#the church uses that by the way. they want you to feel superior and set apart from the rest of the world by virtue of being in the church.

[zemnarihah]

i hate when people who have no real knowledge about mormonism besides like seeing missionaries once in a while and watching the keep sweet doc start talking about it.... someone on my dash is saying that ruby franke did that bc "mormons are just like that" like actually in no religion is it common to torture and starve your children.

[sanctus-ingenium]

answering asks vol 2.

'Smiths' can encompass enginesmiths (mercury), armoursmiths (mars), alchemists (saturn) and some others - generally a smith is someone who works with engines or metal in any capacity, whether by constructing them, managing their fuel, making armour, etc. all of them have a completely degendered role in the church. They are supposed to be wholly devoted to their craft & church, to the point of becoming almost unpeople, sexless.

-

I like pantera :) he's the main character beast sure (alongside leun) but he's got a lot of interesting history and has been through a lot.

To start out I do some basic sketches while looking at bestiary diagrams of the animal type. Then I draw the base proportions over a photo of the animal's skeleton. Once the joints are all in place and I could imagine it moving relatively freely, I pick a motif and design the armour shapes with that in mind (i.e leun's trefoils, taurus's waves). The motifs come from a bunch of sources - if I see them in medieval art around that animal, the beast's use purpose, the culture that built them and how it might differ in art styles to the 'basic' designs from the heart of the Mezian theocracy. Fun stuff like that.

As an exercise I have taken (human) characters from other settings and made holy beast versions of them, trying to imagine what animal it would be, what weapons, what armour designs, etc. Behold, Bowman:

It's a fun exercise! I recommend :>

-

Hi! Thank you for the suggestion! I actually did try to use OneNote for my thesis but I found that it ended up an extra step that got in the way. Instead I organised my reference papers manually (and wrote up all my bibliography by hand as well). I haven't heard of Notion so I might look into it :> as someone with adhd I find that the best way for me is to make it stupid easy, which is why discord works because I already use it for talking with friends and I like the mobile app.

-

SO true!! You can make whatever the hell you want forever and that sounds really cool, I'm glad I was able to help in some little way >:) (although, holy beasts are not robots.. i think the best description for them is just. exotic vehicles.)

-

lmao it's totally fine!! I love to talk

Sir Heaven had such a profoundly negative experience with Leun that he struggles with the concept of making anybody else do what he now considers to be his burden. He also feels that taking any new people inside Leun would endanger them.

The bishop of Salvius cathedral is the guy Heaven answers to, and his superior officer. The bishop has reported the matter to the pope and they're still working hard presenting new potential novices to Sir Heaven, but the thing is that Sir Heaven rejects them for seemingly valid reasons. He doesn't just say 'no I'm not taking apprentices', he says 'this one's reaction speed isn't good enough' or 'this one is too prideful'. But the longer he tries to keep this up, the more suspicion he heaps on his shoulders. If the time came, no, he would not be able to deny a direct order from the pope.

Ketjan was selected at random, one of a large group of other children who were not raised in the church. This is to ensure that there is no per-existing bias or knowledge of how holy beasts work. And he just happened to be the only one of the group who could master Leun's very demanding dialogue tattoo. The recruiting enginesmiths, who designed Leun's systems, were the ones to train him, but Ketjan was the one to write most of the procedures for operating Leun based on feedback from the dialogue.

-

Replies from THIS post:

@ospreyonthemoon @kicks-tiktaalik-back-into-water

Krokodilos had an amazing high-tech ventilation system that used active air pumps to keep it circulating. But exactly like the second reply says, it broke down frequently. And because of how it worked, the interior of croc had to be air-tight so that the pumps could work efficiently. And, of course, if it broke down, and it was air tight on the inside, it instantly became a more dangerous deathtrap than your average passively ventilated beast.

There were valves that could be opened in an emergency but these were only added after the first Incident. The pumps would break down from the fabric seals degrading, lose efficacy, and then the parts furthest from the pumps would suddenly not get enough air anymore because air couldn't be moved such a distance with faulty pumps. The reason his enginesmiths want him to be re-commissioned is because the only barrier was the material used for the seals, and they believe they can innovate some new materials or try something different and have it work. They were even thinking of trying natural rubber, which would have worked perfectly, but they never got approval for it.

[nicklloydnow]

Frankie Boyle's Farewell to the Monarchy

“I didn’t make any jokes when the Queen died. I maintained a strict silence. . . as I tried to sneak back out of her bedroom.

(…)

Famously, the public drew strength from the Royal family staying in London during World War Two. Presumably, they thought the Luftwaffe might hold back if there was a risk they’d bomb their own.

(…)

Richard III in many ways set the tone for what would become the modern, British monarchy: a child-sacrificing cult of violent, ruthless ambition which the British public is happy to tolerate in exchange for a long bank holiday.

(…)

Henry VIII is one of the few husbands Johnny Depp can feel superior to. Only England can watch a man abuse six different women and think “Maybe every school child should learn a rhyme to remember how he did it.” Henry also invented modern divorce and so it’s his fault you’re watching this at home, alone and unloved.

(…)

Every royal coat of arms is richly symbolic. For example, before he became King, Prince Charles’ crest showed a lion mounting another lion while a horse looks patiently on. Whereas the Duke of York’s shows a lion paying twelve millions pounds to a sex-trafficked lion cub that the lion claims it never met. And from Queen Elizabeth I, today’s royals learned a valuable lesson: understand your own symbolic function. Elizabeth, in a time of conflict between Catholicism and Protestantism, understood that by presenting herself as a sort of Virgin Mary incarnate, she could dilute those tensions. And indeed, she went on to shape the worship that took place in the Anglican Church, creating a sort of Catholicism for pussies.

(…)

Victoria had her first sight of Scotland after arriving by ship at Leith. If ever a four-foot-eleven woman with nine kids and clinical depression was going to feel at home, it was going to be in Leith.

(…)

With conditions miserable for many Brits, Queen Victoria did the obvious and spread that misery around the world, much like a U2 tour.

(…)

Personally, I try to deal with the injustice of the British monarchy in my own, small way; giving swans bread soaked in LSD to try and liberate them from their mental shackles.

(…)

Conspiracy theories about the royal family being lizards disguises the fact that they’re something even worse: a slightly dim German family to whom we’ve inexplicably given billions of pounds.

(…)

I used to be outraged by the British class system, how it destroys lives. Then I bought a ‘Live Laugh Love’ magnet for my fridge. Now it all just washes over me. The monarchy is ending. When that happens, let’s not be bitter. Let’s get out in the streets and raise a bottle to them. . . filled with petrol and a burning rag.”

“Is the Coronation going to be a flop? It is impossible to be sure as we know so little about it, but far too many of the signs are bad. How can things go well when the official food for the occasion is a sort of vegetarian flan?

Will our new King be dedicating his life to God, as his mother did, or to Net Zero, as he seems to want to do? How Christian will the ceremony be? I am all for welcoming other faiths, but it is our Christian laws, customs, culture and civilisation which have drawn so many to come to live here. And I believe it is our Anglican settlement which creates the tolerant space in which other beliefs rightly flourish among us.

Few people realise that we are the last nation in the world to have such a ceremony. The other remaining kings and queens of Europe have low-key inaugurations, about as majestic as the induction of a new head teacher.

Ours is a ritual of memory, power, loyalty and acclaim, stretching back a thousand years into the very origins of Christian Europe. And if you read the order of service from the 1953 event, or watch the film of it, you will get a strong sense that the monarchy of the time was not ashamed to exist.

(…)

When the Queen died last year, I was moved enough to queue for hours to see her lying-in-state. But I have never forgiven the authorities for the muffled, underpowered ceremonies surrounding her death. This was the most important death since that of Winston Churchill in 1965 – which was marked by a great triumph worthy of the Roman Empire and ending with crowds lining the railway tracks as he was carried home on a steam train to the heart of the countryside of the nation he saved.

(…)

Well, I shall never be a Royal adviser. Charles long ago decided I was unacceptable and cancelled a meeting he had originally wanted to have with me, because his politically correct aides warned him against it. But if I had gone, I should have said to him, and say again now, that it is no use trying to please or placate the enemies of the Crown. Do what you like. Submit to taxes, embrace political correctness, wear a mask and sit alone at your own spouse’s low-key funeral, cut back on the pomp, sideline your embarrassing relatives. It will do no good.

The radicals who rule the country see all such moves as signs of weakness. And those who treasure a thousand years of majesty know that it will not last much longer if it carries on like this.”

[carbo-ships]

Chapter XI

Beginning: Chapter I Previous: Chapter X

The experiment had finally come to a close. The results had been ruled in favor of the angels—Ardis had remained devout. The members of the Satanic Church's clergy were less than pleased, but no member of the Ghost project particularly cared. Ardis had very quickly become a dear friend, and they only wanted what was best for her. There had been tearful goodbyes at the end of her stay, especially between her and Papa. He'd become so fond of her and wasn't looking forward to the extra seat being removed from the dinner table.

Aether was the last to say goodbye. The past few weeks between them had been interesting, to say the least. There was a mutual understanding that no matter how they felt about one another, it would never work. Her time there was limited. They could be friends, and nothing more. However, that didn't make the feelings go away. He'd still teased her during rehearsals, taken her hand during walks through the garden, and held her snugly against his chest at night.

Ardis gave him a tight hug goodbye, burying her face in his chest. Aether nuzzled the top of her head, sighing solemnly as he hugged her back. "I would love to see you again," he said with a sad smile as he let her go and took her hands in his. "If you ever find yourself back on Earth, you will be welcomed here with open arms."

"I'd like that. I'll miss you," she sniffled, trying to keep a smile on her face.

"I'll miss you, too." He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he didn't want to make this any harder for her than it had to be.

That had been months ago. Life at the church had largely moved on. Everyone's focus was now on making sure the new ghoulette was getting settled properly, but Aether still found himself getting distracted by fond memories. He missed hearing her lovely mezzo-soprano voice chime in to her favorite songs during rehearsals, and taking his mask off before bed felt wrong now.

After mass one Sunday evening, the ghouls were lingering outside the chapel to mingle with the parishioners. Aether had positioned himself by the garden gate to wish people well as they went on their way. He nodded and smiled, going through the motions, when he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted a familiar halo.

"Ardis?!" he gasped, the parishioners forgotten as he whipped around. "What— What are you—" He scooped her into his arms in a big hug and lifted her off the ground. She laughed, throwing her arms around him. "Mia cara ragazza! Oh, amore mia, mi sei mancato così tanto!" When he finally set her down, he cupped her face in his hands. "Cara, what in the world are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was just in the area," she joked, smiling up at him. "My supervisors think I made you all soft," she explained, "and that if you're all so keen to have me back, they'd love for me to pop by every now and then. Something about me being a good influence on you."

Aether's heart was racing. He'd reluctantly accepted that he would never see her again, but there she was, smiling up at him like she used to do. It felt right. "Wait until Papa sees you!" Aether laughed, taking her hand to lead her to the chapel. He was so excited that he didn't even care about the way his tail was wagging, or that the church members were staring. "Stay for dinner, won't you?"

"If you'll have me," she grinned.

"And breakfast?" he asked hopefully.

She blushed slightly. "I'm sure my superiors wouldn't mind."

He smiled at her warmly. "Good."

Next: Chapter XII

[angeltreasure]

First of all, I want to say thank you for your post and taking the time to respond in that way. I appreciate it so much! 🥺

It is definitely one of those things that I often do feel peace about and I don’t really care in all honesty but then people like the ones making those comments come up and it hits me like bricks and I feel sick because, even though I’m going to God and not people it can feel like they just have this superior complex that makes it hard to even feel welcome in a church or Christian type setting :(

Your post really did make me feel so much more at peace though and the other anon saying about their tattoos is something that I have felt and I’m in the process of getting one removed which is almost gone but the other I want gone will cost quite a bit of money so it’s like ugh, I guess I just didn’t want to feel like I needed this immediately gone in order to live a full Christian life if you get me? 😅 and like I say, it’s so frustrating because realistically I know so many Christian’s in my life w tattoos and that God sees the heart anyway and he is amazing but it’s crazy how having people online chalk like that can cause such pain 🙈

You’re welcome!!

As Christians, we have a special way of dealing with pain. It may sound a little confusing if you never heard it before, but we Christians can unite any pain and suffering we have to Jesus on the cross. That means, for example, you can offer up the pain as prayer to God, from the pains of tattoo removal to the persecution of people talking about you online. No prayer goes to waste. When we unite our pain to Jesus on the cross, we may not be able to see the blessing it brings in this life but when we pass to the afterlife God will reveal how He turned our prayer to help you or someone that needed it most. Don’t let the voices of others get you down.

I think you absolutely don’t need any tattoo immediately gone before getting Baptized. Don’t feel pressured at all. In fact, you could even use it as part of your story to others. ‘Once I was one way, and here was the tattoos I had back then but now I am different because I am saved/I will be saved soon. This is what these tattoos mean…’. Maybe you could help others who are in your shoes feel more comfortable to find God or return to Him. It is true that He alone knows your heart.

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand— when I awake, I am still with you. - Psalm 139:13-17

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday!

Venetian blinds were invented in Japan.

A one dollar bill has been in an average of 3 bras.

Houses in Britain numbered 13 cost £9,000 less than average.

In the 1940s, butt plugs were marketed as a headache remedy.

There has only been 240 years of peace in the last 3000 years.

It would take 23 bales of straw to break a camel's back.

Open plan offices increase worker stress, blood pressure and turnover.

In the United States, giving birth is 20 times more lethal than skydiving.

In 2004, a boat in Texas capsized because everyone ran to one side to look at a nudist beach.

In 2012, a smuggler was arrested at the Smuggler’s Inn, Washington, after arriving in a car with the licence plate SMUGLER.

One outbreak of Legionnaires' disease was traced to the hot tub at the Playboy mansion.

In Alabama, it is illegal to wear a fake moustache that causes laughter in church.

Brad Pitt was banned from China for 20 years after his role in the film ‘Seven Years In Tibet’.

A survey in Colorado found people are much happier if they believe they are having more sex than their neighbours.

Japanese researchers have concluded that cats do recognize the sound of their owner’s voice when called … they just don't care.

The novel 'All Quiet On The Western Front' was banned in Poland for being pro-German and in Germany for being anti-German.

On busy Chinese trains, passengers take turns on the seats so everyone gets to sit for some of the journey.

In the Middle Ages, a lovesick man could be prescribed ‘therapeutic intercourse’, whereas a lovesick woman was prescribed marriage.

Christie’s auctioneers are taught to stop their hands shaking with nerves by clenching their buttocks.

80% of the UK’s bread is made by a process so nutritionally barren that vitamins must be added back in by law.

Dog lovers tend to have more Facebook friends than cat lovers, but cat lovers get invited to more parties.

On D-Day, J. D. Salinger fought with six chapters of ‘The Catcher In The Rye’ in his backpack.

The belief that ideas from the past are by default worse than ideas of the modern age is called ‘chronological snobbery’.

In the public toilets at Rothesay, there is a plaque indicating which urinal was used by the then Prince Charles when he visited.

Great Ormond Street Hospital have recreated their site in Minecraft to help kids who want to explore the building so that it’s less scary when they arrive.

John Shepherd-Barron the inventor of the ATM originally intended them to have PINs that were six digits long, but his wife could only remember four digits at a time, so that became the standard.

In 2016, Microsoft set up a Twitter chatbot that could learn to converse based on what people told it. It was using swear words by the next morning.

The annual ‘Bad Sex In Fiction’ award was cancelled for 2020, as the organisers believed that the public had been "subjected to too many bad things” that year to justify exposing it to bad sex as well.

Google Image search was invented after Jennifer Lopez’s green dress at the 2000 Grammys became their most popular ever search, but they had no way of providing users with a quick result.

A study has shown that birds that live in colder places have smaller beaks. McGill University’s blog published an article about the study with the headline ‘Peckers Get Smaller Where It Gets Colder’.

Every year, Lake Superior University publishes a list of words and phrases they would like to banish the next year. This year's entries include "moving forward", "does that make sense?" and "it is what it is".

In 2006, 84-year-old Edith Macefield from Seattle refused a $1 million offer from a shopping mall developer to move, so it was built around her house. In fact, Pixar's film ‘Up’ was later modelled after her home.

The first recorded attempted human flight with artificial wings in history was in the 6th century in China. Emperor Kao Yang would strap prisoners to kites and throw them off buildings to see if they could fly.

When HMS Dolphin stopped in Tahiti in 1767, the sailors found that local women were prepared to exchange sex for iron nails. The captain ordered a stop to the trade as the significant loss of nails from the ship had massively compromised its structural integrity.

Compound swears like ‘shitgibbon’ work best when the second word is a two-syllable word, where the first syllable is stressed and contains the same vowel of the swear. This is why ‘cockwomble’ works but ‘dickwomble’ does not.

Centre Point was constructed between 1963 and 1966. It was one of the first skyscrapers in London. It stood empty from the time of its completion (1966) until 1975. In 1995 it became a Grade II listed building.

The shortest commercial flight in the world is from the Westray Airport to the Papa Westray Airport between two small Orkney Islands north of Scotland. It's only a distance of 1.7 miles and, if the wind is ideal, it can take as little as 47 seconds from start to finish.

A Dutch supermarket chain introduced ‘slow checkouts’ for people who enjoy chatting, helping many people, especially the elderly, deal with loneliness. The move has proven so successful that they installed the ‘slow checkouts’ in 200 stores.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

[itslouisan]

Me rambling about the writing process of my manga when it involves gods, deity and slight religion mentions

Hi so...first official post in here? Well my introduction post is almost done, I wanted to kinda ramble, talk and see if other indie authors for novels, mangas, and writing in general have a similar problem to me.

My manga "The illusion of life and death" or "Shinigami despair and hope" has an original fictional world, I'm talking about species, languages, countries, magic, science, technology, EVERYTHING different and (a little too complex) deities that make this world work.

So just before I start my talk about the subject, TW: religious trauma mention, religious stuff, if you are sensitive to such topics or hate on people for their beliefs ditch this post right now.

Under the cut for my religious beliefs and how I'm handling writing a story with it.

I'm Brazilian, aka a country that even with a lot of mixed beliefs, ethnicity and so on, in the front page "open" to everything, is violent and VERY stuck in the past. Brazil handles a lot of social and economic problems but in my vision the biggest one (and one I suffered from in an early age) is that Brazil is Christianity centered. God is a fundamental part in the culture, literature, beliefs, politics, history, but especially how you live. Since I was able to walk I was put to christian settings and traditions, forced under my grandparents to believe "faith is everything, your only salvation is God, you need to believe in him or you'll be unhappy forever and anything that falls off on what church teaches you is wrong" which wasn't only I but a common problem, the only reason I didn't go to catholic school was my dad being against it and so was my mom. With that being said I'm 16, a short life spam but in all these years NONE of my interactions with any religion were positive, from my family forcing it on me, to bullying in school, relationships and friendships falling because of it, simply because since age 10, I'm an atheist (and proud of it).

Which is because even though yes regardless of religion many people accept people like me, trans, LGBTQA+, neurodivergent and so on, but unfortunately all I heard in general in my life was that the only reason I'm unhappy and suffer is because of lack of faith, which isn't it funny? That faith is SO important in ones life you should abandon everything for it and your happiness should be devotion? Idk sounds like a red flag to me. But also because in Brazil (a violent country with social issues so bad you can't escape it no matter how much you try) creates a sense of needing to hide what you are, mask, blend and force yourself to believe or pretend to others, live a lie. Which creates situations to people like me being afraid of going to school, or being harassed, or even having the small chance of dying due to extremism.

And believe me the stereotype of the unhappy atheist that converts later and becomes SUPER happy is so displeasing. Why can't media show that 1- being atheist isn't our main personality trait or something we talk like we are superior 2- doesn't mean we are depressed and unhappy 3- that we live normal lives 4- that depression and problems comes due to people AROUND US and the system we live and not our beliefs.

So yeah, even though I try to write the most inclusive possible characters, manga, novels and so on, due to my (small) religious trauma and bias of thinking religion did WAY more harm than good in the world and history and how we behave, I have this issue with my own world in fiction.

How I handle my gods, religion and so on in MY manga and why I do so

I try to be inclusive since my goal in life is to create a safe space, make others feel safe, escape from our reality and think about our world and why it is the way it is in a fun way, in my fictional world magic came due to the existence of gods, goddesses, deities and so on due to human beliefs, magic was always real, but it only started manifesting when the humankind (which mind is really powerful) started to believe in it and manifest it so much that slowly it entered the world.

There's around 14 gods and so on, 7 mini ones and 14 representatives, and they are very important to the order in this world, yet, I feel like a hypocrite and uncomfortable with it sometimes, because it makes it seem they are NEEDED, faith is CRUCIAL to the magic existing, and well in my manga one of the messages I wanted to portray is that you don't need faith, or extremism or anything to be strong, you need to believe in yourself, want to change, install that same want and change slowly in your life AND evolve knowing you ARE already stronger than you give yourself credit, that yes the universe is infinite and vast, but doesn't mean you need to worship it to be happy, get it? And even if you do have the faith it shouldn't blur your judgment and lifestyle entirely, after all, if you only don't do anything bad due to fear of punishment, you aren't a good person, you are just afraid.

How am I solving this? Simple, I realized that HEY I dictate the rules in here, if in the same world a book can shift your reality, 2D, 3D, 4D and so on can coexist and interact and a frickin onion is powerful, why can't the deities be flawed? After all my biggest issue with Christianity is, why would God care for YOU specifically? And even so, if he is SO GOOD, powerful and omnipresent only wanting to do good for the planet, why he let humanity be this fucked up?

My deities are flawed, they are just like humans, the difference is that they were born with a power bigger than anyone else, thus they evolve, learn, make mistakes, are selfish and so on, influencing our world but hey, what do they know or don't know? We are like a rock in the shoe for some of them, or a pet, or a lab rat, or a random accident, or a bunch of small children in the classroom they need to watch over.

But hey, that's just how I deal with it I guess..

If anyone wants to discuss it (peacefully please) or has a similar experience, please let me know

[wolint]

FRESH MANNA

FIX YOURSELF FIRST

Matthew 7:1-5

Fix yourself first before wanting to fix others! You need to see clearly to fix others! We’ve all tried at some time to fix someone or something we think needs fixing and felt it was our responsibility to fix them, even when we are guilty of the same flaw.

We are a nation and society that sets standards for all things for others to follow but does not submit to our set standards.

We express and demand our expectations from people but dance to our tune without conforming to that demand.

We are a generation of “do as I say, not as I do!”

We are so focused on trying to shape people into our standardized mould that we often don’t see the hypocrisy in our actions. Sometimes, we are either worse than the person we’re trying to change, or we fail to see that what we want to change is a reaction to what we expressed.

The metaphor of a log in your eye is an overstatement, of course, it’s impossible to have a physical log in one's eyes, then will we see clearly to take the speck out of other peoples’ eyes. Jesus is saying here that only the person who feels grieved and humbled over his sin can help remove the “speck” from others.

“Take the speck off your eyes...we know how discomforting it is when something gets in our eye, even dust, and we know how desperate we get to get it out and to see clearly. Unfortunately, this is the state of so many who think they have a sound vision to see those who they believe need to be fixed or changed, without realising that they are the issue.

Fix yourself first, before you try to fix others!

Who says you or I need fixing anyway?

Who determines what and why we need to be fixed or changed?

Everyone is trying to tell us how to think, speak, dress, act, and look. Work wants you to fit into the set mould. Family and friends try to direct your very existence and the body of Christ (the church) wants to be the one directing you.

Everyone is a critique! If we go with Romans 2:1 and combine it with our text, we’ll notice how judgemental we are as a person and a society. Yes, God wants us to judge, but righteously, rebuking what is wrong and evil that encourages sin and unrighteousness and not from a place of condemnation, self-righteousness, and superiority.

Our judgment of others is very harsh and wounding, it comes from an unkind and hypocritical spirit based on appearance, and external expectations, which is exactly what Luke 6:37 says not to do.

We want to fix those who appear broken to us without fixing the roots. We want them to fit our mould for our sake to make them worthy of our attention and love. Yet, Mark 12:31 says to love our neighbours as ourselves, which means, to fix ourselves for the better first, before attempting to fix others. What we should be doing is examining ourselves to know why we want to fix people and try to change them.

I say remove the huge plank in your eyes, to see clearly, before you try to remove the toothpick in someone else’s eyes! With the plank in our eyes, we can't see at all to help or fix anyone.

If we are not willing to evaluate ourselves honestly and accurately, we undermine the right to scrutinize the lives of others. Jesus said, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For, in the same way, you judge others, you will be judged”

It is judgmental however you look at it when we feel fixing people in whatever capacity is what is required for them to associate with us. Check yourself, fix yourself first before you fix others!

PRAYER: Righteous Judge and Father, help me never to be harsh, unforgiving judgemental to people around me but to be gentle toward everyone in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Shalom

WOMEN OF LIGHT INT PRAYER MIN.

[locustheologicus]

Read Pope Francis’ response to the dubia presented to him by 5 cardinals

The issue presented here is with regards to five fairly traditional (in some case, notoriously so) Cardinals over question that they feel Pope Francis’ papacy is leaving unclear or possibly changing. The questions regarding openess to the issue of homosexuality, marriage, priestly celibacy and women’s role in the Church.

The unfortunate truth is that the way these questions are offered and their expected response is based on the traditional fallacy of the false dilemma. They are carefully crafted questions loaded with terms that if you answer with either yes or no will lead to a suggestion that his policies go again may the traditional policy of the Church. My guess is that they are looking to catch him with these questions and identify him as a progressive pontiff who is breaking with tradition. They are attempting to create a pharisaic scandal. The type of legal maneuver that the Pharisees presented Christ in an attempt to get him, but instead Christ would respond with a parable.

But in reading Pope Francis' response he is not delivering parables (what I consider case studies) but he is clarifying and presenting the complexity of the Church's pastoral role and reminding them of the contribution of process theology which has been part of the Church's tradition (in one form or the other) and allowed the Church to adapt to social questions and issues from the beginning. Think of how the Church responded to St. Paul's concern regarding the gentiles. Our ability to engage culture and adapt to it can even be considered a mark of the Church, certainly the pastoral Church.

In responding to the questions, Pope Francis reminded his critics that the Church has recognized the two forms of divine revelation that have always been part of the Church's source for doctrinal interpretation.

the magisterium is not superior to the word of God, but it is also true that both the texts of Scripture and the testimonies of tradition need an interpretation that allows us to distinguish their perennial substance from cultural conditioning.

This obviously will not satisfy his detractors who are using the logical fallacy to pigeonhole the pontiff.

Our tradition had always recognized the two book of revelation. Scripture and nature. Nature expresses the divine intelligence and we Catholics are called to reflect on the wisdom of God in these pages and how they consistenly reflect the wisdom found in Sacred Scripture. Experience, tradition, and reason, these offer divine wisdom that allows us the interpret the Divine Law. As St. Augustine tells us:

Some people, in order to discover God, read books. But there is a great book: the very appearance of created things. Look above you! Look below you! Note it. Read it. God, whom you want to discover, never wrote that book with ink. Instead He set before your eyes the things that He had made. Can you ask for a louder voice than that? -St. Augustine, “City of God” Book XVI

Dialogue on issues are an important aspect of our doctrinal development. Sadly our Vatican I approach attempted to give an image of the Church that is doctrinally perfect and unbending and this is the lens that helps us understand the approach that some of our more traditional clergy seem to understand. They still see the tradition of the Church from the lens of Vatican I. Vatican II brought us back to the original format which is a Church that dialogues, explores and adapts with the changing social situation. That is why Pope Francis tells us that we are no ready for Vatican III, because we are still adjusting to the contributions of Vatican II.

We will get there, but in the meantime let us remember the life giving tradition that is very much part of our doctrinal development.

Of course, the main question that was posed to the Holy Father was about his opinion on same-sex marriage. You can read his response, but spoiler alert, he supports the Church's traditional sacramental position.

But, he does challenge his critics and the traditionalists out there that pastoral charity is the Christian teaching that they fail to recognize.

In dealing with people, however, we must not lose the pastoral charity that must permeate all our decisions and attitudes. The defense of objective truth is not the only expression of this charity, which is also made up of kindness, patience, understanding, tenderness, and encouragement. Therefore, we cannot become judges who only deny, reject, exclude.

Through the lens of pastoral charity, Pope Francis is open to the idea that blessings may be offered for same-sex unions. But he does explain this distinction (blessings versus sacrament). I recommend that everyone read his actual responses within the spirit of Christian charity.

[darspeaksout]

I Don’t Have It In Me To Forgive You

Darwin, are you gay? You gotta confirm that.

This conversation happened in the bedroom of my childhood home, probably about seven years ago. It’s hard to say exactly when. We had a church event that night so you had stopped by my house so we could carpool to the venue together. I had to be in a good mood and put a smile on for these strangers, pretending like you didn’t just pry yourself into the sensitive parts of my identity a couple hours ago. It was that same night, as I found myself sleepless in bed, that I decided that I wouldn’t have you over at my house anymore.

Your cousin, who was my classmate, told me you had seen me at my part-time job but that you didn’t say hi. Apparently you saw I was busy serving customers and didn’t want to disturb. I chuckled when I found out. When has my being busy, or my being gay, ever stopped you from inserting yourself into the picture?

I graduated high school and moved on to university. Because my campus was near the house I had spent most of my life, I was a commuter student. It was sometime in my first or second year when I was on my way home that I ran into you, still in your high school uniform, as you were a few years my junior. We’re both Filipino so it baffled me how you could talk to your elders like that. I exited at my usual bus stop and proceeded to walk to my house. On the sidewalk, you were coming from the opposite end. I remember I had gotten a haircut a few days prior, I was wearing my best trench coat, it was a sunny day and one of my essays had been graded an A plus. I felt glorious - and in the best possible mood to run into an enemy. 

We saw each other in passing and exchanged a brief hello. Actually, it was you who said hello. All I did was nod in your direction and kept walking. You looked awkward, guilty almost - as if acknowledging my presence was as grave as an insult. Don’t worry, you can look. Making eye contact with me won’t make you gay.

I remember you were walking with a girl. Was she your girlfriend? I never knew. It was none of my business so I never bothered asking. That’s the difference between you and me - I know to mind my own business. Just as on the day you demanded to know my sexual orientation, I wondered if you still felt superior having a girl by your side and knowing that that will never be a possibility for me. Did you feel big? Did you feel macho? Did you feel all the things you wanted to feel as a straight man who looks down on gay people? Before, you wouldn’t have hesitated to shake my hand, give me a hug even, upon seeing me at our church events. Now, you hardly get a glance out of me. And I only say your name when I recount this story to better friends as I introduce you as the homophobic prick, the cousin of my high school classmate, who thought he could interrogate my identity out of me. Well, you never got your answer, at least not directly. And any chance you had at becoming my “brother-in-Christ” as all those hypocrites from church liked to call it, you had squandered it all. I hope your masculine entitlement was worth it. 

When I reached my house, I made a cup of coffee and basked in my academic success, my newfound passion for learning, and my good fortune of having crossed paths with you for a brief moment. If you didn’t know it then, you knew it now: I don’t need you, I never did, and I’m better off without you. Since that day on the sidewalk, I haven’t seen you since. I wonder if you were able to connect the dots and realize that that conversation in my bedroom had everything to do with the boundary I set between us. It’s not an accident that we drifted apart or that I appeared less warm and inviting; it was always my intention to keep you out after how you disrespected me. I would see you at events and engage only if we were put in the same group. Just by being in your vicinity, I felt I needed to wash my hands. When you judged me for being gay, just know I judged you even more and lost even more respect for you for being homophobic. 

Sometimes, I think about how I would respond if we suddenly crossed paths again and you were to say sorry. The reason I think this is not totally impossible is because other people who have treated me similarly have made the effort to reach out and apologize. People grow and mature; neither you nor I are exempt from this. But those people who’ve said sorry were just bystanders and never the bullies themselves. While it’s true that standing by enables and perpetuates poor behavior, it’s not the source of it. And that’s why I can usually forgive a bystander but not the perpetrator.

I can, and I have, forgiven a lot of people for a lot of things. I have hurt people and have been forgiven, too. But if you were to ever say sorry, I honestly don’t think I’d have it in me to forgive you. The question you asked in my room felt like an attack. It felt like you were sizing me up and down, determining my worth as a human being based on who I’m attracted to. You gotta confirm that, Darwin. I don’t need to confirm anything to you. The only thing confirmed here is that you’re not a friend of mine, and I don’t care if you’re the relative of one of my best friends. You were judging me just as how the guys did in elementary school, who later followed me to high school, who I’ve lost touch with since, but whose impact I still feel on the days I find it particularly hard to love myself. Even now as an adult, I still have those days. And seven years later, with a whole degree, a new career, social circle, hobbies, and identity, I still think back to the words you had said. In my own home, my own bedroom too - you made me feel defenseless. It felt like any progress I had made to accept myself was set back by several years. If you were to say sorry now, I would let you know that I heard your apology. I received it. But I can’t confirm that I’ve truly accepted it. When it comes to the subject of my identity, it’s a non-negotiable.

People often remark how “brave” I am whenever I open up about this, as if bravery has anything to do with it. I don’t know if I’m brave or if I’m just angry. Angry at guys who think they can talk down to me and angry at myself for having not said a word in my own defense. Before, I was afraid. Now, I would give those people Hell. I figured, if these homophobes will never respect me anyway, I can treat them how they treated me and I’ll have nothing to lose.

I am not above being forgiven for things I’ve done. But I’ve also never taken someone’s identity, be it gender-related or otherwise, and used it against them. If anything, I have criticized people’s actions. But anything related to their personhood I have never attacked. And that’s why I feel I don’t need God’s blessing, or anyone’s blessing for that matter, to exercise my right to choose not to forgive you and to choose to never see you again. And beyond not forgiving you, I want you to suffer for it too.

Please see me when you’re out on dates with girls. Please see me in the sidelines at your basketball games. Please see me in the pews at your wedding. Please see me in your son when he comes home from kindergarten and tells you he has a crush on a boy. Please see me in the news whenever gay men are harassed, imprisoned, killed, and whenever we sing, shout, and laugh. Please see me enough times until you see I’m a person just like you who is alive and will one day die. Please see me in this lifetime because I can’t guarantee I’ll get to heaven.

And if you do make it to heaven and you don’t see me there, tell your god, the god who hates gays, that I said hi.

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 316

John 1:4

UNITY OF THE BODY 19 – RACISM IN CHURCH? 2

1Co 1:10 I urge you, my brothers and sisters, FOR THE SAKE OF THE NAME OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST, TO AGREE TO LIVE IN UNITY WITH ONE ANOTHER AND PUT TO REST ANY DIVISION THAT ATTEMPTS TO TEAR YOU APART. BE RESTORED AS ONE UNITED BODY LIVING IN PERFECT HARMONY. Form a consistent choreography among yourselves, HAVING A COMMON PERSPECTIVE WITH SHARED VALUES. TPT

Racism is the prejudice that members of one race are intrinsically superior to members of other races. It is also the discriminatory or abusive behaviour towards members of another race.

Why we have to talk about Racism still, even when we have talked about Segregation, is because racism is harmful and deadly, being an offshoot of segregation itself.

Adolf Hitler arranged the Murder of over 6 million Jews because he despised that race as weaklings.

Phil 2:3 DO NOTHING FROM FRACTIONAL MOTIVES [THROUGH CONTENTIOUSNESS, STRIFE, SELFISHNESS OR FOR UNWORTHY ENDS] OR PROMPTED BY CONCEIT OR EMPTY ARROGANCE. Instead, IN THE TRUE SPIRIT OF HUMILITY (LOWLINESS OF MIND) LET EACH REGARD THE OTHER AS BETTER THAN AND SUPERIOR TO HIMSELF [thinking more highly of one-another than you do of yourself]. AMP

This was preached to Born again Christians, so that should tell you that such issues you see with Hitler, have tendencies in Church, because it is the same Adamic nature that ruled Hitler that you have in every man born of a woman.

Until the true “CROSS” experience, the Adamic nature still rules many.

The only difference is that Christians can pretentiously manage and cover their fleshly tendencies, but eventually, it explodes and we see murderous tendencies all over the church.

Jas 3:16 So wherever JEALOUSY AND SELFISHNESS are UNCOVERED, you will also find many troubles and EVERY KIND OF MEANNESS. TPT

Did you notice the word “Uncovered”? the “bottled-up” Adamic nature suddenly explodes and “all hell breaks loose”.

This is what happens when the Church fails to preach Christ and The Cross of Calvary (I Cor 2:2).

What causes Jealousy?

When the one who is of “lower status” also feels that Mr. “Higher status” is too full of himself.

You just see there’s no difference between both parties; they are all full of Mr. flesh.

Pro 13:10 THE ONLY EFFECT OF PRIDE IS FIGHTING; but wisdom is with the quiet in spirit. BBE

Someone in church only said something that “hurts your Pride” and you manage – in the name of Christianity and wanting to sustain a good impression about yourself – to bottle up your bitterness.

You pretend to forgive because it is the civil thing to do, but inside, you wish that person dead. At least, maybe not you, but a voice [in your mind] suggests seeing harm come to that person, and it feels good to you.

Jas 3:14-16 But IF YOU ARE BITTERLY JEALOUS AND FILLED WITH SELF-CENTERED AMBITION, DON'T BRAG. DON'T SAY THAT YOU ARE WISE WHEN IT ISN'T TRUE. That kind of wisdom doesn't come from above. It belongs to this world. IT IS SELF-CENTERED AND DEMONIC. WHEREVER THERE IS JEALOUSY AND RIVALRY, THERE IS DISORDER AND EVERY KIND OF EVIL. GW

We lie to ourselves that “our spirit” warns us to dissociate from certain people, but we probably have ambitions to be set above everybody else and celebrated the loudest.

When that fails or is threatened, we become ferocious.

Racism always draws lines and prepares harmful tendencies. Some even pray for evil to befall their “rivals”, who indeed, are fellow Christians.

Are they not murderers?

Gal 5:15 BUT IF YOU ACT LIKE WILD ANIMALS, HURTING AND HARMING EACH OTHER, THEN WATCH OUT, OR YOU WILL COMPLETELY DESTROY ONE ANOTHER. GNB

But how do these things start?

I don’t think that Christians just up and become Racist deliberately; there must have been a way satan “sold” some of us the “seed” and it was bought.

Let’s inspect, shall we?

These things take effect very subtly.

Have you ever joined a church or large group and you felt like: “I don’t want to get lost in the crowd; let me find someone or group with common goals with mine”?

1Co 11:18-19 I’ve been told many times that WHEN YOU MEET AS A CONGREGATION, DIVISIONS AND CLIQUES EMERGE—and to some extent, this doesn’t surprise me. DIFFERENCES OF OPINION ARE UNAVOIDABLE, YET THEY WILL REVEAL WHICH ONES AMONG YOU TRULY HAVE GOD’S APPROVAL. TPT

The moment we start looking for groups, class or isolated units in Church, we start drawing lines of segregation and division; we start surreptitiously looking for uniqueness and supremacy, and definitely, we get to despise others we soon see as a competition.

Racism is setting in, and soon, silent but obvious wars starts and the Church could become a battle ground, while we could feel so righteous about it all.

Mat 16:11-12 How could you not understand that I was not speaking to you about bread? But BEWARE OF THE YEAST OF THE PHARISEES AND SADDUCEES!” Then they understood that he had not told them to be on guard against the yeast in bread, BUT AGAINST THE TEACHING OF THE PHARISEES AND SADDUCEES.NET

By the time Jesus arrived on earth, the leadership of the Church had factions: Pharisees & Sadducees.

They were totally divided on Ground of beliefs and opinions.

Sadducees did not believe in resurrection, but even the Pharisees who did, had serious doctrinal and Character issues needing corrections.

Mat 22:34=35 THE PHARISEES LEARNED THAT JESUS HAD MADE THE SADDUCEES LOOK SO FOOLISH THAT THEY STOPPED TRYING TO ARGUE WITH HIM. So the Pharisees had a meeting. THEN ONE OF THEM, AN EXPERT IN THE LAW OF MOSES, ASKED JESUS A QUESTION TO TEST HIM. GNB

As we’ve said: Cliques, factions, groups, will soon fester and become Racist and there will be wars.

Act 23:6-8 When Paul saw that SOME of the council members were Sadducees and others were Pharisees, he shouted, "My friends, I am a Pharisee and the son of a Pharisee. I am on trial simply because I believe that the dead will be raised to life." AS SOON AS PAUL SAID THIS, the PHARISEES and the SADDUCEE GOT INTO A BIG ARGUMENT, and the COUNCIL MEMBERS STARTED TAKING SIDES. The Sadducees do not believe in angels or spirits or that the dead will rise to life. But the Pharisees believe in all of these, CEV

May we all attain Perfect and unconditional Unity in the body of Jesus Christ, in Jesus name.

Join us on Monday for more digging in as we proceed with this enlightening subtopic.

Keep Shinning!

Brother Prince

Friday, February 17, 2023

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Piano Buying Tips: 10 Common Mistakes People Make When Buying A Piano

Piano Buying Tips - 10 Mistakes to Look Out For

Purchasing a first piano can be fairly intimidating, especially if you don’t already have a lot of experience with pianos.

Fortunately, here at Merriam Pianos, we’ve seen the piano purchasing process through with literally thousands of customers since our inception, from beginners to concert-level piano players, so we can safely say we know a thing or two about what people ought to look for when buying a piano.

Today, we’re going to tackle the 10 mistakes shoppers often make when buying a piano. We feel this list should be helpful to anybody who's embarking on the process of selecting an instrument for their home, school, church, studio or wherever it may be.

Avoiding these common mistakes will go a very long way in ensuring your long-term satisfaction with the instrument you end up choosing.

Mistake #1: Used is Better Value than New

The very first mistake is a common assumption many people make, which is that a used piano is automatically a better value than a new piano.

While there are cases where this is true, most of the time the overall marketplace has already factored in the value a buyer is getting for used versus new - as long as you understand the street price versus the list price of a new piano that you’re looking at, you'll simply be getting what you pay for.

For example, a used Yamaha U1 in a certain age category has a particular market price point that’s been largely set due to the fact that any used piano performs at a certain level markedly lower than a new counterpart.

If a new 48-inch Japanese piano is worth $9,000 to $10,000, the cost of a used model directly dovetails with this and will be anywhere from 1/3 to 2/3 depending on age and condition.

The main reason for this is that all pianos degrade, depreciate and wear out over time, without exception.

There is no such thing as a 20-year-old piano that is as good as a brand-new piano, with the exception of those rare barn finds where someone unearths a 20-year-old instrument that was never played. Obviously, something like this would be a killer deal, if you could find one.

In most cases, a used piano has received hundreds and even sometimes thousands of hours of use. The hammers are harder and have started to wear down, plus there's more play in the hammer action, meaning it’s going to be looser and less responsive.

The soundboard will have already received decades of down-bearing tension, which affects the soundboard crown, which in turn affects the dynamic potential of the sound.

Tuning stability may also be sub-optimal due to a variety of reasons, such as the humidity of the environment in which the piano is stored. The piano technician/tuner bills can add up quickly.

Finally, the aesthetic condition of a used piano is pretty much always going to be inferior to a new piano unless the instrument has been refinished.

However, this can be costly and would be reflected in the price. For most people, when they invest several thousand dollars into an instrument, they rightfully want it to look good.

All of that put together is to say this: when it comes to used versus new pianos, you get what you pay for.

New pianos are more expensive due to their superior musical potential, aesthetics, durability and warranty coverage. Used pianos cost less, and in the case of many Spinet pianos are available for free, for a reason.

Mistake #2: Buying Based on a “Discount”

This is another one we see all the time - the allure of a big percentage discount from the list price set by the manufacturer. This is an old sales technique that stretches across many industries, automobiles being the most common.

The piano industry is certainly not immune from this, and there's been a lot of good ink spilt on this subject over the years - Piano industry expert Larry Fine for example has opined on this with a great level of detail in several of his highly credible publications.

Here’s what this mistake comes down to; MSRP stands for manufacturer-suggested retail price, and is 100% set by the manufacturer without measure against any type of objective standard.

In the marketplace, there seems to be an inverse relationship between a piano's reputation regarding quality and how high or low the MSRP is.

The better the piano, and the more established the reputation of that instrument, the closer MSRP is likely to be to the actual legitimate street market price of that instrument, to the point where some instruments literally have no daylight between MSRP and what people are actually paying for these pianos.

For many decades, you could say that Steinway & Sons was the only manufacturer who achieved this, but these days there are a number of other manufacturers marketplace who have achieved this as well.

Estonia for example has set their MSRP very close to what the market actually pays for their good high-quality pianos, meaning they haven’t artificially inflated the MSRP to a point where dealers have an abundance of room to discount.

On the flip side of the equation, situations exist where lesser-known and lower-quality brands often dramatically inflate the MSRP of their pianos to achieve two things; for one, they're looking to achieve the perception of equivalence with much more established brands, by listing a high MSRP to artificially inflate the value.

Secondly, this gives less experienced and less established dealers a sales tool that can be effective at generating excitement, i.e. a large, time-limited discount.

This is a common tactic with lesser-known Chinese and Indonesian lines. Very rarely do you see this approach occurring with either North American, European or good-quality Asian-built pianos.

The market pricing is so well-established that people's impression or need for a sense of credible pricing on these instruments handcuffs the manufacturers in a way that is advantageous for consumers.

So, don't be allured by a super high discount based on MSRP from a slick salesperson because there's a very good chance that if you're getting something like 50% off the list price, this MSRP was artificially inflated in the first place.

Mistake #3: Underestimating a Piano’s Volume

Do not underestimate how loud a piano is!

We can’t tell you how many times every single year we get a call from a customer who was thrilled about their piano purchase only to receive delivery and a couple of weeks later be begging for some type of a solution due to the sheer power and volume a piano generates, especially when you dig into the key action and have the sustain pedal engaged.

Pianos are loud. They were built to be loud, and there’s no way around this.

Don't underestimate this and instead, actively plan for it. If you're in a small space or if you've got neighbours, carefully consider the size of the piano because size has a direct relationship to the volume that it produces.

You can also consider other mitigating strategies such as installing a silent system or going with a top-tier hybrid piano that’s actually able to produce a musical experience on par with a fully acoustic piano.

Mistake #4: Not Measuring Piano Size Correctly

This one might seem obvious, but just as often as we have people calling and looking for strategies to mitigate volume they weren't expecting, we get even more calls about this one - the piano won't fit. Measure!

This comes up a lot when we're talking about getting pianos into or out of basements and onto second floors.

Pianos are large and heavy so you need more than a centimetre of clearance to safely move one up and downstairs.

If you have measured at the music store and it's literally going to be within an inch, there's a very good chance that you are going to be taking on damage to the instrument itself or to the walls of your home.

This should be an expectation, and it is not a reflection on the moving company that you have selected if a problem occurs.

The vast majority of piano movers really care about the work they do, and often times issues arise simply due to folks having selected a piano too big for its desired end location.

Mistake #5: Allowing For Acclimatization

This next one has less to do with a shopping mistake and more to do with a misconception right at the same time as a shopping purchase.

Acoustic pianos, not so much digital pianos, need to acclimatize. There is a huge amount of tension on an acoustic piano, and the primary materials, wood and iron, are prone to shrinking and swelling with changes in humidity and temperature.

The humidity and temperature in a warehouse will be different than the humidity and temperature in a piano showroom, which in turn will be different from your home.

When the piano finally arrives in your home for the first time, there will be a period where the instrument goes through some changes while settling into the new environment.

This process often results in piano keys that are slightly sticky or at least a little stiffer than you might expect them to be. You may also find some ringing on certain strings, or a damper that isn't quite damping perfectly.

These are all signs of an instrument that is generally acclimatizing.

It's certainly a good idea to notify your dealer if these things occur shortly after delivery, but your first reflex should not be to think that you have bought a lemon as this is very common. and stretches across all piano brands and types of pianos.

If the humidity continues to be quite dynamic in your home, you can expect a lot of these behaviours to continue.

Creating a humidity environment that is stable can go a long way in preventing these issues from occurring, but even if they do, there’s no need to panic. Just keep in touch with your dealer and they can get the issues remedied.

Mistake #6: Not Considering The Mechanical Sounds Of A Silent System

This is one that wouldn't have needed mentioning even 10 years ago, but the increasing popularity of silent pianos has changed this.

And it makes perfect sense - people want to be able to enjoy all of the sound quality of an acoustic piano without making enemies of their friends, family, and neighbours.

With that in mind, it’s not surprising that we're seeing so many silent systems installed on acoustic pianos since the technology has really evolved in the last few years.

But here is what you need to keep in mind; the mechanical sound of a piano's action is anything but silent.

While the 80 decibels of tone that the piano produces due to the hammer striking the strings is eliminated, the marked mechanical noise that the action itself produces can’t be done away with.

Plus, most silent systems still have the hammer striking some type of bar which also produces noise.

With this in mind, we would encourage anyone considering a silent system to make sure you play one in a piano store and pay attention to the mechanical noise that isn’t done away with by the silent system.

Mistake #7: Buying Based On A Country's "Sound"

Often times we have customers visit one of our showrooms and the conversation starts something like this "I hate Japanese pianos, they're too tinny and the American sound is just a little too brash for me.

I really prefer the high-quality European piano sound."

The problem here is that countries don't really have sounds.

There is as much variety in the German piano-making industry as there is in the Japanese piano-making industry for example.

Instead, countries have general quality standards that can translate to musical perceptions.

When you are competing in a marketplace where your consumer is accustomed to a particular standard of quality, you will generally find that all manufacturers will rise to the occasion. Otherwise, they simply won’t be able to compete.

Europe is steeped in musical culture, and as such the standards that the buying community apply to the piano manufacturing business are higher than buying audiences where the level of musical fluency isn't as well-established over multiple generations.

As such, German pianos generally are the best made, and the better made a piano is, the cleaner the sound will be.

Under that umbrella though, there’s a huge variety of tonal colours and palettes that are possible.

As a result, there are both light and dark pianos from Germany, as well as super colourful pianos and pianos with a very simple tonal profile.

The main thing they have in common is excellent craftsmanship resulting in cleanness of tone.

In terms of pianos from the United States, while there still are 3 US-based piano manufacturers, the classic American sound really just means the Steinway sound, as opposed to the Baldwin or Mason & Hamlin sound.

Japanese pianos are either going to be from Kawai or Yamaha, and these two manufacturers offer pianos that sound widely different from one another. To say there is a Japanese sound isn’t really accurate.

To summarize, while countries have generally consistent quality levels, the idea that all pianos from one country sound the same is not accurate.

Mistake #8: Assuming All Grands Are Better Than Uprights

Here’s another one that comes up all the time - shoppers assuming that baby grand pianos are always superior to upright pianos.

The fact is, grand pianos are not automatically better than upright pianos, plain and simple.

In fact, there are many instances where the quality of the materials and the execution of design on an upright piano will produce a more preferable musical experience than a grand piano of the same price.

This is a general guideline, but we have often found that if you’re seeking a grand piano with exactly the same fit and finish, material quality and design sophistication, you need to approximately double your budget from what a comparable upright piano would cost.

For example, if you were looking at a $20,000 upright piano, you would have to jump to approximately the $40,000 or $50,000 price range to get a grand piano that would be of equal overall quality.

Now, the aesthetics of a grand piano are unbeatable in a living room and the physics of the action come with their own benefits that may mean an otherwise lesser quality grand piano will still be a better piano for you, especially if you’re serious about advancing through piano lessons.

But don't assume that simply choosing a grand over an upright, in all cases, is always going to produce a superior musical experience.

Mistake #9: Not Considering Uprights Under 48 Inches

This one is a classic. Many people think they shouldn’t entertain an upright piano under 48” in height if they’re going to be doing the serious playing, likely due to something they heard from their piano teacher.

This idea likely came from the fact that the Yamaha U1 is 48” in height and is by the far the best-selling upright piano in North America over the last few decades. In Germany, the most common upright piano size is about 47” in height, so this belief simply doesn’t exist in the mind of consumers there.

Piano Buying Tips - Upright Piano Pearl River

The 48” mark is in reality arbitrary. If you automatically draw this line in the sand, you’re cutting yourself off from some fantastic options that come in under this mark.

The fact is, there are many excellent upright pianos available as small as 43”, so we would recommend considering uprights of all sizes.

Mistake #10: Shopping Dynamic

The very last item on our list is a little bit touchy, but we’ve seen this derail the shopping process many times and that is having convoluted decision-making dynamic.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with different family members or a buying group making the final decision of which piano to go with, and having a strong degree of feedback will help in narrowing things down.

But once things have been narrowed down is where having multiple decision-makers can be quite problematic. Choosing a piano after you've made sure that you're in the right category and working with the right budget is extremely personal.

Somebody needs to be designated to take the lead at the very last stage and be the one to musically crown the winner. We’ve seen the entire process gets entirely derailed when there are too many cooks in the kitchen, so to speak.

It’s highly recommended that the person whose primarily going to be playing the instrument have the final say. After all, they’re the ones who will be spending countless hours in front of the piano when all is said and done.

Closing Thoughts

We hope you’ve found this article helpful. As we said in the intro, we at Merriam Pianos have helped thousands of families and individuals choose a piano over the years here at Merriam Pianos, and the above-listed 10 mistakes are extremely common.

If you’re able to avoid the mistakes we’ve listed, the odds greatly increase that you’ll end up with the right piano for you, whether you’re getting ready to learn piano for the first time, or highly experienced pianists and everything in between.

Thank you for reading our piano buying tips and happy shopping!

The post Piano Buying Tips: 10 Common Mistakes People Make When Buying A Piano first appeared on Merriam Pianos

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(905) 829–2020

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

I LOVE your meta on how essek was the perfect asset and want to ask the follow-up question in your tags: how do you think it went down? The agreement between Essek and the Assembly? And I think the fandom was convinced Essek would be disposed of after the peace talks — how do you see his future if there was no intervention by the Mighty Nein in 97?

ruvi-muffin asked:

What are your specific thoughts abt how ludinus recruited essek??👀👀 oh Person who knows a surprising amount of spy stuff 🙏🙏🙏👀👀👀

Anonymous asked:

PLEASE share your specific thoughts about how Essek was recruited, I'm so intrigued!

Anonymous asked:

Hello yes i am very interested in these very specific thoughts about how Essek got recruited? All these things about how actual intelligence works/uses their assets/how that ties to Essek and the M9 is really interesting :D

Thank you all so much for asking me the specific question I wanted someone to ask. I had to write and rewrite this post a half-dozen times because I kept going off on tangents about other Cold War spy stories so trust me there’s plenty more where this came from.

For reference, my original post on what made Essek an ideal recruitment target and why the M9 were the ideal counter to it.

First off, this is all based on real-world intelligence ops and is only as relevant to the campaign as Matt Mercer cares to make it. Having said that *slams notebook on table* BUCKLE UP, KIDDOS.

There are two ways Essek may have been recruited: he approached the Assembly or the Assembly approached him. I think the Assembly approached him. Not to be too hard on the guy, but Essek said it himself: he’s kind of a coward. I can’t see him mustering up the nerve to take that first step. Plus his espionage seems to have focused specifically on the beacons rather than dunamancy as a whole; that sounds like the Assembly to me. The beacons specifically offer the prospect of immortality and the Cerberus mages are arrogant enough to assume they can figure out dunamancy themselves if they have a beacon in hand. There’s no way the Assembly haven’t been trying to beg, borrow, or steal those beacons for centuries. Essek may not have even been their first try - just the first that worked. 

Chronologically, Essek would have popped up on either the Assembly or the Augen Trust’s radar quite early as I assume they keep tabs on all powerful Dynasty mages. As they followed his career, the Assembly would have ID’d Essek as a perfect target for recruitment as a spy, and then further for ego-based recruitment. Recruitment for espionage is a slow process - even slower in a fantasy world where some races reasonably expect to live 500+ years. Many intelligence agencies will do a sort of light meet-and-greet just to start a file on various people who might years later be of interest. The Assembly would have cultivated Essek as an intelligence asset with the same degree of time and care - and using some of the same methods - that Trent used to turn the Blumenthal trio into assassins. 

If they followed a modern playbook, they would have made contact with Essek anywhere from 2 to 10 years before the theft - nothing underhanded. A Cerberus mage approaches him at a negotiation or conference and strikes up a conversation. Then it’s increasing “chance” encounters to get Essek familiar with the handler, play the “we’re both mages, really we’re on the same side” angle to earn enough sympathy & trust to start talking regularly. Once the channel’s open, the handler and asset meet and/or talk routinely while the handler assesses the target’s motives, weaknesses, and the possibility that they’re a double agent. 

Espionage proper then starts with small favors, acts Essek can rationalize as victimless or even helpful to the Dynasty. In this stage the handler is getting the asset comfortable with engaging in espionage. They reward the asset for what feels like minimal moral trespass. For Essek that would have been praising his research, encouraging avenues of investigation they knew the Dynasty had shut down. Having meetings with Ludinus plays right into the ego trip - the Head of the Assembly himself is taking the time to meet with him! The Assembly gets how important this work is! That keeps Essek isolated from Dynasty members who might convince him to take a step back and builds loyalty to the Assembly over the Dynasty.

Once an asset settles in, espionage becomes easier. Routines get established. Moral hurdles have been overcome. Now the asks get bigger and the rewards get sparser. The handler will suggest larger acts just to get the asset thinking about them, since the more they consider “just hypothetically” how to pull it off, the more likely it is they’ll do it. This is where the idea of stealing the beacons would get introduced (though of course it’s been the goal all along.) I’ll bet the Assembly hinted at all the study that could be done if they could just get to the beacons in person, constantly bemoaning the lack of access. By now Essek sees the Assembly as colleagues in arcane pursuits, kindred minds, unlike the boring, stuffy old mages of the Dynasty. Of course he could outwit the Dynasty’s security and get the beacons to the Assembly - he’s a prodigy, a genius, everyone says so. And it’s not like he was stealing all of them. The consecuted would be fine. Everyone would be fine.

None of this is intended to absolve Essek of personal responsibility. But it provides a context for his actions, and for why he might regret them so much even though he apparently did them willingly. Asset handlers are very, very good at drawing someone willing to commit minor transgressions into far greater crimes. Look at how Trent shaped Caleb, Astrid, and Eadwulf. He didn’t order them to execute their own parents on day one. He spent years coaxing, tempting, and coercing them into darker and darker crimes, letting them rationalize their own actions at each step, preying on the same vulnerabilities as Essek: isolation (separating the three from other students, telling them their work was secret), ambition (the promise of great arcane power, of shaping the Empire’s destiny), and ego (”we were going to keep the empire safe,” telling them they were gifted, they were chosen).

So how do IRL spies rationalize their actions? Those who spy for reasons of conscience or ideology have done the rationalizing ahead of time, but everyone else has to get there somehow. Some who spy for revenge tell themselves it’s what their superiors deserve, while others tell themselves everyone’s doing it. Some just need a lie to get started (most commonly about who they’re spying for), while others have to keep up the charade all along. Let’s look at a few cases similar to Essek’s that demonstrate just how slippery the slope can be.

Aldrich Ames, a long-term CIA officer slash double agent for the KGB, got suckered in by thinking he could control the situation and wasn’t really hurting anyone. Ames had chronic financial trouble related to excessive drinking & his wife’s lavish lifestyle and in 1985 came up with a plan: he would essentially con the KGB by selling them a minor amount of classified info that he deemed “virtually worthless.” In April he set up the exchange and the KGB paid him $50,000, enough to satisfy his immediate debts. But after actually doing it Ames said he felt he’d now crossed a line he couldn’t step back from, and continued to sell information to the Soviets. By the time he was caught he had, by his own admission, compromised “virtually all Soviet agents of the CIA.”

While some assets just need a lie to get started, others require a delicate dance of self-delusion. Col. George Trofimoff was an Army officer who ran the center where would-be Soviet defectors were assessed & questioned. Trofimoff, a Russian émigré at a young age, was chronically in debt. In 1969 he renewed his acquaintance with his stepbrother back in Russia, now a bishop in the Russian Orthodox Church, and began to pass secrets in return for money - but he and his stepbrother never framed the transactions as such. Trofimoff described their meetings as, “very informal. ... First, it was just a conversation between the two of us. He would ask my opinion on this and that--then, he would maybe ask me, 'Well, what does your unit think about it?' Or, 'What does the American government think about it?’” His compensation was similarly informal: “I said I needed money. ... And he says, 'I tell you what, I'll loan it to you.' So he gave me, I think, 5,000 marks and then, it wasn't enough, because I needed more. ... Then he says, 'Well, you know, I'll tell you what. You don't owe me any money. And if you need some more, I can give you some more. Don't worry about it. You're going to have to have a few things, this and that.' And this is how it started.” Trofimoff could pretend to himself that he wasn’t really spying - just having a chat with his stepbrother - and wasn’t really getting paid for it - just borrowing a little money.

This got longer than I intended it to be and there’s still plenty to talk about, so I’ll save the rest for a second post. Next time: what happens long-term to espionage assets? And what happens if an asset regrets their actions and/or attempts to cut off contact with their handlers?

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

[sluttyten]

craving you like the devil craves heaven

summary: you’re a succubus (a female demon that seduces men to death) and you task yourself with seducing someone difficult. enter mark lee, a priest with a vow of celibacy that he’s already struggling with. you think you’ll have some fun. (based off this message from an anon)

length: 8,622

warnings: religious themes, sacrilegious, corruption, demons, priests, oral sex, masturbation, sex

As a newly-made succubus, you wanted to impress your peers and superiors, and therefore decided to challenge yourself by making your first time special and big.

“A priest?” Your direct superior shook her head in disbelief. “Most would start with a regular mortal who is much, much more likely to succumb to sin. Are you sure you want to commit to seducing a priest? You realize they swear to be celibate, and typically they’re committed to destroying demons like you and I?”

You do realize all of those things, but you’re sure if you find the right one you can do it. Not all priests are perfectly perfect and holy.

All it took was a little bit of divine intervention (or rather you intervening in the divine), tapping into that holy line of mortal prayers. A little eavesdropping, careful listening, and at last you plucked the correct line, listening to the reverberating prayers of a holy man dealing with such sinful thoughts, praying for help in remaining faithful to the vows of the priesthood.

It was night in this place where the young priest was. Cool and dark, the air was damp and would surely make you shiver if you were mortal, but the cold didn’t affect a demon like you, nor did the mist as it clung to your eyelashes and the strands of your hair. You stood across the street from the rectory, standing in the shadow of a doorway, gazing up at the faint golden light of a window on the second floor of the holy man’s house.

You could still hear a whisper of his prayers.

“Lord, it’s me, Mark, your servant. I pray you give me the strength to resist these desires, the sinful thoughts.” He prays, and you can almost picture him kneeling with his hands folded before him, head bowed, and lips moving slightly as he repeats the words of Latin prayers.

You decide to study him.

That night you stand there on the street and watch the house, listening to his dreams, and catching glimpses of his neighbors’ dreams, as well as the other two priests who share the home with Mark. And in the morning you shift yourself to match the wall behind you, to continue your observations as the young priest rises and dresses and walks down the street to the church. You watch as he passes through the cemetery tucked behind the church, and he pauses at some of the headstones to straighten flowers or offer a prayer, and then he enters through a side door, and you stand outside, waiting.

Several hours later a crowd begins to arrive, passing inside through the large, ornate front doors, and soon after music swells, voices rise, and you hear the chanting of prayers upon prayers. You watch as Mark emerges from the church among his parishioners, as he smiles and talks and shakes hands with them.

You take special note of the way that his eyes repeatedly flick toward another human, near the same age as himself. You notice the way his eyes follow their movements, how he smiles when they meet his eye.

Ah, this one. That one is the source of the young priest’s sinful thoughts.

You observe as the crowd thins, disappearing from the front steps of the church until it is only the priest speaking to a mother and her toddler that keeps tugging on her hand and crying, and Mark tries his best to pay full attention to her, but the lovely human who has attracted his notice stands a few feet away, holding a folder in their hands.

Eventually as the bell tower above the church chimes the hour, Mark excuses himself from the mother, stating that he has an appointment to get to, and you watch with renewed interest as he leaves the mother and beckons the nervous-looking folder-wielding individual to step back into the church with him.

They pass through the nave of the church—their footsteps echoing up to the vaulted ceiling, through all the empty pews—and bow at the altar before stepping around to the side, and passing through a doorway tucked behind a statue of a saint. They shut themselves away in the priest’s office, and you listen eavesdrop from your hiding place across from the church, a safe distance from all the blessed holiness that would try to keep you out.

You can’t quite hear Mark’s thoughts, but bear enough to it, sensing the fluctuations in his emotions as the parishioner shows him the divorce file, and pleads with him to help them resolve the issues in their marriage to their spouse in a way that won’t end like this.

You can feel Mark’s tension, the conflict within himself. It’s his duty to help. But the desire he feels for this person sitting across from him.... it’s sinful, it goes against his vows.

That night you watch him walk back to the rectory after another mass, several meetings, a meal at the home of one of his parishioner’s. You listen as he prepares himself for bed, as he prays once more for the strength to get passed this way he feels because he knows it’s not right in the eyes of the church and God.

And that night, after Mark’s window has at last gone dark, after he’s fallen into dreams, you decide that your time for first contact has come.

Mark’s dreams are easy to intrude upon. The boundaries upon the rectory, blessed though they may be, are old and worn and leave several gaping holes for you to slip through and into his mind.

What you’re doing isn’t possession. That’s not in your repertoire.

In his dream, you take the form of Mark’s desire. You form the dream into what you require, setting up the scene as being back in his office, that desk between him and you, the future-divorcée’s file open on the desk.

Mark doesn’t notice a thing, he just slips right from his normal dreams into this one, picking up his lines without a skip.

“....and pray to the Lord. You and Alex can get through this. Counseling and prayer works miracles.” Mark says, and just as he’d done earlier in the day, he reaches across the desk and takes the hand sitting there atop the file.

Unlike earlier though, you’re in control of this dream. You’d felt Mark’s mind buzzing when his hand came in contact with the hand of his secret desire, so you turn that to your benefit now, making your first changes.

“I know it’s wrong,” you say in the voice of the divorcee, “But sometimes I think there’s no use saving the marriage. Alex feels one way about it, and I can understand that. Alex could fall in love with someone else and be happier and I want that for my spouse, of course I do. And if I could fall in love too....” Your look up at Mark sitting across from you, his hand still on yours, and the look on your face is one that you put as much want and lust into as you can.

Mark gulps. His fingers twitch against your hand. “Sometimes people fall in love with someone else. A peaceful resolution to a marriage, the dissolvement, annulment.... that can happen and both parties can remarry happily.”

He’s trying so hard, the poor thing. One look into his eyes and you can see the nervousness and excitement, the way his mind is rushing at this news that the person sitting before him might want to look for new love.

“Sometimes the person that we’re meant to be with is actually right in front of us.” You say.

Mark nods, swallows again. You test the waters, stroke your thumb over the back of his hand.

He jolts in his seat and stands, rubbing a hand over the top of his head as he paces over to a water disperser in the corner of the office, and he fills a small paper cup for himself, gulps it down. And you take this as your next opportunity to try to twist this dream to your advantage.

“Father Lee,” you step closer and closer, coming up right behind him.

His hand shakes as he fills the cup again, but before he can quite lift it to his lips, you curl your hand against his, and take the cup, bringing it to your lips and draining it while you look at him. He watches with his lips parted, eyes wide. Mark drinks too—drinks in every detail of you wearing his desire’s face and putting your lips where his had just been. You can hear his adorable thoughts—the innocent rush he gets from thinking that’s like an indirect kiss.

Things are moving too slow now, you can tell that even in a dream, even when you’re offering everything up for him to make the move, Mark won’t take the opportunity. He’s trying too hard to hold back, and you just want to seduce him.

So you push things ahead just a little bit, rearrange the dream to your liking, which is you sitting on the edge of the desk, leaning back on your hands with Mark’s hands on you. He’s got one hand tangled in your hair, the other on your waist, and the overwhelming sexual frustration you taste on his tongue as he kisses you is so fucking sweet.

Mark murmurs your name.

Well, not your name. But the name that belongs with this face. You press closer, kissing him back to make him shut up, to keep him distracted and enchanted by the lust of the dream.

But perhaps doing that pushes it too far.

Mark breaks away, gasping, “No, wait. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Irritation flashes through you, and for a split second your true self shines through.

Mark’s eyes widen and he gasps, the whole dream fluctuates, shaking and tipping to the side, and then you’re ripped back to reality, just a monstrous succubi hiding in the space beneath his bed.

You hold still as Mark staggers to his feet. Bare feet brush across the floor, and you hear him slapping his face, pinching at his inner arms, and then you hear him murmuring prayers again.

“Father, I’m sorry for my sins. Please forgive me.” and “Father purge these demons from my mind.”

You wrap your arms around yourself under his bed and smile. You don’t plan to go anywhere.

Several more days pass and you let Mark be. You even return to Hell for a few days to update your supervisor on your progress, and while it’s not as much as you’d like, they are impressed with your target.

By the time you return to watch Mark again, he seems to have calmed down a bit from that naughty dream you’d given him. You return just in time for him to say his nighttime prayers, and once more you wait for him to fall asleep before you enter his space.

You bring yourself physically into the space—at first incorporeal, but then you manifest a tangible shape that you personally admire for all of your earthly adventures, and you settle in to do your work for the night.

Even with a real body, you’re still light as a breath of wind, so when you climb onto the bed and settle over Mark’s chest, he doesn’t stir. Nor does he do anything as you step into his dreams.

This time you observe the dreams for a moment.

You seem to be in a memory. Mark’s brother and himself when they were younger, riding bikes down a street that fades off into white nothingness at the edges, not that either of the two boys seem aware. The dream shifts naturally from that bike-ride to sitting in a car, the windows rolled down, a night breeze filling the interior and raking its fingers through Mark’s hair. There’s a girl sitting in the seat beside him, talking and smiling and dressed cute with a milkshake in one hand that she pauses her story every now-and-then to take a sip at. A girlfriend or a first love. When she reaches over and lays a casual hand on Mark’s thigh, he jumps a little. It’s close enough to what you need, so you grasp onto it and take control of the dream like you’re the one driving a car.

You wear the dream-girl’s face as easily as you’d worn the one in the last dream. You move her hand higher up his thigh.

Mark turns his head to the side with a sharp inhale, staring at you. And then you realize, startling even yourself, that he’s actually staring at you.

The dream ripples and you can feel it pulling away from you, Mark resisting your attempt to control the dream.

“Who are you?” His voice asks, but the Mark in the dream before you doesn’t move his mouth. The voice echoes and booms from all around you.

Abort. Fleeing a dream, tearing yourself from the web of his mind, abandoning your victim in a situation like this seems like the absolute most perfect idea.

But tragically, it seems impossible.

The dream closes in around you, squeezing tight as if holding you there. You grapple with Mark’s mind, and then suddenly the dream releases, Mark gasps awake, trying hard to suck in breaths against the new weight of you sitting on his chest, a succubi filled with the lust and dream-energy you’d been siphoning from him.

Before you can truly flee, dissolving back to your incorporeal form and slipping out into the free night, Mark’s hand closes around your wrist, and with a strength and agility you didn’t expect, he flips you under him, pinning your form to his bed. Trapping you between his warm body and the firm mattress.

“Who are you?” Mark hisses.

You let your true eyes shine through, hoping that the dimly glowing sulphuric color of them will frighten him into letting you go.

Instead, he reaches into his shirt and draws out a cross on a silver chain. You flinch back into the sheets as Mark asks the same question again.

“I’m here to help you.” You turn your gaze away from the cross, locking your eyes on his. “You’re so loud with your lustful thoughts, and I’m here to help you feel better, to tame your lusty sins.” You buck your hips up, pressing up against his hips.

Mark swallows hard. “I don’t know what you are or what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, so you don’t want to fuck that sexy, soon-to-be singleton you were dreaming about the other night?” You bring your hands up both of his arms until your fingertips are under the sleeves against his biceps. “Oh, Father Lee, don’t you know how sinful that is? What would your fellow priests think? What must He think?”

Mark’s jaw tightens, and he brings the cross closer to your skin. Your body tingles and burns.

“Let me up.” You tell him. He doesn’t budge. “I swear to all things evil, let me up or I’ll scream and moan, transform to look like your secret desire so when your Brothers came running in here all they’ll know is I’m moaning your name, and you’re....”

Mark moves.

“Demon.” He spits the word at you like an insult.

You sit up, fixing your hair, and you wink in his direction. “You got it.”

“Get out.”

“Hey.” You stand, raising your hands innocently. “You’re the one that summoned me here. I’m a succubus, and the amount of sexual frustration radiating off of you was too delicious to pass up.” You lean in and sniff at his neck, just to take the opportunity to make him uncomfortable because he’s cute like that. “I just want to help, to show you that you can still feel good, Mark. And anyway, is it breaking your vows if I was just trying to entice you in your dreams? It’s not real is it?”

Mark shakes his head, taking an unsteady step backwards. “Even thoughts are sins.”

You roll your eyes and sink back down onto the edge of his bed. “That’s such a modern misconception. Back in the early days of your faith, people weren’t quite so... prudish. They had sex, some even saw it as praising Him, thanking him for the goodness of it all. Some people still do, why do you think people scream His name during the throes of ecstasy?”

Mark blushes. “Stop it. I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m just trying to help.” You reply, leaning back on your hands and looking up at him. “You’re horny, I can feel that. You’re channeling all of your lust toward one unattainable person because they’re married, Mark. Not to mention, they call you Father Lee, which is very unsexy, might I add. But if you would just give in to your dreams, have a hot little dream of making out, getting down and dirty in your office, then that would give you a bit of satisfaction, right? Have a wet dream like you haven’t since you were a teenager? Or at the worst, wake up with a boner, take care of it yourself. You do jerk off still, don’t you, Father Lee?”

Mark frowns at you. “Shut up.”

“Is that a no?” You gasp, sitting up. “Seriously? But you’re still so young, you’ve got all of these hormones, this energy that you need to release. Even if you feel you can’t release it with someone else, do it yourself.”

Mark turns completely away from you then, but you can still see him reflected in the mirror across the room. “Get out.”

His tone is so dour, dark and serious, that you do get out. You flee into incorporeality, still able to observe the look on Mark’s face when he turns around a second later and sees you’re gone, can still see the shape of where you’d say on his bed. He runs his fingers through his hair, and then begins to whisper prayers to his God for forgiveness for his weakness.

You let a few more days pass before you return, scared that coming back too soon would cause too much damage. But several days, you think, gives him time to think more about what you’ve said. You do watch him though, you watch closer than you’d done before, and you see Mark clumsily try to touch himself, as if thinking about what you’d said, but he always pulls his hand away after a moment with a groan of frustration.

On the fifth night since you’d last appeared to him, Mark lingers in his office at the church, pouring over papers, notes from meetings, notices from the parish school. In the yellow half-light cast off by his desk lamp, Mark looks so much older and more tired than anyone should look at twenty-five.

“You need to do something to relax,” you tell him as you manifest right behind his seat, already rubbing at his tense shoulders.

Mark spins his chair around so quickly, he nearly falls out of it. His pupils expand with fear, his chest rising and falling with the surprised, panicked breaths you’d startled out of him.

“How are you in here?” He asks, his eyes darting around the room to the closed door and the latched windows. You know he’s thinking about how the doors of the church are locked (because he’d checked them earlier after the last service for the evening), and then you can see the switch flip in his mind as he starts thinking about how you’re a self-confessed demon currently standing on holy ground. “How are you here?”

You shrug and step around him, sitting on the edge of his desk and plucking a paper from the middle of one of the piles. “It’s easy to be here. I just feel all tingly in all the good places.” You wink at him.

Mark groans and punches the bridge of his nose. “Am I going crazy? Is that what this is? You’re a manifestation of my mental breakdown?”

“Absolutely not,” you laugh. “I’m real. See?”

You take his hand from his face and bring it down between your thighs, close enough that Mark can feel the heat radiating off your skin, but before you can actually make him touch any part of your body, Mark jerks his hand away. You sigh sadly and return your focus to the paper in your hand.

“So, marriage counseling going well for the unhappy couple?” You scan the document which is notes Mark had taken during the counseling session for his crush. “From the looks of it they have issues. The unresolvable kind. Alex just won’t put out, and your sweetheart has needs, huh? But you know all about that, don’t you, Mark?”

Mark snatches the paper out of your hands. “That’s a confidential document.”

You hold out your hand, and right before Mark’s eyes another page from his desk appears in your hand, and this time you read aloud. “When we first got married, we would have sex regularly. At least once a week, usually more.” You raise your eyes to look at Mark. He’s trying so hard not to blush; you wonder how he got through the session. The next few lines of the message are more whining about the current lack of a sex life, and then it’s gets into the sordid, juicy details that you feel certain Mark had struggled to copy down, but had done so for the specific intent of reliving the rush he felt hearing about the sex life of someone he desires.

So naturally you read that part aloud to him as well, and Mark just squirms in his seat. You look up at him and see that he’s definitely blushing, his hands folded as he stares down at them with such a forceful look of concentration, that you’re surprised they’ve not burst into flames. He’s so determined to ignore you, you can hear the prayers racing through his mind.

But when you toe off your shoes and bring a foot up into his lap, you’re amused to find a raging erection hiding there. Mark shudders as the sole of your foot caresses him. His hands untwist, and one moves to your calf, curling around it, but he doesn’t push you away. Not as you keep moving your foot over him like this. His eyelids flutter.

You don’t dare speak, just let the silence hang in the room as you rub Mark’s erection with your foot, his hand on your calf, the other clenching into a fist on the arm of his chair. His lips part, small sweet-sounding sighs falling free. His eyes close, head dropped back against the headrest of his fine leather seat, and his hips shift beneath your foot.

He looks beautiful like this, you think.

Half-lit by his lamp, blushing and glowing with list and finally-felt pleasure. Your body tingles with your own pleasure, the success of doing this.

Mark’s teeth catch his bottom lip, trapping a grunt within his lips. You press your toes to circle them at the tip of his erection, and Mark’s hips lift up, chasing the feeling, grinding against your foot. He sighs, soft moans and pretty sounds, and then at last, he whispers “oh God” and then shudders and slumps back in the chair.

You feel the wet heat beneath your heel, Mark’s cum filling his trousers.

Satisfied, you vanish before he can open his eyes.

You return the following night. This time Mark is in his room at the rectory, sitting up in bed. His eyes are closed as he leans against the wall, his bedsheets pooled in his lap, his hand resting there. He’s not touching himself, but you can tell that he’s challenging himself not to. He’s hard again, and the moment you present in the room, his eyes open as if he could feel the change in the air.

“Demon,” his eyes narrow. “What did you do to me last night?”

“Why? Did it feel good?” You smile. You don’t walk straight to his bed, though you know you’ll end up there. You walk to the closet, run your fingers over the hangers, you skim your fingers through the dust gathering on the books lining the shelf on his wall.

When Mark clears his throat, it’s then that you finally look at him. “Why are you here?”

“Because you need me.” You nod at his lap, wave your hand in a long gesture at his whole body. “I’m telling you, Mark, the energy coming off of you, it’s a wonder you don’t draw every succubus in Hell to come seduce you, drinking up all this juice you’ve got, I’ve never been so full.”

Mark’s eyes flash darkly, his eyes stuck on your face. “Well you had your fill last night right? I can’t believe.... I’ve prayed to the Lord for forgiveness so many times since last night I went to confession earlier today.”

“Oh did you?” A burst of excitement goes through you, and you hurry to sit on his bed, taking up his hand. “What did you tell them about me?”

Mark shakes your hand off. “I didn’t mention you. Why would I? They’d either think I’m losing my mind, which I’m still not convinced that I’m not, or they’d think that I’m just breaking my vows and having sex with someone. I just confessed that I lost my battle against lust and took care of myself.”

You tut at him disapprovingly, shaking your head as you say, “Lying in confession? Isn’t that an oxymoron? And a sin?”

Mark’s hands clench at the sheets. “I wasn’t lying really. Not if I believe that you’re a figment of my cracking mind.”

You smirk, and when you lean closer and lay a fingertip on Mark’s cheek, tracing along his cheekbone and then dropping to outline his lips, you whisper, “And do you believe that? Truly? That I’m just a figment of your imagination?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” Mark whispers hoarsely. “I don’t know if it’s better to think I’m doing this to myself or that there’s a demon taunting me.”

“Maybe I’m actually an angel in disguise, sent in answer to your prayers.” You shift onto your knees, and lean close to Mark’s face. You hold just an inch away from his lips. He goes almost cross-eyed trying to keep looking at you. “In which case, you should take advantage of this opportunity, no? Let me help you, enjoy it.”

Mark pulls his head back, closing his eyes tight as he drops his head back gently against the wall. “This is a sin. I’m a priest, I can’t be doing this.”

You roll your eyes and move.

Mark peers curiously, and almost fearfully, through a cracked eyelid when he feels your weight leave the bed. But a split second later you’ce settled completely in his lap. He goes stiff, murmuring prayers under his breath as well as something that sounds suspiciously like some sort of chant to banish you.

You stay firmly in your spot. “Why did you become a priest, Mark?”

Your question catches him off guard. His prayers cut off and he opens his eyes, looking directly at you. “What? Because I was called. I heard His voice calling me.”

“When?”

“The first time I was young. Fifteen, I think.” He looks up at the ceiling, remembering. “Again when I was eighteen. I entered the seminary at nineteen, studied until I was twenty three, when I became a deacon, and then I was ordained earlier this year. At twenty five.”

You shift your weight. “And you never doubted it? That this was what you wanted to do? That you wanted to swear yourself to celibacy? Never have sex, never allow yourself to experience pleasure? Tell me, Mark, are you a virgin?”

Mark’s blush returns, flooding his face with heat. “Why do you care?”

“Have you ever been touched by another person?” He stays silent, and you think about what you’ve observed in him. You think about him clumsily touching himself before giving up, about how easily he’d fallen apart under your touch the night before. “Have you ever touched yourself, Mark?”

You can feel how hard his heart pounds now, and in each loud beat you hear your answer.

“Cute. Little virginal priest.” You put your hands on either of his cheeks, turning his face so he has no choice but to look right at you. “Was last night your first orgasm?”

Mark breathes through his nose, holding your gaze, trying to steady his racing heart and mind. “Can you stop.”

“But aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to feel it again?” You drop your hands from his face. “I can give that to you again. I can make you feel even better, actually. If you let me, Mark, I can open up a whole new world to you.”

When his eyes close you can tell that he’s thinking about how to banish you, to send you back to hell. You find that very attractive, particularly when a muscle in his jaw flexes.

“Mark,” you whisper, and you lift a gentle hand to his neck, tracing a finger along a vein that stands out there. “Mark, what if I’m just a figment of your imagination? It’s not wrong then, is it? To want to feel good like you did last night? I can give that to you again, I can make you feel better. Just tell me yes.”

The silence buzzes in the room as you wait for him to speak or do anything.

“Yes,” Mark’s voice comes out shaky, hoarse. “Yes, okay. Just one more time.”

You move before he can decide to change his mind. Mark just takes steadying breaths as you sink down the bed, slipping beneath the covers, fitting between his thighs. He holds his breath when you tug down the waistband of the plaid flannel pants he’s wearing, when you touch his bare erection with your fingers, the tip of your tongue, your lips closing around him.

You’re not sure that he breathes until swallow around him, pushing to take more of his cock down your throat. Your body buzzes with the heat coming off of him, the energizing power of making him feel good.

Mark doesn’t touch you. He clenches his fingers in the bedsheets on either side of his hips as you give him his very first blowjob. You can’t help looking up at him as you do this; watching every look of pleasure and satisfaction cross his face, unrestrained. And when he moans, they’re soft moans, always conscious that you’re not alone together in this house of holy men, that there’s another priest just two doors down, an empty bathroom in between.

You keep sucking him off, taking him as deep into your mouth as you can when he blows his load for the first time.

Mark bites his knuckles to keep quiet. You pull off his erection, keeping your fingers on him, playing with him as he shudders through the last waves of pleasure.

“Look at that, would you? Felt good? How could that be a bad thing?” You drop a tender kiss to his tip, and then sit up, feeling very satisfied in yourself. “Do you want more?”

“More? No. I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t.” He put his hands over his face, pinching at his nose. “Shit. What am I doing? You need to leave.”

You look at him with his face covered, his body on display to your eyes. “Well, if you want more, I’m sure you can look up a summoning ritual for me in one of your holy books, Father Mark. Call me.”

You stand up, and it’s not like you’re going to leave by the door, or anything, but you turn to look around his room one last time. You’re done here. You seduced the priest, drank energy from him, there’s nothing more to be done. You’ve enjoyed your first time, but you’re not going to do the full succubus job to this man, you’ve enjoyed him too much. You won’t drain him and leave him sick. You just hope you opened his eyes.

“Wait.” The young priest grabs your arm before you have the chance to disappear. “How do you expect me to summon you if I don’t know your name?” He says it lightly, almost joking, as if he’s still not sure that he can really take this seriously, this whole you being a seductive demon thing. But the look in his eyes is hopeful.

With a light touch to his chin, you lean in, and whisper your name in his ear.

Months pass in mortal time. You move on from the young priest, seducing many men and some women, draining a few of them dry until they’re just shells of their former selves. You’re currently seducing a wannabe actor, literally sitting on his dick, when you feel a tug inside you. It’s a strange feeling, nothing you’ve felt before, and it’s not pleasant at all.

You push at the man’s chest, the unpleasant feeling spreading through you. “I’ve got to go,” you tell him, and then you turn and vanish, following the strange feeling.

You find yourself in a strange room, a small bedroom.

“So you really never came back to me.” A voice says from behind you.

You spin around, noticing all at once the candles, and then right before you--

“Forgive me, Father. I thought you didn’t want more from me.” You reach out to Mark, standing right here before him for the first time in so long. You missed him. You missed teasing him.

“I didn’t expect you really wouldn’t come back.” Mark stands there just out of reach, his arms folded across his chest. And he looks so good, so handsome in a black button-down shirt and gray pressed slacks. But he’s barefoot and his hair is messy, adding a toned-down casual level to his attractiveness. He clears his throat and you look back up to his face as he says, “I had to make do without you around, you know.”

That piques your interest. “Oh? Did you finally learn to jerk off? Have you been touching yourself? Here in the priest house?”

Mark shakes his head. “Look around, does this look like my room there?”

No, actually. It doesn’t at all. And a quick look out the window shows that you’re in somewhere completely different.

“I left the priesthood,” Mark explains. “What you said, what you did to me, I realized that the priesthood wasn’t what was the best choice for me. I can still serve the Lord in other ways, other ways that will allow me to explore the side of me that you awakened.” And now Mark steps closer to you. At last, he reaches for your face, slipping his fingers into your hair. You practically purr at the contact with him. “I’ve been busy since you left me.”

“Oh?” You lean into his touch. “From priest to manwhore in just a few passes of the moon.”

Mark nods. “I tried to stay on that path for a little while, but I just couldn’t. I craved more, that same feeling you gave me.” He nibbles his bottom lip nervously for a second before admitting, “I actually slept with a woman before I decided to give up on the priesthood. I prayed for forgiveness afterwards, but it just felt like I fucked up too much on that one, so I decided to leave. I moved away, started over, slept around, but none of them touched me the way that you did. Nothing feels better than you.”

You shrug. “It’s part of the job description really. I’m a seductress. You think I’m not going to be the best you’ve ever had? Is that why you summoned me, you want more at last?”

“Demon, I want to make you a deal.” Mark caresses your cheek. “I am a man of faith, and you’ve steered me down some side path that I had absolutely no intention of going down. In the past, I didn’t know what to do with you, but I wanted you. Now, I still want you, but I know what I’m doing. I know about you. I did research about your kind while I was looking up how to summon you again. I want to make a deal.”

“A deal?” You pull back from him, breaking all contact. “Mark, what the hell. Don’t you know what making a deal with a demon means?”

He cuts you off with a shake of his head, dismissive. “I don’t care. I know the risk, but, fuck, I swear you got me addicted to you. Just a few hits, and I crave you.”

“Why would you want to make a deal with me? A binding pact?” You push at his chest and Mark takes a step back to balance. “Are you fucking stupid? You think I want your soul, Mark Lee? You had a good soul, a pure one. That’s why I left you and never looked back! Some things are too good starting out, and tarnishing them with my hands....” You look down at your hands, and you can see through the glamor you wear, down to your real form the ashen hell-burnt flesh.

Mark’s watching you when you look up at him. But he doesn’t look afraid, doesn’t look sad or sorry.

His eyes still burn with need.

“I don’t want your soul,” you tell him, “So I don’t want a deal.”

Mark takes another step back from you. “But I want you. So take the damned deal. Fuck me.”

“And what do you get out of it? You won’t get fame or fortune or health from this deal. You literally just get to fuck a demon until you die, so no, that’s not good enough.” If you were human you’d be sick to your stomach right now. What Mark’s offering you, if he were anyone else you would take the deal, but Mark Lee was a good man when you met him; he was cute and innocent, a pure soul that you wanted to protect so you left for his own good. You couldn’t make him pay the price of being with you.

No, Mark shakes his head in denial and desperation. He comes close to you again, standing just an inch away from you, close enough that both of you can feel each other, but not close enough that any part of you is actually touching.

“Just touch me, please.” Mark pleads. “I miss your touch. The way you made me feel, I’ve been chasing that high for months, and nothing compares. Please.”

You want to touch him. You really, really do.

With a groan of frustration, you cup Mark’s face in your hands. “I’m going to be the death of you,” you tell him in the moment before your lips meet his.

The kiss is absolutely intoxicating. Mark moans and wraps around you, moving backwards toward his bed, limbs tangling together as you both collapse onto his sheets. You pin him beneath you, kissing the air from his lungs, your fingers sliding down the front of his shirt, buttons falling open just at your touch. And when your fingertips move a bit lower, grazing the front of his pants, you find that he’s devastatingly hard.

He rolls his hips up against your hand, groaning into the kiss, whimpering delightfully when you squeeze his erection.

You sit up on him, and Mark follows, needy for your kiss. His mouth crashes against yours, sharp and hot. You push his shirt off his shoulders, and you let him roll you under him, your body nestled into his sheets as Mark unbuttons his fancy slacks, pushing them down enough that you can see his cock pop out.

You grab onto the edges of his pants, dragging him forward up your body, and you all but throw your mouth onto his cock.

Much like the last time, Mark seems caught off guard by the way you make him feel. He moans loudly, fingers knotting in your hair. But unlike the last time, he quickly recovers, seems to know what to do to get exactly what he wants, using his hands in your hair to direct your mouth.

When you can see it in his face that he’s enjoying this a bit too much, you pull off, using your hand on him instead, looking up at him as you jerk him off over your chest.

“Mmm, fuck,” Mark moans, a hand running over his chest and down his abs. “No one makes me feel this good. Not with anything they’ve done to me.” He thrusts forward into your hand. “I need to feel you around me.”

You nod. You want it too. You’re ready for him, and he’s clearly more than ready for you. Mark quickly disposes of his pants, climbing back on the bed, sinking in to kiss you again, and you fall into the kiss, more intoxicating than anything you’ve ever felt. With a hand to his chest, you press Mark onto his back, and you climb over him, straddling his thighs.

You don’t break the kiss, just reach down as you move forward to situate yourself over him. Teasing the head of his erection against your wet, dripping entrance, Mark whines, shifting his hips up eagerly. “Patience,” you murmur, and you leave his lips behind to kiss down his throat, down the center of his chest, and you glance up at him as you allow his tip to slide inside you just as you circle your tongue on one of his nipples.

He bucks up, wanting to bury himself inside you, but you’ve already pulled away again.

“Thought you said you’d know what to do now?” You ask, flicking your tongue over his pebbled nipple. “When are you going to prove that? Because from where I’m sitting--” you sit upright, right down on him so his erection is trapped between his abdomen and your wet heat, “--you’re still the innocent boy who doesn’t now how to fuck me.”

You’re not entirely sure how he does it, flipping from submissive boy trapped beneath you to you suddenly being on your back with Mark’s mouth ravaging your throat, and his cock rutting between your legs, still not inside you, but now it’s you who groans at the tease. His erection glides over your clit, and each time you feel a zip of pleasure.

You grip at his arms, fingers digging into muscle, and then Mark’s cock slips and on the next thrust, he fucks right into you.

Both of you moan as he sinks inside you, his teeth catch at your throat, instantly soothed again by his lips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mark mumbles the words against your skin. “You’re so soft, warm. Heavenly.” He buries his face in your neck, his entire body presses against yours--chest and hip, legs tangled together as he shallowly fucks into you while sucking at your throat.

This is intimate and strange and fascinating and fantastic. Your usual partners are just quick fucks that you feed off of their sexual energy and then you leave. It’s not intimate at all, no matter how many times you’d fucked them, there was no intimacy--rarely were attempts made by them, and never by you--but here you can’t get enough of this. You just want Mark closer until you can’t feel where your form ends and Mark begins.

Your fingernails scrape the back of his neck, twisting in his hair as you bring his busy lips from your throat to your lips, needing to satiate the hunger.

This is pure lust, addiction to him and his addiction to you.

You’re not even feeding off the sexual energy of this intercourse, just existing in the moment for the carnality of it all.

Mark’s thrusts grow bigger, deeper, more powerful, and you wrestle with him, letting him stay on top until suddenly you want him beneath you. You want to fuck him, to ride him, and that lasts for a bit until you’re on your belly pressed into the bed, Mark thrusting into you from behind with his lips against your cheek as he murmurs praises. There’s teeth and nails, Mark’s hair sticks to his forehead with sweat. He shivers in delight when you press him again beneath you, circling your hips on his cock, tracing your fingers over the raised pink lines from your nails down his chest.

He looks high, his pupils wide, his skin flushed, and he’s alive with a glowing energy that calls out to you, begging you to drink it in. But you don’t want that here. You just want this, to feel a part of this, to make him feel the best you can because experiencing sex like this with Mark where you’re not using your demon powers feels absolutely insane, makes you feel even better than when you do answer that call, and drink off the energy of your partner.

His hand snaps against your ass, and you realize you’ve just been sitting there, gazing down at him in admiration. “Move, baby.” And he does it again.

“Fuck, Mark. Do you go to confession and tell the priest that you dream about getting fucked by a demon like this?” You roll your hips, sinking forward until your lips are beside his ear. “Do you confess your sins. Forgive me, Father, but I let a demon into my life. She fucked me so good I stopped being a priest because her pussy is worth it.”

Mark moans.

“Forgive me, Father, but when I was a priest, she made me cum for her in the Church, on holy ground.” You squeeze around his cock, and he lets out a beautiful sound. “Mmm, forgive me, Mark, but I think no amount of confession will make up for sinning like this, loving every single thing we’re doing right now.”

“Holy--!” Mark’s voice cuts off as you sit up, curling your delicate fingers around his throat. His eyes roll back from the pleasure, and you just smile down at him, applying pressure to his throat and circling your other thumb around his nipple. He blinks and looks up at you, his mouth hanging open in soundless awe and appreciation, his eyes glowing with lust and something else. You just want to make him feel good.

You press forward, unable to hold back, needing to feel his lips on yours as you ride him, as you feel that pleasure seeping through your body, a warm silvery-golden glow as your toes curl and your body goes warm and light and fuzzy.

Mark’s hands are on you -- on your hips and your hands and in your hair and on your thighs, touching you all over, pressing you down as he bucks up into you, and then he’s cumming and it feels so good too, better than when the others have done it.

You keep kissing him, rolling your hips down on him, wanting to keep this feeling going. It’s one you’ve never truly felt before.

But eventually it must end, and you roll off to the side, and Mark follows, not wanting to let you get too far. He tucks his face against your neck, breath hot and damp on your skin, and his thigh slips comfortably between yours. You feel sticky and sweaty all over in places you didn’t know you could be sweaty, and you feel like you need to catch your breath.

Mark drops a singular tiny kiss to the center of your chest, and then he pulls back, his head resting on one side of the pillow, yours on the other, only a few bare inches between the tips of your noses. You’ve never been this close to a human before (on multiple levels) and you don’t pull back.

“I made a deal with a demon,” Mark whispers, and he uses a finger to brush back a section of sweaty hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Or at least, I meant to. Don’t leave me.”

“Mark, I won’t kill you.” You tell him, absolutely refusing to let this go where he seems to carelessly want it to go.

His fingers tighten in your hair. “Then give it up. I want you. All the time. And it’s not just because you’re a succubus. I know that’s part of the enchantment, I completely understand that, but I know in a deeper place in my heart that I crave you in a way that’s separate from your crazy, mystical demon powers, okay? Give it up.”

You stare into his eyes, his wide and innocent and hopeful eyes. You want to do it for him. You want to give Mark whatever he asks for. But... “I can’t. This is who I am, I can’t just give up being a succubus. It’s what I was brought into existence to be.”

Mark shakes his head. “I refuse to believe that. You’re a demon, but what are demons except fallen angels.” His thumb strokes over your cheek. “And I see an angel when I look at you.”

You roll your eyes and push his hand away. You sit up, ready to leave his bed, to flee into the unknown from him. But Mark’s fingers circle tightly around your wrist.

“I know how to summon you, I’ll just bring you back,” he says.

“And if I asked you not to?” You flex your wrist, testing his hold. “If I told you that I truly wanted you to leave me alone. What then?”

Mark’s hand falls away and he closes his eyes, turning onto his back to face the ceiling. “I would leave you alone. I would wish I could have convinced you to stay. Because I can see that you want to be here as much as I want you to stay.” He opens his eyes, looking right at you. “You gave me your name before you left, you opened this path for me to find you again, so you must have wanted me to, right?”

Right.

“So stay. I’m a theological man, and I’ve done my research into demonology and the supernatural, into good and evil. You think you’re just a demon, but I think you’re an angel, and somewhere in between where you stand and where I stand is a happy medium, a place where you and I can have this--” he gestures between your two bare bodies in his bed “--without you being afraid of destroying my soul.”

This is absolutely ridiculous.

You want it more than you can explain.

“Make a deal with me, demon.” Mark says, taking your hand in his, guiding it to his chest. He presses your palm flat over his heartbeat. “Stay with me, and I’ll help you become the angel that I know you are.”

This story began with a demon set on destroying her sexual victims and with a priest certain of his fate as a celibate holy man, and now you’re here. Both of you have already come so far from where you began.

You take Mark’s hand, guiding it so his palm lays over where your heart would be.

“The deal is true.” You tell him, and Mark gazes into your eyes as he repeats those words back to you, and just like that a bond is formed, a pact made, and you sink down against him, pressing your cheek to his chest as his arms wrap around you.

And this time you stay.

a/n: oops, I knew as soon as I first read this message that it was probably going to end up as a drabble, but damn I didn’t think I’d make it this long lol

If you liked it please reblog, like, comment. If you’re into the corruption of religious figures thing, definitely also check out Righteous a 5-part series by the wonderful @skzctnightnight​ it’s not got demons but it does have seminarian student Mark being tempted by the reader and it’s very hot and good

[butwhatifidothis]

So. Took a look into that fic @nilsh13 is going through the comments of. Dunno if I’ll actually go through the entire thing - 300k words is certainly a lot of words to read through, especially with it still updating, but I’ve read through/am reading through longer ones - but I jumped to the latest chapter to get a feel for where the fic’s at now.

I’m not halfway through the chapter and I have Words To Say lmao, under the cut

This is going to be as serious a critique about the sections I’ve selected as possible - I want to be clear why I think what is being written is not of high quality, pointing out specifically what I have wrong with it. 

Here are some snippets of the fic (boldened), and following those snippets are my thoughts on them:

“My actions have caused immense turmoil, pitting friend against friend, mother against daughter, and brother against sister*,” muttered Edelgard, desperately trying to drive any hint of self-pity (emphasis mine) from her voice. “My best friend has been disowned by her family, Hubert and Ferdinand’s fathers are dead or imprisoned, and the woman I love is now deemed a heretic by the Church that once offered her shelter. The weight of my decisions seems to pull down all who are caught in the shadow of the Imperial crown.” The Flame Emperor gave Professor Hanneman a wan smile. “Whatever imagined slights you believe you have committed against me, they pale in comparison to the carnage my own words and deeds have unleashed.” 

""I made my choice, the only choice I could make, and dragged this continent down to hell with me. It makes me a poor ruler, and an even baser person, but that was the path I knew I must take."" 

“"It is funny you use the word ‘choice’, Miss Edelgard. When I resigned my title to study at Garreg Mach, I lost marriage prospects, became penniless outside of a small stipend…I even renounced the opportunity to have a family.” Hanneman smiled, his whole body suffused with melancholy. “Really, how could I dare to dream of bringing a daughter into a world this senseless and cruel, knowing that someday, she too, could be hurt in such a way? I…I would not survive it.” The man’s body shook. “I sacrificed those things, things I desperately wanted, because the chance to allow my sister to rest in peace was more important. And I would make that choice again, despite all that it has cost me. You are much the same.”"

"“But your sacrifices were your own,” protested the Emperor of Adrestia. “Thousands bleed for the choices that I have made, and sacrifice themselves for the cause that I have placed before them. There is a profound difference-“"

"“We are both wise enough to know a painful truth,” said the scholar with a melancholy smile. “No matter how grave the sins, no matter how many innocents suffer…there will be countless individuals who will defend the law not because it is just, or righteous, but because it is the law. They will permit a hundred Abysses, and a thousand women to be raped, and a million dead children, as long as such actions do not disturb their order.” He placed a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. “To stand against such moral rot, knowing that the world will despise and vilify you for it, is the truest sign of not only a just ruler, but a good woman.”"

"The academic’s words blazed with the passion of both a scholar and a man who had watched his world crumble to ash. A man who had been forced to live in the remnants of a life forever altered by the cruelty of both society and of humanity. And yet he had fought, the only way he could, to make the world better. It gave the Flame Emperor new resolve."

"“I…” He turned and looked away. “I believe in you, Miss Edelgard. When I see you, and your determination, your spirit, your bravery in choosing not what is easy, but what is right…it reminds me of her.” Fingers clenched around his locket. “I will fight for you, in the way I should have fought for my sister, long ago. My strength is meagre, and my courage more meagre still. However, all of it is yours.”" 

The author writes Edelgard as one trying to give pity onto herself for her actions, despite how negatively they affect her, due to the immense ramifications those actions have had on those both around her and those under her care. This is the appropriate response to someone who has done as morally dubious an action as starting and spearheading a war that has led to the deaths and suffering of countless innocent people, some of whom were undoubtedly already going through immense suffering without war compounding itself onto their already existing pain. She - rightfully - points as, as a negative towards herself, that she has forced thousands of people to sacrifice their lives, livelihoods, friends, family, homes, etc. in order to continue with her war. Edelgard's canonical self-justification - that she had no other choice to do this - is properly utilized, and further characterization is given to her when she herself recognizes that performing such horrendous actions on the people under her care makes her a poor ruler and terrible person. This is, in truth, a decent set-up for her to go onto a possible path of redemption or self-realization.

However, that progress is forcibly stopped and reverted by Hanneman justifying her actions and recontextualizing them in a morally good light. In fact, the entire story does this, as characters act wildly out of character in order for Edelgard to be seen as good in comparison to them. Focusing on the quoted lines, however, Hanneman relating him giving up nobility and going into momentary poverty - whether true to canon or not - to Edelgard's war actively paints her actions as something that she had a right to be making, which she does not, as they force others to make sacrifices for her cause. When she herself rightfully points this discrepancy out, Hanneman excuses her actions by pointing to another - supposed - source of turmoil and essentially saying "You are more right than x, therefore your y actions are not only better, but objectively good, and make you a good person." He says nothing of the inherent injustice of taking away the choice of the people to live as they want and fight for who they want as well as deliberately taking away any semblance of safety from them, and makes objective statements about Edelgard's moral righteousness despite her taking actions that would, by definition, make her moral righteousness a subjective matter at minimum.

Hanneman is projecting the image of his sister and his own personal sense of justice onto Edelgard, and thus sees her as just as much a victim of the war and society as everyone else. Edelgard is a young woman who has gone through trauma due to Crests, as was his sister, and he himself (in this story, though not within the quoted lines) wanted to beat the man who abused his sister to death, and so he sees Edelgard using violence as a means to achieve justice as not only not questionable, but morally good and brave, as he felt he was not brave enough to enact "justice" onto the man that caused his sister's death. Instead of this being settled, focused on, or even mentioned, despite its obvious nature due to deliberate connections Hanneman himself makes, it is used as a means to showcase that Hanneman is a, for lack of a better term, "expert" on what he is saying when speaking to Edelgard. He knows what it's like to want to force change, he has by-proxy experienced the apparent injustice of the Church - not human society, not his family's decision to allow his sister to be married off, not the man who caused her death's decision to discard her, but strictly the Church and only the Church - and so he can "rightfully" justify and excuse Edelgard's morally questionable actions and paint them in a solely positive light, with no nuance or gray whatsoever.

Edelgard, in the first quote, attempts to say her actions without a tone of self-pity, and yet the narrative itself pities Edelgard. She should be allowed to feel bad about her actions - not because they are causing unfathomable suffering on people who were underserving, but because they’re just hard decisions that she was good and brave to make and maybe she can feel a little bad for herself for making them. She shouldn't feel responsible for choosing to start the war - in fact, did she really have a choice, or did everyone else in society force her to? She shouldn't question whether she's a good person or not, because she simply is - no debate, no question. She is - “justly” - standing up against "moral rot"; that she does so with even more moral rot is irrelevant, because, according to the story, it is not as rotten as that she's up against, therefore it is no longer rotten in the first place. War has been completely justified, as it is now not the last resort of desperation that could only ever be morally grey at its absolute best, but an objectively morally white decision of an objectively morally white person who is facing an objectively morally black opponent.

The actions of other characters attempt to paint Edelgard as someone closer to the former, but I will - maybe - eventually go over how those characters are extremely mischaracterized in order to prop Edelgard as their moral superior. 

[locustheologicus]

Heretics and Mendicants: Embracing the Diversities of Christian Spirituality While Struggling with our own Errors.

One of my favorite historical periods has been the 13th century. There were many developments and achievements that happened around medieval Europe that would impact our own society and define much of what we know today. One of the developments during that period was the diversity of thought and spirituality that emerged with various religious movements. Eventually history would define these as heresies or acceptable religious movements but, as Fr. Casey tells us in his video above, these concepts never go away. While history does end up judging the movements one way or another, in the moment, they intermingled and helped developed Christian spirituality in a way that responds to the social context of the time. Heresies carries with it a negative connotation but it means diverse teaching that is not completely orthodox.

In 2002 one of my favorite movies of St. Francis of Assisi came out titled Francesco. This movie is in Italian but I consider it one of the most accurate movies that portrays the life and time of this great Saint. In an early part of this movie you see that Francis is in jail after a failed attempt to fight a crusade. He encounters a “heretic” who introduces him to sacred scripture, a privelege that many did not have access to. Although we do not know for sure if this encounter took place, the implication is that Francis may have encountered a Waldensian, a religious movement that embraced the evangelical counsel of poverty and promoted the knowledge of sacred scripture. What we do know is that Francis will eventually develop a movement that truly embraces the poverty of Christ through the mendicant order that bears his name. The Waldensians will eventually fall out of favor with the Church for its radical departure from Church structure while the Franciscans will maintain its similar spirituality while respecting the role and structure of the Church. This is an excellent movie and I certainly recommend it.   

Fr. Casey highlights heretical movements that have a strong influence in our own society. He raises the following: arianism, docetism (gnosticism), monophysitism, pelagianism, and donatism. I have said before that I think it is important to follow the socratic formula, “know thyself and to thyself be true.” This would include owning and embrace diverse ways of thinking and even having recognize that sometimes we have a tendency to follow some ideas that may not be completely orthodox. For those of us who follow a specific creed because we believe in the tradition of that religious belief we may want to struggle with the unorthodox principles that we have. When I say struggle I do not mean that we stop believing in the concepts that we may question but to balance what our God-given conscience tells us about our faith and belief system with the magisterium (teaching authority) that we respect. We may need to suspend aspects of our belief until we can reconcile them (if we can) with how our magisterium teaches this. If we cannot do this then we may have to vote with our feet as it were. I believe that St. Francis teaches us how to strike this balance with the Catholic Church. 

Two of these heresies have been also raised by Pope Francis in his exhortation Gaudete et Exsultate. He raises his own concern for contemporary gnosticism and contemporary pelagianism. Our Holy Father offers the following definitions for these two prevelant forms of modern day Christian heresies. 

Gnosticism presumes “a purely subjective faith whose only interest is a certain experience or a set of ideas and bits of information which are meant to console and enlighten, but which ultimately keep one imprisoned in his or her own thoughts and feelings”. (GE, #36)

Those who yield to this pelagian or semi-pelagian mindset, even though they speak warmly of God’s grace, “ultimately trust only in their own powers and feel superior to others because they observe certain rules or remain intransigently faithful to a particular Catholic style”. (GE, #49)

To any who follow my blog, you may have recognized that I have a tendency to follow a semi-pelagian spirituality. This post is an example of where I embrace certain teachings of Pelagius, the fourth century monk. I have also raised my own concern for how contemporary gnoticism has threatened religion and politics in America in yet another post. These heresies, along with arianism, have impacted the form of Christianity that we believe in here in the United States. As Fr. Casey points out, the form of arianism that we face is the secular type. Arianism allows us to have a Jesus that is anything less than divine. Many secular Christians seem to prefer having a Jesus that is a teacher, philosopher prophet, or moral examplar. He is up there, but not quite the Son of God. This is a belief system that appeals to secular Christians but not so much the members of the faith community. Those of us who identify as Christians and confess the divinity of Christ teeter between the gnostic/pelagian heresies.   

Modern day gnosticism/docetism allows Catholic conservatives to promote a narrow interpretation of the faith that fits a political ideology. It’s a heresy that glorifies the divinity of Christ while denigrating (or gently dismissing) his humanity. A causalty of this is that the material/secular world is condemned as evil or irredeemable. In many ways this ideological control of the faith has resurfaced this heretical form. It has made an historical comback throughout history, during the 13th Century this heresy was identified within the Cathar movement. In today’s era it is surfacing in forms of conservative evangelism intermingled with alt-right indoctrination. It is my opinion that in the American Christian context this is the greatest heresy threatening our own Christian spirituality.

But then you do have people like me, those of us who are neither relativist secularist (arianism) nor conservative ideologues who politicize Christianity into an anti-secular religious doctrine (gnosticism). We are the ones who toy with semi-pelagian ideals and yes, we are capable of jumping into the heretical waters as well. In response to gnostic tendencies those who follow this spirituality articulate a form of lived Chrstianity that can respond to the invitation to follow the imitatio dei from the discipline of our own free will. Fr. Casey and Pope Francis’ reminds us is to never forget the role of God’s grace in our own salvation. In my case, I respond against the passive ideological spirituality that American gnostics have by employing a live faith and pursuing the mission of Christ in promoting social justice through service and advocacy. My error is to assume that I can bring about this vision through my own devices and in my own time, my heretical tendency will lead me to embrace the sin of my own hubris. To combat this error I must acknowledge the need for God’s grace and to accept that this mission is His and not my own. Jesuit spirituality allows me to dabble with this spirituality while being attentive to these heretical tendencies.          

Christian spirituality is very diverse and there is nothing wrong with that. The Nicene Creed allows us to have a doctrinal baseline that defines the faith for Christians. Beyond the creed we are allowed to embrace a diverse way of practicing the faith. In a previous post I mentioned my own diverse Catholic spirituality and rituals. The various mendicant and monastic communities demonstrate that distinct ways that religious communities allow Catholics to practice their faith. They all recognize the fundamental evangelical counsels: chastity, poverty, and obedience, but beyond that their spiritual charism are very diverse.