidential, 2000. Beano no doubt knows of what I speak. 

I have a VERY VIVID memory of Joe making some kind of bet with Head Altar Boy Jimmy (HABJ), who was the hors d’oeuvre cook at the time. I don’t recall the subject or the terms other than that Joe said HABJ could chop off his dick if he was wrong. After a fact-finding mission, HABJ gleefully reported, with a large cleaver in his fist, that he was right and that Joe was wrong. The cleaver was of a size that could have been used by Fred Flintstone to shatter boulders. 

Joe, a Man of Honor, complied and bravely met his fate. As a crowd gathered to witness the reckoning, Joe unzipped and laid his member on the large butcher block table (NOT A HEALTH CODE VIOLATION - I CHECKED). HABJ raised the cleaver high, and as it sped downwards towards a new life for Joe, there was a collective intake of breath that would have impressed the most advanced yoga teacher. Joe withdrew Little Joe at what seemed like the impossible last minute. There may have been a slight loss of hair, but Joe wasn’t saying.

Joe went on to accomplish great things in the restaurant business. Had a nice place of his own in the Hamptons, and became a pillar of the community. Sadly, he died in a small plane crash just a few years back. So let me say, with all love and sincerity, may his memory be a blessing.

MY ONE GREAT REGRET IN LIFE

When I couldn’t find a date for the prom, Joe suggested that I take Linda. “Who’s Linda?” I asked. “She’s my wife,” Joe responded, in all sincerity. She never got to go to her prom, and was apparently willing. Sadly, I declined the offer, in hopes of meeting someone who was, shall we say, more available. Meeting that person was still a few years off. So I blew my chance to take Linda to the prom and, when my classmates asked who she was, I could have told them: “She’s my boss’s wife.”

Big Bob

As great as Joe was, Big Bob was the worst. Or, to be charitable, he was the least great. He was big and built and liked to boast about how tough he was. Lots of yelling. He didn’t drink coffee, he drank tea, with like eight tea bags in his stupid New York Giants mug (Jets fan here.) We coffee drinkers (I was on the bean by then. Started out with coffee milkshakes and quickly moved onto straight java. More about this later.) saw this as a character flaw, but never said anything. Did I mention the yelling? It was kind of like this, except in a kitchen, not a barracks:

But, in Big Bob’s defense, he didn’t freak out when I broke his fancy-ass knife. I was chopping some onions with his knife. BIG BOB’S KNIFE, DON’T MESS WITH BIG BOB’S KNIFE. He was letting me use it while we were in the middle of some stupid argument. I was stupid and he didn’t know why I didn’t just shut up because I wasjustsomepunkkidwhoknewnothingsojustshutupbeforeIcrippleyou. 

As I was contemplating my response - something along the lines of “I’m doing the best I can and why don’t YOU shut up”-  Big Bob’s knife broke. Snapped clean in half. Total loss. I wasn’t even honking on it, and Big Bob was right in front of me, so he couldn’t accuse me of goofing around with it. So, as I was fearing for my life, he took the knife and threw it in the trash. “It happens,” he said. End of story. One point for Big Bob.

On the other hand, he did saw my frisbee in half. Not to be judgmental, but Big Bob should burn for all eternity in the Bad Place for what he did. Some background: we worked hard in a really hot kitchen and dishwashing room. When we had some downtime, we’d go out into the parking lot and throw the disc around. Maybe five or ten minutes of fresh air. On the day in question, Big Bob came out to join us. Cool! Oh wait, he’s taking the frisbee inside. I guess this is his way of telling us break is over. Oh, he’s taking it over to the band saw, to pretend to cut it in half. Funny. Oh, he’s actually cutting it in half. Bummer. Let’s dig Dante up and have him write a new circle of hell for this indignity.

I suppose I had some small measure of revenge. We got paid on Thursdays. I was scheduled to work on Friday, but was paid up to date, so I blew off the last day. The timing was perfect, I could skip out without any hassle about getting my last paycheck. I didn’t want to deal with whatever fresh frisbee-related hell Big Bob had in store. Avoidance! It’s the best. I spent the whole day playing softball at Sagamore field, where I made a spectacular diving catch in the outfield.

Years later, I stopped in for a visit. By then, I had gotten into law school and was hailed as a conquering hero. Big Bob remembered me blowing him off, and told me I was crazy to think he would make my last day miserable, He said he planned to have me sit in the corner and eat cake all day. As the French say, “My ass.”

Accumulated Wisdom of Big Bob

If you eat too much Italian sausage at a picnic down at the Jersey Shore and the sausage gets stuck in your throat, here’s what you do. Take a bottle of creme de menthe (pronounced CREEM DA MINT; and get the green, not the white) and chug it down. It will blast the sausage right out of there. Guaranteed. But who brings bottles of creme de menthe to Jersey Shore sausage parties? We never asked.

“She was only the fisherman’s daughter, but I showed her my rod and oh, did she reel.” He’d say this about ten times a day, apropos of nothing, and then look at us as if he had just delivered the ten commandments.

“We laugh and joke, and take a little dope, but we don’t fuck around.” OK, maybe slightly more on point, but we didn’t need to hear it 20 times a day.

“Fuck with the baker and you get the bun, fuck with me and you don’t get none.” Finally, something that makes sense. Words I have tried to live by.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading in the ancient book of Proverbs and Psalms

for Wednesday, September 2 of 2020 with Proverbs 2 and Psalm 2 accompanied by Psalm 75 for the 75th day of Summer and Psalm 96 for day 246 of the year

[Proverbs 2]

My son, if you accept what I am telling you

and store my counsel and directives deep within you,

If you listen for Lady Wisdom, attune your ears to her,

and engage your mind to understand what she is telling you,

If you cry out to her for insight

and beg for understanding,

If you sift through the clamor of everything around you

to seek her like some precious prize,

to search for her like buried treasure;

Then you will grasp what it means to truly respect the Eternal,

and you will have discovered the knowledge of the one True God.

The Eternal is ready to share His wisdom with us,

for His words bring true knowledge and insight;

He has stored up the essentials of sound wisdom for those who do right;

He acts as a shield for those who value integrity.

God protects the paths of those who pursue justice,

watching over the lives of those who keep faith with Him.

With this wisdom you will be able to choose the right road,

seek justice, and decide what is good and fair

Because wisdom will penetrate deep within

and knowledge will become a good friend to your soul.

Sound judgment will stand guard over you,

and understanding will watch over you as the Lord promised.

Wisdom will keep you from following the way of evildoers,

of those who twist words to pervert the truth,

Of those who reject the right road

for a darker, more sinister way of life,

Of those who enjoy evil

and pursue perverse pleasures,

Of those who journey down a crooked path,

constantly figuring out new ways to trick and deceive others.

Wisdom will pluck you from the trap of a seductive woman,

from the enticing propositions of the adulteress

Who chose to leave the husband of her youth,

to forget her sacred promises to her God;

For her house is on the road that leads to death,

and her path goes down to the shadowy pit.

Those who go to her will never return;

they will never again find their way back to true life.

As for you, you should walk like those who are good

and keep to the paths of those who love justice,

For those who live right will remain in the land

and those with integrity will endure here.

But not the wicked; they will be forced out and banned from this promised land,

and those who deal in deceit will be plucked up like weeds.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 2 (The Voice)

[Psalm 2]

The Coronation of the King

You are wondering: What has provoked the nations to embrace anger and chaos?

Why are the people making plans to pursue their own vacant and empty greatness?

Leaders of nations stand united;

rulers put their heads together,

plotting against the Eternal One and His Anointed King, trying to figure out

How they can throw off the gentle reign of God’s love,

step out from under the restrictions of His claims to advance their own schemes.

At first, the Power of heaven laughs at their silliness.

The Eternal mocks their ignorant selfishness.

But His laughter turns to rage, and He rebukes them.

As God displays His righteous anger, they begin to know the meaning of fear. He says,

“I am the One who appointed My king who reigns from Zion, My mount of holiness.

He is the one in charge.”

I am telling all of you the truth. I have heard the Eternal’s decree.

He said clearly to me, “You are My son.

Today I have become your Father.

The nations shall be yours for the asking,

and the entire earth will belong to you.

They are yours to crush with an iron scepter,

yours to shatter like fragile, clay pots.”

So leaders, kings, and judges,

be wise, and be warned.

There is only one God, the Eternal;

worship Him with respect and awe;

take delight in Him and tremble.

Bow down before God’s son.

If you don’t, you will face His anger and retribution,

And you won’t stand a chance.

For it doesn’t take long to kindle royal wrath,

But blessings await all who trust in Him.

They will find God a gentle refuge.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 2 (The Voice)

[Psalm 75]

A Cup in God’s Hand

To the Pure and Shining One

Asaph’s poetic song to the tune of “Do Not Destroy”

God, our hearts spill over with praise to you!

We overflow with thanks, for your name is the “Near One.”

All we want to talk about is your wonderful works!

And we hear your reply:

“When the time is ripe I will arise,

and I will judge the world with perfect righteousness.

Though I have set the earth firmly on its pillars,

I will shake it until it totters and everyone’s hearts will tremble.”

Pause in his presence

God warns the proud, “Stop your arrogant boasting!”

And he warns the wicked,

“Don’t think for a moment you can resist me!

Why would you speak with such stubborn pride?

Don’t you dare raise your fist against me!”

This I know:

the favor that brings promotion and power

doesn’t come from anywhere on earth,

for no one exalts a person but God, the true judge of all.

He alone determines where favor rests.

He anoints one for greatness

and brings another down to his knees.

A foaming cup filled with judgment mixed with fury

is in the hands of the Lord Jehovah,

full to the brim and ready to run over.

He filled it up for the wicked and they will drink it

down to the very last drop!

But I will proclaim the victory of the God of Jacob.

My melodies of praise will make him known.

My praises will break the powers of wickedness

while the righteous will be promoted and become powerful!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 75 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 96]

Sing a new song to the Eternal;

sing in one voice to the Eternal, all the earth.

Sing to the Eternal of all the good things He’s done.

Bless His name;

broadcast the good news of His salvation each and every day.

Enlighten the nations to His splendor;

describe His wondrous acts to all people.

For the Eternal is great indeed and praiseworthy;

feared and reverenced above all gods, the True God shall be.

For all human-made, lifeless gods are worthless idols,

but the Eternal plotted the vast heavens, shaped every last detail.

Honor and majesty precede Him;

strength and beauty infuse His holy sanctuary.

Give all credit to the Eternal, families of the world!

Credit Him with glory, honor, and strength!

Credit Him with the glory worthy of His magnificent name;

gather your sacrifice, and present it at His temple.

Bow down to the Eternal, adorned in holiness;

lay awestruck before Him, trembling, all people of the earth.

Shout out to the nations, “The Eternal reigns!

Yes, indeed, the world is anchored and will not shake loose.

He governs all people with a fair hand.”

And so, let the heavens resound in gladness!

Let joy be the earth’s rhythm as the sea and all its creatures roar.

Let the fields grow in triumph, a grand jubilee for all that live there.

Let all the trees of the forest dig in and reach high with songs of joy before the Eternal,

For the Eternal is on His way:

yes, He is coming to judge the earth.

He will set the world right by His standards,

and by His faithfulness, He will examine the people.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 96 (The Voice)

[thomaswhitneyauthor-blog]

On Why I Am Not Religious

Allow me to say first that I believe in God. I believe in the Judeo-Christian God. I believe that Jesus was here, that he died for my sins, etc. The reason I believe this is due to quasi-logic:

1.       I assume there is a God because existence just doesn’t make sense without God. Existence itself is ludicrous. How can anything possibly exist just by sheer chance? Even if there is no intelligent design, where did all the stuff from the big bang come from? God is the only logical answer to that question. There can be nothing which exists which is not first created. (I realize God is the single exception to this rule, even if you think that something else created God, you can step back recursively forever. I can not explain this and no human can. I suppose there’s got to be room for faith in there somewhere and I am willing to make this leap.)

2.       I assume that God loves us because he bothered to create us. I imagine we are like his kids because he created us, much like I helped to create my children, and I can’t imagine not loving my kids, so I assume he loves us.

3.       The reason I believe that the Bible is true is complicated. There are one of several possibilities, based on the simple assumption that the point of life is not to go to Hell for eternity. I do not claim to know which is true. (The term ‘Heaven’ can mean one of any other perfect, post-Earthly planes of existence, if predicated that some other religion is the right one, or that any religion is the right one.)

a.       The existence of Heaven and/or Hell

That there is no afterlife at all, though there is a God. If this is true, then nothing matters. It doesn’t matter what we do or don’t do, or what we believe in because when we die, that’s the end.

There is no Heaven, but there is a Hell, you either cease to exist or burn forever. This seems to me the least unlikely, because it is the most cruel. If this were the case than the point of life is still not to go to Hell. Not existing is at least better than that.

There is a Heaven, but no Hell. You either live forever in paradise, or you just cease to exist. While this is nicer than #2, the point of life is then changed to ‘make sure you get to heaven’. These are closely related, only slightly different in meaning.

There is both Heaven and Hell

If predicate 3.a.1, then as stated, nothing matters, so believing is no better and no worse than not believing.

Based on predicates 3.a.2, 3.a.3, and 3.a.4, whether you are trying to get to Heaven, or just trying to avoid Hell, there are still several variant possibilities.

b.       Rules for Entrance into Heaven/Avoidance of Hell

Everybody gets to go to Heaven. How nice, but then really, this is no different than 3.a.1, so it doesn’t matter what you do or don’t do.

Everybody goes to Hell or just ceases to exist, or nobody gets into Heaven. Again, this is 3.a.1, because you’re pretty much screwed no matter what you do. It seems absurd that God would make Heaven and than allow nobody into it.

Only Christians who have asked Jesus to be their personal savior get into Heaven

Only Christians who follow the Catholic church and are absolved prior to death get into Heaven

Some other Christian variant of some rule or other get into Heaven

Some other religion is the only correct religion and only their adherents get into Heaven

There are a collection of religions whose followers get into Heaven. Jews and Christians. Or Jews, Muslims and Christians, for example.

That anybody who does enough good works gets in to Heaven

Any other possible rule that God might use to divide those who go up from those who go down.

Anybody who follows their religion faithfully get into Heaven, regardless of the religion

c.       Winnowing down the possibilities. I cannot say that I necessarily believe in 3.b.3, that Christianity is the only path to Heaven, although it says so in the Bible. However, the reason I think that the Bible is true is that

God loves us

Because he loves us, either everybody gets to Heaven, in which case it doesn’t make any difference what I believe, or he would want the most possible people to be saved from Hell/ceasing to exist

Given that Christianity it the largest religion on Earth, it would seem likely that this is the one that God wants us to believe in, henceforth, it is the one that is true. Since God wants to cast the widest net possible to save the most people possible, it either doesn’t matter what we do or believe, or else Christianity is the one he wants us to believe in.

So there are a great many things which the Bible states that I don’t necessarily believe in, but neither do I really disbelieve. I suppose I am reserving judgment on a number of things, such as sending Jews, even devout Rabbis who have devoted their entire lives to God, to Hell. This just doesn’t compute to me, so I don’t really know what to believe about it. Yet I do believe that God loves me, and I do believe that He exists that Jesus exists, that the Holy Spirit exists, and I do believe both in Heaven and Hell, I further believe that because I accepted Jesus as my Lord and savior once upon a time, that I will go to Heaven when I die and I will see my loved ones. What I don’t know is about everybody else. I’m not saying they’re doomed; I’m just saying that I don’t know.

Now then, given that I have stated the reason why I believe God exists, why is it that I don’t have a personal relationship with him, why do I not go to church, etc.?

Allow me first to state my understanding of prayer, and of free will as according to the Bible. (My understanding of the Bible, which at least some clergy would agree with.)

God will not impinge upon free will, no matter what we do, no matter what the cause, period. This means that he will not stop the good from doing good, and will not stop the evil from doing evil.  In fact, I think it’s quite useless to pray for anything that you want to happen in the world that is external to you. (Clergy might disagree with this, but...) The way I believe that God works in the world is through those people who surrender their will to the will of God. You pray for God’s will to work in your life, for God to direct you where you should go, and God will push you in the right direction. You have surrendered your free will in lieu of God’s will, and that is how He affects change in the world. That is how he gets things done, by those who are subservient to His will. So praying for God to make it rain, I don’t think works generally. I suppose there are always exceptions. If enough people pray to cure some little kid with cancer, God might just do it, but I think these are extraordinary circumstances, where God might have some specific reason for doing this, but on the whole I don’t think that’s the way things work. God works by giving a little nudge here, and little nudge there, altering the course of things. He no longer comes in with a pillar of cloud or fire anymore.

Predicated that what I have said is true, I have not been able to maintain the cessation of my own will. Perhaps I am too much of a humanist, believing in the power of mankind. Quite possibly I am too selfish. I have tried many, many times to do ‘what I’m supposed to do’, but it just doesn’t stick.

Part of me feels that religions set these impossibly high bars. In Christianity, the point isn’t even not to sin. Not really. God knows you’re going to sin. You were built broken, so that you would lean on God to help you, so that you would need Him, so that you had a close relationship with Him. “And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.” Having faith in God, real faith, will credit you righteousness, (God will put righteousness into your heavenly bank account because of your faith). So the idea here is not to sin, but to ask for forgiveness, to be weak, to lean on God and have Him direct you as to what you should do and where you should go, etc. One note-- Christianity is not the only religion to set the bar high. Judaism has only about ten trillion rules, depending on which sect you follow. Even Buddhism has the Four Noble Truths, stating that all life is suffering, suffering is caused from desire, so you just have to get rid of all desire, and you get rid of all suffering. Oh, well that sounds easy. (Eye Roll).

I do have to say, that I really like when people are honest enough to be broken, to admit it, to show it because nobody has the answers, nobody escapes the suffering that is life. (Maybe those people who have ‘attained enlightenment’ but I doubt even them.) I have come to respect brokenness because brokenness equals genuineness, and for so many years I lived without honesty. Secrets are absolutely the cancer of the soul.

Back to why I am not more religious. I am not going to fake it. Who the hell would I be faking it for? I am a hypocrite as much as anyone, but I don’t want to wallow in it. I would rather be real. I just have not been able to keep it going, to read the Bible faithfully, to go to church, etc. I think some people I have met read the Bible just to make them feel good about themselves, but I have seen it touch their lives not at all, threatening to beat up a prison guard, lying, being deviant, all the while doing Bible studies, as if that would make any difference. Perhaps I was turned off by religiosity to a greater degree than in most people because I met several people in prison who consistently sang religious songs, read the Bible daily, and yet were some of the most criminal and deviant people I’ve met. Their capacity for self-deceit was  astounding to me. (Told you I was a hypocrite.)

I suppose that when I’m on my deathbed, I will ask forgiveness for being such a lousy son of God. Not that it will do me any good. (“I never knew you.”) I pray to God for help whenever things get really bad, when I’m really afraid of something. I’ve done the deal-making, promising things and the backing out of them later. I even prayed to God to fix my offending, to take away my deviancy so that I could quit looking at little girls being raped, and fantasizing of it. Huge surprise, it didn’t work. That’s not God’s fault; it was only mine. I believe that God had a path for me to walk first, so that I could help myself get rid of my sickness, which I have done to a huge degree. I really don’t think I will ever re-offend, but we won’t know until I’m dead, or until I’ve re-offended. I feel that I’m still on God’s path, that even though I don’t follow him per se, you can’t really get rid of God, you can’t kick him completely out of your life even if you wanted to. I believe that I’m headed in a direction, that in the end everything will be OK, and that everything that has happened it truly all for the best. God excels at taking crap and making gold out of it.

In truth, I am not entirely irreligious. I express my connection with God in my writing. Many of the things I have written have a religious underpinning to them. They might lampoon things, but that’s OK because God has a sense of humor. Anybody who’s important deserves to be respectfully made fun of, to be benignly teased, and God is absolutely no different.