#so like he really does become the black sheep of the court when what happened is explained

[didsomeonesayventus]

Hey Brodia fans do we think there's a nonzero chance some fuckhead noble ends up thinking the Morion Incident was a covered up/conveniently timed coup so Diamant could take over

(This is, ofc, Bullshit™️, and it makes both Diamant and Alcryst understandably incredibly upset)

[qqueenofhades]

Okay, y'all. Time to do this one more time. Let the fact that there are so many of these posts right now reinforce the point. Many of you already know this, and I see and love you, but for anyone still ~undecided about their choice, should they be an American citizen of voting age on November 3, 2020:

Time to not be. It was time a long, long while ago, but I am going to have to say it again.

Primary season is over. The endless fine-tooth combing of candidates' policies and positions is over. We are all deeply well aware that the candidates on the Democratic ticket, being human beings and establishment politicians, are flawed. "BUT WHAT ABOUT THIS POSITION FROM 19/ 20-WHENEVER AS JUSTIFICATION FOR WHY IT'S TERRIBLE TO VOTE FOR -- "

No. Stop. Just stop. Stop threatening to hold the rest of us hostage, in the middle of a pandemic, the Great Depression, and racial inequality and protests on a scale not seen from the 1960s, because you did not get Barbie Dream Candidate. That is the behavior of terrorists and toddlers. If your supposedly enlightened morally pure ideology does not involve any action to mitigate the harm that is directly in front of you, it isn't worth a shit as an ideology actually devoted to helping people. If your approach to politics is to shout about how Pure your ideas are on twitter and tear down anyone working within a system of flawed choices to do the good that they can: you're not helping, and frankly, your constant threats to withhold your suffrage as a punishment to us aren't convincing the rest of us that we really need to listen to you or that you have anyone's best interests at heart. The Online Left TM is as much a vacuous, self-reinforcing noise chamber as the Online Right TM, and can sometimes tend to be even more dangerous.

I was saying this in 2016. A lot of us were saying this in 2016. I am just about to turn 32 years old and have been voting in federal elections for almost 15 years. For what it's worth.

This is not an ordinary election. This is not a contest between two flawed candidates who respect the system and want to work to enact their policies in the ordinary way. One is a flawed 90s era Democrat who nonetheless has already been pushed CONSIDERABLY left in his policies and platforms since the end of the primaries (and his existing platform would already make him the most left president elected, even more than Obama). The other is a fascist dictator who has openly spoken about refusing to accept the election results, his desire to abolish term limits and serve for life, and complete the pillaging of any remaining fragile American public funds for him and his cult of cronies. He does not respect the system. He does not want to do anything for anyone that is not himself. 160,000 and counting needless deaths of American citizens have already happened. Will keep happening.

This is the last time Trump has to face voters. This is the last chance the country has to repudiate his entire poisonous ideology and its marching Nazi minions. IF he steps aside, which is already far from guaranteed, he can ride off into the sunset as a vindicated two term president and probably be rehabilitated like George W. Bush was within a few years of leaving office. American political memory is very short. It will happen. Again, if he even leaves.

RBG is 87 and has cancer again. She will NOT survive another four years. Stephen Breyer is 81. Their seats could both come up in the next four years. The Supreme Court could be a right wing rubber stamp for whatever time we all have left before climate change and coronavirus kill us all.

"But if people just thought for themselves and did their homework and didn't vote the party line like sheep, we could support a third party/write in -- " Stop. Just stop. Attend a ninth grade civics class and learn about how politics work in America. Yes, the two-party system sucks. Yes, the Electoral College is a hot steaming pile of absolute bullshit. Magical unicorn fairy dust fantasies WILL NOT change that.

Do not vote for Kanye (who has pretty much openly admitted he is trying to play spoiler to Biden on behalf of his buddy Trump). Do not vote for godforsaken fucking Gary Johnson or Jill Stein who appear on ballots just to give sanctimonious leftists the illusion of virtue-signaling. If you want any chance of fixing the mess that 2020 has left America and the world in, you need to vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. The end.

Biden is a flawed old man who was our last choice, sure. He is also a distinguished public servant who has already been in the White House for eight years under Obama and thus we KNOW what to expect. He is an empathetic man who connects with people's personal tragedy and picked as his running mate a younger Black/biracial woman who directly confronted and called him out on past behavior. While the pundit class was simpering and whining about how it was Disrespectful and how could he consider her, Biden did so, and that speaks well to me of the fact that he is willing to learn, to take criticism, and not just accept it from a former Black female rival, but make her his second in command and the potential first female president of the United States.

Can you EVER picture Trump doing that? Not in eight thousand million years.

As for Kamala, we are all aware of her previous checkered history as a prosecutor (and even then, she did plenty of good things as well!). Since joining the Senate, however, she has consistently become one of its most progressive members. She is the co-sponsor of an economic aid package designed to give every American $2,000/month, backdated to March (the start of the coronavirus pandemic) and continuing at least a few months after its end. A Biden-Harris White House could make that happen. Especially if they are put into office with a Democratic House and Senate (for the love of God, Kentucky, kill Mitch McConnell with fire). That is just one example.

Harris's nomination is obviously historic. And Biden didn't choose another Biden (or another Tim Kaine, the blandest white man imaginable). He chose another Obama: a younger rising star of an immigrant background, a person of color, a former lawyer and someone who represents the diversity of the country that the white supremacists and the Cheeto in Chief have tried to paint as its worst and most degenerate evil.

A vote for Biden and Harris means getting rid not just of Trump, but Mike Pence, Vladimir Putin, Jared Kushner, Betsy Devos, the Trump crony destroying the Postal Service, the rampant coronavirus misinformation and bullshit, the destruction of Social Security and Medicare, the spread of Nazi propaganda from the President's twitter account, the likely two Supreme Court picks that would be as bad as Brett Kavanaugh or worse... on and on. Biden and Harris would be elected by progressive voters and thus answerable to them in 2022 midterms and 2024 general. They can both be, and already have been, pushed further left. They are reasonable and competent adults who have demonstrated experience and compassion. I KNOW about their flaws and past actions I don't agree with. But I'm frankly done with any more counterproductive straw man bitching about This One Bad Thing They Did and how it makes it a terribad awful choice to vote for them. Open your eyes. Look at the alternative. LOOK AT WHAT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED AND THE FACT THAT THIS IS NOT EVEN AS BAD AS IT COULD STILL GET.

Check your registration or register at vote.gov.

DO NOT LOOK AT POLLS AND DECIDE "EH BIDEN IS CLEARLY GOING TO WIN, I DON'T NEED TO VOTE." THAT IS HOW WE LOST LAST TIME.

Unseating incumbents is HARD. It is even harder when the other side has openly laid out their plan to cheat in great detail, and there is nothing really stopping them from doing it. The only thing, in fact, is massive, unfalsifiable results on an undeniable scale.

So:

Vote.

Vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris.

Thanks a lot.

[foxybananaaaz]

I’m going to make a post, and it’s going to be one of those “Defending Nesta Archeron” posts. But I’m going to go about it in a way that will hopefully help the anti’s understand a bit more why the “Nesta Stans” feel she deserves better. But I’m not going to coddle her, and lift her on a pedestal either.

Also, this is going to be a REALLY LONG POST. Also also, I am NOT a Nesta Anti. Nesta is my favourite character and why will be explained at the end of this long post.

I’m going to start off by saying that, the anti’s are correct in stating that Nesta is not a “good” character in the fact thats she is a bitch. She isn’t nice, she has a lot to make up for and make right. But I feel like the arguments the anti’s use, they don’t try to understand why Nesta is the way she is.

I want to start in the first thing Nesta does in the series that gets hate. Letting Feyre, her younger sister, solely provide for the family. As well as having such anger at Feyre despite Feyre keeping her family alive.

This is the first reason of many, that would make the ACOTAR books so much better if it were not in first person, because we never fully get Nestas thought process and reasoning.

There is such a small amount to go off, to try and understand Nestas thought process. Feyre even flat out asked Nesta why, and Nesta was fully prepared to answer, before getting interrupted by (I think) the two ravens Hybern sent to capture Nesta.

But what we DID get was that Nesta was waiting for their father to step up and provide for his children, keep his children alive, and waiting for him so long, that by the time Feyre finally took action, Nesta had so much hate for their father for not doing anything that she also resented Feyre for stepping in, and letting their father get off with doing nothing.

This isn’t a good enough reason to be a bitch to Feyre, and I understand that. But we don’t even know the whole story from Nestas side, because again, just as she was about to explain and answer Feyre, they got interrupted.

But even then, after a point, if, or when Nesta did come to, and realize that Feyre should NOT be the one to provide for the family, and put her foot down and stop Feyre, it would ultimately be worse for the Archeron family, because by then, Nesta has no survival skills, hunting skills, or any skills to provide for the family, so it would be more beneficial to let Feyre keep going out to provide and keep the family alive, which could be another reason Nesta comes off so bitchy at the start. Because she would know that there’s nothing she could do, and she needs to rely on letting her youngest sister go out. People also use this as a reason to hate Nesta, yet I don’t see people holding Elain with the same weight of this crime, as she ALSO let her younger sister go out to provide for the family. But this post isn’t about Elain. People also seem to gloss over the fact that Feyre herself starts the process of forgiving Nesta when Tamlin sends her back home in A Court of Thorns and Roses, and Nesta and Feyre end up talking.

Moving on to Nestas “sins” in A Court of Mist and Fury. This is another instance that shows that these books are lacking because of the first person limitations. Because being stuck in Feyre’s head, we know how crucial it is at this point that Feyre and the Inner Circle have that place in the Human Lands to meet with the Human Queens. We know what’s at stake. Nesta, does not.

And Nesta has every right to be cautious and wary of letting Feyre and the Inner Circle use her estate, because she grew up hearing the legends(albeit false) of the fae, and grew up hating the fae. Hell, even FEYRE grew up the same way, and we see this in just how long it takes for her to truly and fully open up and warm up to Tamlin and Lucien and the other fae in the Spring Court in the first book. Nesta, at that point, had every right to be hesitant.

Once this bump is passed over, Nesta even has her guests question her, and not kindly. Cassian at this point only knows what was told to him by Feyre and Rhys, and not the whole story, and jumps on Nesta the first chance presented for allowing Feyre to provide for the family.

Even with Wings and Embers, when, for the first time, we get to look through eyes that are not Feyre’s we see that it is Cassian instigating any tention between the two. While I love Wings and Embers, and the chemistry between Cassian and Nesta, you can’t say that Nesta starts any of their arguments. Though I may be wrong, but Nesta only ever responds to Cassian intently instigating her. She never comes to play nicely or fairly. But she only ever gives as good as she gets.

And Nestas hesitance, wariness, and caution against fae is proved, at the end of Mist and Fury, when her and Elain are kidnapped in the middle of the night, and forced into the cauldron, as a move against Feyre.

Moving on now to A Court of Wings and Ruin, you can’t deny that Nesta starts a redemption, albeit a small one, but it’s there. Just as the growth of forgiveness in Feyre’s heart.

You can’t deny it, especially when Nesta steps up, and actively helps, when she honestly has every reason to say no, and be done with it, and go on with her new Fae life. No one would have grounds to blame Nesta if she refused to help. But she didn’t. She agreed to train with Amren in figuring out her powers so she can find the hole in the wall, and close it. She agreed to go to the Court of Nightmares with Amren for this same reason. She came around and agreed to go to the meeting of the High Lords, and tell her story, after initially saying No. After the wall came down, she agreed to go with the Inner Circle to play her part in nullifying the cauldron. It was HER idea to lead the King of Hybern away from the cauldron so Feyre and Amren could do their thing with the cauldron. She is the one to cover Cassians body with her own against Hybern, despite Cassian telling her to run, she stays there, believing she will die. And when Elain stabs Hybern in the throat, Nesta is the one who ultimately finishes him off, cutting his head off all together.

You can not say that Nesta did not start her redemption in Wings and Ruin, because despite everything that’s happened, and having every viable reason to say no, and live her life, she does choose to help. Which is why reading about Nesta in Frost and Starlight is so heartbreaking and infuriating.

A Court of Frost and Starlight, I believe is the very book that so many people build their hate for Nesta on. She’s a bitch. She’s cold hearted. She’s distanced herself. She uses Rhys and Feyre’s money to feed her alcohol addiction. She has taken everything she’s built up towards in Wings and Ruin, and knocked it down.

To you I say, the reason is trauma. We learn in Wings and Embers that Nesta was sexually assaulted by Thomas. In Wings and Ruin, we learn that, because of the end of Mist and Fury, Nesta can’t take a normal bath because she’s brought back to the events of the Cauldron, and now in Frost and Starlight, we learn that Nesta can’t have a fire. She lives in the freezing cold in winter, because she can’t light a fire, because all she hears in the fire is her fathers neck being snapped right in front of her. This is not even mentioning the trauma of losing her mother at a young age, or having her father become a cripple and refuse to provide for his children. Nesta has so much trauma.

Nesta does not heal in the same way her sisters do. Nesta is pushing everyone away, because realistically, there’s no one who would stand by her side before anyone else’s. And why should Nesta keep the Inner Circle close when she is clearly the black sheep?

The only one to show Nesta any kind of respect is Amren, and that’s pushing it. And as much as I want to say Cassian does as well, I truly can’t, given that most, if not all, of their arguments were instigated by him. And to have him flat out tell her “Your sisters love you, but I don’t know why” or whatever the quote is, when all Nesta was doing was telling Cassian to go home, that she did not want his gift. This would also further show reason in her distancing herself.

Rhys makes no effort in hiding the fact that he doesn’t really like Nesta for letting Feyre be the one to provide for her family. Mor starts acting like a straight up bitch to Nesta in Wings and Ruin when Nesta actively starts showing concern and worry for Cassian. And you can say that it is because Mor is protective of Cassian and doesn’t want him hurt, but Mor goes out of her way to let her negative feelings towards Nesta known, even when Cassian isn’t around. Azriel and Feyre actually will use Nesta(and Cassian I guess) as the butt of the joke, when Azriel swoops in to “save” Feyre(for flight training) from Cassian and Nesta tension. Even Elain isn’t there to be a support for Nesta during Wings and Ruin, but I won’t blame her for it, because she’s also going through her own issues.

The reason I brought that all up, is to bring light to the fact that Nesta probably feels like she will be invalidated in her trauma with the Inner Circle. Nesta probably feels like they will not care, and thus pushes herself away, before that pain is added on. Nesta probably feels as if she truly has no one to turn to with her own traumas.

Nesta has trauma, and she’s dealing with it in her own ways. Are her ways the right ways to deal with trauma? Hell no. Not even close. And she probably knows this. She probably sees two paths of dealing before her. The right path, and the wrong path.

Here’s the thing though. Here’s the sad reality. So many people in our own world have so many traumas, and take that wrong path. So many people who have traumas, see the two paths before them, knowing which ones right and wrong, yet CHOOSE to take the wrong path to deal with their traumas because it’s easier. It’s not right. It’s easier. So many people, take their traumas and ALLOW it to shape them for the worse. Nesta Archeron, is one of those people.

The way Wings and Ruin ended left hope for Nesta to have a “happy” healing process. And I use the word “happy” extremely loosely there. Because Healing is not happy. It’s just made easier when you allow yourself to be surrounded by love and support. But SJM clearly didn’t choose that path for Nesta. The sneak peak at A Court of Silver Flames at the END of Frost and Starlight shows that SJM has a different healing path planned for Nesta and has from the beginning of Frost and Starlight I believe.

Nesta is my favourite character because the way she’s written, especially in Frost and Starlight, makes her one of the most realistic and human characters in the entire series, and the way she handles her trauma, proves that. I am excited to see her healing journey in A Court of Silver Flames.

Nesta is a bitch. She pushed everyone away. She let her trauma shape her for the worse. She has a whole lot to make up for, apologize for, and be held accountable to. But she needs to be given the chance to do so, before people write her off as an unforgivable character.

At the beginning of this post, I said it would be a long one, and it truly is. But despite everything I’ve said in this post, this next paragraph is where I will end this post. It is also the most important paragraph of the entire post, without question, so read it and understand it.

Trauma does NOT and should NEVER be an EXCUSE for shitty behaviour. There is ABSOLUTELY NO REASON to allow it to excuse shitty behaviour. That being said, it can, and often does EXPLAIN why said shitty behaviour is shitty. Excuse and Explain are two completely different words with very different meanings. So do not let the explanation of shitty behaviour EXCUSE said shitty behaviour.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading.

[hanadoesstuffbadly]

Gwen headcanons!!

Origins:

This got way longer and more dramatic than I originally intended...(TW: Blood, child abuse)

Guinevere (Gwen) was born to a noble family in Camelot in the exact, slim moment when the moon's full face was on the world. For this coincidence, she was born with the "curse" of lycanthropy.

Her first transformation happened a month later, and it prompted her parents to hide her away, telling anyone who asked that she was a weak, feverish little thing. Then, every month, under the full moon, she would turn, and promptly find herself muzzled and chained under the manor.

In her predominant human form, Gwen found that her parents treated her coldly.

This lasted till she was eleven. The full moon of mid-Autumn happened to be the rare "blood moon". Gwen shifted, but this time her thick fur was a shimmering red and her eyes black slits shocked with red lightning. Her mother and father, together with several trusted huntsmen, tried to muzzle her again. She lashed out, savagely biting her father on the arm and slamming her mother into a pillar when she came at her with a crossbow, but not before three arrow-bolts had lodged in her side. Injured, Gwen ripped the chains out of tbe hunters' hands and charged straight through the dungeon wall and into he night.

Gwen awoke the next morning lying in a forest clearing. Coating much of her body but especially her hands were sticky, muddied splashes of dried blood. She was naked save for the thick silver chain that hung around her throat which- try as she might- was irremovable, burning her skin where it touched. In her side their were three short arrows, piercing her skin deeply. After pulling them out, Gwen was shocked to see the wound knitting itself back together until only three pink scars remained. Once her memory returned, Gwen was horrified and swore not to hurt anyone ever again.

For the next two years, Gwen beneath in a hollow tree in that clearing, surviving off of anything she could forage or steal from the carriages of travellers. One of her most treasured items was a rich, thick crimson cloak that she took from a long procession of carriages that passed through the forest.

The village that sat on the forest's border was filled with rumours of a terrible wolf lurking in the trees, emerging every full moon to snatch one sheep from the field.

During a full moon one night, thirteen year old Gwen failed in her attempt to take a sheep. The shepherds alerted the town and hundreds chased her through the trees. Gwen ran till she found a cottage belonging to an old woman named Ulf. As Gwen fainted, Ulf stepped out and subdued the horde before taking Gwen in and looking after her.

Ulf was really a member of an order of fairies. With dark blue markings covering her skin, she understood being ostracized for something beyond your own control and so she took pity on Gwen, raising her in the role of her nan.

Headcanons:

Gwen is the baby sister of the group. When Arthur announces his plan to propose to her, he gets over twelve seperate threats of dismemberment should he hurt her in any way. The girls especially are very very protective of her.

When not in her wolf form, movement can be quite stiff and difficult for Gwen. Nevertheless, she is absurdly strong for such a small person. She is second only to Snow in the arm-wrestle leaderboard.

After each full moon, Gwen is exhausted and can barely move for about a day. When the others discover this, they make an absolute fuss. Snow prepares a cosy room for her to go and sleep in should she be staying at White Castle at the time and Hans has an influx of her favourite foods at the ready. Arthur is by far the fussiest, asking her every eight minutes if she needs anything. Eventually Snow stations Briar outside the door with a longsword so that Gwen can get some actual rest. Gwen herself finds his attentiveness adorable- especially if it results in sleepy cuddling

Jack learned how to style very short, thick hair and now, while they're all just chilling with their favourite werewolf, he is very strict about the long Dutch braids he curls into her fur. This results in human Gwen waking up the next day with her entire head tied up in scraggly knots, causing it to puff up like a balloon for about a week. He cares about Gwen a lot and they have many heart-to-heart talks about growing up in unloving homes.

Gwen is not ticklish, but she does have an aptitude for working out where others are ticklish. She chooses not to use this power for evil, but rather for profit: If Briar helps her clean up she'll tell her about the spot behind Hans' ear that makes him crumple on the floor.

When Arthur found out about what Gwen's parents did to her, he went to his father in full prince mode and had them banished from the court of Camelot. The two- who had become very wealthy and fortunate since the blood moon- thought they had gotten off quite well, until they returned home to find their manor split in two by what must have been a freakishly enormous bolt of lightning. In the centre of the damage, three crossbow arrow-bolts and a thick silver chain, were placed neatly on the ground.

Gwen kept her word about never wanting to hurt anyone again. The next time there was a blood moon, she almost lashed out at her friends, and after coming back to her senses, she ran away, distraught and ashamed of losing control. She didn't expect them to follow her and let her know that it wasn't her fault.

After Ulf meets the F7+ the girls, she decides to adopt them all and becomes a nan to all of them. She had heard of the F7 from rumours and the talk of the other fairies, and had thought them all ridiculous clowns. Then she meets them and decides that they are all big babies that need hugs.

Ulf has a grandson of her own named Robin, he leads a band of rebels in the forest

[circe-poetica]

Rethinking Venus/Saturn in Synastry

This blog post is republished by permission of the author and originally appeared at The Inner Wheel. August 17, 2010 by Dawn Bodrogi 

Most people approach Saturn in synastry as a necessary but bitter pill that must be swallowed in order for there to be some kind of longevity in the relationship. Even if we don’t look at him with dread, we furrow our brows when we notice where he falls. Saturn in synastry gets blamed for all kinds of things – shattered illusions, betrayals, power struggles, abandonment – that don’t belong on his square shoulders at all. His glamorous outer planet brothers seem to get away with murder, and never take on that kind of flak. It always amazes me how often students dump on Saturn placements, when most often it’s Uranus, Neptune or Pluto who deserve the blame. But honestly, given the choice of an aspect between charts, I’d take, say, Moon opposite Saturn way before I’d take Uranus, Neptune or Pluto there. Saturn can be reasoned with. Not like the killer trio. Saturn needs some new PR.

One of the reasons we abhor Saturn is that he doesn’t let us get away with anything. In this, he is definitely the strict parent who knows us inside and out, especially when we tell him we’re going to the library when we really have plans to stay out way past our bed time. Saturn is the one who pushes us to work harder when we feel like being lazy. Saturn is the one who nags us about the right things at the right times. Saturn can behave this way in relationships, too, and it takes a very mature individual to appreciate it, especially if Saturn is acting out of genuine regard and not just projecting his own issues onto us.

Saturn is diligent. If we ignore what he tells us and what he expects of us, he will wait and bring us the same lessons later, only this time it will be harder, because our behaviour has become more entrenched with time. Time. Now there is a good Saturn word. Saturn knows that we only have this one life (as far as we know for sure) and the clock is ticking. There are things we need to accomplish, things we need to learn. Tick tock. Tick tock.

When Saturn is working well, he works hand in hand with the Moon. This is the natural cardinal pairing of Cancer/Capricorn, which is as natural a partnership as Aries/Libra. Cardinal signs initiate, and one of the things they initiate is partnership. Moon/Saturn also represents the ‘other’ angle, the MC/IC, which is the spine of the chart and crucial in partnership. (See my series on the MC/IC, and Beyond Mom and Dad, Saturn as a Relationship Planet.) Moon/Saturn is how we fashion our consciousness, our raw psychic material, into concrete accomplishment. Moon/Saturn hard contacts within a natal chart are so painful because we sense that what we have, what we were born with, is not adequate enough for us to create what we want. We feel we are hobbled before we begin the race. It takes a lot of inner work, and a lot of interaction with the outside world, before the two can work together.

I consider all of the rulers of the cardinal signs relationship planets. Not that the other planets don’t affect partnerships – they do, intensely. But the ‘prime movers’ of relationship are Venus, Mars, Moon, and Saturn. (This is very clearly seen via progression.) The Sun is a relationship planet as well, particularly paired with the Moon, but the Sun operates in a dimension beyond day to day reality, and is, quite frankly, hard for us to get hold of. We feel it (if we’re lucky), we identify with it, but we can’t really manipulate its energy or work with it the way we can with the inner planets. (For more on the Sun, see my five part series, “The Mystery of Solar Fire.”) We’re infused with the Sun, but we have no power over it. It has plans for us we’re not allowed to discover until the time is right. There’s that word again. Time. That’s Saturn’s realm.

We all identify with each one of these planets, but they will also play a role in giving us an idea of the opposite sex. If we toss them around, and pair a masculine planet with a feminine one, we get some very interesting combinations. Two of the most intense are two that are rarely discussed. One is Moon/Mars, which I’ve talked about before, both on my blog and in a two part article for Sasstrology.com – steamier, more intense, more intimate and yes, a little scarier, than Venus/Mars. But the real black sheep of the bunch is Venus/Saturn. If you’re not aware of Venus/Saturn as a relationship magnet, it can hit you blindside.

In the words of Liz Greene, from her book Saturn, A New Look at an Old Devil – one of the greatest books on Saturn – when Saturn sees something it wants, it can act like “the most inflamed Mars.” No one thinks of Saturn that way. And yet, in practice, over the years, I’ve seen him do just that, over and over and over again. Why? The secret of Saturn, and the Saturn/Moon combination, is that Saturn needs. He knows what he has to do, and the clock is ticking. If you have what he needs, he will court you like a lovesick swain. His love is genuine, desperate. Tick tock.

What Saturn wants is Venus. All that grace, all that gentility, all that beauty, is a balm to his harsh existence. When Venus touches Saturn, he is no longer the builder, the taskmaster, the responsible one. In Venus’s presence he can become the master craftsman, the artist. His work has a purpose beyond the mundane. He can take the raw materials of Venus, her beauty, her desire, and use them to achieve his purpose in an elevated and more gentle manner. Venus encourages him to share his skills and experience. Venus wants to be desired, and she senses his need. Remember that Saturn is exalted in Libra.

But Saturn/Venus doesn’t pounce, as Mars/Venus might and Mars/Moon often does. (Mars/Moon is a contact between two primal forces, where Saturn/Venus is much more sophisticated.) Saturn will court. Saturn will spend time. Saturn will feed your cat when you’re away and mend your loose wiring and fill your refrigerator on top of it. When you return, Saturn will hold your hand and talk to you through the night and stoically suppress sighs of longing – until one day when you trust him utterly and he’s certain he won’t be rejected, he will pounce. Saturn can wait forever where Venus is concerned. Saturn is desperate for appreciation, and appreciation is what Venus does best. This is always a very sensual tie, no matter what sign it falls in. The earthy, Taurean side of Venus is a natural match for the equally earthy Saturn. And they will want the best of everything for and from one another, and they are both very security-minded planets. With the hard aspects there will be more striving, and more tussling for rewards (internal and external), but the same underlying desire will be there.

As with all aspects, nothing can be taken out of context. Problems come when either of the planets is debilitated in the natal chart. If the person with the Saturn has a Saturn placement that causes it to be full of fear and defensiveness, if it constantly feels inadequate and suppressed, it will take it out on Venus, who will feel hurt and betrayed, and surmise that Saturn’s desire was a lie. If the Venus person’s self-confidence is on the brink, or if the person’s Venus is dominated by Uranus, Neptune or Pluto, Saturn may never obtain the security it desires, and may be shocked when the outer planet steamroller rides into town and his once accommodating partner shows herself to be elusive or manipulative. Sometimes, though rarely, the planets only want a specific thing from one another, to learn a specific lesson, and once that lesson is learned, the attraction cools. That can happen with any planetary inter-aspect, but the fallout here can be devastating, because of the trust involved, and the whispered promises of forever, which can be very loud when these two connect.

The most common thing I hear when I see a Venus/Saturn inter-aspect is, “We didn’t do anything the first night we spent together. We just held one another.” That’s what Venus/Saturn is doing. Holding on in the dark of the night, remaining in the here and now, taking joy from the warmth and the comfort.

[katedrakeohd]

A Choices: The Royal Masquerade Fanfiction

Pairings :(MC) Julia Aster x Renza Fierro,

Julia Aster x Kaydan Vescovi

Author's Note: As I transferred this story from writen page to digital it occurred to me just how long it was becoming so I've had to break it up into several parts.

...........................

Part One:

A State of Undress

The morning is sunny and warm on the day of our cruise on the Fierro yacht. I’m standing outside in my courtyard with my steward Vasco waiting for Renza’s carriage to come pick me up. As I smooth my hands down over my corset and skirts for the hundredth time, Vasco notices my nervousness and smiles.

“I suppose this will be your first time on a sailing ship M’lady,” he says.

“Yes, it will.” I nod.

“I’ve heard that Lord Hector is a very honourable man. Are you anxious to meet him?”

To tell the truth I’ve barely thought of him at all today. And it’s not Hector or the boat trip that have me feeling anxious. Since we’ll be with the Fierros, that means Kaydan the Crown Shield will be around too. And these days he has occupied my thoughts more than anything.

“I’m hoping Lord Hector isn’t as dull and strange as Lord Emery is. Such a disaster that dinner was. If it weren’t for Henry rescuing me with a new plate of dinner after Cyrus and Emery left the table I would have starved to death.”

My pet wolf cub Astro scampers around the courtyard threatening to trample the flowers. His antics have stolen Vasco’s attention and my comments go unanswered. I shrug and go back to my own thoughts.

Ever since I met Kaydan Vescovi the night of the masquerade, I haven't been able to get him off my mind. Just being around him with his dark eyes, wavy black hair and strong muscled physique is enough to make even the most sober person feel a little intoxicated. When he smiles at you and gives you his full attention it's like nothing else matters. I consider myself a lucky woman to have had the chance to spend so much time with him these past few weeks. As the Crown Shield wherever King-regent Henry Fierro goes, Kaydan isn't far behind. Between both handsome men being around lately it's like receiving two beautiful presents for your birthday when you're only expecting one.

During the joust when Kaydan and Henry both sought my favor, it was such a thrill. But when the swords came out after they had both been knocked off their horses, I realized that the rivalry goes much deeper. Fortunately the duel ended without anyone getting seriously injured. I know they're friends and I would hate to see them ruin that because of me. But still I must admit seeing Kaydan win was exciting.

In the stables after the joust Kaydan told me that it had been fun to fight Henry in front of the crowd. Being able to knock his half-brother Cyrus down a peg anonymously as the Black Knight had also been satisfying for him. His victory takes the title of Champion of the Tournament of Flowers out of noble hands. I enjoyed cheering with the other spectators, even if I was the only one hoping for Kaydan to win.

Henry is all sunshine, winks and flirty smiles. There's no wonder all the single ladies at court clamor for his attention. There's no mystery to him and he wears his heart on his sleeve. He radiates a perfect example of wealth and privilege. When I'm around him I’m polite and friendly. He's given me no reason to doubt his intentions as Crown Regent are genuine. But for me all I feel is loyalty not affection.

Kaydan is all long looks, secret smiles and quiet respect. Although he was born of nobility, he's not considered one of them. He's accepted his place as the bastard son and chose a life of hardship and responsibility in the guard.

Henry may have his name and noble house to hold him up, but it's Kaydan's humble strength and sense of duty that protects him. I admire Kaydan for that, although he won't accept the title of hero no matter how often he's earned it. There's more to Kaydan than his imposing presence. I'm drawn to him in a way that goes beyond the physical, and I’m determined to know him better.

He's worked his way up through the ranks to become Crown Shield, and earned the respect of many along the way. I've sought out his expertise in matters of security, and he's always seemed pleased to have my company. Sometimes when we're alone we comfortably lapse into conversation and he lets down his guard a bit.

In the short time we've known each other we've developed a mutual respect and kinship. When we're alone I'm just Julia the scribe, and he's just Kaydan the black sheep and we're comfortable with that.

I hear Renza's carriage approaching and take a deep breath to prepare myself to be in her company. She's as brash and confident as her brother is charming and sweet. I never know what she's going to say or do when we're together.

Vasco steps forward to open the door of the carriage for me, “Are you entirely sure you don't want me to travel with you your Ladyship? There's room for one more in the carriage.”

As I take his offered hand to assist me up into the carriage, I smile and shake my head. “I'll be fine with Renza. Please make sure that Astro is fed and properly put away for me, and then join us at the marina later for the trip.”

Vasco nods, bowing to me, “As you wish.”

Tucking my skirts around my legs I settle down on the seat opposite Renza. Once Vasco has closed the door behind me, Renza looks me over critically from head to toe and then shrugs.

“Well good morning to you too,” I jest.

“My dear Julia, please tell me you don't expect to impress Lord Hector wearing that?”

I can't help but take offense to her remark since I am wearing a gown in the rich tones of blue and gold that represent my noble house. The House of Aster. I’m not sure if her jab is an intentional insult to my house or my sense of style, so I try my stoic best to deflect it as irrelevant.

“Honestly Renza. If I must marry someone for the sake of politics, what does it matter what pretty wrapper I am presented in?”

It's not like I'm that excited to be offered up to Hector as some sort of trophy wife.

“You may say that now, but you don't need to sound so bored and dismissive about the prospect of a match.”

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound that way. I'm just distracted. My poor sister has still not awakened, and suddenly becoming the head of my household is overwhelming. I've barely had the chance to figure out what that even means, and now I am expected to marry myself to a total stranger to support the Crown. Whatever happened to falling in love and getting married. That's what I really wish I could do.”

Renza laughs, “Oh you're such a Romantic. Don’t forget that you're a noble now. Marriage for nobles is a contract with obligations, land titles and bank accounts. Romance is for affairs outside of marriage. Why are you so hung up on love and romance anyway? Is there someone you've had your eye on?”

“I…well. I don't want to say. That's between him and I.” I can feel myself blushing.

“Ok fine, but I'll find out one way or the other. I bet a little wine will get you talking.”

Before I can turn her down, Renza has already opened a bottle of red wine and poured me some. It's still morning but apparently Renza feels that drinking wine is appropriate for all hours of the day.

When the carriage turns off of the main road and onto her Manor's private lane one of the wheels bounces over a rock. I gasp in surprise as the wine in my goblet splashes over the front of my dress.

“Oh no! This is a disaster.” I cry.

Renza produces a handkerchief out of the bodice of her gown and offers it to dab at the wine stains.

“Well that's a shame. But look at it this way. Now I’ll have the excuse to put you in a dress suitable to impress the pants off Hector and your secret lover.”

I hand her back her handkerchief, shaking my head. “We're hardly lovers.”

“Not yet. You may have been able to charm the minds of men at court so far with your cleverness and wit. But leave it to me and your looks will charm the rest of their…parts.”

I roll my eyes, “Oh please Renza I’ve already gotten my fill of Cyrus and his brand of sleazy charm. I don't want all the men at court to start talking to me that way. I implore you to at least keep some shred of my dignity intact.”

As the carriage comes to a stop, I look out of the window and marvel at the grandeur of the Fierro Estate. Renza escorts me to the dressing room attached to her bedroom to get changed. The opulent furnishings of even this room put most of what I have back home to shame.

Renza wastes no time in helping me get out of my dress. As I stand in my underclothes she gives me another critical inspection and I feel myself blush.

“H..happy now?” I stammer.

Renza's surprised expression takes me off guard, “More like impressed! With a body like that you could make a bedsheet look alluring. I'm almost tempted to send you out like this.”

Crossing my arms across my chest I frown at her, “Renza, seriously. Focus.”

She gives me another critical inspection, making me feel even more uncomfortable.

“Natural beauty aside, whoever tied this corset isn't doing you any favors. Here let me fix it for you.”

I back away, holding up my hands. "No, no. Leave it alone. I like being able to breathe thanks.”

She sighs and then steps away from me again. “As you wish.”

I'm still standing in just my underwear as she continues to talk.

“So are you curious about meeting Hector at all?”

“I'm mostly curious about what kind of person he is.”

“Well professionally all that I can tell you is that he is a trade expert hired by the merchants across Cordonia to help improve their business.”

I try to sound interested, “So he's …business minded.”

Renza scoffs, “Well when you say it that way it makes him sound stuffy. Lord Hector sails the world and visits all sorts of interesting places. Imagine the fascinating stories he could tell."

I nod, "Well then I guess he doesn't sound so stuffy after all."

Renza smiles, looking relieved "Good now let's get you dressed. Stay here while I fetch you something to wear."

She gives me a wink and then leaves me alone. I feel self conscious, exposed and plain in such a fancy room. When I hear the door open suddenly I turn around expecting Renza. But instead it's Kaydan!

"Lady Renza, I found the --... "

He stops short and his eyes go wide when he sees me, "Julia!"

I feel myself blush to the roots of my hair, but as shocking as it is for him to see me in my underwear, I can't help but feel a rush of excitement too. My heart is pounding like crazy in my chest, but I flash him my bravest smile and place my hands on my hips and ask, "Looking for something?"

He's still standing there rooted to the spot and gaping. "I..I wasn't expecting -- .."

"Hmm?" I smirk at him, stepping closer.

He clumsily shuffles backward, trying to avert his eyes from seeing so much of my bare skin.

Renza re-enters the room and gasps, "Crown Shield, what in the world do you think you're doing?"

"But..but.." he stammers, looking at us both.

"Out, out, out! Now!" she shrieks.

He quickly shields his eyes and mumbles his apologies as she pushes him out of the room and closes the door.

"The nerve!" she exhales with relief.

Biting my lip and trying to hide my grin, I giggle. "I hope that he enjoyed that as much as I did."

Her mouth drops open and her eyes sparkle with amusement as she laughs, "Lady Julia Aster, you saucy minx!"

"What? Accidents happen. Besides he knows this is your room so I could ask you questions too."

Renza brushes off my remark and raises her chin giving a haughty retort, "Well this is my house after all. Quit avoiding the issue. Out with it, you like him don't you. And here I thought it might be Henry."

Breathing a sigh of resignation I admit it, "Yes, Kaydan is who I'm interested in. Please don't tell anyone. I know he's not noble."

Renza laughs, "True, he wouldn't improve your social standing as a match, but he's definitely an impressive piece of man to have on the side. If you're saying there's more to him than what's on the surface then I must say congratulations to you both."

I open my mouth to protest that Kaydan is more than just a side piece, but then decide to change the subject. "If I'm to impress Kaydan or Hector today you better give me something to wear."

Renza blinks, remembering the gown she has in her arms. "Of course, where was I?" she hands me the dress. "You're sure to grab attention in this."

As she lays the shimmering blue and white silky and sheer fabric in my arms I am amazed at how light and airy it feels. It's surely worth more than my entire wardrobe.

I stammer as I thank her, "Are..you sure about this? Have you nothing more plain or modest?"

"No, no I insist. Consider it my engagement gift to you. It never fit me properly anyway. Hector won't be able to take his eyes from you."

Or Kaydan either, I thought to myself.

I nod gratefully and step into the dress, "Well thank-you, could you help me fasten the lacing in the back?"

Renza smiles as I turn around. She adjusts and ties the satin lacing a little tighter than necessary, and I find it difficult to breathe. Is she jealous that the dress fits me better, or is she feeling spiteful and wanted Kaydan for herself?

As I turn back around and catch sight of myself in the mirror I can't help but smile.

Behind me I catch Renza's expression and she looks annoyed as she says, "Alright then now that you're wearing a properly fitting garment, let's be off, the carriages await."

...

Continue on here

Tagging:

@gardeningourmet @samihatuli @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @dcbbw @mfackenthal @bobasheebaby @pedudley @be-still-my-aching-heart @krishu213 @ibldw-main

[peakysabrina]

Heaven

How Jeremiah met his wife, how they got married, and the story of how Isaiah was born.

TW for miscarriages, sorry!!

Jeremiah Jesus had tried to become a priest before, but because of the reasons stated above, had been pushed out of the noble calling of God. Time and time again, he had gone to the seminar, and had done what all the white boys had done, better than them, and was still rejected with a snare and everything short but a kick to the backside. Somehow, his devotion to God wasn't good enough, his oratory wasn't good enough, and him as a man wasn't enough. Every time, he knew very well why it had been: because he was black, his parents were from the Caribbean, and he didn't fit the Church of England's image of a good shepard for their sheep. The sheep, better known as citizens, weren't big on other ethnicities, and a coloured pastor could drive them away from church, and away from the brain-wash that went on inside such venerable buildings.

So Jeremiah Jesus gave up, tired of wasting his time studying the Bible and the great Classic masters of oratory, given that it was of no use. Instead, he decided it would be much better to make it on his own, to go off into the world, make his money, find a job, one that he could excel at, despite the colour of his skin, or the place of origin of his parents. The first step to make that happen was to go around to the shops, to try and find someone who would employ him, even if it was in the backrooms, or warehouses. No one agreed, so Jeremiah moved on to the farms and factories around Birmingham. There, in the small property of Jacob Steadman, he found what he was looking for: a steady position as farm hand, doing whatever was needed.

The Steadman family was composed of seven people: the father, Jacob, who was married to Lucinda; the eldest daughter, Lucy; and four younger siblings, named Jacob Jr., Alphonse (who went by Alphie), Henrietta and Julius. They had a couple more men on the property, who mostly dealt with the produce the family sold at nearby markets. The Steadmans weren't rich, but they lived comfortably, which allowed them a bit more independence, and an education for their children. The eldest one, a beautiful red-haired girl in her early twenties, was especially gifted, and wrote stories for her younger brothers and sisters, which she also illustrated with all the care in the world. She was, unfortunately, prone to bouts of coughing fits, with no apparent reason, and the fairy-tale sessions were often interrupted by these moments, much to her sadness.

"Hey. You need any help?" the same Lucy came asking, carrying a tin full of water and a plate of food. "You've been at it for hours, eh?"

"It's my job" Jeremiah replied, looking up from the car tyre he was trying to patch up, and seeing that blessed apparition, made even more welcome by the food she was holding. "I will accept some lunch, though"

"Yeah, thought so" she replied, chuckling and handing him the plate and the water. "How's it going with dad's car? That tyre's busted"

"Busted is... an understatement. You feeling better today? I heard you coughing yesterday"

"I uh... I'm better, I think, yeah" Lucy sighed, obviously not one bit better, but refusing to look weak, even in front of the help. "To be honest with you, I don't think I'll ever get any better. But that's just my opinion"

"Have you been to a doctor?" Jeremiah looked up from his plate, still chewing a bit of meat. "Nothing they can do about it?"

"I've been to a couple doctors, and none of them know what the hell is going on. Shit, sorry, shouldn't curse, you're religious" Lucy let out, apparently unaware that it hadn't been offensive, but rather funny, to hear someone so proper speaking like that.

"No problem, I'm not that religious" he assured, observing closely the process of his boss's daughter crouching, and then sitting on the ground. If he was asked, a lady sitting on the ground, talking to the coloured help would be much more scandalous than all the cursing in the world. But he liked how pratical she was, how she didn't let her obvious beauty and good manners get in the way of doing what she wanted to do. "I have a chair somewhere over there, if you want"

"Nah, I'm alright, thanks" was the quick answer, accompanied by a shrug. "I'm sorry if I kept you awake with my coughing"

"You didn't. I couldn't sleep anyway"

"Anything worrying you?" Lucy kindly asked, taking a nearby wrench and playing with it, throwing it in the air a couple of times, and catching it with precision. "Well, anything I can help you with? Even if it's just talking"

"On second thought, maybe it was your coughing" Jeremiah joked, finishing his lunch and taking a big swig of water. "No, it's nothing. I was reading, and I lost track of time"

"I know that feeling. You know what I was reading? That one author you showed me, Jane Austen. Really like her stuff" Lucy informed, dreamily looking into the distance. Truth be told, Jeremiah was terrified of her when she looked like that, terrified of the way it made him want to lunge forward and kiss her. It was unspokenly agreed between the two that whatever the thing between them was, it was friendship, and just that: friendship.

"Glad you like it, I came across some stuff of hers through a friend of mine in town" he replied, clearing his throat, and coming back to reality. "His dad knew her dad, or so he says"

"That's interesting. What about you, what were you reading?"

"Do you even need to ask?" he laughed, drinking what was left from the water. "I go back to it a couple times a year, to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Helps me keep my mind in the right place"

"Fair enough, Jimmy. No shame in that" she responded, using that name that only she was allowed to use. She didn't like the name Jeremiah for some reason, didn't like the way it sounded; but Jimmy sounded good, it suited him. Reading the Bible and losing track of time because of it also suit him, and Lucy was very aware that it was just one of the manners in which he was perfect, in which he made her fall for him.

"You've read the Bible, haven't you?"

"Might have... when I went to Sunday School. Ah, and on Sundays, they always read a bit, don't they? Can't say I remember reading it from start to finish in one go, though" she admitted, tapping her fingers on her lips as she gave the subject some thought. "I prefer novels, You know the ones, where the girls have pretty dresses, and always end up marrying the man of their dreams and living in a mansion"

"That what you want to do?"

"Pfff" Lucy let out, a strange and humorous sound that made Jeremiah laugh along. "I don't really care about dresses, and mansions are too much maintenance. As for the man of my dreams, he knows where I live, he can come get me if he wants" she added, looking down, and then up at him. Another good thing about Lucy was this: she knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. The ball was in his court, so to speak, and there was no religion that could provide an answer.

That conversation was the latest of many they had shared, and hints had been coming all along. But it was all in good fun, a bit of light flirting between friends. There had never been anything like that very particular jab, and it wasn't mistakeable for banter. So, it was time to make a decision: to stick to friendship, maintain everything as it was, and resort to reading the Holy Book to drown the noise of his very obvious attraction; or to go ahead and go get the girl he wanted. It was true: he knew where she lived, and knew which room was hers. It had to be the one which still had light coming from underneath the door. She had to be awake, and alone, for them to be able to talk through what they needed to talk through. As softly as he could, he knocked, and the door opened instantly, like she had been waiting. Knowing Lucy, she probably had been, although she would not admit to it.

"Thank God, I was starting to think you hadn't gotten my hint" Lucy scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Took you long enough"

"It wasn't an open invitation, was it? What happens if your parents come around to check on you? And what if they hear us?" Jeremiah asked in return, fully regretting what he had done. It would mean being dismissed on the spot, and he couldn't really afford to go back to his parents' house. "I can't lose my job"

"You won't, don't think about it" she guaranteed, going around Jeremiah and locking the door. "See? They can't come in"

"What does it mean, then? What do you want to do?" he asked, bearing in mind that a decision had to be made, and the sooner the better, before someone caught them.

"Do I need to know? Do you really need an answer to that?" Lucy asked, biting her lip repeatedly, obviously nervous for being put on the spot.

"If I didn't need to know where we stand, I wouldn't have come here, now would I?" Jeremiah asked, losing a bit of his cool. It was in his nature to need everything decided, and defined. The idea of puting them both at risk for nothing was annoying, to say the least. "I came here for nothing, wasn't it, Lucy?"

Her reaction was completely unexpected: instead of pouting, or retaliating, Lucy simply walked up to him, placed her hands on his neck, and pulled him down, kissing him on the lips. For good measure, she took Jeremiah's own palms and placed them on her waist, where he could feel the warmth of her skin through the cotton of the nightgown.

"Would this be considered nothing?" Lucy asked, breaking the kiss but making sure Jeremiah's hands stayed where they were. "Because if so..." she continued, taking his writs, and making his hands move to her thighs, and then up, and up, until the nightgown was over her head and on the floor. "...would this be better?"

For once, Jeremiah was speachless, and torn between looking at her face, or looking down at her body, which was wrong, but pretty damn irresistible. He didn't know whether she was aware of what she had done, but it didn't seem to be a problem when he bent over to kiss her, taking her into his arms without thinking too much about it.

After that night, things only escalated: from sex, to talks of marriage, and to a proposal, done beneath the apple trees on a warm Spring day, complete with the best ring the sparse money Jeremiah could buy. At the same time, he'd started making efforts to find a new job, whereas Lucy had gotten employment at the Birmingham library, in hopes that some day, they could tell her parents about their engagement. Once that was out of the way, they could get married, and move into their own house, living their lives, building a family, having a good existence. Luckily, there had been an opening for Bible Studies teacher, under mysterious circumstances, but that were probably connected with the imprisonment of the deacon. Hence, it was time: Lucy's parents had to know.

"Mom and dad, me and Ji... I mean, me and Jeremiah have something we need to tell you" Lucy started, getting her mother's attention, while her father kept on reading the newspaper. "We're engaged to be married"

"You're what? To... to each other?" mrs. Steadman asked, absolutely caught off guard.

"Yeah" her daughter responded, showing her mother the engagement ring.

"No"

"What?"

"I said no" mr. Steadman chimed in, lowering the paper, and looking at his daughter with the utmost disgust. "You are not marrying a coloured man, let alone a poor one"

"Excuse me, sir, but I don't think the colour of my skin has anything to do with this subject. I love your daughter, I am prepared to offer her the best life I possibly can" Jeremiah protested, forcing Lucy to take his arm, to pacify him a little.

"Look son, I have no problem with the colour of your skin, but I am not letting my daughter marry you" Jacob replied, as if he was simply commenting on the weather outside. "You have no idea how people will treat her if she marries you"

"I'm not unaware of that, dad, I know how stupid people are; I don't care about any of that, I'm prepared to deal with whatever is thrown at me. Jeremiah asked me to marry him, I said yes, and that's that. You can be by my side on my wedding day, or not. That's your call" Lucy stated, beggining to feel the burn of anger on her throat. "He's the man I want, he's the man I love, and that's that on that"

"Out" Jacob simply stated, his eyes as clear as day, pointing to the door. He didn't even raise his voice, but the message as loud: he wanted the both of them out of his house, and he wanted them to go without missing a second. As for his wife, she just lowered her head and went back to sewing, pursing her lips but saying nothing. It seemed like the only one affected by that demand was Lucy, whose eyes filled with tears, and fists clenched. "I said out, didn't you hear me? Out of my sight, both of you. And don't you dare come back"

Matter of fact, they didn't. Lucy packed her clothes and some books she'd bought with her own money, wrote a letter to her siblings explaining why she had to leave, and was out of her childhood home before dinner time. As for her fiancé, a completely distraught Jeremiah, there was not much to be said: the guilt he felt in his heart was so overwhelming he wanted to simultaneously punch Jacob Steadman and hug Lucy, to cry on her shoulder. It was her spirit that never waivered, it was her that got him out of the property her parents owned, and it was her who found them a room to rent while they saved up for an apartment or house of their own. Their landlord, Arthur Shelby, was a strange man, but his wife, named Elizabeth, was an angel, who looked after the young couple with as much care as she did her own child, a lanky, sickly-looking boy named after his father.

As for their wedding, there was not much to be said: there was the priest, the bride, the groom, and two witnesses, namely Elizabeth Shelby and her husband, who signed the paper with a disgruntled look on his face. It wasn't much of a party, but then again it didn't need to be, as Lucy and Jeremiah didn't have the means to provide one. The bride had a bouquet of wildflowers, and a simple everyday dress, but her groom was so in love it didn't matter. To Jeremiah, she was an angel, something from high heavens.

"... I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Jesus, you may kiss your bride" the pastor announced, causing both Jeremiah and Lucy to smile at each other, before chastly kissing to the sound of Elizabeth Shelby's subdued clapping, echoing off the walls of the empty church.

"Congratulations, I wish you nothing but happiness, truly" Elizabeth wished, hugging Lucy tightly and patting Jeremiah's shoulder. As for her husband, he was already outside, smoking a cigarette and probably trying to make a pass at any woman who passed by. "Now would be the time to leave your bouquet at the altar and make a wish. I'll wait outside"

"Oh, I forgot" Lucy let out, turning to the altar and trying to think of a wish. "You have anything you want to wish for?" she asked Jeremiah, who in all honesty, was just happy to be alive and married to the girl he loved.

"Not really, I'll leave the wish to you" he replied, accompanying her back to the altar, where a figure of Jesus Christ on the cross looked over them.

"Well, I wish for..." she started, a sweet smile on her features. "I wish for a happy and healthy baby. And since my husband doesn't want to make his own wish, I'll take his and ask for some te ability to carry my child safely"

"That's a good wish" Jeremiah replied, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Both of them are, really. Can't wait to have a little one with you"

"Me either. You reckon it will take long to... should we be talking about this in church, though?" Lucy laughed, putting down the simply bouquet of flowers and taking Jeremiah's hand as they exited the temple. "I feel bad now, for talking about baby-making at church"

"God doesn't care, don't worry" Jeremiah assured, as they walked over to the Shelbies, who were waiting for them. "Can't wait, though"

In the end, it did take a fair bit for a baby to make its appearance in their life. Elizabeth Shelby had four children by the time Lucy Jesus managed to carry a pregnancy to term. Her disappointments had taken its toll on the girl, who became more and more fragile as time went by. Her coughing became constant, and her body slowly started giving in. However, Lucy had gathered every bit of strength she had, and, in 1905, Isaiah was born. He was healthy, beautiful, and strong, much stronger than his mother. In due time, the little boy had to say goodbye to his father, who departed for war, and then, to his mother, who couldn't survive another miscarriage. Elizabeth Shelby and Polly Gray, her sister-in-law, raised the Jesus boy, who grew up playing with the Shelby boys, and who would, in time, become one of them.

The second part of this (focused on Isaiah) is on AO3

[thescorpioracesfestival]

Week 1 - Challenges 1-3 (Kind Of)

@sailingthroughemotion - Jen and Realist This story is continued from the 2018 festival. Check out the #tsrf2018 tag on my blog, if you’re curious (but it’s not necessary).

Huo and I have been busy. And, no, not in that way. Although maybe not without that, but we’ve hardly got enough time to even put a second thought into that because our schedules are constantly jam-packed. 

Our winter was spent mostly coasting - my parents had left me a healthy amount of money which Huo and I split into improving his house a bit to accommodate for aging Jax, who was starting to get a bit fed up with the boarding life, and fixing up my motorcycle. It was enough to pay for electricity for a good while, so I opted for taking shorter shifts at the butcher’s so I could work more on the house and with Realist. He doesn’t get to sit after the race season like he had the year prior - any signs of previous injuries are nothing but distant memories, so I continued to work with him. He’s a young, healthy stallion - he could use the muscle and the brain food. After Huo’s final reconciliation with Blue, he has seemed to have gotten over his aversion to capaill, and after we put the finishing touches on Jax’s backyard resort, he even opted for using Realist as his “ranch” horse. It’s quite a sight to behold, really - a pint-sized capall under a slightly archaic Western saddle with a slightly too-tall Thisby islander settled onto him. I am quite relieved that Realist doesn’t throw a fit about the different saddle or the new rider. Huo does ride differently - he doesn’t play around and debate with Realist like I do, but rather just works with him straight on. It’s a functioning system and sometimes I find myself quite fond of how supple Realist is under a tom-thumb bit. Our spring was spent in a similar fashion, except Realist had become virtually Huo’s horse, and when I wasn’t at the shop or tuning the motorcycle, I was tending to Jax’s arthritic needs. During my brother’s visit, he acquired himself a horse with a distant capall lineage that was suitable for export and agreed to start working our family’s Thoroughbred farm again. Business was rolling in for them again, I guess, so I was welcome to the funds some more, meaning I could get some nicer riding gear and have enough to pay for the insane import prices on some of the supplements Jax desperately needed. Jax is a sweet old man - it’s easy to see how he and Huo have been coworkers for so long, and evening now and again I layer on a few extra blankets under my English saddle and take him for a spin around the pasture. He’s stiff and he doesn’t have the same dangerous energy that a capall does, but he’s still a pleasure to mess around with. Huo, too, hasn’t been empty-handed. When he’s not steering Realist through his sheep, he’s working on his truck, and if the truck is up and running, he’s coursing to Skarmouth and back to sell his wool and some of his lambs. I can definitely say that it’s been nice. We have a comfortable routine, and although sometimes it gets a bit monotonous, it’s at the very least a rhythm rather than chaos. I happen to be one of the few people on Thisby that can say that they have nothing to fear - the whole island may want me dead (it’s been proven every single time I’ve tried to step foot around the races), but as long as I am just living along with this hunk of grass and rock, topped with a generous amount of sand, I can most certainly say that I haven’t got a single thing to complain about. — My knuckles ache from writing with a piece of chalk all evening and I’ve lost count of how many names I’ve written down. A few of the men and women that recognize me ask me if I’m planning on taking another year off while a few of the boys and girls that don’t, look at my scars and ask me if I’ve ever ridden. I recount my evening to Huo as we lay sprawled on the bed, half-reading forgotten letters. Huo is unusually quiet. “I don’t think I’m going to waste my time this year,” I continue anyway, scoffing. “That stupid race has nearly cost me my life twice now and for what? Spare change?” More silence. And then, “I ran Realist this morning.” I can already tell where this one is going and I’m ready to roll my eyes when what he says next catches me completely off-guard. “Some passing couple recognized him.” “From what?” I furrowed my brow. It wasn’t uncommon to see capaill surface and disappear and surface again. I mostly hoped that it was from the races - I wouldn’t want somebody making claims about a horse they lost some number of years ago. “From when you trained Kaitlyn,” he said it so coldly that my heart almost jumped to my throat. I had never told him about Kaitlyn. I only turned back after crossing the finish line with the excuse that she had been ‘just someone I thought I recognized’; I only went ot her funeral under the guise of it having been a surprise shift at the butcher’s and that had been a public service, as most race-casualty services often were, so I didn’t recognize any of the people there. My hear began to beat loudly against my ribcage. “H-her parents?” I stammered. Huo gave me the barest of nods. “How did the find out?” My voice suddenly sounded small, timid. “Her diary,” Huo said with a dry laugh. “I’m sorry I kept it from you, Huo, I-” my breathing began to hitch in my throat - to live under one roof with a man and not tell him about the possibility of a horribly miscalculated risk… “That’s not what I’m…” he exhaled through his nose and tried again. “That’s not the issue. They want an explanation. They want some kind of compensation.” “They’re trying to frame me for murder,” I said out-loud what I knew I never shoudl have. “Thisby laws protect capall owners, but they don’t protect trainers,” Huo continued. “No, hold on - do they think that I forced her to catch that thing?” I sat up, wild-eyed. “That’s not the point, Jen, you can’t just run head-first at this, listen to me,” he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “You signed the entry form for her, didn’t you?” “Yes, but I-” “Her parents didn’t even know she was racing, Jen!” Huo’s voice was so thoroughly steeped with disappointment that I just wanted to fall through the floor then and there. “But she told me…” my eyes began to fill with tears of frustration. The cognitive dissonance between grieving for Kaitlyn’s death and wanting to blame her for what was slowly registering as the end of the world was tearing me apart. “She kept talking about her brother, and…” “She was an only child,” Huo’s voice softened a bit and he finally sat up and gathered me into his arms. For the first time in a while, he smelled of horse sweat. He really did run Realist. “She lied to you, she lief to her parents, she lied to everyone.” I began to sob like a small child. Not the usual polite, bottled anguish I would usually put myself through to make sure I was silent, but instead helpless, uncontrollable wailing. I was both terrified and awashed with a new wave of grief. Not for the blonde-haired girl with the determined eyes but for the big-withered raven black mare that had the heart to die for her. I thought of Realist and how he longed only for my company and not the lulls of the ocean. I thought of Jax and how many years he’s served and how little he probably has left. And Huo held me, and he let me cry, and let me cling to him like I was not his strong, equally grounded girlfriend, but like I was sickly, toddler-aged granddaughter. Once I felt like I could breathe again I got myself a glass of water and Huo and I stood like coast-worn statues in the darkness of the kitchen. “How much do they want as compensation?” I managed, trying not to hide my disgust at the fact at calling monetary value ‘compensation’ for a human life. “Some… twenty thousand, thirty?” he scratched the back of his head. “Good lord,” I smiled, although I didn’t know why. “And if we - if I don’t pay it back…?” This was my problem, not Huo’s, if I hadn’t thought to tell him of this earlier, why should I have to drag him into it now? “They’re taking it to the mainland court. They family’s not from Thisby.” “Fucking Christ!” I exclaimed, feeling the animalistic urge to shatter the cup I was holding but somewhere deep inside, my sensible, grounded, equestrian self pulled back on the reins. — The road to Skarmouth that night felt like the road to purgatory. Most lights were off or dimmed, only the caterwaul of distant capaill and the perpetual crashing of waves gracing the stillness. I unlocked the back of the butcher’s and carefully snuck my way behind the counter desipte knowing that I was the only one there. I felt a deep need for secrecy, for if anyone found out the real reason I was actually putting my life on the line in these island games again, I’d die of shame alone - to hell with sea monsters and cliffs. I took the chalk in my still-aching hand and added an extra line: “Jen - Realist”. And just for good luck, I threw some coins into the betting jar with my name on it that I had kept from last year, just for good luck. The coins hit the bare glass walls with a hollow, resounding clatter. I needed all the good luck I could get this year.

[schizo-spoon-blog]

Spoonbender Society: Selected Schizoepistles

FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE:

We Live In A Society

People say we live in a democracy/democratic republic, a form of government intended to amplify what people think and address problems they find to be important. But it doesn’t ever seem to function that way.

The issue is in voter suppression, but as always not in the way people generally think voter suppression works. The issue is psychic, spiritual, and social suppression of citizens. Systemic over-development of senses of rationalization, neuroticism and anxiety, industrially incentivized narcissism.

People develop a deathly fear of what others think, or may think, or what they may have thought about them or what they think, what they may think, or what they may have thought.

A democracy where we’d rather not hear what other people have to say, because we find their thoughts offensive and retarded. That’s one thing people are happy to share. But because we suspect that there are so many offensive retards in the world, we fear... "Perhaps I’m a retard too?" You wonder that even for just a second in your life, if you have a soul. It’s OK to be a retard really, but you’ll never believe that it’s OK, and that's probably What Your Fucking Problem Is.

The opinions of us purported non-retards, to avoid sounding like complete retards, end up soft, ambivalent and stale, phrased like True Neutral Orgasm in Ego-Death Nirvana, but less Chad, less gratifying, and nobody cums. To not be reminded of the possibility of our own retardation, we like to pretend that if the retards just shut up and nobody can hear them, they go away. If they are Physically Removed from our presence, their evil thoughts and their malicious intentions will go away with them. We win. But they don’t. They never do.

We always fail to Psychically Remove them. We lose.

We can hypothesize a law of conservation of hatred, correlate one too of love, but the truth is banal. How can it be in light of our timeline? Why are these Hate Groups all over the place? Hitler’s corpse is rotting or burned to a crisp, or embalmed in a tomb or made a toilet for Some Rich Dude ((parenthetical removed)). (Or was he cloned?)

Great Fatherland Germany - defeated by the "untermensch" and partitioned like a cheese between rats. That Great "Faustian" and "Supreme" "Aryan" Race is subjugated by the hated "Juden" and all the "vermin" of the world, humiliated, castrated to be reunited a shadow of its former self. Yet the Nazi threat is omnipresent nearly a century later, in an era which may be an alien planet to those who lived in Hitler’s time.

How is it that the Great Allies, our fathers and grandfathers, achieved such total victory over so loathsome a foe, so unsympathetic and vile, only to see his Evil infect their own countrymen and posterity? How can something so thoroughly defeated still persist in what could be our neighbors or our co-workers our bosses or our employees? Each one could be a secret Nazi now. In parenting blogs moms worry that their children are becoming Nazis from goofy men they see in videos on line. Marriages are ending in divorce because the husband or wife is allegedly or apparently a Nazi. How could this happen?

Have you ever seen “The Matrix? Who hasn’t? You know all about the red and blue pills, and all the rainbow-flag DLC that it comes with, black and pink and green and brown and in configurations invisible to the human eye, I’m sure. If you don't know, the pills are portals to different realities. Take the black pill and you only see death, take the white pill and everything’s alright, take the blue pill you vote for Hillary, take the pink you become genderqueer. But this is not about taking any pills. This is about going off your meds. Going straight edge - except for whiskey, cigarettes, cocaine and pussy. It’s about the spoon - no, not for shooting up. It's for bending - with your mind. Remember? That spoon - The Spoon That Isn’t There.

That spoon is a Nazi.

If you are aware that there is no spoon you can tie it into knots. You can make it into a balloon animal. That Nazi Spoon could be a Jewish Socialist from Vermont, or a kosher Brooklyn Zionist, or a Dominican Taxi Driver. It could be an evil copy of your own son from Bizzaro World. It's probably your uncle. It could be Rottweilers, and Chihuahuas. Whether Pitbulls are Nazis or Jews/Blacks is an ongoing debate in the contemporary discourse.

But imaginary shit can be whatever the hell you want. You don’t have to be "The One" to Bend the Spoon. You don’t have to be anyone at all. What was the name of the kid who said the line about the spoon again? Nobody knows, nobody cares, and that's the beauty of Spoonbending.

"The Nazi" is the guy who keeps talking when he should shut up. He might be autistic, but he could just be an asshole. There is a strong possibility he could be both. Why does he keep saying all of this ridiculous stuff? He’s more offensive and more retarded than the usual, but it feels like He Has To Be This Way. Like it’s his curse, He Knows Too Much. He fell down some rabbit hole and ended up gorged on Fascist Propaganda. He mentions some girl named Celine. He rambles on about some guy you’re pretty sure is a Tekken character... the guy who turns into the Devil maybe. He mentions a vacation in Turkey with his family but insists on saying Constantinople and there’s a wild-man tear in his eye. He insists he knows about Atlantis and calls you gay for saying you liked Aquaman. Instead of saying goodbye he says “Subscribe to Pewdiepie.” The Nazi belongs in an institution. You wonder if he has guns and if maybe he should have them taken for a while. He probably doesn’t, but you can’t be sure. He’s 12.

When is it too early to become a school shooter? Is 12 too early to be an incel?

12 is probably the age at which incels hatch from their human hosts.

“Who is Pewdiepie, and how has he groomed my nephew into the Hitler Youth?” many families today are asking. They think they’re looking at a spoon. Conditoning fills your heart with a desperate desire to see the spoon. A fact, pure fact, logical, reasonable, peer reviewed, widely accepted, So True, a Textbook Fact. The spoon. Everyone else sees it too. That goddamn Nazi Spoon.

You ever try to ask this at a party as an ice-breaker and see how the guests react?

“So, anyway, was The Holocaust Real?”

“Excuse me, what?”

“What do you think, was it real, how many people do you think died, don’t the gas chambers sound goofy to you?”

”Um… no… they don’t sound goofy. What are you talking about?”

“You ever hear about the Nazi Roller-coaster they had at one of the camps? They’d put Jews into a roller-coaster except they’d fly off the edge and get splattered. That’s how the Nazis killed ‘em. I swear. I read it in a book by a Holocaust Survivor. Impossible to believe if it weren’t so True. No shit. You hear about that?”

”I’m… gonna get another beer.”

Of course there’s a Correct answer to that initial question. It’s also the Right answer. Who would ever get this wrong? It's the 2+2=X of History. Well…

Pop-Quiz, Random Nazi Check, Anybody here Hate Jews? You a Groyper, Son? What’s so funny? You think the Cookie Monster committing genocide is a laughing matter boy? We don’t take kindly to your kind around here.

Maybe you should give the Nazi-check thing a try, it’ll separate sheep and goat real easy for you.

If you do this everyone will think you are The Nazi.

The Nazis hated Jews, but did they hate real Jews as Jews exist, or did they hate the Fascist Propaganda Jew who was a work of fiction? On that note, were you in love with your last failed relationship, or just pretending you were? Have you ever had one impression of a person, but then learned they were another kind of person entirely? That first impression you had, the one that wasn’t True, was that a Real Person, or Imaginary? But you still spent all that money and sweat on an imaginary girl, huh?

Hope her hole was real.

I think that fake bitch of an ex you dated was a nazi. Your ex was a fascist. Oh, was she Jewish? It doesn’t matter, changes nothing. I’ve never met her - wouldn't matter if I did. When I imagine her, she's in Hugo Boss black and got skull-and-bones on her officer's cap, and she's saying racial slurs as she ruins your life, cheats on you, drains your bank account and kills your dog after getting custody over it in court. I imagine all bad people this way. All women who rejected me were exactly like this.

But I must breach working-class anti-fascist solidarity, and admit, on That Question ("Would you?").... Yeah, I would. Sorry bro. Take me away Comrades, I admit it, I'd give it to that Nazi Jew raw. Would I do that to her as she exists, or the Fascist Propaganda her who is a work of fiction?

That depends. You still got her number?

haha it's ok you can call me an incel, it's a step up from what i actually am

(User was banned for this post.)

The Nazi and the Fascist aren’t my hallucinations. That’s not my mental illness. But it’s adjacent to me, it’s thrown at me without my Consent, and it's a Trigger. I'm paranoid about commies myself.

In the multicultural cyberpunk year of 2019, with its trans-human gender-sex-orientations, anti-racist ethno-narcissism, fanatic anti-normalism, cultish critical theory intersections, grand byzantine minimalism, placidity, in such splendid predatory banality… In the absolute state of the world! – Aah! An undead ideology conceived by a salty Frenchman in the badlands of South Dakota in the 1890s shambles forth the devour all that is Good and Holy in the Great United States of AmeriKKKa, God Help Us All! And A Child Will Lead Those Dreadful Legions of Corruption Upon All The Meek Of Our Fallen World!

Or it’s just a spoon that isn’t real.

Nobody wants to be straight-forward, and I gotta navigate the labyrinths of euphemism. Maybe there's something weird going on - how people talk, how people act, how people think, none of those correlate to each other. It makes you feel schizo when you do all your mental rain-man calculus and realize there's a fucking Elephant in the living room and he's not wearing any goddamn pants. Once that little ray-of-sunshine blesses your tiny bug-man brain to enlighten you that the elephant is real, and the spoon isn't, it's only a matter of time before you're crowned in tinfoil a Potato King on your off-grid Bug-out estate in the Idaho Panhandle, or start drinking yourself to death and bullying mailmen (or both).

If you'd like to avoid that sort of Elephant-Mania Spoon-denialism, maybe you should try answering Uncomfortable Question instead of being so Weird about it, oh wise Mr. Kirk, Mr. Shapiro, Mr. Talking-Head, Mr. Important-Guy, Mr. Movement, Mr. Politics, Mr. Voice of Reason, Mr. Metatron. Take it from a schizo-maniac with a manifesto, you’re freaking out the hoes.

Try Praeger U talking points out on a Tinder date and watch her shrivel up from instathot to instahag -- she will go through menopause before your very eyes, that's how dry her pussy will get. Trying not to sound racist while talking about the Antarctic Nazi base and the importance of craniometry in ethnocultural anthropology will get you more action than anything that sounds like a paraphrase of Charlie Kirk -- because even if you're still being cringe at least you aren't being fake. Point and laugh at that fucking elephant - the moron isn't even wearing pants! That'll get her thinking about taking your pants off. Or not - it's not foolproof. If she doesn't laugh, red-flag, she's a Nazi so Begone Thot!

Please, for the love of God, go off-script! See the damn elephant and forget the spoon, and forget the wise Mr. Kirk, Mr. Shapiro, Mr. Talking-Head, Mr. Important-Guy, Mr. Movement, Mr. Politics, Mr. Voice of Reason, Mr. Metatron. Take it from a schizo-maniac with a manifesto, you'll go insane if you don't.

[. . . ] [T]hen there's that neuroticism, that narcissism, that fear. The whole point of these politics groups and gatherings and Q&As is what, anyway? Is it really just basic marketing tactics, like a live-action advertisement you expect for people to passively consume as though it is persuasive? To shove free-markets and free-speeches down my throat and have me swallow it without having anything that’s been bothering me answered? What do I look like to you, an Ideology Whore? You don't even reciprocate a good time, huh? I'm not that kind of girl. You didn't even buy me dinner. You made me pay to bore me. I'd cuck you if we dated just to make a very important point -- fully aware it'll go over your head. Fuck you.

We gotta hear The Script. We gotta recite The Script.

Real Conservatives Think Like This. Real Progressives Think Like This. White People Walk Like This. Black People Walk Like This.

Gotta hear that joke ten thousand times so you can recite it like a mantra in your sleep.

Free markets mean free people. Facts don’t care about your feelings. Private Companies can do what they wish. What you do in your bedroom is your own business. We want legal immigration, not illegal.

Abolish ICE. Your childhood hero says Trans-Rights. Do you not want me in the movement? Abolish whiteness.

The Racism of Lowered Expectations.

Reparations.

A white nation.

Workers of the world unite!

Abortion is a human right.

Have you got it memorized?

Let’s go over it a few more times.

Say it with me! Hillary was found innocent in a hundred hearings and it is sexist to besmirch her reputation.

Repeat after me! Trump’s economy is the best in history, and if he's racist why is black unemployment is at historical lows.

You benefit from unearned privilege. You suffer from toxic masculinity.

The world is about to end and everything you know and love will die, and it is your fault, for not believing in the correct things at the correct time.

Are you laughing yet?

I’m dying. I feel like an e-girl, and my orbiters are sides.

But do you wanna know what I really think? The whole bit about psychic and social suppression? You ever hear about the Procrustean bed? Well, what if we put your political, social, moral consciousness and your psychic abilitys into a bed like that. We could talk about it. You ever play Xenogears?

Or you could just put me in a box. I really wouldn't mind. I'm Houdini. Hey, was Houdini a Nazi, like Henry Ford? Can we get a fact-check? I didn't mean to be problematic.

Break the Conditoning - Step outside the box, and use it as a step ladder. Ascend, Beyond the Box - use The Spoon.

Bush did 9/11, the Israeli’s danced, the Aliens killed JFK - sure - but I only say this because of my MK Ultra Schizo-brain. It’s true, it’s false, it’s fact, it’s myth, I don’t have to believe any of it -- I also don't have to believe any of you if I don’t want to. My feelings do not care about your facts, and did you know that some of the world's most uncomfortable facts are manifested into being by uncomfortable feelings? Is it the fact of the bullet that kills the political dissident, or the feelings of his executioner? Is it the deranged lust of the rapist that violates his victim, or the fact of his power to do so? I guess it depends on whether the perpetrator said "nothing personnel kid" before he committed the act. I don't know about that Nazi Rapist's feelings, but MY feelings are valid and I can believe or disbelieve whatever I want on the basis of my feelings, and my feelings alone. My feelings bend the spoon of your facts.

Are you going to say I don’t have the right, Adolf? Sucks for you, bud, I may be a commie by blood, but the heart that pumps it was assembled in the ole USA -- and we got the Right to be a Retard here in America. It's a Free Country.

[Note: please insert image of Jonathan Frakes from Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction]

Now that the dust has settled: Was the Nazi Roller-Coaster Real? Or did we put the Truth in a Mass-Grave? We will let you know at the conclusion of our program.

Sincerely and Full of Suffering Your Friend Always, Orcbrand

[melodiouswhite]

Classic literature vine compilation: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, pt. 02

A/N: Here is the second part of the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde vine compilation! :D

Lady Summers: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of the items you have lost throughout your life.

Utterson: It WOULD be nice to get my sense of purpose back.

Lanyon: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this.

Poole: I knew I lost that potential somewhere!

Jekyll: My will to live! I haven’t seen this in years!

Hyde: Mental stability, my old friend!

Lady Summers: Gentlemen, could you lighten up a little?

Jekyll, singing: This is the day, see it sparkle and shine-

Jekyll, singing: When all I've lived for, becomes mine!

Hyde: Lol, nope.

Lady Summers: Look at your glasses, gentlemen. Do you think, that they're half full or half empty?

Utterson: Half full.

Jekyll: Half empty.

Hyde: You haven't even touched it yet!

Lanyon: It's a glass of champagne.

Lady Summers: Well, I see a glass that's half full and half empty.

Lady Summers: And I think, that I should drink my champagne already.

Board of Govenors: Get murdered by Hyde one by one.

The whole city: OMG, SOME HYPOCRITICAL SICKOS GOT MURDERED HOW TERRIBLE!!! EVERYONE PANIC!!!

Me: Oh for fuck's sake, it's 1880s London, people get murdered every fucking hour!

Lady Summers: Being a telepath has its downsides.

Hyde: Like?

Lady Summers: You know, how I can control, when I look into other people's minds, but keep hearing their thoughts all the time, as if they were talking out loud?

Hyde: Uh, yeah?

Lady Summers:  Well, sometimes I hear things that literally no one wants to hear.

Hyde: Is that why you're so grumpy right now?

Lady Summers: You'd be grumpy too, if you had to listen to someone thinking about bedding their own mother.

Hyde: …

Lady Summers: Dammit, me and my big mouth.

Hyde: What? I don't have a mother.

Lady Summers: No, but hearing you think about your physical exploits with Dr. Jekyll isn't much better.

Lady Summers: I like to believe that I'm a tolerant, open-minded person.

Lady Summers: I'm very nice.

Lanyon: You punched a baron in the face and gave him a black eye, Milady.

Lady Summers: That twit made fun of your beautiful eyes. He clearly asked for it.

Lanyon: …  O///O

Lady Summers: I used to believe as a child, that insane asylums were places, where insane people were cured.

Lady Summers: *scowls* But then I realised that they're just suburbs of hell, where the patients are treated like criminals at best and animals at worst.

Jekyll: What happened?

Lady Summers: I saw one.

Lady Summers, a German noblewoman living in England in the 1880s: Since the relationship between Britain and Germany is beginning to get complicated, people keep asking me, where my loyalties lie.

Lady Summers: They lie with my home country.

Lady Summers: And it's not Germany.

Lady Summers: Doctor Jekyll, what are you doing?

Jekyll: Monologuing.

Lady Summers: …

Lady Summers: Doctor, that's not how you confront the person who ruined your life.

Lady Summers: And I'm not referring to Mr. Hyde here.

Jekyll: …

Jekyll: Is this … chamomile tea?!

Lady Summers: Yes. Now stop sulking, chamomile tea is healthy for your digestion.

Jekyll: I know that! I'm a doctor, Milady!

Lady Summers: Why are you not drinking, then?

Jekyll: Chamomile tea is disgusting!

Lady Summers: …

Lady Summers: I swear, I'm talking to a five-year-old.

Lady Summers: I try to be as British as possible.

*something is out of place*

Lady Summers: WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT MOVING THE FURNITURE IN MY HOUSE??? AND WHERE ARE MY FOUNTAIN PENS?!?!

The butler: She's trying.

Jekyll, Utterson & Lanyon: …

Jekyll, singing: The world has gone insane!

Hyde: Nah, sweetheart, it's just you.

Hyde: I'm very generous! What about that one time I gave blood?

Utterson, suspiciously: Whose blood?

Hyde: *shrugs* Some guy's. 

Jekyll: I've had about enough of your sarcasm.

Hyde: Just about? So you could have some more, if you wanted through it.

Jekyll: That's exactly what I'm talking about.

Lady Summers: I, uh, I stayed up way too late.

Lanyon: Why don't you stay awake all day and then go to bed, like, at nine tonight.

Lady Summers: That's a risky fucking move.

Lanyon: Do it anyway.

Lady Summers: I'm gonna do it anyway.

Jekyll: Hastie, why am I so ugly?

Lanyon: You're not. Literally every single person you know has told you that you're good-looking.

Jekyll: Yeah, but they're just saying that, because they feel bad for me.

Lanyon: Feel bad for you?! No, no.

Lanyon: Well, most of us find you bloody annoying.

Hyde, holding a mouth harp: You play it, you get a hundred million pounds. But a hundred million people will die.

Hyde: *plays the mouth harp*

Utterson: EDWARD, NO!!! 

Hyde: Henry, I don't want to continue torturing you.

Jekyll: *sighs* Yes, you do.

Hyde: YES! YES I DO!!! >:D

Hyde: Your honour, I'm not trying to bribe you, but would you like this other half of this cosmic brownie?

Utterson: Dear god! *_*

Utterson: THIS MAN GOES FREE!

Utterson: Would you rather fight a bunch of kindergartners-

Hyde: I wanna fight kindergartners!

Utterson: That's not even the whole-

Hyde: THOSE KIDS ARE GETTING SLAPPED! 

Hyde: Well, I'm not gonna tell you anything!

Lady Summers: Is that so? Well, I suppose I'll keep this delicious nougat to myself.

Utterson: Mr. Hyde, now that I have you strapped to this chair, you will come.

Hyde: Now, that's what I call bondage!

Utterson: If it pleases the court, I might read a direct quote.

Judge: I'll allow it.

Utterson: *reads out loud* "I'm literally crying."

Hyde: I WAS NOT!!!

Utterson: YOU WERE!!!

Jekyll: Are you ticklish?

Hyde, thinking: Oh god, I don't wanna say yes, because I then get tickled, but if I say no, he might get suspicious and then tickle me anyway, so I don't know-

Jekyll: Where's the entire box of cookies that I just bought.

Hyde: That's almost an accusatory tone-

Hyde: -but there is none. Yeah, I ate the whole box, because I have no self-control.

Utterson: Do you wanna take our relationship to the next level?

Jekyll: Yes, but I have to warn you: I'm a bitch in the boardroom AND A MONSTER IN THE BEDROOM!!!

Simon Stride: Hey, Lisa, wanna marry me?

Lisa Carew: I SAID NO FIVE TIMES, GET A CLUE!!!

Simon Stride, holding a game of clue: Hey, Lisa-

Lisa Carew: GODDAMMIT!!! 

Jekyll: Do you ever lay down, and then you start to cry for a bit and you don't know why?

Jekyll: Can you file this?

Hyde: Oh yeah, just gimme a sec, 'cuz I'm in the middle of this huge existential crisis right now and it's almost time for my daily breakdown, so … 

Jekyll: I was wondering, if you wanna go out?

Lanyon: Yeah. *opens the door*

Jekyll: Where are you going?

Lanyon: Out. The farther away from you, the better.

Priest: Where's the holy water?

Hyde: *innocuously sipping from a cup*

Jekyll: So many women and men like me, it's, like, really annoying.

Hyde: … *inhales*

Hyde: NNNNAAAHH- 

Lanyon: Alright, if you were a flower, what would you be?

Lady Summers: I'd be a little-mist-camellia, because nobody knows I exist.

Lanyon: Very educated!

Lanyon: Oh cool, a mood ring! What does blue mean?

Hyde: It means "don't talk to me".

Lanyon: What does purple mean?

Hyde: Also "don't talk to me".

Lanyon: What does green mean?

Hyde: *holds up middle finger* Did you notice the finger it's on?

Lanyon, when meeting Lady Summers for the second time: Hey, I know you!

Lady Summers: You don't know me. I don't even know me.

Lanyon: Nice to see you again!

Lanyon: Listen, Milady, if you don't change your attitude, I'll have to talk to your husband.

Lady Summers: …

Lanyon: … Wait.

Lady Summers, a widow: If you figure out, how to talk to my husband, please let me know.

Lanyon: Alright, Milady, if you were an animal, what would you be?

Lady Summers: I'd be a black sheep.

Lanyon: Okay, very expressive!

Lanyon: Okay, if you were a fruit, what would you be?

Lady Summers: I'd be a tomato, because no one accepts me as part of the group.

Lanyon: … Very creative!

Lanyon: Alright, if you were an office supply, what would you be?

Lady Summers: I'd be paper, because everyone uses me and then throws me away.

Lanyon: … Very descriptive!

Lanyon: Milady, if you were a sweet, what would you be and why?

Lady Summers: I'd be black liquorice, because nobody likes me.

Lanyon: I'm sure, someone does!

Lanyon: In fact, I do!

Jekyll: Bye! Have a good day!

Lanyon: Have a great day!

Jekyll: Have an amazing day!

Lanyon: Have an incredible day!

Jekyll: HAVE A MAGICAL BLOOMING DAY, YOU SON OF A- 

Lanyon: If you were a spirit animal, what would it be?

Lady Summers: I'd be a unicorn, because nobody believes in me.

Lanyon: Very imaginative!

Jekyll: It was nice to meet you.

Lanyon: It was great to meet you.

Jekyll: It was wonderful to meet you.

Lanyon: It was fantastic to meet you.

Jekyll: IT WAS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, LITTLE BUGGER-

Lady Summers in public, singing: I wanna be where the people aren't. -_-

Lady Summers: *ominously* No one will ever find your body-

Lady Summers: *cheerfully* -as attractive as I do! Let's grab dinner!

Lanyon: O///O

Lady Summers: Oh my god, is it really that late? I should go outside!

Lady Summers: *opens the front door and looks out*

Lady Summers: That's enough.

Hyde to Utterson:  I love waking up next to you, babe.

Hyde: But I fell asleep on the left side and woke up on the right-

Hyde: *grabs a knife* -SO WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GO LAST NIGHT?!

Jekyll: Hey, what are you doing tonight?

Utterson: More like, who am I doing, amirite?

Jekyll: …

Utterson: …

Jekyll: …

Utterson: … I'm not doing anything, what's up?

Utterson: When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Hyde: Well, unless they give you water and sugar, your lemonade is gonna be pretty sucky.

Utterson: …

Utterson: This elusive creature has been dwelling in this room for the last three days and-

*Hyde comes dashing out of the lab*

Utterson: OH MY GOD, THERE IS IT, IT GRABS SOME FOOD-

*Hyde retreats back into the lab*

Utterson: -aaand it's gone.

Utterson: Story time! Into the bag he snuck, looking for treasure!

Hyde: *runs away giggling*

Poole: He's looking for my sweets. :)

Utterson: Oh, but his plans were foiled! XD

Lanyon: *ominously* I'm gonna chop you up-

Lanyon: *cheerfully* -SOOOME FRESH VEGETABLES TO HELP MAINTAIN YOUR KILLER SHAPE! *starts cutting vegetables*

Lady Summers: *thinking* Cute.

Lady Summers: *ominously* Your days are numbered-

Lady Summers: *cheerfully* -WIIITH THIS FRIENDSHIP CALENDER TO MARK YOUR FUTURE SUCCESSES! *laughs*

Lanyon: *laughs*

Lanyon: *ominously* You're just one Claude-

Lanyon: *cheerfully* MOOONET PAINTING, BECAUSE YOU'RE A WORK OF ART! THAT SPARKLES! :D

Lady Summers: v///v

Lady Summers: *ominously* Drop-dead-

Lady Summers: *cheerfully* GOOOORGEOUS, that's what I'd call you with or without this blush! :D

Lanyon: O///O

Lanyon: *ominously* I want you to get lost-

Lanyon: *cheerfully* -IIIIIN MY EYES AS I GET LOST IN YOURS!

Lady Summers: Alright! :D

Lady Summers: *ominously* We should break up-

Lady Summers: *cheerfully* -YOUR BUSY SCHEDULE FOR SOME WELL-DESERVED SNUGGLE TIME AND CUDDLES! :D

Lanyon: Aww! :3

Hyde: Story time! There they were! And they were beautiful! As soon as they were seen, hearts swelled!

Poole: 'Cause I have your food? XD

Hyde: YEEEEE- :D

Lanyon: *ominously* You're so stupid-

Lanyon: *cheerfully* -LYYYY TALENTED! YOU DELICATE, BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY!

Lady Summers: ^///^

Hyde: What's it like, being tall?

Jekyll: I'll show you. *lifts him up*

Hyde: So beautiful. *_*

Utterson: Story time! He had no clue he was about to run into a BRIDGE!!!

Hyde: *startles*

Utterson: -That was nowhere near! XD

Hyde: Why the frick would you say that?!

Lanyon: Story time! NO MATTER HOW FAST HE RAN, HE COULD NOT ESCAPE THE DEMON! BUT HE WOULD NOT LET HIS SOUL BE TAKEN TODAY! XD

Jekyll: *throws his arms up* AHHHHHHH!!! XD

Lady Summers: Story time! On this blessed day, these two proclaimed their love!

Jekyll: AWWWWW, BABE! :D *tackles Utterson*

Utterson: *hugs back*

Jekyll & Utterson: *tumble in the snow*

Lady Summers: Oh shoot, are you okay?! XD

Lanyon: Story time! He'd been waiting his whole life for someone to sweep him off his feet! ;)

Jekyll: *sweeps Utterson off his feet* :D

Utterson: WHOA! :D

Jekyll, singing and twirling around with Utterson in his arms: AND CAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIGHT- :D

Hyde: You think you're tough?

Lady Summers: Oh yeah!

Lady Summers: *brushes her teeth*

Hyde: -_-

Lady Summers: *whips out a bottle of orange juice*

Hyde: No!

Lady Summers: *drinks the orange juice* >:D

Hyde: *runs away screaming*

Utterson: THIEF! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST FOREVER!!!

Jekyll: WAIT, NO, WHAT DID I STEAL?!

Utterson: My heart. >///<

Jekyll: O///O

Poole: Story time! In every group of friends, there's the dumb one.

Utterson, Lanyon & Lady Summers: *point at Jekyll*

Jekyll: Really?! -_-

The others: *laugh*

Utterson: Hey Hyde, we got some ice cream out here!

Hyde: *comes out of the lab* ICE CREAM!!!

Poole: *knocks him out with a frying pan*

Utterson: … I'm shocked this always works.

Poole: I know, let's get the notes.

Hyde: I keep telling you, man, you gotta stop letting people walk all over you!

Jekyll, lying on the floor: Okay.

Hyde: What's wrong, kid?

Little girl: Nobody likes me! Q_Q

Hyde: All that matters is what's inside-

Hyde: *pulls out a gun* -your wallet.

Little girl: WHAT?!

Utterson: Oh, Miss got grief?

Lady Summers, 20 years ago: Yes, sir, my husband is dead.

Utterson: Oh, I didn't know you were married, may I congratulate!

Lady Summers: … *thinking* English people.

Lady Summers: Did you know I can read minds?

Jekyll: Really?!

Lady Summers: I'll show you.

Hyde, inside Jekyll's mind: AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Lady Summers: OH MEIN GOTT!!!

Jekyll: Yeah, I got a lot going on.

Hyde: Your honour! Permission to treat the witness as hostile!

Utterson: Permission granted!

Hyde: I'm gonna shoot you in the face!

Enfield: That'll ruin my day!

Utterson: You're being charged for murder. What do you plead?

Hyde: … I'm sorry, I was just doing this thing, where I wasn't listening, just staring at your chin. 

Poole: Sir, there's been a murder.

Jekyll: Was it you?

Poole: No!

Jekyll: Was it me?

Poole: … No?

Jekyll: *sigh of relief* Okay.

Poole: Doctor, come out, come out, wherever you are!

Jekyll: I'm gay!

Lanyon: Where are you?!

Lady Summers: I give you a hint - Japan.

Lanyon: You're taking this game of Hide and Seek way too seriously.

Utterson: Do you want some vitamins, bro?

Jekyll: No, bro.

Utterson: Why, bro?

Jekyll: Because you're the only one, who gives me strength, bro.

Utterson: Bro!

Jekyll: I'm not a cake face. I'm an ice cream cake face.

Jekyll: Under this thick cosmetic frosting is my cold interior.

Hyde: Hi, I'm the cold interior! :D

Hyde: I heard you were checking out my boyfriend?

#1 random guy: Uh, yeah?

Hyde: *gets out a knife* WELL YOU'LL NEVER SPEAK TO MY BOYFRIEND AGAIN!!! *throws knife*

#1 random guy: *dodges knife* Sir, I'm a cashier, it's my job!

Hyde: Hey!

Utterson: *jolts awake*

Hyde: *holds a gun to Utterson's head* Who are you dreaming about?

Utterson: Uh, you? O_O

Hyde: Okay. Just checking. ^_^

Lady Summers: I don't always play the victim.

Lady Summers: But when I do, it ruins other people. >:D

Lady Summers: You can make fun of me. You can make fun of my life style.

Lady Summers: But if you make fun of my family, friends or clients, I'll make sure you'll never be able to show your face in public again.

Hyde: Why are you always on your desk?

Jekyll: Why are you always on my nerves?

Hyde: True, my bad.

Jekyll: I CAN'T FIND IT!

Hyde: What are you looking for?

Jekyll: My happiness.

Hyde: Your what?

Lady Summers: How tall are you?

Jekyll: Six feet.

*reverse*

Jekyll: How tall are you, Milady?

Lady Summers: *glowers* I am 4 feet, seven inches and nine tenths tall, I will destroy you!

[pastorcowboy]

Matthew series week 19 who is the greatest Pt. 1

Matthew series: Ministry of Jesus (Who is the greatest Pt 1)

Matthew 18: Humble like children

I can see it so clearly. We look at this book of Matthew like a story and teachings. There are famous verses and famous theological points. In school they wanted me to know these points. Yet, the point of the book was ignored. It’s not like I have found some mystical answers in Matthew. I just think I see what he was driving at. This book is a warning on bad Christianity. Matthew gives us foundation and story, yet there is so much more.

In most sermons there are three points. They say that a three-point argument is a good one. Matthew uses three-fold themes all through this book. If we hear Jesus say Blessed are the pure at heart, we think “oh how profound.” Later Jesus is telling us here in Matthew 18 to come to God like little ones. The disciples wanted to know who runs heaven. Will they run heaven? I’m not so sure the disciples ever really got Jesus. A warning? Yes, we should take this book seriously. It’s profound strictly because we want to master this book. To know it’s great verses and deep theology. This book wants us to be humbled so that the message within masters us. Makes us Christian in the truest sense like little ones.

I have met so many children that grew up in church circles. Most of them would not touch church as they pasted into their adult years. Why? Was church so bad? I doubt it, but something is wrong in how we invite children to worship. I believe it’s because they watch us. They see bad Christianity. The word hypocrite is strong in these adults. Because, we have stressed certain verses? Because, we stress to be like Jesus? The stumbling block to believing is massive. We weren’t meant to be perfect, but humble before the perfect God. This chapter is nasty. I say this with a smile. Don’t just read it once. Do you highlight and proof read? Be honest with skimming. Allow yourself to come to God like a child?

Matthew 18:3 “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Proverbs 22:6 “Train children in the right way, and when old, they will not stray.”

It could be easy to get hung up on words. I truly believe that Matthew chose lofty words at times to trip people up. That sounds weird for the Bible. Does it? People have accused Jesus of using parables to trip people up. The prophets were accused of using prophesy to trip people up. What trips people? It’s making the stories so interesting that you forget the book. It’s looking for more than is there. It’s making the Bible story fit your point. In the end, you forget why your reading. You forget the message. A message that says its God’s way. It’s God’s plan. It’s not about what we should take but what God is saying.

Great themes in the Bible. Who is greatest in the Kingdom asks the disciples? Bring back one sheep. Forgive 70 times or 70 times 7. It’s important to memorize these verses. It’s important to know your Bible. There are so many famous verses. Forgive like your heavenly father. Train a child is ringing in my ears. I like memory verses. Knowing your Bible is good. Yet, we have lost something in that. They say to never take a verse out of context. I am wondering if skipping to famous verses just to memorize them does just that. In the end, we argue over how many times to forgive. We argue over saving one sheep and ignoring the 99. We argue over how to be humble before God. What verses are you stuck on?

Matthew 18:35 “So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

Isaiah 55:11 “so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”

I am a broken record. I feel Matthew repeats themes in this book because he is beating us over the head until we get it. Three-point sermons, get it. In the end, I feel Jesus is doing just that in his ministry. He keeps repeating be humble. Listen to me. Look for what God is doing. There are probably more. Yet, there it is. In his time with Jesus, I think Matthew silently got it. Christianity was never meant to rule. It was meant to change us. This book is a training manual because of that. Remember where you came from. Remember Jesus words. Remember your place among the people. Like the little ones.

Matthew 21:15-16 “But when the chief priests and the teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did and the children shouting in the temple courts, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they were indignant. 16 “Do you hear what these children are saying?” they asked him. “Yes,” replied Jesus, “have you never read, “‘From the lips of children and infants you, Lord, have called forth your praise’?”"

Psalm 8:2 “Through the praise of children and infants you have established a stronghold against your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger.” For next week read Matthew 18. Also read 1 Peter 2.

1.       The little ones. There it is in black and white. There is no messing around here. Jesus gathered the little ones and looked the disciples in the eye. Who is the greatest? Ironically, who is rejected by society: the disciples? It’s you, fishermen. It’s you, tax collectors. It’s you prostitutes and sinners. Yet, there is Jesus standing in the mist of them and not the authorities. Jesus is with naive and stupid children. Stare at this chapter. Jesus is in the middle of the ignored. What Matthew is saying is don’t ignore those you feel are the least in the kingdom.

Who is at fault at church? Who is at fault at work? Stare at this chapter again. Come to church or work like a little one. See people as people. They are not jerks or villains. They are little children lost in this world. We are called to point out sin, not to rebuke it like a baseball bat Bible. It’s to train a child in the way they should go. I got duped at church over a girl. It was a mess. The pastor rebuked me, but he gave me a book on being a Jesus man. It changed and trained me. Don’t come in authority. Come in humility because we’ve all been there. Come with compassion to train rather than rebuke. Like little ones.

Yes, the curators of the Bible thought it smart to make chapter 18 from a scroll. They put in chapters to help us read these scriptures better. The lines could move at times, yet forgiveness should be part of this theme on the little ones. The children are not mentioned, but their spirit is. Children forgive better than any adult. Children look at others through innocent eyes. It’s good and bad that we have headings and chapters. Yet, they should remind us of different ways we could be humble. Different ways we can forgive. There are also different ways we can be stumbling blocks to little ones.

Matthew 18:33” Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’"

Exodus 21:2 ““If you buy a Hebrew slave, he may serve for no more than six years. Set him free in the seventh year, and he will owe you nothing for his freedom.”

 2.       Hmm… How to enter heaven? I knew a man that believed he will enter heaven strictly because he believed he was forgiven by God. Yet, there was something else. He believed he did not willfully sin anymore. It’s amazing were not friends. He was concerned that I had a stumbling block to heaven. He was not concerned with helping me past sin. He was more concerned about associating with likeminded people. I might infect him. Is that the message we want to give people trying to find God in heaven?

At times Jesus like to use the ‘woe” word. He used it in Matthew 11 for not repenting. He uses it in Matthew 18 for creating stumbling blocks. He uses it in Matthew 23 for false teaching and bad religion. It’s all bad Christianity. How to enter heaven? The answer? Is not found in creating stumbling blocks. It’s not found in rejecting people. It’s not found in saying you forgive. Ironically church is not great at this. They are far more concerned with the 99-paying sheep than the one who walked away.

Christians and Bible readers set up rules to enter heaven. Different denominations have different rules. Different religions have different rules and names for heaven. Yet, it’s not our heaven. We don’t make the rules. I am stunned by Noah building the ark for a hundred years. On the day the doors closed, I could see all those people banging to get in. I also think about the end of times. When the church is taken from earth, where will the people go to bang on the shut door? Maybe our door should be open before that happens?

Matthew 18:22 “Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times."

Genesis 18:26 “The Lord said, “If I find fifty righteous people in the city of Sodom, I will spare the whole place for their sake.”

 3.       What is God like? I thought this chapter was about the little ones. I thought it was about forgiveness and getting into heaven? The character of God is in full display here. It’s Jesus. If he is God then there it is. God the Father on display through his Son. We are so concerned with what the Bible teaches that we miss the important stuff. How many times to forgive? Who is the greatest? Rules for approaching behavior in church. Yet, there is God’s character fully exposed and we missed it. The Christian template missed in the mist of famous verses.

 God is humble. Wait a minute, God does not humble himself. Really? He came to earth as a man and not as a God. He humbled himself to be honoring of his children. He has compassion for the ignorant. Make no stumbling blocks for the small. He shows compassion and concern for the lost. He has faith in the saved 99. Time after time God will return to sinners offering them a way through. He came himself in the Old Testament in several ways (Sodom and Gomorrah). He asks us to approach with two to make things right in a disagreement. God says forgive until you forgive. God will do right with those who do right.

God’s character? Do what is right, just, and honorable. Be humble to the weak, poor, children, and lost. Never give up on anyone. Put himself in harms way for others. Those are the Christian attributes. Sure, we can memorize scripture. It’s good. Yet, we are to be the template of Jesus on others. Why don’t Christian children remain in church? The numbers say the majority don’t. Again, this is the warning. Train a child by coming to Christ like a child yourself. Be humble like children. Be curious and forgiving like the little ones. Be God like character in all you do. That is the Christian template we are to pass on.

Matthew 18:27“And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt."

Matthew 5:9 “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”

 4.       Let’s take a quick look at three big daddies in the Bible. The first is verses 6-9. People take Jesus literally and they should. I could say I’m so hungry I could die. Literally? Of course, I’m not going to die. It’s an expression. Yet, I have described how hungry I was. Jesus says that we should put a millstone around our necks if we cause people to stumble. That stone is massively heavy. It’s pointing out how bad it would be to cause children to stumble. Should we cut off out hands and feet if they sin? Should we gouge our eyes if we’ve seen sinful things? Jesus is saying it’s better not to sin than needing to cut out the things we need like eyes and feet. It’s a deep description and should not be taken lightly or literal.

Secondly, I know a person who said they would try and make you a Christian two or three times but that’s it. After that, they would disown you. They used verses 15-20 to make their case. The problem is they missed the one sheep story before these verses. We are to talk about sin. yet, it should be more about being unified in our morals than casting people aside. We should be more concerned about the one who walked away than those who stayed.

Lastly, is it best to forgive once, seventy times, or seventy times seven? Believe it or not, there have been hundreds of books devoted to the right answer, yet it’s right here. Hear me wisely. Jesus is saying forgive until you forgive. That is a terribly hard pill to swallow. Forgiveness takes time. Those that go publicly on TV to forgive right after a murder have not forgiven. It takes time. That is why it’s seventy times seven or eternity. Forgive until you forgive.

Matthew 18:26 “So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’”

Matthew 6:14-15 “For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. 15 But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”

What it means?

           This is the beginning of a series I would call “who is the greatest.” Jesus is going to tell us parables of what the kingdom is like. He is going to teach us about God’s character. We can miss this sometimes. I have taken time to remind you that we can’t just skim the parables, stories, and famous verses. There is a message within these verses that is not hidden. Take the time to write down character traits of all the characters. What is Jesus saying in his teaching? Do you see repeats from other chapters?

Above in part 4 I placed two verses at the end. I do it a lot. Matthew is repeating themes. In reality, it’s Jesus ministry on display. What is Jesus repeating in three years of ministry. Be nice. Be kind. Be compassionate. How about be humble. There are plenty more. Treat this book as a warning but also a guide. This is Christianity on display. The good and bad.

               What it means is that to be Christian is hard work. The disciples blew it for three years and beyond. In Galatians 2 Paul finds Peter playing politics and church. Paul rebukes him. I find this interesting. We all can get carried away with pride, power, status, importance, and position. I have seen a discussion at church about parking. Really? The pastors, ministry leaders, and servers had to be told not to park closest to the doors. That’s what’s wrong with Christian leadership today. We are not training children to walk like Jesus. Matthew 18 is tough. Remember, if children get it then we can too. It’s about the character and message of God that’s truly important.

Matthew 18:29 “His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay it back.”

Romans 13:8 “Owe nothing to anyone except to love one another; for he who loves his neighbor has fulfilled the law.”

[alliswell21]

I wish you would write a fic where... vampire!Finnick and vampire!Peeta try to understand human's modern-day social media! :P

Hi @thelettersfromnoone!!! Sorry it took me so long to answer your ask… I have to admit, when I first read the prompt I laughed, I envisioned it as a cheerful piece of comedy, but when I started writing it, it pretty much beat my hiney. I just couldn’t get the voices right, and the tone was all wrong, I think I rewrote it 3 times… it’s still not exactly what I set out to do, but it’s close enough… I hope this is ok.

Rated G

Louis de Pointe du Lac and Lestat de Lioncourt meet Vincent Vega and Jules Winnfield in this Peenick fic. Enjoy. (Most of the dialogue are actual rants I’ve heard from my husband’s grandfather, plus a few debates between my husband and his best friend from high school)

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

Daylight Savings Time is finally at an end. All the clocks have been set back an hour, and sunsets come earlier each day… too bad I can’t see the glorious colors painting the sky with my own eyes tracking the sun’s slow descent into the horizon while the scattered clouds turn gold, orange and intense pink. It’s the thing I miss the most about being alive. The good news is that cinema is there to provide glimpses of my beloved sunsets, even if they are a flat replica.

I take a look at the clock on the wall, and then eye the sun setting charter taped directly under it. Fall is our favorite time of year, with its longer, darker nights. We are free to leave our den and roam the town, we can even walk into any establishment while it’s still regular business hours like normal people, because while the clock says it’s 17:00, it’s inky black outside, and no trace of the cheerful sun can be felt.

Today is special, though. “We are renewing our wardrobes!” Announced Finnick earlier, so as soon as the sun goes down, and it’s safe to leave our place,1 we’re heading to the mall on a business call errand.

“Is it time yet?” Asks Finnick entering the room, wearing a different outfit than the one I saw him in 10 minutes ago. He’s anxious. We haven’t been out in a while, and I know he’s both looking forward to this and nervous at the same time.

“Two more minutes, then we can go.” I tell him.

He makes a face that’s full of annoyance. We just heard the weather report, and it’s supposed to be a gorgeous evening. He hates going out on nice evenings to run errands when he could be luring beautiful, warm-blooded gals into the darkness of his bedroom. He considers it a waste, if he’s isn’t hunting, but he was the one to call for a day of shopping, I could care less about clothing.

“You know most everything can be acquired online nowadays. There’s very little instances your physical presence is required for a transaction to be made.” I offer softly. His glare is immediate and expected, but there’s mirth behind it as well.

He wrinkles his nose in disgust, but smiles nonetheless. “So impersonal, Peeta. Not at all how a gentleman should conduct business.” He says in his usual debonair tone, “It’s almost as if you don’t know me at all!” He flashes me that smile he uses to enchant his victims before his fangs graze along smooth, pulsating, bare necks, like a deadly caress.

I simply avert my eyes. Finnick is not my creator, but he was made 50 years before I was even born, and that makes him my elder, but sometimes, he can be such a brat! Is hard not to think of him as a child at times. His smile doesn’t have quite the same effect on me, though. I’m not a living woman, so I drawl out a response.

“With all the technological advances of the time, why bother going out, for something you can get from the safety and comfort of your lair?” I shrug, then smirk, “I’m sure you can find other, more suited pursuits for a night such as this.” I fan out a hand.

Finnick’s devious smile widens, a dangerous glint takes over his eyes.

I was told once, that Finnick used to have a lovely set of eyes, the color of the sea; that his gaze held the warmth of the tropics and the light of the sun. But when I look into his eyes now, all I see is a washed down shade of green, with pupils as dark and empty as the abyss and a danger that thrills as it pulls you in the darkened recesses of his penetrating stare, where natural light is nonexistent.

“Humanity has made the current time a very convenient era for our kind, hasn’t it?” He says taking a sit and crossing his leg over his opposite knee. “But first impressions do matter, my friend. You can’t just buy clothing from stock. Tailors exist for a very, good reason!”

This is just a variant of his many sayings of ‘the suit makes the man’ sentiment. I check the clock again, nodding in agreement, “But the internet is so much safer, what with all the ways you can interact with others, without really doing it.” I say more to myself than him.

“Why yes, one only needs to fiddle a smart phone apparatus, and everything’s there at your fingertips… what’s the fun on that?” He sounds partially angry.

“It’s convenient.” My voice is soft and monotonous. “Efficient and saves you the hassle of having to interact with vendors that may be irritating.” But for me, is more than that.

I’m not really into eating humans all that much, I rather take a stroll to the blood bank and peruse through the samples until I find something I want. I hate looking at the lifeless eyes of my feed providers after. So gruesome, ugh!

“It’s boring,” He states. “How much longer?” He asks impatiently.

“Take your coat and we may go.”

The drive to the mall is uneventful and quiet, but as soon as we step into the building, we both wince at the brightly lit entrance, artificial light bathes everything the eye reaches, but at the end of 10 seconds, we grow used to the glare. Our instinct is to flee the light, but our reason tells us it’s harmless so we walk right in. While we could smell the whole town since leaving our house, the scent of fresh blood assault our senses like a tide wave; I inhale deeply and allow a satisfied smile take over my features, but next to me, Finnick hisses in displeasure at the throng of people meandering about, as if he just walked into a fresh meat market, after pledging to be a vegetarian under duress. I wished I could say I was sorry to find enjoyment in his pain, but it’s actually kind of funny.

We make a left turn after passing the hubbub of the food court, and then we see them: people meandering around with their cellphones aloft, heads bowed towards the luminous screens, while ignoring anything and everyone else around them. Is one thing to see someone checking their email while sitting and consuming a tray of food court bourbon chicken and a 32 ounce Diet Coke, but another one to see an almost accurate representation of a zombie apocalypse, where the undead only respond to pings and blips. I know in my frozen heart, there will be no shutting him up until we get to the menswear store.

“Why do they do that?” Finnick asks under breath. “They look like sheep. Silly ones at that.”

I observe the few people so absorbed in their phones that narrowly avoid crashing into things along the way by sheer good luck with mild interest while we take the escalators in the middle of the first floor, then shrug.

The whole ride up, Finnick rambles, watching the hypnotized humans with contempt. “Why do they insist on developing this, so called, ‘virtual community’ nonsense? It keeps them from real life interactions, everyone so enthralled with their media devices?”

We climb off the escalator and fall into step side by side.

“It keeps them informed, connected with people they don’t normally see.” I tell him as we pass a kitchen and baking supply store, my head turns to look at a handsome set of measuring cups… you can take the corpse out of the bakery, but can’t take the bakery out of the corpse. “It expands their horizons even from the confines of their homes.” I say calmly, like I’m speaking to an overexcited child. “It’s in their nature to network and exchange opinions. Man was not created to be isolated, Finnick. Humans have a driving need to belong, and social media satisfies the void.”

“They abuse it, Peeta.” He says easily as we take a right turn, “Give a person an internet capable device, Twitter, Facebook… hell! Give them a comment box on a news article! humans can’t shut up! People behave poorly and opts to ignoring their sense of decorum. Is like they lack a filter, they become rude and attack one another when their ideologies don’t match completely.”

“Humans depend on social media now, there’s nothing else to it. It’s not a perfect development, it has its drawbacks, but it also has many pros and benefits. There’s no need to write it off entirely because humans are naturally imperfect and they tend to use their tools inappropriately at times. It happens.”

Finnick stops and sighs exaggeratedly. We really don’t need to breathe, but we still need air to pass through our bodies just the same, he just does it out of habit. He glowers at a passerby that makes the mistake of looking up when he feels someone staring, and judging by the way he trips while rushing to get away, he’s scared witless. I shake my head.

“I hate it when humans lie online!” Finnick mutters sullenly.

‘Ah! the truth at last’, I think to myself, understanding dawning on me. Finnick continues, ignoring my knowing half smile.

“You try to make acquaintances online, you find people that pique your interest and their life story at your fingertips, you could’ve very well just st found your next conquest, but if the information on them is false, further interaction gets hindered.”

“And if they decide no to meet in person?” I propose, taking a step forward.

“It’s truly inconvenient, not to mention disappointing especially when you need to feed.” He smiles, flashing his fully extended fangs, and then retracting them back into his skull.

“How romantic.” I deadpan. “You sound like one of those desperate types that uses date sites… wait, you are one of those.” I say in fake surprise.

Finnick discovered one questionable such site, and had one extremely bad online entanglement with what he thought was a living women; it turned out, he’d been chatting and enchanting an overweight, greasy hair, foul looking fellow that posed as a girl looking to befriend other girls for his own nefarious agenda. Of course, Finnick really wasn’t there innocently trying to make friends either, but he never pretended to be an oversharing teenage girl to lure anyone to him. Somehow Greasy Hair Fellow- I like to think of it as providence- crossed paths with Finnick, and when finally the truth came to light… let’s say, a number of unsuspecting girls got spared both Finnick and Greasy Fellow for good. At the end, Greasy Fellows remains. were a real messy business no one likes to reminisce about.

Finnick values my partial humanity warring with my undead nature most of the times, it’s what called to him when we met, but sometimes he hates the fact that I still have morals.

“I know how you feel, about it Peet!” he defends. “Social media may suit you as it is, but not me, I see it as the biggest pest the world has seen, and I’ve seen pests in my time roaming Earth.” He ‘dusts’ himself, as if merely talking about it has made him sooty. “Facebook will be the demise of mankind, mark my words.” He enunciates each word for emphasis.

“Now you’re just being dramatic.” I tell him, bored. “You make it sound like it’s impossible to find people out in the streets. Plus, there are a great deal of amazing things online. For example, Wikipedia is possibly the crowning achievement of humanity. People of all backgrounds have come together to record an amalgamation and collection of knowledge, that can be expanded, corrected and consulted when needed. That’s a good part of social media.” My tone is monotonous, because I really cannot muster the energy to be excited. Finnick says it’s a side effect of my dietary restrictions, that if I fed from a fresh live donor, I’d be healthier and livelier. I cannot dispute him on it, but I won’t go tempting myself with someone’s life, just to feel peppier.

“People can get facts wrong on Wikipedia.”

”That’s why there’s other people scouring over it at all times.”

“If you enjoy it so much, then donate to its maintenance.” He sneers childishly. “People hide behind their anonymity shield, and act and talk as nasty as they can. There’s no respect or consideration anymore.

“Back when I was a child, no one even had a telephone! If a person wanted to chat with another, they met face to face. People used to visit one another. Letters where the way to communicate with long distance acquaintances. None of this nonsense!”

“Finnick, you truly sound your age.” I drawl annoyedly.

This causes him to snap his eyes at me scandalized. “Take it back,” he hisses lowly.

Then, give. It. A. Rest! Social media is a useful tool.”

“A tool? Social media is not merely a tool anymore, Peeta, it’s part of their culture, they need it, they crave it, they can’t go a moment without it… why it’s like they’re addicted to it!”

”That may be, but the same can be said about food, oxygen and sleep. Social media aids as the ability to reach others. Now shut up and shop!”

I arch an eyebrow at him and he finally grunts in displeasure but walks purposely ahead. I just watch him as he rattles the door to the store open and steps inside smiling a beatific grin.

“Ah! Wonderful! Colorful display. That should cheer you up, Peeta!”

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes, since he’s making it sound like I was the one raving and raging our whole commute about social media and it’s dangers. He’s finally changed the subject, there’s no need to rile him up again, which still does not change the fact that he’s insufferable.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” I whisper relieved and step inside.

[notesfromthefielddesk]

Episode 2 - E.E. Evans Pritchard

Episode link - https://open.spotify.com/episode/0LqJQ1q2kv5utkoct7V8Cg?si=485ef5c24837440e

John

I’m looking out over the plains of what was once Nuerland. The heavy clay earth is broken apart by the relentless sun. Deep cracks and the threaded depressions of rivers which rarely fill, even in the rainy season, are the only features on the dead flat, almost alien landscape. Around me cattle rest on the slightly (We hear gentle mooing) elevated sandy spot I found for my desk. From here I can see clear to the horizon where I spot sporadic patches of trees but all other greenery has browned and died back months ago. What these cows are living off is beyond me.

In years past the sodden clay retained water allowing certain plants to survive through the dry months. When the rain came this whole plain would be covered in grass reaching over my head as I sit behind my desk. Near the rivers edge they’d reach up to my shoulders even when standing. The rivers would fill then overflow making the whole plain a marshy swamp. At times like those this sandy mound would be prime real-estate and i’d be sharing space with far more cows.

Nowadays, this is South Sudan. The rainy season has become more sporadic and unpredictable. Often the relief of rains arrival is followed - shortly - by overwhelming flooding. Right now people are still waiting on that rain.

(we hear the wind starting to pick up)

The wind is picking up. A cloud of dust is rising on the plain. The horizon, with it’s sporadic trees and the cracked earth disappear from view behind a wall of air thick with clay. I can see about two cows away. Out of the dust emerges a figure. They’re walking towards me.

This is notes from the field desk.

Theme

oh! you. Look after what you told me in Papua new guinea I don’t think we should be talking. What are you doing here anyway? -

what do you mean am I following you? I am here by chance. My flight back to London from Brisbane got diverted because of technical fault with the plane and we landed in Juba. So there is no way I could have followed you here. If anything you’re probably followed me!

(sigh) Fine, I suppose there is no harm in you sitting here. There���s a tree stump just there you can listen to me record if you want. That is if you’re not busy organising a coup or whatever.

Anyway, when we got grounded in Juba I had a look through my collection. Oh, I should explain, I travel with a trunk of the one hundred most influential ethnographies, that’s what we call the books anthropologists write.

Side note, I never thought the trunk would be a problem, in all these Ethnographies they talk about getting porters to carry all their stuff, but when I asked at the airport for a porter, they just laughed at me?

Anyway, we were grounded a while before they cancelled the flight. So I had a look and it turns out another anthropological founding father did research in South Sudan. E.E.Evans-Pritchard. Or as I call him EEEE Pritchard. Okay well look, I don’t even want you to find my jokes funny so you just sit there rolling your eyes all you want.

Evans-Pritchard was a student of Malinowski at LSE and in the late 1920’s he set out for what was then Anglo-Egyptian Sudan. He wrote a couple of Ethnographies about the Azande which mostly focused on magic, kind of an obsession with early anthropologists. Then he headed south in 1930 to do research on the Nuer, which focused mostly on politics. A good hard subject we can get our teeth into! Anglo-Egyptian Sudan came Sudan in 1956, then split into the mostly Muslim North and mostly Christian South in 2011. Then in 2021 I arrived to do some peer-reviewing. I’m hoping Evan’s Pritchard is a bit less of a controversial figure so my students will get off my back.

(phone rings) ignore that, i’m ignoring, that’s nothing.

(Clearly still flustered) Okay, last time, we talked about the two sides of anthropology, the field and the desk. If Malinowski represents the innovation of field, you know participating in society, going native, spending years in the field. Then Evans-Pritchard is the OG anthropologist who developed the desk. Anthropology trades on being able to create a sense of being there through vivd description, where Malinowski could be a bit stiff and scientific Evans-Pritchard had a bit of flare with his flowing prose.

Is that cow looking at me? That one there with huge horns. I swear to god it’s looking at me.

Anyway, EP, I like calling him EP when I do he feels like a friend. (clear throat) He made drawings, he took tonnes of pictures, he described the plains, some of his diary crept into the ethnography. No racism as far as I could tell but He talks about being frustrated, he shows his work. A move towards modern anthropology. So reading his The Nuer, which is the ethnography he wrote about this region, is really like the experience of being here. Way less of a slog than boring old Malinowski.

(Email Chime)

Ohh an email, do you mind if I just check this? I just got assigned a student whose thesis i’m supervising. Very exciting. Shaping the next generation of anthropologists and all that.

okay, here we go.

“Dear Professor Johnson”

Not a professor but i’m quite pleased with that.

“I discussed briefly with Susan, uh-huh, during the introduction lecture that I’d be interested in researching the club scene, queer identity and youth in London. I’ve been reading tony Adams and Stacy Holman Jones on Auto-ethnography and that’s inspired me to try it myself. If you could point me in the direction of some readings to get myself started with.

All the best,”

I’ll leave their name out of it, bit of privacy. Hmm well i’m not sure about that. I mean really ethnography should be done in a rural place, not the city, should they even be doing research in the UK? This is anthropology not sociology. Plus auto-ethnography? I’ve never heard of it but we’re supposed to be studying the other not ourselves, this isn’t psychology. Hmm well I need to think about a reply, don’t want to stamp on the young fellows aspirations but he needs setting straight.

What is that cow doing. Is it - it’s coming over here isn’t it. Shoo, shoo! it’s licking me. Do something don’t just laugh. No do not nibble my suit! Argh. This suit cost a lot of money cow! Get off me. Shoo. Fine, i’m getting up. it’s your desk now!

Go on get out of here!

You know what happens now because you wouldn’t help me? We’re going to talk about theory. Yes groan away, there isn’t even a sea for you to paddle in this time so I guess you’ll just have to sit down there with the cows and listen.

This book actually is mostly about cows. All three hundred pages of it, I don’t think there is a single sentence that doesn’t mention cows or cattle or I don’t know bovine. I mean I like cows as much as the next englishman but it’s not exactly thrilling. But in fairness to Evans-Pritchard the Nuer didn’t exactly give him a choice. He said that

“whatever subject I would start on, and approaching it from whatever angle, we would soon be speaking of cows and oxen, heifers and steers, rams and sheep, hegoats and she-goats, calves and lambs and kids.”

Basically the Nuer loved cows. He said this fact was the underlying structure of Nuer society. So everything in Nuer society comes back to cows. Love, war, religion, politics, it was all about cows.

Our boy EP is a structural functionalist, - look the terms are important so just get used to it - meaning he thought there are underlying structures to all societies, that cause us to behave in a certain ways. Where Malinowski and functionalism thought post hoc ergo propter hoc - I can see you rolling your eyes, sometimes latin is useful! (deep sigh) Fine, i’ll explain it another way.

Malinowski would say the Nuer like cows because they give them milk - our boy EP would say okay but why love cows instead of say… soy beans which can also give you milk. It’s because the conditions the land in which the Nuer live aren’t good for growing soy beans, but they are good for raising cattle.

What would be a good comparison. Okay, Malinowski would say you like your iPhone because it gives you messages from friends. Those messages make you feel nice, so it fills a need. And EP might say, yes that’s true but it’s also possible that you like the phone because the underlying structure of Western society values objects especially expensive ones. Or else you’d have a nokia 3310. It still fills the same function but EP aims to explain why people choose one thing over another. If you’re a quote fan here is how Evans-Pritchard put it.

“Although the Nuer have a mixed pastoral-horticultural economy their country is more suitable for cattle husbandry than for horticulture, so that the environmental bias coincides with the bias of their interest and does not encourage a change in the balance in favour of horticulture.”

Oh there is a guy over there! (Shouting) Hey! Hey sir! Sir! Who do these cows belong to? Sir? (Biggish pause) (Snort in distance) He’s gone. Well I didn’t have time to chat anyway, i’ve got a tutorial. Just keep that cow away from me while I’m teaching. I doubt you care but here’s a Nuer song that Evans Pritchard translated.

Extract

The wind blows wira wira;

Where does it blow to?

It blows to the river. The shorthorn carries its full udder to the pastures;'

Let her be milked by Nyagaak;

My belly will be filled with milk. Thou pride of Nyawal,

Ever-quarrelling Rolnyang.

This country is overrun by strangers;

They throw our ornaments into the river;

They draw their water from the bank.

Blackhair my sister,

I am bewildered.

Blackhair my sister,

I am bewildered.

We are perplexed;

We gaze at the stars of God.

White ox good is my mother

And we the people of my sister. The people of Nyariau Bui.

As my black-rumped white ox. When I went to court the winsome lassie,

I am not a man whom girls refuse. We court girls by stealth in the night,

I and Kwejok Nyadeang.

We brought the ox across the river,

I and Kirj oak

And the son of my mother's sister Buth Gutjaak.

Friend, great ox of the spreading horns,

Which ever bellows amid the herd. Ox of the son.

Return from tutorial

You let the cows eat my notes!? I thought I said watch the cows! What happened? Was it that same cow again? What do you mean they all look the same, the one with the evil eyes!

Okay, so it seems like I missed some things again. The students pointed out that on page one of the preface, I might have skipped the preface, says “My study of the Nuer was undertaken at the request of, and was mainly financed by, the Government of the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan.” Which means the colonial government most likely paid for him to do the research because they wanted to control the Nuer. He describes them as violent willing to go to war over cattle at the drop of a hat. In text he says;

“At the present time cattle are the main cause of hostility

towards, and suspicion of, the Government, not so much on

account of present taxation as of earlier tax-gathering patrols

which were little more than cattle raids and of the avowedly

plundering expeditions of the Egyptian Government era that

preceded them.”

The students pointed out that given theat the government violently took their property, it was kind of understandable that the Nuer were angry. Again, if he was there trying to collect information so the colonial officers could control them, can we trust his findings?

During the second world war he used his ethnographic relationships to recruit Sudanese troops who he then led in Guerrilla warfare against the Italians. I said that sounds pretty cool right? Which made them angry, academic knowledge shouldn’t be used as a weapon to manipulate people into fighting in a war, which, regardless of the outcome would leave them colonised. They asked why we were spending so much time focussing on old men.

(Phone rings) Ignore that!

Pause takes a breath

I said fine, but we have to cover foundational figures who would they rather cover? What about Boas? He thought races were biological different and with some inferior to others. Ruth Benedict? They say she wrote a book for the US army in the Second World War about how to defeat the Japanese based on their culture without ever setting foot in Japan. Fine, Margret Mead? Exoticised the sex lives of Samoans and thought they were primitive.

I’m taking off this jacket it’s so hot and it’s got cow slobber all over the shoulder.

Well if all of them were racist then let’s just pack the whole thing in! They said I wasn’t understanding. I was thinking about racism as an individual failing caused by ignorance. But they weren’t ignorant, their racism was a product of society. In that way Evans-Pritchard was right. They lived during colonialism and the rise of the nation state. Which meant Nations had to justify their difference from others and their superiority over others.

People had to have a reason to believe in “Being British” rather than French or Sudanese. Or why would you think it was okay to rule them? Or to enforce boarders?  These ideas of superiority and difference permeated the early anthropologists the same way the utility of cow herding led to the Nuer loving cattle. So everyone from that era was bound to be Colonialist.

They also said It doesn’t help that doing fieldwork confirms the differences between people. My head felt like it was going to explode. Still trying to figure it all out and it doesn’t help that that cow is still looking at me. I asked where they were getting all this from? Lentin and Visweswaren they said, apparently it’s on the reading list… I haven’t read the reading list.

(Phone rings once but he immediately hangs it up)

So, they said maybe next we could talk about Talal Asad. Apparently he is an anti-colonial ethnographer or something. I said fine whatever. They seem to know more than me anyway. Maybe we shouldn’t do fieldwork, maybe we should all do auto-ethnography. My students said maybe, but we still need to pay attention because racism hasn’t gone away, it’s still in our society. Which means we still might make arguments for it in our work unless we’re careful.

I guess before I do field work I should look at what the underlying structures of Britain are effecting my thinking. Not just my assumptions like I thought with Malinowski but what it means for a British person to turn up at a former colony. What does that act mean even before I start interacting with people.

I know that sounds like the same conclusion as episode one but my students assure me it’s subtly different. My head hurts, let’s go.

Nah leave the desk I’ll just get another.

Theme

This was notes from the field desk written by me James McGrail.  

This episode references

Evans-Pritchard, E.E., The Nuer, 1940, Clarendon Press, Oxford.

Lentin, A. (2004). Racial states, anti-racist responses. Picking holes in 'Culture' and 'Human Rights'. European Journal of Social Theory 7(4): 427-443.

Pocock, D. (1975). Sir Edward Evans-Pritchard 1902–1973: An appreciation. Africa, 45(3)

Visweswaran, Kamala (1998) Race and the Culture of Anthropology, American Anthropologist 100/1: 70-83.

Theme ends

Susan

Do you think I’m stupid? You think I believe your flight got diverted to South Sudan? South Sudan? Oh and it just so happens that it’s thematically appropriate for your little podcast? Get back to London. Now. We need to have a serious conversation.

https://freesound.org/people/Mystikuum/sounds/401636/

https://freesound.org/people/JarredGibb/sounds/233143/

https://freesound.org/people/selcukartut/sounds/504882/

https://freesound.org/people/felix.blume/sounds/187756/

https://freesound.org/people/darrinsmith/sounds/274434/

https://freesound.org/people/InspectorJ/sounds/405561/

https://freesound.org/people/t-man95/sounds/553265/

[wannawrite]

All For One

who?: Wanna One’s Lai Guanlin, Cube Ent’s / Pd101’s Yoo Seonho genre: 🌸 type: bullet point blog navigator. • you have two Cube Chicks for best friends • is this a good or bad idea? this...is the cutest, softest thing...possibly...ever. I’ll try my best! Made me think of my best friends a lot  :”) TYSM @isaluciavevo for requesting - Admin L

• ahhhh the Cube Chicks are back together again • honestly,,,who...just who in the right mind thought that this would be a good idea • because it is a GREAT idea • but • warning: Cube Chicks may cause trouble out of good intention • good vibes only • that’s how y’all roll • if you want it • you go get it • and your boys will support you • both are competitive sportsmen • basketball team!! • captain • and vice-captain • it’s a v v messy yet memorable friendship • sometimes it’s you trying to keep Seonho and Guanlin alive • sometimes it’s Guanlin trying to keep you and Seonho from getting arrested • yeah • it’s Seonho for everything • have you seen this boy? • he gets in so much trouble its a miracle you haven’t bailed him out of jail yet • but he’s a good boy, don’t worry • he’s just clumsy and childish • kind of doesn’t think of consequences before acting • sort of plunges both feet into hot water without dipping his toes to check first • but • that’s how your entire friendship functions • it’s a good friendship • you share a class with Seonho • and it’s crazy • he sits next to you • some days he never pays attention to the teacher and gossips to you throughout class • other days he’s like • ‘hey seonho can I borrow a pencil-’  • ‘shush. pay attention to the teacher, y/n.’ • damn Seonho I just wanted a pencil I didn’t ask for this slander • but you love him • in school, he’s the first person to greet you at your locker in the mornings • with a bright smile, his backpack slung over his shoulder • then he ruffles your hair playfully, messing it up completely • true friendship :”) • ‘ahh, I know that person you like will definitely take notice of you now,’ he teases • then you guys walk to assembly and class together • sometimes in class, you guys have a sheet of foolscap paper in between the desks • and either one of you will draw or write some really cute, heart-warming, heart-fluttering bullshit • okay you get my drift • ‘you’re doing amazing sweetie’ • ‘cheer up!’ • ‘have fun at basketball practice later!’ • ‘i miss Guanlin :(‘ • ‘>:( what about me’ • ‘I love Guanlin :D’   • ‘ :”( ‘ • ‘ily2 dw ❤️’ • Seonho smiles before folding up the paper and sticking it into his bag just as your teacher walks by • he has an incredible knack of never getting in trouble • he can create trouble but he doesn’t get in it • explain later • okay now • Seonho is also super concern and caring • during lunch if he gets pizza, he makes sure to buy some for you too • and Guanlin of course • ‘pfpp lol hyung you can buy your own’ • ‘yah, you still owe me from last week’s frozen yoghurt.’ • bickers over food • visits your house very often • he just comes to nap on your bed • ‘nooo I’m here to inspect if you cleaned your room like you said you did in your Snapchat story.’ • really, he just wants access to your pantry and kitchen • while eating popcorn, you and Guanlin doodle things all over his arms when he’s sleeping • not dicks pls • Seonho is a child • he needs his sleep • after sleeping, he makes sure to go out with you and Guanlin a lot • barbecue is a MUST • in fact, the owner is a classmate’s parent • and always give you guys a discount • THAT’S how regular y’all are • and there’s always a tad bit more food for your table • karaoke is a favourite • time for swaggy rapper™️ to shine • speaking of Guanlin • he’s a year older • yet not that much more mature • or sensible • jk, he is • quieter and shyer than Seonho • but just as goofy when he opens up to you • is fake deep • ‘I want to get a tattoo of a burrito because we get so wrapped up in our internal feelings and sadness, that we ignore the crisp and goodness outside.’ • sends really meaningful things to the group chat at 12am • Guanlin🐥: you guys mean the world to me, I would never trade y’all for anything else • Seonho🐣: aww hyung :”) • you: 💓💓💓 • changes the group chat profile pic very often • he went through an entire streak of Kermit the frog for a month • Guanlin really likes memes • more than Seonho • and Seonho has a folder of 500+ pictures of memes alone • at 3.30am, Guanlin will send memes to the group chat • kermit the frog memes • pepe memes   • any other meme you can think of • sometimes recycles memes • edits memes • Guanlin🐥: hey Daniel hyung promised me a lifetime worth of pizza if I gave  Seonho to Minhyun hyung • Guanlin🐥: so lmao bye bye Seonho • Guanlin🐥: you’re the sacrifice • Seonho actually disappears for a couple of hours   • wh00ps • but Guanlin is EXTRA • extra sweet ;) • advises you both of life • ‘now...my young grasshoppers, I’m going to teach you how to sleep in class and not get caught.’ • ‘this is how you secretly eat pizza rolls in the middle of math’ • ‘LiSTEN, this is how you sneak in a waffle maker to make breakfast in morning assembly’ • but he does actually help • he helps both of you with studies • pushes Seonho to study by treating him to pizza • and ice cream • and chicken • Guanlin tells you tips and tricks to memorise math formulas better • uses creative analogies • ‘okay, imagine that x is a sheep. So 2x would mean 2 sheep and then 4x + -3x would be?’ • I don’t even know actually but let’s just pretend I do • ‘guys, if you get Mr Kai as your math teacher next year, tell me.’ • is a nice, responsible and caring older brother • gets really protective from time to time • it’s the small actions that give him away • like • ‘no, I’ll walk you out to the gate, don’t go by yourself.’ • ‘text me when you get home safe, okay?’ • will walk you to the bus stop and take your bus even if it goes the opposite way • makes some lame excuse • ‘uhh, my sister’s friend’s dog is in the area so I’m going to meet him and we’ll go back together.’ • ‘I need to pick up dry cleaning for my mother. You know how she’s fussy about her evening gowns.’ • ‘Lin, it’s 9pm at night...the shop is closed.’ • red-faced • ‘oh’ • Guanlin is #1 on speed dial on both your phones • ‘in cases y’all get drunk, call me, no one else knows how to take care of you two.’ • Seonho always texts him when he’s arrived safely at home • with a cute selfie sometimes • Guanlin tracks both the children’s sleep schedules in his diary watch him • is generous • pays for your haircuts • *pushes both of you into the salon Jinyoung works at* • ‘since school is almost over, you guys need a look for summer.’ • ‘hey Jinyoung, these are my friends so take good care of them wink wonk’ • ;) • I got you • Taiwanese chick is slyer than a fox • Seonho sits in the salon chair with pitch black hair • and emerges with a blonde streak down the middle • you don’t sense anything wrong • until Baejin starts to whip out green hair dye • ‘WAIT’ • you wrestle Jinyoung for that box • ‘HOW MUCH DID GUAN PAY YOU? I CAN PAY YOU MORE!’ • Guanlin’s hair ends up being blondish green • well done • he also once convinced Jinyoung to chop off a good 4 inches of your hair • I could use some 4 inches in height • hah • speaking of height • Guanlin is tall • so is Seonho • and Guanlin is just a bit more of that annoying tall friend who makes fun of everyone who isn’t as tall as them • yes thank you for putting MY box of cookies on the top shelf of my pantry • aww Seonho you sweetheart, thanks for helping   • he smirks and takes the whole box for himself • sigh • tall people • if you hang out in the evenings • Guanlin always drags Seonho’s ass out of your house to the basketball courts nearby • to practice • you know • time to grind😤😫 • you tag along • trying to win against a basketball team captain and vice-captain • some die heroes • ‘WatCH ME’ • your best friends just chuckle and shrug • but they are also your support squad • ‘jUst JUMP YOU GOT THIS!’ Guanlin yells enthusiastically • once, he even bought a loudspeaker • ‘LET’S GO TEAM!’ • and it got taken away by a park warden • then he brought another one • and a policeman on patrol swiped it • so Guanlin relied on his swaggy rapper™️ voice • Seonho becomes the spectator • ‘AND-AND WILL Y/N SCORE FOR THE FIRST TIME?’ • this is how you guys spend the weekends • ‘...THEY DO. A MIRACLE HAS HAPPENED.’ • Guanlin runs and catches you in a hug, overjoyed • Seonho joins soon after • and the three of you collapse in the cold court floor, bursting into laughter • but your heart couldn’t feel any warmer :”) • ‘ahhh, I could spend all night here.’ • but of course, realistically, you can’t • so all of you retire to Guanlin’s mansion • I make him a rich boy in every single one of my works I realised I’m sorry • sometimes it becomes a sleepover • like pillow fights   • making s’mores • scaring the hell out of his chef in the process • ‘dAMNIT GUANLIN YOUR PARENTS WILL KILL ME IF YOU BURN THE BOTTOM OF THIS POT.’ • ‘they’ll fire you if you swear at me, right?’ he says cockily, raising an amused brow • his chef just huffs. ‘I’ve known you since you ran around in diapers, goodness.’ • ahhh • his chef is gracious nonetheless and brings you guys platters of snacks for your movie night • includes a lot of yelling • Seonho getting spooked easily • Guanlin taking time to calculate if the scenario could happen in real life then reacting • the kind of best friends to watch Netflix with you until 12am • ‘c’mon,’ Seonho whispers. ‘Everyone should be asleep by now.’ • the three of you creep up to Guanlin’s spacious rooftop garden • star-gazing time • you pop open the soda bottles and get bags of chips • sipping cola • looking at the stars • back on the ground, head to head to form a circle • ahhh • ‘oh! shooting star!’ • ‘hey, that constellation looks like a horse!’ • it’s just a good time filled with laughter, jokes, food and friendship • as the night wears on, things get really deep and personal • these hangouts have sort of become personal therapy sessions for you • whatever you want to say • say it • all of you trust each other with your lives • a lot of things get lifted off each other’s chest • figure out problems together • help each other out • just a genuine, meaningful time of bonding • when it ends, you feel more secure and loyal to your friends • you and Seonho take the enormous couch in the gaming room while Guanlin sleeps in his bed a few doors down • he makes sure to tuck both of you in • and talk until one of you falls asleep before he tucks himself in • such a pure and real friendship • supportive • loving • loyal • and caring • during Christmas time, you guys team up to bake cookies and other holiday treats • it obviously isn’t the greatest idea • I mean, have you seen Guan and Seonho’s ‘It’s meringue time!’? yeah • seonho insists on icing his own cookies this year • he later spent almost an hour scraping icing off the ceiling of his kitchen • taking turns to help decorate each other’s houses • gift shopping for the rest of your clique together • synonymously agreeing to buy yet another fly swatter for Daniel • maybe some shoe insoles for Sungwoon • savages 24/7 • puns all around • breathe memes • especially Guanlin • like that boy has a basketball jersey with Kermit on the back • he actually wears it out • gave an identical one to Seonho for his birthday • and you received one as well for Christmas • from your Secret Santa • at basketball matches • it’s a given you’re there to support them, rain or shine • so if your crush wants to see you, they attend the game • a night before, you’re spamming the group chat with encouraging messages and gifs • they’re like ‘pffp we don’t need these’ but it actually cheers them up • HEART MELTING • there’s always a small spat in the group chat on whose jersey/jacket you will wear • Guanlin🐥: hEY I’M OLDER THAN YOU. • Guanlin🐥: THEY CAN WEAR YOURS ANY OTHER TIME, THIS IS ONE OF MY LAST COMPETITIONS 

• Seonho🐣: I FRICKIN WASHED AND DRY CLEANED MY JERSEY FOR THIS i’msorryimessedup

• on the day itself, you’re clad in Seonho’s practice jersey and Guanlin’s jacket • the cutest • everyone assumes y’all daring • but all of you are just the closest of friends • friendship goals • plus, they’re the best wingmen • just a super supportive, real, joyous friendship

[nettlestonenell]

The Finale!

I have begun posting this to FictionPress. (It’s not caught up with all my postings here, yet)

Find the earlier bits here on my tumblr.

Part X - At the Apiary

Since last we saw Conrad and Ada, several important plot points in our film have happened. [Because this is a film—does anyone remember that at this point?]

Following their time together at Conrad’s Toronto townhouse, both he and Ada, as a result of their own independent soul-searching, have separately filed for full custody of their clinic-made child, in whom the extended adoptive family has no interest (other than the considerable inheritance due the child from the estate of the deceased adoptive mother—which those same people are trying to get back through any legal means possible).

In the interim, Ada runs into a specific (and seemingly rare) ailment among her flock of heritage sheep. The local vet runs out of solutions, and cannot assist her. It is her mum who eventually cracks it, having been reading through one of Conrad’s earlier books about agriculture and its place in folklore, and recalling having found within it a centuries-old cure, which, to Ada’s shock, soon puts her flock on the mend. Yet another distressing tick in the “pro” column for Conrad Bierkut.

Shortly thereafter, the court makes its final ruling on the current custody and eventual adoption of Conrad and Ada’s biological child. The infant’s name has been kept out of the papers (shockingly), but it is Leta.

The court, having considered the options, and being influenced heavily by the number of statements on record Ada has made about the child not being hers (made when she was trying to outline her original decision to become an egg donor), and an old-fashioned prejudice against what they saw as a woman not (originally) wanting her child--rather than a man not originally wanting his child--has ruled in full favor of Conrad’s petition. (Conrad is also seen to be financially and emotionally more stable than Ada, no matter that this may not be, in practice, true.) He is awarded sole physical custody and a clear path toward future adoption.

Ada is heartbroken at the loss, and feeling more than a little aggrieved with Conrad for battling her for custody.

To viewers, it looks for all intents and purposes like the Babymakers’ story together is over.

And then, Ada’s father dies (not entirely unexpectedly, he has been vaguely ailing throughout the film).

It is the day of his funeral, which was held early in the day, and the mourners have gathered at the farmhouse for a meal. Ada, exhausted, and, of course, sad, decides to step away for a short walk, to clear her head and regain her composure before returning to the wake.

*Mind you, this is not a Terribly Depressing wake. (This is a Romantic Comedy!) People are sad and no one’s dancing, but her father lived a good life, was loved and valued by his family, and they’re all handling it well within reasonable and functional mental health parameters.

Ada is passing nearby the apiary when she catches a glimpse of someone out walking among the hives. She thinks she hears them speaking, but no one else is about.

Startled, she recognizes it as Conrad. Though they had been in occasional contact through the court’s decision process, during which she and Conrad were each afforded visitation with baby Leta, any communication between them broke down seemingly irrevocably with the announcement of Conrad being awarded full custody.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her tone not one of anger (though she feels she would have a right to be so), but of curious surprise.

Conrad seems surprised, himself, though not startled. Clearly, he expected to have been found out at some point.

“I was just…telling the bees.”

“Telling. The bees?” Ada looked at Conrad Bierkut. He wasn’t even dressed like a man attending a wake. In fact, he looked uncharacteristically scruffy, like he hadn’t been getting good rest, or quite enough sunshine. He looked more than a little like the physical embodiment of his office room, if a man could show up looking cluttered and dusty, and somewhat forgotten. He didn’t look like the victor in a court battle. He didn’t look like the slickly perfect top-requested sperm donor in the city—in the province.

But he did look comfortable, and, she was surprised to note, familiar. She closed her mouth before she instinctively told him she was glad to see him.

“Yeah, it’s uh—you gotta tell the bees. When something like this happens. It’s all over European agrarian folklore. In the Pyrenees—“

She stared. What was he on about?

“Whittier,” he seemed to feel he’d hit on something, sealing the poet’s name with a finger snap. “in Home Ballads;” he said, as though she ought to know it.

And then he was quoting poetry, his hand to his head as though it helped in the recitation; “’Went, drearily singing, the chore-girl small,/Draping each hive with a shred of black./Trembling, I listened; the summer sun/Had the chill of snow;/For I knew she was telling the bees of one/Gone on the journey we all must go!’”

“You are telling the bees that my father has died?” Ada asked, dryly.

He seemed to think his mission supremely reasonable. “If you don’t, it’s said they’ll die themselves, or stop producing—and I thought maybe you all might have forgotten to tell them, and just to be safe, because I really enjoyed that jar of honey Gina gave me, and it would be a pity if—“ he was starting to fall a bit over his own words.

Ada stood still, not certain if she wanted him to go or stay; to stop speaking, or continue.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Conrad said. “I didn’t come here to upset you further. It’s just, I heard about your dad and—and I, my mother, well, my mother went on ahead of us awhile ago. You know that. And it’s…well, I miss her, every day. Every damn day. And you know, I was thinking it’s foolish, really, to, to keep someone that loves you at a distance.”

He wasn’t, Ada thought to herself, no, he absolutely wasn’t going to try and—not here, not now—not after everything--

“To let someone,” he rushed on, “like the courts, let’s say, decide who’s family and who’s not, and who we should love the most and who should love us. Leta’s already lost time she can never get back with your dad, her granddad. And if you love Leta, then, why would I agree to keep her from you? And we were thinking, you know, she and I, that it would be great to have you around for birthdays and first days of school and Christmas and graduations, and we were thinking we should just ask if you would consider, to, like, co-parent, or whatever they’re calling it, with me, and come over a few times a week for dinner with us…”

She felt her heart lurch when he finally got to saying it. But instead of waiting for her answer, he went on. His delivery got a little less rushed, as he continued.

“But then we said, ‘well, that seems a little inefficient, after all. If Ada’s gonna to come to dinner and be at all these occasions, well, why not have her around all the time? Love calls to love after all, doesn’t it? And the miles alone that you’d put on your car, well, we felt like you’d prefer not to do quite so much driving. Carbon footprint, whatnot. Then, why not invite Ada to be part of us forever?’”

She did not register that her mouth had fallen open. The offer of being added to Leta’s life was more than, at this point, she would have ever expected. ‘Love calls to love,’ he had said. And her heart felt that, like an unexpected rock formation deep in her core that he had only just now managed to name, to classify.

“That’s, what the two of you said?” she asked, slowly.

Conrad went on, as if to undercut his statement. “It was mostly my idea to ask you to marry me. Because I love you.” He did not pause for any response from her. “Because it kind of hurts a little not to be able to hold the thing you love, and cherish it, and depend on it being there tomorrow, and the next day.”

Ada nodded, and breathed in deeply through her nose to try and hold off tears from falling. “And because time goes too fast?”

Conrad shook his head to agree with her. “I should have spoken up weeks ago.”

She disagreed. “I wouldn’t have been able to give you the answer you wanted.”

“No?” his eyebrows twitched together, concern blooming there. “…And now?” It was his turn for a deep breath, as he waited for her answer.

“You shall have to speak to the bees again,” she shrugged. “If there’s to be a wedding.”

He put his hand out, in hopes of taking hers in it. The corner of his mouth cocked in a half-smile. “Maybe save that for tomorrow, don’t you think? Too much news at once, might be more than they can handle.”

She extended her hand toward his, realizing how seldom, if ever, they had in any way touched. She was not surprised, but she did notice as he accepted it from her, the lack of callus on his palm. Not like Garrett’s, or Roger’s, or even her father’s. It was something new, something to learn. She looked up to his face. That, she realized, would not be something she would need to learn or memorize. She was reminded quite strongly that it was this face she’d been seeing for some time now, during her days, and also during her nights. It was this face that had—she couldn’t have said when—started crashing all her best dreams. It was this face she realized she had started longing to run across unexpectedly. Those sideburns she had embarrassed herself by realizing how much she wanted to brush softly with her thumbs. “I’m in love with you,” she said, like a girl waking up and sleepily announcing it was morning.

“Ada, Ada,” he said, “Never change,” just before his mouth met hers.

Slowly cut away and flash to back porch of the farmhouse, where Roger is playing with what we realize is baby Leta on his knee, as Conrad has left her in Ada’s brother’s care (without Ada seeing) as he sought out the bees.

“I half hope he gets stung to the point of needing medical attention,” Roger tells the baby, whom he is obviously quite charmed by, “What do you say to that? No? You’d prefer not? Yeah. Guess I’ll have to learn to be okay with him. So long as you’re part of the bargain, yeah?”

Pull away shot from them on the back porch as Gina comes out to join them there, until we can also see Ada and Conrad over the distance, still kissing at the apiary, as well as the rest of the farm lay-out.

Credits roll. To the right of the names and disclaimers, a reel runs of the next bits of Ada and Conrad’s life: the engagement announcement, moments of caring for Leta, the wedding at the farm, Conrad packing up his townhouse to move out to the farm, Ada finishing her house there, her business continuing to flourish, Conrad teaching in classrooms at the university, and then later on holding seminars at the farm.

Conrad’s next book coming out on the same day as Ada’s farm launches an organic lifestyle website.

Success for everyone, the baby is gorgeous. The paparazzi have moved on to the next outrageous thing. Life is good for The Babymakers.

Final scene before credits end shows Ada back at the apiary, holding a stick in one hand, Leta’s hand in the other (she’s about 3). Conrad arrives, very excited by the stick in Ada’s hand, and it is clear they are telling the bees another baby—a naturally conceived one this time—is on the way.

This wild odyssey began on April 27th of 2017.

Please be sure to Look At @jammeke‘s beautiful end-of-story gifset. I could not do better.

[the-foxwolf]

The Nature of Storytelling: Why We Have Superheroes

This article is intended for everyone. Not just people who read comics or books or play card games. What I am addressing in this article is the question of: why we have superheroes. Why do we, as a species, have stories of superheroes? To my knowledge, every single culture on Earth has a story about some great individual, or group of individuals, that has made significant changes in their world in the name of a greater good. But what makes this such a ubiquitous concept? Why do humans have stories of superheroes?

Gather `Round. It’s Storytelling Time!

Let’s take a look at a group of characters from my fandoms. Marvel Comics, DC Comics, and Magic: The Gathering. These aren’t all my fandoms, but they’re the one I feel will resonate most with the reader due to the character’s popularity. I would include RWBY or Overwatch but so brevity’s sake, I’ll try and keep it shorter.

Captain America: Sam Wilson

Sam is a powerful voice for minorities in the comics. He wears the shield and he fights for what he thinks is right. But in his fight he discovers the dark side of The United States of America no one really wants to look at or remember. An imperfect judicial system. Shady politicians. Parasitic business people. Flawed penal system.

For each shady politician he exposes, another gets voted in. Every time he crushes a business whose practices are illegal and unethical, it creates a power vacuum that only empowers other parasitic business people. When he looks the U.S. Court system and hopes that he can trust in it. When his friend, Rage, is wrongfully arrested for theft, Sam trusts that the courts will execute justice and let Rage go free.

But Rage is a black man accused of a crime in a jury that wasn’t representative of the local jurisdiction.

Rage never stood a chance.

The prosecutor obliterated him. Rage couldn’t afford a lawyer and was assigned a public defender. But as is too often the case, the defender was so overworked, too spread thin, that he spent less than three hours reviewing the case before going to trial. Even with overwhelming evidence to his innocence, Rage was still found guilty. This is an awful reality that we see all too often. What does this about your judicial system?

When Rage was put in jail he was thrown in superpower prison. In General Population. That’s the same as putting a cop in general population. And exactly what you don’t want to hear, but what you expect, happened. A group of super criminals beat Rage into a pulp. They left him comatose with little chance of survival. What does this say about our penal system?

How does Sam respond when he watches his faith in the U.S. Justice System crumble? He gives up the shield. Sam is embarrassed to wear the flag and shield of his nation. No longer would be fight in the name of a nation he didn’t believe in, that he didn’t trust.

Sam came to realize that fighting the symptoms isn’t going to work. It will become a perpetual cycle. He realized that he needed to treat the disease. The people needed educating. They needed hope. They needed to be spurred into action. And it looks like it’s working. Slowly. But people in New York, in the comics, are starting to accept that they can’t rely on Sam to protect or fight for them. That they have to do their part.

Sam is showing us the ugly side of America. He is showing us that we can’t sit around and hope things work out. Sam Wilson teaches us that we need to treat the disease of this nation, not its symptoms, as a group- without relying and hoping on someone else. That we have to stand up and make the changes from the very bottom of the ladder.

Captain America: Steve Rogers

Captain America became an agent of Hydra because the Red Skull rewrote reality with the Cosmic Cube. Steve became Hydra’s ultimate weapon who was then handed to the United States to let him manipulate it from within. Direct the military towards non-critical targets. To destroy evidence about major operations. Provide Hydra with intel. And who would doubt him? He’s Captain America!

But you know what really stands out? Steve Rogers never changed. His history was rewritten, yes. But Steve remained exactly the same person he has always been. A man who fights for justice, for truth, for peace, for the greater good.

“What? But he’s Hydra!” You might say.

I respond with: “True Hydra, not Red Skull’s Hydra and not Hitler’s Hydra, was originally meant to bring peace to the world.”

Steve believes in what Hydra used to stand for. A unified planet where ALL its people would be protected by a single government whose interests would solely be on the people. In application, yes, this is pretty much impractical. But the point is that Steve wanted that world. He wanted that peace. Steve Rogers has always fought for ideals and for values. Even when he wasn’t a member of Hydra, Steve fought for “truth” and “justice” and “peace”. He fought for what he thought was right. Now he still does the same. He is still fighting for “truth” and “justice” and “peace”. Nothing about the character is different. All he wants is to help the world be a better place. His tactics are different, yes. But his end goal is the same.

The fact that he’s fighting for Hydra puts many people at an uproar. But why? Because we’ve been taught that the world is an “us” versus “them” environment. It’s led us to believe that anyone who takes a different approach or point of view to us is evil. But that’s simply not true. It is that very thought process that is the cause of war and strife all over the world.

In his stories, Steve tries to teach the reader to stop being a mindless sheep. He tries to tell us to open our eyes and think about the world we live in, beyond what we’re told to believe in. Steven Rogers is teaching us that we must never accept something as truth without thinking and researching about it first.

Not just in his story, but in his comic as a whole. People who don’t read his comics hear he’s joined Hydra and what do they do? Clamor and shout about how Marvel has ruined an American Icon about how they have made Steve a Nazi. How many of those people clamoring and shouting, what percentage, have actually gone to their local comic book store and purchased even one Captain America: Steve Rogers comic book?

That. Is. The. Problem. Too many people in America watch a television ad, or see a Tumblr post, and they latch onto it, thinking it to be truth. How many people will go out and research a politician or a political issue before forming an opinion?

I am not saying that I want Hydra’s dream of a tranquil totalitarian regime to come true. I am saying that the function of all of Steve’s stories right now is serving the idea that we need to question what we are told, that we need to research before we speak. Personally, I hope all of Hydra is taken down and that the world, and S.H.I.E.L.D. learn their lesson. I’m not saying I agree with Hydra or it’s goals. All I’m saying is that Marvel, and Steve, are trying to teach us to research before we speak and question what we accept.

Wonder Woman: Princess Diana

Geez I have so much to say about this. Wonder Woman has been amazing.

Recently, Diana had to deal with a major identity crisis. It was so bad, she lost her powers and was admitted into a psychiatric hospital. Do you know how much that means to me? WONDER WOMAN. DEALT. WITH. MENTAL. HEALTH. ISSUES. !!!!!!!!!!!!! Reread that again and again. This woman, so powerful, so beautiful, so strong, so determined... she fell ill to mental illness. What am I trying to say?

Even the most powerful of people can fall victim to mental illness

It’s okay if you admit you are mentally ill. It’s gonna be alright

Mental illness is real problem that ANYONE can deal with

It’s not something that “weak people” deal with

I, who suffer from Severe Depressive Disorder- I who have to take a handful of pills a day just to keep myself sane- look at Diana and realize that it’s okay to be sick. That anyone can get sick. That anyone can endure.

What else can Diana teach us? That women can be powerful. Look at her.

She’s beautiful. She’s sexy. She’s wise. She’s strong. She’s courageous. She stands her ground against gods. She stands her ground against gods.

Here’s the kicker.

Diana does all this without losing her identity as a woman. Not only is she a warrior. She’s a woman too. Diana teaches us that women can be powerful and not lose their femininity.

Aquaman: Arthur Curry

Aquaman has the BEST storytelling I have EVER seen in ANY comic book. EVER. The character development. The story progression. The high stakes. Everything. Aquaman is my favorite character in all of fantasy. Arthur Curry is by far the coolest character ever.

What does Aquaman have to teach me? That I have to stand my ground.

I literally can’t even begin to give you a rundown on the kind of crap he’s had to deal with. I’m serious. On a daily basis, Arthur is saving the world. Let me tell you some of what he has to deal with.

Rebels in Atlantis, wanting to overthrow him

Warmongers on the surface, looking for Atlantian tech

Countries of the world, wanting to nuke Atlantis out of fear

Factions in Atlantis, wanting to flood the world out of fear

Atlantian leadership telling him he can’t marry Mera

The jokes and disrespect many people in the world have for him

The jokes and disrespect many of the Justice League have for him

These are just some of the crap Arthur has to deal with on a daily basis.

Arthur, as King of Atlantis, has to make hard decisions every day. Every. Day. Every single decision he makes can be difference between total annihilation of Atlantis or of the entire surface world. How many decisions do you think the King of Atlantis has to make in a single day?

Try to imagine what that weight is like. One second of hesitation. One moment of anger or frustration. Even one misplaced word or mistake could ruin everything. Arthur teaches me that I have to stand my ground against the weight of the world. Even when EVERYONE wants me to fail, I have to stand and endure. Arthur teaches me that I must have control over my temper. That I have to think before I act. That every choice in my life affects everyone around me, not just myself.

Arthur is literally fighting the entire world at once. And he can’t flinch. He can’t even blink or the world will swallow him up. And you want to know what’s BEST about all of this?

Arthur Curry fights against all of this oppression and his powers can’t help.

Read it again, and read it carefully. Arthur can give Superman bruises, bounce bullets of his flesh, mind manipulate krakens and leviathans, take on the Shaggy Man (A MAJORLY powerful villain that usually takes the whole Justice League to defeat) on his own. And yet... all of that power means nothing when he has to endure against the stress of every day life.

Yes, Arthur is a super hero. But the greatest challenges he faces aren’t ones he has to solve with his fists. They are the ones he must defeat with nothing more than sheer force of will and careful thought.

What an inspiration. What a...wow.

Nissa Revane

Look at Nissa. She’s beautiful. Powerful. And a real butt kicker even without her magic. But you know what else she is? She’s shy. She’s an introvert. She’s quiet. She’s loving. She’s considerate. Nissa is so much love wrapped up in a quiet little package. She doesn’t want thanks. She doesn’t want a reward. All Nissa wants to do is protect the life of every plane because she loves life so dearly that she is willing to break free of her comfort zone, leave to far away strange places, and selflessly and thanklessly help people.

There is nothing in it for her other than to take the time to learn a little more about herself. She’s amazing. Her heart is so big. Yet, she’s fought and defeated eldritch gods, dragon gods, and political tyrants. Never did she want anything in return. She just wanted to help. 

Nissa is still shy. She’s still an introvert. She’s still happy to be in the background. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be an introvert. There is nothing wrong with that.

Wow. What an inspiration. Not only for introverts everywhere. But even for everyone else. If someone as timid as Nissa was able to break out of her comfort zone to do what is right, how could we not choose to do that same?

Gideon Jura

Gideon teaches us that no matter how hard or painful your past has been, you can never give in to the anger inside. Gideon fought for his life, daily, on the streets when he was orphaned at 6 years old. In prison, he fought for survival every day. When he planeswalked away from Theros, he was thrown into a foreign and unfamiliar world. He was alone and afraid on a world he knew nothing about. Gideon lost his mother at 6 and his father walked out on him before he was born. His friends died because of a bad decision he made. The love of his life was nearly executed because he chose to fight for a cause he didn’t fully believe in.

Gideon has suffered so much. And I haven’t even gone into detail on any of this. But what do we learn from him?

Never give up. Never let the anger and the hate destroy you. Even if you think you have every right to do so. Even if the darkness threatens to engulf you. You have to fight. You have to stand back up. And you can always stand back up when you’ve been knocked down.

Humans have been telling stories since even before we had language. Why? Because we need something to look up to. We create these characters who suffer from very real problems but end up enduring or we talk about the amazing feats of real people around us. But at the end of the day, storytelling is critical to the human condition.

Humans NEED storytelling.

I know things are hard for you sometimes. Or even all the time. But listen to me. Listen closely. You. Can. Endure.

You. Can. Endure.

You. Can. Endure.

You. Can. Endure.

YOU. WILL. ENDURE.

But you can’t give up. Look to our storytelling for beacons of hope if you must. No one I mentioned in this article uses their powers to fight against the real problems they deal with. Sam’s fighting prowess won’t fix the American government, courts, or penal system. Steve’s super soldier serum can’t help him teach people to take possession over their own lives. Diana’s powers can’t prevent her from falling to mental illness or help her recover. Arthur’s powers won’t help him make the decisions he needs to make and hold on in the tidal wave of stress those choices bring. Nissa’s powers have nothing to do with her going about spreading love in her own quiet way. Gideon’s powers and fighting skills won’t help him keep his darkness at bay.

Don’t look at these characters and dismiss them as mere fanciful stories. They’re so much more.

As someone who has been to the darkest brink of Depression, who’s stood at the edge of suicide... I can tell you that you can endure. I will not promise you that your life will get better soon. Or that it will be easy. But I will promise you that you can make it through whatever it is that’s hurting you.

I know some of you read this and say “Pssh. Not me. You don’t understand what I’m going through.” Stop it. I know because I have found myself saying the same thing. This isn’t the end. it doesn’t matter how dark you think things are. It doesn’t. I have stood at the brink of suicide and stared at the depths of hell. And it was terrifying. It was so awful. But I survived. I endured. I came back. No. It wasn’t easy. It took months and patience and steely will to crawl out of it. Even now, 5 years later, I still have to deal with my Depression every so often. But I know I can beat it. I defeated it at it worst, so I know I can endure it when it pokes its ugly head out.  Let me promise you something. A truth that will stand despite ANY argument you can make.

You. Will. Endure.

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