#oh our contribution is letting you use our church for this sometimes

[omgkalyppso]

WIP Whenever

It's about to be after midnight but @littleplasticrat tagged me for WIP Wednesday and I was trying to see if I'd start a new project or work on something to have more "newer" stuff to share. I did not.

I'll tag @the-eldritch-it-gay, @razrogue, @lemonbronze, @tadpole-apocalypse, @lovely-english-rose, @boghermit and YOU.

I'm sharing blocked dialogue that I have mostly shared before for my Astarion ate a bear wip. Except this time instead of just Astarion and Étoile, Shadowheart is there too (at least, I THINK the last time I shared from this wip she wasn't in it yet). The problem is. I can't think of a good / smooth transition from the one topic to another and though I've told myself it's fucking fine just write a bad transition from one topic to another, I haven't settled on a bad topic of conversation to follow this and precede Szarr family exposition and Shadowheart going to bed:

Astarion: You know, I've had this condition for two centuries, but truth be told? You were my first. Étoile: That can't be right. Astarion? Astarion: In all my years, I'd only ever fed on beasts. Étoile: And that was enough? Astarion: Well— Shadowheart: Is that so unusual? Étoile: Yes. You'd be mad if that were— Two hundred years? Your vampire lord didn't give you the dregs of their victims or even worse unfortunates? I'd assumed you'd killed people. Astarion: I can assure you I did that and worse at his order, but no. Cazador Szarr forbids his vampire spawn from drinking the blood of thinking creatures — and now I know why. It is a different thing entirely. Étoile: Astarion, forgive me, but— Imagine I said to you that I'd never had anything to drink; no milk, nor ale. That to slake my thirst I'd had to eat, and hope that the vegetables were moist, that the meat was rare … And then you'd given me water? It is a different thing. It is no small thing. I didn't offer you blood last night because I wanted to recover, but— While the offer was lightly touched upon before, even if it's just a mouthful, not to feed but to … slake that thirst? Come to me. Ask. Astarion: (full of shit) Darling, when have you known me to hesitate in taking what I want? I only confided in you because I wanted it to feel special. Étoile: (exasperated) It did. (mournfully) It does. Shadowheart: You’re a very strange elf, Étoile, but you’re an even more unusual monster, Astarion. Astarion: (irritable) I am not a monster. Shadowheart: Clearly. Monsters are creatures that people fear in darkness, and if you’ve never had a victim, well— Astarion: That isn’t what I said. Shadowheart: You should have been contributing to the monster analyses. Astarion: The what?

Étoile: What the others were talking about. Creatures they’d seen or defeated. Astarion: Oh? Oh, that’s right. I interrupted, didn’t I? And what were you two discussing? Shadowheart: Nothing. I had an old injury flair up. Étoile was telling me about others they knew with similar pain. Astarion: And what sort of pain was that, darling? Shadowheart: It doesn’t matter. It won’t affect us. I won’t let it. (finishing the bottle of wine into her and Étoile's goblets) Étoile: Shadowheart, I can’t have four glasses of wine. Shadowheart: (dismissive) We should finish it. I’ll heal you in the morning. Étoile: (reluctantly agreeable) Fine. (drinking, pause) The last adventuring party I had before the nautiloid — there were four of us, and our fighter had some nights in the guildhall where he would scream through to morning. He would push himself very hard, and sometimes that put him out of commission for weeks at a time. Shadowheart: (short) Well I’m not him, and I don’t — I don’t need your consideration. I wasn’t the reason my past group of allies fell, and if you start coddling me, I think that might be the impression. That I slipped. That I broke. (change in tone) The gith killed my allies. My survival wasn’t because of any sympathy, theirs or that of my church, it was because I am strong enough to weather all that I’m faced with. I am grateful when you help normally — but trust my judgment on this, and ignore me. Étoile: As you say. Shadowheart: And you. Do you need me to threaten you, Astarion? Astarion: (amused, half-threatening) Oh, please. Do indulge me? Shadowheart: You mock me now, but I will drive stakes into those pretty red eyes before I ever consider injuring your heart. You do not appear to heal as fast as stories of vampires tell. Is it because you’re a spawn? How many days would you suffer without your tongue? Étoile: (as a warning) Shadowheart. Astarion: (after an impressed choke) There’s no need for any of us to find out. Of course, your secret, little as I know of it, is safe with me. Shadowheart: (conflicted, mournful) For now. You can ply your charms all you like. I know that we are not friends, and I will be glad when this is over.

Étoile: Shadowheart, you remind me— I can’t help but feel for you, not because of whatever impression you think I hold of your pain, but because of how you conduct yourself. I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable. I promise not to bring undue attention to your injury. Shadowheart: Thank you. Maybe you were right about too much wine. Astarion: Too much personal conversation, when we all have secrets we wish to keep. Étoile: There are other things to speak of than secrets. Astarion: Such as?

[occultboyscout]

hello hello~ i just found your blog just now and after some scrolling i can tell i will really enjoy following you.

this actually woke up within me an interesting thought and i thought maybe you wouldnt mind if i shared it? i find myself very inspired by christian/jewish mystics and hermeticists that i know due to the amount of academic,philosophical and mystical knowledge involved in those practices, and i find myself being drawn to traditional magic but (classic story nothing unique) oh gosh the heebie jebies over any mention of „the one god” are strong and not lessening. i know mysticism is all about gaining gnosis over what god means to you but born in poland = religious ickeys. i have slowly started incorporating deities into my work, and im starting to feel pleasure venerating hermes and apollo but those are productive connections with specific purposes so its not what i imagine when i think of worship.

have you known people in this situation who have eventually figured out a way to interact with this sphere of esotericism? of course i understand if my question is sudden and overtly personal for a first message haha. let me know if thats the case, otherwise im curious to hear from you!

I'm glad for the question. I think these sorts of conversations (despite how personal they can be) are incredibly important to have and discuss. I can't offer you a clear answer, but hopefully I can add a little bit to your process.

I talk a little bit about this on an upcoming episode of Luxoccult, so if you're a podcast fan keep an eye on that feed. It might be better to hear me say some of this stuff out loud. In the same breath I apologize if I repeat myself.

I went through a very similar thing. When I started to feel a pull towards the grimoires and the history of western magic I felt an incredible amount of fear. I had done so much to distance myself from that world. I had so much suffering inflicted upon me as a queer man in America by Christians and in the name of Christ. I was also someone who had worked for the church, had done ecclesiastical work. Someone who thought I had done a lot of good through that. I turned to Chaos Magic and, through that to Heathenry, to give myself an escape from that confusion. An escape from the dissonance I felt between my work and the people around me.

What purpose could there be for me, someone who was wildly queer and polyamorous and loving it, to engage with the work of dead guys whose perception of good was fundamentally tied with the virginal?

My salvation was philosophy. The realization that our ontologies are not set in stone, and that we have always found some way to disagree. That in disagreeing, in building my own framework for how this operates, I was contributing more to the tradition of western magic and the future of it than by blindly subscribing to the ontologies of my forbears.

The grimoires are prescriptive. They offer us names and seals and modes to operate. And they work as intended. They should be engaged with on their own terms and using their own methods. As best as we have the capability to. None of that means that we are the same as the people who wrote them, or have the same perspectives.

On one hand it is our obligation to know the traditions we pull from, to respect them. We have to put in the work. On the other, it is not our obligation to remain unchanging. To conservatively rest on the laurels of our predecessors.

Read up on some philosophy. Some *weird* philosophy. Check out some Neoplatonists and some Pythagoreans and some "Gnostics" (quotations for how academically fraught that word is). See their perceptions of God or the Monad and what that actually meant to them. See if the idea of God you come out the other end with is something that evens negates the ideas you had already. Sometimes the problem is semantic more than anything else.

I highly recommend the podcast The Secret History of Western Esotericism as a jumping off point for some of these philosophies. The way Eric condenses some of these ideas it can be a great jumping off point for "oh hey actually I kinda like that".

Most importantly however, break your brain a bit before you start getting hard ideas. I'm recommending starting with the philosophy NOT because I want you to have a hard ontology before diving into western magic. I want you to instead have a broader understanding of the many ways people have done and thought about this stuff. That there's no one mode of thought for approaching it.

Finally, you don't have to do any of this. Yes the story of western magic is wrapped up in the grimoires, and it will in some way inform a ton of what any of us in the west find ourselves doing anyway. And I find it, for that reason and others, important to be well-read in. But you are in no obligation to do fucking anything, for any reason. And you are under no obligation to do magic in any way other than the way you want to do it. If that ends up putting theurgy off the table? Fine, that's great. You'll be better for having tried, and for being willing to expand in the first place.

Fair warning, I went on this journey and found myself a Christian again (of a sort). I'm not upset by that. But to some of my friends who broke hard from the church that change in me was confusing and strange. We run the risk of changing no matter what we choose to engage with. As a magician, that's a risk I'm willing to take.

[yhwhrulz]

Worthy Brief - December 1, 2023

Oh baby!

Genesis 16:1-2 Now Sarai Abram's wife bare him no children: and she had an handmaid, an Egyptian, whose name was Hagar. And Sarai said unto Abram, Behold now, the LORD hath restrained me from bearing: I pray thee, go in unto my maid; it may be that I may obtain children by her. And Abram hearkened to the voice of Sarai.

The baby that came into the world through the scenario above was named Ishmael. According to Islamic belief, it was Ishmael that was offered as a sacrifice by Abraham, and through him that they became the rightful inheritors of the promises of God. In other words, Ishmael was the seed through which Islam was born. Hmmm.

Sometimes God allows us to be in a barren place for a purpose. Perhaps we're longing for a child, a spouse, a house, a job, a ministry, a new church building, a trip we've wanted to take. Whatever it is, we have to remember that God has His perfect purposes for these difficult times!

When we go ahead of God, we make babies born in the flesh just like Ishmael. But when we wait for God's perfectly appointed time, a baby is born in the Spirit. That's what I want. I want to do things in God's timing -- not my own! I want the Lord to develop the patience in me that can wait for His perfect will to be done! How about you?

We all face hardships and difficult decisions. God has given us the power to do things in our flesh to acquire them -- and let me tell you, sometimes I sure do wish He hadn't. But let's give these things to the Lord today and allow Him to provide for us in His perfect way and timing. Then we're birthing something special! Have a great weekend! Shabbat Shalom!

Your family in the Lord with much agape love,

George, Baht Rivka, Obadiah and Elianna (Dallas, TX) (Baltimore, MD)

Editor's Note: The Apple App Store has given the green light to our upgrade! If you haven't installed our Worthy News App on either Android or Apple devices, you can download it today. -https://worthynews.app/ We've designed it to allow you to follow up to 50 different news sites within our app 24 hours a day, 7 days a week! And the best part? It's completely free!

Editor's Note: During this war, we have been live blogging throughout the day -- sometimes minute by minute on our Telegram channel. Be sure to check it out! - https://t.me/worthywatch/

Editor's Note: If you have a desire to contribute to the support of Israel, we've established a dedicated fund where every dollar you contribute will go towards supporting helping Israeli believers in Yeshua. - https://worthyministries.com/israel/

Editor's Note: We are planning our Winter Tour so if you would like us to minister at your congregation, home fellowship, or Israel focused event, be sure to let us know ASAP. You can send an email to george [ @ ] worthyministries.com for more information.

[felsartdump]

I know I already had my go at this but I feel the need to go for round 2 because I seriously hard on hate this fucking organization.

My older sister has dyslexia and multiple mixed learning disabilities. When she finished highschool her first 'job' was volunteer work for the Salvation Army thrift stores. She was expected to work 8hr days, 5x a week and would get lectured if she took too much time off.

She volunteered for these mother fuckers for TEN FUCKING YEARS. My dad would constantly go in and advocate for her, telling them 'hey she's been volunteering for you for a long time and has a perfect attendance for this job. When is she going to see some pay?

They strung her along. "Oh we can't afford it rn because we're redoing the store." "Oh our profits aren't high enough for that yet" and so many other bullshit reasons I can't even remember right now, WHILE HER COWORKERS WERE GETTING PAID TO DO THE EXACT SAME FUCKING JOB.

They literally extorted my sister's disabilities to keep her volunteering for them so they'd never have to pay her and even started saying shit like "you're too mentally ill to work anywhere else; we're doing you a favor." She was made to be the bell ringer at Wal-Mart for every Christmas for ten years and then not even given the fucking pennies of what she made for them standing around in the cold for 8+ hrs at times.

My father spent YEARS on their ass, short of threatening to take them to court and to this day my sister has never seen so much as a dime from them. She's started working at a fast food restaurant instead now and has spent fucking months gushing to me about how 'nice' a fucking Wendy's is for paying her fucking minimum wage.

Fuck the Salvation Army. They extort people for profits, psychologically damage the people they claim to help, campaign against gay rights, have murdered trans people and make people attend their services and 'pray' (aka beg) for food like fucking animals.

DO NOT DONATE TO THE SALVATION ARMY. BOYCOTT EVERYTHING ABOUT THEM.

DO NOT SUPPORT SALVATION ARMY 

[bogkeep]

let's see if i can wordsify this cluster of thoughts, about Questions. questions are good. it's good to be curious. it's good to yearn for understanding. it's good to accept your ignorance and make yourself vulnerable in it. it's a good instinct to question everything. we form communities by sharing our knowledge and we pass it down. we form connections by asking in a million different ways; is it okay to hold your hand? you SHOULD ask, it never hurts to ask, but understand this: there are two parts playing and yours is only one, answers are heavy and you might not even know how much you have even asked for. you probably had no way to know.

when a stranger reached out to me in a twitter DM, 'hi, i want to write about a transgender character in my story, can i ask just a quick question?" and yes, that is a noble cause, and i feel so flattered when someone values my thoughts and trusts my opinions, i genuinely love to contribute to these things - but the question turned out to be something like "what did it feel like when you transferred to another gender?" and thought, OH BOY, and then i spent the next hour and a half writing out a lecture in Trans and Gender 101 from the very ground up. the asker thanked me for broadening their understanding, and i do not regret doing so - i could easily have said 'i'm sorry but that's a very big question, here are some resources on being trans", or even "i'm sorry but i cannot help you".

or when i am asked - multiple times throughout my presence as an On Line Artist, "how do i draw good?" "what is your process?" and i want to tell you, i want to open my ribcage like a wardrobe and pull out a coherent ribbon of words condensing two decades of my life and thoughts and experiences to let you know, but i do not have the time the blood the bones to even BEGIN, the best i can do is to whittle down your questions to itty bitty pieces. people go to SCHOOL to learn these things, for YEARS. i am just one person and i haven't even gotten paid for this. i know you hoped the answer would be a short one, an easy one. or maybe you didn't! maybe you know, this is a big thing to ask, but it never hurts to ask. and it doesn't hurt to ask, but it might hurt to answer.

every person belonging to a marginalized group of some kind knows this. there are so many people who want to KNOW and UNDERSTAND, and that's a good case scenario, and they have to straddle the line between bridging those gaps and "i don't owe you answers and education". how many painful anecdotes do they have to share to help us get it? and that's the paradox, isn't it - they HAVE to share their private pain for everyone to see so other people can know about racism, fatphobia, ableism - the injustice and unfairness they suffer and many ignore or misconstrue. answering questions like a prayer to be believed and understood and sometimes the reward is only more questions.

don't even get me started on "BUT I'M JUST ASKING QUESTIONS". so far we have assumed good faith, and so often it is not. there's the bone deep exhaustion of explaining as best you can to someone who genuinely wants to listen, and there's the even deeper well of tiredness when confronted with someone who has decided not to. it is bad enough to have to deconstruct misinformation in order to share actual, well-sourced facts, which takes a lot more energy than just making shit up. even worse when the questions are traps, construed to snap shut around you, they might ask is it true that you burn churches after eating babies? and by starting to explain that you don't eat babies at ALL you have already made their question a legitimate one by engaging with it. so you don't, and they'll tell everyone how you're avoiding the questions.

of course we need to keep asking questions. ask questions with intent and understanding and a willingness to listen. but remember that every answer is a gift. a ribcage ribbon freely given. sometimes the answer will be no. you are not owed.

[hadit93]

Will you buy the book “Spare” by Prince Harry? Thoughts on this scandal? Is there a love generational curse on this family. The Queen’s uncle abdicated for his love, the Queen’s son also created a mess by marrying Camilla and now Harry was involved in a big scandal.

While I like the public image of the Queen I’ve came to realise that it is all an illusion. Not in the sense that she was a reptilian who fed off children but in the sense that behind the polished image there are many lurking secrets that would create shady gossip. Well on the other hand if I were born in a royal family, be it in the UK, Denmark, UAE, Japan or North Korea, We can agree we would all do everything for our kin so I do not entirely blame them.

My partner bought it, I've skimmed through it a little. I personally will not be reading it, I have more important books to read both fiction and non-fiction.

I don't believe there is a curse. What is important to remember is that the monarch is head i.e. the spiritual leader of the Church of England. There are certain expectations surrounding marriage that church held which the monarch was expected to uphold also. The Queen's uncle certainly gave up everything for love, however, the way the public and the family looked at it is he sacrificed his duty for love. It is either heroic or selfish dependent upon how you look at it. But he certainly did not suffer for it- at least across the shores. He still got money from the British public. Then when he decided Hitler was good company it is shocking to me that he was ever allowed to be buried here. He was not a good man.

Again, Charles was in line for the throne and thus in line to be head of the Church of England and at the time of his marriage to Diana it would not have been okay in the eyes of the church and the queen for Camilla to become divorced and her and Charles to marry. She also had to make such a decision in regards to her sister. Diana was quite literally a trophy wife, a breeding machine and she said as much in her own words.

The royal family are human, they are privileged humans who simply cannot integrate with real people- it would be a threat to their lives for them to just pop down to the local pub. They are out of touch and also prone to mistake which is why they have aides etc. I don't think the Queen was perfect by any means, I don't think the current king is perfect, I don't think any of them will be perfect. But I think they are contributing more good to the world than evil despite sometimes saying stupid and thoughtless things.

I used to like Prince Harry. But I cannot respect his current actions. He has spat on his family and on his country. You do not air your dirty laundry in public. Unless of course you WANT the attention. "Oh no, Meg and I are shy, we just want to live in our massive house and feed our chickens!"......Lets write a book, do a Netflix documentary, go on several interviews, and still use titles we no longer have claim to. Actions do not match the words.

They have all just lost both the matriarch and patriarch of their family. Harry and his family should be closer than ever. I am sure all of this needs discussing with a mediator in place. Perhaps the royals are not open to it, they are of a different generation. My grandparents would never attend therapy for example. But a conversation needs to be had.

As for Megan, I wish her no ill will. I don't think she truly knew what she was getting in to. But I was thrilled that the royal family were progressive enough to okay and allow a marriage to a mixed-race person. It was a highlight of how accepting Britain should be. This being said, the media did absolutely destroy her. Unfortunately the royal response to any scandal is to stay silent. Harry didn't like this and kicked off- I believe as a trauma response from what his mother went through. It is a mess, I think no single person is to blame, it is a complex situation. It requires a complex solution. This being said I believe Megan and Harry have crossed several lines now, and this isn't as a royalist, this is if my family members did what they did I would never speak to them again. You do not shout family secrets in public, you simply do not. And I found Megan to be rude in her interviews on Netflix, that is not to say I think she is rude, but this is how she came off. And yet this interview was in their control so it is not just the media casting this image of her.

She has also lied. There is photographic evidence proving she has lied. And if someone lies about little things, I can no longer trust big assertions they make 100%. This is simply how I am.

BUT despite all this, I think the British public, myself included, are over it. I don't care about Harry and Megan, I just wish they would go quietly like they said they wanted. The media left them alone for the most part. We have bigger things to worry about as a nation- we can't afford our gas bills, all our essential services are striking over pay, the country is literally falling apart. There is war in Ukraine. And yet some prince thinks we should care that his privileged life isn't all that happy. I'm sure they are warm, surrounded by luxury, and eating three good meals a day. He wants to look at the British public he left behind and be thankful for what he does have.

[electronicgrowth]

Can’t Get Enough Part 2

Hi friends! What do we think of Billie and Lee? How will Lee keep Billie? Only time will tell *evil laugh*. 

Summary: The two most stubborn people in Knockemstiff, Ohio have eyes for only each other. Lee Bodecker is determined to become the town’s next sheriff. He knows that image is everything. Billie Dechswaan doesn’t care about her image at all. All she wants is to leave Knockemstiff and never come back. But Lee has other plans for her. Both are far too stubborn to give up their own plans. What happens when they can’t get enough of each other?

Word Count: 1.9k

Billie awoke the next morning nervous. Not nervous that she was going to be pregnant, she may have been a small town girl but she wasn’t stupid. No, she was nervous because she knew she had crossed a line the night before. It was something she had dreamed of doing, for almost a full year. But she had plans to leave Knockemstiff and she couldn’t be deterred. She figured there was no sense in worrying about it for the time being. Knowing Lee Bodecker, she knew that he never paid a girl attention for very long. And she had to get ready for church. 

Being part of a family of eight meant that trying to pile everyone into the car on Sunday morning was an event. Wesley sat between his parents. And the three girls sat in the back. Joseph and Thomas sat in the trunk area. It was plenty big for the two of them. Joy fussed over her children. Straightening the boys ties and attempting to keep the girls’ dresses from getting rumpled. She had recently focused much of her attention on Billie. Billie was at the age where she needed to think about finding a nice fella to settle down with. John and Joy didn’t approve of Billie’s plan to leave Ross County. They knew she could find a nice boy in town and have wonderful grandchildren for them. 

Today Joy was especially grating to Billie. She thought about faking sick and skipping the church services. She didn’t know why her mother made the family listen to both services. They weren’t the same, but they were similar. Billie thought one service was plenty. But no, they had two every Sunday and Joy insisted that her daughters help serve lunch between the two services. The local women who could find some room in their budget to contribute a dish or two each week ran the lunches. She hated that everyone expected her to help. But she never put up a fuss about it. 

Lee awoke that same morning very excited. Excited about his future with Billie and today he would start to woo her. He knew the entire family would be at the Sunday church service. So, he went to the Sunday service and actively sought out the Dechswaan family. He saw Joy in one pew, she was toying with Billie’s dress. It’s white with pink flowers embroidered on it. Joy is obsessively running one hand over the dress, as if she think there’s wrinkles in the fabric. Billie looks entirely unamused. Lee walks over to the family as they’re starting to sit down. 

“Deputy Bodecker,” Joy beamed, “How are you on this fine Sunday?”

“Doing well ma’am,” he responds. 

“Good, good. Why don’t you sit with us today,” Joy grins, sitting down. 

“I would love to,” Lee smirks. 

“You and Billie can sit next to each other,” Joy suggests. He was used to mama’s shoving their daughters at him. What mama wouldn’t want a nice man with benefits to marry their little girl? 

Lee grinned to himself as he sat. If Joy was already trying to push Billie on him then this would be easy. Billie hesitantly sits between Lee and her mother. Lee’s legs spread open so his thigh brushes Billie’s. She strains to take a deep breath in. The air in the church was sweltering. You couldn’t expect much more from a stuffy church in Southern Ohio in June. 

Sweat was pouring down Billie’s back. She could feel her heart beating out of her chest. Lee moved his leg up and down so it rubbed on Billie’s leg. She wanted desperately to lean into it. The preacher asked the congregation to stand and sing. Billie stands with the rest of the family, she felt all the blood rush to her head. She stumbles back into Lee a bit. He rights her, he’s not sure what to make of her stumble and the intense blush in her face. She moves her hair off of her neck. She can’t feel the tips of her fingers, there’s ringing in her ears, and she can’t breathe. She starts to see little black dots hopping across her visual field. They’re halfway through Amazing Grace when Billie’s vision goes black and she collapses. 

Lee catches her before she hits the floor. There’s gasping and panicking. The preacher’s wife jumps to action.

“Let’s get her to the kitchen, we can get her some water,” she says, coming to the rescue. Lee carries Billie and Mrs. Dechswaan follows closely behind, ordering the other children to stay with their father to finish the sermon. Billie’s loss of consciousness is very brief, before they even get fully downstairs her eyes flutter open. She doesn’t fight Lee holding her. He manages to get her downstairs to the church kitchen, where he gingerly sets her on a countertop. 

“You feeling alright, sweetie?” Her mother coos with concern. Billie nods, not trusting her own voice. “I told you to eat breakfast,” Joy admonishes, handing her a glass of water provided by the preacher’s wife. Lee gathers Billie’s hair off her neck and starts to fan her with a church bulletin. If Joy wasn’t so concerned with her daughter fainting she might have noticed that such an action was too familiar. Billie sipped the water for a moment. 

“Thank you for catching me Deputy Bodecker,” she whispers. 

“Of course,” he responds.

“Mama, I just wanna go home,” Billie begs. 

“We can’t, honey. I’m signed up to serve luncheon between services,” Joy sighs. 

“Well, daddy or Joseph or Thomas could drive me home between,” Billie counters. 

“Honey, you know they’re going straight to that hog auction from here,” Joy says, clearly irritated that the three are skipping a church service. 

“I could take her,” Lee offers.

“We couldn’t impose,” Joy argues. 

“No, really. It’s quite alright. I was going to duck out between services anyway. I have a shift down at the station,” Lee promises. 

“Mama, just let him take me,” Billie urges. Joy looks at Lee, studying him.

“If you’re sure, I would really appreciate you helping us out,” she exhales. 

“Of course. It’s no problem,” Lee smiles. 

“Alright,” Joy allows, “Thank you Lee.” Billie slides off the counter and onto her feet. The four sneak back up to the main level. The preacher’s wife and Joy go back to the chapel for the remainder of the service. But Lee leads Billie outside with a tight grip on her arm. He opens the passenger door for her, before going around to the other side of the car.

“Thank you,” she murmurs as Lee starts the car. 

“You feeling any better?” He asks, eyes straight ahead on the road. 

“Still a little light-headed, but yeah,” she says. 

“You scared me there,” he tells her. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. Lee nods. He’s silent for a moment. 

“I wanted to chat with you about the other night, actually,” Lee says. 

“Are you going to lecture me?” Billie wonders aloud. 

“No,” he laughed, “I just want to make myself clear going forward.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I would like to start dating you,” he responded.

“Huh,” Billie hummed. 

“You’re a beautiful girl and you deserve someone who can provide for ya and treat ya right,” Lee murmured. 

“Sounds like you’re ready to settle down.”

“I am. The sheriff’s gotta have a lady on his arm.”

“And you want me… to be that lady.”

“I do. You’d be good at it. Already help serve Sunday luncheon and you could volunteer to work with the little kids during one of the services. Until we have our own babies, of course.”

“I think you’re moving too fast, Lee. I intend to go my own way for a time. I want to experience the world.”

“Baby,” he shakes his head, “The only experiences you need are right here. I can give you a good life. Once I’m sheriff, anything you want I can get ya. The fanciest house. The prettiest dresses. I don’t care. We’ll be so happy.” Lee stops the car, they had finally arrived back to the old farmhouse that Billie’s family lived in. Billie’s eyes are wide. She seemed almost panicked by what he had to say. 

“Uhmm, do want to come in? Have a glass of lemonade?” She asked, politely. 

“Of course,” he smiled. He was glad that she was already catering to him. She’d make a pretty little wife. He followed Billie up the steps of the house, she stumbled a little and he caught her by the elbow. 

“Thank you,” she sighed. She opened the door and led him to the kitchen. The table where the family ate was scuffed and scratched, all the chairs were mismatched. He would buy her a much nicer dining room set. He sat and waited for her to join him. She gathered two glasses and a pitcher of lemonade before sitting down at the table. She poured them each a glass. Lee drank from his glass deeply, while Billie sipped. 

“I appreciate what you’re saying Lee, I really do,” she began, “But I really want to go to college. I want to be a teacher and live in a big city.” 

“I know, honey. But my plan is better for you. You don’t have to work. You just gotta take care of me,” he explained. It was simple to him. He couldn’t fathom what it was that she wasn’t getting. Billie was quiet. 

“Didn’t you have fun last night, sugar?” He asked, his voice was gravelly and low. 

“I-I did,” she answered. Lee reach his hand over to rub her thigh. 

“I could love on you like that every night, baby,” he told her, “Wouldn’t that be nice?” Billie nodded dumbly. It did sound nice. Her heart was beating quickly again. She fought to control her breath. Was he going to do that again? Right now? Part of her really hoped so. 

“Well, we don’t have to get married anytime soon,” Lee reasoned, “We can take it slow and maybe next summer we get married. Just give me sometime to prove to ya that I can treat ya right, okay?” Billie nodded again. Lee leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. 

“I gotta head to work, baby,” Lee downed the rest of his lemonade, “Let’s meet tonight. Go through your woods over here and I’ll pick you up, okay?”

“Alright,” Billie nodded. She didn’t know why she was agreeing. 

“Good, I’ll see you at ten, then. Now give me a kiss and walk me out,” he commanded, standing up. Billie stood and reached up on her tippy toes to kiss Lee. He was at least six foot and she was just five feet five inches tall. She pecked his lips. But he wrapped his arms around her, and held her to him. He deepened the kiss, running his tongue against hers. She kissed him back eagerly. Her tongue fought his for dominance. His hand snaked down to her ass to palm it. He pulled away from her with a gasp and released her. Billie walked him to the door and pecked his lips a second time. 

“Bye,” she smiled. 

“I’ll see you tonight, baby.” She watched Lee drive away before closing the door. She went back to the kitchen to clean the two glasses, before slinking up to her bed. If she was meeting Lee tonight then she would need to get some sleep. 

@greeneyedblondie44

[witchyintention]

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕔𝕣𝕒𝕗𝕥?

As of late many have found themselves taking steps into the wondrous world of witchcraft. However it is a lot more than just an aesthetic. It is a lifestyle that is both beautiful and dangerous when you don't know what you're doing. Witchy Intention is to help guide you in your craft and teach you through my experiences and research. Along with many other experienced witches through interviews.

When you hear someone say witchcraft you instantly jump to satanic or devil worship but truth be told it's not. Satan is a figure in Christianity and has absolutely nothing to do with witchcraft. So what is witchcraft you ask. Witchcraft is an earth based religion or practice, and has been practiced in almost all the societies and cultures across the world. Though each craft is different according to local beliefs and traditions.

According to scholars of witchcraft, it was a belief system whose origin predates the majority of well known religions. It dates back so far many do not know the exact date, but we have seen it in many cultures such as ancient Egyptians. It also has been evolving since then and its present form is quite different from what it was thousands of years ago. And different areas practiced it differently. Even today from person to person and Coven to Coven it is practice differently. To each their own. It's a unique experience in itself. 

In the ancient times, Witchcraft was known as ‘craft of the wise’ as the wise persons were those who followed the path of nature and were in tune with its forces, had the knowledge of herbs and medicines, gave wise counsel and were held in high esteem as Shamanic healers and leaders in the village and community. They understood that nature was superior to human beings and that human beings were simply one of the many parts of nature, both seen and unseen that combine to form one whole. As Chief Seattle said, “We do not own the earth; we are a part of it.” They understood that what we take from nature or use, we must return in kind to maintain the balance and equilibrium. The modern man has, however, forgotten this and has paid the price in the form of many ecological and environmental disasters.

Unfortunately for the past several hundred years the image of the witch has been associated with the evil, heathenism and unrighteousness due to prejudices created by the Christian church. Somewhere along the line Christians accused the Pagan Horned god as the devil because these pagans didn't believe in the same god as them. So what does some Christian of high power do? Calls it devil worship. Despite the fact the bible never tells us what Lucifer looks like upon going to hell. 

However, as of late people have started understanding and practicing witchcraft as the true religion of God and Nature. There is renewed interest in witchcraft and witches profess to believe and practice the craft with a sense of pride and confidence. The believers in the New Age movement have understood witchcraft in its true perspective.

Modern witchcraft attracts believers from all walks of life and positions in society all over the world. They come together to understand the life, nature, evolution and mysteries of the universe through witchcraft. Witchcraft is the most democratic religion and practices in the world. There is no rigid dogma and no hard-line regime except for a simple premise that we should not do evil and if we do, know it will come back in multiple. Though not all witches bide by this but many of us do. Secondly, we should not misuse the generosity of nature by disturbing its balance. This is certainly something we all bide by. 

There are many forms of witchcraft like I had said earlier it differs from person to person. I will have a separate episode going into the top most popular kinds of witches but for now let's just explain a few things. A lot of other belief systems have set rules of what is good and what is bad, think the ten commandments, or Orthodox Jews are not allowed to use anything mechanical on the Sabbath, or Muslims are only allowed to eat certain parts of the animal. Witchcraft isn't like that. It's more about the big picture and how our actions contribute to that big picture. 

I would also like to clarify that being a witch doesn't mean your Wiccan or even pagan. You can very much still be Christian and practice the craft. Remember I said witchcraft was all about the mother earth along with whatever god or gods you worship. This includes the Christian god. I personally know a few Christian witches.

 However note that if you are a Christian witch you will be working with only that god. If you plan to work with other gods perhaps you need to rethink your religion's standpoint. "Thou shalt have no other gods before Me" is one of the Ten Commandments found in the Hebrew Bible at Exodus 20:2 and Deuteronomy 5:6. With that said the craft is something unique and interesting but be careful because it is real and it can be dangerous. 

When new witches find themselves wanting to get into the craft but they really have no idea where to start. Try the history. There is a lot more history than I could even hope to cover in a single session. This is nothing more than an introduction to it. When you are learning about its history you will find many different kinds of practices. 

Though it's perfectly fine to be drawn to a practice and wanting to do it. Make sure you first do research on whether the practice is a closed or open practice. Closed practices are closed for a reason and most times you have to have approval to practice it and be sworn in. So if you find yourself wanting to do a closed practice make sure you do the research on how you can do it and do go through the proper procedures. 

Some might not let you in at all. For example Voodoo. Voodoo is one of the ones you work with your ancestors, an African folk magic. Those gods (spiritual beings? I really don't know.) are not going to be very accepting of one who is of European descent because your ancestors did their ancestors wrong. 

If you are considering the craft, know this, you will spend your whole life learning about the craft. Even the most seasoned of witches are constantly learning. The craft in a sense is like a hypothesis. You will constantly be learning, writing down your findings, doing this and that, to see if it works and figuring things out as you go. But before you even think about getting a head of yourself you need to do lots of research. Don't think 'oh I read a book I can now do a spell'. Witches read a lot. Even if we have already read something on a topic we will keep on. Cross reference everything you read. There is plenty of false information. Especially on the internet, but there are some good sources too.

You need tons of training and maybe even guidance from established witches before you cast your first spell. However we know full well that you learn by doing. So go for it but start with small simple spells. Note that writing a spell or doing a spell does not require a coven, animal bones, and full moon, as fun as nights involving these can be. In fact many witches don't have covens and many do not use animal bones. 

Sometimes it’s not about forming the biggest circle under a full moon, but just having a good time with other witches. Or even yourself if you prefer to do Magic solo. It's fine and very much acceptable. But coven or not it's always fun to do with friends. Nothing's like dancing around a bonfire with your best friends.

Practicing can get expensive. I mean you're going to spend a lot of money on books. Though the internet had everything you could possibly need, nothing beats a good book on witchcraft. I mean who doesn't want a bookshelf full of witchcraft research. Then the actual items you'll need will cost you. Even if it's not aesthetically pleasing. People tend to go a cheaper route using things for the dollar store or reusing sauce jars. Which is good but you will still spend a pretty penny because you'll constantly be getting new ones. Jars break, candles melt, herbs are all used up and crystals can and will break. And no your practice might not always be aesthetically pleasing or photo worthy at all time. Truth be told it can be a bit messy, kinda like arts and crafts. Then again witchcraft is both an art and a craft so it makes sense.

Not all witches are female. Whether you are male, nonbinary, trans, genderless, or anything in between, you can be a witch. It's true that there is a beautiful history of women and witchcraft but magick is genderless. Magik does not care about your gender, sexuality, or religious beliefs. Magik is also not good nor evil, it all depends on how the protactioner is using it.

Popular belief also tells that you have to be born into a witch family or your ancestors have to be a witch for you to be one. That's not true. I have said it once and I have said it twice. Anyone can be a witch. 

Hexes, they are real. Sorry if this scares you, but hexes, cast to inflict misfortune on others, are indeed real. Some witches but not all believe Magic used with ill intent will come back three times on the caster. Some call this The Rule of Three some call it karma. Either way just know it will come back to you some way or another, even if it's by a return to sender spell.

One of the mean teachings of witchcraft by most forms is what you put into the universe is what you get out of it. If you put positivity into the world you'll get positivity back. The same could be said about negativity. But then someone will say 'Oh I have been putting positivity in the world and nothings happening.' If that's the case the negativity you've been put into the world prior to it is still trying to catch up to you. So keep up the positivity even if it's hard.

You don't have to wear all black. There isn’t a standard dress code for witches, and while it’s absolutely acceptable to wear black from head to toe, there are just as many witches who prefer a sundress and sandals as there are who like black fishnets and velvet.

Black cats are not needed either. Though there is nothing wrong with having a black cat and being a witch. Both have been misunderstood for their supposed evil intentions and connections to dark magic for centries.

Remember real magic isn't some Harry Potter mumbo jumbo either. Though let's face it, we can all still pretend that's what it's like. I do. I know the difference between real magic and what the church and Entertainment make it out to be. But I still enjoy the fiction as much as the real. But we do use wands. Though not all of us do and if anything it's to help control where our magic goes to say.

Black, Grey, White, Evil or Good Magic are terms I personally do not use. Some people use these terms, but they probably shouldn't. To start, they have racist undertones. Rituals that are mistakenly believed to be bad are labeled black magic often come from traditions such as Hoodoo, which is traditional African folk magic, that is also a closed practice. Another thing I have said before is that Magic and Witchcraft alike are not good or bad, it's all on how the protationer uses it. I personally tend to stay away from these labels simply because I do not like the negative feeling given and the story behind them. But that is just me, I would hope many follow in those footsteps but not all are going to. I fully understand that.

✩ Don't Steal Other Peoples Work ✩

Written:

May 24, 2020

By:

Reine Alicis

[phoenixyfriend]

The “Momma Sturmvoraus was Literally Satan” AU

As requested by @spazzbot​. This AU was initially brainstormed on the GG fanworks server almost a year ago. Specifically, on the first day of 2020.

[ID: a truncated discord message by “Miss Nixy, Gay for RoboLadies” posted 01/01/2020. The message reads “I need to sleep but please for the moment consider:” and ends there.]

So. Let’s get to it.

Satan took a human form because why not see what's going on topside, live like a human, and “Oh shit is this pregnancy? This is pregnancy. Fuck, that's a tiny human. Which is now half demon. Am I supposed to take care it? Wonder if retconing this form into that Valois family was a bad idea. They do have SO much money though, I get to live like a queen. I suppose another child shouldn't hurt, it wasn't that bad. Oh, he's cute, this is actually making sense, why humans do all the sinning. Not counting dear Aaronev's murders, of course, those are just evil, but I did search out the worst of the humans to pair myself to...”

This is literally just "Tarvek and Anevka's mom was low-key Satan on a bored “let's be human for a decade or two to see what happens” jaunt, consequences happen because these kids are LITERALLY half-demon and arguably anti-Christs."

Also it's just Very Funny for Tarvek, ineffectual sexy lamp fashion twunk extraordinaire, to be an antichrist

Jeff thinks he’s pretty. Jeff keeps describing features that don’t entirely make sense. (Jeff’s canon name is Karl Thotep but they spent so long unnamed that the server collectively named them Jeff.)

This is not a crossover with anything, btw. Ambiguously Pop Culture Satan just got bored and went to have babies with a serial killer.

They’re just kids! That are vaguely demonic. So. Moreso than the rest of the Valois.

Sometimes "mom" comes back from the dead and visits Anevka and Tarvek to impart Wisdom and possibly magic lessons The rooms always smell faintly of sulfur after that...

They try to put Anevka in the machine but SHE isn't hurt and the MACHINE just melts

So that's the end of that.

It's very awkward for everyone, but the paperwork isn't too bad. It's very easy to write "incidental fire began during late-fugue experimentation, resulted in fire spreading through six rooms and several casualties, including Prince Aaronev Wilhelm Sturmvoraus."

As per @atagotiak​, “I feel like if we’re going in any way dimensional weirdness with thing, Tarvek got so good at exploring bc he could just clip through walls.”

With image provided by @thisarenotarealblog​:

Tarvek in Paris: My dead mother keeps showing up in my dreams to tell me I need to seduce my way out of my problems and also she looks like Satan. Tarvek's Voltaire-Appointed Therapist: I still don't know what that means. Just like the last five times. Tarvek: I keep telling her that I can’t seduce Colette, if seduction is that important she should get Anevka to do it.

Like he probably wouldn’t say most of that in front of any Voltaire-approved individual, but still.

Tarvek is still very good at self control but there's a Special Edge to his rants.

(Derailed in the moment to me thinking about Anevka in a sfw-but-concerningly-deadly succubus getup, because... yeah.)

Aaronev dies and goes to hell and his dead wife is just there like "hi! Time to be tortured for eternity!" He wasn't a good husband so. He can't exactly sentimentalize his way out.

“In the sexy way?” “... not for you, no.”

Mostly I just want the BULLSHIT that is "Storm Mom was actually just Satan getting bored and going on vacation as a retconned Valois girl, the kids are half-demons and sometimes it Shows."

To clarify: the Satan bit isn't the retcon. Grandma used to have one daughter. Now there are two. (Seffie and Martellus's mother doesn't remember being an only child, but sometimes...)

Satan retconned a new daughter in, which included a Valid Valois Venusian Vestment, so the blood tests play out.

The subtle signs of wrongness would be fun too. Anevka tends to smile a bit too wide and sharp for a human face. Inexplicable uneasiness, here you can’t point at any specific thing that’s wrong but it’s uncomfortable. Uncanny valley prettiness, almost like the porcelain she became in other timelines. Skin isn’t supposed to be that smooth.

My brain's pre-nap contribution at that point was "Satan's pronouns when not pretending to Human are sin/sinself" which is! Certainly a thing.

Tarvek, at some nebulous future point: I mean, your ancestors were monsters, but my dad was a serial killer and my mom was literally Satan, instead of just figuratively like Lucrezia, so. I mean. I kind of get what you're going through.

Per @firebirdeternal: Tarvek and Anevka growing up with "you're allergic to holy water" and not questioning it until a little later because What.

And then they test it and it's like "yeah, no, there's a rash now. That stung. What the fuck."

It INFURIATES Gil in Paris when Tarvek tells him that's a thing, because there's nothing chemically different about Holy water and regular water. But no, this is somehow happening.

It gets logged in medical journals as a Valois genetic thing because, well, Mom was like that too, right?

One time they both go into a church for an Adventure and Gil is very annoyed to find that Tarvek is like. Faintly smoking. It smells like burnt hair in here.

Gil: What smells like burnt hairgel? Tarvek: [glares]

Gil decides that it must be something particular to the church, like a fungus or something in the stone, contaminating the air and water so it only LOOKS like the holiness is what's setting off reactions.

It is not.

Tarvek once got into an argument with someone and ate a slab of raw, completely uncooked meat as a power move.

SVV seems to work perfectly. Everyone is fine. We get the ‘you fight like ducks’ moment.

And then Tarvek bursts into flames, and everyone panics because no they fixed this what the fuck is he still infected with Hogfarb’s oh my god... and then everything settles down and he's perfectly fine. Not a scratch on him, no longer turning funny colors. Completely unharmed. He's in a nicely tailored suit and looks faintly stunned

"I just met my dead mom, who's apparently Satan. She told me that after I died the first time just now, I should be harder to kill later, especially with fire, because now there's more demon and less mortal and guys I think I'm going crazy." "Is that a martini?" Tarvek looks down. "Apparently."

Tarvek starts just. Randomly setting things on fire by glaring too hard and has to tone it down. Meanwhile, Agatha and Gil are having crises about how he's somehow getting PRETTIER.

Is he faintly glowing? Maybe!

Gil handles it by angrily sniping at Tarvek about how of COURSE he's an evil little rat with a background like that.

Tarvek just wants a nap and to forget this ever happened. Many people are sworn to secrecy. It's very awkward.

Still, SVV did something, for handwave-y reasons, and so they're linked now. Gil and Agatha both getting tiny flashes of the same shenanigans.

They get none of the powers. They just keep getting Weird Shit.

Other characters with divine influence are like "Did you.... did you make a pact with a demon?" "What no that's our boyfriend."

Tho tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if a Heterodyne did sign a contract with a demon at some point in exchange for like. Materials. A hundred souls sacrificed in exchange for some succubus blood. Thanks!

Tarvek and Othar: Falling out of CW as in canon. Tarvek: WHAT THE HELL SINCE WHEN DO I HAVE WINGS HIDE THIS BEFORE I GET BOOTED FROM THE LINE FOR THE THRONE

IDK where Anevka is during all this. I think she might have decided to go sleep her way through the courts of the Ice Tsars. Vacation, y'know?

Othar after he's decided to make Tarvek his new Heroic Apprentice: AH, my poor afflicted young friend, it's noble of you to go against the dark nature of your tragic heritage like this. Tarvek: I hate you. I wish I could hate you to death. But you have a point. I shouldn't let my father's blood limit what I strive for in life. Othar: I... I thought your mother was... Tarvek: I know what I said.

Tarvek: Also you can't tell ANYONE about that, I can't have them thinking I'm not actually in line for the Storm King's throne.

He does admittedly have to like. Explain things to Grandma.

Terabithia is Tarvek’s maternal grandmother so this is supremely awkward. That said...

Grandma fondly remembers her pregnancy cravings; bone marrow and sulfur.

"Yeah so, my mother, your daughter, was... maybe actually Satan? But retconned into your life?" "Tarvek, darling, please. I figured that out half a century ago."

TARVEK ACCIDENTALLY FINDS HIM HIMSELF WEIRDLY INTENSE AT CONTRACTS

I mean that honestly just Tracks about Tarvek anyways? But like moreso.

He just. Writes something up and there's things getting signed or shook on and then the person tries to break the contract and either suddenly catch fire or are deeply unlucky for a set amount of time.

And Tarvek's just standing there like "how in the FUCK did I do that?"

Severity of infernal punishment depends on the severity of the breach of contract.

Tarvek finds out that Anevka's been convincing rich people to sign their souls over to her. It's a fun challenge. She keeps them in jars.

They can still remotely pilot their bodies but like. They can't TELL anyone what happened.

Satan: I'm going to go make babies and now everyone else has to deal with the consequences.

Anevka's living up to that whole "princess of hell" vibe. Tarvek's just like "nope nope nope I want the storm throne, not the hell throne, BYE MOM."

Satan's just feeling sinself down in hell like "awwww look at my babies go, aren't they adorable?"

Tarvek: Anevka, what... first off, how did you figure it out? Anevka: Well, I temporarily died when father put me in the machine, and... I can't say that hell kicked me out because they were afraid I'd take over, but mother DID say she'd rather I play about with human governments instead of Hell's. Tarvek: Okay, cool cool cool. What after you planning to DO with all these souls? Anevka: They make for some lovely reading lamps, don't they?

(Anevka absolutely sets herself the goal of acquiring new titles that rival her old ones, or even surpass them. She just black widows her way through Europa.)

I just want someone (probably Snackleford) to ascend, take one look at Tarvek, and run SCREAMING.

Tarvek still needed to be anchored to Higgs, because Tarvek is Baby.

Gil is eventually in a relationship with an Eternal God Queen and the Literal Son of Satan.

Family dinners can include ALL the in-laws if you duck down to hell! - You borrow Bill from... probably heaven, maybe purgatory. - You have Lu and Aaronev and Satan already there, though the first two... well. Aaronev and Lu get invited to dinner but they have to eat by themselves at the kiddy table and nobody talks to them or acknowledges their presence. After all, this is hell, and what better punishment for Lu than to be completely ignored, and for Aaronev to see Lu at her worst and be reminded that he gave everything for this horrible, horrible person who isn't even pretending to care about him anymore. - Zanta and Klaus get invited via portal. - Anevka saunters in with a blood-soaked dress and a complaint about militant demon-hunters refusing to let her go shopping for a new pair of shoes. - Zeetha tagged along with the OT3. (She can't wait to see this situation explode.)

Oh God, Satan is actually second place as far as good parenting goes.

Well, actually, fourth. Because Adam and Lilith. But second as far as bio parents go. 1. Zanta 2. Satan 3. Klaus 4/5. Lu and Aaronev N/A. Bill

Someone (Anevka) decides to stir the pot and invites Von Pinn, Terabithia, Bang.

Bang is basically Gil’s older sister, right? Right.

This is Zanta meeting Bang for the first time! Zanta is just: "It's so nice to meet my husband's adopted daughter." Klaus freezes. Bang freezes. Gil is the only one who is just. "Yeah." Meanwhile Zeetha is crying with laughter off to the side because both of them deserve this. (Zanta would legit love Bang though.)

Agatha: Tarvek, I think DuPree is-- Tarvek: Hitting on my sister? I know. Agatha: On your mom, actually. Tarvek: NO!

Also I do love the idea of like. Nobody tells Bang they're inviting her. She just wakes up in Hell like. "Ah. Yes. Fair enough."

Satan: Oh no no no my dear, you're here as a guest. Besides as well as you'd fit you're not one of mine, you've got other things waiting for you. Bang: Okay, but I love the decor. And is that Cheesecake?

Bang’s family has their own evil god in the novels, but! Bang DID pick on Tarvek a lot in Paris. Satan cares more than Anevka does. Bang might get the sexy punishment.

I feel like the fact that no permanent damage was done and it taught Tarvek a lot of things means Satan isn't gonna be all that upset about it.

And let's be real, if there's a character in GG who could look the literal Christian devil in the eye and be like "Yeah I tortured your kid, what're you going to do about it?" it's Bang.

Even Satan doesn't know what to do or think about Othar.

He sure is here! As Anevka’s arm candy! Nobody knows what to do except Anevka herself, who just wants to be Smug.

(What's that scene from Phineas and Ferb that's the mad scientist trapping the platypus within the rules of polite dining at a fine restaurant? Like he can't make a scene because that would be rude?) (That. Othar would dearly love to start a fight, but it's a Family Dinner. You're only allowed to fight verbally at those.)

(Othar isn't even fighting Satan, he just wants to argue with Klaus.) (And maybe fanboy in Bill's direction a bit).

[jingyismom]

got tagged by the wonderful @mylastbraincql to post 10 Things About Myself, which, are there even 10 things other than cql and writing fanfiction??? let’s find out

1. i don’t want to be one of those people who are like ~i love languages~ but...i do. oops. i’m only fluent in english and french (my college degree), but i’ve put work into at least the basics of...well. this is under a cut so let’s just go: latin (a whole minor’s worth), greek (classical and modern), mandarin, american sign language, spanish, german, sanskrit, and arabic. i particularly love medieval french. i kind of wanted to be a linguist but academia is a hellscape, so i’m just a hobbyist language learner and that’s pretty fun. i need to really work on my spanish and start korean next, but right now my brain is deep in mandarin mode (thanks c-dramas).

2. i wish i had the tenacity and drive to be a musician. i love playing music, my mom started teaching me when i was 4 so i should be super good right? wrong. i still play piano like a 4yo. string bass is my ~instrument but it’s been years since i played it seriously. i am mediocre at guitar and an enthusiastic but unstudied singer. maybe some day i’ll put real work in again but for now that executive dysfunction’s a real bitch, so even thought i am a Music Person, singing in the car is about as wild as i get.

3. i was a substitute teacher for 4...5? years. 4 years of regular substituting here after 1 year of working as a language assistant/substitute english teacher in france. teaching is excellent fun and i love it dearly but the field of education is currently pretty soul-crushing in the US, so i have been trying to figure out what...to do.

4. the town where i lived in france was where jeanne d’arc was captured (i was already a huge fan, and getting to kneel where she prayed her last free prayer was...something. i’m not even religious), and one town over from pierrefonds, the castle where they shot bbc’s merlin. alas, they had just finished shooting the final season when i got there. but it really does Look Like That. once, when i was bringing some friends to see it, we missed our stop and got off the bus at a countryside cemetery (i am a goth, this is my jam), and walked back to pierrefonds, since it was a sunny day. until it started hailing. we took refuge in a spooky, empty church from the 1100s and got to explore some of its catacombs and reliquary. it was an absolutely perfect day.

5. i have never not been a Big Fan of something. i have an entire shelf of Tolkien volumes that has lived in my room since the 6th grade. i used to go to warped tour and san diego comic con every year. i have slept on the sidewalk in line for things...many, many times. but this is somehow the first time i’m...trying to participate in the fan community? trying to contribute and talk to people? it’s wildly nerve-wracking but also SO rewarding because everyone? is so? nice??? i love you all

6. i’m a distant cousin of George Gordon, Lord Byron, and EXCEEDINGLY proud of this fact. he was so ridiculous, and stupid, and marvelous, and queer. sometimes i’m like, it couldn’t have been wilde? or shakespeare? but i do love my horrible cousin. it was shocking studying in athens where they have actual monuments and museum exhibits dedicated to him...i was like...this guy? this drug-addled sex addict? okay...okay, good for you, cuz.

7. really all i want is to make people laugh. i feel like i come across weirdly stiff on the internet, and i have apparently horribly intimidating vibes with new people, but really...i am basically just jack black. i don’t mean that positively or negatively it is just neutrally true. i am a clown.

8. i wish i had cool physical skills like martial arts or dance or even a sport but...my body is...uncooperative. i am not necessarily clumsy or uncoordinated i am just Too Tired. oh, and also i have a funky little arm birth defect which is mostly unnoticeable, just makes me a bit awkward and painful. instead i do grandma things like knitting and sewing, which are cool in their own way. it’s very satisfying to make something with your hands. i’ve made an entire (simple) ren faire costume and edwardian ballgown, as well as lots of various odds and ends. oh and i’m pretty good at makeup! i did wedding makeup for a friend, and not in a “wedding of questionable taste” kind of way. i did lots of research and several practice runs and it was all a very classy vintage affair.

9. if you ask me to pick between books and movies i Cannot. i just...love stories. i love seeing them and hearing them and reading them and telling them. there’s nothing better or more important than stories. whether it’s pacific rim or hamlet, philadelphia story or dogsbody, i cannot live without it.

10. i used to work as a street character at a renaissance faire. please do not hold this against me. if you want some ABSOLUTELY WILD stories (”baaa means no”), just ask

this was wildly difficult and i feel like it swings wildly from depressing and self-effacing to ridiculous bragging but i would like to see my mutuals do it anyway! i’m just gonna randomly tag @valarinde @milkcrates @universesvisiting @cendiar @habibinasir @fapamir if you want a fun little distraction but seriously if you see this and want to do it, i tagged you! you’re tagged!

[fericita-s]

The Bloom Is On The Rye

Henry was a man and none of his gifts were trifles, starting with the firm arm around her waist saving her from certain death and the blanket around her shoulders to keep out the cold now.  The ring on her finger that he had probably been saving for a woman he loved and admired rather than one he had to take care of like a tiresome beast of burden, even though he was too nice to say so.

An 8K-ish Mercy Street Emmry story (with a dash of Phoster) I’ll be posting in 6 parts, starting today.  Also on AO3.

@jomiddlemarch​  wrote In Having New Eyes for Mercy Street Advent, Oregon Trail crossover day.  When I freaked out about how much I loved it she encouraged me to write more, even sending me ideas and brainstorming about various directions the story could take.  So here it is! Thanks for letting me play!

@the-spaztic-fantastic​ continues to make everything I write better, from brainstorming to beta-ing to being an enthusiastic reader.  Thank you.

At night Henry read aloud from the Book of Psalms.  Their first evening together he had cleared his throat awkwardly and asked if she would like to hear.  Emma knew it was his way of telling her he didn’t expect a wedding night so she said yes, an easier yes than any of the others she had given that day.   Henry’s voice was measured, like he was considering every word as he spoke it, and soothing, like he wanted the words to comfort her in the way he would not with his touch.

The words reached her, more than they ever had inside the four walls of a church or though the short verses she embroidered on pillows.  Now she thought David’s words could be her own. Give ear to my words, oh Lord, and consider my groaning.  Let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them ever sing for joy, and spread your protection over them. Sometimes the psalms were angry and sometimes joyous and sometimes despairing, but always wanting to find hope.  

And Emma was all of those things too. The expanse of land was breathtaking in its beauty and she could hardly deny that the Creator God who made it was powerful. 

But the land was also terrifying and unfair, and she sometimes wondered if God was too.

***

“Thank you,” she said as Henry put a blanket around her shoulders.  He didn’t say anything in return but he did sit next to her, their sides touching just barely, their feet hanging over the side of the wagon.  The campfire was several feet away and the light from the stars and moon was bright enough that she could probably see his face if she dared turn and look.

“At home we had servants.”

“Oh,” said Henry, moving slightly so that their sides were no longer pressed together at all, and Emma mourned the loss.  It had felt warm, nice even to be touched, light though it had been.  There had been so little of it since her family died. “We’ll probably have to keep our own house, even after this trek is over. Though perhaps in a few years we could hire someone to help.”

“I only meant - that’s why I don’t know what to do.  But I’ll learn.”

“I should have told you more, before we married. And I don’t expect you to do all that.  I managed fine as a bachelor. I can do for us both.”

“Then what would I contribute?” she asked, now looking at him and smiling so he would know she wasn’t aggrieved.  It was a new world to her but she’d seen enough to know that everyone had to have a use.  Nothing could exist for only beauty and perhaps it was a mercy Alice hadn’t realized that yet before her end came. 

Perhaps it would have made Jimmy into a man who did more than ruin his family.  

“I’m sure you have many talents,” Henry said and Emma was grateful he spoke.  Not just for the confidence or kindness it showed, but for pulling her from the darker thoughts that had started to intrude.

“I can plan a party.  Embroider a handkerchief. Paint a landscape.” 

“Could you sew a dress? I can probably get some calico or muslin when we go through Fort Kearney. I know you’ve only the one dress since - “ he paused and took her hand, hesitantly covering it with both of hers. She smiled at him, so he would know it was welcome, and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders with her other hand, shivering a little. 

“I can manage that.  And I can pay for it, too. My trunk with our sewing notions; I still have it. Mother hid some brooches among the buttons and I’m wearing the pearl necklace. We could sell them.  There’s a leontine watch chain too, but we had to sell the watch.”  Emma felt the drop pearl pendant warm against her chest and thought of the brooches carefully wrapped in bits of fabric.  The cabochon garnet in its decorative frame and the less valuable hand painted one, enamel and round, the size of a coat button. Her mother had painted it herself and kept it stowed away from the grit of their dusty travel, but Emma remembered seeing her sit with it that first night on the trail, turning it over in her hand and then bringing it to her cheek like a kiss. 

“No,” he said, and his fingers moved to his mother’s ring, loose on her finger. He ran his thumb over it and Emma shivered again.  “You keep that. You should keep something of your family. To give to your own children someday.”

Her hand fell gently into her lap as he drew his hands back and Emma wondered if he, like her, was suddenly thinking about what it would mean for her to have children someday.  Was he regretting this arrangement? This marriage where he barely touched her?  

“Your mother’s ring - was there someone you planned to give it to?”

“No. I brought a few of her things, without much of a plan for their use.  Small things to remember her by.  And you, was there someone for you?” 

“I thought so, before we left.  But when our family fortunes turned, he did too. I’m not longing for him.”  She could feel him looking at her and it made her feel warm. Like she had admitted too much.

“Good.  I mean, I wouldn’t want you to have more grief to bear than you already have.” 

Neither spoke as Silas Bullen began playing his fiddle from across the circle of wagons, a jaunty version of “Yankee Doodle” that Mrs. Brannan’s voice soon joined.  Emma could picture her parents listening to it - her father inviting her mother to dance, her mother complaining that a song with a Virginian like Washington in the lyrics would use the word ‘Yankee,’ but smiling and taking his hand anyway.

“I’m not crying about you. About being married to you. When I cry.  I just miss them, that’s all,” Emma said, wishing she was still wearing her bonnet so Henry couldn’t see the tears springing to her eyes.  

“I know,” he said. “I understand.” And she believed that he did, passing her handkerchiefs all day when her tears fell and not mentioning the cause. This time, after pressing a handkerchief into her fist, he also put his arm around her, running his hand up and down her arm, making shushing noises like she had heard him use with the oxen when he unyoked them for the night. She could feel his heart beating against her back as he pulled her tighter against his chest.

It was nice talking this way.  Like he was a friend and could maybe be something more soon. Like they could get through this together. Emma knew how to tease and cajole and even dare boys into showing their affection.  She had received trifles such as a paint set or a bouquet of flowers someone’s servant had grown in a hothouse.  

But Henry was a man and none of his gifts were trifles, starting with the firm arm around her waist saving her from certain death and the blanket around her shoulders to keep out the cold now.  The ring on her finger that he had probably been saving for a woman he loved and admired rather than one he had to take care of like a tiresome beast of burden, even though he was too nice to say so.

Author’s Note:  I did research but only included information that would help Henry and Emma in their romantic pursuit of each other, occasionally eschewing actual facts and realities to make the story more compelling.  For example, most travelers on the trail (called emigrants or overlanders) used tents or slept in the open by the campfire since their wagons were too loaded with supplies.  But I needed Henry and Emma to have some privacy or else he would never ever make a move and no one wants that story.  Henry reads here from Psalm 5, a psalm of David.  Emma’s jewelry was of the type popular at the time; the leontine style was named after a famous actress and was made of a woven golden ribbon with a tassel on one end and a watch hook on the other.

[godsporncollection]

Sunday GC Sessions Summary

(long version) (personal commentary in parenthesis)

M Russell Ballard

List of how the second coming is described followed by a huge list of the very obvious things wrong with the world right now. 

We pray for you. 

Remember to pray. Pray lots, and for lots of people, because the leaders of the world need divine inspiration. 

Quotes the lord's prayer. 

Pray for everyone, even people you don't like. 

(Do deaf people sign their prayers, when praying alone? What about when they pray in small, maybe family, groups?) 

Prayer will help us by making feel better. 

Pray everywhere you go. 

Personal story of being in pain from a surgery on the hand; prayer helped the pain.

Lisa L Harkness

Story of a child jumping into a lake and feeling she needed help, even though she was safe. Sometimes we do this too, because we can't see that we are safe with god. 

Biblical story of JC falling asleep in the boat that entered a storm and the disciples got scared and asked him to save them. 

Recent events can leave us feeling lost and afraid, but we should have faith in god.

Ulisses Soares

Seek JC in every thought and follow him with all our heart. 

Metaphor of magnet + metal object. Magnetic force holds objects tightly, but looses that power when the object is far away. 

Temptation will fade when we continue to resist it. 

JC told JS when in prison "let thy bowels also be full of charity towards all men and women, and to the household of faith, and let virtue garnish thy thoughths unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of god. The holy ghost shall be thy constant companion, and thy scepter an unchanging scepter of righteousness and truth." 

If you fall into temptation, there is hope. 

Story of friend who fell into temptation. He was sad. 

Prodigal son story.

Carlos A Godoy

I believe in angels. They're important. Some are here on earth. I'm gonna talk about those. 

I converted at 16, after two angels (sister missionaries) introduced me to the gospel at a church activity. 

I met another angel at youth conference. Her squad became my squad. 

Then I met two other angels; my seminary teacher and young men president. 

"Thanks to all these angels and many others I encountered during those important early years, I received enough srength to remain on the covenant path as I gained a spiritual witness of the truth." 

"Please, please do not give up on your efforts to be part of this big family. It is the true church of JC. When it comes to your happiness and salvation, it is always worth the effort to keep trying. It is worth the effort to adjust your lifestyle and traditions. The lord is aware of the challenges you face. He knows you, he loves you, and I promise he will send angels to help you."

Neil L Andersen

Jc's resume. 

"A recent study revealed that in the last 10 years, 30 million people in the US have stepped away from believing in the divinity of JC. Looking worldwide, another study predicts that in the decades ahead, more than twice as many will leave christianity than those who will embrace it." 

Use the correct name of the church and talk about JC more. We have to talk more about JC because the world is talking about him less.

Russell M Nelson

'Israel' means 'let god prevail'. 

Israel's descendants stoned the prophets. (...) 

My grandkid's wife was sad that her father was dying, but I told her she was being near-sighted. She felt better after looking at the big picture of god's plan. 

I greive for black people. 

(I can't listen to any more of this asshole, sorry.)

AFTERNOON SESSION 

Henry B Eyring

"My hope is to give encouragement when life seems especially difficult and uncertain. For some of you, that time is now. If not, such a time will come." 

Personal story of pulling weeds as a child and the frustration of the weeds breaking instead of coming out. Mother said "oh, Hal, of course it's hard; it's supposed to be. Life is a test." 

Story of us choosing to come to earth and satan disagreeing and getting followers. "Now, he tries to cause as many as he can to turn away from god during this mortal life." In the spirit world, we must have decided that whatever hardships we were going to face, "the forces of good would be overwhelmingly greater." 

Two quotes that say that god will be with us, and will help us, even in our darkest hours. 

God occasionally shows me the next couple of steps, but never a glimpse of the far future. 

Also, we need to help others. 

Another story of mother, who "all her life, she felt effects of the trials of illness. In her last 10 years of life, she required multiple operations. But through all, she proved faithful to the lord." "The last speaker [at her funeral] was elder Spencer W Kimball. After saying something of her trials and her faithfulness, he said essentially this: 'some of you may wonder why Mildred had to suffer so much and so long. I will tell you why. It was because the lord wanted to polish her a little more."

Jeremy R Jaggi

My youngest brother died two years ago. "We found comfort in the words of elder Neil L Anderson in general conference the week before Chad died: 'In the crucible of earthly trials, patiently move forward, and the savior's healing power will bring you light, understanding, peace, and hope.'" We'll be with him again, but losing him hurt. 

James 1:2. 

We thought 2020 would be all joy. Shit happened, but we're determined to see joy in this year anyway. 

Chapter 6 of 'Preach My Gospel'. 

"Blessed are the meek (etc)". 

Many unsourced quotes saying that the more you seek/follow/believe in JC, the happier you will be. 

Daughter, Emma, is a missionary. "[Emma] asked us to connect [online] with friends she was teaching [in the Netherlands]... We invited them to join our weekly online... study... All have become our friends." They've all converted. 

Nelson recently said "Voluntary fast offerings from our members have increased, as well as voluntary contributions to our humanitarian funds." 

"My brother Chad's passing came just a few months after our release from presiding over the Utah Ogden mission... Of all the 417 missions we could have been assigned to, we were assigned to... a 30-minute drive to Chad's home. Chad's cancer was diagnosed after we received our mission assignment. Even in the most trying circumstance, we knew that our heavenly father was mindful of us."

Gary E Stevenson

I was serving a mission in Japan. Kimball was speaking in Tokyo. I wanted to go. It was a long commute, so the mission president said no, but the rest of the branch went, so we were alone. Kimball announced a temple in Tokyo. I was disappointed to miss it. 

This is like the even deeper disappointment people today experience due to covid. 

How do we move forward? Consider the first verse of the BoM. 

Wife and I met online with many missionaries who still managed to do lots of ministering, despite covid restrictions. 

Think of "JS, languishing in Liberty Jail, feeling abandoned and forsaken, then hearing the words of the lord: 'these things shall be for thy good' and 'god shall be with you forever.'" 

"We, too, can draw parallels, as individual members and as a church, in the way in which we have been highly favored of the lord during the challenging times we have encountered during the past several months." 

"Let [these examples] strengthen your testimony of the seership of our living prophet, who prepared us with adjustments before any hint of a pandemic, enabling us to endure the challenges that have come." 

List of ways that we have been told to prepare. 

Story of a young woman who was just barely able to go to the temple right before leaving for her mission.

Milton Da Rocha Camargo

Gave his entire backstory before getting around to the topic: prayer. 

"An important part of heavenly father's plan is the opportunity to communicate with him anytime we want." 

"Every one that asketh, receiveth (etc)." 

"Recording our impressions is an important part of receiving. It helps us recall, review, and re-feel what the lord is teaching us." 

I like it when I have strong feelings after praying, but, more often, we're likely to hear the "still, small voice of the lord whispering to our mind and heart, 'I am here. I love you.'" 

"Revelation often comes when we are in the act of doing good."

Dale G Renlund

Can I be a better person? 

And "how can I, as a flawed person, qualify to 'dwell with god in a state of never-ending happiness'?" 

"Good deeds are not sufficient. Salvation is not earned... Left to our own devices, the prospect of returning to live in god's presence is hopeless. Without the blessings that come from heavenly father and JC, we can never do enough or be enough by ourselves... Because of and through JC, we can become enough." 

"We can be redeemed and stand clean and pure before god" by the ordinances of the gospel. 

"Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with thy god." 

*Jewish appropriation* 

Story of someone who had to remind someone "Dr. Jones, you became a physician to care for people and work to heal them. You didn't become a physician to judge them [on a self-infilcted wound]. If you don't understand the difference, you have no right to train at [Johns Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore, MD]." 

Don't think you're above others. 

"To be christlike, a person loves mercy... gracious, kind and honorable. These individuals treat everyone with love and understanding, regardless of characteristics such as race, gender, religious affiliation, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status, and tribal, clan, or national differences."

Kelly R Johnson

Story of daughter who set the microwave to cook [instead of timer] for 30 min. It caught on fire. This is because microwaves need something in them to absorb the energy. 

"Our entire microwave went up in flames and burned because there was nothing on the inside. Likewise, those who have faith and the word of god deep in their hearts will be able to absorb and overcome the fiery darts which the adversary will surely send to destroy us." 

(As someone raised with a fire extiniguisher in the kichen, I feel the sudden urge to suggest this to anyone with children) 

(I have no idea what else he said because he used the word 'power' 34 times in his short talk, and it lost all meaning)

Jeffrey R Holland

Covid sucks and it's going on too long. 

We want to know when our struggles will be over. 

I'm now speaking about "those who would like to be married and aren't or who are married and with their marriage were a little more celestial. I speak of those who have to deal with the unwanted appearance of a serious medical condition, perhaps an uncurable one. Or face a life long battle with a genetic defect that has no remedy. I speak of the continuing struggle with emotional and mental health challenges that weigh heavily on the souls of so many who suffer with them and on the hearts of those who suffer with them. I speak of the poor, whom the savior told us never to forget. I speak of you, waiting for the return of a child no matter what the age, who has chosen a path different from the one you prayed he or she would take." Plus economic, political,and social concerns. 

Your prayers "are heard and they are answered, though perhaps not at the time or in the way that we wanted." They'll be answered when and how god thinks they should be. 

We shouldn't ask for a stress-free life; struggles make us worthy to live with god.

Russell M Nelson

"We live in a glorious age, foreseen by prophets for centuries... Despite the world's commotion, the lord would have us look toward the future with joyful anticipation... The gathering of Israel moves forward. The lord JC directs the affairs of his church and it will achieve it's divine objectives. The challenge for you and me is to make certain that each of us will achieve his or her divine potential." 

Let JC be your 'new normal' by "repenting daily. Seek to be increasingly pure in thought, word, and deed. Minister to others. Keep an eternal perspective. Magnify your callings. And... live each day so that you are more prepared to meet your maker." 

Six new temples: Tarawa, Kiribati; Port Vila, Vanuato; Lindon, Utah; Greater Guatamala; Sao Paulo East, Brazil; and Santa Cruz, Bolivia.

[austenmarriage]

New Post has been published on Austen Marriage

New Post has been published on http://austenmarriage.com/giving-thanks-with-austen-2/

Giving Thanks with Austen

This blog originally appeared last year. With my blog now scheduled on the fourth Thursday of each month—Thanksgiving in the U.S.—I decided to reprise it.

Thanksgiving makes me wonder whether there was any formal giving of thanks in Jane Austen’s work. The November U.S. holiday has spread to most of the Americas. The English have a more general harvest-related tradition of providing bread and other food to the poor, often through the church. That tradition was extant in the Regency and continues now.

Though today’s American celebration is secular in nature, the practice has spiritual roots. It was religious settlers in Virginia and Massachusetts who began the celebration. Most Americans know the tradition of the Pilgrims inviting the native tribes to join in. It was the Indians who provided the food that enabled most of the early colonies to survive the first desperate years.

President George Washington created the first official Thanksgiving in 1789 “as a day of public thanksgiving and prayer, to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many and signal favours of Almighty God.” President Abraham Lincoln memorialized the date as the fourth Thursday in November, beginning in 1863, when, in the middle of the Civil War, he proclaimed a national day of “Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.”

Austen’s family was religious, of course. Her father and two brothers were clergymen. Her works contain strong, though not didactic, moral strains. I wondered: Did any of her characters ever directly express thanks—to God, to Providence, to the universe? Did anyone express gratitude in a way that recognized any higher power?

I could not find any direct use of “giving” or “offering” thanks in any of Austen’s six novels. Most of her novels contain fifty or sixty ordinary thanks each. Persuasion is the least thankful with only eighteen, but it includes the most fervent. Most of the thanks are a polite reflex to ordinary behavior or a specific response to a good deed performed by another.

“Thank God!” occurs once or twice per book. The sense is usually general. Sometimes the phrase is a positive and sometimes a negative. In Persuasion, Mrs. Croft thanks God that as a naval wife she is blessed with excellent health and was seldom seasick on the ocean. Perversely, William Elliot writes “Thank God!” that he can stop using the name “Walter”—the name of Anne’s father—as a middle name. Anne Elliot stiffens upon learning the insult to her family.

“Thank God!” is a remark that is canceled out in Northanger Abbey. Catherine Morland’s brother James writes her to say “Thank God!” that he is done with Isabella Thorpe, who is now pursuing Captain Tilney. The next post brings a letter from Isabella, telling Catherine “Thank God” that she’s leaving the “vile” city of Bath. By now dumped by the Captain, she doesn’t know that Catherine knows what’s up. Isabella pleads “some misunderstanding” with James and asks Catherine to help: “Your kind offices will set all right: he is the only man I ever did or could love, and I trust you will convince him of it.” Catherine doesn’t.

The only real “Thank God!”, as an appeal to the Deity, comes in Persuasion after Captain Wentworth’s inattention contributes to Louisa’s fall and concussion: “The tone, the look, with which ‘Thank God!’ was uttered by Captain Wentworth, Anne was sure could never be forgotten by her; nor the sight of him afterwards, as he sat near a table, leaning over it with folded arms and face concealed, as if overpowered by the various feelings of his soul, and trying by prayer and reflection to calm them.”

Everyone’s prayers are answered. Louisa mends and becomes engaged to Captain Benwick. Wentworth is free to marry Anne.

A deeply thankful attitude does exist with two of Austen’s characters. Readers who pause to think can probably guess the two. Beyond the village poor in the background, which characters are most in distress and most likely to be thankful for any relief?

We might think first of Mrs. Smith from Persuasion, who had the “two strong claims” on Anne “of past kindness and present suffering.” Her physical and financial straits are dire, yet “neither sickness nor sorrow seemed to have closed her heart or ruined her spirits.” Mrs. Smith, however, is more shrewd than thankful, using Anne’s marriage to help end her own suffering.

What character, living on the margins, has a level of energy that often sets into motion her active tongue? We find her in Emma:

“Full of thanks, and full of news, Miss Bates knew not which to give quickest.”

When Mr. Knightley sends her a sack of apples and the Woodhouse family sends her a full hindquarter of tender Hartfield pork, Miss Bates responds with the sunniest appreciation: “Oh! my dear sir, as my mother says, our friends are only too good to us. If ever there were people who, without having great wealth themselves, had every thing they could wish for, I am sure it is us.” She might be auditioning for a role in Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

In contrast, the social-climbing new vicar’s wife, Mrs. Elton, feels thankful in a prerogative way. “I always say a woman cannot have too many resources—and I feel very thankful that I have so many myself as to be quite independent of society.”

If anyone has the right to feel a lack of thanks in life, it is Fanny Price of Mansfield Park. When she is not being forgotten, it is to provide some service for someone else. When she is not being ignored, it is to be abused by her aunt, Mrs. Norris. Just about every word that can convey melancholy, sadness, or anguish serves to repeatedly describe her.

She feels misery at least eight times; some variety of pain at least ten times; wretchedness half a dozen times. The best she normally manages is to feel both pain and pleasure, four times. She is oppressed three times and suffers stupefaction once. Her circumstances and personality leave her in a “creep mouse” state of mind. She trembles a dozen times; she cries a dozen times and sobs at least four other. The stress is so great that she comes close to fainting at least three times and is ready to sink once; she suffers fright or is frightened six times; she reacts with horror or to something horrible five times.

Yet for all her misery, and though she lacks a sunny disposition, she manages to look on the sunny side of life.

Fanny feels gratitude at least fifteen times, for things small and large. Gratitude for her cousin Edmund tending to her when she first comes to live with her wealthy relatives. For his providing her a horse to ride. For her uncle once letting her use the carriage to go to dinner. Even gratitude once “to be spared from aunt Norris’s interminable reproaches.”

Kindness comes up about 125 times in the book. The most common use again relates to Edmund: his kindness to her throughout, and his encouragement of others to be kind to her. Fanny can even feel grateful toward Henry Crawford, despite his character flaws, for his kindness to her brother and, a couple of times, for his kindness to her.

It seems to be a fundamental aspect of human nature that those with the least to appreciate in life treasure what they have the most. Austen’s treatment of Miss Bates and Fanny does not, I think, reflect a conscious attempt at moral teaching. Their attitudes flow directly from the women’s character. Fanny and Miss Bates are gentle souls with big hearts. They give thanks naturally for the joy of existence.

So should we all.

—

The Marriage of Miss Jane Austen, which traces love from a charming courtship through the richness and complexity of marriage and concludes with a test of the heroine’s courage and moral convictions, is now complete and available from Amazon and Jane Austen Books.

[crue-sixx]

Always A Bridesmaid, Never A Bride

Title: Always A Bridesmaid, Never A Bride

Fandom: The Dirt

Summary: The reader is Vince's long time friend (who he's had a crush on forever), who he is very fond of and who is fond of him as well.  It's been a few years since they last seen each other and is indeed a shock at how much she's changed.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse, murder and suicide, suicide attempt

In high school, things were much easier.  You had your life all set out for you-meet a nice young man at church, marry him and have his babies and get a part-time job to help care for the kids and upkeep the house.  As with any school, it did have the cliques and yours was the religion club that everyone dubbed "The Jesus Freaks" but that wasn't entirely true.  The club welcomed people of all religions, most of them just happened to be Christian or Catholic with a hint of Jewish people in there.  The purpose of the club was to research other religions to help the members understand the main aspects of them rather than make ignorant assumptions.

It was there you had met a surfer boy-brunette, a natural tan who had a very good singing voice.  He was in a band, making him irresistible to the ladies.  Well, saying that you met him in high school wasn't accurate.  You actually met for the first time in third grade where he acted like a gentleman with you.  He held open doors and kissed your hand whenever he led you through them.  The teachers thought it was the cutest thing and informed both your parents. 

As you grew up, he changed-not for the better either.  You and him always stayed friends and since your families lived next door to each other he mistook your house for his when he was trying to sneak in.  The layout was identical so where your bedroom was on the ground floor near the back of the house was where his room was in his own house.  More than a few times he'd climbed through your window thinking it was his and flopped down on your bed next to you in a drunken or drugged up stupor, and you were a heavy sleeper by nature so you didn't feel him crawl into bed with you until you woke up to start your day.

The first time it happened, you let out a yelp in surprise and your father started banging on your door with "Y/N?!  What's going on in there?!" the noise had scared Vince awake and it took him a minute to realize where he was. 

You motioned for him to stay quiet and you answered "Just a spider, Daddy!" you then thumped your foot and shouted "Got it!"

Your father sighed in relief and said "Sweet Jesus girl, I thought that Wharton boy was in there!" Vince gave you a look and you mouthed that you'd tell him later at school. 

However, when school did come around and you tried to talk to him, he wouldn't give you the time of day.  This got you sneers from the other girls that hung around him and he caught the look of hurt in your face and he closed his eyes in frustration.  He was being a horse's ass to the one girl he actually liked romantically.  He was always attracted to your innocence, to him you were like Bambi.  After school he walked you home, but just because it was on the way to his house too.  "Hey...about earlier..." he started, but you cut him off.

"So now it's okay to talk to me when your whores aren't around?" you said sarcastically.  He winced, knowing full well he deserved it.

"Y/N, I have a reputation to uphold!  I'm a ladies man!" he laughed, but you didn't think it was funny.

"We've been friends since the third grade and THIS is how you treat me?" you turned to go into your house when you added "Maybe the next time you climb into my bedroom I won't be so willing to lie to my father!" you then slammed the door in his face.  He was kicking himself as he awkwardly went to his own house to brood over it.

The next week he mistook your room for his again, but you were awake working on a project for class when you heard your window open.  He wasn't that drunk, just a little buzzed when you helped him inside so he didn't make noise and wake up the whole house.  If your father knew a boy had snuck into your room the wrath of God would have fallen upon both you and Vince.  "What are you doing here, Vinny?" you softly asked him.

He giggled a little and said "I wanted to say sorry for being a jackass last week..." he gave a salute and said "sorry".

You rolled your eyes knowing he was sincere but you pitied him because he thought he needed alcohol to gather up the courage to talk to you.  "Apology accepted" you smiled at him and settled him back on your bed.  "Now sleep it off and I'll see you in the morning" you then kissed his forehead and he rolled over and began snoring softly.

He wanted so bad to kiss you that night, but he didn't.  He knew you weren't that kind of girl that he was used to fucking then leaving.  You were virtuous and beautiful in a baby deer kind of way, you still had childlike features to your face and personality.  He didn't want to corrupt that in you so he buried his feelings under booze and whatever substances he could get his hands on.  He wanted to know the feeling of you beneath him, him actually sober and making slow sweet love to you instead of a messy tumble of fucking he did with his groupies. 

When morning did come and he went into your bathroom with you to take a shower, you were alone in the house with him.  Your parents were on a mission trip with the church and your siblings were at your aunt's house.  Your parents trusted you to be alone and take care of the house without throwing a wild party.  "Don't you have any soap that isn't girly?" he snorted and poo-pooed at your lavender vanilla scented soap.

"Well I would have stocked Irish Spring if I knew I'd have a gentleman caller" you joked back to him.  You didn't even hear the front door open and your little brother David come in, until he was at the bathroom door.

"Y/N?" he called out "It's David!  I left my toothbrush in there!  I just need to get it!" the bathroom door didn't lock so you panicked and jumped in the shower with Vince, who had his back to you

"Come on in Dave!" you called back, making Vince jump and go wide eyed that you were in the shower with him, you putting a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet "Just don't look at your sister naked!"

David came in and remarked "I would wash my eyes in bleach if I saw you naked, Y/N..." you were still in your pajamas, which were now getting soaked and your brother continued "Now don't be late for school!  You have a presentation today!" he then walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him and you waited until you heard the front door close and lock when you released his mouth.

Vince went rigid when he saw you in the shower with him, this was one of the many wet dreams he had that contributed to his morning wood most days.  You two would be making passionate love among the steam and hot water and just when he was about to admit his feelings for you, he woke up and he'd have to take care of the tent he'd pitched in his sleep.

"Someone's getting bolder" he chuckled and shut off the water, grabbing a towel before she noticed his hardening length.  If it were any other girl, he'd wear his erection loud and proud but you were more than a one night stand.

"Not really" you said, hopping out and getting the floor wet from your dripping clothes "just if my brother caught me in here with a boy, he'd tell our dad and there would be hell to pay" you turned around to give him some privacy.

"You got a point there" he laughed, putting his clothes back on, hiding his growing erection in the waistband of his pants until he got home to deal with it.  "So I hear some rumors you finally got yourself a boyfriend?"

You blushed at that, having met your first love Jeremiah at the youth group at church. "Yes, his name's Jeremiah" you smiled at the thought of him.  He was a sweet boy, from a good family and had the same virtues you did.  He also wanted to wait for marriage to have sexual relations.

Vince's heart sank when you confirmed it.  He had waited too long and let his 'friends' influence get in the way of him revealing his true feelings for you.  "O-oh...." he went silent a moment and asked "Is he good to you?"

"The best" you answered truthfully.  He was the perfect gentleman in every way-he opened doors for you, pulled your chair out and in at meals and even paid when he took you out, despite your protests that you could pay sometimes too with your part time job at the grocery store.

Vince looked down only a moment and excused himself to his own room, where he relieved himself of the sexual frustration and cursed himself for not telling you how he felt sooner.  It was after school when he was done fucking his baby mama Tammi that he heard something that made his blood boil.  After they had fixed their clothes, Tammi asked him "You love Y/N, don't you?"

He paused only a moment and admitted "Yeah..."

"I know it's not my business, but I have lunch period with her about 1:30" she said nervously, stroking her pregnant belly.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he looked at her confused.

"Well, I have a morning class with her too" she twitted her fingers "And it wasn't until lunch that she had a fresh goose egg over her eye..."

This had his full attention "What? What happened?"

"She wouldn't talk about it to anyone" she shook her head "Just kept crying and saying she was sorry" Tammi was somewhat acquainted with you and from what she saw she did like you.  She had noticed the way Vince gave you longing glances in the halls at school, but he dared not speak to you with his friends and groupies around him.

He only had to think a second before he hissed "Jeremiah..."

What had happened was that Jeremiah was more than in love with you-he was obsessed.  He kept watch over your house nightly, making sure you were faithful to him.  His mind was at rest for the first week but when he saw that no good Wharten kid sneak into your window and stay the night he was more than livid.  When he finally got you alone at school before lunch he asked "Did you fuck him?"

You were taken aback, Jeremiah never cursed in front of you much less AT you.  "What are you talking about?" you asked honestly, you not knowing he'd been watching your house.

"That brunette surfer kid" he growled "I saw him sneaking into your house last night and he didn't leave until this morning!"  he was showing aggression where he had none before.

"You mean Vince?" you laughed "He's just a friend.  We live next door to each other and sometimes he mistakes my room for his and I let him sleep it off" it was an unexpected thing for him to punch you in the face.

You fell back and your eye started swelling right away.  He wasn't apologetic and he just said "Next time I see you with him, I'll make you regret ever knowing him..." in a dark tone.  He left you to pick yourself up and took yourself to the nurse, where you told your first lie.

"I fell into a doorknob" you said, trying to smile "I'm just really clumsy..."  the nurse didn't believe you for a second but she wrote what you said in the file none the less, gave you an ice pack and sent you on your way.

You had lunch next and you just broke down in tears when people asked you about it.  You couldn't say anything other than "I'm sorry" repeatedly like a lunatic. Even Vince's baby mama Tammi was concerned, but she got the same words as everyone else.

After school you were walking by yourself, your eye a scarlet letter on your face.  You held your books to your chest and walked quickly home.  You heard your name being called and when you saw Vince coming towards you, you walked quicker.  He sped up to keep pace and you ran the rest of the way home, him hot on your heels.  When you fumbled with your house key he caught up to you and spun you around.  He paused a moment when he saw your black eye, and his facial expression changed from shock, to sadness and finally rage as he asked "Did Jeremiah do that to you?"

"I can't talk to you anymore" you quickly opened the door and slammed it in his face.  You didn't want to, but you were afraid of what Jeremiah would do if he found out about even that small exchange.  Of course he was watching from the bushes across the street.  He had heard everything and what you had told him, a swell of pride filled his heart. 

The two of you graduated and moved in together, him proposing to you after graduation and you graciously accepted.  You had almost forgotten about the black eye he'd given you, until you caught a glimpse of Vince looking totally crushed a few feet behind him.  That summer is when all things went to Hell.

Four years later, you had moved to Los Angeles to get away from everything.  The constant nagging from your mother and the memory of your wedding day still haunted you-the police had returned the wedding video from the evidence locker, you having requested it back so you had a reminder that the best way to survive was all alone.

You had moved in with some friends that lived in a crack den, who were more than happy to show you the unhealthiest ways of coping with trauma.  You started hitting the bars and clubs with abandon, your whole appearance changing from the pristine good girl image to the dirtiest hooker on the Sunset Strip.  A new up and coming rock band named Motley Crue was frequenting the Troubadour and you just so happened to see one of their shows and were surprised to see that you knew their front man.  When their set was done, they all hit the bar and you saddled up next to the now blonde Vince and said "Long time, no see Vinny" he looked you up and down.

"Have we met?" he looked like he was desperately trying to remember your name, like you were a one night stand that was trying to get another round with his dick,

"We only lived next door to each other since third grade, goofball" you smiled at him, you having lost a considerable amount of weight.  You looked more like a dying person than a woman with your features sunken in.

His eyes widened as he realized "Y/N?!" he got off his stool and took you into a corner to talk to you "What are you doin' here?!  This isn't a place for someone like you!"

"You mean a Bible Thumper?" you laughed, then coughed a smoker's cough.  "I put that life behind me, babe" you were already sloshed and falling over yourself.

He began to tear up and said "What happened to you...you never were like..." he motioned to your whole frame from your hair dyed black to the bottom of your high heeled shoes "this?"

You sobered up a moment and gave the best answer you could "Life" and you went on talking with him, not giving up any details about the past four years.  He asked where you were staying and when you answered he looked even more disheartened.

"That's a crack den, Y/N..." he said, even he didn't mess with crack at that time. 

"I know" you giggled "why do you think I live there?"

"Please Y/N...come with me" he pleaded.  Him and his friends still partied and did drugs, but with people they knew would call an ambulance if the shit hit the fan.

You grew defensive and said "I'm not that same scared Bambi I used to be Vinny.  She's long dead" you gathered your things but he grabbed your arm and insisted on giving you their number to the apartment in case you needed to get a hold of him.  You took it, secretly wanting to be close to him too.

After the party had winded down and everyone left, Nikki asked Vince "Who was that chick you were talking to at the bar?"

Vince paled and said "Someone I used to know.  I've been in love with her since the third grade.  She used to be someone who I wouldn't even give a second glance to now, one of those good girl types..."

Tommy stumbled into the living room with "Dude, if you had feelings for her why didn't you ever tell 'er?"

"I was afraid it'd mess up our friendship" he put his head down, it pounding from the hangover he was nursing "besides, I heard she got married to her high school sweet heart" he pouted.

"Well what the fuck went wrong?" Nikki asked.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out" he was determined to do just that.  He had kept contact with you almost every day when he'd go to the crack den to check on you, to which you assured him that you didn't need to be babysat like a child.  He was even more pissed off when he found out how you were funding your habits.  One of the guys who owned a bar down the street said that you'd been prostituting yourself for cash, drugs and booze (which was true).

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he scolded "What happened that made you change so much?!"

You were just as angry with him getting into your business and you said "Why are you getting so mad at me?!  You're just as bad as I am!"

"You used to be such a good girl, Y/N!" he started to sound like a square and he didn't care.  He loved you even after all this time.

"You know you're starting to sound like my father-" you stopped and then broke down in tears.  He tried to comfort you but you pushed him off.  "If I wanted someone to yell at me, then I would have stayed with my fuckin' mother!"

That night, you needed a hit of the good crack.  You took more than you were used to and had a very bad trip.  Jeremiah came back, his skin colored like a corpse and the bullet hole where he shot himself at the alter was in full view.  "You don't deserve to wear white" was all he was saying to you, the word echoing in your head.  You just wanted it all to stop so you tried to end it all.

The next morning the phone in the apartment blared and Tommy picked it up with a groggy "Hello?"  when the caller asked for Vince, he thew one of his drumsticks at him, hitting him in the eye.

"Tommy!  What the fuck dude?!" he jolted awake.

"Phone" he handed over the phone and Vince listened intently.

"Ummm...this is gonna sound really bad...Y/N tried to kill herself last night..."

"What?!" Vince was now fully awake "How?!  Where is she?!"

"She slit her wrists and let herself bleed out in the tub" he caller said "we called the paramedics in time.  She's at L.A. General, on the crazy floor.  She kept screaming for you while they were taking her away..." he hung up the phone and tossed a pair of shoes on, sprinting to the hospital in nothing but pajama bottoms.

He demanded that they let him see you, but they said that you'd be in detox at least a week and then in the regular ward for a month, then he could see you during visiting hours.  The only rules he had to follow was that he couldn't bring anything in and that he couldn't be fucked up on anything.  He obliged and visited you every change he could when he wasn't hammered or high.  "Why'd you cut yourself Y/N?" he asked gently, his warm hand recoiling when he felt your icy cold ones.

"I don't want to talk about it" you said, getting uncomfortable.  The only think you wanted now was your fix of crack. 

"We're going to have to eventually" he put his hands on your shoulder and rested his head on top of yours.  Him fucking you was the last thing on his mind right now, a first for Vince about any woman.

You turned to face him and looked up, a shadow of your former self seeping through "I will tell you, someday" you hugged into his chest and nuzzled there "but I'm not ready anytime soon...please be patient..."

He smiled and hugged you close to him "Okay Y/N" even after all this time, you still smelled like lavender vanilla.

When you were finally discharged, you went to live in the apartment with Vince and his friends, who knew well enough not to ask about the bandages on your arms.  You did slow down on the drinking and drug use, but didn't stop cold turkey.  It was a pace that Vince approved of, that he could keep an eye on you.

It was a few weeks into living with them that you'd left your wedding tape out on accident.  You were looking for something else in your luggage and forgot to put it back.  Tommy saw it on the counter and said "Hey, It's Y/N and Jeremiah's wedding video!  Let's watch it!"  you were sleeping deeply in Vince's room, where you had recently agreed to become a couple.

Mick was there too, him being over to make music with them.  He had met you a few days ago, him wondering about the bandages on your wrists but not daring to ask.  Vince had told him all about you and how he never shut the fuck up about you.  He could see why the blonde was so enthralled with you.  He said "Come on, guys.  Leave it alone..."  Nikki and Vince agreed with Tommy and popped it into the VCR.  None of them were ready.

You looked beautiful in your white wedding dress, flawless hair and make-up.  This was the day you'd been dreaming of since you were a little girl, and even more so when Jeremiah asked for your hand.  You spent all summer planning for an early fall wedding and everything was in place.  Your father walked you down the aisle to your husband to be, where he was looking rather annoyed.  You figured it was just nerves on his end, you couldn't say anything against him about that.  You were nervous too. 

You held hands and did your vows, but instead of him saying his vows to you, he said "Did you fuck my brother?"

The whole crowd gasped and looked at you.  His brother James was the best man, and he too looked just as shocked as you did.  The accusation wasn't true and you said as such.

"Then why was my brother at our house all night when I was gone?"

"You know it's bad luck to see the bride 24 hours before the wedding bro" his brother stepped up, telling the truth "I was only there to help her write her vows to you dude!"

It was then Jeremiah pulled out a gun and shot his brother in the chest, him bleeding out right in front of you.  You screamed and stepped away from him. Your father rushing to him to try and wrestle the gun away.  He shot your father too, him being dead before he hit the ground.  The church was in pandemonium, the people running around to get away from the madman with the gun.

He then turned to you, hugging you close to him and whispering something in your ear before blowing his brains out, spattering your pure white dress with his blood and brain matter.

You had gotten up because you heard something familiar and went to see if what you thought was going on actually was.  You weren't ready to talk about it yet, but the cat was out of the bag now.  You waited until the camera shut off and said "You don't deserve to wear white" causing all the them to jump and look at you, all of them with horrified expressions on their faces.  "That's what he whispered in my ear before he shot himself" you pressed rewind and took the tape out when it was finished.

"He thought I was screwing his brother behind his back" you explained "but I wasn't.   I only called him over to help me write my vows and he was tired so I let him sleep on the sofa" Vince then wished he had waited until she was ready to tell him herself, but that was impossible now.

"Killed his brother, and my father" you then sat down and started softly crying "my mother and brothers wouldn't even talk to me after that.  I spent a year in a psych ward, then wandered around until I got to L.A.  Found all the drugs and booze that could numb the pain" you then went to the kitchen to get yourself a snack like nothing happened.

Vince got up and could only hug you softly "I'm sorry" was all he could say, you feeling him crying on your shoulder.  You touched his arm and cried with him.  Tommy, Nikki and Mick vacated the apartment to give you some privacy.

"That man broke me, Vinny" you turned and hugged into his chest and he looked down at you "even after death, he still broke me...all it took was time and pressure..."

"You know" he pulled away and said "time and pressure make the most beautiful diamonds"  you couldn't help but snort laugh at him and slapped his arm playfully.

"I should have waited until you were ready to tell me" he admitted "I'm sorry for violating that..."

"I don't know if I would have ever told you" you said honestly.

"I wouldn't have asked anyway" he stroked your hair and began kissing you breaking it off to say "I love you.  I always have, and always will..."

"I love you too, Vince"

[smallmediumproblems]

Summary: The Magnus Institute budget waits for no eldritch entity, and there are only two archival staff with enough patience left to answer Elias' questions.

Note: I missed the deadline to submit this to a contest ages ago, and kinda forgot about it...? but, it’s finished now, so, here y’go! Takes place sometime mid-season-3.

. . .

BASIRA: Do you think he's going to notice?

MARTIN (tense): I think there's not a whole lot we can do if he does. Not much he can do to us, either. I mean, who else is willing to put up with paperwork for him?

BASIRA: I'm a little surprised he still trusts you. With anything.

MARTIN (more tense, looking for an excuse to lash out): It's almost like I try to be helpful and cooperative all the time so people know they can rely on me.

BASIRA (not sure about the method, but approves of the results): Huh. Sneaky.

MARTIN (has snapped): Nothing about this is sneaky! We're literally asking him to finance his own-

MARTIN (CONT'D, lowers his voice, reminds himself that they’re not supposed to talk about Secret Plans): You know.

BASIRA: Fun, right?

MARTIN: You're totally sure we got everything on the list?

BASIRA: I checked with Daisy just this morning. She’s not happy about it, but she was very thorough. Melanie's, erm, needs , are pretty straightforward. Tim is being actively unhelpful.

MARTIN: He seemed pretty enthusiastic.

BASIRA: Doesn’t make him helpful. Anyway, you said it yourself. It’s too late to worry about it now. What’s the worst he’s gonna do to us for a little light subterfuge?

[Cut to several minutes later. BASIRA and MARTIN are sitting in ELIAS' office. BASIRA has her game face on, and her confidence is infectious. MARTIN has calmed down a bit. But only a bit.]

ELIAS: First and foremost, I’d like to thank you for meeting with me today. I know that our working relationship is a bit… strained, at the moment, and I appreciate the degree of professionalism this demonstrates in both of you.

MARTIN: That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me.

BASIRA: I just didn't want to leave him alone with you.

ELIAS: I believe you two were in charge of drafting the archive’s most recent budget request, is that correct?

BASIRA: That’s right.

ELIAS: I had some concerns to discuss with you before I filed everything.

BASIRA (somewhat defensive): This is the pared down version. We had to make some hard choices for what to cut.

ELIAS: I would be interested to hear what you decided to forego in favor of…

[Very brief beat as ELIAS flips through the budget, which he has printed out for the express purpose of quoting at them disapprovingly]

ELIAS (CONT’D): ...four dozen assorted hunting knives.

MARTIN: Mostly, it was just more knives.

BASIRA: Daisy goes through them pretty quickly these days. We figured it might be good to have a few stashed around the archive. For safety.

ELIAS: I hardly feel safe giving you easy access to weaponry, considering Melanie’s new hobby. Not to mention your collective history of emotional outbursts.

BASIRA (trying to pretend that she cares, not trying very hard): Oh, your safety. Yeah, that makes sense.

ELIAS: On the subject of safety, I see that you've opted to restock with what I can only call an excess of fire extinguishers. Hardly necessary now that Jane Prentiss is deceased, but I understand your concern.

MARTIN (eagerly): No, you’d think that, but they’re really good for a lot of things. I mean, we ARE dealing with a fire cult. The archive’s enough of a hazard already. Loose paper, old electrical sockets...

BASIRA (supportive): They’re great for self-defense.

ELIAS: I suppose it is a better alternative to knives.

ELIAS (CONT’D, continuing to flip through papers): Speaking of excess, you appear to have ordered twice as many supplies as you normally need for the breakroom. Would you care to explain why?

MARTIN: We’re not the ones who hired a bunch more people. We barely had enough for four of us, and now we've got five! Six if you count Daisy. She’s mostly in and out, but I’m not going to tell her she can’t have a cup of tea while she’s waiting for Basira.

ELIAS: You’re certain it has nothing to do with stocking a second meeting space that you’ve decided to assemble at without my knowledge?

MARTIN (carefully): ...no?

BASIRA (more casually; no plans here, Vader, just a diplomatic mission to Alderaan): Sounds kind of far-fetched.

MARTIN (deciding to roll with it): Should we do that? It could be a good team-builder.

ELIAS: My main concern is that you’ve listed a frozen margarita machine among the requested furnishings.

MARTIN (oh! that’s all it was): Oh-

BASIRA (to Martin, confused but not upset): I thought you took that out.

MARTIN (annoyed): Tim must have snuck it back in. That- that’s an honest mistake, we didn’t mean to submit that.

ELIAS: Then we’re in agreement that it doesn’t constitute a reasonable business expense?

[MARTIN makes a doubtful noise.]

BASIRA (also doubtful): I mean...

MARTIN: I wouldn't say that.

BASIRA: Have you talked to Tim lately?

ELIAS: Hmm. Point taken. Still, I can't spend Institute funds on it in good conscience.

[ELIAS scratches out the line item and continues to page through the budget intermittently as he talks.]

ELIAS (CONT'D): Let's move on to some of the miscellanea. Cassette tapes are entirely understandable, but are you certain you need this many?

BASIRA: The tape recorders follow Jon around, yeah? I figure, if he doesn’t come back, they’re going to stop showing up on their own. We need to plan ahead.

MARTIN (angrily; clearly they have argued about this before.): That is not why.

BASIRA (conceding, more amused than apologetic): And it makes more sense for each of us to have our own supply instead of ransacking Jon's office whenever we run out. That’s what Martin keeps telling me.

MARTIN: She won't stop stealing his pens!

BASIRA (frustrated. This is also something they've argued about before.): I need them. You never gave me any office supplies.

MARTIN: You were supposed to put that in with the budget.

BASIRA: Hard choices, Martin. This was one of them.

ELIAS: Is that why you’ve ordered nearly a gross of glow sticks?

BASIRA: Oh, no. That’s for research.

[Beat as ELIAS waits for BASIRA to elaborate. She does not.]

ELIAS (forcing a patient tone): What kind of research?

BASIRA (condescending, as if this should be obvious): Spooky research.

BASIRA (CONT’D): I’m not convinced the People’s Church is as dormant as we thought. I’m toying around with defensive strategies- redundant light sources, stuff like that.

MARTIN: It’s been very festive!

ELIAS: Would that also explain the assorted sports equipment?

BASIRA (it would not): Research.

ELIAS: The smart-home device and speaker system.

BASIRA (definitely not research): Research.

ELIAS: And is this a miniature zeppelin?

MARTIN (pleased with himself for contributing): Ooh, that one's me. Er, yeah. Research.

ELIAS: Is it meant to resemble a shark?

MARTIN (yes, it is): I… hadn't noticed.

ELIAS: What about the petrol?

BASIRA (Smugly. She knows that ELIAS knows exactly what she wants to use petrol for.): Definitely research.

ELIAS: I think not. I already cannot trust you with sharp objects. I don’t see how accelerants are a possibility.

MARTIN: We did also ask for a lot of fire extinguishers. You've got to look at the whole thing in context. There's a system here.

ELIAS (crossing out several lines): Regardless. That will also not be making the final list. One other item in particular drew my attention simply because of the price. What do you need a GPS tracker for?

BASIRA (immediately): Jon.

MARTIN (disappointed): Yeah.

ELIAS: Out of the question.

MARTIN: What if he goes missing again?

ELIAS: A tracker is an optimistic but unfeasible solution. The things that have an interest in Jon are likely to take him somewhere he cannot be tracked.

BASIRA: Plan A was to give him a bunch of knives, but you shot that one down.

ELIAS: In any case, the only way this would work is if he wore it every minute he was outside the Institute. Don’t you think that’s a bit invasive of his privacy?

[MARTIN begins trying not to laugh, and is quite unable to do anything else for a few seconds as the conversation continues.]

ELIAS (icy): Something you'd like to share with us?

MARTIN: I’m sorry, I- I can’t tell if you’re being serious.

BASIRA (trying to ignore him): We did talk to Jon about it. It’s not like we were going to stalk him.

MARTIN (would be sarcastic if he wasn’t still laughing): Who would do such a thing?

ELIAS: Do we need to postpone this?

MARTIN (managing to calm down): Nope, yep. I’m good. Hmmmmmkay. Where- where were we?

ELIAS: I believe we were at the start of a very serious human resources inquiry.

MARTIN (feigning interest): Ohh! Whose is that?

BASIRA (tired): GPS unit is a no, that’s fine. I’ll get him one of those kid-leashes out of pocket. Elias, was there anything else?

ELIAS: The rest of the budget looks to be in order. If I could discuss one other issue with you, I have some similar concerns with your reimbursement requests. I take it this list is similarly ‘pared down’?

BASIRA: Yeah, I didn’t do that.

MARTIN (alarmed): What?!

BASIRA (unmoved): Yep. Just put everything in a list and printed it out.

MARTIN (rapidly cycling through the five stages of grief): Why??

BASIRA: Because we all have massively more important things to do.

ELIAS: Perhaps if you had taken the time to edit the list, this meeting would have been much shorter.

BASIRA (smug that she’s managed to make this ELIAS’ problem, not hers): Misery loves company.

ELIAS: Indeed. You mentioned Tim’s instability earlier. He’s put down several months of a gym membership and listed the explanation as ‘vengeance’.

MARTIN (uncomfortable, unhappy about TIM’s state in general but unwilling to show it here, of all places): Yeah, that’s… been a thing.

ELIAS (dismissive): I don’t suppose he’s intending to punch the Unknowing out of existence?

BASIRA: We haven’t actually sorted out who he’s planning vengeance against. Could be Jon. I don’t think he’d punch you, but I don’t know him too well.

MARTIN: Honestly, it’s been a good way to keep him busy. I won’t say it puts him in a better mood, exactly? He’s not less angry, just, erm, distracted. I think it helps. He thinks it helps, that’s what matters.

ELIAS: It is at least easier to rationalize than the margarita machine.

ELIAS (CONT'D, flips a couple more pages): One last thing… Ah. I also wanted to discuss some of Jon's travel expenses.

BASIRA: Is this from when you framed him for murder?

ELIAS: I think you’ll find that my involvement led to him being found innocent, but yes. This would be his absence during your investigation with Officer Tonner.

BASIRA (resigned): Alright. What’d he do, now?

[ELIAS slides a piece of paper across the table.]

ELIAS: Is this a typographical error, or did he really try to request this much compensation for ‘emotional damages’?

[BASIRA makes an interested noise as she reads the figure.]

BASIRA: Sounds about right.

ELIAS (stern, disapproving): We have an entirely separate form for that. It hardly counts as a travel expense.

MARTIN (did not know this. stunned, distant, half to himself): We have a whole form for emotional damages…

BASIRA: I think he just wanted to pay back his friend. Rent, groceries- I think Orsinov did some property damage, even?

ELIAS: Ahh. I see. We should be able to provide for that, if he can acquire some itemized receipts.

MARTIN (muttering to himself): What else do we have forms for?

ELIAS (darkly): A great many things, Mr Blackwood. Let us hope that you never find yourself in a position to discover them.

MARTIN (refuses to be disturbed by whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean): So, like, a sabbatical program? Have we got educational incentives?

ELIAS (perhaps a bit annoyed that Martin isn’t playing along): Don’t you already have a degree?

MARTIN (defensively): Maybe I want another one.

ELIAS: Then I suggest we have that discussion in a separate meeting. I doubt that Basira needs to know the details of your plans for personal growth.

BASIRA: Depends on the kind. Daisy might be in the market for a new gym partner.

MARTIN (terrified, dead sure that’s a euphemism for something violent): Oh wow! That’s. Great, Basira!

ELIAS: If you two are quite finished, I have other things I need to accomplish today.

BASIRA (sarcastically): Good luck with that!

BASIRA (CONT'D): I’m heading out, see you two on Monday.

MARTIN: Basira, it’s not even lunchtime. On Wednesday.

BASIRA (referring to Elias): What, is he gonna fire me?

[beat]

ELIAS (disgruntled): Enjoy your weekend, detective.

[Door opens and closes as BASIRA leaves.]

ELIAS (ominous): ...while you still can.

MARTIN: Do you do that every time someone leaves the room?

ELIAS (oh for- what now , MARTIN): Do what?

MARTIN: Say ominous stuff while no one's listening.

ELIAS (chuckles. If there was a camera, he'd be grinning directly at it): I can assure you, Martin, someone is always listening.

[ashandboneca]

The racism is coming from inside the house.

With all that's happening in the world right now, I wanted to take a moment to talk about racism and discrimination in the general pagan community.

I know a lot of people see pagans and witches as a loving, hippie-dippy, group who couldn't possibly contribute to such a hateful thing. It almost makes me want to laugh. Not only does the pagan community contain racism, parts of it actively enable and perpetuate it.

I have written extensively previously about my own experiences in my own community 5 years ago, when a local white supremacist was harassing me online, attempting to defame me, and attacking and slandering members of the community who are people of colour (POC). I cannot speak for any of those POC, I do not know their experience. I can only speak for myself and what I saw happen. I saw members of my own community, members and organizations that I have worked with and that I have trusted, back up a known white supremacist with 'they're just proud of their heritage' and a refusal to do anything to protect other members and potential members of the community, even with proof. I still see people that I know and used to respect attend their events or promote their events. The community where I used to live is so steeped in racism, and it is enabled by the people who have the power to prevent it.

I can't even imagine what it would be like to walk in the shoes of a POC here, seeing a whole mess of white folks who claim to be welcoming and accepting, sheltering a known neo-nazi. It must be so uncomfortable. It must be so infuriating.

Unfortunately, you see a lot of prevalence of neo-nazi beliefs and behaviours in the Heathen and Asatru community. Our gods have been co-opted by the jack-booted masses, looking to perpetuate their ideals of a pure race (which, newsflash, doesn't actually exist), white is right, and hatred of the other, searching for ways to twist the words of the gods to justify their tirade of fear and hatred. You have groups like the Wotan network, Asatru Folk Assembly (which is officially classified by the US government as a hate group), and the Thulean Perspective. You have the Heathen Harvest, the Soldiers of Odin, the Wolves of Vinland, Operation Werewolf. People take the beliefs of the Thule Society and the pro-Germanic beliefs of the Nazi party during WWII, and mix it with good old fashioned fear. Presto, welcome to the new nationalist kindred: whites only, please.

You run into a lot of issues with any POC who dares to work with gods from any of the northern European pantheons: it's as though they feel that anyone who isn't lily fucking white has no business working with their gods. Oh, did you buy them? Do you have a fucking deed of sale? I mean, try not to mention that northern Europe has never been 100% white, what with all the Romans and Moors who travelled there long before and long after they were Christianized. You think they didn't intermarry? Don't dare mention that most of the population of northern Europe is Christian, and they are praying to a brown, middle eastern Jew. Don't mention that their gods were queer and sometimes brown. Like, get the fuck over yourselves.

Don't even get me started on the racist practice of cultural appropriation, or the claim from some groups that are clearly not closed cultures (cough NAZI HEATHENS cough) that POC are stealing their beliefs. The POC have no right to the Germanic/Norse gods (what are you, their fucking keeper?), that they should (and this is a quote I have see many times) just stick with their own African gods, or go back to Africa where they belong.

Heathenry is not closed culture; it is in no way under threat of extinction, and it's practitioners were not subject to genocide or mistreatment. So yeah. How about no. How about this: we all should just listen to our POC and listen to what they say about their cultures and their practices. We white folks have no business telling them what we can steal from them; we've done quite enough of that, thanks.

As much as we claim that 'hate is not a pagan value', to some it is. A belief they hold deep in their very souls. It starts, insidious at first, as a belief in pro-nationalistic, pro-tradition rhetoric. It speaks of bringing together the 'disenfranchised', whose culture is being threatened by the cries of diversity. It slowly turns into anti-immigration, anti-islam, anti-feminism. Then it turns into marches and gatherings to 'preserve their culture'. Then it turns to violence. Then murder.

Example? Varg Vikernes. Super racist metal musician, confirmed northern practitioner, convicted arsonist who burned down churches, and convicted murderer. Now that he's out of jail, he preaches intolerance and violence through the Thulean Perspective. The man is so full of hatred, and because he was a popular musician, he commands a large audience.

Tackling the utter mess of the racist pagan community is not an easy task. I have no easy answers. All I know is that in times like this, there are 2 quotes I live by:

“Where you recognize evil, speak out against it, and give no truces to your enemies”

-Havamal, stanza 127

and the always quoted:

"When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle."

- Edmund Burke (often misquoted as 'all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.')

The most important thing to do in times like this is not not be silent. We need to stand up against racism whenever and wherever we see it. We need to own our own racist shit, and strive to be better. We need to listen to the folks who are suffering the most, and do what we can to make sure their voices are heard - and we need to let our voices rise up to combat the hatred.

We can't literal nazi fucks continue to co-opt what we have tried to build. Been there. Done that. Pretty sure we fought wars about it. It means making hard choices. It means removing people from your life who have decided, for whatever reason, that there are numerous people who do not deserve basic human rights. It will likely mean ending decades-long friendships, or family. It will mean standing up for what is right, even if it is what is hard to do.

We have to look at what these communities have become, and be absolutely disgusted at the state of them. We need to be the helpers. We need to be the ones to push to create change.

If we want this community to survive, we need to fight for it. If we can't save it, we need to burn it down to kill the disease, and start again.