#.god remember when this used to be an art blog? may as well put those skills to use i guess 😂😂

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

idk if ur gonna see this or anything but i fully relapsed pretty bad into my ed about two months ago. I've had god knows how many recoveries and relapses and I always seem to end up back in. i want out this time and i want out for good, i don't want to spend the rest of my life doing this. any advice?

Hi there, anon! I did see this. I get to everything in my askbox eventually, if it's something I'm able to put on my blog.

I'm sorry to hear you've been having so much trouble staying well. I don't know exactly what you've tried so far, but here's the advice I can give:

Are you surrounded by supportive people? If you can, find friends you trust to confide in about the issues you've been having. Think about what they can do to be supportive, whether it be reminding you to be soft about your body image or reminding you how they hope you are healthy and eating well. We all need to learn to love ourselves, but outside support from the right people can give us a big, big boost when we find ourselves needing it most. Building a support system also gives you people to reach out to when you're struggling. That can be hard and scary, but it can also be a resource.

Speaking of resources, is therapy open to you? I don't know if you're able to access therapeutic resources, but a therapist might be able to help you develop coping mechanisms for the issues you might be struggling with that keep you coming back to your ED. I'm also going to preface this next statement by saying that I am not an expert on DBT, and that what I'm going to tell you next is just something I heard during a brief overview of DBT during a training we had at work recently. However, apparently a big premise in DBT is about learning coping strategies to get through those moments of crisis we experience without resorting to the destructive impulses we may have. "Whatever you do, don't make it WORSE" is an excellent thing to remember in crisis. Sometimes you can just...do nothing, and ride out the feeling until it passes, and then work through it later. Or use a coping strategy. Once you've practiced that, maybe you can learn positive responses to your moments of crisis to help you deal with them productively. That way you may learn to better resist urges to relapse - or to pull yourself out of a lapse before it becomes a full relapse. (Be honest but kind to yourself when doing this - shame may only make the lapse worse! Those of us with EDs are often prone to using shame as a motivator, which can sometimes work well in the short term but is terrible for us in the long term.)

It's hard for me to give specific advice without knowing what your ED is like, but perhaps you can use timed reminders to hold yourself accountable to consistently practicing self care before, during, and after eating. Especially when you're going places like - out to a restaurant with friends and family, event where surprise food might be offered, holiday party, etc. Self-care can be whatever works for you - writing down positive affirmations, meditating, taking a long hot bath, taking a little walk and moving your body, gently reminding the bully in your head that what they're saying to you is not helpful to you in the long run, doing some stretches, creating some art...literally whatever self-care looks like for you, but create a self-care regimen around eating properly. Create a self-care regimen for lapses, too. Hopefully you won't need it, but understand that self-care means investing in resources and safety nets for yourself in the event that you might have a hard time, rather than punishing yourself by letting yourself fail. Think about it in advance so that you are not struggling to come up with a self-care plan when you're already in crisis: what are you going to need in order to help gently pull yourself out of a lapse? Failing is human and struggling is common in eating disorders. Learning to be kind to yourself when you fail and growing from your mistakes is a huge part of ED recovery, since we tend to be big self-punishers.

Hope this helps! You can tell me a little more about your ED for more specific advice if you want to, but you don't have to. I hope you find your way back to your own healing path, anon. <3

[servantofthefates]

How to Have a Great Self-Esteem

Do not be fooled by the inspirational quotes you see on Instagram or Pinterest. It is not just about rainbows, butterflies and positive thinking. Self-esteem is a very real, tangible thing. You cannot achieve it simply by going within. Having confidence is a big part of it. But it’s not everything.

Step 1: Find your passion.

Because you need a reason to live. If you do not have one, you get depressed. You become lonely. You develop suicidal thoughts. You feel worthless.

And no, going to college, having a job or getting married is not enough. These are goals that society taught us to adopt. What you need is your own personal aim. And you will only discover that once you start living your true passion. Which could be anything, from painting and dancing to spellcasting and tarot reading.

When you have a true goal, you have the will to live. Neither mental illness nor poverty can stop you from chasing it.

Step 2: Look your best.

Body positivity is all well and good in theory. But in reality, body positivity has become a sorry excuse for some people to accept their average self instead of striving for their best self.

In truth, many body positivity champions are simply too lazy to work out, diet and take care of themselves.

You need to ask yourself if you are one of them. Because if you are, there is insecurity inside of you masquerading as self acceptance. And one way or another, that truth will come up to the surface. It will always prevent you from truly loving yourself.

Step 3: Seek material stability.

Hating on rich people and bashing capitalism may be cool and all, but it will not help you pay your bills and buy the things you want.

Success is like a game. Complaining about the rules will not help you win. It will only make you look bitter and stupid, even. Instead, play it. And play as well as you can. Study hard, find a job, start a small online business, sell your art. Or even find a rich romantic partner, if you want — to support you before you can support yourself.

Remember that spirituality is amazing. After all, that is what this blog is all about. But if the gods wanted us to just be spiritual, they would not have made us corporeal.

Step 4: Do not tolerate disrespect.

Respecting yourself means eliminating everyone who does not respect you. 

That means cutting off your toxic friends and breaking up with your abusive lover. If that is easier said than done, ask for help from those who can give it. No one with a healthy self-esteem stays in any abusive relationship. If your parents refuse to give you love, you may not be able to leave them yet, but stop craving their affection and work on yourself while you wait to get out of there.

Same with social media. Block everyone who sends you malicious energy. If that energy is particularly malevolent, avenge yourself by putting a curse on them. Even arguing is not worth your time. Let them drown alone in pathetic jealousy.

Step 5: Never need anyone.

Humans are social creatures with complex emotions. So I do not mean, be a hermit and stay a virgin forever.

What this is, is a culmination of all the previous points. 1) If you know what you want out of this life… 2) If you genuinely feel happy each time you look at your own reflection… 3) If you can financially support yourself in this material world of ours… 4) If you never let anyone walk all over you in any way at all… then and only then are you actually complete.

And when you are complete, it does not matter if a friend betrays you, a lover leaves you, or the world turns its back on you. You will always feel whole at the end of the day. And that is what it truly means to have a great self-esteem.

[stickynotestoletters]

may i ask for some poly relationship w larry & sal x male reader hcs?

Ah! Of course! :) Sorry I've been taking so long school is getting to me cause of finals;-;

Warnings: Noncannon compliant (their parents aren't together, no one dies, etc), NSFW (implied teen NSFW otherwise they're out of highschool), no weird cult stuff but they still ghost hunt, more modernish (?) phones and stuff

Sal x Male Reader x Larry hcs

highschool

I think that Sal and Larry would have gotten together before you got there

Like, I say gotten together but the way they started it was literally best friends that were super hornknee and decided to have sex together

They started then developing romantic feelings for each other though

And although the sex dynamic wasn't perfect (refer to my Sal x reader NSFW fic) it was good and they loved each other

It became an on and off thing until they actually worked it out

they talked about it and decided that it was better that they stay friends until they can sort out their own sexual desires and endeavors

Sal didn't even know he could do both as a switch and verse so he wanted to just re-examine his sexual self

And Larry was okay with that

So they decided to date but just without sex for a while

Then you moved to Nockfell their sophomore year

and god were you cool

Sal was the first one to see you in the hallway

It wasn't love at first sight really

He thought you were cool and he wanted to talk to you

Then that same day he told Larry about you during lunch

"I want to talk to him I just don't know how to approach him"

"Oh, well who is it?"

Ngl Larry was kinda jealous about how flustered Sal was getting at the prospect of a new friend but then Sal pointed at you and Larry was like "Oh, okay, I get it."

So Larry just approaches you

It was kinda to tease Sal about how shy he was being

Also kinda because you looked rad as fuck

So Larry approaches you sitting at a table alone

You were actually quite chill

You were happy since no one was approaching you

You guys hit it off and ended up becoming really good friends!

So for the duration of your sophomore year and the summer of your junior year, you guys were really good pals and hung out a lot

Then Larry started developing feelings first

And he was super confused since he knew he still liked Sal, no doubt about it

So he was just super confused and conflicted because he didn’t want to break up with Sal

So during, about the first half, of all of your junior year he kept this to himself and tried to keep himself from feeling for you

Sal on the other hand already accepted his feelings, he realized it later than Larry

And he read yp on what being polygamous meant

So although there was a lot of confusion at first he figured it's no different from people in love triangles

He realizes it a couple weeks after Larry and decides to bring this up to Larry during winter break

The conversation pretty much just went like Sal explaining polyamory to Larry for an hour

They end up deciding to just wait a bit and try to flirt with you individually

you know,

because they don't remember that you don't know they're attracted to you at this point

:)

So basically you think that they're both trying to cheat on each other for the week they're flirting with you

At the end of that week, you tell them to meet you together

And they don't know any better than to meet you

And then you come to them, don't let them explain, and cry because you don't want two of your best friends to cheat on each other like this even though you like them

And then they realize why you're saying this

So although this was not the time they expected to confess to you they told you what they were trying to do

So you just sat there

With these two idiots

and told them "No guys, cause I was literally having a breakdown about losing my two best friends."

And they confess to you

and everything is emotional and raw and you accept

Your guys' dynamic doesn't change because you’re dating now

The only difference is you guys make out together and show lots more pda

although you always bring up what they did when they were trying to give you hints

"We just really wanted to flirt with you okay??? Is it such a crime to want your crush to fall for you???"

"When you guys don't explain you're looking to expand your relationship, yes. Yes, it is Larry."

"He's kind of right babe-"

"SAL-"

Y'all spend a lot of time communicating with each other on stuff like that now

Your senior year goes without any bumps between all of you and you then graduate

College Dynamic

so you and the gang (except Ash, she moves to the city of course) goes and makes a college house

once you all move in together there it's a new routine

You all agreed and talked about the move together and what it would entail

And then you all finally realized how different it was from a monogamous relationship it was

But you all had your learning curves within the relationship

You find out more about their dynamic as a couple

For example, Larry and Sal never liked to fall asleep without you anymore

They had trouble sleeping without you beforehand and the first time you all slept in the same bed together it was just... so... peaceful

They'll spoon and cuddle without you individually (Sal is always the big spoon with Larry)

but they just love falling asleep next to you

They also refuse to do homework without you there

Even if it's just the simplest this they're just gonna need to have you in the room to finish it

Sal likes to make songs about you guys

He records them and edits some but he never lets you two listen to them

"It's just embarrassing if you two were to listen to it. It's like confessing my love for you guys all over again except I can't hide behind the mask."

So until he decides to release his songs online or plays those at gigs he's never going to let you listen to them

Larry likes to paint you guys

His paintings of you before the "disaster confession" were okay, it just looked like he was making a painting of a friend, except for the occasional rose

But now he paints you and draws you two whenever he can

He finds it funny how flustered you and Sal get whenever he makes suggestive paintings or sketches of you two

One time he painted a whole sex portrait of you and Sal together (A 12 by 28 specifically) hung it upright in front of the door to your rooms and didn't tell anyone

So after you and Sal got home that day you were welcomed with Larry lounging on your bed with the giant picture of you fucking Sal next to him

It was definitely beautiful though, even if it's hard to call your nudes beautiful

"Larry Johnson, this painting, as always, masterful. Beautiful craftsmanship but please-" "-we mean this in the most loving way possible Larry-" "-STOP PAINTING OUR NUDES BABE"

He put it away to be hung up in your apartment for when you all move out

Non-College Life

Once you all finish college you guys move into an apartment outside of Nockfell

The minute after you and Sal leave to get food Larry puts up all his private paintings of you guys

It's funny to him

I imagine you guys moving to a really populated city

Somewhere where it's a good place for people wanting to have creative jobs but still close to Nockfell

Maybe not back to New Jersey but probably not as far as New York or LA

you guys do all the cute stuff you never got to in Nockfell together

It's not like the majority of Nockfell was homophobic, mostly just the people who went to the church

But a lot more of them didn't think that polyamory was possible

So now it's easier

It's not like you never experience any polyphobia anymore but it's easier because you're in a more open-minded place

Sal's favorite thing is to go to concerts now

And pride

He also likes coffee house dates too

Larry gets hit on a lot though whenever you guys go out anywhere though

He finds it funny how jealous you both get

Sometimes if he wants Sal to get really mad he'll play along

But most of the time he shuts it down before it begins

Sal gets hit on a lot at concerts the most though

He gets kind of awkward about it, he's not going to edge them on but he gets uncomfortable enough to just not know how to shut them down

Usually, you and Larry will just appear behind him and whisk him away

Larry likes to use it as teasing leverage for a good rough one that night but you usually make sure he's okay with it before Larry does anything

You get hit on the most casually

Here and there but there aren't really specific places

It just sort of happens

You mostly shut them down alone

But occasionally you'll have to go to Sal and Larry if they're persistent

And they'll be mean too

One of the first times you saw Sal and Larry ever legitimately get that mean was when you got hit on in a club and they both just pulled you behind them and absolutely ripped the person a new one

You guys really like to stay at home if you guys have dates though that way everyone feels included

But when you all do go around together it's always specifically for three people you never tell anyone it's a date for dinner reservations, you always make sure you go on rides everyone wants to go on at amusement parks, and hey if worse comes to worst smoking is a group activity (if you have asthma or any other breathing condition Larry makes you edibles if you really wanna do edibles with them)

Starting jobs there are tough and all but you make it off your feet

Sal ends up booking a lot of gigs and Larry's commission request skyrocket when he moves to the city and makes a blog about his art

You all get an apartment with affordable rent and one that allows Gizmo

I hc that Gizmo is an esp but I don't know if that's real

So regardless you'll still be able to have room for him

Sal proposes to both of you

You guys talked about marriage and decided that it would be easier legally to just not get married through a court

So you guys have a friends wedding and Gizmo is the ring bearer

You guys don't get a fancy venue or anything

You guys all just have a city wedding

NSFW

So, the first time you all decide to hook up it's mostly just very communicative rules beforehand

Sal is more comfortable with being fucked than fucking someone else at most times but "It's not like I never want to stick my dick in you two" as he puts it

He also likes background music on most of the time

It's kinda weird if there isn't just a little bit of music

It isn't really bothersome, you guys keep it below 20 at most times

Sal's also super submissive

He liked it rough, make him cry out for you two

A bit of a pillow prince

Especially enjoys being tied up by you two

gags and blindfolds are on the table

Although whenever he does feel up to fucking you and Larry he'll usually end up having you two ride him because he gets to be such a mess with you two unless he's jealous or upset

Usually, when he's upset he's gonna lift you two up and fuck you against the headboard or wherever you two are if he's impatient enough

One time you were chilling with Larry in your bedroom and he was painting over his easel

Sal burst through the door where it slammed back on itself and closed itself

He then tracks his eyes on you

immediately asks you "Can I please fuck you right now"

and as soon as your safe word and consent comes out of your mouth he's holding you down on the bed and fucking into you so hard you can barely breath

Larry doesn't mind it and just continues painting with you moaning and being so pathetic in the background of his music

He kinda finds it funny because before you all got together and he and Larry would angry fuck it never worked out

Sal was just being a brat most of the time because Larry still wouldn't let him fuck him submissively

Speaking of which, Larry's more comfortable with being dominant, he'll bottom but only if he can still be dominant otherwise forget it

Larry's just a rough fucker anyway

He really likes pushing and holding you two up against walls when he fucks you guys

He likes showing off the muscles he got helping his mom with handy work and stuff like that

The first time he did this was to Sal when you were studying in your guy's room

You said you didn't really wanna participate today so they fucked like they would without you

And so they're talking back and forth, teasing each other

and Larry corners him

And just

lifts him up

It looked like he was just lifting a bag of sugar up

Sal seemed weightless as Larry just rocks into him

It was one of the hottest things you'd seen at the time so you joined them

You do that a couple more times but then it just becomes normal and you decide you need to start finishing all those assignments

Larry does that to you one on one as well without Sal but it happens to Sal a lot more spontaneously

Larry though is kinkier than Sal in some respects

He'll try anything at least once "Lisa didn't raise no bitch-"

He's really into breeding and long fucking sessions though

Like, lowkey he has omegaverse fantasies

Not because of the weird stuff just because a lot of the time..... they have breeding written in

He'll never admit to reading any of it but you know he has at least once

Super into dirty talk

And he's really good at it

He also had a praise kink and a degradation kin

He likes degrading you and you telling him thank you and how good he's treating a filthy little brat like you

"What're my filthy little brats good for other than sucking my dick so well. Taking me so well like the dirty little whores you are?"

"Yes sir-" "-we're made for your big cock-" "-thank you for fucking us like this-"

He especially likes breeding you and having Sal suck you off while he does it, he finds your crying cute

And an added bonus is rewarding Sal after for it

You guys talk about long-term consent and all that and decide that it's a good idea, you all trust and love each other so there isn't a problem

lol this kinda went to shit at the end but I still like it enough! Thanks for the Sally Face request I really like this game and the dynamic between a poly reader hc :)

-Laika

[chattingwiththelightkeeper]

A Display Of Twue Dumbinance

I am going to start with this, I know I spelled true wrong in the title. Calm your britches trolls because “twue” is lifestyle slang for balderdash. Now that is out of the way, I want to talk about this guide to finding a true/real dominant that I bumbled upon the other day. This little ditty has zoomed around Tumblr and I am sure many of you reading this have read it and maybe even liked/reblogged it because on the surface some of it sounds great. As I read through it, I found myself cringing, facepalming, and the more I read of this supposed guide to finding “twue” dominance I knew I would be talking about this here on my blog.

As I read through this list the very first time, I was convinced that I wanted to do something I very rarely do and address the hogwash point by point by linking back to the original post and blog. However, when I reached the end of the drivel came a surprising statement that this post was not this “master’s” but he liked it, copied, and pasted it to his blog without ever crediting the person who originally concocted this nonsense. I did discover some great news upon reading Master Cox’s (name changed to protect the guilty) about me section for the ladies of Tumblr, please feel free to submit a nude and/or boobie selfie because he will be happy to post and comment about your body and boobs. It does come with the disclaimer that you may not like what he has to say about your body. This is pure Tumblr gold! Send him a picture, he will body shame those he wishes and as a bonus, he saves all photo submissions for his personal use. Ding, Ding, Ding, ladies we have a twue wiener! So as much as I want to quote this craptastic masterpiece of malarkey, I will paraphrase since crediting the original dumbinant is sadly not an option.

Submissives, did you know that a twue dominant will never approach you demanding your submission, naked pictures, and/or gangbangs? I know, this is a huge news flash and we better call the news networks to get this unfair and unbalanced revelation out to the masses (This is such big news for the masses that I bet we could get the Pope to talk about it at mass!). In all seriousness, a respectable d-type will not contact a submissive with incredulous demands, and a dominant worth their salt will be respectful in all communications. This is cynical but if you believe that this lifestyle works by dumbinants making crass demands and then following them, please change your self-identifier from submissive to stupidmissive. Sorry, this is not news but is simply common sense.

Hey submissive ladies, did you know that a twue dominant man can get laid anytime he wants? Oh, you betcha (said in my best Fargo accent). The reason for a twue d-type’s ability to bow-chicka-wow-wow three hundred and sixty-five days a year with an equal amount of different women is because all women just cannot resist dominance. All a d-type has to do is approach a lady in the produce section, show her his kumquats, and they will be shagging in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot five minutes later. Okay back to reality, this goes to the crap-o-la that dumbinance preaches about all women naturally desiring a dominant man. If you are submissive, single, attracted to humans with penises, then you may want a dominant man as a partner but sorry Master Malarkey, not all women want a dominant man. There are women to want a submissive man because they are dominant and there are other women who are vanilla and do not want a dominant or take-charge guy (in vanilla terms). Now, this one blows the minds of the twue dumbinant, but not all women want, need, or are attracted to people with penises. As shocking as this news is, the twue dumbinant never grasps that all women do not want him, and there are women who are not attracted to humans that have baloney ponies and are involved in the lifestyle. Being dominant does not suddenly make someone so sexy that all the ladies of the world swoon when he passes near.

It is time to get into a bit of shady business and it is whatI call the Christian Grey effect since this has become fake news fodder since Fifty Shades of Hay descended upon the lifestyle. This twue dumbinance theory goes like this, all real dominant men are successful, wealthy, white-collar professionals and all a submissive needs to do is check the brand of cars driven, logos on clothes, and bank account balances to find out if a d-type is the real deal. So college students, construction workers, mechanics, HVAC techs, those who work in the trades, or an enlisted person in the military are all excluded from being d-types. This twue myth links career to the lifestyle and is simply rubbish because how anyone earns their living has nothing to do with the lifestyle or their role within it.

I would like to dedicate this tale to the submissive ladies out there. Okay, ladies, the reason why you have never had a successful relationship in the vanilla world is that men who are not dominant are scared of sex. Yes, ladies, it is twue, Vinny Vanilla is just soooo scared of sex that when you asked to be spanked, he ran home and cried to his momma. This tale tells that all vanilla men are scared of sex, sexuality and thus this lifestyle leaves them cowering in fear. The simple truth here is that if a person needs, wants, and desires to have this lifestyle be part of their relationship then engaging in a relationship with someone who is a vanilla bean is going to leave some things unfulfilled no matter if you are a dominant, submissive, switch, or any other lifestyle role.Once again, it is time to cause Master Malarkey’s mind to blow, vanillas can have sex, even kinky as heck swinging from the chandeliers sex, enjoy the living hell out of it, and some vanilla folks are even more sexually adventurous that lifestyle people. Sex is just sex and sex does not make a relationship nor does it mean that someone who is vanilla is scared of it.

Guess what readers, our guide to twue dominance is still hung up on sex, and get ready for some more sexciting news. Ladies, the good news is here! Your domly dream man is already god’s sexual gift because twue dumbinants are great in the sack, skilled in the art of making women orgasm, and will never engage in vanilla sex. I bet all the single, submissive women seeking d-type men and reading this are super excited to learn that he dominant of their dreams will never make love because whenever the bedroom boom-boom happens it will be of the kinky fuckery variety. A twue d-type must have had many sexual partners (seriously this part of the malarkey manifesto), so if you are a young man or a more life experienced man without a plethora of sexual partners, you better get out there, fornicate with as many willing women as you can find because until you have, you ineligible to be dominant. Did anyone else besides me facepalm here? Being male and dominant does not mean the guy has had many sexual partners nor does the role of dominant transform anyone into a sexual dynamo.

The menu of twue d-types is now moving a bit away from sex and into the realm of kinkicious play. The chef who created this dumbinant menu requires the man who wishes to attain twue dumbinance statues to acquire, have, and own accouterment of the lifestyle. If a dominant fails to have whips, chains, floggers, and the toy de jour then sorry Sir Charlie, a dominant you are not. I hope there is a collective of heads shaking because toys do not make a person, let alone a dominant. Maybe this ties back into the part of the myth about being Richie Rich and by having thousands of dollars in toys it is another symbol of wealth, success, and therefore dumbinance?

Whew, we are finally away from sex and toys (at least for now) but we do need to pause for a moment. Readers, please take this brief pause, to put your boots on because we are about to step into a few large piles of poops. Seriously, it is about to get worse…

Submissives, a twue dumbinant will select you. It does sound sort of nice and maybe a bit romantic to be selected by a dominant but there is a huge BUT here. Just like any relationship, a lifestyle relationship requires two people, or more if you are poly, to say I like you and want to be with you. Now it is time for that big but (Am I the only one here singing Sir Mix-A-Lot’s Baby Got Back now?). One of the most basic things in this lifestyle is that the submissive must offer their submission to the dominant of their choice. A dominant does not select, choose, or demand submission but it must be freely given by the submissive partner. So it may sound romantic to be selected by a d-type but this is rubbish. In my opinion, this is nothing more than a ploy to make it sound okay for a dumbinant to demand submission from a submissive.    

Everyone knows that humans are mistake-prone creatures and this mythology plays upon this. Remember a few points back when a twue d-type needed to be fabulously fornicating with many partners? Well, it is expected that one who follows this how-to guide would come from a background of many failed lifestyle relationships because the twue dumbinant will make mistakes along the way to the submissive they select. The thing here is that failed relationships might be labeled as mistakes sometimes but they are always life lessons. A broken relationship from the past is not something to chuck in the fuck-it-bucket and move forward. It is a lesson to learn as you move forward in life. What this myth is doing, I believe, is making people disposable as the twue d-type must fuck many, gain experience, before they “seize” the submission of who they select. This bit is just a way to justify the sordid past of a fuck boy. No more, no less.

So the break from sexy stuff did not last too long and this should give everyone a great laugh. The twue dumbinant will never, ever, never ask a submissive for nude or naughty pictures because d-types will “never beg” for anything. The twue man is soooooooo irresistible that a submissive who has conversations with him will just not be able to control themselves and will be “dying” to send him naked photos. Anyone else laughing out loud with me? So guys, if your inbox is not crammed with pictures of naughty bits every morning, the twue dumbinants are coming to take your dominant id card.

Remember when I warned about the poop level getting deep, well, here are the last two bits of the hit parade and it is going to get deep. I hope that everyone reading these words would agree with me that trust and honesty are hallmarks of a solid relationship and are even more important in a lifestyle relationship. So without further ado, it is time to get to the twue truth and it might hurt.

It is fairly common online to encounter a blog post from a submissive who discovered their dominant is actually in a relationship with someone else and they are simply the submissive side piece. Not to worry though because the twue dumbinant will never lie about being in a relationship because he will come right out and state he needs you to be his subbie side action, on the down-low. We should all applaud Mr. Twue for being honest with Subbie Susie, right? I am sorry but that is just crap. This lifestyle is all about being trustworthy and honest. So that is great that Twue has told Susie she is number two in his life, he still is being dishonest with number one in life (his wife) and is trying to build as well as lead a relationship that has a lie at its foundation. It is not going to work and Susie, you may think you are number two behind the wife, but depending on Mr. Twue’s day, you are number five or six.  

So, here is the last bit of twue d-type poppycock from this guide. It once again circles back to honesty. It has been established that it is acceptable for a twue dumbinant to be honest about being dishonest. Not only is that okay, but it is expected for the d-type to lie about somethings (Serious, a twue dumbinant will lie and it is supposedly okay). To paraphrase the twue example given (sorry this may gross a few of you out) but it is okay for a twuebie to say they agree with a submissive’s hard limit of no water sports but believe that swallowing a golden shower is right up that s-types alley (thus they are going to do it anyway). Relationships require honesty. It is that simple. Even hard questions such as does this make me look fat or aren’t you excited my mom is coming to stay with us for a month, can be answered with tact and honesty. There should never be a reason to disrespect a submissive by saying that you agree with a hard limit while plotting to make her swallow pee. It is simple, just be honest and say that you will respect the limit but also express if that is your thing, that it is a thing for you. Maybe someday the submissive will want to do to for you if you find yourself in a relationship with them. Be honest because if you are not your relationship will fail.

Okay, this concludes the busting of this twue dumbinant discovery guide. I know that it can sound amazing, especially if you are new, to have certain things to look for and/or lookout for. If you are new to the lifestyle, get to know people, ask questions, and learn from their experiences rather than read a blog post and think “oh that sounds good, I will go with this as a guide”. This guide about twue dumbinance has parts that sound great but when you dig closer, it is nothing but a document that excuses the behavior of fuck boys masquerading around the lifestyle as d-types. The thing about this lifestyle is that things may look amazing at first glance but you must always read between the lines as well as every bit of the fine print.

As with all of my writings, please see this disclaimer.

©TLK2021

[pengychan]

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 22

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N: Well, both the events in this chapter and the update were a long time coming. I promise you won't have to wait nearly as much for the next update. I am not sure that is a good thing.

Art is by @lunaescribe​ and @swanpit​

***

Later on, if he’d been in a joking mood - and he most definitely wouldn’t be - Ernesto may have joked that while many were saved by the bell, he was quite literally saved by the bull. Namely, by an especially unimpressive bull who seemed to be unsure as to what to do around a cow, no matter how absolutely eager said cow was to answer nature’s call.

“González wants us to go all the way to his farm and bless a bull, am I understanding this correctly?”

Juan spoke with about as much contempt as he was able to fit into each word, which was a fair lot of contempt. As Ernesto coughed into his hand to hide a laugh, Sofía shrugged.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, Padre. I am simply relaying the message González sent.”

The gringo scoffed, reaching up to rub his forehead. “Does he believe the church to be a joke, that he can call upon us to give a blessing to a bull who believes itself an ox?”

Ernesto chuckled. “Well, to be fair - don’t look at me like that, hear me out! A bull that cannot mount cows is a problem to anyone who makes a living out of their cattle. And the poor hombre spent a lot of his savings on that bull, so if it cannot do its job, that’s a loss he may not recover from anytime soon.”

His words seemed to make Juan marginally less offended, but the frown on his face did not entirely fade. “It still seems rather brazen, asking the church to get involved in such-- matters, Ern-- Father Ernest.”

“Desperate men will ask for any help they can get. Things have not been going all that well for anyone lately. And he does provide milk for the children in our care on Sundays,” Ernesto added, and mentally patted himself on the back when Juan’s scowl softened another fraction.

“... Fair enough. He has shown charity, at least. I cannot entirely fault him for being ignorant of what is and is not beneath the notice of God,” he declared. Behind him, Sofía pointed at her mouth and pretended to gag. Ernesto bit the inside of his cheek to remain serious, but any inclination to smile faded when Juan spoke again. “Well then, I suppose you may go and give this bull your blessing.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what? Me?” he protested. That was not a turn of events he had expected: the gringo knew any blessing he may give was entirely worthless, and-- ah, the pendejo. That was probably the point, giving González some peace of mind without anyone really giving God’s blessing to an impotent bull. 

Juan met his gaze with a raised brow, and for a moment Ernesto could have sworn he’d seen the barest hint of an amused glint in his eye. It almost distracted him from the broad grin on Sofía’s face as she watched the scene. Some friend she was.

The gringo nodded, folding his hands. “You spoke of this man’s plight with such fervor, it seems fair I let you go help him - if anything for his peace of mind.”

Ernesto groaned. To say the González farm was out of the way was an understatement: it was quite a way beyond the first hill south of Santa Cecilia. Truth be told, they tended to consider it part of Santa Cecilia only because it was no closer to any other village, and the family attended Mass and the market each week without fail. 

“But it’s almost an hour each way!”

“Two hours, most likely,” the gringo replied with a serene smile. Now the amused glint was… a lot more obvious. Oh, that bastard--! “Doctor Sanchéz borrowed the horse to send his assistant to buy some medical supplies in San Luz. You may have the donkey, though. Don’t push the poor beast, you know it’s elderly. If you get going now, you should make it back by sundown,” he added, making Ernesto rather wish he could grab the closest chair and slap him with it.

“But I-- I mean, surely it is not that urgent--” he tried to backpedal. He really was not looking forward to several hours riding a donkey under the merciless summer sun. Maybe on another day he could get a horse, or ride with the González family’s cart next time they--

“You should definitely be the one to go, Padre Ernesto. You have such a glowing track record with fertility blessings,” Sofía quipped, causing Ernesto to nearly choke on his spit and any words he’d been about to utter to die in his throat.

Entirely unaware of the meaning behind Sofía’s words - if rather taken aback to see one of the sisters taking his side over Ernesto’s in a discussion - Juan nodded. “See, Sister Sophie agrees,” he said, with a decisive nod that made it clear the matter was sealed. 

Sofía grinned. Ernesto forced a smile. Oh, he thought, I am going to kill her.

“... Of course. I will be happy to,” he spoke through gritted teeth. Sofía took that as her cue to disappear out of the door with one last grin in his general direction. As the door closed, he allowed himself to groan, no longer having to keep up the pretense of keeping up the pretense in front of Sofía. “Bastardo,” he muttered. 

Juan clicked his tongue, wagging a finger at him. “Language,” he chided. “If it is of any comfort, this also means you will be spared Latin for the day.”

“Does this mean you’ll make me study through the night once I’m back?” Ernesto grumbled, and the gringo gave a startlingly sincere laugh. Those had always been rare to come by, even more so after he learned the truth about him. Ernesto’s annoyance faded a little, and just a little.

“Hah! I thought about it, to be entirely sincere, but no.” He stood, giving his arm a light pat. “I will not put you through it tonight, either. We’ll both get to sleep.”

Somehow, he was both absolutely right and disastrously wrong at the same time.

 ***

Just as a very disgruntled Ernesto de la Cruz disappeared down the first hill south of the village on the back of an elderly donkey, Commander Santiago Hernández rode up the first hill north of the village at the head of a column of sweaty, angry men.

Fewer men than he’d have liked, truth be told. They had succeeded in pushing through the territories under the control of Zapatistas, but resistance had been fierce and their advance hadn’t been without sacrifices. The oppressive heat and the talk going around - they were losing the war, Huerta was going to fall any day now - did nothing to improve morale. 

But they had made through the worst, the scum who’d planned to ambush them had been tricked into waiting for them somewhere else entirely, and they had almost reached Santa Cecilia - where they would take supplies and some fresh recruits to replace their fallen comrades. Those things were occasionally offered, far more likely taken, but it did not matter. The end result was the same, and he let his men deal with it. 

What he usually kept himself occupied with was taking a very good look at every man he could find and asking everyone if a-- deserter traitor murderer -- man called Ernesto de la Cruz had sought refuge among them. He’d been lucky until then, evading detection, but his luck wouldn’t last forever, Santiago was certain of it. He didn’t allow himself to think he may be forever beyond his reach.

If only I had a photograph of that traitor, Santiago thought, not for the first time, but he chased away the thought. He did not have one; his name and a description was all that he had to work with, and it would have to do. 

Santiago frowned, and spurred his horse the last few yards of the way to the top of the hill. He stopped his horse, allowing himself to breathe in the faint breeze caressing his face.

Below him, in the merciless heat of a summer afternoon, lay Santa Cecilia.

***

If only he hadn’t been asleep, Miguel would think later, they would have never caught him. 

Granted, a tree branch is not a great place to take a nap. He wasn’t supposed to be asleep, they were playing hide and seek and he was really determined to win that round, so he’d climbed up a large tree at the base of a hill.

It was a really good hiding place, because the branches were wide enough for him to sit comfortably, back against the trunk, while the leaves beneath him hid him from sight. They hid him so well that he got bored of waiting to be found or for Felipe to give up, and he eventually dozed off. 

At least until he was startled awake by shouts and rancorous laughter, and the steady clap of more horse hooves than he’d ever heard at once. Somehow, he had enough presence of mind to understand who it had to be - Federales! - but not nearly enough to remember he just so happened to be on top of a tree branch when he tried to stand up to run back and warn everyone. 

“Aaaagh!” Miguel fell with a cry, hit a branch on his way down, and somehow managed to grab onto another before he had a very unpleasant meeting with the ground below. There were yells somewhere below him, and he knew he had been spotted. 

“Oye!”

“What the-- what are you doing up there, muchacho?”

“Odd bird, that!”

“Oh, bet I can get him down with one shot…”

“What?”

“Hey now, it’s just a kid--”

“A lookout, more like, and there may be more.”

“Put that pistol down, Mendoza, or God be my witness you’ll hang from that branch!” 

A voice rose over all the others, and the entire world seemed to go quiet. Miguel looked down, still reeling. A dozen men on horses were a short distance away from the tree, including a squat man quickly lowering a pistol, and more were coming down the hill. The men’s eyes were not on Miguel, however: they were looking at a tall, slender man with a closely trimmed mustache as he spurred his horse to walk beneath the branch Miguel was hanging from. Not a huge drop, but more than he’d like to risk.

“That doesn’t seem comfortable, niño,” he said, and it was only then that Miguel realized the thundering order not to shoot had come from him.  

I was almost shot. They almost shot me, Miguel thought. His blood ran cold, and he suddenly understood why Ernesto had been so scared. He’d always known, of course, but seeing them up close - finding how quickly a soldier could joke about shooting a child off a branch like ripe fruit - suddenly made it so real.

It could get me killed, Miguel, Ernesto had said. You must never say it aloud again.

“I… I was…”

“Keeping an eye out for us to come, all the way out here?” the man, clearly someone in command, asked. His voice was cold and Miguel swallowed, still holding onto the branch for dear life. If he so much reached up from atop his horse, he could pull him down by the legs. 

“N-no, señor,” he managed, his voice so small. “I... we were playing hide and seek. I hid.”

The man’s cold gaze remained fixed on him for a moment more, then it seemed to soften. “Well, if you hadn’t fallen, I wouldn’t have known you were even there,” he said, and smiled.

It was not an insincere smile, Miguel would think later, but there was something so fundamentally broken about it that he felt all the sweat on his skin had suddenly turned into frost. But at least, he thought, he’d stopped one of his men from shooting him dead. Was it because he balked at the idea of murdering a boy in cold blood? Was it because he thought there may be an ambush and a shot may alert anyone laying in wait of their presence? Miguel would never know, and at the moment he had no time to think about it. The man moved his horse closer, and held out his arm. 

“Come then, your arms look ready to give out,” he said. “We’ll take you back to your village.”

No, no, no. Keep away from there. Keep away from Santa Cecilia.

Miguel swallowed again, his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. “I…” he began, but he could think of nothing to say, and his arms finally did give out. The man caught him, his grip surprisingly strong for someone so slender, and pulled him to sit astride his horse as well. Miguel held onto the mane with shaky hands, looking down. He found himself thinking of the day he and Ernesto had met, when he’d saved him from the stream and let him ride on his horse - except that then he’d been elated, and now he was just terrified. 

Please God, make them go away. Make them go away without hurting anyone. 

“... Gracias,” he murmured, mostly to try and not anger him, and the man let out a noise that seemed almost a chuckle as he spurred the horse into moving again. He shouted an order for his men to get moving again, entirely ignored Miguel’s wince, and spoke again. 

“And what is your name, niño?”

“Miguel,” he mumbled. His throat felt like sandpaper, but the soldier kept talking like he hadn't noticed, or did not care, that the hands clenching the horse’s mane were shaking. 

“Just Miguel?”

“Sí.”

“Very well, Just Miguel. I’m Commander Santiago Hernández.” His tone was light, but the grip on the reins was tight, the arms at either side of Miguel unyielding. “So, hide and seek? With friends?”

“S-Sí.”

“A good hiding place. I was never much good at hiding when I was your age. Alberto always found me. Now I am the one doing the searching for him.”

Miguel blinked, confusion overriding the fear for a moment. He craned his neck to look back. “Searching?” he repeated. The man’s gaze was like steel, but as he looked down it softened… only a moment. Then the coldness was back, and something in the pit of Miguel’s stomach twisted. He looked away again. 

“For traitors. For one in particular, but any traitor will do.” A brief pause. “You seem like a smart boy,” he added, but Miguel didn’t feel smart at the moment. He only felt so stupid for just falling in the Federales’ hands as he had and so very, very scared. 

“I-- try to be.”

“You know many people in the village?”

Nearly everyone, but he knew better than to say it. Maybe he had some smarts left, after all. “A few. Not all that many, the Sisters keep us in the church,” he added, hoping it would make a good excuse. To his relief, Commander Hernández hummed in understanding. 

“Ah, nuns. I know what you mean. Does the name Ernesto de la Cruz ring any bells to you?”

Oh. Oh, no. Oh God, no.

It could get me killed, Miguel. You must never say it aloud again.

Miguel’s eyes stung with tears, but he was able to keep his voice from shaking too much as he spoke. “No, señor. I don’t think it does.”

“Are you certain? He is a deserter, and a dangerous man. A murderer. It is best for everyone that he is found and taken care of, don’t you agree? If he is here, your village is in danger.”

We are in danger now. If he finds him, he’ll kill him. If he knows we hid him, he’ll kill us all.

“Then I hope you find him,” Miguel managed, fighting back more tears while he watched the first houses of Santa Cecilia drawing closer as the column of men entered the main road in.

***

“... I still can’t believe we each thought the other was the one leaving behind the instructions.”

“Heh. And to think I knew your handwriting is better than… that.”

“Likewise. But I imagined you may have tried to disguise yours.” Imelda frowned a little, emptying the donation box into the basket - not a lot, few had much to give those days, but it would do and keep the poor fed - before returning it to its place. “It still irks me that we don’t know who it was.”

Héctor chuckled. “Maybe it was Cheech all along,” he said, knowing full well that despite being somehow able to read music sheets, the old gravedigger was damn near illiterate. Which was exactly the point Imelda made next. 

“Chicharrón doesn’t know how to write anything but his name, Juanita’s, and a few choice words he had the bad taste of teaching my brothers,” she muttered, then she paused, and raised an eyebrow. “... What is it?”

“Uuuuh,” Héctor managed, mind entirely blank of anything he had been thinking. Their church was small and not much to write home about, but it did have one stained glass window thanks to a glassworker who had died almost twenty years prior and who had made it to thank God for saving the life of his son after a bad accident with an angry pig. 

A claim doctor Sanchéz had hotly debated, that, considering that it had been him and not Jesus Christ to painstakingly sew torn flesh back together and throw iodine into any open wound, but his protests had been mostly ignored and their humble church now had a beautiful stained glass window, letting in soft light that made Imelda look like an angel straight out of-- well, no. Angels in the Bible were the things nightmares are made of, so not that. 

But God, she really was the most lovely being in all creation. 

A moment of silence, and then the most lovely being in all creation tilted her head on one side. “... Are you well? You look--”

“Beautiful,” Héctor blurted out, and Imelda let out a chuckle, a smile curling her lips.

“Well, I’ll admit you are a sight for sore eyes…”

Wait, what? Héctor shook his head, taken aback. “Wha-- no, not me. I mean, you. You-- beautiful,” he stammered. 

The songwriter, señores y señoras.

As his face made a valiant attempt at reaching the same temperature as the sun, Imelda laughed. “I know what you meant,” she said, and the smile on her face widened just a little. She reached to take his hand, and Héctor let her pull him closer as though in a dream. “I think I can get used to hearing you say that. Once this is all over.”

Ah-- ah, of course. Yes. Once this was all over, and Hurta and his Federales were gone, he would ask her to marry him, and she would say yes, and they would leave the Church - only to return for their wedding to be officiated, and… and…

The thought of seeing Imelda in her best Sunday dress standing beneath that same window, as his bride, made Héctor’s heart skip a beat. Imelda let go of his hand, and he immediately reached to cup her face.

You may now kiss the bride.

“I’ll tell you every day,” he promised. Oh they were so close, and alone in the empty chapel. Or rather under the eyes of God, but Héctor felt no shame over it. God would understand, and if He didn’t-- well, it didn’t matter. “Starting now.”

The coy expression on Imelda’s face had faded a little, her lips parting. She placed her hand on his arm, but didn’t try to push him away. Héctor dared lean in, she tilted her face up, and her eyes fluttered close, and--

“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME!”

“Gah!”

Héctor and Imelda came apart with a yelp, and turned towards the source of the voice. Said source was marching up towards them as though filled with the wrath of God, face somehow even paler than usual and eyes ablaze. “Brother Héctor! What is the meaning of this?”

Oh God. Face quickly turning a deep shade of purple, Héctor cleared his throat. By his side Imelda looked down in a way that may have looked demure, if not for the way the corners of her mouth curled upwards despite everything. It made Héctor struggle to keep himself from laughing. 

“Padre Ju-- I mean, Father John!” he exclaimed with a wide smile, hands clasped together. “I can explain.”

“Oh?” The gringo came to a stop in front of him with a huff, arms crossed full of judgment for someone who had been doing… the kind of thing Ernesto claimed they had been doing. “Then please, do explain yourselves!”

“Well…”

“Oh, I’m curious to hear this one,” another voice rang out, insufferably smug and awfully familiar. Héctor looked past the gringo to see Gustavo leaning on one of the front pews, a grin on his face. Had it been him to tell Padre Juan that he and Imelda were alone in the chapel? Of course it had been him, he only needed a look at his face to know it. That cabrón--!

Héctor opened his mouth to tell Gustavo exactly what he thought of him, but before he could spew out a series of expletives that would have probably resulted in his excommunication from the Roman Catholic Church, the chapel’s door was thrown open and someone ran in screaming. Felipe. 

“Federales!” he cried out, skidding to a halt on the polished floor. He was panting, hair sticking out in all directions and glasses askew, the sling holding up his broken arm having left an angry red mark on the side of his neck. “The Federales are here!”

Héctor’s blood ran cold and, for a moment, no one moved or spoke. All four adults stared at the panting boy, stunned incredulity on each of their faces. 

Just when it was beginning to look like Huerta is done for. Just when we thought we may have escaped them entirely. 

“Impossible!” Gustavo almost cried out, reaching to grab the boy by the shoulder. “They can’t be here! They were going to go through San Luz!”

How would you know?, Héctor thought, but he didn’t get to voice the question. The next moment Imelda was no longer by his side: she pushed past a still silent Father John to tear her brother from Gustavo’s grasp, and look at him in the eye.

“Where is Óscar?” she asked, fear plain in her voice. Her horror seemed to grow when Felipe swallowed and shook his head. 

“I-- I don’t know. They’re at the plaza, rounding up people--”

“What do you mean, you don’t know! You’re always together!” Imelda crouched before him, even though he was already taller than her. She looked like she was begging him for a different answer. “Do you know where he may be? He needs to go home. He needs to hide.”

“No, I-- we were playing hide and seek, and Miguel--” Felipe let out a shaky breath and looked over at Héctor, eyes huge behind his glasses. “Héctor, their leader has Miguel.”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Not Miguel. Please. 

The world around Héctor seemed to fade for a moment, and he seriously thought he may be about to faint; his ears were buzzing and his tongue felt too large. Children were not spared in that war, the Federles would take anyone who could hold a gun and make them fight.

I’ll fight. I’ll go. Just please, not Miguel. 

“Very well then.” Father John’s voice rang out, impossibly calm, the full weight of his authority behind it. They all turned to look back at him as though puppets pulled by the same string. His hands were clasped tightly together, his mouth pulled in a thin line; a grim resolve was etched on his every feature. “It seems I need to speak to their leader, then. Philip, you go home. I will handle this.”

Gustavo groaned, rubbing his face. “With all due respect, Padre,” he said, everything in his tone making it clear he didn’t think the respect he was due was all that much, “it may be best you don’t try to confront them.”

“How come?”

“They have a bone to pick with Americans after Veracruz. More than everyone else, I mean.”

The resolve on the gringo’s face did not waver. “Surely, the cloth I wear will mean something to them.”

“Well… I suppose, at least for some, but they don’t love the Church all that much…”

“Then it will have to do.” Father John turned to Héctor and Imelda, who was still kneeling before her brother. “... Do ensure the children here are safe. Your brother may already be safe, if he saw them coming. Philip, you go home. I will do all I can to… smooth things over.”

You were never able to smooth things over with any Mexican ever, Héctor thought, but didn’t get to say as much aloud. The gringo turned and marched out of the church, immediately followed by Gustavo, who was probably thinking someone should make sure he didn’t mess it up too badly. Too bad he was probably the second worst pick for the job. Or the third, if they counted in Cheech. As they walked off, Imelda looked back at her brother.

“... Keep to the back roads, and go straight home. Maybe Óscar is already there. Go out back, through the sacristy - quick!”

Felipe disappeared at the back, and Imelda turned to look at Héctor. She was pale as ash, but her jaw was set; all the terror that had filled her moments earlier had been pushed back. “... I’ll tell Sofía to try and hide the supplies in the basement as well as she can. I’ll go gather all the boys and bring them back to the orphanage. You… you get Miguel away from them.”

“I…” A shaky breath, and Héctor nodded. “Do you think… what if they’re looking for Ernesto?”

“Then thank God he’s all the way out there to bless a bull. We’ll all tell the truth - none of us knows anyone called Ernesto de la Cruz.”

“If someone mentions a Padre Ernesto…”

“It’s a common enough name, and no one would think a deserter and our parish priest are the same person. His plan may have really been stupid enough to work.” She squeezed his arm. “Now think of nothing but Miguel. I’ll see you both later.” A pause. “I love you.”

Héctor swallowed, and leaned for a quick brush of the lips before he tore himself away from her and ran down the church and outside, down the steps, heart hammering in his throat and only one thought in mind: find Miguel, and keep him safe. 

Whatever it takes.

***

“No one move, and no one will be harmed.”

Santiago’s voice rose over the plaza, met with almost complete silence from the people of Santa Cecilia - or at least those among them they had caught outside, at what looked like their weekly market - and seemingly went unheard by his men, who were busy taking as much as they could from the stands full of food and produce. Santiago did not try to stop them; they were fighting for Mexico, after all, and taking supplies was well within their rights.

If anyone was unhappy with that, they were smart enough not to voice it. 

“I am looking for a deserter,” Santiago spoke again, circling the small crowd, still atop his horse. The boy, Miguel, sat frozen before him. Part of him, the man he had been before the war, felt sorry for the situation he was in, but the much colder man he had become, the one who had survived this far, knew it was a matter of practicality. 

Having one of their kids on the horse with him made it… less likely for anyone to think of doing anything rash, such as pointing a gun in his general direction; it was a lesson he had learned after a bullet shot from a window had grazed at his right temple, leaving behind a rather unsightly scar.

Sorry, muchacho. I cannot afford to die. Not until Alberto is avenged.

“His name is Ernesto de la Cruz,” Santiago spoke the name loud and clear, so that all in the plaza could hear. “A large man, doesn’t go unnoticed. Black hair, brown eyes,” he added, painfully aware of how vague that was. “He had a beard, but he may have shaved it off. He is a murderer who did not hesitate to shoot a man in the back, and he’s dangerous. He needs to be put down as the rabid dog he is. If any of you is harboring him, you are not only committing treason - you are putting yourselves and your village at risk. So I ask you all--”

A sudden cry cut him off, followed by a laugh and a man’s furious voice. “Hey! Get your hands off-- agh!”

“Javier! No!”

Santiago turned to the source of the disturbance, as did the rest of the nervous crowd. A glance was enough to tell what had happened: one of his soldiers was still brandishing his rifle like a club, standing above a young man bleeding from the mouth while a girl with a torn blouse knelt over him, crying. He sighed. “... Mendoza. What did I tell you all about what you are and are not allowed to take from the towns we pass through?”

A grin. “Not my fault, Commander. This one was giving me the eyes. You know what I mean, no?”

Santiago gave him a frosty smile. “I understand. It has been a long march, hasn’t it? I believe you have dropped some cartridges.” 

“Huh?” Mendoza looked down, searching for cartridges on the dusty ground. Santiago pulled out his pistol. “Cover your ears, muchacho. And close your eyes,” he told Miguel, and did not wait to see if he’d obeyed: he just lifted his pistol, aimed, and pulled the trigger. 

There were a few cries, mostly covered by the loud bang, but Mendoza made no noise: he was thrown to the ground and jerked just once before he lay still. As those closer to the body tried to shift away without making themselves targets, Santiago put the pistol back and turned his gaze around, to his other men, who had stilled and were staring back in silence. 

“I trust you will need no more reminders to keep your hands to yourselves,” he said. Miguel was shaking on the saddle, hands on his ears. Santiago gave his head a reassuring pat before turning his horse to the side, so that the boy didn’t have the body in his line of sight. “Now - do any of you have any knowledge of the whereabouts of Ernesto de la Cruz?”

As the soldiers around them resumed taking all the supplies they could take, he stared at the face of every villager. They all avoided his gaze, and they all shook their heads. Santiago scowled, anger beginning to stir in his chest. So he wasn’t there, either? Had he once again failed to find him? Where had that bastardo gone?

“We need men, and any men we need we will take!” he screamed, circling them once again, and gesturing for some of his men to leave the plaza and search the houses around them for anyone trying to hide. Young children held onto their mothers’ gown, elderly people huddled together, women held onto the arm of grown men, and somehow that just infuriated him more. They looked at him like he was a monster, but it was all wrong. He was hunting for a monster. 

He was doing his duty, fighting for Mexico, risking his life - seen his friends die - and he’d even just protected one of theirs from his own man. Why did they look at him like that? What right did they have? How dare they? “If he is here, hand him over and none of yours will be taken! If you’re hiding him, you will all regret it!”

“Oh, quit yelling, will you!” a voice suddenly snapped. “There is no one by that name here. Now let the kid go.”

Santiago turned his horse, and found himself glaring down at a short, squat old man with a peg leg and a scowl on his face. “Cheech--” Miguel began, his voice shaking, but the man silenced him with a wave of his hand. 

“Grownups are talking,” he muttered, and looked back at Santiago. “Listen, we got no deserter here. No one moved in recently, and there are three Ernestos in all of Santa Cecilia. One is old enough to have been at Montezuma’s court, the other is a cobbler wider than he’s tall, and the third is a priest. There is no one called de la Cruz. If the man you’re looking for was here, we’d hand him over in a heartbeat to save our own. I know I would.”

That was true, and Santiago knew it; it was the reason behind his offer, after all. He had grown up in a village much like that one, and he knew how close-knit the community was. The choice between the safety of a newcomer and that of their own people was no choice at all. Still-- ah, it was infuriating. He kept slipping through the net, people looked at him like he was the monster, and it was all wrong. He had left home with Alberto trying to do the right thing. They had wanted to be heroes. Now Beto was dead, Nando was dead, and he… he...

If you think I’m the monster, then I intend to deserve it. 

“... Very well,” Santiago sneered, and dropped a heavy hand on Miguel’s shoulder, causing him to wince. “We need thirty able men. Twenty-nine, as it seems I already have a volunteer. Who else will join us and do their duty as Mexicans?”

The old man’s wrinkly face twisted in fury. “Miguel didn’t volunteer for shit!”

“Oh, but he did. Here he is, no? Boys younger than him have fought for the glory of Mexico. I’ll teach him all he needs to know.”

If looks could kill, Santiago would have probably dropped dead off his horse. He found he did not care - even if in the back of his mind he knew the boy was too young to make a decent soldier, even though part of him balked at the thought of forcing him into the front line. Maybe he would make himself useful as a messenger, something not as dangerous as fighting. Santiago would mull on that later; right now, he had to make a point - what the army needed, the army would take.

Not that the old bastard seemed to care for the point he was trying to make. “He won’t even be able to lift a gun. I know how to shoot. I’ll take his place.”

There were murmurs in the crowd, but Santiago laughed. “You? You’re missing a leg and look like you’re one step away from the grave. I said I need able men--”

“Get off that horse, and I’ll show you just how able--!”

“Commander! A word, if you please!” 

A voice called out before Santiago could seriously consider pulling out his pistol and blowing off the idiot’s bald head. It wasn’t just any voice: this one had a strong, distinctive accent. Slowly, he turned back to face the man who had spoken and, for a moment, he thought he must be dreaming. 

Before him, clad in black priestly robes, stood a gringo.

***

“Well well, what have we got here?”

Sofía froze, the box full of cartridges still in her arms. She slowly turned to see a soldier of the Federal army at the door, rifle in hand, looking around the cellar. 

How in the world had he found his way there? Were there more? Had Imelda managed to get the children to safety on time? Feeling as though her stomach had turned into a block of ice and mentally cursing - she had almost managed to move everything! - Sofía managed to smile. “Good afternoon. I am afraid you may be in the wrong place. This is the parish’s--”

“I am here to requisition supplies,” the man cut her off. “What is in there? Food?”

Well, that was it. She needed to come up with something quickly, because if the man so much caught a glance of what was really in those boxes, she and probably the entirety of the parish would end up before the firing squad before the sun had time to set. 

I can’t believe I saved Ernesto’s life by having him sent off to heal a bull’s masculinity.

"These donations are for the house of God to help the poor, I am afraid. I cannot let you take them,” she said in her best apologetic tone. “I am certain you understand, our mission--”

"Move aside."

Ah, so that was how it had to be. "... No."

"It is for the glory of Mexico."

"What of the glory of Heaven?"

"You want to go meet that glory, sister?" The soldier snapped, and raised his rifle so that Sofía could stare right into its barrel. It looked impossibly large, impossibly black. If those men held no respect for the Church, there truly was no defense left. "What about now?"

"... It seems I misspoke."

"Of course you did."

"What I meant to say is, absolutely not. Have you no shame?"

The man glared daggers at her, and Sofía could only hold her breath, praying that he did have at least some reservations over shooting a nun after all. He hesitated, so maybe her gamble had paid off. Maybe she could still find a way--

“Ah, here you are! I thought I had seen one of the heroes of Mexico coming in here!”

Gustavo’s voice caused Sofía to blink and the soldier to turn, rifle up. On the doorway, Gustavo held up his hands with a smile. “No need to shoot, I am here to offer help,” he said, as though having a rifle pointed at his face was not bothering him at all. “As the sister correctly said, these are the supplies for the church - but we do have some food and medical supplies aside I am sure you could use.”

“Hhm. Do you now?”

“Of course. I am the sexton here, and I have been keeping some supplies aside just in case you happened to come through our humble village,” he added. The soldier slowly lowered his rifle, and Sofía blinked. She knew Gustavo was a cabrón, but a supporter of the Federal Army of all things? God, had he been working for them all along? How much did he know--

“Now, sister Sofía, we’ll leave you to finish your good work,” Gustavo added, taking a step towards her and taking her hands. “You were always such a tireless servant of the Church, may God bless you.”

Sofía opened her mouth to ask if he’d hit his head, but promptly shut it when she felt something being pushed against her palm - a folded piece of paper. She looked up and shared a long, serious look with Gustavo before he let go of her hands and led the soldier outside, all smiles and questions about his bravery in battle.

Only once she was alone again, heart hammering in her throat, did Sofía unfold the piece of paper to read the message hastily scribbled on it, in the same handwriting she had seen several times. It looked identical to the one in the instructions Imelda had been receiving for months, coordinating their help to the revolutionaries and their cause. 

Once they have left, ring the bell to a death toll and don’t stop. Help will come. Tell them to follow the trail. They’ll know.

***

Truth be told, Father John Johnson knew he had very few chances of succeeding.

Gustavo was right: Americans were particularly hated since their attack on Veracruz, and there was little love between Huerta loyalists and the Catholic Church. However, most if not all those men had been raised to go to Mass, and respect God’s servants; the presence of a priest still inspired at least some measure of deference, if the way the soldiers moved aside to let him pass was anything to go by.

And within moments it was obvious, just from the furious glare he received, that the cloth he wore was the only reason why their commander hadn’t shot him on sight. 

“What is a gringo doing here?” the man scoffed, and moved the horse to tower over John. Gripping the horse’s mane, Miguel looked down at him with wide, terrified eyes; John gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and looked back up at the commander.

“I serve at this village’s parish,” he said, his voice quiet. “Most call me Padre Juan. I am here to see if there is anything I may do to assist you, and protect my flock at the same time. Certainly an arrangement can be made.” Anything, he thought, anything to save my flock.

The commander scowled. “Protecting them is what we have been doing all along,” he snapped. Around them soldiers were dragging in more men and boys they must have torn out of their homes, forcing them in the plaza, separating all men from the women, the elderly, and children too young to hold a rifle. A few people cried out, but most were silent and still under the threat of firearms. “It is time they do their part for their country. This war may have been over already if not for your kind, sticking your nose in places where it doesn’t belong!”

John drew a long breath. “I do understand. The attack against Veracruz was unfortunate--”

“THE ATTACK AGAINST VERACRUZ WAS SLAUGHTER!” the man screamed suddenly, causing John to wince - but he did not turn, did not flee. He couldn’t, no more than the shepherd can run from the flock and leave it at the mercy of wolves. There was something in his voice that went beyond anger, raw and full of pain. 

“... It was. I pray for all the lives lost that day, that God may take them in his glory,” he said, bowing his head. “Anything I may do would be a drop in the ocean, but if there is anything you require of me-- please, do tell me.”

The man paused, seemingly taken aback by the humble response. The scowl remained etched on his face, but the fury in his eyes burned a little less brightly. After a brief silence, during which one could hear a pin drop across the plaza, he spoke again. 

“... You said you serve this parish. You must have heard confessions. Know everything about everyone.”

“I do, sir.”

“Do you have any knowledge of a man called Ernesto de la Cruz hiding nearby?”

Ernesto.

A cold, cold hand grasped John’s hand, and squeezed. He wanted to scream, to cry, to curse at the choice put before him - one he had hoped he would never have to make. He was relieved he had sent him away at a distant farm; he was horrified he may now have to be the one to give him away. Would that man be sated, if he got his hands on him? Would he leave the rest of Santa Cecilia alone? Could he trade the life of one for the lives of many?

There is no place in Mexico that is safe, Ernesto had said. I’m done for the moment you speak.

If the Federal army finds me, I’ll hang. 

For all the turmoil in his soul, John managed to let nothing show. He looked up again, hands clasping together. “This man’s crimes must have been grievous--”

“He is a deserter, and he murdered a man far better than himself to escape.” The pain was in the commander’s voice again, a bleeding, open wound. “He must hang for it.”

They won’t give me the kindness of making it a clean fall with a broken neck, he’d said.

“... I see,” John said, and drew in a deep breath. He let his gaze wander around, across the faces of the men gathered by the soldiers - oh Lord, young Óscar was among them, eyes wide and scared behind his glasses - as he silently begged forgiveness from each of them. Anything to save his flock, he’d sworn to himself and to God, but this - this he could not do. Ernesto was of his flock too, the lost sheep. Whatever the consequences, they would be his own to live with. 

Finally, he looked up again to meet Miguel’s gaze - and to his utter astonishment, Miguel met his gaze… and shook his head, so slightly. 

Don’t tell him.

He knows.

Shock was almost great enough to make John lose his composure, but just almost. He sighed, and shook his head. "I am sorry, commander," he heard himself saying, his own voice distant. "I know no man by such name."

All at once, any humanity that has seemed to have returned to the man’s eyes was gone. “I see. Well, thank you for your useless intervention. Twenty-nine more men!” he screamed, turning to the soldiers. He turned his horse and John acted out on instinct, reaching up to grab the reins.

“Miguel is only a child!” John exclaimed, holding onto the reins despite the commander’s effort to tear it from his grasp. Only a child who reminded him of another he’d been forced to leave behind so long ago. 

Michael was so young, I don’t know if he even remembers me. I don’t even know if they’re all still alive. It’s been so long.  

But Miguel was there, alive, in need of help. “He’s only nine - and the boy over there with the glasses - they are still too young for this war. In God’s name--”

“God cares not for what happens here! Go preach to someone else, gringo! Let go!”

“For your own soul, if not for their lives! They’re children!”

“Let go, or I’ll shoot the boy in the head right now!”

“You monster! What sort of beast--”

“ENOUGH!”

There was the gleam of metal in the sun, a deafening bang, and screams. A terrible force knocked John back in the dust, tearing all breath out of his lungs. The sun filled his eyes for just a moment, impossibly bright, before cobwebs of darkness clouded his vision. He felt a terrible heat, something filling his mouth and soaking through his clothes. Thoughts ran through his mind like galloping horses, disjointed and increasingly muddled.

Is this it? Is it the end?

I will never see them again.

I am going to Hell, aren’t I?

Oh thank God, thank God he didn’t shoot him.

More cries, and a voice above all others, crying out Miguel’s name, full of the anguish only a father can feel. Hector's voice.

I am sorry, John tried to say, but all that left him was a gurgling sound. I couldn’t do it. 

Yet even now, as he slipped out of consciousness, as he begged for God’s forgiveness and for those boys’ safety, he knew he could not regret his choice to give Ernesto a chance to save himself. If it cost him Hell, so be it. He would take the punishment.

Keep them safe, John begged without words, and dropped his head on the cobblestones, letting himself fall into nothingness as the screams around him faded into silence.

***

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A/N: Have some additional art by @whattimeisitintokyo​ to, uh, lighten up the mood, I guess?

[thegreenwolf]

(This post was originally posted on my blog at https://thegreenwolf.com/its-okay-to-not-hustle/)

There’s this meme going around Facebook right now, saying “If you don’t come out of this quarantine with a new skill, your side hustle started, or more knowledge, you never lacked time. You lacked discipline.” Thankfully multiple people have already skewered it, but it continues to be shared around by the sort of person who is trying to one-up everyone else, or who’s just plain clueless–or, for that matter, just trying to guilt you into buying whatever they’re selling.

Now, there’s not a damned thing wrong with self-promotion. That’s how indie artists, authors, and other self-employed folks get the word out. You have to be able to talk good talk in order to get people’s attention. But leading with this meme? Guilting people for not leaping from sudden unemployment straight into the thick of the ever-shifting gig economy? That ain’t gonna fly, Brocephus.

You Have Good Reasons to Slack

Excuse me while I dust off my counseling psych degree a sec, here. *ahem* We are in a very sensitive, turbulent time right now. We’re in the middle of a pandemic, the likes of which hasn’t been seen in a century in the Western world. We are in a hugely traumatizing situation here. Not just for the financial losses, but the fact that COVID-19 has killed thousands of people and left many more with permanent lung damage. We still haven’t gotten a handle yet on exactly how contagious this thing is, how long you’re contagious for, or whether you’re immune once you’ve had it, assuming you survive. We don’t have adequate testing, emergency rooms estimate that for every positive test there are 10-20 people out there infected and untested, and everyone with a cough is suddenly Schroedinger’s COVID case. Governments worldwide are slow to react in spite of the rising death toll. People have had friends and family die horribly from this thing in a short period of time. Even people who didn’t already have issues with anxiety, depression and other mental illnesses are feeling stressed, strained and scared–and, yes, traumatized. This image is guilt-tripping people who are actively being traumatized.

So we’re already starting with a populace that is dealing with this collective trauma, as well as whatever personal trauma each individual is experiencing. Not always easy to seize the day when you’re going through that. And I can think of a few other reasons that might further complicate this whole “Just get a side gig!” thing:

–They’re a parent who suddenly has all their kids at home, all the time, demanding time and attention and food, AND they still have to work eight hours a day from home, or maybe even more if their S.O. is unemployed/sick/etc. By the way, if someone trots out Isaac Newton or William Shakespeare or some other historical guy who managed to do epic things during a pandemic, remember that they usually had wives or servants to do all the laundry and cooking and cleaning and (if applicable) childcare for them.

–They’re disabled or chronically ill, and don’t have the ability/energy/etc. to just go and make something happen, just like that. Imagine if you just randomly got the fatigue from a really bad flu, and you never knew whether it was going to last a day or a month. And if you tried exerting yourself when you were feeling better, chances are you’d slip back into fatigue-land. That’s what a lot of my chronically ill/etc. friends have to deal with, to say nothing of issues with accessibility of resources for starting a side gig.

–They don’t have any money for the supplies needed to start a side hustle, or the supplies have been hoarded by hobbyists preparing for a Pandemic Staycation.

–They don’t have the skills for something that just requires what they already have (like, for example, writing on a laptop you already happen to own). Often these skills are things that can’t be perfected in a few weeks at home, but may take years to develop before they’re really marketable–like, for example, the skill to make a decent living on side hustles.

–They have anxiety, depression or other mental health conditions that make it hard to function even in the best of times, but even moreso in this…well…mess. Even people who were mentally healthy before are going to be developing diagnosable anxiety and depression disorders before all’s said and done. And speaking from personal experience, those of us who look successful on the outside can still be internally hamstrung by these conditions at times.

–Plus there’s the fact that we’re not supposed to, you know, leave our homes, which narrows down the field of potential side gigs by a lot.

Even doing something less financially-wrought like learning a new skill or subject takes time, energy, and sometimes money, any or all of which may be scarce for the reasons above and more.

Comparison is the Thief of Joy

I am saying all of this as someone who is arguably an expert on the side gig. I have spent the past eight and a half years 100% self-employed (and a lot longer doing it part-time) as an author and artist, able to cover all my bills and expenses, and for a time I was the primary breadwinner of a multi-person household. I have like ten different things I was doing for a living before this all hit, a pretty diverse set of streams of income, even if most of them just up and evaporated in the past few weeks. And while I’m definitely a hell of a lot leaner now than I was a month ago, I still have my head above water for the moment. So I think I know side gigs.

I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m overall healthy. I have a dog who is a lot less demanding of my time than kids would be. I have my own space where I can focus more or less without interruption. More importantly, I have the skills, the knowhow, the drive and the personality to go out and seek new opportunities. And I’m used to fluctuations in income, though admittedly this one’s unprecedented. Don’t gauge yourself by where I am now. I’ve spent twenty-two years building up my art business, my first book came out in 2006, and I’ve had a series of really good opportunities come my way that I had the privilege to be able to make the most of. I am not your measuring stick, so don’t say “Well, if she can do it why can’t I? I must suck!”

If you’re feeling crappy because you aren’t hopping to it and carpeing the diem and getting everything done, here’s what I have to say to you: Look, you just had your world turned upside-down. Job loss, scarce commodities, sudden lack of outside childcare, restricted movement and inability to be around much of your support system, and did I mention a pandemic is happening, too? Any single one of those things would be difficult for just about anyone to deal with, never mind all at once. And I don’t even know what all else has already been going on in your life–unstable or unsafe living situation, other health issues, breakups and other losses, interpersonal conflicts. You know, normal life stuff.

You’re Not Lazy, or Screwing Up, or (Gods Forbid) Undisciplined

It is totally okay if all you’re doing right now is surviving. It’s okay if you feel like you’re drowning, overwhelmed by all that’s happening both on a global level and more personally. It’s okay if all you can manage right now is to get out of bed and stumble through each day a moment at a time, struggling with a tidal wave of emotions. It’s okay if you’re just trying to keep your kids busy, dealing with a crowded home every single day, or trying to keep COVID-19 at bay. It’s okay if, instead of firing up DuoLingo or opening an Etsy shop, you spend your evenings vegging to Netflix or reading a book or playing hours and hours of Animal Crossing.

Not every moment in your life has to be about being productive even in the best of circumstances, and that goes exponentially so right now. Be patient with yourself, and be kind. You may be one of those folks who literally has to spend all their time scrabbling to try to cover the bills or get some leeway from bill collectors, and you have to dedicate your waking time hunting for resources just to try to get through this week. Believe me, I feel for you, I have a lot of friends in that situation right now, and I hope all of you can find some relief and assistance.

May I suggest something? If you have the energy for something more than the bare essentials of getting by, put that energy toward self-care, whatever you can manage under the circumstances. You can use it to recuperate, to rebuild your emotional and physical resilience. That way if things get rough again in the future, you have more internal reserves to build on. If your usual methods don’t work or aren’t accessible due to lockdown, ask others what they’re doing to keep themselves grounded in this trying time.

Just because you have more time doesn’t mean you don’t have to throw yourself right into something productive! Don’t feel pressured to just go-go-go the moment you have a little freedom to move. If you do decide you want to try a side gig, or a new skill, or learn all about some specialized topic of interest, go for it! If you have the energy and attention and opportunity to pursue something new, it can be a great coping skill during this traumatic time. Just don’t pressure yourself; keep it fun.

One last thing: I want you to save the image I have at the top of this post. And then if you see someone post that meme, saying “Come on, you lazy bums, get up and make that side gig happen! Learn new stuff! Do all the things! No excuses!” you pull out this version, and you look at the edits, you remember that it’s okay to be where you are, and you get back to doing things at your own pace no matter what someone else says. (I find visualizing stapling a printout of the edited version to the offender’s forehead to also be therapeutic, but that may just be me.)

Hang in there, okay? It’s going to be a rough time, but you’re not alone, and what you’re feeling right now is shared by so many people. So just let yourself be where you are in this moment, and we’ll see what hope tomorrow brings. And remember that whatever you’re capable of in this moment: it’s enough.

Did you enjoy this post? Please consider supporting my work on Patreon, buying my books here on my website, buying my art and books on Etsy, or tipping me at Ko-fi!

[queenlua]

You're a druid and an ex-evangelical, right? What does being a druid mean to you? How did you get from evangelicalism to where you are now? And of course feel free to ignore this if it's nosy. (sincerely, a Christian who wants to leave but who doesn't know what to do)

this is going to make me sound ignorant as hell, lol, but i'm happy to share

under a cut because this got very long, sorry, lol.

my personal progression was: "vaguely christian -> VERY christian -> christian agnostic -> agnostic/atheist -> agnostic/druid -> some sorta druid-neopagan-animist thing."  i guess i'll just go through what made me switch between each of those, and close out with some high-level thoughts that may be helpful for you?

okay, so when i was

VAGUELY CHRISTIAN,

i went to Sunday school every week because That's What You Do, and because my whole hometown was very southern Baptist, i never questioned the veracity of its teachings much... until they ran a whole weekly series on "why [x] is wrong," where [x] is some other group

e.g., we had a week on why Mormons are wrong, and i didn't bat an eye because i hadn't even known Mormons existed until that moment

then we had a week on why Muslims are wrong, and that... bothered me, because i had a friend who was Muslim, and she was just objectively a better person than me, and i was like "any universe where she goes to hell and i don't seems really fucked up"

then we had a week on why EVOLUTION was wrong, and that just absolutely threw me, because while i hadn't thought about evolution much (i think i was in fourth grade or so), it seemed common-sense? scientists thought highly of it? "adaptation over time" just seems logical?

so i went to the public library every day after school for like a week, read some Darwin and some science books, and came back to my Sunday school teacher with, like, an itemized list of objections to the whole "evolution is wrong" thing.  and he came up with some standard Answers In Genesis rebuttals, and i did more research and came back the next week with more science, and we repeated this a few times until he was like "lua, you just gotta take some things on faith"

which.  lmao.  full existential crisis time, because no matter how hard i thought, i couldn't *not* believe in the science, but i also didn't want to go to hell, so i was like "maybe if i believe SUPER HARD i will SOMEDAY be able to unbelieve the condemn-me-to-hell bits"

so i decided to become

VERY CHRISTIAN

and my frantic googling for shit like "proof of god" and "god and evolution" *eventually* broke me out of the Answers In Genesis circles of the internet, and into some decent Christian apologia, like, think First Things and various Catholic bloggers.  and there, i found some way to square my gut sense that evolution was right, with a spiritual worldview.

like, i remember finding some blogger who said:

"young earth creationists get tripped up when they try to explain stars that are millions of light-years away, and end up basically arguing that God's tricking us somehow, and—no!  my God lets you believe in the evidence of your eyes, my God does not demand that you make yourself ignorant or stupid, my God expects you to use your brain"

and i just started crying at my computer, because no one had ever said "using your brain is Good and part of God's will," i was like *finally* here's someone who won't tell me i'm going to hell for just *thinking* about things

(st. augustine does a much better riff on a similar theme, fwiw, but i only found him later)

still, it was an uneasy fit, because, the more i learned and read about world history, the more it seemed... weird... that the One And Singular Path To Salvation was... the successor to some niche desert cult... which didn't even occur at the *beginning* of written history, like, it was all predated by that whole Mithraism thing, etc... and like, sure, i could trot out all the standard theological talking points for why Actually This Makes Perfect Sense, but gut-level-wise, the aesthetics just seemed kinda dumb!  and no level of talking myself out of it made that feeling go away!

so at this point i started referring to myself as a

CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC

i mean, not aloud.  i still lived in southernbaptistopia and i didn't want, like, my hair stylist to tell me i was a horrible person.  but in my *head* i called myself Christian agnostic and it felt right.

and i started church-hopping, which honestly was really fun, would recommend to anyone at any point.  i visited the fire-and-brimstone baptist church, the methodist church, the episcopalians, the universal unitarians, etc.

unfortunately, while this gave me *some* new perspectives, each of the places either had the same shitty theology as my old megachurch (i remember the *acute* sense of despair i felt when i was starting to jive with a methodist church... only for the dumbass youth minister to start going on about evolution), or, they just lacked any sense of the *sacred*.  like, the Church of Christ churches, with their a capella services, *definitely* had it; i felt more God there in one service than i did in a lifetime of shitty Christian rock at the megachurch.  but their beliefs were even *more* batshit, so.  big L on that one.

having failed to find a satisfactory church, i was basically

AGNOSTIC/ATHEIST

by the time i went to college, but honestly pretty unhappy about it; while it was harder than ever for me to actually *connect* with the divine, i didn't like thinking that my previous experiences of the divine were total lies.  because my shitty evangelical church, for all its faults, could not *completely* sabotage the sense of God's presence.  there were real moments in that church where i do believe i experienced something divine.  mostly mediated by one particular youth minister, who in hindsight was the only spiritual teacher in that church who didn't seem a bit rotten inside, but!  it was something!

so when i happened upon a bunch of writings on the now-defunct shii.org (that's the bit that makes me look WILDLY ignorant, lol), i was utterly captivated.

said author was a previous archdruid of the Reformed Druids of North America, an organization that was formed in the 1960s to troll the administration of Carleton College (there was a religious-service-attendance requirement; they made their own religion; their religion had whiskey and #chilltimes for its services).  however, this shii.org dude seemed to take it pretty seriously.  he was studying history of religion and blogged a lot about his studies, both academic and otherwise.  while RDNA had started out as a troll, that didn't mean they hadn't *discovered* something real in the process, he said.

this, already, was going to be innately appealing to me; i've got a soft spot for wow-we-were-doing-this-ironically-but-now-it's-kinda-real? stuff in general.

in particular, shii.org’s discussions on the separation of ritual from belief was really interesting to me: most religions/spiritualities have *both*, but like, you can do a ritual without having the Exact Right Beliefs (if there even is such a thing!), and it can still be useful to you, it can have real power.  (he had a really lovely essay, speculating on the origins of religion as just a form of art, but that essay is now lost to the sands of time, alas.)

(note that i wouldn't really recommend seeking out *recent* writing by the shii.org guy; he kinda went full tedious neoreactionary-blowhard-who-reads-a-lot-of-Spengler at some point?  sigh.)

the shii.org guy led me to checking out a bunch of books on the history of neopaganism & also books by scholars of religion in general, and the more i read, the more excited i became.  and i started doing little ritual/meditation stuff here and there.

then i was fortunate enough to attend some events with Earthspirit (this was when i lived in Boston), which cemented my hippie dalliances into something more real.  the folks there, being from Boston, were all ridiculously overeducated (a sensibility that appeals to me), but also, being the kind of folks who drive out to a mountain in the middle of nowhere for a spiritual retreat, they tolerated a full range of oddities (everyone from aging-70s-feminist-wiccans to living-on-a-farm-with-your-bros-Astaru to dude-who-started-having-weird-visions-and-is-just-trying-to-figure-out-the-deal to Nordic-spiritualist-with-two-phds-from-Scandanavian-universities-on-the-subject, etc), which gave me a lot of room to explore different types of rituals, ceremonies, "magic", etc.

(polytheism in general lends itself well to this sort of easy plurality!  i can believe other people are experiencing something real with their gods, and i can be talking to a totally different set of gods, and that’s just all very compatible, etc)

anyway, i started calling myself

AGNOSTIC/DRUID

around then, because i knew i'd found *something*, something that felt like all the realest moments i'd ever had in nature, and all the realest moments i'd ever had in that shitty megachurch, but i wasn't quite ready to put a theology to it.

but, idk, you do the thing for a while, and you start encountering some things that you may as well call gods, and you realize you're in pretty deep, and you ditch the "agnostic" bit and just throw hands and start describing yourself as

SOME SORTA DRUID-NEOPAGAN-ANIMIST THING

because that's the most precise thing you can muster.  in particular, the druid bit resonates because nature's still very much at the center of my practice; the neopagan bit resonates because i'm not especially interested in reconstructing older traditions or being faithful to any actual pre-Christian traditions, and animist resonates because what i sometimes call gods seem to be tied pretty tightly to the land itself.  it's all very experiential; all this mostly means i'm some weird chick who sometimes grabs a car and drives out someplace very lonely and hikes for a while and does some hippie shit to try and talk with the land or the god or whatever is there.  and sometimes i come back from it changed, or refocused, or what-have-you, and hopefully i'm better for it.  i'm aware this makes me look a little ridiculous, and is an unsatisfying answer, sorry!

WRT YOUR SITUATION

i don't know you or your situation, obviously, but if i wanted to give former-me some advice to save her some angst, i'd say

-> Christendom itself is far wilder and more diverse than many churches lead you to believe.  if you still want to be Christian on some level, and it's just a shitty church that's convinced you the whole project is fucked, i'd honestly explore, i dunno, your nearest Quaker meeting.  they're invoking the Holy Spirit with regularity but they're not raging douchenozzles about it.

-> if you're specifically interested in druidism, i found John Michael Greer's "A World Full of Gods" really nice.  (caveat: Greer has *also* gone full right-wing nutjob these days, sigh, so like.  would not recommend a great swath of his writing.  but that one's good)

-> deciding that a just God wouldn't give me a brain and then ask me not to use it was hugely comforting to me.  like, that was the start of the whole process, that was what made me feel ok searching for other churches and trying to find something that fit.  obviously you should take this with 800 grains of salt, because obviously i'm no longer Christian, and thus maybe i'm just some poor misguided fallen soul, but... i still kinda believe that!  maybe if you can make yourself believe that, it'll seem less scary?

idk, happy to answer more questions, sorry for the long ramble, hope it helped~

[floraone]

So, September is coming up, and with it smutember, and we’re doing it again! (At least I hope you’re with me, lol).

Just like last year, it runs alongside to the official daily word prompts on the official smutember blog: Smutember is an event that runs all throughout September for all fandoms. The following is meant as an addition, not a replacement. If you want to do daily prompts, please use the official words prompts (linked above). However, since daily prompts can be a bit intimidating (especially for a fandom corner that’s 25+ years old like ours and people in it have busy lives), as the resident smut advocate in our fandom, I again customized an alternative that can still incorporate the official themes.

Just like last year, down below you have a list of TROPE AND THEME PROMPTS. They’re a remix of sorts of last year’s tropes, with some you’ve seen before and some new ones, meant to spark a variety of ideas. The idea is that with these you can post once (or twice) per week instead of daily.

Be it for fanart or fanfic or any other sort of fanwork, tropes can be combined, (and they can be combined with the daily themes too), whatever floats your boat. Also, specifically: This event isn’t Usamamo-centric only. I will reblog any Sailor Moon content of any pairing as long as it follows the rules! (See below)

The aim of this event is to create sex-positive content together that celebrates a healthy depiction of consentual sexuality. Erotic fanfiction is a beautiful art, especially in a fandom of ours so largely cultivated by women and for women, as well as a strong inclusive focus on queer and gender-queer content and their creators!

What’s new: I’m taking a page out of the mini-bang’s impressive book, and when smutember is over, I will compile all entries that followed the rules into an online-only e-zine! This also means that art that may be too explicit for tumblr can still be included in the e-zine!

Here are the weekly trope challenges:

Reinvent a trope!

WEEK 1 (September 1st - 7th): Pick 1 or 2

🍋 Reunion Sex 🍋 Sex Fails 🍋 Second Chance Sex 🍋 You Talk In Your Sleep 🍋 Unresolved Sexual Tension 🍋 New Old Flame 🍋 Go Seduce My Archnemesis 🍋 Bedsharing 🍋 Sex with the Ex/Break-Up Sex 🍋 In Public 

WEEK 2 (September 8th - 14th): Pick 1 or 2

🍋 Make-Up Sex 🍋 Battle Couple 🍋 Mission Sex 🍋 Work-Out Sex 🍋 Accidental Pervert 🍋 Bathing/Shower 🍋 Pool/Onsen 🍋 Sexual Fantasies 🍋 Blind Date 🍋 Aroused By Your____ (pick a feature) 

WEEK 3 (September 15th - 21st): Pick 1 or 2

🍋 Established Relationship 🍋 “Thank God We’re Alive” 🍋 Caught In The Act 🍋 First Times 🍋 Introduction By Hook-Up 🍋 Pining 🍋 Locked In Together In A Small Space/ Trapped Together 🍋 Huddling For Warmth 🍋 Socially Distanced Sex 🍋 Stupid Sexy Friend 🍋 Caught In The Rain 🍋 Living Food Platter/Eating Off You 🍋 Shunga

WEEK 4 (September 22nd - 30th): Pick 1 or 2

🍋 Mutual Masturbation 🍋 Awkward/Clumsy Sex 🍋 Oh Crap There’s Fanfic Of Us 🍋 Talking In Bed 🍋 Fidelity Test 🍋 Fake-NOT-Dating 🍋 Mindlink 🍋 Sex Games 🍋 Tinder 🍋 Blackout/Quarantine/Disaster Warning/Weathering The Storm

RULES

1. Rating: These fics don’t necessarily need to be M or, in the case of Ao3, E- rated. Obviously, they are very, very welcome to be explicit for this event, but you can also go T-rated and stay in lime or ‘blacked out’-territory if you’re uncomfortable with writing explicit scenes! Both is perfectly and absolutely welcome! This of course also goes for fanart - your fanart may depict sexy scenes, but does NOT have to be explicit! (It can, though! Be aware that for tumblr’s guidelines, when sharing your art first, you may have to clip your images as a sort of preview. The original can then be sent to me privately to include into the e-zine!) 2. Minimum Age of Characters: Since this is a community event, if you do go explicit M rated material: age them up where necessary! So that everyone can be comfortable writing and reading these, let them be 18 at the minimum if they’re going to openly and explicitly wohoo. (16-17 is the global average age of consent worldwide, and also the average age for first sex among girls in many western countries. However, since most fanfic readers are located in the US, where the age of consent is 18, we’re going with 18 so that everyone can be comfortable reading!) If you go for canon fics at a time they are below this age, where you do not want to age up (say you’re going for an episode fix!) please stay in T territory for this event. 3. Off limits: Depictions of sexual acts that contain harmful, violent and non-consenting behaviour with non-consenting individuals (or those that aren’t able to consent, for instance because of their age, or state of mind among else!). If it doesn’t fly by law or the ICD in real life, please refrain from depicting it in the context of this event. This means that dubcon and noncon will not be reblogged for the event, so that people can be safely consuming the content without being triggered. All content will be screened in this regard, and I may contact you regarding trigger warnings. This is not at all to censor content, or that this content is in any form less valid (as long as it is properly tagged and not including characters that aren’t of age), but simply to ensure a safe environment for everyone reading. 4. Tag your triggers. Except the aforementioned limitation of harmful content, nothing is off limits. Explore your kinks! But if you write something that might be offensive to your readers, please tag it. This is ALSO a good way for your readers to find exactly what they ARE looking for! On Ao3 this can be done directly on the fic tags, for FF fics and fic links you can do it here on Tumblr via the fic post tags or in ANs. This is in consideration of your readers. 5. You can obviously post art for this event too. All previous rules apply here, as well. Unfortunately, Tumblr is now against tasteful nudity. That doesn’t mean you can’t link to a deviant art or similar account though, should you want to. And, since this year will include an e-zine at the end of it, all art will still be included fully in it. Here too, please tag your triggers. If you still want to post art on Tumblr, choose a T rated image - clip them where needed, or keep them (semi-)clothed, show us a heated kiss, etc! (Obviously we would love ALL the art and the nude body is a beautiful, wonderful thing, but obviously Tumblr doesn’t agree with us anymore!) 6. Have fun! Celebrate sexuality in an open, sex-positive way with us, try to be unapologetic about your likes while you write this, and appreciate the beauty that comes in the form of content with a largely female-gazing creator-base and audience! Smut in fanfiction has been beautifully put as the subjectification of sexuality (as opposed to  objectification). So let’s celebrate this art form together! 7. Reviews: No one is forced to review. It can be uncomfortable to review a fic that contains sexual acts for any number of always valid reasons. Keep in mind, however, that much like a Burlesque dancer on stage, putting out sexual content can also be very intimidating to an author, and nothing is more discouraging than silence when baring yourself to an audience like this. That being said: Both Ao3 and FF have the option to review in anon mode. That means you have the option to remain anonymous while cheering the author on all the same. Just like the Burlesque dancer, your resident smut authors prefer to go on stage to loud cheering - it makes it all less awkward for them, and feels a little more like a big celebration!

If you’re unsure what sex positivity entails and want to read up, I wrote a post about it here.

This event is not supposed to cause harm. This means that I will screen all content before I reblog it here, and include it in the e-zine. So that everyone of age can feel safe reading the fanworks in the event, dubcon and noncon will not be reblogged and included in the e-zine, and accurate tagging and content warning will be watched. This does NOT MEAN that you cannot post this material: your own desire to write it and someone else’s desire to explicitly read this material are valid. I do not entitle myself to censor. It just means it will not be reblogged and shared through the event so that everyone may feel safe to read to the best of my ability. (But, of course, remember that I, too, might be biased, and not discover subtle forms of it, either. We’re all, in the end, a product of our upbringing and society, and I cannot be completely unbiased.)

During the event, I will be posting all Sailor Moon Smutember contributions in this format on my blog if you @ me to the post.

The official hashtag for the event is #smutember2020 hosted by the official smutember blog. Using it helps people find the content who search for it as well as those who wish to block it!

[julie1706]

Julie’s incredibly aesthetic incredibly autumny list of movies that she maybe recommends (part 2)

Oh sweet joy! It turns out that there are many more great, fantastic, cosy movies (and tv-series!) just absolutely perfect for autumn. By popular demand, I return with even MORE autumny recommendations, and this time, there might even be spell-checking. (Looking at you, “Silence of the Lamps”) (I won’t edit that, because that’s just funny.) 

Thank you for reading the previous one, and I hope you’ll enjoy this one too! We have some GREAT ones coming up. I hope! Maybe! But what I believe will really perfect this second list, is the fact, that autumn is close to being at its peak right now, with it being October! Woohoo! 

Pumpkins, Jack’o’lanterns, spooky movies, Halloween, tricks and treats, fog, rain, candles lit in the dark, delicious tea, and scarves, because the chill is back in the air! Amazing! The aesthetics are to die for! 

I’m on a small break from university, and have actually been having some allowed free time, to do autumny stuff. By this I mean I can do autumny stuff with my family and friends, and not feel guilty, because this time I’m not procrastinating. Well, I’m a little behind on some books, but it’s not that bad. You’re allowed free time on breaks! They’re supposed to be mostly free time, anyone knows that. I refuse to be a good student on breaks! 

This free time means that I have actually had time to watch some of these movies and tv-shows myself, and so I can feel a little better about recommending most of them, since I’ve actually seen them. Hehe. Still. I do have other, boring stuff to do, like reading for uni, emptying the dishwasher, cooking, vacuuming, etc., so there will be some of these I’m including, I have not watched, and those will be, again, backed by the power of optimism. Yay! Anyway! You’ve read enough not-halloween recommendationing, and is getting bored - Let’s get to it! (Also, these are still in random order, and I will put warnings at the end, again <3)

Coraline

I remember watching Coraline when it came out in theaters, years ago. I also remember that we had a little closet-thing in the wall, small and closed-up, but still very similar to the one she goes into, in the movie. Needless to say, this was not a favorite for little Julie, who was absolutely scared shit-less by this movie. I remember button-eyes, decaying puppets, and a very scary mom. Now, I have not watched the full movie since, but from bits and pieces through the years, I can wholeheartedly recommend this one. It’s stop-motion, the details are incredible, and wow, this movie is great. If you, like me, are no longer 9 years old, watch it! It’s wonderful, and surprisingly, very feel-good in the family aspect. A great movie!

Official synopsis: 

An adventurous 11-year-old girl finds another world that is a strangely idealized version of her frustrating home, but it has sinister secrets.

//Warning: do not watch this, if you are around nine years old. It will absolutely traumatize you about small closets in old houses. If you are not nine years old, I think you’re good! Just the right amount of spookyness, I believe!

Sense and Sensibility

I watched this with a good friend in february, I think. So I’m not sure why I think this has to go on an autumny list, but I stand by it! Maybe it’s the beige and brown, beautiful clothing, the many shots of nature, and the relationships between these characters, that fits very well with the cold and chilling air, we find ourselves in, here in lovely October. I don’t know. Food for thought. But this is a great movie, and I really think you should try watching it under a blanket, with tea and a good friend. We didn’t know the story before we saw it, and it had us guessing! And there is a part my other friend Sif told me, always makes her dad cry, and I think that should be taken as a compliment to this movie! It’s great! Love, sisters, crisis and period drama (and great clothes), this movie has it all! (also - Emma Thompson!)

Official synopsis: 

Rich Mr. Dashwood dies, leaving his second wife and her three daughters poor by the rules of inheritance. The two eldest daughters are the title opposites.

//Warning: It might make you cry. But I promise, it will be a good experience, in the end. It’s not scary, though.

Over the Garden Wall (animated series)

Well, this one, I’ve been dreading to add to my list. Now, you must not misunderstand, it’s not because I don’t like it. It’s because this series is so great, so weird, so beautifully drawn and made, that I’m afraid I could write a whole blog post dedicated only to Otgw, and still not feel that I have done it justice. It's just so good. It’s like the someone just decided one day, to make a series, that absolutely, perfectly encompasses autumn and halloween, and then did just that. The storyline is good, the art is good, the soundtrack is good. God, the soundtrack. I’ve also made sure to listen to this show’s soundtrack, since we left summer behind, and it’s just so good. There’s a reason tumblr went wild, when this show was first released. But since this is an AUTUMNY list, let me focus on those aspects. Big dark woods, scary noises in the dark, red and golden leaves, fantastical beings - this show has it all, and trust me, it WILL get you in the mood for autumn. I almost started puking leaves and pumpkins when I watched this with my friends, that’s how pumped it got me. This show has a special place in my heart, and if you promise not to tell all the other movies and shows on the list, I’ll admit something: this might be a favorite of mine. Maybe THE autumny favorite. 

Official synopsis:

Two brothers find themselves lost in a mysterious land and try to find their way home.

Warning: May be a little spooky, but I have it on good authority from a friend that is a true scaredy-cat, with nerves of whipped cream, that’s it’s fine. She  could handle it, watches it every year, and she’s fine. Good levels of scary.  

Corpse Bride

Believe it or not, that same scaredy-cat of a friend, I just mentioned, actually instructed a musical, based on this story. Is she a horror-fan or not? I have no idea, but her show was so well-done, that it actually made me like this movie a bit better. I have seen it before, but she convinced me, by telling me the original story behind this movie, that it’s pretty great. And by association, this movie became pretty great, too. It’s been some years since I saw this, but it’s a pretty good halloween movie, I think. Dead people tormenting the living. Classic autumn stuff, I would say. And it’s pretty well-made, I think, stop-motion again! I like the aesthetic of a corpse bride, though you have to admit the actual thing is pretty sad. The premise is haunting and scary, but it’s more morose, melancholic and depressing, I think. Poor Emily. But a good movie! Sorry, maybe that wasn’t a very enticing description, but I promise, it will do you more good than bad, to watch it. And then go google the original story, the movie is based on! 

Official synopsis:

When a shy groom practices his wedding vows in the inadvertent presence of a deceased young woman, she rises from the grave assuming he has married her.

//Oops, nearly forgot a warning! Warning: some people are dead, and therefore rotting a bit. If you’re squeamish, don’t watch. If you love sad love stories, definitely watch!

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

Yeah, I’m not sure why this has to go on my Autumny List either, sorry. It just has to. I know it takes place over an entire year, but in my head, it jut fits very well with the whole magic, supernatural, foggy halloween times we find ourselves in. I mean, look at the cover! Maybe it’s the iconic scene, right before the troll is discovered in the girls’ bathroom (sorry, spoiler), with the floating jack’o’lanterns, and tables almost crashing undet the weight of candy and cakes, that convinced my brain, that this is a halloween movie. I don’t know. Just trust me on this, and watch the first Harry Potter movie. It’s pretty good. 

Official synopsis: 

An orphaned boy enrolls in a school of wizardry, where he learns the truth about himself, his family and the terrible evil that haunts the magical world.

//Warning: Nah, you’re good ;-)

Little Women (Important: 2019 edition)

Alright girls, we’re hopping genres again! This is another period-drama (sort of), about sisters, and wow, I cried to this. I bawled, I sobbed, I choked on snot, and was a little inconsolable, when I watched it with friends, at the cinema. One of the best experiences this year, and one of the greatest movies I have watched in a long time. I love everything about this movie: the family-bonds, the clothing, the many nature-shots, the developments of characters, (almost) all the characters, and just, wow. No good way to end that sentence, because I want to just keep describing all the good parts of this movie, because it's everything. It’s amazing, and yes, i’m exaggerating, but I can’t help it. I forgot to eat my popcorn or drink my water, when we watched this, that’s how mesmerized I was by this movie. I love Jo, I think I can empathize a lot with her, and if I could talk to her, if she was real, I would thank her for telling her story. This movie is great, you should watch it, because it makes you feel so warm inside. 

Official synopsis:

Jo March reflects back and forth on her life, telling the beloved story of the March sisters - four young women, each determined to live life on her own terms.

//Warning: Might make you break down crying. But in a good way. Very cathartic, actually.

Alien

I watched this for the first time last year, when I decided I was going to watch the classic older horror movies, and not freak the fuck out. I mostly succeed. And this movie was a joy to watch. That’s maybe weird to say about an alien horror movie, but wow I just love Sigourney Weaver, and the aesthetics of this movie. The story is thrilling, and I really did not like most of the characters, I thought they were hysteric and annoying, but I still rooted for them. It’s a different kind of horror movie, that’s for sure! But when I watched it, I totally understood why it has become such a classic.

Official synopsis: 

After a space merchant vessel receives an unknown transmission as a distress call, one of the crew is attacked by a mysterious life form and they soon realize that its life cycle has merely begun.

//Warning: Uh, yeah, Sif, this is not one for you. It’s gross and scary. Malin, I think you’ll like this one! Go ahead! Maybe we should see it together?

Edward Scissorhands

Haven’t seen this one! I want to, though. I think I’ve seen one scene, where this man accidentally pokes a water-bed, and younger me felt that was a very tragic thing, on more levels. Johnny Depp yet again, so it has to be good, right? I know this poor guy, Edward, has it rough, and was given some really not that practical hands. Man, he looks sad, huh? So maybe more sad than scary, yet again. Dont know! But I really do want to watch it. Winona Ryder is in this, too, so really, it’s a no-brainer!

Official synopsis:

An artificial man, who was incompletely constructed and has scissors for hands, leads a solitary life. Then one day, a suburban lady meets him and introduces him to her world.

//Warning: I don’t know? Maybe not that spooky? I think it’s more sad, to be honest.

Pride + Prejudice + Zombies

I mean, why the hell not - right? I love Jane Austen. I love Pride and Prejudice. And I really like halloween, so OF COURSE, I’m including this one. I’ve seen it, too. My friend Malin and I watched it a couple of years ago, and yeah, it’s good. It’s not high cinema, no, but I don’t need that. It was a fun, weird twist, and sometimes, that’s all you need. There is a very interesting scene with a corset, that was NOT in the book, and I think it really added something to this story. And Lily James. Whew. Great movie. Great for autumn. I will be watching this one again.

Official synopsis:

Five sisters in 19th century England must cope with the pressures to marry while protecting themselves from a growing population of zombies.

//Warning: I can’t really remember, but I think there’s some pretty gross scenes with zombies. Rotting flesh is NOT pretty. But just close your eyes for that, and  you’ll be good!

The Haunting of Hill House

I first watched this series when i came out some time ago. I never finished it, I don’t think my heart was in it, but by no fault of the show. Now, that the same creator has made another show, which my mom and I are hooked by, and almost through, I think I’ll be returning to this one - it deserves another chance! A great old house, ghosts, family secrets and INCREDIBLE aesthetics, mean there must be something here! Also, I think it’s based on a novel by Shirley Jackson, and it’s supposed to a classic horror novel, and Stephen King tweeted that he liked it, so yeah, it’s promising! The series I’m watching with my mom is spooky, but tumblr says the Haunting of Hill House is supposed to be much more spooky, terrifying, even, and I really want to find out if that’s true!

Official synopsis:

Flashing between past and present, a fractured family confronts haunting memories of their old home and the terrifying events that drove them from it.

//Warning: Very Scary! Faint of heart - Beware! Just enjoy this beautiful gif of Nell dancing by herself, and move on <3

Psycho

Another old classic! Woo! Have not watched, but really, I feel like that’s almost a crime by now. I HAVE to watch it. Soon, I’m planning to. Sadly, It’s old, and I grew up with the internet, so I’ve been spoiled oh so dreadfully, and knows all the bloody details and plottwists of this oldie but goldie. But I still want to watch it! It must be a classic for a reason - right? Also, I’ve never seen the full version of the famous shower scene, and that’s just embarrassing. Shame on me.

Official synopsis:

A Phoenix secretary embezzles $40,000 from her employer's client, goes on the run, and checks into a remote motel run by a young man under the domination of his mother.

//Warning: It’s a horror classic! It’s gotta be scary. Then again, it DID come out in 1960. Be careful about this one! Sorry, I have no idea, have never watched it.

Hannibal (the TV series)

It’s gross, it’s scary, it’s aesthetic, there is a danish elegant man eating people in snowy Baltimore, and you really shouldn’t pay him to be your psychiatrist. Hannibal! I first watched this as a young, edgy teenager, and all the blood and gore didn't get to me at all - I just enjoyed the cat-and-mouse game between Will Graham, our main character, very mentally unstable, and a dog-lover, and Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a renowned psychiatrist, elegant, high-society - and also, he talks like a mixture of the bible and an old greek sonet. What I'm trying to get at is that this show is weird. Good weird. But also, now no longer an edgy teenager myself, it’s really gross. A man’s leg is cut off and served to himself. That’s gross. I didn’t like that, and I definitely covered my eyes. Other than that, it’s a very vivid show, with great focus on presentation and symbolism. I would love for someone to analyse each episode, because there's so much attention to detail. It’s honestly impressive. And after having watched many, many shows about crime and murders, I must say, this show has THE most buckwild, creative, never seen before ways of killing people. How the hell do you come up with a murderer using people’s different skin colors to make a mural? I don’t know. It’s disgusting, but man is it different. I’m halfway through season two, and there is a lot to unpack! Also, have to mention, very homoerotic - that’s a plus. Don’t think I could’ve stomached all the blood, otherwise. I hate blood, and wow is there blood in this show.

Official synopsis:

Explores the early relationship between renowned psychiatrist, Hannibal Lecter, and his patient, a young FBI criminal profiler, who is haunted by his ability to empathize with serial killers.

//Warning: Yeah. You read how many times I wrote ‘gross’. Just trust me on this one, it’s gross. It’s good, but maybe don’t watch it. You don’t need to introduce your brain to this.

The Haunting of Bly Manor

Ooh boy. Ooooh boy. This series is very good. VERY good. I’m watching it with my mom right now, I think we’re at episode 7, and wow are we hooked. It’s spooky, it’s haunting, it’s thrilling, it’s mysterious, and wow is it scary. We both agreed to go together, the first night we watched this, and our dog had to be taken out on his night-walk. She didn’t want to go alone, and i didn’t want to stay back at the house, alone. So we went together, and I was so freaked out that I nearly peed my pants, when some kids screamed in our neighborhood. It’s so very much what I want a ghost-story to be, but it’s also a lot more, and much greater for it. I love all the characters, they’re all so well-rounded, and most of them are good. The big manor is spooky, and the woods surrounding it are foggy and dark, and yes, this is really a great series for autumn and halloween. It’s the second series made by Mike Flanagan. There are some similarities between the two shows, and surprisingly, some of the same actors! I think that’s very interesting, and it also made me very confused, as I watched the first episodes of the Haunting of Bly Manor, and could not, for the life of me, figure out where the hell I had seen these people before. It made it even more eerie in a way, and I appreciate that. I love this show, and I think I’ll be very sad when we’re through with it. I guess the natural thing to do, will be to follow up with Flanagan’s previous horror series, The Haunting of Hill House! Also, there’s lesbians in this one. Very nice. I appreciate that. Also, surprisingly - I love the children! They’re so cool and brave, and it would be very nice if especially Flora could go with me, the next time I’m going to a haunted house. Such a badass.

Official synopsis:

After an au pair’s tragic death, Henry hires a young American nanny to care for his orphaned niece and nephew who reside at Bly Manor with the chef Owen, groundskeeper Jamie and housekeeper, Mrs. Grose.

Warning: It’s spooky. It’s the perfect halloween series, so of course it’s very spooky! This gif I chose is spooky, and I promise the show itself is worse. But if you can handle dead people creepily staring in the background, and maybe has someone to watch it with, I think you’ll be fine!

Alright! We made it! Another spooky, aesthetic, autumny list, for us to enjoy this crispy season! Woohoo! Also, I’m sorry if there’s any spelling mistakes or whatelse, I hope you enjoyed reading anyway! Thank you! Now go drink some tea and relax, you’ve earned it. I recently tried chili-tea, and damn, that’s another recommendation from me! It was amazing!

Hope you have a great Halloween, it’s close now. Watch out for the cold weather, remember to bundle up, and don’t let the impending darkness get you down. Light some candles! And also, watch some of these spooky tv-series and movies with your family and friends! And have a great fall! <3

Love, Julie

[ask-the-crimson-king]

Warriors of the 17th Host of the Word Bearers

[Hello. Been a bit since I've posted anything art-related on here.

Please welcome half of the main cast of my Black Crusade game: The Word Bearers of the 17th Host! (The other half are the players themselves)

Some of you may recognize the names from a prior blog of mine that has kind of fell to the wayside. (Shill here @fides-regnat-aeterna because I plan to revive it soon) Yes. These are the same characters. Now with faces!

For those unacquainted, allow me to introduce them for you under the cut for the convenience of others:

Let's begin with the head of the Host:

Ans'ar has been the Apostle of the Host for millennia, being one of the few Word Bearers who even crossed the deserts with Lorgar prior to his ascension as an Astartes. He is known to be benevolent and lax with his warriors, and he is known to have stirring and persuasive sermons. Usually he will use them in order to bring more Imperials to the Truth, but sometimes he will use them on fellow Legionnaires. He has even been able to recruit warriors from other Legions as of late, and he personally turned his Coryphaus to the light of the Truth. With the death of his First Acolyte, he has since been under the watch of the 34th as they embark on their latest crusade.

Super happy with how he turned out, especially the shading of the skin. I'm trying to get better with it, and this whole piece has been great practice. Though I do wish I could make his expression a bit softer. Something to work on in future!

Gibil once belonged to the Salamanders, but was able to be converted by Ans'ar after a very shaky engagement with the XVIIth centuries ago. Gibil personally was able to kill one of his predecessors, and when he was taken prisoner, Ans'ar made sure he was treated well despite circumstances. After a few conversations, he was in, and thanks to his prowess in battle and inside knowledge of more modern Imperial tactics, he was later promoted to the rank of Coryphaus. This did make his new brothers wary and some did voice concerns about one not of the Legion attaining a rank so coveted, but Ans'ar quelled such voices after letting Gibil prove himself.

An NPC that's yet to really shine, but hopefully will be able to in coming sessions. Gibil was fun to try to draw, and I think I did decently well. I was originally going to make the little mohawk green, but decided against it since he has other ways of proclaiming his first heritage. Such as the drakescale draped over his armor.

A young, wary warrior of the 17th, Lacertes has recently begun undertaking tutelage by Merrick and Captain An-Ishkur. Through them, he is learning all he needs to become a true son of Lorgar, and a Bearer of the Word. Most recently, he has tried his hand at sermonizing with... limited success. But there is the chance for improvement. In time, anyway.

Young lad! Tiny boy that Merrick, the party Word Bearer, has since kind of adopted. He was fun to draw. Yes I am aware of the eyes, I was finishing this around like 3am and I was tired. Shusheth.

An-Ishkur is the Captain of one of the many coteries of the 17th Host, though most of the time he will be given charge of the younger warriors as he has been deemed a bit too temperamental to be with the veterans. This has changed recently, as he has been granted a chance to change that. However, he does have to look over a gaggle of misfit warriors from the other Legions to do so. Fortunately Merrick is there, so all he has to do is keep Hersyaf in line. The two had been together since their recruitment to the Legion shortly after Monarchia, for the Pilgrimage. Although they do bicker and fight, An-Ishkur still stands by him, remembering the warrior that was, and to keep him away from trouble.

These two should've been put in the picture together honestly. But An-Ishkur is fun! He was the first NPC besides Hersyaf that the party met. His hair was really fun to draw, same with his expression. Really proud of how this turned out.

Hersyaf is an oddity. Not only did something go wrong during the binding ritual that led to his ascension into the Vakrah Jal, but he has a crabby captain always yelling at him for doing what he does best. Blind and fueled by the daemon within, Hersyaf no longer can revert to his mortal form and very little remains of the soul of the warrior the daemon inhabited. He has also sometimes trailed the Master of Possession, as he seems to be treated as an object of study from time to time.

The wolf man himself. Not much has been uncovered about him yet. I will keep most a secret, for now. Also super cool to create. I loved making his teeth. I tried to make his fur all grimy with blood, but it kinda acts more as a lighting effect. Oh, well. Still looks cool.

LAST BUT NOT LEAST...

The Master of Possession of the 17th Host is another one of its many myriad oddities. Firstly, he is originally a sorcerer of the Thousand Sons. Secondly, he simply joined because of his interest in daemonology, and he seemed to be fairly amicable with Ans'ar from a shared history. Thirdly, he seems to be partially or fully responsible for what has happened to Hersyaf as of late. His practices are suspect, but he can create many different creations quite quickly and cleanly, so he's able to get the true higher-ups of the Legion off his back. Though his time may have run out in terms of the 34th, however...

A BASTARD through and through, and disliked by many. He is Magnus' arrogance made manifest. So I tried to show it in the face. for the eyes it was a tossup between blue, green, or potentially purple. Went with blue to mix things up. God this smug bastard has a punchable face. He will get punched next session by the resident Thousand Son in the party for what he did to Hersyaf. It will be quite amusing.

SO THAT IS THEM! Yes, there was a First Acolyte, and yes, he died. He was plotting against the Dark Apostle and the Legion, and was summarily executed. Said execution prompted questioning by the Dark Council, and now the 34th have been sent to keep an eye on the Host. The party is helping to throw them off and to help stave them off entirely.

But first they have to go through Marduk. Hurray.

This piece was the first true passion piece I have made in a while. Hope y'all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed making it.]

[solesurvivorpaigeargot]

I absolutely LOVE Sketchy Saturdays and I always look forward to them!! As for my question(s)? What made you decide to start doing it(I'm glad you do but I was just curious!)?

Hoooo boi the Sketchy Saturday Origin Story: I suppose there's two versions.

The short version reads " Moving stress, deployment depression, and isolation VS. my utter determination to DO SOMETHING whilst trapped in my home " -- Sketchy Saturday was the result of that title fight, so I guess the fandom won in the end? XD

The long version, however... Well, buckle up, cause this is gonna be a ride.

It may surprise y'all to know that two years I was eyeballs-deep in the South Park fandom. The blog still exists; my mainblog, JustCallMeButtlord, built to interact with the audience of my fanfictions-- the New Kid Stories, called NKS for short [gonna be porting those to Ao3 soon, just gotta figure out what robo-reader I'm gonna use to make a quick n dirty podfic out of the series as well as help me hunt down typos my eyes galze over]. The first 'season' of stories had ended, 8 completed fics, and I was puttering about with a bonus holiday story that was several months out of season. Not that I CARED because I was on GUAM where seasons don't exist and my time blindness gets even worse becasue without seasons changing it feels like time never progrsses even after being on the island for three cocksucking years.

I don't hate Guam, I am just not built for constant heat. I am a snow creature; I like below-freezing temperatures so I can layer up in fuzzy, fluffy things and drink hot drinks and cuddle loved ones and/or furry animals. It's a lovely island, I adored my first week there... I just wasn't made to live there.

HIlariously, NKS started out of the stress of moving to Guam. Two years and 8 fics later, the place we were renting was no longer within our price range and my hubby and I were forced to move onto base. Under the leader whom I refuse to name, military pay was given a precentage raise... but it was ripped out of bonuses and OCONUS pay. OCONUS is what a military member is paid when they're stationed Outisde the CONtinental United States. This usually means overseas bases like Japan, but it also means Hawaii, aaaaaand... GUAM. So that percentage pay increase for the military at large meant belt-tightening for every service member abroad, and we were forced to move onto base.

In case y'all haven't noticed by now, I'm a raging socialist with some issued with authority. I DO NOT LIKE EXISTING ON BASE. I do not like existing in a place where the national anthem plays twice a day, every day, at 6 AM and then again whenever the hell sundown is that day. And there's an unspoken rule no one tells you that when it plays you're supposed to stop what you're doing, face the nearest set of speakers playing the song, and stare in that direction with your hand over your heart until its over. That, if you're driving, you have to put on your emergency flashers and pull over. No one tells you this. NO ONE TELLS YOU THIS.

And then, before we had secured a place on base but we had set a move out date for the rental house, the Pandemic happened. While we were between homes. The base is talking full lockdown, Guam authorities want to shut down the island but businesses are terrified of not getting the tourist season business, we don't even know if we'll be allowed to move on to base.

Surprise, I stopped writing for a while... but I picked Fallout 4 back up again. I had been forced into the series years earlier by a toxic relationship, but the game itself hadn't been bad-- just the way I'd been forced to play it by someone who was firmly not in my life anymore. When confronted with character creation, I wasn't sure whom I wanted to make... but decided to go back to an old character. A VERY old character, whom I hadn't thought of since I'd finished ME3 at least 4 years prior, and a character I first conceived of when I was 14-ish... which is now about 15 years ago.

Paige.

I've talked before about how well Paige's story maps onto Fo4, but this was before I knew that. I knew the opening, her losing her kid, and that fit with her-- but something clicked while I was playing and the part of my brain that likes to create started wandering off. Soon enough I've got a couple chapters of a ficlet that I'm TOTALLY just writing as a personal one-shot to de-stress, no way I'm publishing this, I don't wanna get distracted from NKS, I got a whole 'nother season to write! Who cares if no one is reading it anymore because South Park Fandom doesn't like continuous plots.... right?

I was burnt out as hell, the move was looming, the Pandemic was getting worse and everything was getting scarier.

Then the news came through that hubby would be deploying again.

He wasn't supposed to, but the Navy decided the safest place for their sailors was the middle of the ocean, so if you WERENT in quarantine you were going on the boat and you were living there. Didn't matter if your spouse would be alone, unpacking a whole home by themselves.

I had a friend on base. We hung out. I met with my DND group on weekends; we all lived on base now, so we could meet up in like five minutes... and then restrictions tightened. You could be fined up to 5 grand for gathering in groups greater than 5, even outdoors, and detained if suspected of going to a home that wasn't yours. I still met 2 of my friends once a week for walks; get outside, be active, talk to other humans, but besides that? I was locked up alone in a new house in a place that I did NOT like existing in.... with a fresh new hyperfixation developing.

I think it was about a week into the new house that I made the new blog. At first I tried to run it side by side with the South Park stuff, but it wasn't long before all my attention was here... aaaand it also wasn't long before I was confronted with a lot of my own despair; of lockdown, of isolation, of watching a broken system crumble and not being able to DO anything about it, and I started to kinda lose my shit. I fuss-- I can't leave things alone, and I couldn't leave this feeling alone; of being fully and entirely helpless and hopeless.

And then I sketched a thing for a friend, and it made them happy. They were having a rough time, too, and I put something together because I couldn't think of anything else. And it helped. It lifted them up, and it lifted me up, too. Someone else had recently reblogged one of those pallet challenges that floats around Tumblr, and I decided FUCK IT LET'S DO THIS THING AND CALL IT SKETCHY SATURDAY!

Little secret, the very first Sketchy Saturday request? Was me. I was so scared no one would noticed the event, I sent myself the very first request, back when the event still took anons. Soon as that first picture was up:

BANG, suddenly four more; some people off anon. I met people that day, talked to them after the very first Sketchy weekend was over, chatted about the games and characters and art and writing and just... felt human for the first time in a really long while.

I figured I'd hold on to Sketchy Saturday until the deployment was over-- once hubby was back, I'd decide whether I was keeping it or not... but he came back, and I was still super into it, and he was supportive, sooooo I kept going! And then we did Sketchy Secret Santa, and people loved it, and my volunteers are excited about being Sketchy Elves and Secret Helpers and just OH MY GOD I DID A THING GUYS. I DID A THING-- that was just me all December and January long lmafo.

AND JANUARY! Because AH HECK, WE MOVING AGAIN! Because hubby finally got orders, and OH MY GOD we're going back to WA... but it's still a move half-way around the globe, and I was SURE I'd have to shut down the event for a month while we got our shit in order and NOPE, because here come the volunteers from Sketchy Secret Santa, and they wanna fill in all month long! Like... I didn't even ask for that shit, guys. They offered it so the event wouldn't have to take a gap.

Jesus I'm getting teary just remembering it.

So yeah. Sketchy Saturday is here because I got really lonely and stressed out while Fallout 4 provided me with some... catharsis for my situation, and then a pandemic happened.

And then y'all happened, and I'm still here. :D

[besybil]

A LESSON ON SERVITORS

chaoscommentary

Introduction

In the Chaos Magick ladder which I briefly described in a previous article we have Servitors as the next evolution of our high magick.

Just to remind you we go from:

Sigils -> Servitors -> Egregores -> God forms.

Servitors are much more difficult to put into application than sigils. They require more time and energy as well.

The good news (for some) is that Servitors can still be created in private.

Egregores and Godforms are almost impossible to create without some sort of extra participation or fellowship with other people (however I have some clever methods to use which will be described when I get to those subjects.) Regardless, before I jump into how to create a servitor, I need to clearly define WHAT a servitor IS.

What is a Servitor?

As servitor is a thought form of your own creation. One of the most popular occurrences (back in the day) was the creation of imaginary friends by children.

The power and purpose of your servitor will be entirely dependent on you and your desire to develop it. For young children, to have a non judgmental companion to walk beside them as they learn to socially cope with other people is a common mission for some servitors. Another way to think of Servitors is as “Familiars.”

Now this comes with a bit of a warning, without proper attention your servitor may gain independence and a life of its own (Thus evolving into an Egregore.) I am all about responsibility and making your magick do exactly what it was intended to do, so I will give you some tips on how to keep a leash on your familiar.

Why would I want a Servitor?

Like I said in a previous article, sigils are typically where the buck stops for most Chaotes. They are powerful, work as intended and are very accurate. You could technically stop right there and have everything you will ever need for working with magick. However, magick is more of a walk for some and an exploration of endless possibilities for others. Servitor creation is the next step into some deep waters and a step out into the wild frontier of Magick. This is where the pedal hits the metal; this is where the wild adventure begins. For many adult occultists, this is also a return to childhood which can be a very scary place for some.

That being said; familiars and their purpose are left to your imagination. A companion (friend), a bodyguard, and yes even lovers are all applications for Servitor work. However let me come with a warning, the more you feed a servitor the stronger and more independent it can become. As such I advise highly against creating servitors for sexual gratification. You may end up giving birth to a hag or a succubus (a result of uncontrolled mutation), which in the end will make your life miserable. It would be better to create a wing(wo)man to help bolster your confidence to gain a physical mate. My point ultimately is, just like sigils, there is no limit on what a servitor can do, look like or become. The only limit is your imagination. If a sigils is a magickal computer program, Servitors are magickal robots, just shy of becoming Magickal AI.

Servitors are astral constructs.  Servitors can cause physical change.

Practical use for servitors include:

An assistant in solo magickal work.

A protector for your house.

An assistant for keeping your workspace clean.

To name just a few.

Okay I get it! How do I MAKE one?

First rule: Temper your enthusiasm with caution. Respect the ritual you are about to perform.

Second Rule: We do not create accidents; make sure you truly want to create a servitor. These are not toys, they are very real beings created from your energies, they are in short, your children. Be a responsible parent.

Third Rule: Always, always, always, set up rules and restrictions to keep your servitors exactly that. Without rules, a servitor has the potential to become an Egregore and no longer under your control.

Optional but highly recommended: When I create servitors I get into the habit of breaking down ones I no longer use and incorporate them into the newer, upgraded models. I had a bad experience with leaving “junk servitors” unattended only to have them haunting my dreams and bumping into me in the middle of the night. If you are down with a servitor, release the energy and let it be free. This act prevents the buildup of malice and negative energies from neglected thought forms. Keep your workspace clean, in the astral and in the physical.

Now that we have that established let me begin.

As always with Chaos Magick, there is no right or wrong way to do this. What I offer you is what has worked for me. Tweak it for your purposes. (For me) It always helps to have a template to start with, but YOUR magickal walk is exactly that, yours not mine; you are the final Judge on what you are willing and able to commit to such a practice.

Step 1: State the purpose of your Servitor

Create a sigil or series of sigils which will define the purpose of your servitor. “Protect my home,” “Keep my house clean,” so on and so forth. Make as many sigils as you need. This is the easy part, feel free to find my article on sigil making in this blog.

Step 2: Create a body for your Servitor

You have two options here.

Option A:

You can bind them to a fetish like is a doll, figurine or even a drawing of your own design. I am a naturally arts and crafts kind of person so this is my preferred method.

Option B:

However if for whatever reason I don’t not have the time or money to create a physical representation of my servitor, I use meditation and create the servitor in my mind and in astral space.

Regardless, the process requires the same amount of energy, effort and IMAGINATION. You must visualize the servitor. How tall is it? Does it have limbs? Can it speak? It can take hours to create a body for your  servitor, but you need to define as many of its functions and characteristics as possible. Its body needs to be a vivid as possible. Some of my servitors have looked like Lovecraftian horrors, while one of my longtime companions is a very cute four foot tall blonde elf girl who speaks in wind chimes.

Step 3: Bind your sigils in the body of the servitor, and put in its safety protocols.

Binding your sigils can be as simple as drawing them inside your picture, carving them into your doll, or imagining the sigils being put in place of where its “heart” or “battery” may be. The point is to make sure your sigils are part of your servitor. Once this occurs, and you are convinced the two have become one, a safety should be put into place. As I said before, without a leash or restrain, your servitor has cart-blanche to run amok and out of your control. You have again, to options here: A command word or a counter sigil. The command word can be: “Stop!” “Sit!” “Go away!” It is best to keep it simple; although I know a few people who used poetry for particularly devious machines to make sure not everyone can shut them down. That is the key to command words however, anyone can use them. A servitor must be compelled once a person speaks a word or command phrase to abide by its programming.

Safety Method A: Command Words

Creating a command word is as simple as touching your servitor (if you used a fetish, this is easier) and speaking plainly to them “When I say <x> you will do <y>” (X and Y are your phrase and its action.) Repeat this as many times as you need to remember or until you feel you servitor is ready to comply. You can put as many command words on your servitor as you want, just be careful not to use the same word to do multiple things, or that they words are counterproductive to its mission. You could confuse the crap out of it.

Safety Method B: Counter Sigils

The second method, counter sigils, are kind of a fire and forget method. It lets a servitor know where it  is or isn’t allowed to be. This requires you to name your servitor and upon naming it, creating a sigil of its name. You must decide if this sigil is a ward or a summoning upon its creation. You do not need to commit much thought to this nor does it change the method of how the sigil is created, the intent is good enough. “This sigil means you are welcome to work in this place,” or “This sigil prevents you from going into this place,” Is good enough of a declaration for this method to work. I have seen people bind servitors in boxes with this method and let them out when needed, while others have put the symbols on doors and the like to let servitors know where they should go.

Step 4: BRING YOUR CREATION TO LIFE!!!!!

The ritual can be as elaborate or mundane as you want. However I will tell you, the more elaborate the more powerful your servitor will be in the long run. I have used a simple hand flick gesture (like turning on a light) to activate some, they only lasted a few days before the broke down. My longtime companion servitor had entire weeks of music and food dedicated to her and if she didn’t have any safety protocols in place, probably would have become an Egregore by now. Still, perform a ritual that lets the servitor know it is born. Throw it a birthday party, show it around the house, get silly, get childish. There is no right or wrong way to invite this new entity into your home, just know, the more gnosis you feed it, the better.

Step 4:

Regular maintenance of your servitor is a must. Your servitor must be in your mind from time to time. If you forget about it, it loses energy and dies. While, just thinking about it is okay, offerings or rewards are much more potent. For my lesser servitors I give them a drop of life force when they have done well. For my companion, I have treated her to donuts and milk. The key is to understand the relationship between you and your servitor. Unless you set them free, they cannot live without you. If you forget them, they will die. Woe to the chaote who creates a servitor with no restrictions and then neglects them, you may create a vengeful spirit to infest your house. So reward you servitor when they have done their duties and let them know you still care about them.

Dismantling your Servitors:

I include this part because all good occultists know the value of banishment. Some servitors outlive their usefulness and thus need to be released back into the cosmos. This is not a cruel thing to do, as a matter of fact; actively releasing your unused servitors is very humane. It is cruel to leave a bound servitor unattended to die an agonizing death of forgetfulness and neglect.

Dismantling is simple. Take the abject or thought of you servitor and tell it “You are free” or “I set you free” Imagine all of the bindings and words leaving and falling apart into harmless light. If you have a fetish, set it ablaze or destroy it in some gentle way. Make sure that the object can no longer physically house the servitor. IT is a very good practice to tell it, that it has performed well and it is time for it to move on. If the servitor doesn’t seem to want to leave then you may have to perform this a few time. My companion didn’t want to leave me when I tried to banish her the first three times, she was so fiercely loyal that I gave her a second birthday and still keep her to this day.

That is servitor making in a nutshell.

I am sure many of you have questions or will want me to elaborate. So feel free to ask questions if you need help. This is a basic outline, I am vague for a reason to encourage you to go out there and find what works for you. Just be safe and Chaos Magick responsibly.

~M.A. Hargrove © 2014

[jaskierswolf]

The Viscount and The Witcher pt.1/4

(Note: Reposted from my old blog. The rest can be found on my Ao3 or on my pinned masterlist)

Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove was bored. He’d been bored for some time now. In his youth he’d dreamed of becoming a travelling bard. He’d even focused his time in Oxenfurt on the liberal arts and had graduated quite successfully from the academy, but before he’d even begun his journey to becoming renowned troubadour, he’d been called back to his family home. The news of his father’s death had been an unfortunate one and he’d been forced to step up and become head of his vast estate.

There had been a moment, in the dead of night, witching hour, when he’d very nearly picked up his lute and fled.

He hadn’t.

He’d turned over and gone back to sleep. He did have a rather luxurious bed and he’d not been short of company to fill it with. He often wondered what would have become of him if he had run away that night, at barely eighteen. He often dreamed of the songs he could have written, the people he could have met, the adventures he could have had.

A deep part of him sorely regretted the path not taken.

Instead he drowned his sorrows in the most delicious wine from Toussaint and lured beautiful people to his bedchamber. He was determined to enjoy the few pleasures left to him in gluttonous amounts.

He gazed out of the window of his study into the gardens. They were stunning at this time of year. They weren’t the most well kept gardens, but he liked that. He enjoyed the wild long grass and the litany of yellow, white and purple weeds that sprung up in the summer. The sounds of bees filled the air, a constant low buzzing that he found both soothing and wildly distracting. He enjoyed a long stroll in the gardens when he wasn’t buried under paperwork. Quite frankly he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the different silk sheets used in the guest bedrooms or whether the local houses were paying their taxes in time. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all of that diplomatic nonsense just disappeared?

Poverty could become a thing of the past. He’d given away vast amounts of his fortune whenever he could convince his lawyers to let the assets go but his estate only thrived more as the farmers, workers and merchants were able to work more efficiently and invested more funding into their livelihoods.

He couldn’t begrudge them that but he felt guilty for owning so much when they lived on so little so he kept feeding his money back into the surrounding villages and they kept growing and expanding their homes and businesses.

None of the surrounding lords or barons could understand how he did it.

He couldn’t exactly explain it himself.

He had been hoping to run his estate into the ground so he could run off and have the heroic adventures that he’d always dreamed of. Perhaps he would even run into one of those witchers. He was fascinated by witchers. He always had been, ever since he was a boy and he’d heard the rumours of the Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia. The rumours were that the man had slaughtered an entire village with his bare hands in some kind of blood-fuelled frenzy.

Julian didn’t believe that for a second.

He’d snuck down to the library and buried himself under books, scrolls and parchments, anything in his father’s great library with even the whiff of a witcher. He’d read bestiaries and fairytales, utterly bewitched by the tales of fae, vampires and werewolves. He devoured everything he could by candlelight. It was what had driven him to his chosen career as a bard. He wanted to experience those stories himself, he needed to live it. His thirst for knowledge and innate curiosity had seen him through Oxenfurt with ease. He’d been able to spend far too long in taverns and brothels whilst his peers studied books and manuscripts that he’d read within the first months of attending the famous school. The library had been enviable and he’d been unable to stay away for months.

He sighed dramatically. It had all been a fucking waste of time. He closed the leather-bound book he’d been scrawling in, even after all these years he couldn’t help the flashes of creative inspiration that hit him. It was like a vampire’s thirst, burning in his throat and heart. He had to write, he had to play and sing and dance. He ran his fingers along the underside of his writing desk until he heard a faint click and a drawer popped open. He tucked the book neatly into the draw beneath the pressed dandelion.

Dandelion.

It was to be his stage name had he followed through with his plans.

He’d kept the pressed yellow flower as a reminder. He picked it up and twirled it between his fingers before sighing loudly.

“Master Dandelion, renowned troubadour and poet.” He pouted before gently returning the flower to its cage and closing the drawer shut, it vanished into the wooden desk without a trace. “I supposed it is quite poetic,” He whined. “I am like the flower trapped in my own cage from which I cannot escape. The flower which holds my name and soul shares my fate.”

He groaned and bumped his head against the desk. The long feather in his hat flopped down, tickling his nose. He promptly sneezed.

“Ah. To the gods! Even my own hat hates me.” He moaned.

Thankfully he was pulled from his self-pity by a knock at the door. He jumped to his feet and straightened his hat, tucking the treacherous heron feather back into place.

“Come in!” He trilled.

Annabelle, a pretty redhead and one of his longest serving maids entered the room. “ Lord Lettenhove.” Annabelle curtsied.

Julian rolled his eyes and pulled the girl to her feet. “Annabelle, dearest, how many times must I ask you to call me Julian and none of this grovelling nonsense. Tell me, how are your family? Your mother was sick, is she feeling any better? I trust she received the medicine I sent.”

Annabelle blushed and smiled up at him. “Yes Lord Let - Lord Julian. Thank you very much. You are too kind to us.”

“My darling, I simply have nothing better to do with my fortune than ensure my staff are well looked after. How’s the little one, Eleanor if I remember correctly?”

“Yes, Lord Julian. She’s growing up fast. My sister told me she started to crawl yesterday.” Annabelle answered meekly.

Julian gasped and put his hand to his chest. “And you missed it! Oh my dear, my sincerest apologies.”

Annabelle shook her head. “I love my job, Lord Julian. There is no reason to apologise. You’ve already done far too much for my family.”

It was Julian’s time to blush. He hated how much his staff revered him, didn’t they realise his motivations were purely selfish? He just wanted to get out of this house! He wanted to leave them. They just didn’t see any of that but he didn’t let his frustration show. “Now now, they’ll be time to sing my praises later, my dear, what was it that you needed? We are not due another order from the farms yet are we?”

The girl laughed quietly. “No, nothing like that. Forgive me, Lord Julian, I don’t mean to make assumptions.”

She shuffled awkwardly on her feet. “Well go on! Don’t keep me in suspense like this.” He pouted with a hand on his hips.

“There’s a rumour going round, Lord Julian.” She blushed. “About a witcher in one of the outer villages. They were having problems on the full moon. Mysterious and gruesome murders.”

Julian wanted to jump for joy.

A real witcher.

On his land.

“Oh my!” He clapped his hands together. “We must send for him at once!” He ran to his desk and pulled out a sheet of parchment. “Now tell me Annabelle what monsters are more enticing to a monster hunter, vampires or werewolves?” He scoffed before she could answer. “No no, that’s too obvious, and unbearably dull. Nekkers? Oooh, what about a draconid? A forktail perhaps?”

Annabelle kept opening and closing her mouth but there was no interrupting Julian when he got like this. He barely even noticed he still had company.

“Or a wraith!” He laughed gaily. “Oh yes that will do nicely! A wraith haunting the attic! Then we may get to see the witcher in action, oh the tales I could write! Maybe I could publish them under a pseudonym, Master Dandelion may yet still live!”

His hands flew over the paper as he scrawled as quickly and elegantly as he could. Once he was finished he read it over quickly, cornflower blue eyes scanning over the words quick as lightning.

     My dear witcher,    

     On behalf of Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove, I would like to thank you for offering your services to assist our villagers with their furry little problem. I write this letter before the news of your success has reached me but I have no doubt that you will succeed in your quest! You must tell me whether you have slain the beast or cured it of the lycanthropy. I await the tale of your heroic adventure with great anticipation.    

     The Lord Lettenhove requests your presence at his estate. You see, my dearest witcher, we have a little pest problem of our own. A wraith haunts the house and our poor chambermaids are quite at their wits end with fright.    

     I beseech you. Don’t delay.    

     Yours, Dandelion.    

He chuckled at the name. He was going to have a lot of fun with this witcher, whoever it maybe, and he didn’t need the witcher knowing exactly who he was just yet. He sealed the letter swiftly and all but shoved poor Annabelle from the room so that she could deliver it hastily.

He followed after her and practically ran down the corridor and up the stairs to the master bedroom. He flung open his wardrobe as he hummed a new melody under his breath. He needed to choose an outfit. Something that was less Viscount and more genius bard.

He stripped off his golden doublet and trousers in exchange for his favourite plum set. It had intricate embroidery around the collar that he just adored. He paired the doublet with a white undershirt with lace around the cuffs and collar.

He took off his hat and twirled a strand of his soft golden blond hair in between his fingers. He’d been growing it out lately, he was really just so bored, and he’d been considering experimenting with some curling irons like he’d seen his cook use. He was certain that Hanna would show him how to use them if he asked nicely.

But did he have enough time for that?

He still needed to set up his wraith problem, and it needed to be convincing enough to keep the witcher around long enough to get to know him, perhaps he could even lure the man to his bedroom if he were that way inclined.

Gods he hoped he was.

It had been too long since Julian, no, Dandelion, had had a male lover.

Well, if he was planning to seduce the man then he really should look his best but first he needed to make sure that they stage was set. He picked up his old forgotten lute from the corner of the bedroom, gently trailing a finger down the neck of the instrument before quickly plucking at the strings and fiddling with the pegs to make sure she was still in tune.

“I am so sorry darling.” He cooed to the instrument. “It’s been too long.”

He tucked her into his old lute case and appraised his reflection in his mirror.

“Hmm…” He stuck his tongue out as he concentrated. “Not quite right. Oh yes! My hat!” He swiped up a matching plum coloured bonnet and pinned a feather in place because plopping it onto his head. He looked back at his reflection with a furrowed brow and then inspiration hit him and he tilted his hat so he fell slightly to one side. “Perfect!”

He giggled and bowed dramatically to his reflection. “Master Dandelion, at your service!” He grinned seductively.

Oh this witcher would have no idea what hit him.

[ironwoman359]

Hello. I saw the post you reblogged about toxicity in the TS fandom. And as someone who is relatively new (Just over 2 months, heyo!), may I ask what kind of toxic behaviour do you see in the fandom? I hope this isn't too much for me to ask, I was just a bit curious and wanted some clarification on the matter. Please feel free to ignore this if it bothers you!

Well, welcome to the fandom, first of all! I hope you’re having fun so far. 

In regards to the post you’re talking about, I think @izzyfandoms said it best: “...most fandoms are okay but have a loud toxic minority, but for us the not-toxic people are often the loudest so we can come off as pure and perfect...” 

Most fandoms do have an amount of toxic behavior in them, it’s very rare (I’d say impossible, actually) to find one with zero problems, but it’s also usually more noticable in other communities than in this fandom, as we have been fortunate to have the non-toxic majority also be the louder voices most of the time (most often in fandoms, toxicity is a loud minority, though there are of course exceptions to this as well). 

The other thing I think is important to remember is that this fandom started out smaller than it is now. I’ve been a presence here since november 2017, and there are other who have been around even longer, and back then, the fandom was much smaller and therefore the toxic minority was even harder to notice. This led to us gaining a reputation of “purity,” which in turn made issues more complicated when they started to crop up. Every fandom is going to have issues, things that people in it disagree about, and people who try to stir up trouble. This is normal, and a fandom displaying those traits is not immediately a bad fandom. What can shift a fandom into an unhealthy one is when issues, disagreements, and drama become the focal point and people begin to treat each other poorly over these things. And I would say a majority of fanders are good at not falling into that type of thinking or acting. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, and it doesn’t mean that the fandom as a whole can just stick our heads in the sand and pretend everything is fine. 

So, you asked me what toxic behaviors I see. I’m going to talk about some examples I’ve seen in this fandom, and before I do I’d like to state first off that it is not my intention to attack anyone specific, or to shame people for their tastes in characterizations, ships, or their triggers or squicks. This is me trying to give my open and honest opinion about this community while being as respectful and tactful as possible. 

Also going forward, every time I say “the fandom” or “people” or refer to the community in some other all encompassing way, know that I do not mean every single person in it, or even a majority necessarily, just enough people to make it noticable. If you exhibit some of the behaviors I’m talking about, I’m not saying you’re a bad person or that you shouldn’t be here, far from it. But everyone has flaws, and these are just some common things that I see in this community. Maybe if you see yourself in this post, you can take a step back and consider your thoughts and actions to see how they may be harming you or others. 

Regardless of everything I’ve said and am about to say, I really love this fandom and the people in it, and I’m incredibly grateful for the impact it’s had on my life. Some bumps in the road aren’t going to change that. (Also I don’t engage with the fandom much outside of tumblr, things may be different on twitter, discord, or other places, this is just my experience with this platform specifically. Okay? Okay.)

So...here’s what I see in this fandom:

It is quick to judge. Anyone been here long enough to remember the week when Roman was “cancelled” between Accepting Anxiety part 1 and part 2? I came into the community later that year, but the fandom elders can tell you, there was a rally against Roman as a character, and a slew of people calling out prinxiety shippers for shipping such a “toxic ship.”  You’d think after that first time, the community would have learned to perhaps be not so quick in its judgements, but we’ve seen the same pattern over and over again.

People were quick to judge Deceit when his character was introduced, which was followed by a back and forth where people argued about what was and wasn’t “sympathetic” content, how things should be tagged, and 

People were quick to judge Virgil after Embarrassing Phases

People were quck to judge Patton after SvS and Patton AND Virgil after DWIT. 

People were quick to judge Remus after DWIT.

And here’s the thing, it’s fine if you have different interpretations of characters, or prefer certain versions. You see Patton’s character flaws and decide “you know what, this character isn’t for me now” or want to explore those flaws taken to their extremes? That is okay. What is not okay, and what this fandom does a lot, is insisting that YOUR interpretation and version of the character is the correct one and shaming people with different ideas. It’s fine if you don’t like Patton or take issue with his current flaws being displayed. It’s NOT fine to attack people who disagree and send anon hate to blogs who speak out in support of Patton. It’s fine if you don’t like unsympathetic sides content. It’s NOT fine to shame people who do or send anon hate to unsympathetic sides blogs. There are lots of different ways to interpret all SIX sides, and yet so often I see people go on some sort of crusade to defend their opinon and insist that it’s canon. 

But that’s all just the characters, this fandom also is very quick to judge the individuals in it. Real, breathing people with lives outside the internet are often shamed or attacked for their opinions about the characters, different ships, the way they’ve chosen to portray the characters in their art or stories, I could go on. Purity culture and cancel culture are prevalant in all areas of the internet, and this fandom is not exempt from it. Demonizing people for making small mistakes, or even for just disagreeing with you, is never okay, and yet it is something I’ve seen again and again in this fandom. Which leads me to my next point...

Anon hate. God, it makes me so angry, and this is the only one that I won’t try to portray both sides of or be diplomatic about, because it is flat out unacceptable no matter the circumstance. There are so many blogs in this fandom that have horrible anon hate problems, and I am sick of seeing it. I don’t care what a person has done or what opinions they have that you may disagree with, I don’t care if they’re the worst person in the world. It’s not okay to send anon hate, and it’s not okay to tell people to kill themselves. You find a blog in this fandom that you just Do Not like, either because of their content, their opinions, hell, just their personality? Unfollow them. Block them if you want. But sending anon hate over ships, characters, opinions and statements, it’s just childish and unacceptable. And it happens enough in this fandom that there are people who are afraid of making statements about things for fear of attracting more of that energy. Love always follows the hate and drowns it out in this fandom, for which I’m grateful, but the hate shouldn’t exist in the first place. Cut that shit out. 

In general, this fandom has not handled differing opinions well, be it opinions on how to tag content, disagreements over characterizations, or encountering an idea that you personally may not care for. It is ultimately up to individuals to curate their online experience, by unfollowing blogs they don’t like, blocking tags and blogs they don’t want to see, and reading summaries and content warnings before opening fics. Often in this fandom I think people get upset if something isn’t tagged the way they want it to be (and I’m not talking about not tagging triggers, I’m talking like, someone insisting a blogger tag deceit content as #ts deceit when they already tag it as #deceit sanders. In situations like that it is the responsibilty of that someone to either block the tags a blog is using or not follow blogs whose tagging system doesn’t work for them), or if someone disagrees with them and we forget that it is okay to just...unfollow people. You don’t have to follow every blog in this fandom to be a part of the community, and if a blog is making posts and content you don’t like, unfollow them, don’t attack them for it. Accept that they have as much a right to their opinions and their space in the fandom as you do, and adjust your block and follow list accordingly so that you can get the experience that YOU want out of this fandom. 

I hope this was helpful, and I hope it didn’t get too long for you. I’m not putting this under a cut because I think it’s important, but I will tag it as #longpost so my mobile users don’t suffer too much. If you want to discuss this in the notes, please keep it civil, and remember that we all are fans of Thomas here, and that we probably have more in common than we do differences. I love you guys, stay awesome

[cerastes]

I’m fine where I am. At least for now, I’m fine where I am. I work for my mentor, who supports me and teaches me still, I have a job at all during a pandemic, when I know many a colleague of mine does not. I am in a position where I can try new things and experiment with my craft, not through just theory, but through being able to put it into practice. I like where I am. I like who I am.

But I feel as though I wish to do more. Two years ago, in anticipation to my busy 2019, I started proactively trying out new things. More proactively than I usually am, I mean. Some stuck, others were a nice experience that I’m ok with not revisiting, others, I’m not particularly enthused about but I made promises regarding my presence and activity in those that stand to this day. I wish to do more. I understand that part of this hunger tinged in frustration comes from the pandemic in at least some degree; I intended on working out more than ever before this year, and I intended to start practicing archery.

There’s fun things to do. Streaming has been fun. I like it. Doing it as a group has been fun. I had always wanted to do more streaming in general, it’s just very calming and fun to sit there and talk while playing a game. I’m glad I’ve had AK to sink my teeth into, both in gameplay and in lore (seriously, how can a game so perfectly tailored for me exist?). Recently, I’ve started a creative project with my best friend. I’m very happy about this, we’re still very much in the preliminary phases, but I’m so happy it’s him with whom I can embark on this journey of creation. I guess it paid of to nerdify and weebify him, because I don’t think this would’ve been able to happen before, and I’m both a hermit and someone who has very particular views and opinions on the creative process and how to tackle it. I almost never collab, because I enjoy the silence and my own presence more than I do the company of others, but if it’s with my best friend, that doesn’t apply, I do enjoy his company more than my silence and presence. I’m happy about that.

I don’t know what else I’m going to try my hand at, and this is a weird thing for me to feel, but... I feel as if I could be doing something. Whenever I feel this way, I try things, because I dislike inaction, and I dislike people that endlessly complain about their inaction while remaining, you know, inactive. Makes my blood boil, I’ll be truthful, the whole “what am I doing with my life?” line of thought and vague text posts. If you have time to ask yourself that, you have time to get up and look for something to do, to be, to enjoy, to indulge, to create, to consume. At times I think it’s a harsh judgement, and it’s not like I don’t get how depression works -- been there, buddy -- but you can’t wait for someone to rescue you. I don’t resent self-indulgent media for being popular and not for me, but I do quite resent it for popularizing and romanticizing the idea that your sadness is something you need to be rescued from. You take the first step, and people will naturally help you out from there, but if you just loiter there saying sad and vague things, no one will bother.

In any case.

I’m looking for that, for that extra something I want to do. I don’t know what it is yet, but I know I want to do it, I feel as if I am wasting time not doing it. I am fervently inspired by seeing people I know chasing after things they’ve wanted to do. I, too, want to chase. Improving is a nice feeling. Trying out new things is a nice feeling. Routine is nice but only as long as it is constantly evolving instead of just becoming a stagnant cycle. 

Speaking of particularities regarding creation, though quite obviously I love reading, I’m still more a writer than a reader, and I don’t really talk about my creations. And being honest, I don’t often fancy hearing about others’ in a vacuum (ie. conceptually, “this is my OC!” I’d rather you write a story and show me that). This is a me thing, and I don’t think this explanation will actually be understood by too many (conceptually? yes, otherwise? no), but I think there’s too much You in your creation. This is perhaps just my psychologist brain being itself but people telling me all about their OCs unprompted, to me, who automatically reads between the lines both as seasoned reader and a psychologist, is akin to subjecting me to their psyche, and god I know this sounds cheesy and try-hard, I know, it is painful to write, but 6 friends in the last few months have made big life decisions which were foreshadowed to me by how much of them they put into their creations, which were shared with me. Likewise, I feel like sharing my creations too much, on a conceptual level, even, is putting myself out there. I doubt anyone did, but if anyone wondered why I don’t really share what I write or create with any sort of regularity, there’s why. I just think it’s intimate, and I don’t think intimacy is something to show to everyone, which I know is a weird damn way to see creative endeavors, trust me, but that’s how I view it. That’s not to say I don’t want people to see my things, not at all, I do update my writing blog now and then, after all, and I love seeing people read my stuff, this is more about... Sharing OCs, for example, in a vacuum and talking about them? Feels too weird for me.

Well, there’s that, but there’s also the fact that I also have another particularity (yes, I know) in which I don’t particularly care to hear about OCs as much as I want to see them in an actual written piece. Let me put it this way: I don’t care about a sock puppet if you show it to me during lunch, but I do care for it if you put up a play and let me see the sock puppet in action. I think people should enjoy art and creation in any way they do, but conversely, I like seeing creation in action, not conceptually. Conceptual is easy and vague. Write a story. That’s more exciting and enriching and lets me get a clear view of your created character more than your psyche and all the things you may not even know you’re clamoring (that you put on absolutely every OC, yes, we notice), so write, write, and write. Give your characters a context, scenario, a story.

Of course, I am merely speaking of my own preference. What’s more important is that you enjoy what you’re writing and what you’re doing. I just think a proper story in motion is far more interesting than concepts. I used to love “the concept of”, maybe you remember, I used to make a lot of posts regarding ‘concepts’ and being in love with the concept of this and that in writing. That’s been one of my major changes, honestly, I don’t love concepts anymore. I love execution now.

That’s about it, yeah, head emptied. Sleep now.