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idratherdreamofjune · 3 years

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@sunheart wrote in her tags on another post:

Genuinely hate being alive ... I completely understand on so many levels why you would hate being a woman. Its horrible. And then as a Christian there's this whole really ugly dynamic- that i know is probably a lie i just haven't worked out how yet- that we're the 2nd best. The afterthought. The mediocre option. Almost everything in life men are better at and it's hard to believe it's just cultural- math logic leadership writing cooking writing physical activities on and on, and women are good at being Nice :) Which ok i like being nice but it's like that's my only option I feel like any other impact i might wish to have upon the world will be paltry in comparison to what i could do if only i was a man. I feel incompetent. Irrational. Emotional. Obnoxious. I feel like I'm supposed to be a plaything for the beings that were *actually* created to be in harmony with God like I'm not supposed to have a connection with God- only through my husband which what does that make me as a single childless bitch? I can't even fulfill the main point of my existence. Jesus interacted with women but did he care about them like he did the men? David and John were named his favorites not Deborah or Hannah. And like i said i'm sure none of that's true but i don't know how and it feels awful. hate it.

Hopefully others have shared encouragement on this already, but just in case I wanted to give some thoughts. Please know that if I sound riled at all (and I’m going to try to avoid that) I’m not upset at anyone who feels this way but am deeply upset by the enemy’s lies that so many are hurt by. As a younger believer I did struggle with some of these questions myself, and for a long time it was difficult to reconcile these concerns with the promises that God loves me.

Your instincts are right - it is a lie that women are second best. And before I go any further let me also agree that yes, we are physically weaker than men and have other weaknesses too. But since when has weakness meant that someone is any way “less than” others? Men have weaknesses too, just different ones. That’s the nature of humanity: every person is a mixed bag of strengths and weaknesses. I’ve never heard before that men are better at cooking?? My dad literally struggles to cook a hotdog in the microwave and has never touched a grill in his life. And okay men may (possibly, not sure on this one either) be inherently better at math, but which gender is drastically underrepresented in the nursing field? I suspect there are fewer male teachers, too, though not as huge a disparity. Men are more prone to recklessness and violence - part of the reason married men live longer (gotta get that stable influence). Again yes men are physically stronger but have you watched ballet dancers (oooh i mean ballerinas, sorry there’re so few ballerinos that I forgot to differentiate) or female gymnasts? Nothing “less than” there! The famous Proverbs 31 woman is a good insight into Biblical support of female abilities and value: “strength and dignity are her clothing”, “she opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.” “Let her works praise her in the gates.” (The gates were essentially the city hall or forum of ancient Israel.)

Going back to the beginning - women were created second, true. But did God not know His own plan? He was always going to create women. And the really amazing thing that I learned in the last couple of years is that, when God says He’s going to make Adam “a helper” (Hebrew ”ezer”), that’s the same word that is used to describe God’s actions for His people throughout the Old Testament: - Exodus 18:4 “The God of my father was my help.” - 1 Samuel 7:12 “Ebenezer” means “rock of help” and is a memorial of Yaweh’s help. - Psalm 30:10 “Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me! O Lord, be my helper!” - Psalm 115:11 “You who fear the Lord, trust in the Lord, He is their help and their shield” - Psalm 121:2 “My help comes from the Lord” - Hosea 13:9 “‘You are against Me, against your helper.’“

It is a common word for “help” used in other settings, yes, but the fact that it’s used of God illustrates that this is no poor or second-rate role. Helping - aiding - supporting - incredibly important! In fact this article I just found puts it this way:

In two cases it refers to the first woman, Eve, in Genesis 2. Three times it refers to powerful nations Israel called on for help when besieged. In the sixteen remaining cases the word refers to God as our help. He is the one who comes alongside us in our helplessness. That's the meaning of ezer. Because God is not subordinate to his creatures, any idea that an ezer-helper is inferior is untenable. In his book Man and Woman: One in Christ, Philip Payne puts it this way: "The noun used here [ezer] throughout the Old Testament does not suggest 'helper' as in 'servant,' but help, savior, rescuer, protector.'

Moving on to the New Testament, and the topic of John, who is known as “the disciple whom Jesus loved”. John is the one who wrote the book which tells us that (under the direction of the Holy Spirit, yes) and he only uses that wording as a title, in place of his name. Nowhere does it say he was the favorite disciple, or even most loved, just that he was loved. To me it seems more as if John is saying “Jesus loved me! Can you believe it?!” It has a feeling of awe and thankfulness as opposed to superiority.

Getting into marriage specifically, I do believe that a wife should be under the headship of her husband ...mainly in the sense of letting him have the last word on decisions and plans. This is in part due to differing areas of strength, and in part because in some situations it’s better to have a family leader - most groups of humans need a leader, and following an assigned (or picked) leader does not make one inferior. All that being said, a wife should be able to provide input, advice, and feedback to her husband, who should take into strong consideration his wife’s needs, insights, and concerns (Ephesians 5:25-29).

The lie that women cannot be connected to God outside of their husband is refuted not only by all the vibrantly faithful single or windowed Christian ladies of history (Amy Carmichael, Gladys Aylward, Mary Slessor, and Elisabeth Elliot are some of my favorites) but also Scripture itself. When Christ spoke with the divorced Samaritan woman the disciples were shocked not because she was a Samaritan but because she was a woman (John 4:27; she was shocked on both counts - John 4:9) - I hope they got used to it because Jesus spoke with women a lot. Despite the culture of the time, Jesus clearly had very warm and caring direct relationships with Martha and Mary, Mary Magdalene, and other women. Anna the Prophetess in the temple had been widowed for decades and was serving God alone “night and day” (Luke 2:37). Incredibly, in a culture where women were looked down upon, the Lord chose women to be the first to discover the empty tomb, and Mary Magdalene to be the first to see the risen Christ! I love that passage so much (John 20:11-18).

Another example is when Jesus stopped on His way to heal Jairus’ daughter (i.e. He put aside a powerful man’s urgent request) to lovingly interact with the woman who’d suffered bleeding for years - a terribly personal and female problem (Mark 5:21-35).

To try to wrap up, I’ll return to David in the OT, who was a “man after God’s own heart”. But again, it doesn’t say that he was actually a favorite - it does say David was chosen by God though, to lead Israel and establish the family from which Jesus would ultimately come. You know who else was chosen? Esther - “for such a time as this”. Once she realizes the task she must complete, she tells Mordecai how it’s going to go, and “Mordecai then went away and did everything Esther had ordered him.” Esther gets a book named after her and is remembered in the holiday of Purim to this day. Also note that Esther was married to an unbeliever. Likewise Ruth was chosen, as a young foreign widow, to be part of the Messiah’s kingly line. As an aside, my favorite thing about Ruth’s story (besides all the faith and beauty of it) is the simultaneous deep respect and protectiveness Boaz shows towards her (okay enough mush). Anyhow what it comes down to is that God chooses and loves both men and women, and both have a place (singly and married) in His plans and kingdom. See also Galatians 3:28 “ There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

This post has all over the place, and I probably forgot a bunch of things I wanted to add (if anything else comes to mind I’ll add it later), but I hope it’s been encouraging. Yes I’ve struggled with some aspects of how women are portrayed in the Bible, but what I shared above, plus the love and blessings I’ve known as a single woman are more than enough evidence that we are known and loved. If anything is unclear or anyone has any questions please speak out/send an ask! Anon asks are on too. Also if anyone wants to add or amend anything do so without hesitation!!

#marriage #women in the Bible #Book of Ruth #Book of Esther #singleness #Scripture #lies

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betelgeusing · 3 years

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chance @cadimonsignal tagged me ayyyyy

last song: fka twigs, mary magdalene last movie: echo boomers currently reading: knockemstiff by donald ray pollock, a story lately told by anjelica huston, sorcerer to the crown by zen cho currently watching: the great currently craving: my dad just sent me a pic of the massive $5 basket of chicken fingers and fries he's having at Toot's right now. so that

tagging the usual suspects: @prentissed @groves @sonnywortzik @bloodyholly @stewartandtheskids @benwishaw @ravenkings @pinkmanage @ghoulhotline

#if I forgot you DO IT ANYWAY #I had a salad for lunch and it was a GOOD one but now....... chikun..........

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writersrealmbts · 5 years

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Painted Crown: Part 4/End

Description: You have faithfully served the royal family for years. But as reality sets in, Jungkook, a prince from a neighboring kingdom, offers you something you had never dreamed of having.

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 08/27/2019

Tags: Jungkook x reader, Prince!Jungkook, Prince!Taehyung, Prince!Hoseok

?: 3,333 words

A/N: I literally just finished writing this and haven’t had time to proofread because I need to get ready to leave, so I’m sorry for any mistakes!

You gazed out at the town through the carriage windows, worry starting to gnaw at your stomach at the impending meeting with Jungkook’s parents. Your father had no objections or qualms over you marrying Jungkook, but he was a prince. You were not a princess, and you were well aware that both princes may be disillusioned with their parents expectations regarding Jungkook’s marriage. “It’s beautiful.” “I’m glad you like it.” Jungkook gently took your hand. “You see that street there, that we’re passing?” You nodded, noting the colorful banners of market stalls and the spacious conditions of the roads. “That’s the best street to ride down in the mornings, the kids on their way to school and the stalls not quite open yet. And then walking to the school with the kids, before riding into the fields and back to the castle. It’s great.” “Jungkook always buys the kids fruits when he rides there in the mornings,” Hoseok said, smiling proudly at his younger brother. “Studying while hungry is the worst,” Jungkook said, dread in his voice at the thought of it. “All those days with Jongsil staring down his nose at me while he incanted the history of four centuries ago and the genealogies of rulers so long gone that their names don’t even grace the halls of the dead in what’s been the capital of our country since it was founded: all on an empty stomach because he always came between morning and evening meals, right when I would take my midday meal.” You laughed softly. “You’d think you would have learned to take a snack with you.” Hoseok laughed at that as Jungkook just sort of gaped at you like the thought had never occurred to him. You laughed a little louder at his face, then kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry, I will ensure your meals are never missed unless it absolutely cannot be helped. A morning ride such as the one you described does sound lovely. Perhaps I could join you on your next one?” He smiled at you and nodded. “I would love that.” “I should have ridden my horse instead of being stuck in here with you,” Hoseok muttered, looking out the window. You smiled up at Jungkook, who grinned back shyly. “You know, I did hear that you are betrothed to a princess in the south. If you’re that jealous of us, you could always go ahead with the marriage plans.” Hoseok looked at you with a mix of surprise, discomfort, and horror. Jungkook started laughing. “Don’t act jealous if you’re not ready to tie the knot, hyung.” Hoseok put a hand over his heart like you had given him the biggest scare in his life. “Do you even know what she is like?” You asked. “I have heard rumors here and there,” Hoseok replied, shrugging. “She’s beautiful, and kind. She’s the second of twelve sisters. There’s some sort of trouble over there recently, I think.” He shook his head. You frowned slightly. “What sort of trouble?” “A curse, on all of the sisters.” You felt your eyes widen. “All twelve?” “Yeah, so we’ll probably go in a year or so to find out what really is going on. Then we’ll either solidify the betrothal agreement, or render it null.” Hoseok shrugged, looking out the window and sighing with a stretch as the carriage entered the castle gate. “Meaning you’re going to drag me all the way to another kingdom to see if you actually want to marry this girl and if you don’t you’re going to have me help you convince father that it would do the country more ill than good?” Jungkook asked, sighing and looking out the window. “Like you did with the last princess mother wanted you to marry?” “She laughed like a donkey and had the manners of a hag,” Hoseok muttered, folding his arms. “I couldn’t live with that. No matter the good the alliance could do to the kingdom. I couldn’t make her the future queen of our kingdom.” Jungkook gave you a look that said that the princess they spoke of was only the latest in a long line of potential matches. You smiled softly. “I’m sure you will find the right princess for both the kingdom and yourself, my lord.” “I told you, call me Hoseok.” “Mmm, perhaps after the wedding,” You countered quietly, looking at your hands before taking a breath as the door to the carriage opened. “A maid will show you to your room to freshen up, then I’ll meet you in the great hall and we will introduce you to my parents,” Jungkook told you quickly. You nodded as Hoseok dismounted and turned back to help you instead of the footman. Over the trip you had learned that they preferred to do it over having the footman help you, but had yet to learn the reason why. The footman, a nice fellow who played the lute, was just as mystified, but far more accustomed to it. And though protocol would usually have you exiting the carriage first, they preferred to have one of them exit first, a precaution outside of the castle in case of danger. You had tried to argue that you were much more dispensable than either of them, and were met with intense reproach and rebuttal. You surveyed the castle with guarded awe, stomach churning as you looked up at the daunting fortress. It was larger than the one you were accustomed to. If you were staying, it would take you at least two weeks to memorize the layout of the castle. “Don’t worry, it looks friendlier on the inside,” Hoseok told you, amusement lacing his voice. You looked at him. “I hope you’re right.” His face softened as he continued smiling at you. “I am. Everything will be fine.” Jungkook hopped out in a very undignified manner, stretching. “Oh, it’s good to be back. Let’s get away from the crowd, yeah?” “Jungkook, could you at least act like a prince?” You asked, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you took his offered arm. Hoseok snickered and strutted toward the entrance. Jungkook looked a little taken aback. “What do you mean?” “I mean, don’t you think they’ll judge whether or not I’m a good match for you based on your own behavior as well as my own?” You asked in a quieter voice. He smiled. “Of course. I apologize, y/n. I wasn’t thinking.” A maid came over and curtsied to you. “My lady, I will be showing you to your room, if it please you.” “Thank you, what is your name?” You asked, releasing Jungkook’s arm. She looked a little shocked at the question, leading you to believe you would have your work truly cut out for you. “Rose, ma’am.” “Rose, yes, please do lead the way,” You said, turning to bid adieu to Jugnkook. “Try to rest, y/n.” He bent to kiss your hand, then walked quickly over to where a knight was waiting. You sighed silently, gazing after him a moment before looking back to Rose. “I apologize, I’m keeping you waiting.” “No, ma’am, it’s alright. Just this way, please,” She said, sounding nervous now as she quickly turned to lead you through the castles. You were led to nice bedchambers, very spacious and richly furnished, though maybe not completely to your own taste. “Some of your things have yet to be brought up,” Rose apologized with a curtsy. Two more maids were standing by in your room. “We’ve drawn a bath and prepared a gown for milady to change into,” One of them, an older woman, likely of some standing in the staff said. “Shall I assist while they unpack your things?” You hesitated in your response. She had a twinkle in her eye. “Or perhaps milady would prefer I defer my assistance until after she has bathed and changed into clean underthings.” “Yes, that would be…preferable.” “Her majesty also sent a gown for you, as a present, wishing you to wear it to this evening’s dinner,” the other maid said, curtsying. You looked past her to the gown that lay on the bed. “I am sure I am grateful.” However it really wasn’t your color. Actually, it was the opposite of your color. And it looked like it was made for someone half your size. And half your age. “However, I would like my blue gown for this evening if this gift should…prove…” “To be the wrong size?” Rose offered. “Yes, thank you. I apologize, it must have been a longer journey than I expected. What are your names?” You asked the new maids. You suspected they were appointed to be your ladies maids by the queen (providing you weren’t rejected by their majesties) and you weren’t about to be that naked with strangers. “Brigitte,” The younger said with a curtsy. “Magdalene.” The elder sort of bowed instead. “Pleased to meet you both. My blue gown should be in that trunk over there, likely towards the top. And my slippers should be just underneath.” “Yes, ma’am,” Brigitte curtsied again. You nodded and headed into the chamber where Magdalene had gestured when speaking of the bath. She followed behind you, hanging your underthings and then laying a towel out for you. “Just leave your clothing in the basket over there and I’ll see that they’re cleaned. It must have been a long journey, so take your time and try to relax. You’ve a few hours before I am to show you to the great hall to meet his highness.” “He sent instructions in advance with some of our luggage, I take it?” You asked in a hushed tone. “Yes, miss. The castle has been buzzing with word of your coming. Word’ll soon spread to the town. We were all surprised, though. The younger prince has always been so shy.” You felt the water to check the temperature, noting the rose petals floating in the water. “Indeed. I am as surprised as anyone. But he’s so…universally charming. He’s everything a young man ought to be if he can. He has his faults, we all do. Mine is to doubt, and expect the fragility of the situation to crack and disappear through my fingers as sand at any moment. I was the young princess’s lady in waiting. I was to teach her diplomacy, war tactics, and politics. How did I end up here?” “If I had to guess, my lady?” You looked to her, waiting. She smiled warmly. “You fell in love.” You looked away, the corner of your mouth turning up into a smile. “How could I not? Am I a fool, do you think?” “No, miss. I think you’re very far from a fool, and I think the Prince may have made a very wise decision. To teach those things, you have to know them, I would think.” She bowed a bit again. “Begging your pardon, miss, my knees can’t bend like they used to.” “Then do not stress them on my account. Thank you, Magdalene. I shall call when I’m ready for your assistance.” You smiled at her. She bowed a bit again, and left you to your bath. After a long soak, you changed into a gown the maids had picked out for you to meet the king and queen in, which was one you had picked in your mind to wear as well, and allowed Brigitte to do your hair (it was her specialty). Then you picked at some cosmetic lotions and such that the queen had also gifted you with the assistance of both maids before using a simple lip tint that you had brought from home. You wore your mother’s pearl necklace and earrings with a sapphire necklace your father had given you at your coming-of-age gala. You stared at yourself in the mirror, looking for flaws and seeing all of them. “You look beautiful, my lady,” Brigitte breathed, looking genuinely awed. “Just as a princess should.” “I do not wish to mislead them,” You whispered, smoothing the already smooth fabric of your bodice. “You shan’t, my lady. It is time to go meet the prince,” Magdalene said gently. You could understand why she was assigned to assist you now, and were grateful that the head of the maids had had the foresight to give you someone like Magdalene to assist you. Jungkook was talking with some noble-looking men in the great hall, but his face lit up when he saw you, causing the other two men to turn. You curtsied to them. “You look beautiful, y/n, as always,” Jungkook said softly, taking your hand and kissing it, but he never released it again. “May I present Lord Kim Yugyeom and Jung Jaehyun, Duke of Betasilla.” The bowed as though you were a princess, despite you curtsying in respect to their positions, which led to some awkward glances. You smiled at them. “I take it you are close to Jungkook?” “Ah, yes, we grew up together,” Yugyeom answered, looking mischieviously at Jungkook. “Unfortunately we should head to the throne room, my parents are eager to meet you,” Jungkook intervened quickly, as if sensing the trouble brewing behind that gaze. “See you at the feast tonight.” “We’ll be toasting to the two of you loudest,” Jaehyun responded with a grin, raising a hand as though he were holding a chalice already. Jungkook led you away at a brisk pace. “Jungkook,” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. “You’re walking a little too quickly for me.” He came to an abrupt halt. “Sorry.” You blinked a few times to compose yourself. “Are you nervous?” “No,” He answered immediately. “Those two were just liable to make up some nonsense story to try and make me look bad in front of you.” You smiled and placed your free hand on his arm. “If you thought I was that easily swayed, then you would not have brought me here.” He looked at your face and smiled back. “Yeah. Ready?” “Not remotely, however we should not keep them waiting.” He nodded and led you into the throne room, bowing as your curtsied in the proper manner after reaching the point where you were in front of the King and Queen. “Father, mother, this is Lady Y/n. I intend to make her my wife.” You tried to suppress your surprise at his blunt greeting, mentally panicking because that is not how you would ever think of presenting a marriage between yourself and Jungkook. “I see,” The King’s voice murmured, a slightly amused tone to the single word he said, but you didn’t dare to look up to try and read his face. “She has been taught in the ways a princess should, with a background in politics and tactics. She understands diplomacy, and propriety. She knows what the lives of the poor look like, as well as the lives of the nobility. She makes me comfortable in crowds, and she’s gentle, but she’s not afraid to put those who have stepped out of line in their proper place. She’s graceful, and looks like an angel on the dance floor.” Jungkook’s voice was so soft and loving that it made you feel warm all over—or maybe that was the embarrassment. “And she’ll probably scold me later for saying all of this in the way that I am.” You were frozen, gaze on the stairs to the dais where the thrones and their occupants were resting. “She’s older than I thought,” The Queen said. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to marry Princess Mala?” “I love y/n,” Jungkook said resolutely as you died a little more inside. You peeked up. The King looked amused while the Queen’s pinched lips wore a frown. “But a marriage to Princess Mala would help the Kingdom.” “Our kingdom is secure, and will be helped with whatever marriage Hoseok-hyung makes. There is something to be said for a wife that can help me help our people.” “And you think that a princess cannot do that, but this nobody can?” “Mother,” Hoseok protested, surprise in his voice. “My dear, she’s hardly nobody. Prince Taehyung and his family wrote us specifically regarding her.” You felt queasy. “Just because of their peculiar regard for her, I am to believe that she will be good for the kingdom?” “Your majesties?” You spoke up, uncertain of what you would say, but needing to say it all the same. “Yes, you have something you wish to say?” The King’s voice was gentle. You looked at Jungkook, who looked frustrated and upset, then back to the King and Queen. “It is true. I do not have the riches, nor the promised peace a union with his highness and a princess would bring. I cannot offer anything in that regard. I can only offer what I do have. I was taught well beyond what normal education is for both women and noblemen. I was taught first because my mother would not have me be a victim to ignorance, then because I was to teach the young princess of my home kingdom. My brain, and my heart are the only things I can offer your kingdom. I would use them to help your son and to try and help your kingdom thrive a prosper within my ability. A princess may know how to do these things, perhaps even better than I. But a kingdom prospers even more when their royals are happy. To be happily married is a privilege many royals would not dream of having.” You couldn’t think of what to say next and looked back up at Jungkook. He was gazing at you with so much warmth and love, that you felt yourself relaxing a little. “I will not lie to you, I did not think I could love him when we first met. But I do now. And I would not have dared to come here, unless he and his highness, Prince Hoseok, had not assured me that I…” You blinked, throat closing on you as you tried to think of the proper words. Jungkook’s hand rested lightly on your back. You closed your eyes as the words ran dry. “You may make the arrangements for the wedding,” The King said. “My dear!” “No, I am convinced. She is correct. Look how the kingdom to the east withered with that arranged marriage, let our boy be happy, let this woman help him improve the conditions for our people. We always brought the kingdom more prosperity by working together, did we not? Let them marry. Hoseok will have to settle down eventually and he’s likely to give us a strategic marriage. We’re at peace with four of our neighboring countries. Times are good.” You looked up in astonishment. Jungkook grinned. “Thank you, father.” His mother’s nose crinkled. “Fine. But if there are any issues, don’t complain to me. And I want her to go through extra ettiquette training.” “I’m sure she’ll pass the training just fine,” hoseok said. You dropped a curtsy before you were practically dragged out of the room by Jungkook. He led you down some back halls and to a private room after a flight of stairs. You looked up at him. “Your father had no protestations, but you never mentioned your mother.” You hit his arm. He kissed you on the lips, firm and sweet and full of relief and happiness. “Because I knew that father would reason with her. She’ll come round once she realizes how perfect you are for me.” “We’re getting married,” You whispered. He nodded with a big smile. “And we’ll live happily together. Yes?” “We’ll try,” You agreed, kissing him. Your prince. There was still much to do, and many trials to go through, but you knew that he wouldn’t ever let you go now. “I love you.” He kissed your forehead. “I love you, my princess.”

—–

Part 3

Masterlist ~ Jungkook Masterpost

#painted crown fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #prince!jungkook #royalty au #bts #bts fic

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ivory-in-rapture · 4 years

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Music meme! Rules: List ten songs you’ve been listening to a lot lately and then tag five people!

I was tagged by @museofnightmare, Thank you!

1. It will come back, Hozier

2.Constant craving, K. D. Lang

3.Pure Feeling, Florence and the machine

4.Mary Magdalene, FKA twigs

5.Christmas tree farm, Taylor Swift

6.Losing my religion, R.E.M

7.Colors, Halsey

8.Ahead by a century, The tragically hip

9. What do you say, Boga

10. Devil’s got your boyfriend, Tracy Bonham

I’m tagging..the usual suspects. You don’t have to do it, obviously!

@francesjanvier @chocolatedeclan @pipedreams-dregs-and-raven-kings @antigonies @snakiyaki

#music

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madscientistjournal · 4 years

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Fiction: Jehovah's Feathers

An essay by Mary Magdalene Farconi, as provided by K. Kitts Art by Leigh Legler

Strapped in his bouncy seat, my son Tyler went off at the exact same moment as the kitchen timer and the doorbell. I verified that nothing was actually gnawing on him and rushed to the brownies. Paul would have to get the door.

From the living room, Cissie yelled, “It’s the bird people.” Being a good girl, she knew not to open the door to strangers, especially those from another planet.

I yelled, “Paul, get the door,” while I yanked the brownies from the oven.

The Home Owners Association bake sale started at 10 AM, and it was already 10:10. In my head, Mrs. Topher, the HOA president, admonished, “In my day, people respected each other and were on time.”

As I dashed toward Tyler, I mumbled, “Yeah, back when Moses parted the Red Sea, most mothers of young children didn’t have to analyze a 270-page watershed impact statement by Monday.”

Before I unbuckled Tyler from his seat, I smelled his problem. The doorbell rang again. “Paul! Get the door!”

From the living room, Cissie yelled, “The bird people are still here.”

I hustled down the hall with Tyler at arm’s length. His room also served as Paul’s home office. Sure enough. Paul had his earbuds in and was playing some computer game. I hip-butted the back of his chair.

Startled, he yelled, “What the–” but stopped in time. We try not to cuss like muleskinners in front of the kids. I handed Tyler over.

“I’m working, Maggie. You do it.” He tried to pass Tyler back.

The doorbell rang a third time. Cissie called, “The bird people are still still here.”

I said, “One, since when is slaying boss monsters a part of your job? And two, it’s Saturday. We agreed on Saturdays you have to help. No questions asked.” As I stomped to the front door, I muttered, “That is if you ever want to have sex again.”

Hand on the knob, I breathed in deeply and exhaled. Bird people are sensitive. I didn’t want to frighten them because they’d take off in a flurry of feathers and shrieks and dump whatever they had in their cloacas. I didn’t have time to hose off the front porch.

I’d worked with several bird people when I’d served as an analyst for the newly established Alien Affairs Bureau. That was until the AAB’s work rules changed and became intolerable for nursing moms. Two months after Tyler was born, I moved to a clean water non-profit with a short commute. The work wasn’t as important, but my hair had stopped falling out. However, when I opened the door, I wondered whether I’d been out of the loop a little too long.

Instead of a group of sleek greenish-blue peacock-cranes, there stood two bedraggled and dull office drones dressed in modified white button-downs and khakis. Their tails were clipped and their wings pressed tightly against their backs. Even the frills on the tops of their heads drooped. They were both so dull in color, I couldn’t tell whether they were male or female, but given the office casual, I guessed males.

Clutched in one of the T-Rex arms that protruded from beneath his breast, the left bird person held a black book. His colleague grasped a plastic sheet upon which text flickered.

I asked, “May I help you?”

Book bird bobbed his head and pressed the first icon on the squawk box on a chain around his neck. In a mellifluous voice, the box intoned, “Good morning! We are in your neighborhood seeking to expand our flock.”

I frowned. If they were looking for females, they were out of luck. Our HOA categorically refused all building permits for aviaries. And with such poor color, I doubted any female would give them the time of day.

He cocked his head and pressed the second icon. The box asked, “Have you been saved by Jesus?”

I face-palmed. Flocking was extremely important to them. It made sense they’d become a target of some strip mall prophet, but where was their female, and why would she allow this to happen? “To which home nest do you belong?”

“Reverend Vernon P. Hogg,” said the plastic paper bird. He passed the flickering sheet over.

The title read: The Watch Perch. The address running along the top was the old non-denominational church that had sold its parking lot to the highway extension.

Articles flitted past on how Jesus could save the faithful from obesity, drunkenness, and bird lice. “No, I mean your mother bird. Who is she?” I tried to return the plastic paper, but the bird refused to take it.

“Our Most Supreme Singing Heart,” he said.

The book bird squawked and his box translated, “She who laid us has asked us to go into the world and find a new flock.”

That was odd. I’d worked with Singing Heart when they set up the reservation. Alpha females never let go of their sons until they could find another female to take them in. Things had to be bad on the Rez for her to cut them loose.

“Where do you sleep?”

The book bird’s box said, “At the church.”

“Except on bingo night, knitter’s club night, and days with AA meetings.”

“Then we sleep in the park.”

“But that’s more difficult now. They cut down the bushes to keep the homeless out.”

These two were definitely nest-mates.

The phone rang and Paul yelled, “It’s Mrs. Topher. She wants to know where you are.”

“Listen, I’ve got to go. Good luck in finding new flock members.” I shut the door before the bird people could object.

I dumped The Watch Perch into the electronics recycle bin and changed from my mommy clothes–puke-stained shirt and yoga pants–to my work clothes of white shirt and blue pants. My resemblance to the male drones was not lost on me. I grabbed a not too stinky towel from the clothes hamper and nestled the hot pan of brownies on the front floorboards of the van. After fetching Cissie and buckling her into the child seat, Paul strolled out with my purse and Tyler.

He asked, “Aren’t you going to take him with you?”

I tucked my purse behind my seat. “Did you clean out and refill the diaper bag like you promised?”

He made a Homer Simpson d’oh face.

I smiled sweetly. “Then, there’s your answer.”

As I backed out of the driveway, Paul came running from the front door, waving the plastic paper. I powered down the window.

“Take this with you. It keeps crawling out of the recycle bin. It beeps and says you owe at least a five-dollar donation.”

Making a face, I took the paper. “I’ll drop it off at the church on the way back.” I shoved it under the brownies. They were no longer hot enough to melt it. Too bad.

Mrs. Topher was a sturdy woman with a toad-like mouth: thin-lipped and broad. This week her hair was an auburn color on the orange side. She lived on the biggest property with a pool deck the size of our entire house. I would’ve thought a competent stylist was within her budget.

Cissie joined the other kids playing tag outside the HOA’s clubhouse, and I settled in the folding chair next to Mrs. Topher. As I cut and bagged the brownies, she added the label and the price.

“Are these boxed or homemade?”

“I baked them myself.”

She marked them two for a dollar and tossed them in the boxed section. “Because you were forty-five minutes late, I assume you’ll work the table until 12:45?”

It wasn’t a question, but I didn’t mind. There were activities for Cissie, and Mrs. Topher pounced on any poor victim who wandered within ten feet of the table, giving me time to wade through the impact statement. An hour in, Mrs. Topher became agitated after receiving a series of texts and calls.

I tried to ignore her harrumphing and heavy sighs, but it was a losing battle. “You seem upset, Mrs. Topher. Is there anything–”

“The cretin bailed on us.”

I could see Mr. Topher in a cluster of men near the parking lot. So it wasn’t a marital issue.

“This is the third investor. Third! They say they’re interested, but once they see the engineer’s report, they lose my phone number.”

Now I understood. The HOA had been trying to get an investor to take over and finish up the subdivision. The bake sale was to help with attorney’s fees. The original builder had gone belly up when he discovered it was harder to drain a swamp than he’d imagined.

“This idiot is suggesting we donate the land to the state as a designated wetlands.”

“That would take care of–”

Her penciled-in eyebrows arched. “If you’d attended the last meeting, you’d know that the tax write-off will not offset the loss in fees. We’ll have to raise the rates again. If there were only some way we could squash that stupid report.”

“Cuz that wouldn’t be illegal or anything,” I said.

Mrs. Topher stared daggers at me.

By 1:15, Cissie and I were at the church. Vernon P. Hogg himself was setting up chairs for the 2 PM book club. Vern looked forty, despite being much younger. From his teeth, I suspected his drug of choice had been meth.

I handed him the plastic paper. “If this thing finds its way back to my house, I’ll report you for littering.”

He sighed and punched in a code. He dropped it in a pile on an old piano with chipped keys. It calmly sat there no longer flashing or inching toward me like a possessed credit card bill.

“Let’s talk about the two bird people,” I said.

“No, let’s not. I was just trying to help them out, and all they’ve brought me is trouble.” He opened a side door and yelled, “Hey, Larry and Curly! Get your feathered asses in here.”

Cissie hid behind me, staring at the scary man. I folded my arms. “If they’re Larry and Curly, who are you? Moe or Shemp?”

“Very funny. I didn’t pick the names, they did.”

The two bedraggled bird people hustled in, bowing and bobbing their long necks. In unison, they clicked an icon on their boxes. “How may we serve you, Father Hogg?”

I raised an eyebrow. Vernon said quickly, “I tol’ you boys. You’re supposed to say, ‘How may we serve Jesus, Father Hogg?'”

The two bird people looked confused and corrected the text associated with that icon.

“It doesn’t matter.” He waved his fingers as if to shoo chickens. “You two are fired. Get out of my church and go darken someone else’s doorstep.” He turned to me. “Are you happy now?”

The two bird people screeched and flapped their clipped wings. “What have we done wrong? How can we make amends?”

They kept tapping the icons repeating those two sentences until Vernon grabbed a mop handle and threatened to beat them. Cissie burst into tears and threw herself in front of the bird people. Her little arms out wide, she yelled, “I won’t let you hurt them!”

Cissie’s action shocked Vernon. He sighed. “I told you all they do is get me in trouble.”

I rested my hand on Cissie’s head. She melted into my leg, wiping snot and tears on the back of her hand. The bird people clustered behind me and froze, as if that made them invisible.

“Jesus!” Vernon shouted. One of them had dumped his cloaca. “Look what I have to clean up!” He spun around twice on the broken-down heel of his faux alligator boots. “I got people comin’! Payin’ people!”

Good thing he didn’t have a cloaca.

“I don’t want them fired,” I said. “I just don’t want anyone to take advantage of them.”

“Taking advantage, hell. I’m helping them out!”

I pointed to the pile of The Watch Perch. I would’ve waved one in his face, but I feared touching them.

He whined, “I paid their vagrancy tickets for sleeping in the park.”

Hands on hips, I asked, “Did you clip their wings?”

He shook his head. “They have to be clipped to get off the Rez. Some new regulation ‘cuz people claimed they were peeking in windows and messing with security.”

I’d heard about no-fly zones, but I hadn’t thought through all the implications. “Can you keep them for a couple more days while I figure something out?”

“Not those two. They’re dumber than pigeons. I’ll keep the other three.”

“Five? You’re housing five bird people?”

“There’re a dozen under the bridges near the river. They’re pouring off the Rez, and they’re all looking as sad as these two. I think they’re starving.”

I looked at my phone. If I ignored the speed limit, I could get to Singing Heart’s compound in two hours. I called to Cissie, “Sweetheart, help the bird people into the van.”

Cissie’s entire being lit up. “I knew you would save them, mommy. I knew you would!” She herded them like ducks outside. I felt a flicker of pride before reality hit. I hadn’t saved anyone.

Larry and Curly strutted through the backyard, eating insects, while I told Paul what happened. He squatted to Cissie’s level. “Did you really do that? Protect those bird people?” She nodded fiercely. He gave her a bear hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

My heart swelled. I kissed Paul on his neck. “You’re a good man.”

Cissie ran off to tell her dollies about her adventures. I fetched the car keys.

Paul shook his head. “It’s late.”

“I’ve got to see for myself. Something’s up.”

He looped his arm around my neck. “Sweetie, you can’t save the world.”

“No, but I simply walked away, and that’s not working for me either.” The emotion made my voice crack.

“You were burned out. With the commute and Tyler–”

“Yeah, but if I don’t do anything at all, then I’m part of the problem. I don’t want that to be the lesson I teach Cissie.”

He met my eye. “After what Cissie did today, are you seriously worried?”

I smiled but hung my head. Paul got out his wallet and handed me cash.

“What’s this for?”

“Gas. But I’m keeping the rest ‘cuz I’m not making dinner. I’m ordering pizza.”

I entered Reservation land at 4:40. It bordered the river in a swampy valley that produced mostly mosquitoes. Singing Heart’s high status had afforded her first choice in picking her home nest site. It was the closest to the blacktop. The climate was hot and humid, but the birds liked it that way. I kept my windows up and the AC on. Singing Heart’s people on average looked better than the two drones, but there were no children in the crèche and even the females were out in the river working.

The two male guards at the entrance of Singing Heart’s aviary were still resplendent with long tails, elegant wings, and piercing black eyes. They sported the sharpened beak spikes and leg spurs of their class. One recognized me and asked me to wait. He sent a small messenger male inside. After a few minutes, I was ushered into the geodesic dome that functioned as Singing Heart’s main dormitory.

Inside resembled a rain forest arboretum. Industrial fans created a slight breeze and made it easier for me to breathe. I walked slowly to keep from sweating too much. Designed for visitors and fledglings, the path wound upward. The adults glided from perches set along the struts two-thirds of the way up the sides. The top of the curved path opened onto a platform for meetings. Above that sat Singing Heart’s nest. One of her daughters roosted in it. The other nests lay empty.

Singing Heart’s frill was up and her feathers fluffed. On the platform, her brown and green plumage shone brightly in the late afternoon sun, but in the dappled places among the plants, she’d have blended in perfectly. Her neck extended, she stood tall. My eye met her beak. For the first time in her presence, I felt the flutter of discomfort and fear, as if the trouble–whatever it may be–was somehow my fault. I asked, “Did you release two males?”

Singing Heart’s wings came away from her body, and all the other birds in the dome came to attention. “Yes. Why?”

Out of nowhere one of the male guards landed with a thump next to me.

I put my hand out in a placating motion. “They’re at my house.”

Singing Heart lifted her knees one at a time and shook out her feathers. The other birds relaxed, and the guard bird moved to the edge of the platform but did not fly off.

“They are good men, but we have no room for them.”

“May I ask why?”

“Come. Walk with me.”

Singing Heart could’ve glided to the exit in a heartbeat, but she walked slowly, one long stride after another, so I could keep up. Once outside of the dome, Singing Heart flicked her tail feathers. The guard remained behind.

“Children can be impetuous and impatient,” she said.

“Are you talking about these two males?” I asked.

“No. My eldest daughter. She couldn’t control herself and fertilized two eggs. I’m sure you saw her nesting.”

“Are resources so tight that you don’t have room for two more?”

“It’s a matter of leadership. If my home nest doesn’t control its population, I can’t ask that of others.”

“The valley looks lush, is there a shortage of food?”

“Your government insists that unless we put in a water treatment plant, we can have no population growth. They say we’re putting too much nitrogen into the water, but they won’t allow us to sell our technology, or use it to back a security you call municipal bonds.”

I pretended to examine the foliage to hide my chagrin. Singing Heart could read facial expressions, and her sight was superior to humans. Like most avians, she had an extra protein in the back of her eye and could see into the ultraviolet range. Her home star was very active and produced a lot of UV. In fact, it had become so active, it was eroding their planet’s atmosphere. That’s why they’d come to Earth, refugees from a natural disaster.

It was my fault. The clean water non-profit I worked for had been responsible for some of those clean water laws. Talk about unintended consequences. Now I understood why the state hadn’t fought the legislation. It was never about clean water. It was about population control. The non-profit and I had been suckered.

“How about making a home nest in town where there are sewers?” I asked.

“None of my daughters can get building permits.”

My own damn HOA had contributed to that problem.

We continued to the river. The water was clean but the banks boggy. Singing Heart waded out into the dark mud. She stretched her neck. It ballooned and she made a whooping roar that ended in a bellowing meow. All the females stopped what they were doing and responded. She called and they repeated for several rounds. The tone and pattern changed but not the volume. From downstream came a second set of calls and responses. When it did, Singing Heart shook her feathers and rejoined me on hard ground. The call would wind its way down the river to the end of the valley.

I didn’t need the translator. It was a gratitude psalm. A tear dripped down my cheek.

“Magdalene? What distresses you?”

My chin quivered. “How can you sing of gratitude considering how we treat you?”

“You’ve taken in my two sons. You cannot imagine my relief.”

It had been a sheer accident. And for how long could I keep them? An aspirin for a brain tumor.

Singing Heart asked, “You left the AAB because you were having difficulties with a fledgling? Is he well?”

“I left because it was too much stress to deal with a toddler, a nursing infant, a sexist boss, and an hour commute each way.” I blushed, ashamed of my pitiful problems. “I can’t imagine how you handle the stress of this place.”

Singing Heart bobbed her head. “I don’t do it alone. I have my flock. Your culture of complete independence is foolish.” She clucked and the box intoned, “You will do better now that you have my two sons. We have more to teach you than technology.”

“Technology!” I pointed to the birds in the river. “Your daughters all have equivalents of Ph.D.s, and they are reduced to stringing nets in a river.”

“Do you feel reduced when you take care of your fledglings?”

I remained silent. There were seasons in life, but my boss and my culture didn’t understand that, so I did feel less than no matter how wrong it was. I lifted my chin. “I make no promises, but now that I understand the issues, I can work on solutions.”

Singing Heart brushed me with a wing a sign of gratitude. But in this case, I took it as a gesture of forgiveness.

On Monday, instead of summarizing that 270-page impact statement, I presented the plight of the bird people. The staff members were divided as to what to do, but they agreed to an emergency board meeting to discuss the possible realignment of the mission of the non-profit. We were small and disorganized, but it was a start.

Moving on to the second prong of my master plan, I cornered Kendra–our one and only lawyer–before she could slip away to pick up her kids from school.

I handed her a flash drive with the HOA covenant rules. “My question is simple. Can I force the HOA to accept an application to build an aviary?”

“You are taking this personally,” said Kendra.

“I want to change the narrative from NIMBY to YIMBY.”

“YIMBY?”

“Yes, In My Back Yard.”

Kendra smiled. “I’ll go over this tonight and get back to you.”

A week later, I was sitting in Mrs. Topher’s living room with the finished proposal. Mrs. Topher’s décor was 1970s day-glo. It explained the clown hair. I wanted to get down to business, but Mrs. Topher wanted to play hostess. She provided fat-free, taste-free cookies and iced tea so sweetened the sugar had precipitated into the bottom of the glass. My fillings ached.

“I hear there are two avians living in your home,” said Mrs. Topher.

I’d read the rules so many times I knew that unrelated folk were frowned upon, but not live-in help. I smiled. “They provide childcare and cleaning services.”

I expected Mrs. Topher to warn me of the dangers of salmonella or something, but instead she nodded slyly. “Yes, I’ve heard the labor laws don’t apply. You don’t have to pay unemployment or match social security.” She patted me on the knee. “How smart of you. It must be nice to finally be able to afford help.”

Ripping off Mrs. Topher’s arm and beating her to death with it would not advance my agenda. Instead, I asked, “So you have no issues with bird people?”

“Not if they have a job, know their place. Of course not. I’m not a racist.”

“Excellent. I have a buyer for the rest of the subdivision.”

Mrs. Topher lit up, and not just from her spray tan.

I explained the details of how Singing Heart’s daughter would buy into the subdivision and build an aviary. “And here’s the best part, because they’ll be part of the community, they’ll pay yearly fees. It’s a win-win.”

Mrs. Topher’s face darkened like a summer thunderstorm. “It won’t pass.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll vote against it. This is a human community.”

My time at the non-profit taught me not to argue. I’d just have to go grassroots.

Mrs. Topher opened a leather slipcase and produced a typed list. “I’ll save you time. These people will vote with me no matter what. I engender loyalty that way.”

Was she bluffing? I reminded myself not to engage. I thanked her for the list and tried to let myself out, but Hercules and Atlas were loose. I had to wait until Mr. Topher corralled the two guard dogs. They were well muscled, but a little too lean. I wondered if they were actually vicious or just hungry.

After dinner, I made some phone calls. Mrs. Topher hadn’t bluffed. She had a solid thirty-five percent. The vote would fail. I wailed in frustration and flopped facedown into all the maps and papers I’d spread out on the table. Larry tapped the floor with one foot. I rested my chin in my hand. “Need help getting Cissie to bed?”

He typed on his controller, and the box said, “You are distressed. It is our role as men of the house to relieve that distress. How may we help?”

Just being asked made me smile. I hadn’t explained about the proposal to shield them from disappointment, but the worst had come to pass so there was no point in hiding it. I explained the situation. While doing so, Curly joined us with Cissie padding right behind, her Disney toothbrush in hand.

I pointed on the map. “The woman who lives here will vote against the proposal, and all the people on this list,” I held up the paper, “will vote with her.”

Larry touched my shoulder with a beak, a very personal gesture. “Then all is not lost. All you have to do is change one person’s mind instead of thirty. We have faith in you.”

“Of course we do, mommy.” Cissie hugged me.

Yeah. Only one.

After the kids were in bed and the bird people asleep, I gathered the covenant rules and binder clipped them. I found a loose page under the map of the subdivision. It outlined the rules governing utility easements. Something caught my eye. I compared the Google satellite view with the subdivision map. The original map didn’t have Mrs. Topher’s giant pool and deck. I checked the property lines, the easements, and compared it to the satellite view.

“Son of a–” I fished out two steaks from the deep freezer and shoved them into the microwave to defrost.

Twenty minutes later, dressed all in black with a measuring tape in one hand and a bag ‘o steaks in the other, I stood at the Tophers’ fence. Hercules and Atlas barreled up barking and snarling.

“Hey, boys.” I waved the steaks. “Let’s find out. Are you vicious or hungry?”

The next day I again sat in Mrs. Topher’s living room, suffering another glass of sludge tea.

She smiled unctuously. “You said you needed a change to the agenda?”

I’d used that as the excuse. There was no way this woman would forfeit an opportunity to gloat. “Yes.”

“Do you want to cancel the vote?”

“No. I have discovered a violation.” I leaned in. “A serious violation. The board needs to know so they can act.”

Mrs. Topher licked her lips. “Do tell.”

I handed her a manila folder. Eagerly, she flipped it open. She scowled. “This is my address.”

I grinned. “Yes, and your pool crosses into the easement by nine inches. You’ll have to rip it out.”

“I’ll get a variance.”

“That’ll take 2/3rds too. Do you think you’ll have that many friends after they find out you could’ve solved both the swamp problem and reduced their fees by allowing the aviary?”

She tossed the folder onto the coffee table. “That’s blackmail.”

“May I count on your vote and those of your friends?”

As I rounded the van to the driver’s side, Mrs. Topher released Hercules and Atlas. They bolted straight for me, but instead of mauling me, they tried to lick me to death. Disgusted, Mrs. Topher slammed her front door. Such bad doggies.

Two months later, the subdivision threw a party for the groundbreaking. Larry and Curly’s flight feathers had filled in and their tails were elongating. Their crests stood high and their eyes shone. By Christmas, they might be ready for their own set of leg spurs.

They followed Tyler, as he stumbled across the lawn. He’d grown into a mobile terror, squealing and clapping his hands. Seeing the three of them walk across the lawn, my heart warmed. Flocks were nice.

The ceremony had called all the displaced birds from miles around. They would all apply to become a part of the newest home nest. All but Larry and Curly, of course. First, she was their sister, and second, they’d become fully integrated into our household. I had become their mother bird.

Paul strolled over with Cissie on his shoulders. Behind them stood Mrs. Topher, her hair now a yellow-orange. She preened for a local news team. “Yes. We are a progressive neighborhood. I was instrumental in getting the permits.”

Paul nodded towards Larry and Curly. “Boy howdy, are those two working out, especially now that you’re back at the AAB.”

“Don’t get too used to it,” I said. “Soon, we might not be able to afford them.”

Paul frowned. “Why?”

“My next project is to get the bird people labor protections.”

Cissie said in her father’s ear, “Yes, daddy. Do you know what labor protections are?”

As he bee-lined to the food table, he said, “Yes, I do, Cissie. But please explain them to me anyway.”

My attention turned to three clipped birds in white button-downs and khakis who rushed toward Larry, Curly, and Tyler. The leader of the three clutched a black book. The other two clutched plastic papers, which flickered with text.

The leader squawked and the box translated, “Good day, gentle birds. We are seeking to increase our flock. Have you been saved by Jesus?”

Larry and Curly stood tall, their necks extended. In unison, they said, “Thank you, but we have already been saved, saved by Mary Magdalene.”

Ms. Mary Magdalene Farconi, a working mother, is a G-11 in the Labor Protections Department of the Alien Affairs Bureau. She supervises a governmental hotline for reporting labor abuse of Avian Nationals and is currently working with cities all over the US to design and develop aviaries within human communities.

Dr. Kathy Kitts, a former geology professor, served as a science team member on the NASA Genesis Discovery Mission. Before that, she directed a planetarium for nine years. Her latest speculative short fiction has appeared in Amazing, James Gunn’s Ad Astra, and Mad Scientist Journal. Her latest short story collection, Getting What You Need, is now available on Amazon. Born and raised in the southwest, she is currently living in the high desert of New Mexico.

Leigh’s professional title is “illustrator,” but that’s just a nice word for “monster-maker,” in this case. More information about them can be found at http://leighlegler.carbonmade.com/.

Fiction: Jehovah’s Feathers was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

#HOA #K. Kitts #Leigh Legler #Mary Magdalene Farconi #Xenobiology

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littleredroseonthevalley · 6 years

Text

Mary Magdalene

Or, The Unrepentant Sinner

Summary: The Duchess makes a social call to a new friend and they discuss the unsavory life of an exposed girl thrown into British high society.

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Words: 1525

Notes: So, here we are. This time I swear to the Lord above it is going to be a one-shot. You hear me, God? One-shot.

And if you thought that eating Tide pods is a post-Millenial thing, let me introduce you to Goethe. The coolest thing an European aristocratic youth could do in 1799 was to kill themselves over unrequited love. Or ‘political despair’, whatever that is.

Enjoy! Pero no mucho.

(I’m tagging @lizeboredom just because. Sue me.)

“The world’s delight is sweet and lovely, its way of life is soft and adorned. For the world’s allurements I burn willingly - I’ll not shun their voluptuousness.”

~ Carmina Burana (XIII Century)

“Where were we, again?” An older lady takes a cup of tea sitting on the coffee table and brings to her lips.

The woman was absolutely stunning, despite going on years and the weight of a viduity, with a fair, smooth complexion, pale skin that seems to have never seen a working day in her life and a curly, black hair fashionably styled on the top of her head.

“You were telling me about the time you arrived at the house of your natural father, Your Grace.” Her companion responded.

“Of course.” The lady nods, reminded. “My sickly and horridly poor mother had only just died, after keeping my noble parentage hidden my entire life.

“I resent her over it to this day, as a life of a noble bastard is much superior than the living proof of the misdemeanors of a loose seamstress. But I must admit the woman had her use, as she had levered with my father to take me in upon her death.

“If not for that carefully worded, strategic delivered letter, I doubt I would be welcomed on the manor that warm summer afternoon. I would be just another orphan girl at the spike. My mother provided more dead than she ever did while alive.

“Good thing Vincent was never the kind to assert authority, too, bleeding heart like no other. Perhaps if he was, he would have thought to keep the bastard on her rightful place, but he clung on to an idea of family, and my arrival seemed to be the last straw for him to grasp.”

“Perhaps he thought it to be a blessing.” The interlocutor weighed. “A daughter that late in life! For a dying line, no less. Some families can only dream on being so fortunate.”

She chuckled dismissively. “If only I was a man, perhaps I would tend towards your line of thought. But no, I was no saving grace. Indeed, the late earl had to go to great lengths to assure my right of succession. Nevertheless, if nothing else, undeserving I was not.

“You know the law of the land. Women shall hold no property. It would not be so simple to solve like a simple letter to the Prince Regent, I had to work if I wanted my birthright to be recognized. And as soon as I stepped foot in Edgewater, I started assessing my assets.”

“You seem savvy for a peasant just off the hovels.” The companion comments.

A sombre look passes through the face of the Duchess. “Poverty is a cruel mistress. I lacked just about every gift one must have to prosper within the upper echelons of society, except for wit and determination. I would not return to the miserable life my mother bequeathed me. I was certain that while I breathed, I would fight.”

“And fight you did.” The other noted. “What about the rest of the family?”

“My grandmother, Dominique, was willing to go to great lengths to help me. She tried to convince me it was a labour of love, but for all her age, I was wiser. Her hatred against my stepmother knew no bounds, and the sentiment was reciprocate. She would be out on the streets if my father happened to pass. A sympathetic, and dependant, figure on the head of the family was a necessity.

“My greatest threat was my stepbrother. My actual brother, half-brother that is, had died the prior summer on a hunting accident. Ever since then, Edmund had been filling the position of heir to the estate, but the man was absolutely inadequate. No wit to speak of, nor charm, and a small dog passing as hair.

“If it was only him, it would be only too easy. No, the danger laid with my stepmother. Vincent had let his wife walk all over him for the better part of two decades by the time I arrived, Henrietta had a comfortable station at the manor and was not about to lose it all to me without a fight.”

“What about the Duke? How does he fit in with the story?” The conversationalist questioned.

“Yes, I am getting there.” The Duchess tattles slightly annoyed. “I met Tristan at my first gathering at the manor. By then, I was involved with our neighbour, Ernest Sinclaire. A handsome man, charming on occasion, shamelessly wealthy. His greatest flaw, however, was a pathological sense of sociability.”

The interlocutor chuckled. “Was he too talkative?”

The woman could not help but laugh at the notion. “Much the opposite. Sour like rotten passion fruit. Ernest could not be bothered to interact with his fellow human beings. If he was so inclined, you could count it to be an admonishment.”

“What makes him memorable, then?”

“Looking back, I believe his demeanour was more related to shyness than haughtiness. He had been orphaned at a young age and had no relatives or close acquaintances other than my father and grandmother. Moreover, as such, he was fun to tease.

“In fact, more than fun, it was incredible useful. Ernest and Tristan had an intense rivalry, probably over the fact that Ernest was young and handsome, two things the Duke intensely desired to be, while actually being loud and boisterous, traits the young landlord despised over any other.

“By showing favour to Ernest, I became all the more desirable to Tristan. By the end of that summer, I was engaged to the Duke, telling Ernest it was the designs of my family and I could not do a thing.”

“What did he do about that?” The other asks, with a sober tone, fitting to the subject.

“What all the young men of his time were doing.” She says, with a disconcerting coldness. “He killed himself. A shot to his head and a depressive journal explaining, in detail, what led him to the act. Just like in The Sorrows of Young Werther.”

“How ghastly!” The companion gasps.

The Duchess shrugs. “If he wished for death, he got his bullet’s worth. If you are so inclined to pity anyone, pity the living. For the dead, there is nothing to be done.”

Faced with the constrained silence of her companion, the noblewoman continues her tale: “Of course, for a will to come to fruition, someone has to die. My marriage was not enough.”

“You killed your father?” The companion inquired, taken aback.

“Of course not. Once married, I had fulfilled the designs of the earl’s will. I was the heir, and a Duchess, and so I had no hurry for him to die. But die he did.” The woman takes a sip from her tea. “Hunting accident, as fate has you. It was not in my best interest having my father dead. Henrietta, herself, was on a different mind.”

“But if you were recognized as heir and had fulfilled the conditions for inheritance, wouldn’t you stepmother be thrown on the streets upon viduity?” The conversationalist wonders. “Or did she believe to have in you an ally? A charitable, devout soul, if nothing else.”

“No, of course not. Henrietta was brash, not a mule. She thought she could question the will on court, on grounds that my father had another match in mind, and dead men don’t tell tales.” A small pause pass before the Duchess continues, “If it came to fail, I suspect she would try to pin the murder on me.”

“But she could not.” The interlocutor says with certainty and the Duchess hums her agreement. “What did you do?”

“Have you ever heard that between two people there are no secrets?” The noblewoman asks, an amused smile on her face. “Henrietta did not commit the murder herself. She put her child to do it, and he complied with her designs. But Edmund was a good Christian, he felt legitimately conflicted about the crime, and so he confessed his wretched emotions to a sympathetic ear.”

“You?”

She snorted. “God, no. He confided on his fiancée, Theresa Sutton. However, I would say it would have been better if he went straight to the constable. It was a careless decision, certainly, as the girl was ambitious and had a clear sight of how increasingly unfavourable that match was becoming. She had signed up to be a countess, after all, not some lukewarm relative of a Duchess-Consort.

“She bartered the information with me for my help on the marriage market. I set her up with some old-and-grey marquis, acquaintance of Tristan’s, who soon made of Theresa a wealthy, wealthy widow. My stepmother was hanged for orchestrating the murder of her husband and trying to usurp the title of a peer of the realm. Edmund was spared of such a fate, but was deported to Australia. The last I heard, though, was that he did not make it to the Cape.”

A spell of silence befell the two of them before the companion asks, “What of the Duke?”

“I was a dotting and dutiful wife to Tristan.” She hummed. “I was, indeed. I kept his properties flourishing, his bed warm and was a darling companion on every social engagement of his. I gave him two beautiful daughters and a healthy son. In all, I have been a bastion of propriety up until his untimely death.”

A sip of tea and a wicked smile, the Duchess whispers: “The lead I put on his food notwithstanding.”

The two of them chuckle darkly.

“But enough about me.” The Duchess say. “How about you, darling?”

#desire & decorum #ernest sinclaire #duke tristan richards #vincent of edgewater #edmund marlcaster #theresa sutton #henrietta of edgewater

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throughthecurtains · 3 years

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✨ Tag 9 people to learn more about their interests!

i was tagged by @person-personified

MUSIC

●fav genre? honestly, no faves. i usually end up liking all kinds of music.

●fav artist? taylor swift. i've been a massive swiftie since i was 11. like, a shrine in my closet kind of fan.

●fav song? all too well-taylor swift, safarnama by lucky ali

●most listened song recently? monster-jay-z, kanye west, rick ross, nicki minaj, bon iver. i've heard it enough times now to remember most of nicki's verse.

●song currently stuck in your head? el tango de roxanne from moulin rouge. it's the 'rrrOOOOXANNE' for me

●5 fav lyrics?

1.a woman's work/a woman's prerogative/a woman's time to embrace/she must put herself first-mary magdalene by fka twigs

2.you preached in front of one-hunnid-thousand but never reached her/i fuckin' tell you fuckin' failure—you ain't no leader!/i never liked you, forever despise you—i don't need ya-u by kendrick lamar

3.o jisey dhoonda/zamaane mein, mujh hi mein tha/o mere saare jawaabon ka safarnama/meri ore se utha teri ore ko kadam pehla/milenge hum-safarnama by lucky ali

4.i knew you/tried to change the ending/peter losing wendy, i/i knew you/leavin' like a father/running like water-cardigan by taylor swift

5.this thing upon me/howls like a beast/you flower, you feast-woman by harry styles

●radio or your own playlist | solo artists or bands (it's not a conscious decision though) | pop or indie | loud or silent volume I slow or fast songs | music video or lyric video (again, both. each has its own significance) | speakers or headset | riding a bus in silence or while listening to music (it's hell when i forget my headphones while i'm on the bus to uni) | driving in silence or with radio on (i'm not a very good driver so i need all the concentration i can get)

BOOKS

●fav book genre? umm, nowadays it's mostly stuff my friend reccomends me but ig i'd say i mostly read chick lit, or queer romances, or the sub genre of post apocalyptic shit (idek if its a thing). like idc what kind of apocalypse it is: zombies, the explosion of a supervolcano causing nuclear winter to descend over america, a post-nuclear-war world

●fav writer? i don't think i've read enough works of one particular writer to have one

●fav book series? the hunger games by suzanne collins. starting to appreciate it more and more as i grow older. plis suzanne don't come out as a transphobe and ruin another series for me

●comfort book? howl's moving castle by dianna wynne jones. if you thought the movie was chaos the book is cHaOs

●perfect book to read on a rainy day? pride and prejudice?

●fav characters? howl and sophie-howl's moving castle, katniss everdeen-the hunger games, skylar st. clair and rafael gives light-gives light

●5 quotes from your fav book that you know by heart? (only the first two i knew by heart, the rest i had to look up 🙃)

1.it was the best of times, it was the worst of times/ it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness/ it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity/ it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness/ it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair/we had everything before us/ we had nothing before us/ we were all going directly to heaven/ we were all going directly the other way-a tale of two cities by charles dickens (sorry if i got anything wrong but in my defence its a long ass intro)

2.these violent delights have violent ends/ and in their triumph die/ like fire and powder-romeo and juliet by shakespeare

3.it grew louder –louder, louder!/ and still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled/ was it possible they heard not?/ almighty god! –no, no! they heard!/ they suspected! –they knew! –they were making a mockery of my horror!- the telltale heart by edgar allen poe (it looks like a weird quote but in context it's positively chilling)

4.history, huh?-red, white & royal blue by casey mcquiston

5.deep into that darkness peering, long i stood there wondering, fearing/ doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before/ but the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token/ and the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "lenore?"/ this i whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "lenore!"/ merely this, and nothing more-the raven by edgar allen poe

●hardcover or paperback (most hardcovers are of similar size, so when they line up all organised and beautiful on my shelf it brings tears to my eyes) | buy or rent | standalone novels or book series (depends on how much content you need to write to create a perfect story, jane eyre as a standalone novel makes sense, a song of ice and fire as a series makes sense) | ebook or physical copy (but for environmental reasons i can give them up) | reading at night or during the day | reading at home or in nature (depends on the weather) | listening to music while reading or reading in silence | reading in order or reading the ending first (sometimes i just take a peek okay, i need to know if anyone died so i can stop reading) | reliable or unreliable narrator (again, depends on the context of the book) | realism or fantasy | one or multiple povs (depends) | judging by the covers or by the summary | rereading or reading just once

TV AND MOVIES

●fav tv/movie genre? i watch almost all genres except for action, ig.

●fav movie? mulan

●comfort movie? harry potter and the chamber of secrets

●movie you watch every year? mulan

●fav tv show? avatar the last airbender but brooklyn nine-nine and parks & recreation are close seconds

●comfort tv show? kitchen nightmares. sometimes it's just me binging compilation clips on youtube

●most watched tv show? avatar the last airbender. i've lost count

●ultimate otp? peraltiago, sukka. in non-canon its destiel (which pretty much crashed and burned)

●5 fav characters?

1.aang (avatar the last airbender)

2.amy santiago (brooklyn nine-nine)

3.leslie knope (parks and recreation)

4.anne shirley cuthbert (anne with an e)

5.suki (avatar the last airbender)

usually protagonists aren't as well liked but all these shows are so good you can't help but love them

●tv shows or movies (tv shows have more opportunities for better character and plot development. not that most make use of them) | short seasons (8-13 episodes) or full seasons (22 episodes or more) [depends on what the show is about] | one episode a week or binging (not much of a patient person) | one season or multiple seasons (again, depends. haunting of hill house was one season and it was perfect but the same can't be done with other shows) | one part or saga | half hour or one hour long episodes | subtitles on or off | rewatching or watching just once | downloads or watches online

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eddycurrents · 6 years

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For the week of 5 February 2018

Quick Bits:

Armstrong & The Vault of Spirits is a fun one-shot that uses Aram’s collection of wine to weave together the “true story” of Noah, the emergence of a previously unknown arch-nemesis, the secrets societies that continue to plague Archer & Armstrong, and the often hidden emotional connection that Armstrong has with his family. It’s really nice to see Fred Van Lente back chronicling these characters, even if just for one special right now.

| Published by Valiant

Avengers #679 tags in Kim Jacinto for art duties, appearing to be up to the challenge laid out by Pepe Larraz in quality of work on this book. We get the stakes of the match here between the Grandmaster and the Challenger, of whom we also get a history, and it manages to make all of the destruction and battles seem like mere whims of these members of the Elders of the universe. I suspect when discovered, this isn’t going to sit well with the Avengers. As only part five, this also makes me wonder what else Mark Waid, Al Ewing, and Jim Zub have up their sleeves.

| Published by Marvel

Black Bolt #10 has a brief crossover segment with Inhumans: Judgment Day, illustrated by guest-artist Stephanie Hans. It’s beautiful, and an interesting way to work in the events of the broader Inhumans saga into the current arc in this series. I like how Saladin Ahmed handles Lash’s plan to advance all of the interwoven spinning plates.

| Published by Marvel

Coyotes #4 closes out the first arc along the theme of upheaval. There are some interesting parallels put forward in the Duchess and Red’s situations, as well as the comeuppance against the coyotes who have been hunting women. As usual, Caitlin Yarsky’s art elevates everything. I highly recommend picking up these issues or pre-ordering the collection for April; Sean Lewis and Yarsky did something great here.

| Published by Image

Extremity #11 is the penultimate issue of the series as the final battle is enjoined. Daniel Warren Johnson mainly focuses here on the action and as usual the artwork is gorgeous. I’m going to really miss this series when it’s done.

| Published by Image / Skybound

Giant Days #35 somewhat skirts the issue of the fallout of Ed’s admission of love to Esther last issue for now, instead following on a visiting Sarah and Lottie Grote. It’s funny seeing Daisy and Susan trying to look after a kid, plus the interesting development that Daisy may finally be cluing in that Ingrid is absolutely horrible.

| Published by Boom Entertainment / Boom! Box

Incognegro: Renaissance #1 kicks off a new mystery with the death of a black author at a literary shindig, with the police appearing completely disinterested in the case completely. Mat Johnson and Warren Pleece deliver an interesting start.

| Published by Dark Horse / Berger Books

Infinity Countdown: Adam Warlock #1 acts as a bridge between Guardians of the Galaxy #150 and, as well as a primer for, Infinity Countdown: Prime. Adam Warlock has been reborn and this issue gives us a summary of Warlock’s history and teases what’s to come at the end of time, as he enters into an uneasy alliance with Kang the Conqueror. A lot of this issue has Gerry Duggan recapping events and foreshadowing what’s to come, but it is highly elevated by the art of Mike and Laura Allred.

| Published by Marvel

Koshchei the Deathless #2 continues to be a fun and exciting fable of Koshchei telling Hellboy his story. Mike Mignola does a great job of including some subtle humour into the telling, along with the absurdity of some of the Russian folktales (or the like), and Ben Stenbeck (with Dave Stewart’s colours) is again phenomenal.

| Published by Dark Horse

Mech Cadet Yu #6 has the kids face off against baby Sharg and it’s all kinds of awesome.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

No. 1 With a Bullet #4 finds new and inventive ways to ruin Nash’s life further, with weirdness continuing and lies emerging to cast her as a willing participant in her sex tape.

| Published by Image

Noble #9 is a kind of coda to the first two arcs, allowing David and Astrid a bit of quiet time and reflection before tackling the next stage in their lives. It’s interesting in their dealings with Foresight and Lorena Payan here that even when they manage to get somewhat free, Payan has to remind them that even their personal lives are still under observation.

| Published by Lion Forge / Catalyst Prime

Rasputin: The Voice of the Dragon #4 amps up the action in this penultimate issue of the series. Christopher Mitten (with colours by Dave Stewart) is on fire this issue.

| Published by Dark Horse

Rogue & Gambit #2 reminds me again that I don’t like Rogue and Gambit as a couple, something about them together just seems like nails on a chalkboard at this point, but I do like Kelly Thompson writing about them. There’s a nice mix of humour, action, and history that keeps this flowing nicely. It also helps that the art from Pere Pérez with colours by Frank D’Armata is amazing.

| Published by Marvel

Rose #8 gives a bit of history on Drucilla, with Felix giving excuses for why she’s grown into a selfish, evil monstrosity. It’s interesting to see the lengths we’ll go to in order to explain away bad behaviour of family members. Ig Guara, with colours by Triona Farrell, also deserves more attention. Their art on this series since day one has been impeccable.

| Published by Image

Scarlett’s Strike Force #2 advances many of the story threads in an interesting fashion, particularly Skywarp’s disillusionment with the Joe’s in fixing his teleportation and the burgeoning mystical aspect to Cobra. There’s also a humorous exchange between Raptor and Croc Master.

| Published by IDW

Spirits of Vengeance #5 concludes what was an unexpected, but excellent, mini-series from Victor Gischler, David Baldeón, and Andres Mossa. It was a nice mix of humour, action, and gorgeous art playing with some of Marvel’s lately underutilized supernatural characters. I know that they’ll likely reappear during the upcoming Damnation event, but I’d definitely like to see more from this creative team.

| Published by Marvel

Star Wars #43 brings the “Ashes of Jedha” arc to a close with a surprising twist. Also, some great art again by Salvador Larroca and Guru-eFX.

| Published by Marvel

TMNT Universe #19 begins a new arc “Service Animals” by Ian Flynn, Dave Wachter, and Ronda Pattison, as a well as a prelude for the upcoming Kingdom of Rats storyline in the main book, by Bobby Curnow and Pablo Tunica. It’s always great to see Wachter’s art, especially with how expressive his turns at Alopex are here.

| Published by IDW

Transformers: Lost Light #14 is mostly a Scavengers story, but unlike most of them, this one is no light-hearted romp. Like the recent Getaway arc, this gets pretty serious and pretty dark.

| Published by IDW

Transformers vs. Visionaries #2 gets into more of the internecine warfare and skirmishes between the factions of the Visionaries themselves as the Darkling Lords and the Spectral Knights battle for the soul and honour of their people. I like what Magdalene Visaggio is setting up here and Fico Ossio’s artwork, with colours by David Garcia Cruz, is beautiful.

| Published by IDW

Twisted Romance #1 is off to a good start. This issue has a trio of tales that largely mix horror/supernatural with love/sex/romance. The highlight for me is Sarah Horrocks’ piece that reminds me of the existential eroticism of Clive Barker’s work, but all three are worth the price of admission. Alex de Campi and Katie Skelly’s story is a bit of revenge on a cheating partner’s lover with a confrontation between an incubus and a succubus, while Magen Cubed delivers a sweet prose story of a monster hunter and the vampire who loves him.

| Published by Image

Venom #161 has some truly excellent artwork from Javier Garrón (with colours by Dono Sánchez-Almara and Erick Arciniega) as Mike Costa pens a done-in-one story advancing some of the series’ sub-plots while giving a fitting confrontation between Venom and Spider-Woman. With this issue sandwiched between two crossovers (the just finished Venom Inc. on one side and Poison-X on the other) it’s nice to see how the team make this wholly satisfying on its own.

| Published by Marvel

Vs. #1 debuts with gorgeous artwork by Esad Ribić and Nic Klein, perfectly capturing turning war into a commercialized sport. Along with the lettering from Aditya Bidikar and graphics by Tom Muller, it manages to have a nice European, particularly Humanoids, feel to it, despite not being particularly over the top.

| Published by Image

The Wicked + The Divine 1923 is quite possibly the greatest issue of this already magnificent series, and a must buy for the people who may have otherwise been missing out on the tangential one-shots. This one is meaty with story and purpose as Kieron Gillen and Aud Koch blend prose and comics, along with conventions of pulp mysteries, silent film, and more to create a ritual that helped shape the rest of the 20th century as a kind of prelude to the main WicDiv series. This is a thing of beauty.

| Published by Image

Witchblade #3 goes deeper on both Alex’s history and the mystery of the supernatural stuff going on around her. I may sound like a broken record, but again I have to commend Caitlin Kittredge, Roberta Ingranata, and Bryan Valenza for this series, because it’s got a great story and beautiful artwork.

| Published by Image / Top Cow

X-Men Red #1 is off to a pretty good start. The artwork from Mahmud Asrar with colours by Ive Svorcina are a real draw, as is the return of Jean Grey to the X-Men, but the breakout star is still Tom Taylor’s characterizations. Particularly of Honey Badger.

| Published by Marvel

Other Highlights: 30 Days of Night #3, Amazing Spider-Man #795, The Backstagers 2018 Valentine’s Intermission #1, Black Comix Returns, The Damned #8, Daredevil #598, Dejah Thoris #1, Get Naked, Ghostbusters: Answer the Call #3, The Gravediggers Union #4, Half Past Danger II: Dead to Reichs #5, Hawkeye #15, Iron Fist #77, Jazz Maynard #7, Legenderry: Red Sonja #1, Monstro Mechanica #3, Paper Girls #20, Rock Candy Mountain #8, Runaways #6, Scales & Scoundrels #6, She-Hulk #162, Spider-Man #237, Spider-Man vs. Deadpool #27, Tomb Raider: Survivor’s Crusade #3

Recommended Collections: Avengers & Champions: Worlds Collide, Backstagers - Volume 2, Clue, Incognegro, Inhumans: Once & Future Kings, Scales & Scoundrels - Volume 1: Into the Dragon’s Maw, Secret Weapons Deluxe Edition, Star Wars: Doctor Aphra - Volume 2: Doctor Aphra and the Enormous Profit, TMNT - Volume 18: Trial of Krang, Transformers/GI Joe: First Strike, Transformers/GI Joe: First Strike - Champions

d. emerson eddy believes that you shouldn’t be the problem, be the solution.

#This Week in Comics

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everlarkficquestions · 7 years

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Hello there, Could you please post some good suspense/thriller fanfics! Thanks a lot.

Here are the usual suspects when it comes to mystery/thriller:

One by One - Court81981

Magdalene - FortuneFaded2012

The New York Games - AlwaysEverlark

Eye of the Beholder - Salanderjade

don’t tell me if I’m dying - monroeslittle

Mistaken Identity - Abagail_Snow

The Endless In-Between - madefrommemories, panem, & soamazinghere

Flesh and Bone - Kikaincognito and meggiemellark

Those are the ones we know of, but it might be worth doing a little sleuthing of your own:

This, this, and this are filtered searches of AO3 Everlark stories with the tag “mystery,” “crime,” and “suspense,” respectively. (There will be some repeats and red herrings.)

This, this and this are filtered searches of ff.net THG stories with Katniss and Peeta that are described as mysteries, crime, and suspense, respectively. (Again, there will be some repeats and red herrings, and beware abandoned stories!)

#>#type ask #joshifer4everyone

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gyrlversion · 5 years

Text

ISIS fighter reveals he was one of SEVEN students to join terror group

An ISIS fighter has revealed that he is among seven former students from a single London university to have joined the terror group.

In 2014, Zakariyya Elogbani abandoned his business management degree at the University of Westminster to join the jihadis.

From his detention cell in Syria he has now told the BBC that he was one of seven Westminster students to fight for the Islamist group.

The BBC has identified an eighth person who was studying there while on a terror protection order which was made less restrictive by a judge.

University of Westminster said it takes its safeguarding duty ‘very seriously’.

Zakariyya Elogbani (right), pictured with fellow former Westminster student, Ishak Mostefaoui, now also detained in Syria

Mohammed Emwazi – Jihadi John – was also a Westminster student. He appeared in videos in which he killed Western hostages before being killed in an airstrike

This is not the first time the institution has been linked with young men who turned to violent extremism. Ten years ago Mohammed Emwazi, the ISIS fighter dubbed Jihadi John who decapitated Western hostages on film, studied there.

Elogbani, from east London, was captured by Kurdish forces in Syria last summer.

He told the BBC: ‘Obviously we came here intending to fight. That’s the honest truth. But I don’t think it was a love for blood.’

In a likely reference to Jihadi John, he said Westminster students who had joined ISIS in Syria before he joined the university had ‘kind of opened the way’.

The first Westminster IS fighter: Jihadi John studied at the university in 2009

Mohammed Emwazi – who rose to notoriety as an English-accented ISIS executioner dubbed Jihadi John – was a University of Westminster student in 2009 before he left for Syria in 2013.

Arriving in Britain when he was six years old, Kuwaiti-born Mohammed Emwazi appeared to embrace British life, playing football in the affluent streets of West London while supporting Manchester United.

Emwazi (front row, second from left) pictured with classmates at the St Mary Magdalene C of E primary school in London

Neighbours recalled a polite, quietly spoken boy who was studious at his Church of England school, where he was the only Muslim pupil in his class.

As a radicalised young man in London he was was on a terror watch list, but managed to flee to Syria despite being banned from leaving Britain.

Jihadi John became an ISIS executioner

He featured in the execution videos of American journalists James Foley and Steven Sotloff, aid workers Alan Hennings and David Haines, 22 Syrian soldiers and Japanese journalist Kenji Goto.

Emwazi was killed in a missile strike in November 2015.

Jihadi John – Mohammed Emwazi – studied information systems at Westminster but left for Syria in 2013. He became infamous after appearing in videos in which he killed Western hostages. He was killed in a missile strike in November 2015.

Elogbani said he had never met Emwazi, but said he had seen another of the so called ‘Beatles’ – Brits who joined ISIS – in Syria.

The BBC found Elogbani travelled with fellow Westminster student Ishak Mostefaoui.

Ishak’s father Abderrahmane said his family came to London when Ishak was five and that the household opposed extremism.

Ishak was a popular, football-loving boy radicalised, his father believes, by people at University of Westminster in around 2013.

In April 2014, Mostefaoui said he was going to Amsterdam for a few days. Then they heard nothing for a month before he called to say he was in Syria. His father ‘collapsed’ when he heard the news.

Mostefaoui is among those ISIS fighters to have had his citizenship removed. Three months ago his wife and young son died, and he was badly injured, when his house was bombed. He is now being held in detention.

Elogbani told the BBC another three fellow students left around the same time as him and have since been killed.

He claims Ibrahim was killed in the siege of Raqqa, Abu Talha ‘died in the desert of Anbar’ and Abu Ubaydah was killed in Tikrit, Iraq.

The BBC has not confirmed all three identities but one is understood to be Qasim Abukar, a hardened jihadist who previously fought with a militant group in Somalia.

Abukar, who has been known to the security services for years, enrolled at Westminster in September 2012. Elogbani’s friends, spekaing on condition of anonymity, said Abukar had played a key role in radicalising Elogbani.

Abukar fled Britain for Somalia during a 2009 trial in which he was accused of attempting to travel to Afghanistan for terrorism. He was acquitted in his absence.

A separate High Court appeal heard that in Somalia, Abukar was ‘involved in fighting’ alongside the militant group al-Shabaab and tried to recruit fighters in the UK for overseas operations. The court was told he was ‘potentially involved in attack planning’ against Western interests.

MI5 had warned that allowing Qasim Abukar more contact with fellow students would increase the risk he posed but a judge relaxed the terms of his control. Although suspected of jihadi warfare for al-Shabaab, al-Qaeda and ISIS he has never been convicted of a crime

Qasim’a brother Makhzumi Abukar was jailed for seven years after pleading guilty in 2016 to a million-pound fraud. Scotland Yard believes the money was destined for ISIS in Syria

He was jailed in Somalia but returned to the UK in 2011 claiming he had been mistreated with the knowledge of the British state. Never having been found guilty by a court of terrorism offences, he was placed on a control order and a Terrorism Prevention and Investigation Measure (TPIM) to restrict his movements.

TPIMs can be imposed on terror suspects, who officials decide can neither be charged nor deported, but who are nevertheless assessed to be potentially involved in terrorist-related activities.

Despite being described in court as having played a ‘substantial role’ in his extremist network, Abukar began studying at University of Westminster a year later.

Because he had ‘a track record of absconding’, he had to report daily to a local police station and wear an electronic tag.

But in April 2013 he won an appeal to reduce one of the restrictions on his movements when a High Court judge permitted him to interact more with fellow students, despite warnings from MI5 that it would mean ‘the risk of him engaging in terrorism-related activity’.

At this time people close to Elogbani and Mostefaoui noticed their views were becoming extreme. Several sources told the BBC that Abukar was one of the people involved in radicalising them.

Abukar’s brother Makhzumi was another jihadi Westminster student, involved in procuring funds for the terror cell.

He was jailed for seven years after pleading guilty in 2016 to a million-pound fraud to steal the savings of pensioners. Scotland Yard believes the money was destined for extremists in Syria.

Court documents, seen by the BBC, reveal that when his home was searched in July 2014, only weeks after Elogbani and Mostefaoui had left the UK, notes found in his jacket recorded a series of financial transfers to a town on the Turkish/Syrian border known as ISIS International, because of its popularity as a handover point for foreign jihadists.

Another former University of Westminster student who went to Syria was Akram Sabah, a recruitment consultant who left the university in 2011 with a degree in biomedical sciences.

He and his older brother Mohammed were killed in fighting in September 2013.

Akram Sabah (r), pictured with his brother Mohammed, finished his Westminster University degree in 2011. Both brothers died in the fighting

The university of Westminster, from which as many as nine students may have joined the Islamist terror group, said an independent report had found no evidence it was a ‘breeding ground’ for extremism

Mohamed Jakir, a jihadi killed in Syria in 2014 after seven weeks in country, was also reportedly a Westminster University student, reading law.

That remains unconfirmed by the BBC. If true, it would take the overall number of fighters from the university to at least eight.

In 2015 the university commissioned a report after Jihadi John’s links to the institution became public. Fiyaz Mughal, one of its authors, said: ‘The university failed to understand its duty of care around confronting and countering extremist views.

‘But more importantly it didn’t even understand its duty of care and didn’t understand the concept of things like Islamism and extremism.’

Mughal was concerned that the Islamic Society at the university, in which Elogbani was active, was ‘allowed to run its own fiefdom’ where women and LGBT students were treated with hostility.

Former members denied a culture of extremism existed.

A University of Westminster spokeswoman told MailOnline: ‘The University takes its responsibility in relation to safeguarding and to the development of positive global citizens very seriously.

She said the report noted that: ‘Most of what the Panel heard and saw was most heartening. Like the Security Services, the Panel found no evidence at all to support journalistic claims that the University of Westminster was a breeding-ground for extremism’.

She added where the panel did highlight points for action, the University took steps to address these in line with its ‘absolute priority to safeguard its community’.

She said: ‘As a University which has wellbeing at its heart, Westminster has a strong pastoral and interfaith focus providing care and support to its community of 20,000 students from more than 150 countries.’

In Syria Elogbani, who lost his legs in a missile attack in 2015 and his British citizenship after that, told the BBC: ‘I committed a crime by coming here. I guess I need to be punished.

‘Anyone that’s still immersed by Islamic State methodology is wrong.

‘It’s a gang. A lot of people are tricked. Don’t fall into the same trick.’

In a statement, the Home Office said it did not comment on individual cases but pointed out that TPIMs provide some of the most restrictive measures available in the democratic world.

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standrewumcspokenword · 7 years

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Doubting Thomas

I always feel like this Sunday is here to play tricks with us. John’s gospel gives us this definitive account of who Jesus is, inspiring us with Peter and John running to the tomb, seeing it empty, and consoling us with hearing the risen Jesus call Mary Magdalene by name.

1 And then we get to Thomas. Thomas called Didymus, or the twin, but we’ve always called him “Doubting Thomas.” How would you like to be pegged by a name like that? We call him Doubting Thomas because for one instance in scripture 2 he gives the only sane response anyone would have to “Jesus is Risen.” He asks, “really?” 3 Prove it.

People rising from the dead isn’t the norm in life. It’s not what we usually encounter. So when Jesus appears to the Twelve after the Resurrection, when Thomas is absent, 4 he comes into that upper room and says “Peace be to you.” Not go make war, but he speaks peace. And Thomas is naturally skeptical. He wants to be sure. 5 And so he says he won’t believe unless he can touch the body of Jesus, to know that it is the SAME body by touching the nailprints, the cut in his side. Even his risen body still bears the marks of the pain he endured. It’s interesting that none of those Disciples stayed around on Good Friday long enough to see those nails go in, but now they see. And so Thomas says he, too, must see, to believe. John presents this to us today and 6 ends with, “blessed are those who do not see and yet believe.”

From the beginning of the Christian movement, faith and doubt have been linked. Those who believe in Jesus and put their trust in his movement and those who naturally say… wait a minute, I’m still not sure.

We’ve often treated those two as polar opposites, as if to have any doubt is the enemy of faith, when we know full well that faith without any questioning is blind and not open to seeing. The disciples didn’t kick Thomas out for questioning. They invited him to stay and helped him believe.

Martin Luther, the one who started the Reformation by doubting some of the teachings of the church, put it like this – Pride – not doubt – is the opposite of faith. Paul Tillich, a writer who lived long ago, said “Doubt is not the opposite of Faith but an essential part of it.” 7 Even John Ortberg, one who writes a book meant to convince of faith has said that doubt does good – it motivates us to learn about Jesus, as it did Thomas; it purifies away beliefs that are false; it humbles our arrogance; and it gives us compassion with other doubters. [John Ortberg Faith & Doubt, p. 12]

8 <BLANK>

Right after confirmation Sunday, I never saw a young man I’ll call Tom in church again. He went through a year of confirmation with me, professed his faith, and then, his mother came down with cancer. This was pre-Facebook, so I had to hear from a few friends of his that he was no longer calling himself a Christian. He never returned my calls.

So many times I wanted to sit down and talk about God. His mother beat cancer and she’s in remission now. But that was at the beginning of the cancer. And Tom was angry. I heard that he couldn’t believe that God, an all-powerful God, would choose to let his mother suffer. If I had the chance, I’d sit down with him and say, “you know, I’m not sure that I believe in that kind of God, either.” I don’t believe in a God who randomly selects some for easy lives, calls them “blessed” and selects others for cancer. In fact, I see Jesus healing repeatedly, telling us that God does want us to be healthy. Perhaps the doctors and scientists today are helping us to do God’s work on earth. If I had the chance, I’d ask whether God could be the one who walks with us through our hardest days? And THAT God convinces us through the Resurrection that the End isn’t the End after all?

9 Doubt is not the end of Faith. It opens up new avenues to understanding ourselves and knowing God.

Don always loved Doubting Thomas Sunday. Don was a faithful member of my church, attended every week for many years, but one day after Doubting Thomas Sunday he pulled me aside, looked around, and confessed – “I believe in God, God I’m sure about now… but Jesus… I have some questions.” We had many great conversations. I was there as Don breathed his last, still professing faith in God and hopeful about who would welcome him and call his name.

When I come to this Sunday, I find it asks me to be honest about why I believe. To be honest about my faith and about my doubt.

Faith and Doubt is all over the news now. 10 Perhaps you’ve heard of a movie that’s out, The Case for Christ. It comes from a book of the same title by Lee Strobel, a former journalist at the Chicago Tribune. It’s gotten pretty good reviews. Strobel called himself an atheist until he sat down and, like a journalist on the courtroom beat, investigated the Bible – his objections to it, his doubt about the resurrection.

I’m encouraged by what he did in that book.

One of the main objections comes down to the question “Can we trust scripture?”

Two of the objections he writes down are those I hear a bit, the first is wondering whether outside evidence – archeology – confirms scripture or not. The second is about whether we can trust that what we have is what Jesus said.

11 We humans are a skeptical bunch. Like Doubting Thomas, we find it hard to believe what we don’t touch with our hands, or at least, we find it hard to trust that we’re given the real story. Look at the JFK Assassination and how many still wonder whether we have the whole truth about it. Or those who deny the fact of the Holocaust. And about 9/11. I suspect that in my children’s lifetime there will be those who will wonder whether 9/11 ever even happened. Despite those of us who know people who were there, the smoke I saw a few months after, the towers I touched, my kids may know some doubters.

And so it’s natural that people come to scripture and want to “trust but verify.”

To verify scripture, many doubters ask –12 is there archeological evidence, outside evidence to support scripture. I can tell them yes there is.

· Tacitus, writing in about 116 CE (formerly AD), confirms Pontius Pilate existed and even uses the name Christus when referring to Jesus’ followers, and confirms that the name “Christians” was given to us by those who opposed Christianity in the first century.

o He confirms that Christianity was a substantial movement, worthy of mention.

o If many others who were contemporaries of the disciples believed, it makes the witness credible to me.

· Josephus, a Jewish historian writing just a few decades after Jesus’ crucifixion, mentions Jesus a few times. Not all of his writings are authentic, they’ve been modified. But in the most credible passage, he lists Jesus as “Jesus-who-was-called-the-Messiah” or a better translation – who was believed to be the Messiah. Not all of his writings are authentic, but that one is. Along with Tacitus, his writings confirm

o That Jesus lived.

o That his name was Jesus.

o That he died by crucifixion at the hands of Pontius Pilate.

o That he was believed to be the Messiah.

The Second objection people have, is ok, but can I trust the internal documents, the scriptures themselves. After all, much of scripture was transmitted orally for the first 30-60 years until the gospels were written. I like this objection, and I think it’s one we need to take seriously, because it’s really a question of whether we can trust the message we’ve been given about Jesus.

Here is how we tend to answer it.

13 What do you notice about this image?

1. It has the time things were written down for scripture and the number of manuscripts we have.

Ø Interesting that in comparison to other major works, the Christian scriptures were written down rather quickly. Especially if you take Paul’s letters into account, which were written within two decades of Jesus’ death.

We have a lot of manuscripts – those are everything from a little piece of papyrus to a whole scroll. A friend of mine whose a philosophy professor at DePaul shared this image on Facebook. James McGrath, chair of the New Testament department at Butler University commented that the last column is a little “iffy.” If the documents are pointing to something inaccurate, it doesn’t matter how many we have. It doesn’t matter how many copies of a history book we have saying the world is flat, it isn’t so. But still… it does mean that we have many to compare.

What else do you notice about it? It’s laminated. It’s pocket sized. This chart is something someone keeps in their backpocket or their wallet in order to whip out whenever they want to convince someone else of faith.

That never works. That’s not how someone comes to Christ. It’s how we drive people away. As a missionary, nobody in India was convinced by arguments I presented about Christ. But I did have a guy tell me he wanted to be a Christian because of how we cared about each other, how we lived. Can you show someone where you struggle with scripture? Because scripture has parts in it that we have to wrestle with. Things that we have to decide whether we’re still going to believe that today –14 1 Peter said “slaves obey your masters.” I think none of us here would still support that idea. 15 1 Peter 3 also says “wives obey your husbands.” Uh-hem, I don’t think that’s going to win the argument over who does the dishes. She’ll convince it me it was my idea to wash them before quoting that verse will change anyone’s mind.

Quoting scripture doesn’t change people’s minds, nor does taking them to a movie like the Case for Christ. Part of the reason for that is because many Christians have caused belief in Jesus to come with a high price tag. For many who use books or movies like The Case for Christ, they believe that if I convince you with my argument, then you have to believe AS I believe. You have to profess faith not just in the teachings of Jesus, but how I interpret them. And often that’s included terrible ideas about who’s in and who’s out, who’s loved by God and who should struggle. For many who doubt, it’s not God or Jesus that makes them doubt, it’s that we as Jesus’ followers have done such a poor job of being honest. Honest about our own struggles with faith and life.

16 Pride, not doubt, is the opposite of faith. And believing that our way is the only way a Christ-follower can go is the pride that leads to the fall of all of us.

This week, 17 can you have an honest conversation a time you doubted about God, the Resurrection, or about Jesus? Can you share about a time when someone did something that hurt you and made you doubt even your faith?

If the Disciples didn’t kick Thomas out for not believing, then none of us can do that to each other. In those conversations this week, I also believe you may have someone who is there with you, eavesdropping, yet unseen, one you may not even recognize. We’ll talk more about him next week. I want to invite you back next week 18 for another look at Faith & Doubt. We’ll look less at the arguments around faith, and more about what faith in Jesus really looks like. What it means to believe in this Resurrection. 19 Amen

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